Philosophy Teacher Accidentally Uses Semester to Discuss Syllabus

It was truly not supposed to happen like it did. The teacher had a plan to teach the entire Philosophy course to the class during the semester. The course was even approved and applauded by the head of the Philosophy department. But at the end of the semester, there was no question what had happened; the Philosophy teacher, Mr. Belmundo, had spent the entire semester discussing the syllabus.

“It was pretty clear after the first day that the syllabus was not something that could be passed over quickly” Mr. Belmundo recalled. “On the top of the page, the name of the class is written. ‘PHI 107: Theories of Knowledge and Reality’. Actually, we sped by that name with only a few questions, but then when we came to where the sheet said ‘Fall 2010’, things started to slow down. Students started asking brilliant questions”.

Mr. Belmundo spoke of how the students ‘questioned about what is fall?’ This in turn led to questions about, what makes a season a season? Is snow real? What year is it really? Mr. Belmundo began all answers by pausing to regroup all of his deepest thoughts, before going ahead into answers which took up class periods, or sometimes even days. The course description began to be discussed in mid October, and by Halloween, the class was discussing requirements. Talking about requirements spun into questions about free will. Does it exist? Why should a kid have to do homework? If they don’t do homework, will the outcome of life really change? What is a final exam really, and how can the value of an education be expressed on paper, or at all?

Mr. Belmundo took up until Thanksgiving break to talk about the book requirements. As he explained, the kids discussed what is a book, which in turn led to conversations about the outdoors, the sky, and the environment, leading to a conversation of paper and trees, which ultimately led to the question on everyone’s mind: if a tree falls in the forest, does it make a sound?

The class discussions were so stimulating that there were multiple days where Mr. Belmundo would walk into the classroom, put a gentle hand through his long hair, take off his glasses, sit at his desk silently and rub the temple of his eyes until the class was over. On multiple occasions, teachers complained that Mr. Belmundo forgot to dismiss the students until hours after the class was over. Mr. Belmundo explained that when discussing the late policy, the kids and he came to a revelation that watches shouldn’t have the power to tell people how to live their lives. At that point, Mr. Belmundo smashes the clock in the room with a student’s math textbook and all the students threw their watches and cell phones into the garbage can.

On the last day of classes, Mr. Belmundo gave a speech about how impressed he was by all of the students. He requested that no students raise their hands while he spoke so that he could give his speech with minimal tangents, such as the meaning of life. And when Mr. Belmundo was finished speaking about the meaning of life, something he had not planned to do, he excused the class to leave. But none of the students left, they wanted to know what class Mr. Belmundo would next teach. Mr. Belmundo said that he planned to teach a class titled ‘Skeptics; doubting that they exist’, in the spring of the following semester.

And with that, all of the students stood up and applauded wildly. They didn’t understand how sound came from clapping any more, but they just did it. Mr. Belmundo was truly touched. Even the two students in the back of the room, who came to every class wearing sunglasses carrying bags of food, managed to stand and applaud. A tear could be seen running down the face of one of the boys, right beneath his sunglasses. Mr. Belmundo had changed the students’ lives, and he hadn’t even made it past the syllabus.

Andrew M. Steinbach©2012