Opinions expressed in editorials on The Central Trend are the view of the individual writer and are not the opinion of the entire staff of The Central Trend or the Forest Hills Central staff or administration.

Is water wet? Is a hot dog also a sandwich? Do you hear Yanny or Laurel? Which came first, the chicken or the egg?

Questions such as these have consumed countless conversation topics. One peer will introduce the controversy in class, and suddenly, an entire room of teenagers erupts in one giant argument—some students pulling up definitions of words while others flail their arms around in exasperation. 

I’ve been the one to shout out my two cents and proceed to sit with my eyebrows pulled together in the corner, upset that my peers are so riled up over a question that someone came up with while in the shower. 

When I originally decided to write this editorial, I thought it would be fun to go in-depth into one of these such questions, analyzing both sides and eventually coming to a logical consensus. 

For example, as an evolutionist, I firmly believe that the egg came before the chicken. Assuming the bird didn’t magically appear out of thin air, it seems that an egg is the only logical explanation for where the chicken came from. According to Darwin’s Theory of Evolution, two species of bird crossbred together to form the first-ever chicken egg, even if the new species hadn’t been labeled as a “chicken” yet. 

Despite this seemingly solid and logical argument, I continued my research with different opinions on the topic and input from friends, family and paradox fanatics on the internet. This was a mistake. I had walked into a volcanic eruption, and to make matters worse, I found myself at the center of it. 

I was amazed and appalled at the length of internet threads that were debating and arguing over an answer that is completely pointless; people were obsessed with proving themselves to be “right” when there’s no absolute authority who can declare them to be so. 

When these arguments ensued in the classroom, students would turn to their teacher for the final answer of wisdom. Everyone would seem to glare daggers at them, daring their educator to betray their line of reasoning. After an answer was delivered, the class would prove that the eruption of Mount Vesuvius did not extend far enough—unleashing the wrath of Mount Tambora.

Some may argue that these lighthearted questions are simply fun and should be taken with a grain of salt. I was about to refute this by arguing that they explode into unnecessary proportions; instead, I realized that these are opportunities to grow as a listener and analyze how much of an “open-minded” person I truly was.  

While I was irritated with my classmates for incessantly posing a trivial debate, I was even more angered with myself, for I had been one of the people to spew flows of heated opinions.

No matter how important it may have seemed at the time, raising my voice rooting for the egg coming before the chicken was a truly fruitless effort. I was astounded at my ability to so quickly latch onto one idea and argue it to the death when an egg is certainly nothing to die for. 

I began to look at idiotic question-based arguments through a broader lens. If we can become enraged over whether the chicken or egg came first, then what about the real issues in our world? If we refuse to even listen to others on why the chicken might be the answer, what does that say about our open-mindedness on other topics?

Spurring these arguments creates divides between people and solves nothing. So, why not instead take a silly discussion and turn it into a civilized and profitable one?

The next time another of these unfortunate questions arises, I would encourage others to not just ask what everyone else’s opinion is, but rather why it is important. Perhaps the “right” answer all along is that there isn’t necessarily a wrong one.