I have always assumed that I understood what "dead" languages were. At Dartmouth, I have several friends who smugly informed me that they chose to take Latin or Greek in order to take two terms of language instead of the typically required three while simultaneously escaping oh-so-dreaded drill. While I shot these friends of mine the thumbs-up for discovering this ingenious plan, I was content with my own decision to take Spanish, which people actually speak in the real world. However, after attending Classics Club one Monday afternoon due to the pleas of one of my closest amigas, my perception of these languages completely morphed. I came to the realization that for a specific groups of individuals at this college, these languages were, in fact, very much alive.
Let's rewind. Disappointed by the number of times I used "like" and "oh-em-gee" in conversation, my mother rather forcefully encouraged me to sign up for Latin in middle school. At the time, such an endeavor seemed fruitless, but mama Trager insisted that it would improve my vocabulary and that I would "thank her later," per the usual parental statement of finality. Despite her pleas, I quit after two years. The few things I can remember consist of "veni, vidi, vici," Caesar, the word "declension" and the movie "Gladiator." Sorry, Mom! I believed that my apathetic attitude toward the Latin language and Roman history was universal. But upon walking into the beautiful room where Classics Club met, I discovered how wrong I was.
Like the beginning of most club meetings, the members of Classics Club went around in a circular fashion, and we shared what had brought us to this meeting. If we were playing a Classics Club version of "never have I ever," I would have had 10 fingers down in a heartbeat. Classics majors, Greek and Latin lovers, attendees of the Rome FSP, avid readers of the Aeneid the list of fascinating activities, hobbies and accomplishments of these individuals was endless. With fiery speed, jokes were hurled across the room about this dictator and that legal system, some Colosseum and an apparently hilarious Latin phrase. At one point, the professor who heads the club even whipped out a cookbook of ancient Roman dishes written almost entirely in Latin. Before then, I was unaware that such things even existed. For one of the few times in my life as a self-declared professional talker, I was soft-spoken, awkward and shy.
While everyone around me seemed excited, interested and passionate, I sat fidgeting in an antiquated yet cozy room that had been untouched by the impersonal, decorative hands of modernity.
Where had these fascinating people been? Was I too mainstream? Why had I never sat in this awesome room before? This was a Dartmouth I had not yet been exposed to, consisting of a collection of cool and quirky people that I had wanted to meet since day one. Classics Club was a true celebration of the past, yet a wonderful acknowledgment of the fact that history can still be enjoyed in the present.
It offered a departure from time itself and allowed everyone to talk about a subject in academia from a purely leisurely and enjoyable perspective.
At the end of the meeting, our hierarchical system was determined. Still shocked by my inability to contribute to the conversation, I was hardly able to grasp what was going on. As of now, I am fairly certain that we are led by a triumvirate. Future plans consist of movie viewing (we already watched "Gladiator" for our second meeting there was free pizza!), building a catapult and designing Roman-style pots in the ceramics studio. Needless to say, I am very excited.
For anyone who knows me, I pride myself on being outgoing, experimental and a little crazy, too. But until I attended this club meeting, I will admit that I had not yet taken a risk and jumped into a new territory that made me a wee bit uncomfortable. While I do not plan to enroll in Latin and am probably not going to cook that dish the professor shared with us (the ingredients sounded sort of questionable), I will nonetheless continue to attend this club because of the awesome assemblage of individuals and the wonderful escape it offers from the stressful 21st century. Until next time, valete. According to Google Translate, that means goodbye.
