the dusty smell of chalk, the creeping evaporation of water on the half-heartedly cleaned blackboard and a threatening, unknown message, cast in large letters, that is the beginning of the battle. the opponents take their sides, the inquisitive students eagerly stretch their necks toward the coming, while behind them the ignorance that barely conceals stupidity takes its place. in between, with your back to the blackboard… the ambassador.

his fight has a clearly defined duration. will he succeed heaving the stone over the mountain this time? or will the sheer weight, after endless dragging, luring, and the helpless seconds of poorly suppressed begging, tumble back down into the valley as so often happens? we shall see. there stands the teacher, fighting his battle with himself. the audience is mixed, the saying is simple. if you don’t have a question, you won’t find an answer.