All About That JCL Motto: A Keynote Address

Last fall, I was invited to give the keynote address at the 2022 Virginia Junior Classical League Convention in Richmond. Here is the fleshed out version of the presentation given by outline:

"Thank you, Chloe (VJCL President who had just introduced me)! Salvete, omnes! Quid agitis? I am honored to be the keynote speaker for this 70th anniversary of the Virginia Junior Classical League Convention. I never expected I would be here today, speaking before such an enthusiastic gathering of Latin students and teachers -- I must admit that I am a bit flattered that you still want to hear from me -- nor had I ever expected to be attending a VJCL convention in the past. As a high school student, I didn't even know about JCL and all its activities. As a college student, I still didn't know about all the fun and camaraderie. As a first-year teacher? Nope, still not aware of the JCL love. But everything changed my second year after I changed schools. David Winn, my colleague at a neighboring school in my new school system, introduced me to the glory that is JCL, and I ended up attending 31 state conventions and even four national ones. In order to discover these new experiences, I had changed my location, changed my mindset, opened myself up to new ideas, and here I am 35 years later.

JCL's theme for 2022-2023 is caelum, non animum mutant, qui trans mare currunt. This passage comes from Horace's Epistles I.11 and, in order to fully its meaning, you have to read this line in the context of the entire poem -- context is important for almost everything in our lives. Here's an outline of the poem addressed to a certain Bullatius:

• Lines 1-10: Horace asks Bullatius about his impressions of all those famous and fancy cities in the Greek East
• Lines 11-21: Horace reminds Bullatius that he is and, therefore, we are responsible for our own happiness
• Lines 22-30 (the section from which our theme arises): Horace advises Bullatius to enjoy each hour as it passes -- an echo of his carpe diem theme in his Odes.

Now, what is the context of our theme and what does it all mean? Again, caelum, non animum mutant, qui trans mare currunt, and here is my translation of the last section of this Epistle:

You be thankful for whatever time god has granted you

and do not put sweet things off until next year,

so that, wherever you have been, you can say that you lived happily;

for if reason and discretion carry away our troubles,

and not a place looking out over a wide stretch of sea,

those, who rush across the sea, change their location, not their mindset.

Idle busyness troubles all of us; with ships and chariots

we seek to live well. What you seek is right here,

it's at Ulubrae, if you keep a level head.

Note: Ulubrae is a tiny village, literally a back-water, located on the Pomptine Marshes near Rome and famous for its incessantly noisy frogs.

So, what is the relevance of this theme to us as we celebrate all things JCL? There is a big, beautiful world out there -- go experience it! In other words, when in Rome, do (somewhat) as the Romans do. But, keep yourself grounded with the comforts and familiarity of home. You must enjoy life as it comes, as you have it, as you know it -- seize the day! Don't go rushing off to new places simply expecting things to be different -- you can change your sky, your location (caelum), but to live the happy life, you have to change what's inside you, you mind, your heart, your mindset (animus).

So, on that note, I wish you a fun, exciting, and educational VJCL convention! Thank you!"

Do Not Seize the Day

It seems today is the day for classical literacy. Behold this humorous take on the whole carpe diem theme:

ad nauseam

I came across "ad nauseam" twice this morning in my readings. The Latin phrase means "to the point of sickness or disgust," particularly referring to seasickness, that wretching result experienced by those sailing upon a fitful sea. It is used adverbially (I never stopped to think about its part of speech) to indicate that some action has gone on far too long and is beginning to make the recipient ill, or wish they were sick to make a hasty exit.

Attempting to find a classical source for this phrase, I entered into the Perseus Digital Library which holds allows scholars to search Greek and Latin texts for words exactly like this, and I found no such occurrence from the ancient world.

The online Merriam-Webster Dictionary indicates that the phrase was first used in 1644, but does not cite any context or source. Furthermore, the entry for ad nauseam in the online Collins Dictionary offers this nifty chart of how often this phrase appears throughout the history of literature:

Who would have thought that ad nauseam would have its hey-day in the early to mid-20th century?

This phrase sounds a but hyperbolic, but I have had the experience of enduring a situation which lasted well to the point of sickness. I once was in Rome with my students on a guided tour, on which the clueless tour guide marched us directly up the stairs in the Colosseum to a sunny, open spot in a ruined vault and then lectured us about the history of Rome. We stood crowded together in the hot, Italian sun for nearly an hour. At the end of this history lesson which droned on ad nauseam, we were hot, a little burned, sweating, becoming dizzy, and a bit nauseous. Needless to say, we had to nudge him along from this lecturn and move us on to more interesting things.

Finally, while rooting around and looking for interesting things about ad nauseam, I came across a fun entry from Heidi Stevens at the Chicago Tribune: give it a read.

Short, Doable Latin

David Pellegrino, a retired, high school Latin teacher who lives in Upstate New York, occasionally shares on Facebook "short, doable Latin," which teachers can use with their students. Here is his post from Friday, February 24:

Cicero Basilo sal.

Tibi gratulor, mihi gaudeo; te amo, tua tueor; a te amari et, quid agas quidque agatur, certior fieri volo.

Cicero, Ad Familiares VI.15

I particularly like the passage's variety of pronouns, something students frequently need to review: tibi, mihi, te, and a te, not to mention the substantive use of the possessive adjective tua. Reading this letter also gives the opportunity to review the subjunctive use of the indirect question: quid agas quidque agatur set up by the Latin idiom certior fieri. There is a lot of Latin packed into this brief missive.

Here is my literal translation in the Latin word order:

"Cicero to Basilus greetings. To you I give thanks; for myself I rejoice; you I love, your things I watch over; by you to be loved and, what you are doing and what is being done, more certain to be made I want."

Now here is my polished translation:

"Greetings to Basilus from Cicero! Congratulations to you! I am so happy! I love you and am taking care of your personal affairs. I hope the feelings are mutual. Let me know how you're doing and what's going on."

Apparently this is the congratulatory message sent by Cicero to one Lucius Minucius Basilus, one of the conspirators who is taking refuge or has fled after the assassination of Julius Caesar. This context explains the expressions of congratulations, thanks, and affection for Basilus from Cicero, who was no fan of Caesar or his politics.

The Emperor Decius Still Looks On

A bust of the Roman emperor Decius, who ruled during the mid-3rd century CE. I captured this image in the Capitoline Museums during my last visit to Rome in 2014. I love the angle and the contrast between the light and shadows.

Otium cum dignitate

Retirement came easily, more easily than I had expected or ever planned. When I began my teaching career in 1987, retirement was far from my thoughts, as it should have been. The end was far too final and much too far away to be considered. In subsequent years, when retirement was mentioned or experienced by colleagues, I replied that this was not in the realm of possibility for me, and, besides, what would I do? How would I spend my time? How could I ever afford it? I would often say that I would teach as long as I could and they would have to drag me out of the classroom.

 

Fast forward to 2021. The world was different, and I had changed, too, having grown older, wiser, and more experienced, but frustrations, disillusionment, and the constant grind was wearing me down. Teaching and learning and life were nothing like they were back in the '80s. Sometimes I thought that those issues which distracted from my ability to make a positive difference came from my failure to completely grow and adapt to the world changing around me. Other times I thought the opposite, that I was doing the right thing in the best way, and the world was failing to conform to me. I guess this statement says a lot about the accuracy of my thoughts.

Beginning around 2015, teaching started to become more difficult for me, socially, physically, emotionally, and practically. Demands from students, parents, and administrators continued to increase. There were increasingly more distractions, more discouraging criticism from local, state, and national politics, leading to less accountability for real growth by students, resulting in much less satisfaction and enjoyment.

My final day in the classroom was Thursday, March 12, 2020. The reports of the spread of COVID-19 were becoming more dire and frightening. My school division closed all its schools for that Friday (yes, the 13th) before spring break scheduled for the next week. They would soon add an extra week to spring break in an attempt to give the spread of this disease time to level off and begin to decline. The pandemic was upon us. We would not return to school for the rest of the school year. Attempts were made to provide work and enrichment, but very few students participated. We all know the stories.

For the 2020-2021 school year, a year like no other for teachers, students, and parents, I spent the first semester teaching online from home. Because of health concerns exacerbated by some medical conditions, I opted to isolate myself from possible exposure to the coronavirus. Teaching remotely was not an easy task. I had some students (some physically attending school and just as many tuning in from home) at my high school and, due to declining enrollment, others at a neighboring middle school. This teaching assignment with two schools give rise to different class schedules, nine different preparations, different online platforms, and wholly different expectations. To be sure, it became tedious, overwhelming, and wholly unsustainable.

For the second semester I was among the lucky few who, with a letter from my physician, were granted the extension to continue teaching from home. I continued to press forward through a heavily-adapted curriculum, trying to remain upbeat and positive, and even offering after-school activities for those few students who wanted to keep the Latin Club alive. But I knew that I could not continue like this, then things started to happy quickly. At an annual meeting with our financial advisor, I commented, half-jokingly, that I would like to retire, an idea I didn't think possible because of the financial uncertainties. He crunched the numbers and said confidently, "Yeah, you can do that. We can make that work." I was surprised and even relieved, but I did not hesitate. My reply was, "Great! Let's make it happen!" I contacted our school system's Human Resources Department and got started on the paperwork, which was a more complicated task that I had anticipated, but it really didn't matter. I had made my decision to bring my teaching career to a close and working through the bureaucracy was going to be well worth it.

Almost a year to the day of that last time in my classroom, during the second spring break of teaching during the pandemic, I returned to school with my wife and son. I entered my room, which had now been reassigned to an English teacher, and packed up my belongings which had been moved to the side and the back. We hauled off my books, posters, toys, and other personal items from there and from storage, and then I snapped the last photograph, locked the door, and left the building, without seeing or speaking to anyone. I wanted to leave quietly.

I finished out this last semester, struggling to keep the students moving forward. I didn't make any formal announcement about not coming coming back the next year until word got out, as it it typically does. I can still remember that last day in late May as vividly as my very first one 34 years earlier. There are certain things you can never forget. I finished that last day, trying to impart some final words of wisdom to my students, but not really meeting with success. The "final bell" rang, the students signed out, and I shut down Google Classroom. I turned off my computer. I was done.

When I walked into my classroom for the very time, I didn't know or care what my last day teaching would be like, but I know neither I nor anyone else would have anticipated how teaching would work during a global pandemic. Indeed, these circumstances hastened my exit and made it a much more logical decision to make. It provided an easy and logical end to my career.

Many Happy Returns

I am returning to my blog after a nearly five-year hiatus. Of course this statement is technically correct, but I notice I really haven't published more than 10 posts a year since 2011, and that was 12 years ago. I am also quite surprised to see that it has been a little over 17 years since I started this whole on-again, off-again venture. I must admit that my writing has often been abandoned but not entirely forgotten. These breaks from writing have not been intentional, but, as a teacher, penning your thoughts and sharing them to the world has always been one of those activities which has always taken a back seat to more pressing and necessary tasks. Now, though, the urge to write and compose and post has returned. We'll see how this goes.

After opening my neglected blog yesterday, and then resetting the password to regain the ability to make edits, I began to tinker with the site, make some updates, and reread some of my old posts. Oh boy, I really do need to revise and polish some of those earlier articles! The biggest change I made to the site, though, (and this is a doozy) is the addition of the adjective "retired" to the phrase "high school Latin teacher" in the subtitle. Much more about that news later!