The temperature in the room is low enough to see. I tuck my hands under my thighs as Teacher fiddles with the projector. On the screen at the front of the room, a perfect snowflake.
“We are as singularly perfect as this snowflake, as any snowflake.”
He pulls out the slide and inserts a new, uniquely beautiful snowflake.
“We are part of the whole, part of the One God-Source, and yet each of us is unique in our own way. It is our duty to perfect our own singularity.”
He walks to the edge of his stage, “Any questions?” He scans the room, ignoring raised hands. “No? Good, because there shouldn’t be any questions. We are each our own person, each unique in our own way. No one should ever aspire to be as the next person. What, honestly, would be the use of a carbon-copy snowflake?”
With that, Teacher twirls and flies away, disguised, again, as the blue-and-purple dragonfly.
Until next time, dear classmates.
The Dragonfly’s Student