Mr Hirsch looked excitedly to the source of the claim; progress was being made and there was a slither of a chance remaining within the room. ‘That is correct, visible light. Does anyone here know the speed of light?’ ‘Light is not a wave,’declared one to her friends.The room became filled with laughter. Is this what he had become, an entertainer for the vapid mind? He had finally come to realise there was nothing of worth in this room as there was nothing of importance in the minds of his audience. There was no aspiration and without a basis to build upon, hope could not thrive. Mr Hirsch concluded that they had no interest in learning and he mourned in silence. ‘What is the speed of light?’ asked someone. But Mr Hirsch had already given up; it was of no use now. Hope had left. The lights were gone, the mountain was shrouded in the darkness of an indefinite night. He looked up and said, ‘It depends on how many eyes you have open.’ He placed his belongings in his briefcase and made his way out of the class and out of the building. He took one last tentative glance at the place of his downfall. The sign read, ‘Marygreen Nursery’. He vowed never to visit again.
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