Ethically Speaking

1.1

•- Elijah Fields -•

There was something about the classroom that always made me feel at home. Even when I was working on my degree and working in an elementary school it was all the same.

I was in charge of so much as an educator. I was giving students the necessary information to better their understanding in the field I was so undoubtedly passionate about.

I stood before an empty classroom readying my lecture when the door was pushed open and the daughter of the Dean enters with a bewildered look on her face.

"I've finished," she says as she points the book in my direction.

I couldn't help but smile at this, "And?"

She walked to the desk and set the book down before staring at me with wide eyes.

"Aldous Köhler deserves a medal, an award, his philosophies are so open minded and you can hear the bitterness in his tone when he explains the unfortunate political standing on topics of wide range. He expected such a fortunate future for the generations to come. If he were alive today would he be proud of our progress or saddened by our potential not being fully maximized?"

It was students like these, like Quincie Jackson whose interest for the material and passion for the text really drove me to wake up every morning and put myself in front of a crowd of students ready to broaden their horizons in understanding the way the mind works.

"I'm impressed you took so much away from the text, Quincie. As part of the project you will have to evaluate the book from page to page and give me a detailed synopsis until we can patch together which branch of philosophy he is most likely to fall into. I'd like the paper within three weeks if that works for you?"

She nods, a happy smile on her face.

We hadn't gotten off on the right foot. Her immediate hatred towards me did fuel my interest as I found her scores on assignments to be perfect and refined. That seemed to be just the words to describe her I was sure.

"I'll get on it right now," Quincie had a real knack for this kind of thing and I have no doubt on that.

"Miss. Jackson we have class," I chuckle as she had tried to leave the room.

She turned, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

The class wasn't set to begin for a another ten minutes but I don't think I'd mind the company.

"Right. My bad."

She walked to her desk and took a seat. I couldn't help myself as I watch her pull out her laptop and begin to feverishly type only to look to the book every few minutes before going back to her work.

It was that exact drive that made me adore what I did.

•———•

"In philosophy we ask the stupid questions," I say as I walk the lecture hall. This sentence gained a few chuckles and I simply shrug, "It's true. Plato's theory of forms begs the question, what is a chair? I mean to us simpleminded people, a chair is something we sit on. But we can sit on many a things. Like a desk. So does that make a desk a chair? Or a counter perhaps. Maybe a younger sibling. Does that make them a chair? Philosophy asks ill-minded questions to get an open and honest response. A response that dives into our minds and our understanding of life as we know it. That is why Plato is such a major role not only in philosophy but life as itself. We question the unknown and ask the dumbest question alive, what is a chair?"

I had gripped the attentions of my students and some sat on the edge of their seats.

My gaze followed to one in particular who seemed content with today's lecture, much more understanding than our previous lectures.