Disclaimer: Stargate SG1 is not mine, and neither are the characters of Jacob, Samantha and Mark Carter. I also have no idea what Sam's mother was called, or when she died, but since Mark's daughter is named Katie I thought I'd make her a Kathryn. I also don't know how old Sam is, which might make certain attitudes in this fic a bit on the medieval side.. but then again it isn't a biological 'evolution' that I'm planning here, more of a mental one. The names and personalities of original characters in this piece bear no resemblance to anyone I know, honest cough and I don't even know whether American high schools have parent-teacher evenings like this! Other than that, this is my very first attempt at a fanfic and since I'm well out of school it's been donkeys years since I took any writing classes – please be gentle but ruthless!


It is a surprising fact that 99.9% of all parents are nervous about parent/teacher evening. For some it is because their little angels really are little monsters, and they know it – or because the parents were themselves and remember past punishments and arguments within school walls. Sometimes the kids are excruciatingly slow, or worse they are excruciatingly bright and use that intelligence for anything but study. There are other children who are just mediocre despite their proud parents' best hopes and intentions – or whose parents believe otherwise and hate the thought that they might be wrong. Finally there are the kids who are just plain perfect. Indeed, only some of their parents will make up the oh-so rare 0.01%, because equally surprising is the number of parents who – having achieved perfection – then dream of just a little line-crossing and rule-breaking, to prove that their child is also human.

Jacob Carter was somewhere in the middle range. As he wandered through the school hall seeking the next teacher on his list, he wondered what the point of this bi-annual ritual really was. He knew that his son Mark was a good kid who studied as hard as anyone could expect from a sports-mad 16 year old, and that little Sammie wasn't quite the model student her teachers hoped, but what could he do about that? She was only 13 for crying out loud, plenty enough time to develop. He knew that there were plenty of brains in that girl's head for both of them, let alone himself, whether or not the teachers saw it. If they graduated high school they could go to college, and he harbored some hopes that Mark would follow him into the Air Force one day, and that Samantha would find a nice husband and settle down, but short of that why did he need an update on the kids' progress at school every few months?

'Maybe it makes the teachers feel better,' he thought as he sat down in the waiting area next to Mr O'Leary's desk. 'They have to put up with other people's little blighters all week, so this way they can get their own back.' He'd already seen 6 teachers in all, hearing the same story each time: conscientious worker, could try harder, good marks overall. 'Only another 12 to go..'

"Mr Carter?"

'It's almost a shame that Sammie was born a girl,' his wandering thoughts continued blithely onwards, not noticing the teacher's voice. 'She'll run her own family like a Major, no doubt, and keep charge of every cent her husband earns.'

"Mr Carter?"

'Family responsibilities and 4 or 5 kids might be just enough to keep her from going stir crazy, but who knows – she's so mad about all her projects, she'd need something to keep her occupied.' Jacob smiled inwardly at the thought of grandchildren.

"Major Carter? Sir?"

"Yes?" Jacob turned to see a man about his own age in a tweed suit and khaki shirt, hair far wilder than would be allowed on any USAF base, with horn-rimmed glasses perched on a narrow nose. He noted idly that the man must be extremely near-sighted, since the lenses narrowed his eyes down to a tiny caricature of the norm. "Mr O'Leary is it? Right –"Jacob quickly stood up and moved over to the desk, "– let's get this over with. How is Mark doing this semester then?"

"Mark?" The distant eyes behind the horn-rimmed glasses blinked rapidly, then looked down as the teacher shuffled through the papers in front of him. "No, I'm sorry Major – I'm not teaching Mark this year, he has Mr Shepparton for Math now. I teach young Samantha."

It was Jacob's turn to blink now – Sammie was taking Advanced Math?