Educated Fluffies Pt 3.

>You are a college student, about to graduate with a dual major in Education and Biological Engineering.
>In order to pass the final exam of the last college class you need to get your degree, you have adopted six fluffy ponies, with the sincere intent of teaching them to read, do basic math, and other common activities of a kindergarten student.
>The first thing you've discovered with six fluffies and a litterbox: you need more than one litterbox.
>Just the overnight traffic, which is apparently once every three hours by your estimations, is enough to fill the ordinary plastic tray to saturation point.
>Also: your little fluffy students are very needy early in the morning.
>Having other fluffies around takes some of the pressure off you, as they play among themselves in the empty bedroom you cordoned off to be a "safe room", but they still all want patted, fed, told they are good fluffies, and, most of all, played with.
>A quick breakfast, group backscratching session, and shopping trip to the local pet and office supply stores, gets you all ready for the challenge ahead.
>Time to get your teach on.
>Enter the safe room dramatically, with a fine shoulder bag full of supplies.
>"Daddeh heah!" "Pway wif fwuffy?" "Fwuffy wub yuu!" cries your assemblage, scampering across the hardwood floor to all swarm around you.
"Allright class, settle down. Today is important!"
>"Wha?"
"Yes, today is the first day of your schooling!"
>You open your bag and remove brightly colored construction paper and a big box of crayons, and set them on the desk in the off-campus housing room you are using as the fluffy safe room.
>"Wha' shull-ink?" asked Winter.
>Inquisitive, good.
"Schooling is where good little fluffies go to learn important things."
>You take out he big long alphabet banner while you are talking, and some stickytac.
"I'll be your teacher,. When we are in the safe room, I am not daddy, I am Mr. Anon."
>"Wha? Daddeh Missa'non?" Holiday is scratching her head with her forehoof. "Buh daddeh boi hoomen."
>"Oohhh... Shiny!" Christmas declares as you hang the foil alphabet banner. "Chissma wan' dat!"
>Summer, meanwhile has stopped paying attention to you all together, and given her ball a kick, sending it skittering across the floor. "Baww! Daddeh! Pway wif baww?"
>Easily distracted, bad.
>You tut kindly.
"Summer. This is school time. I am Mr. Anon, I will be taking this ball until class is over."
>"Nuu! Summa wuv baww! Nuu take baww!"
"Summer, you can have it back during recess."
>"Wha' wessess?"
>Autumn suddenly notices the supplies you have unloaded on the desk. "Daddeh haf cwayons! Gif Awtum cwayons daddeh! Autumn wuv dwaw!"
>Demanding, worse.
>Keep it together.
"Autumn, wait your turn. I am talking to Summer."
>"Sowwy daddeh."
"Call me Mr. Annon in the class room."
>"Misa'non?" Spring asks quietly.
>Hey, one remembered!
>"Yes, Spring, very good of you to call me Mr. Anon. You get a Gold Star."
>Ahh, the secret weapon of Kindergarten teachers everywhere. Tiny, meaningless rewards.
>You fish the sticker sheet out of your bag, and peel one off, then make a big show out of giving it to Spring, by kneeling and sticking it to her flank.
>Collective Awe.
>"Spwing ge' wuffy mawk?" Asks Christmas.
>"Spwing geh gowd staw? Wy Spwing geh staw daddeh?" Summer hugs your knee
"Spring remembered to call me "Mr. Anon" Summer.
>"Buh, Da-." Winter stalls, and kind of squints. You can hear the little wheels in a fluffy brain slowly squeaking into line. "Buh Missa'non? Daddeh is Missa'non? Wintah wan' gowd staw."
>"Missa'non?" squeaks Spring quietly.
"Very good Winter! Winter also gets a Gold Star for remembering to call me Mr. Anon in class."
>Another big display. Another handing out of a Gold Star.
>Christmas stares. "Winta' Fwuffy Mawk tuu! Jush wike Spwing!"
>There must be one retard in every class.
>"Howideh know! Howideh geh Gowd Staw if Howideh sah "Missa'non!" Wigh Daddeh?"
>"Missa'non?" Spring barely says, trembling.
"Not exactly Holiday: Tell me: Who is Mr. Anon?"
>You give her a big smile, and try to use your body language to indicate that you are Mr. Anon.
>"Um..." she stares skyward.
>"Summah!" Winter says in the fluffy approximation of a whisper, which is quite loud by itself. "Daddeh name Missa'non!"
>"Missa'non?" Spring is cowering. I wonder if she got stuck.
>You turn towards her, briefly ignoring Summer and Autumn both working on who Mr. Anon is.
"What is it Spring?"
>She squeaks, and a puddle begins to spread beneath her.
>"Spwing nee' wittabox... pwease hewp?"
>Hastily, but gently, you pick up the leaking Spring, and rush her to the nearest litterbox.
>This is going to be a long semester.