By the remote lake in the meadow on the mountain, Mrs. Snaff sat working on the Sudoku puzzle, acolytes at her feet, working on their own Sudoku puzzles, looking up at her questioningly. "What are the answers? What are the clues?" they asked in quiet unison, gazing up at Mrs. Snaff in her long dark robe, her No. 2 pencil scribbling furiously.
"There is no answer," she answered cryptically to the baffled students. "Understand the goal," she patiently told the pupils. "You must complete the 9x9 grid so that every row, column and 3x3 box contains every digit from 1 to 9 inclusively. The path to enlightenment lies in the process, not the result."
An earnest young student looked up at Mrs. Snaff, eyes full of wonder, "What does it say about the process when my pencil has snapped?" A roar of thunder was heard as a cold rain started to fall in the lush green mountain meadow.
Mrs. Snaff's keen eyes spied the miniscule shard of cracked lead on the ground near the student's left foot. "Sometimes the path is arduous," she replied mysteriously, returning to her puzzle as the pupils contemplated this concept, and the wind blew through the meadow.