The Longhorn Quadrille and the Pawn

Alice and Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass and What Alice Found There, are replete with metaphors that could be applied to my college experience. But in each book, I found one story or concept that really “hit the nail on the head,” so to speak.

In Alice and Wonderland, I thought the Mock Turtle and the Gryphon’s description of the Lobster Quadrille could represent my college life to a tee:

“-you advance twice-”

“Each with a lobster as a partner!” cried the Gryphon.

“Of course,” the Mock Turtle said: “advance twice, set to partners-”

“-change lobsters, and retire in the same order,” continued the Gryphon.

“Then, you know,” the Mock Turtle went on, “you throw the-”

“The lobsters!” shouted the Gryphon, with a bound into the air.

“-as far out to sea as you can-”

“Swim after them!” screamed the Gryphon.

“Turn a somersault in the sea!” cried the Mock Turtle, capering wildly about.

“Change lobsters again!” yelled the Gryphon at the top of its voice.”

“Back to land again…” (101)

I did not relate to this passage simply because it describes a dance, believe it or not, but because I feel like a lobster most of the time. I think my teachers take on the role of the “seals, turtles, salmon, and so on,” flinging me out to sea to find out if I can swim, but always making sure I get back to land safely (101). It is a Longhorn Quadrille, if you will. For example, I was recently part of the creative team for a dance show in the bi-annual New Works Festival, sponsored by the Department of Theatre and Dance. Along with two other dancers, I had to write a proposal and a budget for the project, handle casting, work with a stage manager and a tech crew, publicize the event, and work backstage. We had a faculty advisor, but he was more of an information source – a sounding board if we needed him. All the real responsibility fell on our shoulders, and I think we pulled it off. We made it back to land, only to be thrown out into the sea for another project. What scares me most is that when I leave this university, no one will swim out to save me and guide me back to the shore.

I don’t get a life jacket in this dance.
http://www.senoussifreezone.com/safty_eoupment_img/life-jacket-1-s.jpg

In Through the Looking Glass, I was struck by Alice’s movement on the chess board and her progression from a pawn to a queen. “She… came to an open field, with a wood on the other side of it: it looked much darker than the last wood, and Alice felt a little timid about going into it. However, on second thoughts, she made up her mind to go on: ‘for I certainly won’t go back,’ she thought to herself, and this was the only way to the Eighth Square” (176). In the annotations, “Yossi Natanson, an Israeli correspondent, points out that Alice knows she can’t go back because she is a pawn and pawns are unable to move backward” (176). This is an accurate metaphor for my college experience thus far. I am continually moving forward, both academically and as a person. I have no opportunity to go back, whether to high school or to a question on a test. What’s more, I wouldn’t want to move backward. Every experience, good or bad, has led me to where I am today. Who knows what would happen if I changed even a small detail of my life? Additionally, the pawn Alice teaches us that, in the same way we cannot change the past, we should not dwell in the past. If we try to stay in our “space” on the chess board or try to move backward (an illegal move for a pawn), we will never become queens. I don’t know where or how old I will be when I reach queen status, but I intend to keep moving toward that goal.

Power to the pawns.
http://www.conspiracyarchive.com/images/p/pawnTakesQueen.jpg