Hi there! I just thought I'd tell you a little about my interest in literature before I start. My interest in reading and books started when I was quite young. I could never quite put my finger on what it was the excited me, but I've since come to understand it. I enjoy characters, the relationship the reader has with the characters. When a book makes me want to cry if my favourite character has died and upsets me easily - that's a good book. That, essentially, is my aim with this fan fic. If you don't think it does so, say in the comments! (Give it more than 1 chapter though before you do). I love helpful comments! If anyone wants to have a chat about English Literature or Classics also, mssg me ^^
We stared at him in silence. He didn't move. Then, without taking his eyes off the class before him, he stood up and walked slowly towards the front row.
"Do you know what we do here? What I do here?" he said slowly, his eyes sweeping across us.
No-one spoke. No-one moved. In fact, so far as I could see, no-one even breathed. Our new teacher turned away from us and made his way towards the board at the front of the room. He wrote his name in loopy white handwriting.
"What we do here is open your mind! We enrich your education." He began pacing, his hands clasped behind his back. I tried to make sense of his name, but the writing was too messy. Mr Slaus? No... that was a C... Mr Slauc?
"My name," he suddenly boomed, "is Mr Straus. Let me tell you a bit about myself. When I was 9, my mother left us. She packed her things in the night and took off. Poof. I never saw her again. When I was 13, my father died of an infection while we were on holiday. I spent a night at the airport, knowing both my parents were gone, hoping, waiting. Until I was 18, I lived with various foster parents, depressed and bitter. Oh I was an able student, a "fine mind" - that's what they told me. I would often ask myself the question: what's the point of it all? I'm not happy... what's the point of being alive?"
We sat in shocked silence now, stunned. Our eyes never left his face.
"There is always something worth living for, however. So when I was 17, I was introduced to a new area. Philosophy became my life. It helped me think about all the big questions I was too scared to face before. Some people will tell you, gentlemen, that ours is a field of irrelevancy, tired old men sitting in a cozy circle wasting their time and everyone else's. I have to tell you now that this is a lie."
"We are not animals. We do not exist to reproduce and then die. We exist to live! I have more respect to a man who follows his passions - classics, philosophy, literature - cerebral pursuits, than one who forces himself to study practical subjects that don't interest him. What I intend to do in this class is teach you how to think."
Mr Straus suddenly rounded on one of the students in the front row. "You there", he said, "Can you think?"
I peered down at him. The student was Max Levinanne. Nice guy, not particularly intelligent. "I think so sir" he said, smirking. The class chuckled.
Mr Straus shook his head slowly, smiling. "And what about me? Can Ithink?"
"Of course sir."
"Oh?" The teacher resumed pacing. "And why do you make that assumption?"
"Um... well I suppose because you're human... and we all share the same genetic makeup so..."
Mr Straus interrupted him, making a sound of annoyance. "No, no. You're coming at this from a biologist's perspective. We are philosophers in this class. How many of you are scientists?"
Just under half the class raised their hands, some tentatively.
"That's fine, that's fine. I have nothing against scientists, they are marvellous people. The only issue, really, is that sometimes your knowledge obscures the point I'm trying to make."
Mr Straus paused, thinking. "What I want you to do, gentlemen, is forget everything you've learn about science. The beauty of philosophy is you don't need any knowledge, just your mind."
He strode across to Levinanne and rapped him on the head sharply. The class tittered. "Use your mind. Forget biology. Now... let's reconsider the question I posed. Do you know whether I can think? How do you know that I'm not, for example, a mindless robot merely pretending to think?"
Max struggled with this. "Well I suppose sir... I don't know. Is that what you're trying to get at?"
"Precisely!" Mr Straus exclaimed triumphantly. "Knowledge, gentlemen, is a shallow facade, perpetuated by men who think humans can do anything..." He pronounced with last word with visible contempt.
"The sooner you realise how little we know, the sooner we can progress. Now, I'll start this lesson as any philosophy teacher does. We were talking about knowledge... is there anything we doknow? Anything that we know for certain?"
I wanted to answer his question, but I didn't feel qualified enough. I didn't really know how to tackle it. A pretty girl in front of me indicated she had an answer. Mr Straus turned to her and gestured for her to continue.
"Well, I know what I'm thinking sir. I can't be deluded about my own thoughts, can I?"
"That's a good answer," Straus said nodding, "but it isn't correct. You can't know that with 100% certainty. Your thoughts may well be a result of brain functions, and those may well be being governed by another person. What you think is reality, your life, your thoughts, may well be an illusion - no. The real answer is that we can only know one thing."
Mr Straus paused, before making his way to the board and writing DESCARTES in large white capital letters. "Descartes", he said, "considered this problem and came to a final conclusion. He realised that we can know nothing, nothing at all, but that we exist. Whatever we are, no matter how twisted reality might be, we doexist in some shape or form. For us to be thinking at all, let alone considering a notion as complex as this, proves the essential point."
I thought about this. I had heard of Descartes before, but never this principle. Maybe my brother had mentioned it. It was scary - the thought that my life might be a lie, but it was an idea I didn't entertain for very long. It was all hypothetical anyway. Nobody actually believed reality could be a lie. It was just an academic exercise, an abstract intellectual pursuit. I had signed up for this course to fill a gap. I knew I needed a fourth subject, but didn't enjoy more than Classics and English. Despite this, I felt myself beginning to like Mr Straus. He was energetic and intelligent but not patronising.
"Does anyone here do Latin?" My head shot up at that question. For some reason, I imagined he was looking directly at me, but of course he wasn't. There was only one fellow Classicist in the class, and he was famously shy. I raised my hand.
"Excellent. Then tell me..."
"Archie, sir."
"Ah. Then tell me, Archie, can you translate a phrase for us?" Mr Straus paused. He slowly scrawled a phrase in Latin for the class to see.
"Cogito ergo sum" I read to myself quietly, before speaking up more confidently. "It means "I think therefore I am" sir".
"I think therefore I am. Perfectly translated" Straus said with a twinkle in his eye. "The final conclusion of Descartes' thought experiment."
The sound of the school bell cut harshly through whatever it was he was going to say.
"I think that will conclude our lesson today. Think about what I've been saying, and I look forward to seeing you on Wednesday."
I reached for my pad of paper and pencil case, both completely unused throughout the course of the lesson. A few books had fallen out of my bag so I hastily began shoving them back inside. Not wanting to be left behind, I began moving faster. A pen dropped from my hand and dropped onto the floor. Thud. I froze. The solitary sound echoed inside the now empty classroom, bouncing off the walls. I glanced up, but there was only one other person in sight. I zipped up my bag and then bent to grab my pen. To my surprise, I found it no longer resting where it was.
"Excuse me." I looked up sharply at the sound of someone's voice. It was the girl I had seen at the front of the classroom a few seconds ago. I saw my pen in her outstretched hand. I looked at it dumbly.
"This is yours, right?" the girl said shyly. She shrugged when I still didn't move. "Well... here it is!" I took the pen. She was beautiful. I was pretty sure she didn't know it, otherwise she wouldn't be shy. Or, wait... was that shyness, or impatience? I didn't want to hold her back from her friends, and I was aware that I was standing gawping like an idiot. What is this? I mentally kicked myself. I'm not shy with girls.
"Thanks", I smiled at her. Knowing that silence was the enemy of friendship, especially with girls, I immediately carried on: "So what did you think of Straus?"
She laughed. It was a pretty sound. "The jury's out" she smiled. I tried to stop staring, but her eyes were enchanting. She looked slightly awkwardly at the door.
"I have to go meet my friends," she said apologetically, "Do you mind?"
"No, no. Of course not. It was nice to meet you."
The girl turned around before she had left the classroom. "Likewise" she smiled.
It was only when I had closed the door and was making my way to the cafe that I realised I hadn't asked for her name. Then, as they usually do, the doubts came flooding in. Was she just being polite, or did she really like me? Did she actually have friends to go to, or did she just want to get away from me? Then, the dreaded question: did she notice me staring? Was she flattered by it? I shook my head wearily. My mum was always telling me I was paranoid, and I was beginning to agree with her.
With a small, inaudible chuckle, I remembered the first time I had asked a girl out. I had managed it without any stuttering or difficulty. It was textbook. I had been confident and friendly. The most important thing, though, was that she had agreed. That night I had become obsessed with the possibility that she had only said yes to be nice, not to embarrass me in front of my friends, that despite what she said, she didn't want to go out with me. Naturally, these fears turned out to be baseless and we enjoyed a happy and very innocent two week relationship. I was not a nervous or cowardly person, thankfully, but I did have this one minor fault.
I must have been in a sort of trance, because I suddenly became aware I had walked into a fifth form Maths class. Fifteen pairs of eight year-old eyes stared up at me, unblinking. No-one moved. The teacher stared at me with an expression half-way between shock and wry amusement.
"Oops" I said stupidly, before turning around and heading back out. I heard them laughing inside the classroom and my face flushed red. Unbidden, the mystery girl's image floated in front of my face. I sighed. It was going to be a long day.