You know what they call the fellow who finishes last in his

Hear, O seekers of truth, the voice of Abe Lemons, a man of wit whose humor unveiled wisdom, who once declared: “You know what they call the fellow who finishes last in his medical school graduating class? They call him ‘Doctor.’” At first, this saying stirs laughter, but as with all words born of jest, a deeper truth lies beneath. It speaks of the tension between titles and true mastery, between the appearance of achievement and the substance of knowledge. For in the end, the name alone does not make the healer; it is the spirit, the diligence, and the compassion that define the worth of the Doctor.

The origin of this quote rests in the world of competition and learning, where men and women strive to earn their place among the honored professions. Lemons, a coach who understood the struggle of winning and losing, applied his humor to medicine, a field where the stakes are higher than any game. By pointing out that even the last in class bears the same title as the first, he reminds us that titles alone are blunt instruments—they do not always reveal excellence, nor do they guarantee virtue.

Yet, his words do not merely mock—they warn. For if society bows too readily to titles without seeking the heart of those who bear them, we may mistake the robe for the man, the degree for the wisdom, the name for the calling. The Doctor who learns poorly may carry the same title as the healer of great skill, but only one can truly bear the weight of life in his hands. Thus, Lemons’ jest is a challenge: to see beyond titles, to measure men and women not only by what they are called, but by how they serve.

Consider the story of the court physicians in the court of Emperor Claudius of Rome. Some earned their place through years of study and devotion, while others gained it by flattery and wealth. Yet, when plague struck the people, it was not the name “Doctor” that saved lives, but the true knowledge and compassion of those who had studied with diligence. The charlatans, though clothed with titles, were revealed as empty vessels, while the faithful healers, some obscure and unpraised, carried the burden of salvation. In this we see Lemons’ wisdom: the title is the same, but the worth lies in the character.

The saying also bears a message of humility. It warns us who strive for excellence that it is not enough to simply pass; it is not enough to merely grasp the prize of a diploma. Life will demand more. The patient does not ask where in the class his physician ranked, but whether his skill is sound and his care is true. And so, the wise soul must remember: the true test lies not in graduation, but in service, not in titles, but in deeds.

O children of tomorrow, take this lesson into your hearts: do not be dazzled by names and titles, whether in medicine, in law, in politics, or in any walk of life. Look to the heart, the effort, the character, the fruit of labor. And if you yourself bear a title, let it not make you complacent. Strive to live up to the trust that others place upon you, lest your title become hollow.

Practically, let your actions be these: if you are a patient, do not trust blindly in names, but in deeds. If you are a student, do not settle for the bare minimum, for the world will measure you not by your grades but by your service. And if you are a leader, choose not those who bear the finest words, but those who carry the truest hearts.

Thus, Lemons’ jest becomes an oracle: the last may still be called Doctor, but only the diligent deserve the respect of the name. Let this truth be a guide—that titles are shadows, and character is the flame. Seek the flame, and you will not be deceived.