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!

Calling for a Culling

Hello! My name is Mark, and I am hoarder of classroom materials.

I finished the annual task of packing up and cleaning out my classroom today. For the very first time I chose to leave the posters on the walls, if for no other reason than I did not want to spend the extra time to take them down.

Everything but the furniture must be hauled out by the teachers so that the floors can be cleaned, stripped, and waxed. Fortunately the custodians handle the task of moving the desks, shelves, filing cabinet, and closet on (wheels). All of this is accomplished by a couple weeks before the start of school, and then we haul everything back in and set things back in order.

After I moved my last cart of books and boxes, I noticed that I have much more than a small amount of stuff squirreled away. Take a look:

Yes. Count them. Six cubbies, three cabinets, and spillage out into the floor. All filled with boxes of books, files, desk accessories, decor, toys, arts and crafts supplies, etc. Looking closer will reveal sets and backgrounds from at least two homecoming floats. All of this useful and important in its own time and place, but a pain to pack and move when the building is dark and silent.

I had planned to spend a part of this year to set it all out and then to find it a better home or send it into the trashcan. The goal was reduce my stash to fewer cubbies... but it somehow grew to more! I now admit that I do have a problem. I had set out a special shelf this year marked with a sign reading GRATIS. The idea was place items free for the taking by any student, visitor, or teacher. This process began with good intentions, but as the work and activities grew, the environment withdrew into the background. Sometimes there were piles and stacks to navigate, but never did it stand in the way of our missions.

Something's gotta give, though. I will make it a priority to sift through all these items and keep only which contributes directly to the teaching of six Latin classes or the running of an active Latin Club. After all, having too much stuff can stand in the way of effective use of fewer, higher-quality items. It is time to sift, cull, trash, and give away things that are no longer making the cut. I have gather these items for 31 years. It is time to apply the notion that less is more.

Greener Grasses

I just returned home from a farewell dinner for two Latin colleagues leaving our school system at the end of the week. Each one is departing for pastures expected to have greener grass, albeit decidedly different flavors.

My first colleague will be leaving her high school program after fourteen years. She taught all levels of Latin, including Advanced Placement and International Baccalaureate, an occasional middle school class, and a fairly active Latin Club and certamen teams. She became department chair and the odd combination of classes and duties began to compound and overwhelm her. She has a husband and two young children. She has opted to leave these burdens behind and will replace them with what will surely be a two-hour commute each way. She will have a lighter teaching load and enjoy higher pay.

My second colleague will be leaving behind his middle school position after only three years of teaching, admittedly not even enough time to get really get his teaching chops established. He has wrangled middle-schoolers in Latin I, Latin IA, Latin IB, Latin II, and Introduction to World Languages. These combinations of classes, including the nature of these young students, has also worn on him. He will be leaving teaching behind for new and different opportunities. He looks forward to greater freedom, less grief, and more chances to explore and grow.

To lose a fourteen-year veteran is a real loss... loss of experience, continuity, and institutional memory; yet losing a three-year beginning is just as frustrating. The departure of new teachers is a very real problem and threatens our profession. Good Latin teacher are difficult to find in the first place, but then to lose them too soon compounds the problem. Each one has made his and her own decision, and I do not begrudge them their choices at all. Indeed, there may even be a little bit of envy.

As I mentioned in my last post, this has not been a good year for me. Besides missing four weeks of teaching due to medical leave and recovery this spring, as well as time out for conferences and the graduations of both my daughter from graduate school and son from college, there were some classes where my personality and that of my students did not match up well, and some students even rejected any enthusiastic attempt to learn and grow. I hope to pursue these dynamics in later posts. I am just about to complete my thirty-first year of teaching. At one point the notion of retirement surfaced and I rejected it because I could not stand the idea of leaving in a negative note, and indeed I had unfinished business. As the year began to wind down and the frustrations that come with formalized testing, certification, and administrative demands, I began to seriously consider retirement at the end of next year. Thirty-two years in any profession is respectable, is it not? I signed my electronic contract thinking that I might wrap things up on my own terms and leave at the end of the 2018-2019 school year. After all, my certification will be due, our curriculum is changing with a requisite alteration of teaching philosophy, and we are getting new textbooks. Sounds like a good time to depart, does it not? Then I made the fateful move... out of curiosity I checked the pay scale, just to see what my final paychecks would look like. I was floored! In only eight more years, my pay was scheduled to increase by more than $18,000! How tempting! How exciting! In order to keep seasoned, experienced teachers, the pay increases significantly up until it freezes at 40 years of service. This put the breaks on any thoughts of retirement for the moment, but I am a bit disappointed in myself because suddenly I am choosing to stay not just because I want to teach, but that I am reaching for the money.

My two colleagues and I have noticed the greener grasses growing in other pastures or even in our own field. Is it really greener though? Does it taste any different or nourish our bodies or souls any better? At the moment, only time will tell.

More about retirement later. 

All Things Considered

As exam week rolls into view, I find it necessary to take stock of this year which, I must admit, has not been a good one, either for me or for some of my students. I am returning to Marginalia as a means of reviewing, organizing, and analyzing what went right and what went wrong in my classroom and inside my head. I am being purposely vague at the moment; just laying out a general road map of personal discussion. Welcome back to me!

P.S. I will also be editing this blog: making updates, deleting nonsense, and adding commentary. I was surprised to find that I started this twelve years ago, and it has been dormant for much of that time. Perhaps it is time to erupt.

Erotion's Parents

The other day in Latin III, my students asked a question that made me realize something about Martial's poem V.34 about the death of Erotion. The parents of this very young slave are dead.

Hanc tibi, Fronto pater, genetrix Flaccilla, puellam

     oscula commendo deliciasque meas,

parvola ne nigras horrescat Erotion umbras

     oraque Tartarei prodigiosa canis.

Impletura fuit sextae modo frigora brumae,             5

     vixisset totidem ni minus illa dies.

Inter tam veteres ludat lasciva patronos

     et nomen blaeso garriat ore meum.

Mollia non rigidus caespes tegat ossa nec illi,

     terra, gravis fueris: non fuit illa tibi.                    10

In line 1, there has been mention of the chiasmus that exists in Fronto pater, genetrix Flacilla and how this reflection of word order suggests that the mother and father are facing each other, perhaps consoling each other in their grief. I generally like this suggestion and agree with it, even using this phrase as an excellent example of the poetic device and how it works. What is more interesting to me, though, is the placement of Hanc and puellam at the beginning and ending of the line, completely surrounding her huddled parents. To me this arrangement illustrates that Erotion exists in a world outside her parents. If her parents were alive, wouldn't "this girl" be more comfortable and loved by the placement between her father and mother?

When reading the poem, we do not learn by the persona, presumably Martial, that Erotion has died until the third line. He sets up the image of a sweet girl by mentioning her oscula and delicias until line 3, a jarring revelation when we realize that she, quite young (parvola) will be shuddering at the "dark shadows" which will be surrounding her, quite literally. Notice the arrangement of nigras...umbras physically around the shuddering girl (horrescat Erotion). The whole image is reinforced in line 4 with the realization that she will have to make her way past Cerberus (Tartarei...canis).

Therefore, if Martial is entrusting the care of Erotion to her parents (tibi...commendo, lines 1-2) before she her soul makes the journey to the Underworld, it only logically follows that Fronto and Flacilla are already there, waiting to receive her on the other side.

I think I overlooked this interesting point in the past because I was so eager to get to Martial's "gotcha" at the end of the poem and show my students the poet's poignant conclusion:

Mollia non rigidus caespes tegat ossa nec illi,

     terra, gravis fueris: non fuit illa tibi.                    10

"Do not let rough sod cover her gentle bones, earth, nor lie heavy upon her; she was not heavy upon you."

And away we go...

I have sat down this Saturday afternoon after our first five-day school week of the year. To put it succinctly, I am exhausted. It always takes a few days to get back into the routine of a busy, teaching schedule, but this year, things are piling up more quickly than in the past. Going into school early and staying late is seeming to do little to alleviate the burden and adds to feeling drained, but I press on. Is it a function of age? Maybe. Is it a function of fitness? Probably. It is a problem, though? No. I will spend most of my weekend wrapping up things from last week and getting things ready for the next.

From time to time I reflect upon what I am doing and decide that I like it, it all still makes sense, and I convince myself that I am still making a difference; I think I matter in my school. I assume that I matter in my professional community; but I know I still matter in my classroom. That space in which I spend eight, ten, or sometimes more hours of my day is still a fun and interesting place for me. My students seem to like the lessons, they learn and grow, and some even choose to come back for more fun and learning after school. So I continue.

This weekend I will spend a large portion of my time on the necessary academic matters: planning lessons, grading papers, and producing materials. I will also spend a good portion of my time on extra-curricular activities: an active Latin Club, with its activities, fund raisers, convention, and certamen teams. Reluctantly though, I find myself spending more and more of my time trying to meet the requirements of the school, district, and state administrations in trying to prove that I am an effective teacher and that my students are actually progressing. This proof comes in the form of specified assessments, now moving into the realm of common and shared tests and exams, the collection of data in each child in a variety of modes, and the creation of artifacts to illustrated quickly and easily to all who care to look the meaning of it all. This is what makes me tired. All else I do out of love and because I have to meet my own expectations.

Fratres Sororesque

Last night orientation for freshmen and other new students was held at my school. This is always a positive, warm and fuzzy evening where everyone meets and greets full of anticipation for new experiences. The new students are excited, and more than a little nervous, about coming to a new school, in this, the "big high school."

I was surprised at the number of siblings of current and former students I will be teaching this year. For a couple of families, I will be teaching three of their children, and in three of those classes I will have siblings in the same room! I can only imagine the conversations around the dinner table on some nights: "Mr. Keith, blah blah blah, and then he blah blah blahed! We all blah blah blahed and rolled our eyes!"

In my 26 year career, I have, of course, taught numerous siblings and, indeed, whole families. This past year marked the end of a family of five! A mom of a graduated senior from last year remarked last night, "And now you've got me for eight more years!" Her daughter was entering into Latin II and her youngest was waiting in the back of the room. Bring 'em on!

For those families where I teach multiple children, it becomes a source of confirmation that I must be doing something right if they continue to loan me their children for the school year and their entire high school careers.

Good Endings Come from Good Beginnings

We had our first meeting of Latin Club officers yesterday, a full week before the start of school on September 3. We met at the local Starbucks after the first teacher workday. All members were present and more than enthusiastic for the beginning of another school year!

While we had already done some pre-planning in the spring, yesterday's meeting provided an opportunity to review the schedule of activities through the end of September and to begin to flesh out some details. We plan to hit the ground running, so to speak, at Freshman Orientation tomorrow night and embark on a busy and fun combination of academic, entertaining, and social events.

So why is this important? Why did seven Latin students come to meet with their Latin teacher when summer is still calling their name (and summer assignments linger over their heads)? The answer is simple. The enthusiasm and commitment shown by these student leaders transfer to the classroom. Experiences in Latin Club add to experiences in Latin. Not only is Latin Club an outlet for fun and social interaction, but it provides well-rounded opportunity for students to grow and interact. The camaraderie alone is invaluable!

Organizing and supervising an active Latin Club is one of the best investments of time and attention a teacher can make for the promotion of the study of Latin. Students take a look a what we do, and how much fun and success we have while doing it, and say, "Hey! I want to be a part of that!"

It looks like it's going to be a great year!

The Blather in Blogging

I wandered back to my blog today after an extended hiatus... of seventeen months! This IS something I am interested in pursuing, but finding the time gets in the way of following through, and then the whole notion slips from your mind until you reawaken.

I am very disappointed in the practice of others making generic, non-specific comments only to advertise their own sites. I am betting that most of this is even done robotically with very little input from the writer other than the original ad. No problem though; just another bother for the modern world.

Anyhow, I have lots to say concerning being a Latin teacher in the modern world. More later.

The NJCL's Century Club

The 2012-2013 Riverbend HS Latin Club has received the Century Club Award from the National Junior Classical League for having over one-hundred members! We have 116, to be exact!

A Calming Rattle

On August 23, 2011, at 1:51 p.m., a very rare thing happened. There was a rumble, a small rattle, and then the earth shook for what seemed like 30 seconds. A 5.8 magnitude earthquake, the strongest in Virginia since 1897, was felt from Georgia to Canada. This was such a thrilling, exciting, and frightening event because "we don't get earthquakes like this on the East Coast." The epicenter was located about thirty miles to the southwest near a very small town named Mineral in Louisa County. I understand that folks in California and elsewhere around the planet are laughing at us for our reactions, but we can deal with that.

It was the day before students were to report for school, and I was sitting at my desk and working on a Powerpoint presentation when things began to rumble. At first I (and others) thought that students were running down the hall, an activity that sometimes happens during inclement weather and the cross country team needs to practice (this didn't make sense since it was a bright, sunny day outside). When the rumble continued and worsened, I realized that this was actually an earthquake. Wow! So that's what one feels like! I counted it as an experience.

I poked my head out my classroom door and confirmed with others that what had just happened had been real. After making a few calls on my cell phone (Surprisingly I was able to get through to most of my destinations), I turned on the TV for news and sat back down to work. A short while later the principal came over the intercom and announced that school was to be closed and we had to leave the building. The structure needed to be checked for damages, so this move made sense.

The first day of school was canceled the next day because some buildings, including our own, had suffered light damage, mostly cosmetic, and needed to be reinspected and repaired. Teachers were allowed to report the next day, and since I still had work to do before the students arrived, I took advantage of this opportunity. The only disturbance to my classroom was a sun catcher nick-knack that had fallen out of the window and cracked. It IS a depiction of a Roman ruin after all, so just some character added to the image there. Some books that had been tilted to the right in my bookshelves were now leaning to the left. The most interesting devastation, though, shown in the photograph above, is the toppling of the Golden Bubo on the shelf next my desk. The trinket is the image of owl, the bird sacred to Athena, the goddess of wisdom. The Romans would probably consider this an omen. Imagine it! The representation of wisdom falling on its face the day before the start of school! What to do? How to react? After contemplation, I've decided to take matters into my own hands and stand the statuette back on its foundation. This is an easy enough task, to be sure, but I have noticed that the image of the owl is top-heavy, with a supporting base smaller than it could be. After some contemplation, though, I think this is appropriate. The foundation of wisdom may be small, but the embodiment of wisdom is full and well wrought. How fitting that we are called upon from time to time to pick up our wisdom, dust it off, and put it back into place!

What is the outcome of all this excitement at the beginning of the school year? The normal butterflies experienced by this teacher (who, by the way, is entering his 25th year and still gets opening-day jitters) flitted away. The shaking of the earth, causing a fright to millions on the Eastern seaboard, puts everything into perspective. The ground may move, but the school remains and is safe. Come inside, boys and girls, and let's dust off some of our wisdom.

Latin? What are you going to do with that?

My daughter Sarah is heading off to college in a couple weeks. She will be a freshman at Randolph-Macon College in Ashland, Virginia, and she has already decided that she wants to major in Latin and, following in her old man's footsteps, become a Latin teacher. She's excited; her mother's excited; and, of course, I'm excited. All too predictable, though, is the reaction of people when she tells them what she plans to study and then what she plans to due after she graduates. Most are surprised, some are confused, and a couple are even amused. She comes to me with stories of recent conversations with both friends and acquaintances who mean well, but just don't know how to react when someone says that they are pursuing the liberal arts. It is almost as if they are disappointed that my daughter isn't going to be contributing member of society who is out to make a million dollars.

I have had a discussion with my daughter that she will need to harden herself to these types of responses and to get her spiel ready and polished. I was also careful to tell her that she does not need to offer apologies to anyone. She is choosing a course of study which appeals to her and will make her a happy and educated individual. After all, she is going to college in order to receive an education, not to prepare for a job.

Colleges should not be seen as expensive vocational centers training the work-force for the 21st century. What present (and future) employers need are individuals who can think, plan, organize, be creative, collaborate, and communicate. Anyone with these abilities can easily be trained by employers to do what is required in any job and to be a contributing member to society. The world cannot benefit from narrowly-educated, close-minded individuals who are merely out to make money.

We, as educators, need to support and encourage students to pursue whatever field they wish after they leave our classrooms. If a students wishes to go on to college and study math, economics, engineering, and the like, so be it. Likewise, if a student wishes to major in art history, English literature, classical music, or Latin, these are completely valid choices as well. Student who go off to get a degree in the liberal arts should not have to defend or explain themselves. One should never have to apologize for her education.

Down the Roman Road: Part IV

Question #4: Why are the sidewalks in Pompeiian streets so high?

Stepping stones crossing a street in Pompeii from elevated sidewalks.
Photograph taken by Emily Gilmore, June 2011.

Again, I have read conflicting reports. Most say that the streets are deep in order to contain the mud, muck, and sewage. Others report that the deep streets are for directing and tracking wheeled traffic and keeping it safely away from pedestrians. Concerning the latter there are suggestions that the stepping stones and even the ruts for the wheels are all part of the effort to contain traffic. I have even read that the stepping stones were meant to be speed-bumps, slowing down traffic as it has to negotiate the obstacles.

I believe (like in an earlier post) that some combination of the two suggestions makes sense. I do lean, though, toward the notion that the street itself was an open ditch and that the raised sidewalks and stepping stones are for the convenience of pedestrians.

Bonus question: Are the stepping stones across the streets in Pompeii unique? I wouldn't think that they would be, but I haven't been able to find evidence to the contrary.

Down the Roman Road: Part III

Question #3: How in the world did traffic navigate those stepping stones in Pompeii?

In my last posting I considered the ruts between those stepping stones in Pompeii and pretty much came to the conclusion that they were deliberately carved in order to direct the carts and wagons between the stones and elsewhere along the route. My question above is directed not at the vehicles themselves but to the mules, donkeys, horses, oxen, and humans that propelled them. Yes, the wheels slip nicely into the ruts but how did one donkey (let's say), bound to the front of a wagon, avoid the stones? He couldn't step around them with the wagon "in the groove" nor could he step over them. Even if he were to step around the stone, how did he not damage his hooves, feet, or legs walking in or over the groove itself? This question tends to give my notion some credence that the grooves were filled with sand or other substance. The same question becomes even more interesting if the wagon was pulled by two oxen. They must have walked been trained to walk between the stones AND avoid the ruts. Furthermore, a cart pulled or pushed by a human would have the same difficulties. Any enlightenment anyone could give me would be greatly appreciated.