A brand new school opens freshly painted doors to welcome its first
students to their first classes.
An enthusiastic history teacher, Anna Chronism,
arrives to face her first students in her first class ever.
In her defence, she considers that she is not
simply teaching history, but helping to make history.
She arrives to find three young women sitting in a
row, all have their heads bowed down, each is reading a book.
She is a bit surprised to observe that the covers
of the three books are exactly the same.
"Morning everyone," says the teacher.
"Enjoying your book?"
"Yes Ma'am" the three say in unison as
they look up.
She gasps. The three girls are dressed quite
differently and yet appear to be physically identical. One has
baggy cargo shorts, loose top and tattoos on her arm, another has a pleated skirt, a fitted black T-shirt, loose blouse over it, and
prominent crucifix showing at her neck, and the third is dressed in a
long pants and a jacket with a belt at the waist. Despite the
variation in what they are wearing, the three girls appear to be
physically identical: same eyes, same nose, same hair, same height,
same build.
As she seeks to calm herself, Anna asks the three
girls what book they are reading.
The girl with the tattoos responds first: "I
dunno!"
Anna asks her her name, she responds: "People
call me Mysteryy. That’s with an extra ‘y’ at the end."
Nodding, Anna asks, "So Mysteryy, aren't you
interested in the book, its name, its author?"
"Yes, yes, I am interested in the book, it is
a great book, I'm really enjoying it. But I judge a book by the
contents, not by the cover, not by the title, not by the author."
The wearer of the crucifix raises her hand
offering her explanation, "Excuse me Miss, it is a book called
Silas Marner by George Eliot."
And what's your name" she asks?
"I'm called Faith."
She turns to the third one wearing a jacket, and
remarks: "You appear to be reading the same book. What do you
think of it?"
"Well, not exactly the same book, because we
each have our own copy. But yes it appears to be the same book that
Mysteryy and Faith are reading. Its proper title is Silas Marner:
the weaver of Ravelhoe, and the author's name was Mary Anne
Evans, but she published under the name George Eliot."
The teacher is impressed. The other two young
women are not.
"And your name?"
"I’m Verity."
"And all three of you are from the one
family?" Anna asks.
The girls laugh out loud.
"Not likely" says Faith responding to
the confusion showing in the teacher's eyes.
"Forgive me my presumption. But you all look
very similar. Perhaps if you each tell me a little about your
history. Who wants to start?"
Mysteryy says: "Well, my history is unknown.
I was a foundling left on the doorstep of a kindly couple. There was
no information left with me, I don't know where I was born, I don't
know when I was born, I don't know my parents. And I don't know much
beyond the names of the couple that raised me for the first five
years as they then died in a car accident. I was then transferred to
another couple who have looked after me for the last ten years. So I
don't know my early life, but it doesn't seem that important to know
it. I'm here and I'm happy. That's what counts, right?"
"Well yes, I'm glad to have you here today,
and yes, I guess that is what counts," admits Anna.
Mysteryy nods and smiles.
Faith follows: "Well, I know my history
perfectly. My parents tell me that I was conceived through the grace
of God on the day of St Peter and St Paul which is June 29, and I was
born nine months later on 1
April 2006 which was a Saturday. This was a sign of God's
blessing because it would have been awkward if Mum had laboured on
Sunday. God has commanded that we must not labour on the Sabbath in
recognition of His act of creation, and His resting on the seventh
day."
Verity, flicking her long blond hair with a hand,
and offers her own thoughts: "Actually, Saturday is the Sabbath.
Sunday is the first day of the week."
The teacher delicately intervenes, "Yes,
there are a variety of views. It’s Verity, right? What’s your
story?"
"I was given up for adoption by my mother who
was a drug addict, and she died of an overdose shortly after my
birth. My father was incarcerated before my birth, and died in prison
without ever seeing me. I was one of three identical girls, but we
were separated at birth and I ended up with a couple of lawyers,
Marie & David. She’s now a judge, he’s a retired lawyer and
they’ve looked after me all my life. So that's my history."
----------------------------------
QUESTIONS
Which of the three girls is happier? Why?
How important is history?
Is
it important for history to be true?
Will
false history serve just as well as
‘true’ history?
Is it better to have a history, even false, than
none at all?
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The
celebrated case of the ‘three
identical strangers’
(https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Three_Identical_Strangers)
provides
a factual - even historical - basis for this thought-story. These identical triplets separated at birth are pictured at the right.
The image at the top of this post shows the Levesque triplets: https://levesquetriplets.com/