Meet the Aurora Class
The first of their kind in Elf Academy history.
Aurora. From the Latin for dawn — the first light of a new day, brilliant and fleeting and unlike anything else in the sky. At the North Pole, it means something else too: the Aurora Borealis, the Northern Lights, the breathtaking display that people travel from every corner of the world just to witness once.
Elf Academy has existed for as long as anyone can remember. Miss Inkwell has been teaching there for longer than she will admit in writing. But this class — this particular group of twenty-one young elves, recruited from every corner of the world rather than from the North Pole’s own community — has never been done before.
Santa wanted something different. He wanted elves who already understood the world as it is — who came from it, lived in it, and could help him deliver Christmas to all of it. Miss Inkwell said yes before he finished asking.
There was only one name that made sense for a class like this.
Twenty-one young elves. Twenty-one different places. They arrived nervous and curious and full of questions, from highlands and coastlines, from bustling cities and quiet villages, from places where it snows in July and places where snow is just something you read about in books.
They had never met each other. Within forty-eight hours, they were staying up past lights-out telling stories.
This is their adventure. And you’re invited to follow along.
Presenting The Aurora Class
He came prepared. Extensively, thoroughly, possibly excessively prepared. He has a notebook for his notebook.
She’s been told what she can’t do her whole life. She finds this information very useful for figuring out what to do next.
The friendliest competitor you will ever meet. He’ll help you up after he beats you — and mean both parts completely.
Ireland’s finest export after music and rain. He has never encountered a situation that couldn’t be improved by exactly the right joke at exactly the right moment. He is always working on both.
She noticed you the moment you walked in and has already thought of three ways to make you feel welcome. She does not consider this extraordinary. She should.
She is quieter than most and sees more than almost anyone. She currently has approximately four hundred ideas and is working on the most important one. She will show you when it’s ready.
She arrived with forty-seven questions, a color-coded binder, and more hair accessories than the North Pole has ever accommodated. She considers all three equally necessary.
She comes from very little and moves through the world like someone who has everything. She does everything slowly, carefully, and exactly right. She knows exactly where she is going.
He had never been further than the next village. He said yes anyway. That tells you almost everything — except that he is also, once he warms up, genuinely very funny.
She is often found in a corner, making something remarkable out of what was previously nothing. She considers this perfectly normal. She is incorrect, in the most wonderful way.
He has never in his life sat completely still. His mother calls him a wiggleworm. He considers this a compliment. He has invented a new dance and would very much like to teach it to you.
Her natural state is performing. She will sing you something beautiful if you ask — and possibly if you don’t. Either way, you will not mind even slightly.
A little odd, in exactly the right way. He tells the kind of stories that make you forget what time it is. He has never once told a boring campfire story, and he has no intention of starting now.
She is most herself when she is moving. She has already located the Academy’s ice rink and has some thoughts about its maintenance schedule. Detailed, specific thoughts.
He built a working catapult out of candy canes before he arrived and brought the structural diagram. He has already identified improvements he would like to make to the Academy’s front gate. Nobody asked him to notice. He did anyway.
He will know your name before anyone else does, remember your favorite food after one conversation, and check in on you the next day just because. He does all of this the way most people breathe — without thinking, and continuously.
Somehow charming, funny, creative, and kind all at once, in every situation, apparently without effort. Whether this is a gift or simply very good manners, nobody has been able to determine.
She knows a traditional dance from every culture she has ever studied. The list is long, and she is actively adding to it. She believes every place in the world has something worth celebrating, and she intends to find out what it is.
His personal motto is “let’s find out.” This has led to some spectacular discoveries and at least one incident involving an umbrella and a roof. He survived both and has thoughts about trying again.
He could convince you to buy something you didn’t know you needed and leave you feeling like you’d done him a favour. He is currently working on convincing Miss Inkwell he is her best student. She has not confirmed this. He remains optimistic.
He has never met an instrument he couldn’t play. He writes his own music. He once submitted a school assignment as a song in three-part harmony. He recorded all three parts himself. The reindeer joined in around the two-minute mark. Nobody asked them to.
She has been teaching at Elf Academy for longer than she will admit in writing. She has never had a favourite student. She maintains this position firmly, and with great conviction.