Laches: The Courage to Change by Emily

Laches: The Courage to Change by Emily - May 2014 Scholarship Essay

One morning in Ethics class my peers and I sifted the works of Socrates trying to find, between the old man’s enigmatic lines, cracks in the marble Grecian rhetoric that would allow some ray of meaning to reach us. We were reading Laches, a dialogue in which Socrates’ companions ask him for advice on how to educate their sons to be intellectual and courageous. Finding Socrates' definition of Courage was where the class faltered. Just as Socrates reasoned his companions out of their original definitions, one by one my friends’ cagey guesses at the text’s meaning were encouragingly quashed by our own Socratic teacher. Each rejection was like a rev of an engine for me. I scanned down the arduous paragraphs until one sentence transfixed my eyes. I looked around the room hopefully to see if someone else had found the answer and would present it, but all I found were sleepy heads on palms. I timidly parted the curtains of silence, sat up straighter, raised my hand. Then, in a near-whisper, I read Socrates’ clandestine definition of courage: “but I cannot advise that we remain as we are.”

Socrates means that having both the ability and willingness to change oneself is an act of nerve. Humans are often content with comfort, even when they forfeit potential to maintain it, because the world outside their cave is unfamiliar and difficult. The journey to discovery, especially self-discovery, requires resolve. Improvement of the Self is a difficult undertaking, whether it be overcoming a phobia, quitting an addiction, or continuing to attend school even though fanatical men with guns forbid it. This is why Laches discusses education in relation to courage; education is the most valuable way in which we can conduct change in our own lives.

Reading this line from Laches was a tiny moment in a single school day that inspired significant change in my own life. When I finished reciting the line, my Socratic teacher confirmed my answer with an exclamation of approval. From across the room he held my gaze powerfully, and while he explained the concept to the class, I felt as though he were communicating especially to me, the girl who had not raised her hand in weeks, who lacked confidence in her ability to speak and socialize, and who was content merely to observe. Mr. Socrates’ hard stare seemed to say “I cannot advise that you remain as you are.” He challenged me to show that I was the thinker that registered to the eyes on paper but never to the eardrums; he recognized a brightness within me that was going to take personal effort to uncover.

I commenced the hulking and painful task of stripping away the tough layer of timidity that stifled me. To my delight, it was not impervious; I didn’t become an extrovert overnight, but I exposed glimmers of wit and personality that added to the classroom atmosphere. Just as I had done in the Laches discussion, I became the silence-filler when no one, not even the most gregarious classmates, offered an answer or idea. With a half sheepish, half impish grin I would pipe up that I disagreed with one of my friend’s statements, and my classmates, too, would smile, astonished, as I laid out my line of reasoning with pluck. Putting myself willingly before the eyes of my peers was difficult for me, largely because of a social anxiety disorder and turtle-ish tendencies, so it took much courage to change my behavior. However, butterflies never revert back to their soft and earth-bound caterpillar bodies; they emerge or die trying. Now I have removed many of my educational and social roadblocks, which were established by my fear and removed by my courage to eradicate them. For the first time I am participating fully in both academic and social aspects of my education. I have no desire to revert back to cowardice, because I enjoy being immersed in the world rather than sitting on its wispy edge.

The success of my courageous effort to change myself was confirmed by Mr. Socrates. At the conclusion of an interview with him (which I would have been too trembly to sit through three years earlier), he shook my hand and praised my astounding progress as a student; he said I had once been the girl who was too scared to participate, but have become a confident and intellectual young woman. Because I rallied the courage to transform myself I was able to unashamedly expose the truth of my boldness and ability. Even if Greek philosophy sounds grueling to you, there is no doubt that Socrates’ truth in this matter is universal. To someone whose education or goals is hindered by the doubts and insecurities of the Self, I can only pass on this relic of a phrase, the best piece of educational advice ever discovered: “I cannot advise that we remain as we are.”