Perhaps

Where does the white go when the snow melts? I look at the question without a clue regarding what our philosophy teacher wants from us. How am I supposed to possess this kind of knowledge?

When our classmaster told us about our new subject, I thought we would talk about… I don’t know. Honestly, I was expecting anything but this.

Last Monday, our philosophy teacher introduced herself and wrote the question on the board. She said that we were to answer it by Monday. Tomorrow, she will collect and grade our work. Our first mark would for a stupid, unanswerable question.

Perhaps the teacher wants to test us on who is willing to work and who isn’t.

Perhaps this question is about one’s soul and where it goes when one passes away.

Perhaps it is about how one loses one’s innocence as one grows up.

Perhaps…

Perhaps there isn’t only one answer. It’s philosophy, after all.

Perhaps… there isn’t even an explanation at all.

I look back at the paper. I can’t just leave it blank. However, I can’t find a fitting answer. I write the only thing that comes to mind: “nowhere”.

The teacher grades our papers in class. She reads through them, puts a mark and goes on. With only 10 minutes remaining, she stands up and hands back our work. We are all shocked. Before everyone shines a big, fat ten.

“This isn’t fair!” shouts the kid who wrote an essay of two pages. The teacher nods understandingly.

“Yes, everyone got the best mark.” She speaks softly, forcing us to be quiet. “I accepted each explanation you gave me. Not everyone thinks the same and not everything has to have an answer.”

I look down. Under my mark there’s my laconic answer.

She doesn’t say anything else, just leaves as the bell rings.

I’m still looking at the question cluelessly. Where does the white go when the snow melts?

Fülöp Csenge-Anna X. R