Some of us might feel that, on seeing a lizard perched on the ceiling, that we are witnessing a gravity-defying act. I suppose even lizards sometimes have doubts regarding this feat of theirs. This supposition of mine was validated by this one lizard, which, on a mission to thoroughly understand the physical concept it was violating, decided to enter a physics class.
Having affected an entry into the classroom through the window, this resourceful reptile proceeded to select a suitable site to sit and study the subject. After much deliberation (like our Parliament), it decided (unlike our Parliament) on a premier vantage point – the head of a girl rapt in attention, mind firmly fixed on physical forces, which just so happened to be the topic of instruction.
One cannot, at this juncture, find fault with the decision of our protagonist, the lizard, for the rationale behind it is, naturally, quite rational. Expecting knowledge to flow from a region of higher concentration to one of lesser value, the lizard’s choice of headquarters (pun entirely intended) seems more than a little justified.
Naturally, as has come to be expected by members of the reptilia, its intentions were gravely misunderstood. Pandemonium ensued in the classroom with students, teacher and lab attendant alike employing novel techniques to extricate the knowledge-seeking reptile from the combed, neatly-parted folds of the girl’s hair. Eventually, by means of a metal scale, the lab attendant’s innate skill, the Work Energy Theorem, and an ample dose of luck, the lizard was displaced from the head of the student and deposited on the tree whence it came, none the wiser despite all its efforts in attaining enlightenment.
Reliable sources inform me of the dimensions of the lizard, comparing it to those of that holy book known to all science students, S. L. Arora’s New Simplified Physics. Truly, a creature resembling such a magnificent literary work must have been capable of grasping the rudimentary aspects of the theory of gravity. Alas! All the miserable creature was able to grasp were a few strands of hair which, being of negligible value from a scientific standpoint, would not be of much use in securing the education the lizard had so eagerly craved.
Having affected an entry into the classroom through the window, this resourceful reptile proceeded to select a suitable site to sit and study the subject. After much deliberation (like our Parliament), it decided (unlike our Parliament) on a premier vantage point – the head of a girl rapt in attention, mind firmly fixed on physical forces, which just so happened to be the topic of instruction.
One cannot, at this juncture, find fault with the decision of our protagonist, the lizard, for the rationale behind it is, naturally, quite rational. Expecting knowledge to flow from a region of higher concentration to one of lesser value, the lizard’s choice of headquarters (pun entirely intended) seems more than a little justified.
Naturally, as has come to be expected by members of the reptilia, its intentions were gravely misunderstood. Pandemonium ensued in the classroom with students, teacher and lab attendant alike employing novel techniques to extricate the knowledge-seeking reptile from the combed, neatly-parted folds of the girl’s hair. Eventually, by means of a metal scale, the lab attendant’s innate skill, the Work Energy Theorem, and an ample dose of luck, the lizard was displaced from the head of the student and deposited on the tree whence it came, none the wiser despite all its efforts in attaining enlightenment.
Reliable sources inform me of the dimensions of the lizard, comparing it to those of that holy book known to all science students, S. L. Arora’s New Simplified Physics. Truly, a creature resembling such a magnificent literary work must have been capable of grasping the rudimentary aspects of the theory of gravity. Alas! All the miserable creature was able to grasp were a few strands of hair which, being of negligible value from a scientific standpoint, would not be of much use in securing the education the lizard had so eagerly craved.
It is somewhat disappointing to see such enthusiasm and passion for the subject go in vain, for it is my opinion that this lizard, if provided with the means and requisite encouragement, could easily have topped the class in the examinations, overtaking its competitors, mere humans. In this incident I see a distinct prejudice, an unhealthy one, which must be eliminated at the very earliest.
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