I have at last passed the faculty training class for the Grey School and am working on getting a second class accepted by the Dean of the Dept. of Wizardry. Once I have two classes up and running, they will grant me the honor of being a full member of the faculty. I have nothing but admiration for the school and its faculty. It is hard to see much unless you register as a student, but the website is www.greyschool.com.
Writing classes has always been interesting to me. The research involved and the thought process of how to make it clear to young students educates me as much as it does the students. It permits me to study the magical arts and their history and to convey what I have learned to a new generation, who will grow up taking wizardry as something perfectly normal. Mentioning where I teach always produces an interesting reaction from people. Usually they seem entirely accepting, though clearly the cannot know what I am talking about.
Once I have attained professorial rank in the school, I must have business cards made. I wonder if the school has given thought to a design. Perhaps they will adopt whatever I come up with. Something elegant and businesslike bearing the school emblem, the pentankhaduceus or pentankhaduce, which cleverly combines the pentagram, ankh, and caduceus. These symbolize the Gallo-Germanic, Egyptian, and Greek magical traditions, the three main springs which have fed the river of wizardry in the West.
It is fascinating to me to see things that seemed but fantasy when I was a teen, now flowering into the sunshine, no longer “occult,” hidden, but treated like any other scholarly discipline. Or rather like a whole college at a university with sixteen component departments. I myself am most attracted to the departments of Wizardry and Lore, two departments that deal with how wizardry is conveyed from one generation to the next. I am happy leaving the teaching of practical magic to the excellent professors in those departments. It is philosophy, theory, and narrative that has always interested me most. I would happily live in an “ivory tower” if ivory was not such a very impractical building material. Let the elephants keep their ivory. A tower would be nice, rather than a dungeon where I now work. More airy. More windows. A deck on top to pace on and look at the stars. Of course, I would just have to vacuum the spiral stairs…
The physical manifestation of the wizardry school remains to be built. All it would take is the chance direction of several millions into the hands of wizards willing to buy and maintain an old castle or country home in Britain, or even in America (there are a few old county homes), or perhaps to build one from scratch with all the benefits of modern Green architecture. I would gladly devote my lottery winnings to an endowment for such a school. Just have to get lucky.
You would think that if anyone could manage to win the lottery on purpose it would be a wizard. I am not sure why I am so reluctant. Perhaps because I haven’t enough faith in myself? Actually, I do wish I could carve out more time to do practical magic of that sort. Enchanting wands is certainly an important and noble calling, but I have always had visions of handling large sums of money. When I saw the photo in “The Week” of the ugly 27 story “mansion” built for a billion dollars by some mogul in Mumbai, I sighed.
Why is money wasted on the rich, who have such poor imaginations?