Latin Kid- Prima

Ashley G.

Professor Zoller
Life Narratives
9/27/2012

Latin Kid

     I was a bit of a dork in high school. I had intellectual conversations about sci-fi movies, was in band, choir, theatre, and Latin Club. “Latin Club?” You may say in confusion. “I thought Latin was a dead language, who would voluntarily study that in school?” Well, it’s not and I did. I took Latin because I thought it sounded cool, in a I- can- go- around- speaking- Latin- and- no- one- will- know- what- I’m- saying sort of way. I saw it as a secret code to be deciphered and an adventure to be had. After all I had always enjoyed Greco-Roman mythology and I decided that Latin was something that I could study for five years (my school started languages in eighth grade).

                      On my first day of Latin I was formally introduced to Mrs. Perry, the one and only Latin teacher at my middle/ high school. She was quite a character to say the least. Her attire was simple yet elegant and reflected the teacher style that dominated schools twenty years ago; she wore long skirts and blouses often with little flats. But the most noticeable aspect of her appearance was her hair. Mrs. Perry, Magista or Gistra to those of us who came to love her, had white hair that was in a sort of frizzy triangle shape. It stuck close to her scalp then puffed out in a conical shape that came just below her petite shoulders. A student once made a toilet paper roll doll of her that had a literal cone of white paper on the top; she kept it and thought it was hilarious. That was another thing I loved about Magistra (the feminine form of the Latin word for teacher), she was perhaps the happiest and funniest teacher I have ever had. She was always happy to go off on a tangent about something that was even the slightest bit related to our lesson and was humorous. In our first year of Latin she had us do exercises where she would say “Insperata, experata,” repeatedly as we breathed in and out. Then she would have us point to various parts of our bodies in a Latin version of “Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes,” which always concluded with us bending and straightening our legs while we did spirit fingers. Perhaps you’re thinking, “Oh then you must be a very good speaker of Latin if you had such a good teacher.” for all those years of Latin I can honestly say that I cannot form more than a few sentences in Latin, but nowadays the approach to Latin is to have it be more of a literally supplement that having it become a second language. It’s not a dead language (though my older sister would disagree) but it is not spoken fluently in common conversation.  

                This brings me to Latin Club.  When a Latin student reaches junior year they are automatically inducted into Latin Club. Its primary, and really only function, was to provide a way for us to go on a trip to New York City every other year. Well my junior year finally came I was ecstatic to go on the trip, despite the fact that the AP European class was tagging along- none of us liked the teacher and weren’t really friends with the students. I myself had not been to NYC in a few years and was excited. We rode down in the morning, hot chocolate and pillows in hand as we boarded a charter bus the club had rented. Then came the three  hour drive to the city, I remember nothing of it, the return ride however was a bit more eventful but I’ll get to that later. Our morning was spent in the Cloisters Museum, a small hodgepodge building drawing from numerous medieval styles. It houses many medieval pieces of art and is an offshoot of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, where my class was headed later in the afternoon. I can still visualize the rooms and the layout of the small museum that houses sculptures of Christ from numerous periods, the tombs of knights and the famous Unicorn Tapestries. Being in the Cloisters is like going into a castle, you feel as if a knight is around a corner going toe to toe with his greatest enemy. Or that you are a princess walking around your expansive home. A few friends and I were quite fascinated by the all the old doors in the Cloisters and decided immediately that each one led to Narnia. I always hate leaving the Cloisters, it is like watching and amazing movie (but better) about medieval times and then having the television break halfway through, you feel unsatisfied and craving more.

The main part of the Metropolitan Museum is equally impressive. The first time we went for Latin Club I had been waiting all day to see the famous “Washington Crossing the Delaware” painting by Emmanuel Leutze, you see I am rather fascinated by – obsessed with- the American Revolutionary War. To my deep disbelief the painting was out getting restored. My friends tell me that I nearly bawled my eyes out in the middle of the gallery. So the second year we went my friends all made sure that I got to see Washington, and see him I did. I never knew how huge that painting is, but it was somehow just as impressive that my friends cared enough to make sure that I saw my painting. There are other tales about that second trip that are currently swirling in my mind at the moment but I will refrain in order to finally make my point.   

People sometimes ask me, “Ash, if you can’t speak the language then what was the point?” Well to that I say, first off that I can more effectively determine a word’s meaning by using a Latin root then my non- Latin versed schoolmates. Second, when I hear phrases like, carpe diem, bona fide, or caveat emptor, I know what they mean. Nevertheless the best things I got out of Latin were relationships. Magistra Perry became an essential part of my day; I never dreaded but always looked forward to Latin class and now in college I miss her dearly. Also several of my close friends took Latin alongside and in grades below me; I would never give those times with them away. We were all in a way part of this little secret society and even had Latin names that we chose for ourselves; I was friends with Andromeda, Ulysses, Silenus, Aurora and Minerva and I was Athena. I will never forget those trips to NYC or the hours spent in Magistra Perry’s classroom with her and my friends. I will always be a Latin kid; it will always be a part of who I am. A small part of me will always be Athena.