Ode to Dr. Long

Plato’s Allegory of the Cave is a very important piece to me. The arch of the story about becoming educated and entering into the light resonates with my current phase in life’s journey.

It’s August of 2014, and I am about to start college. It’s easy to ignore the school part of college between getting my dorm room set up perfectly, triple-checking my schedule, and participating in all of those super fun and age-appropriate Welcome Week activities (please note the sarcasm of that last one). But suddenly it’s Sunday, which means tomorrow is Monday, which means I have to go to classes. What if I’m not smart enough? What if I can’t keep up? What even is the BIC? Why did I let my dad convince me to sign up for all these advanced programs? Who is Mark Long, and why is he addressing me as a “colleague” and a member of the “plenum?” Oh, great, he wants me to read Plato for class. Plato?? I can’t understand Plato! The Allegory of the Cave? That sounds hard. Yep, I read it and I don’t get it. College is weird, I’m not ready for this. I’m packing my bags. See ya later, Roomie.

Oh no. It’s time for World Cultures. We have to talk about that dumb Plato guy. I bet everyone understood the story except for me. I don’t know any of these people, the professor is smiling way too much, and I really don’t like talking in class. I’ll just take the desk closest to the door so I can make a quick get-away after class. Ok, class is starting. I can do this. Just gotta keep my head down and not draw any attention to myself.

He wants us to do what? Draw the Allegory of the Cave? Ok, I guess I can try. I’ll just make sure nobody sees my picture. Oh, no. We made eye contact. He’s going to do it. He’s going to call on me. Just breathe, it’ll be ok. My picture isn’t great, but he moves on quickly. Good. Just leave me alone for the rest of the semester and we’ll be fine.

Fast forward to the middle of the semester when the class has attained a regular routine. Dr. Long seems to call on me quite a lot, especially considering the fact that I barely ever raise my hand. I have made a couple of friends in the class, Chris and Hannah, but I’m still not entirely comfortable. Dr. Long refers to the three of us as the Parcae, and we are all a little weirded out, but we roll with it. My journal entries have been getting good grades, and Dr. Long even sent me a personal email about how much he enjoys my writing and wishes I would speak up more in class. Neither of the other members of the Parcae got this type of email, so I feel very special… maybe this professor isn’t so weird and crazy after all.

At the end of the semester, a girl in my class and the PI get together and organize a class rendition of “O Captain, My Captain” in honor of Dr. Long, during which we all stand on our desks and read a poem. It is one of the most awkward things I’ve ever been part of, but hey, how often do you get to stand on a desk? Dr. Long invites the whole class over to his house to watch, in his words, “the greatest date movie of all time,” which is Baz Luhrmann’s “Strictly Ballroom.” We have a great time meeting his wife and his giant cat, Maggie, and then Chris, Hannah, and I head back to Memorial for our usual several hours of giggling, studying, and chatting that has become our nightly routine.

Let’s bring it to the present day. When I was in Dr. Long’s class, I didn’t really understand what Plato was getting at with the Allegory. Last semester in Social World I, we skipped that section of the Republic, so I didn’t spend much time thinking about it. Reading through it again tonight as I sit at my kitchen table with the other members of the Parcae who are now my roommates, however, I’m reflecting on the journey Dr. Long helped me begin and seeing how much I’ve grown and changed. The passage that made me most nostalgic was this one:

“the prisonhouse is the world of sight, the light of the fire is the sun, and you will not misapprehend me if you interpret the journey upwards to be the ascent of the soul into the intellectual world … in the world of knowledge the idea of Good appears last of all, and is seen only with an effort; and, when seen, is also inferred to be the universal author of all things beautiful and right — parent of light and of the lord of light in this visible world, and the immediate source of reason and truth in the intellectual; and that this is the power upon which he who would act rationally either in public or private life must have his eye fixed…the power and capacity of learning exists in the soul already; and that just as the eye was unable to turn from darkness to light without the whole body, so too the instrument of knowledge can only by the movement of the whole soul be turned from the world of becoming into that of being, and learn by degrees to endure the sight of being, and of the brightest and best of being, or in other words, of the Good.”

During that first semester of college, I was fortunate enough to have Dr. Perry for Rhetoric I. He’s another favorite of mine, but I’ll save him for another blog. He taught me that Plato’s most important ideas are the True, the Good, and the Beautiful. Dr. Long has a special ability to find these things everywhere. He helped me see Truth in those ancient texts we read in Cultures I that I never would have looked hard enough to find on my own. He pointed out the Beauty of the themes the ancient authors expressed and marveled at their continued relevance to human nature. But most importantly, he helped my see the Good in education, literature, myself, and others when I was stubbornly fixing my eyes on the shadows on the wall. Even though he is no longer one of my professors, and even though I still don’t particularly like to speak in class, the lessons Dr. Long taught me have remained with me, and I am overwhelmed with gratitude. Dr. Long unlocked my chain and led me out of the cave, and by degrees, I am slowly but surely learning to see the Good.