aquatic denizens of the deep, bound to their liquid realm, yet today, a fish defying the maxim "water and fire do not mix" swam into our classroom.
As class commenced, our teacher bore a tiny aquarium, within which three little goldfish fluttered in panic. How peculiar, why bring goldfish to our academic abode? Not for experiment, for our chambers lack the tools of scientific inquiry. Nor for nurturing, for such a pastime seems an odd divergence from the lessons at hand. To consume? Surely our teacher is not so cruel...
To my dread, a tragedy unfolded. Students entered with the implements of experiment: tripods, alcohol lamps, and test tubes. With a mysterious smile, our teacher turned and upon the blackboard wrote with bold, powerful strokes: "FISH ON FIRE". The girls gasped, "No, don't! The fish is too pitiful to burn!" Yet, amidst the protests, a chorus of boys chorused, "Quick, light it up, we're eager for grilled fish!"
Amidst the clamor, our teacher sprang into action, gently plucking a bright red, disoriented goldfish into a tube, perching it upon an iron frame, and igniting the alcohol lamp. Oddly, she held the tube at an angle, positioning the flame in its center. Safe from the fire below, the fish flicked its tail in distress, as if pleading, "Save me, please!" Baffled, I thought, could our gentle teacher be toying with us, turning a blind eye to a fragile life teetering on the brink?
"Here we go!" Her serious tone punctuated my musings. Eyes were locked on the struggling fish—some eager, some同情, others merely curious...
"Gurgle, gurgle, gurgle," the water boiled, the fish's breath quickened, its tail beat frantically, its head darting downwards. Yet, the fish seemed to be making an escape. Our teacher's gaze was fixed, as if readying for something. What could be her design?
Tick, tock, tick...time slipped by, yet the goldfish lived, only weakening in its struggle. Finally, our teacher relented, dousing the flame and returning the scarred, exhausted fish to its tank. It swam joyously with its companions, as if celebrating its narrow escape from the "wolf's maw". We were baffled.
"Teacher, is this fish immortal?" our class jester asked, puzzled.
"The water’s bubbling, yet the fish survives. How’s that possible?" our troublemaker inquired.
"Could it be a setup? The fish was never meant to die," our clever classmate suggested.
"It must be a physics principle at play," the science enthusiast offered.
At last, the teacher revealed the enigma: "In the glass tube, hot water rises while the cold stays below. Although the surface bubbles, the bottom remains cool, sparing the fish harm." "Aha, now it makes sense," we realized, nodding in awe. It seems, the importance of physics cannot be overstated, and today, we added to our repository of knowledge, vowing to study harder.
These three goldfish now swim merrily in my own aquarium at home, and I shall forever cherish these "unburnable" little wonders of the deep.