If I were a rich man

I would create an academy like Greece.

It would be chartered “The Order of Longfellow.”

We would teach the poor how to read,

We would educate the poor.

We would teach the poor all of the mysteries of poetry.

In this, we would issue out our Associates, Bachelors,

Masters, and Doctorates.

The degree would be free.

It would be about dialogue and discussing the meaning

Of our treasures, from Euclid to Aristotle

From Longfellow to Horus.

We would not teach esoteric interpretations.

We would teach hermeneutics to Fairyland.

We would teach math, science and arts

For no cost.

We would teach the geometry of a Quadratic Equation.

 

The way a Bachelor would receive their degree

Is by teaching an Associate’s class through and through, after already receiving it.

A Master would teach a Bachelor’s class through and through after already receiving it.

A Doctor would teach a Master’s class through and through after already receiving it.

Privileges would be given to good teachers, to keep a record of good rapport within the organization.

They would be given this privilege by petition

When they will be ready to do their class.

It wouldn’t be about the degree,

But the degree of knowledge one can obtain.

It wouldn’t be about mere accomplishment.

First, one would need to prove they can read and write.

Then, after so,

Two years of intense study would be needed to test for an Associates.

Four years of intense study to test for a Bachelors.

Six years of intense study to test for Masters.

Ten years of intense study to test for Doctorate.

 

The tests would be written exams

On the meaning of literature;

Tests on the assimilation of knowledge

Into new ideas;

Tests on the principles of math;

 

Reading, Writing, Arithmetic

Without fluffy organizations babying our members

Or weird sounding acronyms.

It would be difficult.

It would not patronize the poor.

It would, rather, set them free from their bondage.

 

The goal of the Association would be

To teach the poor.

To give a free education to the poor.

It would take a poor man,

And make him into a rich man

Of understanding and knowledge.

The rich would want our education.

Educating the poor and preserving literature would be our goal.

 

The classes would be discussions, not rote exams.

The students would discuss their topic for the day,

Be it a Quadratic Equation, be it a Euclidean Principle,

Be it Number Theory, Be it a Wordsworth or Longfellow Poem,

Be it a Literary Theory, be it a Scientific Construct,

Be it a Dialogue of Plato, be it a famous painting.

 

Those teaching the Doctorates would be graded by their superiors.

Those teaching the Masters would be graded by their superiors.

Those teaching the Bachelors would be graded by their superiors.

Those teaching the Associates would be graded by their superiors.

The teacher would not grade the students,

But the superiors would, to see if work has been done.

 

That is just one dream I’d have if I were a rich man.

 

Callous was the hand that fed,
Gracious was that man’s bread
Who gave the man his open feast.


However, like the duck fed in his wilderness
He could not kneed nor roll,
Nor press nor make the slits
Within the loaf for the steam to vent.


There was something meager in his existence.
Something offensive to the man who fed him.
It was like a pet, of sorts,
Which was given the crumbs which fell to the dog’s feet.


There came one day a customer, however,
Who saw this fellow.
This fellow eating his meager loaf,
The strange dance of the baker and the homeless man.
The customer asked the baker, “Why don’t you give this man a job?”
The baker had thought of it.
But, the homeless man had no teeth.
Truthfully, he had no way of doing any job.
He was like a dog in a cage
Being electrocuted every time it tried to come out.
Cramped, it was, very cramped.
But, when it poked that little nose through the crevice
It would get shocked.


What to do with such a one as this?
The baker fed him.
The customer said give him a job.
Which was the right man?
Which was the more just man?
The baker who took pity, but bound the homeless man in his chains?
Or the customer who tried to liberate him,
Knowing not it would only lead to another humiliation?


There came a third man, however…
This one was different.
He saw the homeless man,
And he took pity on him.
He brought the homeless man into his house.
Nursed him like a child.
Slowly, over several years,
This last man became a father of sort
To the homeless man.
This last man fed
And nourished the homeless man,
And soon the homeless man had a home.
He neither could work.
He neither could do anything.
He never would get a job.
But, the homeless man was suffering less.
And being that this last man was not so rich,
But had enough to support himself,
All of his effort was placed into caring for this broken man.
The homeless man died at a ripe old age.
And for his entire life,
He kept good company with the last man.
He was conversational,
Sympathetic,
Warm, friendly, for he owed this man so much
Yet nothing was to be given.
The man was insured a future
Of not the most loathsome suffering.


Which of these men do we fall into?
It is hard to know.
It is always hard to know.
The Baker is the Democrat.
The Customer the Republican.
The last man is the Christian.


That’s about the only way I can distinguish it.