I lived completely in a Roman world last year.
I offered Latin through Adult Education. Who would sign up? I was sure no one would. No one was more surprised than I when I had a class. The next few months were a whirl of Wheelock’s Latin, wheedling busy students to memorize vocabulary, eventually realizing some enjoyed their dilettantism, and adjusting the pace to suit students of all backgrounds.
It was overall a good experience, though very tiring. I met some lovely people who wanted to study a “different” language, loved Roman culture, or longed for a mental challenge. Others were interested in the Latin Mass, which I gabble off like a priest though I haven’t heard it since childhood. (Dominus vobiscum et cum spiritu tuo.) There were a few students whom I heartily wished elsewhere, but that is the case with all teachers.
Now I’m in my second year and have added Greek to my teaching schedule. I have squashed my heebie-jeebies and entertain a much more fatalistic view of teaching. It’s a beginning language class, people don’t have time to learn everything, and I now realize it’s more a relaxing outing than a serious Prometheus-like bringing the classics to the people.
What I’ve noticed so far is that my reading has gone by the wayside. I have to get back to Dead Souls. This afternoon at Barnes & Noble I considered buying a Cynthia Harrod-Eagles book. I believe I have been inspired by Ellen’s writing about the Poldark books at her excellent blog, Ellen and Jim Have a Blog, Too. I liked the idea of reading Harrod-Eagles’ 30 books in the Morland Dynasty. But there is a slight problem. You know how I really don’t like historical novels? These didn’t look very good. I read a page and put the first one back.
Dead Souls, I reminded myself.
What was going on at Barnes & Noble this afternoon? Coffee and lounging. I am glad the red-shirt phase is over. One day I went in to B&N and a bunch of people in red shirts with dangling name tags were running around the store. I thought perhaps they were cheap replacements for the experienced workers, but there was no sign of the red-shirts today.
Could I have hallucinated the whole damn thing?
I considered so many books. Did I want a novel about a 1938 teacher in Georgia, The Cailiffs of Baghdad, Georgia by Mary Helen Stephaniak? Yes, perhaps, though I read a few pages, rejected it, and put it back on the shelf. Maybe I want to read fiction about teachers, though.
How about Jonathan Franzen’s Freedom? I did like The Corrections, but I was tired of Freedom before it was even published, since people have been calling it a masterpiece since May, and I don’t want to read it at all now that Oprah has taken him “back” (even though I thought that whole thing was foolish when Oprah banned him from her show after he said something rather stupid on the radio in 2000).
For a while I was dragging around a big anthology of short stories but it would never have fit in my bike pannier.
Speaking of Greek, have you tried any of Mary Renault’s historical novels about the Greece of mythology and Socrates? Most people start with The King Must Die (Theseus and the Minotaur) but I prefer The Last of the Wine (Socrates).
I’ve enjoyed very much what I’ve read by Mary Renault and will try to read something by her this year.
Annabel Lyon has recently posted her top ten books about the ancient world; if you haven’t already read the list, you might find it of interest.
Thank you, Buried in Print! I would have never seen this list without you. I have read most of them, but there are a few I’ve neer hear of.