A citizen's year, on one page.
Students in a Crucible school are called citizens. Their home page is not a to-do list. It is the year so far: the quest they are walking, the next waystation, the journal that is private even from the guide, the promise they made out loud, and the six rows of the record.
Where they stand in the quest.
Every quest is a road with waystations. The page shows the phase, the day, the next waystation, and what it will take to pass it. The Hypomnemata — the daily journal — sits right underneath, and it stays sealed unless the student chooses to offer it.
What the student sees first. The quest, the next waystation, a private journal, and the year's record — no points, no due dates.
A record of what they actually did.
Craft. Voice. Polis. Accountability. Shield. Endurance. Six rows, and every line in them was earned, witnessed, and sealed: verified works, stances taken in debate, offices held, audits stood, partners defended, days carried. It is the report card of a school that measures formation instead of compliance.
Six rows, no grades. Each row fills only when something real happened — and someone else saw it.
Hundreds of challenges. None assigned.
The forge inside a quest holds hundreds of challenges across twelve categories — physical adversity, public vulnerability, explicit failure, external service, moral dilemmas, and more. Nothing is assigned. The student picks, does the thing, documents it, and hands it in. Items that require gathering other people pay more.
Hand it in, get it sealed, get paid. A sealed challenge shows what it paid; an open one shows only the button.
The Treasury. One currency — the Talent — with a ledger that names who witnessed each entry. Pledged Talents burn if the promise breaks.
The badge plan. The family draws the year's road; stars fill in on their own the day a guide seals the work.
