Jeremy Narattion Pt 1 (MRS Academy History)

Clink Swish

Arvin put the last clean dish on the rack as Christina dried her hands. She smiled at him before they walked back to the dining room. Arvin noticed that Jeremy and Cynthia had switched seats, with Cynthia now sitting across from his mother.

Fang Chou gestured for them to sit. As Christina sat beside him, he turned to Arvin. (Chinese) "We set it up this way to make translating easier. I'll translate Chinese to English for my wife, while Cynthia will translate English to Chinese for you."

(Chinese) "I see," Arvin nodded, then caught himself. (Chinese) "Wait, translation for what exactly?"

(Chinese) "For what Jeremy is about to explain," Fang Chou replied.

Arvin shifted uncomfortably in his seat. (Chinese) "Mr. Fang, this sounds like a private family matter. Perhaps I should-"

Fang Chou shook his head. (Chinese) "You were there, Arvin. Plus, you didn't say anything about what happened at the store. We'd like to hear your side too."

Still uncertain, Arvin looked at Jeremy. (Chinese) "Are you sure this is alright? As I said, this seems quite private."

Jeremy gave a wry smile. (Chinese) "It's... okay. Like father said, you... witness. Besides, I was... not fully awake then. Only know... afterward."

"Ahem." Christina's voice cut through their conversation. "Dear, you're doing it again. Some of us don't speak Chinese, remember?"

"Ah, sorry, honey." Fang Chou scratched his head sheepishly. "Got carried away. It's been so long since I've spoken this much Chinese. Somehow, it feels nice."

Christina's laugh lightened the atmosphere. "It's fine, but remember your promise to translate?"

Sitting quietly, Arvin looked to Cynthia. (Chinese) "What are they saying?"

(Chinese) "Mom is teasing Dad about forgetting his translation duties," Cynthia explained, her voice carrying a hint of amusement. "He's been too excited speaking Chinese again."

Arvin relaxed slightly. He'd worried they were arguing.

Clap Clap

Fang Chou clapped his hands, getting everyone's attention. He looked at Cynthia, who nodded, ready for her role.

"Let's give the stage to Jeremy," Fang Chou said.

Cynthia immediately translated, her voice clear but measured. (Chinese) "Is my voice clear enough?" she asked Arvin.

Arvin nodded. (Chinese) "It's perfect. I can hear you clearly."

Jeremy cleared his throat and looked around the table, eyes stopping on Arvin. "Since we have someone new here, maybe I should start from the beginning? What do you think?"

Fang Chou, remembering his daughter's words at the store and having half-guessed what this was about, nodded. "That's probably best."

Christina leaned forward slightly. "Yes, I'd like to know everything that led to... this."

Jeremy turned to his twin. No words were spoken, but something passed between them. Cynthia closed her eyes for a second, took a deep breath, then nodded. She was ready to translate.

Jeremy sat up straight and began his story.

"Our school, MRS Academy," Jeremy started, pausing as Cynthia translated into Chinese, "got its name from the initials of its founders - Albert Mitchell, Johan Reynor, and Mark Seymour."

Arvin noticed how Cynthia matched her brother's pace perfectly.

"They met by chance at Boston College in the 1930s," Jeremy continued. "Mitchell was a rich kid studying management, Reynor was a baker's son studying business, and Seymour came from a factory worker's family, studying to be a teacher."

Arvin listened closely, surprised at how well Jeremy knew his school's history.

"They all ended up in the same basic management class - it was required for both business and education students back then. They hit it off and started hanging out after class."

"They graduated in 1939," Jeremy went on. "Mark was the oldest at 25, and the other two were a bit younger. After graduation, they went their separate ways but kept in touch."

Cynthia kept translating smoothly. Christina listened carefully while Fang Chou sat quietly, nodding now and then.

"Four years later, they met again at their old hangout, a bar near Boston University. By then, each had done well for himself. Mitchell was running part of his father's business - youngest business owner around. Reynor had turned his family bakery into a chain with ten locations. And Seymour had become a senior teacher at the prestigious Horace Mann School."

Arvin was drawn into the story. Their success reminded him of successful merchants from his village.

"Even with the Depression still hurting many businesses," Jeremy explained, "they'd managed to do well. Johan's bakery was especially successful - so much that Albert and Mark half-jokingly asked if they could invest in it."

Arvin caught an unfamiliar term in Cynthia's translation. Depression? What kind of event was that? He decided to ask about it later.

"But then," Jeremy's voice grew serious, "Mark brought up something they all knew was coming: the war."

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"The war affected everyone differently," Jeremy continued, more somber now. "Albert's family lost several businesses. Johan got lucky. Two years after Pearl Harbor, he got a government contract to supply the city."

Arvin perked up at the mention of Pearl Harbor. His grandmother had taught him about the Japanese attack that brought America into World War II. She'd explained how that single event had changed the course of the conflict, eventually affecting even Indonesia's struggle for independence from Dutch colonial rule.

(So this is the American perspective of that event), Arvin thought, finding it strange to hear about something so distant from his homeland discussed as a pivotal moment. His grandmother had always emphasized how world events connected in unexpected ways.

"Johan's parents agreed to help," Jeremy continued, "and within a year, their bakery became known for helping people in need. That reputation got them government funding to expand."

Arvin listened carefully to Cynthia's translation.

"Mark's situation was different," Jeremy went on. "As a teacher, he saw what was coming. He knew there would be more widows soon, and men who did return might come back... changed."

The room grew quieter as Jeremy spoke.

"The economy was still recovering from the Depression," Jeremy continued. "Mark remembered his teenage years clearly - having just enough to eat, while his parents sometimes went hungry to feed him and his sister. He'd gotten into Boston University on scholarship, a miracle, really. Now with a good job, he could finally help his parents, and his sister was about to finish high school too."

"After a few drinks that night, Mark started talking about what might happen if war broke out soon. He worried about kids going hungry, missing school. He said he might quit his job to teach these unfortunate kids instead. His friends tried to talk him out of it. But Mark insisted - he'd find a way. He wanted to teach anyone who needed teaching."

Jeremy paused, letting Cynthia catch up. "Albert and Johan knew Mark well - once he set his mind on something, he wouldn't give up. So they looked at each other, smiled, and half-jokingly promised to help him build a school."

"They didn't know then," Jeremy's voice grew softer, "but Mark's rambling would come true sooner than any of them expected."

"Three months later," Jeremy continued, "the government announced mass recruitment. They set up registration camps near office buildings. Any able-bodied man between twenty and forty could enlist for six months of training."

As Cynthia translated, Arvin found himself drawing parallels with stories he'd heard about his own country's struggles for independence. His grandmother had taught him how different nations responded to the global conflict, though from a very different perspective than Jeremy's American viewpoint.

"At first, nobody came," Jeremy said. "People scoffed - it wasn't recruitment, it was conscription they say. But then the government offered ten thousand dollars if they pass the screening, plus a thousand dollars monthly during training."

Cynthia added to her translation, (Chinese) "That was a substantial amount of money back then."

"The before empty registration booths were packed," Jeremy continued.

"Most who signed up were in their mid-twenties, then early thirties, with a few near the age limit. Almost a million had registered, but they'd only take half."

Jeremy's voice changed slightly, "Then, exactly half a year after recruitment, something changed. Posters started appearing in town squares - a man with a star and striped shield. Stories of his wins in the war spread in bars. Some people called it propaganda, but it didn't matter. He became an icon. Kids idolized him. Theater groups put on plays about him."

With a big smile, Jeremy announced, "The one and only Captain America, Steve Rogers."

Arvin tilted his head slightly at the unfamiliar name, but before he could ponder it further, Jeremy's tone darkened.

"But then, at the war's peak a year later, everything changed."

"Mark's predictions came true," Jeremy continued, his voice heavy. "America won the war, but at a terrible cost. Almost half the soldiers never came home. Of those who did survive, many were badly injured or disabled."

"Most survivors were experienced soldiers from the early forties. The new recruits..." Jeremy shook his head. "Factory workers with just six months of training - they didn't stand much chance. The number of widows shot up. Most had young children, around four years old. Their only comfort was a thousand-dollar monthly pension."

Arvin listened closely, showing no reaction though his mind worked to understand. The numbers meant little to him, but the human cost - that needed no translation. His grandmother had taught him about how the Second World War had broken countless families across the world.

"Then came another blow," Jeremy said. "Captain America, that symbol of hope, was declared fallen in the line of duty. His funeral procession drew government officials and influential people. But it was the public's response that was surprising- so many people came to pay respects, leaving flowers until the grave looked like a mountain of them and the government had to ban them for the next days onward."

"The mourning lasted exactly one week before most people returned to normal life. Most, but not all. For the widows, life changed forever. A thousand dollars monthly, tax-free, seemed like a lot to many. But these women knew better. Their husbands had earned up to fifteen hundred after tax at the factories. That five hundred difference?" Jeremy paused. "It meant everything."

"Rent, food, kids' needs - it all added up. The first month was okay. But by the third month..." Jeremy trailed off. "That was when the real struggle began."

"Those three friends saw something others missed," Jeremy continued. "While everyone focused on the widows, Mark, especially noticed a large surge of teens dropping out of school. Some as young as fourteen, taking any job they could find to help their families."

Arvin nodded slightly as Cynthia translated, recognizing similar patterns from stories his grandmother had shared about post-war Indonesia. The struggles of ordinary families seemed to follow the same patterns regardless of which country they lived in.

"Albert saw it too, at one of his father's factories," Jeremy added. "Young workers, barely trained, desperate for work. Johan found the same - teenagers applying at his bakeries, lying about their age just to get hired. All of this was for both the future of their families and to fill their bellies."

"That's when Mark's earlier idea changed," Jeremy explained. "Not just a school, but something more. A place where teenagers could keep learning while getting practical skills. Where they wouldn't have to choose between helping their families and preparing for their futures."

Jeremy paused before continuing. "Albert's business connections and Johan's practical experience matched perfectly with Mark's teaching skills. Within months, they had a plan. Albert provided the money, Johan offered space above his largest bakery, and Mark... well, Mark did what he did best - he taught."

"They started small - just fifteen students. But word spread fast. More families came, asking if their kids could join. By the end of the first year, they had twenty students. The next year, over fifty."

Jeremy's voice filled with pride as he finished. "That's how MRS Academy began. Today, it's one of the best schools in New York, known for both its academic excellence and practical training."

He smiled slightly before adding, "Many know its coolest achievement - being home to a genius whose work would later change how we communicate."

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Hey guys!

I'm back!

First off, I want to thank each and every one of you who've stuck with me during this short break.

I actually managed to write one chapter during my time away!

Also, first part of what was originally the massive Chapter 19 (which I had to split into four parts) is now up as Chapter 19! The following parts will become Chapters 20-22 in the coming weeks.

For those who want to read ahead, there are now 4 advance chapters available on my Patreon (patreon.com/ReinScarter). That's a whole month of content waiting for you there!

Again, I can't express enough gratitude to everyone who's still here reading my work.

Regular weekly updates will resume from now on! Hope you enjoy the new chapter!

P.S:

If anyone notices, there's been a slight change in my writing style. I've been experimenting with some new approaches. Let me know if you prefer this new direction or if you liked the old style better?