Do you English?

“[B]y being so long in the lowest form I gained an immense advantage over the cleverer boys. They all went on to learn Latin and Greek and splendid things like that. But I was taught English. We were considered such dunces that we could learn only English. Mr. Somervell -- a most delightful man, to whom my debt is great -- was charged with the duty of teaching the stupidest boys the most disregarded thing -- namely, to write mere English. He knew how to do it. He taught it as no one else has ever taught it. Not only did we learn English parsing thoroughly, but we also practised continually English analysis. . . Thus I got into my bones the essential structure of the ordinary British sentence -- which is a noble thing. And when in after years my schoolfellows who had won prizes and distinction for writing such beautiful Latin poetry and pithy Greek epigrams had to come down again to common English, to earn their living or make their way, I did not feel myself at any disadvantage. Naturally I am biased in favour of boys learning English. I would make them all learn English: and then I would let the clever ones learn Latin as an honour, and Greek as a treat. But the only thing I would whip them for would be not knowing English. I would whip them hard for that.”

Winston Churchill,  My Early Life, 1874-1904 

         While on hall duty with the World History teacher, Mea Amica, I was gathering some notes on indirect commands when I saw on one of the pages before Chapter 1, the quote from Churchill in bold. I showed this quote, along with a saucy one from Lord Byron, to Mea Amica. She was grading essays from one of her AP classes and was continually frustrated with how poorly her AP students were writing and smiled when she read Churchill's quote. If I could remember some examples of this heinous treatment of the English language, I would gladly share them.  Sometimes blocking out memories like that are the best for a teacher's mental health. 

           I really liked the quote from Churchhill. To me, it would be great to use as PR to sign up for Latin, so I looked it up online and found the entire thing. At first, when I read the whole quote and realized what the context, I wasn't too amused. Then, I thought about it a second more and realized that he has a point. The frustration that not only Mea Amica faces grading essays but every other Lit teacher and I experience with these darling children is the fact that they have the worst English speaking and writing skills ever. 

      I think if I make a poster with the Churchill quote, I won't just use the line in bold, but rather the whole thing. Maybe seeing it everyday will help remind my kids that they have to have a good grasp on the English language before they can succeed in the Latin language. 

Murphy's Law, go home, you're drunk!

Quomodo miserrima vita poterit!

This past Tuesday is a prime example of that for me. I had just gotten lesson plan notebooks for each level that I teach. As I was approaching the intersection with Central Avenue on Highland, I heard a crash behind me. Before I could even process what had happened, the van that was behind me slammed into my car causing a domino effect with the 2 cars in front of me. I got out of my car to see what had happened. After assuring the lady who hit me that I was okay, I called 911 and noticed the red mustang who had caused the vehicular tsunami was down at the intersection trying to flee the scene. The police arrived shortly after and after about 20 or so minutes of standing in the cold and soon drizzling rain, the driver of the mustang was arrested by the D.U.I. task force (or whatever they're called).

 My poor Ford Focus is totaled. The back of my car was slammed into so hard that the body itself started to buckled. It looks like the back of an older lady with osteoporosis. The back axle is bent and both passenger side doors are jammed shut.

For the past three days I have been so keenly aware of the absolute kindness of my co-workers. My classroom neighbor has given me a ride for the past three mornings and even brought me home one of the days. One of my BFF brought me home yesterday after a very stress-relieving run at the gym. She even let me use her truck this weekend, so I'll have some freedom. It this species of kindness, along with the sweetest  note and Starbucks gift card that one of my darlings gave me this morning, that makes being car-less a little less unbearable.

Tomorrow, the insurance adjuster/assessor is coming to officially determine whether my car is totaled or if it can be repaired. We'll see how that goes.

I guess Grad-school students have to graduate from their high school cars.

Semper spes est. 

Reflecting Too Much Can Make Eyes Cross.

Reflection is a tool that teachers are expected to practice regularly. It helps us to evaluate what we are doing correctly and what things we need to improve. It also gets our heads out of the paper-grading, conference-conducting, bus-lunch-hall-box office- Latin club duty sand trap. There are moments, however, when being ambushed with this “self-analysis” is the least helpful tool, especially coming from 3^rd parties who claim to have never really seen what you do in your classroom.

            There is reason I never joined the military or any other profession that practices an egotistical, machismo model of management. I don’t do well with arbitrary authority. I’m head-strong, intelligent and clever enough that people should pray that I work for the forces of good and not evil. So, it’s safe to say that when I’m told do to some “self-analysis” with no other constructive criticism or feedback, I become little more than mildly upset.

            Telling me about students who never come to get help yet complain about not understanding, or parents whose children are passing with A’s in my class and then get upset that I don’t respond immediately to their incessant and unnecessary emails, doesn't help me self-analyze. Telling me that my friendly disposition is a character flaw, doesn't help me self-analyze. All this does, is infuriate me. And fight back.

            The second summer of grad school is swiftly approaching. Sadly and Luckily, I don’t have sufficient funds to do the full 9 hours. So my plan, like me, will have to be flexible. I’ll first have to get a part-time job somewhere. It really doesn't matter where. In the midst of this part-timing, I’ll first attend the ACL Institute at the University of Memphis (Not too far from M-I-S-S-I-S-S-I-P-P-I). Then, I hope to attend the Conventiculum Latinum at the University of Kentucky to practice building my conversational skills. Then, try to find a way to pay for AP training for Latin, so the higher can no longer deny me, or my students WHO ASK FOR AP EVERY YEAR, my AP Latin class for the 2014-2015 school year. Lastly, though technically in the midst of all of this, take the Teaching Methods class at UGA.

            These will be my weapons, for I will win this war against unsolicited orders for self-analysis. Those who thought I wouldn't fight back, that I was too young or naive to take a stand, the joke is on you. When someone’s asks “Who’s the boss?” the answer will always be me.

            If you have experienced my same struggle as a teacher and you want to contribute to the cause, you can donate anything to my Paypal account. All donations will receive a personalized “Thank you” note and also my eternal thanks. 

Semper contra ignoratiam pugnabo.

Magna Mater, the great Sybil, is dead. It’s for the good of the Republic.

            Epiphanies and realizations are not as instantaneous for me as they may be for others. In truth, the only instantaneous thing about my brand of epiphany is the awareness that a change needs to happen, not necessarily how to do it. That for me happened a few weeks ago at a Latin Club meeting before Thanksgiving break. In a futile attempt, I used that meeting as a practice for one of our novice Certamen teams for a tournament that following Saturday. The other Latin members were meant to act as the other teams with which they would be competing. After repeated requests and pleas for them to be quiet and take this practice seriously, even after a rant from one of my officers, they continued to talk and be rowdy and socialize. I resigned myself to a desk next to the buzzer machine and waited for the long hand of my clock to hit the 2.

            There have been other instances where it seems like my students have been drinking from the Lethe River after each new lesson:

            “How do we know what endings to use?”

            “I don’t know what order to put the words in?”

            “I don’t understand the endings.”

What they have yet to realize is, that these older grammar concepts have not once been shelved to make way for the newer ones, but rather continually build on top each other.

            The apex of my frustration came last night at the Holiday Bazaar. Keeping true to what now seems a stale pattern for Latin Club, we sold baked goods and hot chocolate. Apart from the loyal contributors, who often also remember to bring things on Mondays, I had to purchase the remainder of the items so that we would have things enough to sell. Even then though, with the other clubs, who also were selling baked goods, it is very possible that we made less than what would make at a Monday sale. Getting my kids to help clean up was just as laborious. Then after some random comments about some of the other teachers, the epiphany finally came full circle: it’s me that needs to change.

            I need to stop playing mother to my children; stop treating them as if they were mine with the unconditional love only mothers seems to be able to create. I am not a mom and don’t plan to be for a very long time. These children are not my babies therefore should no longer be treated as such and I need to stop be treated with the same level of indifference that some of my kids treat their own mothers.

            In my eyes, Latin is no longer a family, but a nation. A nation of Roman citizens who are to be governed by a single entity: me, the Ferox Imperatrix. We will learn as a people, fight as a people, and be glorious as a people. Justice, wisdom and passion will ignite the apathetic spirits and minds that had once reigned. Complacency is no longer an option.

Magna Mater est mortua.

Ferox Imperatrix est nata.

           

            

Ad forem vadam

in caverna pulsata tympana audiemus
caeci in cordibus nostris movebimus
parvi augebimus

luces nostri rectores erant
saltantes contra mures
illuminantes fabulae
numquam comprehendamus


in meis trementibus cruribus
Ego ad forem ambulabo
non solum videbo
sed etiam intellegam
quo steti.

Hearts and Pomegranates

Definitions: 

The Heart - a hollow, pump-like organ for blood circulation, composed mainly of rhythmically contractile smooth muscle. 

The Pomegranate - a chambered, many-seeded, globular fruit, having a tough red rind skin. 

In my uselessness post summer, class, move to new house, I've started listening to Spiritus Me Moveat, whom I like to think is my own personal Muse. Images of hearts and pomegranates seem to continually appear in my mind. I love the realism of organs and anatomy, which is why I need to take more figure drawing classes. I also love the vibrancy of pomegranates and their rich color. 

They seem to go together in so many other ways as well. The stories of Hades and Persephone and then Apollo and Daphne and just Cupid in general seem to be the ones at the forefront of my mind. 

Let's see where this goes. 

Aurea mediocritas

A good mother will always say "everything in moderation,"
        a bona mater instead prays aurea mediocritas. 

Another will utter "life's not fair,"
       the mater familias mutters vita est dura. 

Brave fathers have no problem standing with courage,
        while the pater familias commanding cum fortitudine.

Sisters share the greatest laughs and darkest tales,
         mea soror spares no fabella.

My soul tells me right from wrong,
          mea anima compels me protinus.

My mind and heart are my inspiration,
        meae mens pectusque sunt mea musa. 

Survivalism is overrated...

Tomorrow is payday. Long awaited payday that comes at the tail end of a 31day month after the month of endless driving to and from Athens. My goal for August was to ride my bike everyday as penitence for my carbon footprint I placed on Mother Earth in the month of July. Turns out I was also seeking some sort of karmic absolution for the sin of Greed, because even if I had wanted to drive, I had no gas money.
I've eaten my spoonfuls of peanut butter and prayed my morning oatmeal would hold out in my empty stomach for the 8 hour school day, but I often have gone home this month hungry with a headache. I even stashed apples, now a crazy inside joke with two of my students, so that I could save money.
I pray that September, my birthday month, will be less miserable than August and July. Finding out that my extended day pay that I didn't get from February through May may not be making its debut in my bank account until the September's pay check, only inspires pessimism. The ember that I hold for decent meals and an easy commute to work, still has some warmth. Let's pray it turns into a wild fire.

Roman Horror!

At the NJCL Convention, one of the workshops that was held was about the influence of Roman tropes that inspired modern horror films that we very familiar with today.
He cited various different themes amongst Greco-Roman literature, including but not limited to, cannibalism, vampires, the undead, demons and so forth.
One story was entitled Thyestes by Seneca. In it, the brother of Thyestes has chopped up his children and serves them to Thyestes, as well as their blood in the wine that Thyestes has been drinking. Atreus, the brother, is delighted to tell Thyestes that his children will "always be with him" while bringing forth their heads on a platter to show his brother.
There were other stories, that one is the most disturbing to me so it seemed the most appropriate to share.
Personally, I am not the biggest fan of horror movies because they inspire paranoid thoughts and make me have weird dreams. My sister, however, loves it, especially anything about zombies.
I still clearly have Gaul on the brain because I was thinking yesterday about how one would go about writing a horror movie set in Gaul involving the Romans. The Gallic religion is ripe with superstition and human sacrifice, so it could end up being a really cool mesh.
I've started jotting down some ideas, but I need still need to research some other Greco-Roman horror stories.
This topic is really starting to fascinate me, so there will definitely be more to come.

Wake Forest Inspirational Convention

My class is over for the summer at UGA. My group did our project and I even turned in my paper early (I didn't know I'd have access to wifi here). I had a short respit yesterday. My mom even stayed over Tuesday to get my cats since I wasn't able to take them to their house myself.

This trip to National Convention started for my 3 Latin babies and me at 7am. The drive, though filled with the infectious and colorful personalities, was a tedious 5 hours. I'm so sick of driving I could throw up.

After we got our room keys and other vital information to get settled in before General Assembly. Wake Forest is small enough with clear signs of where specific buildings, that it didn't take too terribly long to the dorm. My co-pilot found the map after we parked the car.

......

We've been here for almost a whole day now. My girls are at colloquia, aka a workshop, and I am taking a break before we have to meet for our 2nd general assembly.

Being here as an adult, a teacher, leaves only my imagination to wonder what it must be like to be here as a student. These kids are busy almost the entire time. Not only do they have academic tests and a quiz to test your Classical knowledge, but they have athletic and artistic competitions as well. It is truly astonishing! I must add that one of my most favorite parts is that most of the kids are self-motivated and don't require their sponsors to constantly hound them to participate.

I, unfortunately, did not have the luck to have attended a high school with a Latin program. We had Spanish. Not that Spanish isn't worth learning, it just doesn't seem to light a fire in your soul the way Classics does for these Latin students. I feel a disadvantage when I'm speaking with other sponsors or chaperones, who have their own experiences as delegates at these conventions where most of them also probably gained the passion for teaching the language in high school.

I wish there was some way that Georgia could offer Latin in every high school in the state. I'm sure some people still believe that Latin has no relevance in modern world since it's a "dead" language. Obviously, these people barely paid attention in their Spanish or French classes to realize, that Latin is the mother of all things. These people also haven't witnessed the amount of academic rigor and enthusiasm at both State and National convention to realize that these students have brought this "dead" language back to life and it is thriving!

Those of you who have children that are not in high school yet, remember that if you want your child to really be challenged academically and grow a network of friends nationwide who are just as intelligent as your child could be, sign them up for Latin.

http://www.camws.org/cpl/educators/TCAsurvey2.pdf

From Bacchus to Mercury

Memory shouldn't only be a reflection in the perfect and imperfect tenses, but also a guide for the future. When I was 14, I was en route to getting baptized and confirmed in the Episcopal church in my hometown, one of the steps that I had to participate in every week was Lectio Divina. Now my memory of the process may have slightly altered over time, but basically what you do is read a section of the Bible and with a relaxed mind, you pick out the words that stick out to you the most. It was like the Luscher color test, but with words. Because those words stick out to you, your brain and heart are trying to tell you something and it's your task to figure that out. 

Fast-forward 10 years and you have me sitting here, forever changed by this process and always aware of the power that words have over me.  Instead of reading scriptures out of the Bible, I read the ancient poems and stories from Greece and Italy. 

Bacchus and his crazed followers fascinated me first. The unadulterated creativity that he could inspire seem to rival the muses, my first literary loves. Now, I feel the shift again...to the swift-footed Mercury. He seems to permeate every page I read. Gods Behaving Badly by Marie Phillips, text about Gallic/Celtic religion and The Infinities by John Banville, center around Mercury. 

If you happen to be Greco-Roman mythology deficient and believe that Mercury is only the messenger of the gods, let me just tell you. Mercury is also the god of travelers, commerce, thieves and healing. He not only has winged shoes but also at times a winged helmet and carries the caduceus. He also guides the souls of those who have just died into the afterlife. I don't know where this inspiration will take me, like most things in life, but I have to follow. 

The wings, I think are what get me the most. 

Doctor Who: The Pandorica Opens

There comes a point when scientific evidence and literary sources fail us in regards to knowing and understanding our ancestors. We can only assume what wacky and wild things went on back in the old days. So, I wonder, if the Doctor were to work with archaeologists and historians, would we know more about antiquity. I'm sure most of the time that the Doctor is saving this world and that, but if he is the master of time, would he have the ability to multi-task his way into doing both? 


How do we know that the ancient Celts and Romans weren't really involved with this? 


Dr. Who, can you spare some time? 

The Druid Path...supposedly

Today, Dr. N was on her soap-box in class, but for good reason. The particular subsection of Celtic culture that we were going over today, or at least attempted to begin was "Death and Burials." Death, without any help from Hollywood or popular culture, is intense and tumultuous...and not even for the person who's passed.
The main point that I think Dr. N was trying to get across, in reference to the Celtic culture, is that we have no certain idea about the intent of the types of burials that have been found by archaeologists and therefore must be careful to NOT make assumptions and to base all interpretation on facts.

But there's no written record, so how do we know anything for certain.

This brings me to this guy and Druids. Now, it is completely possible that some modern version of paganism has sprung up and some people, especially those in Europe, may want to call it Druidism.

Let me reiterate...THEY DIDN'T WRITE ANYTHING DOWN.

In fact, in De Bello Gallico by good ole JC, he even emphasizes in Book 6.14 that:

That practice they seem to me to have adopted for two reasons; because they neither desire their doctrines to be divulged among the mass of the people, nor those who learn, to devote themselves the less to the efforts of memory, relying on writing; since it generally occurs to most men, that, in their dependence on writing, they relax their diligence in learning thoroughly, and their employment of the memory.


So, as you watch this video, take what this guy says about Druids with a grain of salt and ask yourself, "Why didn't he mention anything about sacrificing humans or horses?"

Focus on the Finish Line

The whole point of this blog thus far has been to document the journey that I experience as I go through graduate school. So far, my focus seems to be on how I'll make it to Athens in one piece.

Today, one of my good friends was kind enough to take me to Athens on her motorcycle. Without the tortuous feeling of my right leg trying to maintain a steady balance on the gas pedal (I have no cruise control) and the arduous focus on the road, I was able to let my mind wander and enjoy the scenery. The majority of the trip to Athens from Augusta takes place on the backroads through McDuffie, Wilkes, and Oglethorpe counties. When I drive, it's just a blur of trees and tiny towns. On the back on a motorcycle, you can spot the broken stone wall near Rayle, the broken down house hidden in the only trees left in a cleared out forest and the plethora of different smells that would be otherwise filtered by air conditioning.

My mind traveled from thought to thought seamlessly. Then I began to think about the saying, "It's about the journey not the destination."

The actual journey that I have been making each day to class seems to taking up most of my mental and physical energy. So, maybe, just maybe, it's not so much about the journey for me. I'm sure in the grand scheme of things it is, but not for July 2012. Even with that, I can't wrap my head around the fact that I will be spending the foreseeable future working towards becoming a Classicist and maybe/hopefully/definitely an archaeologist.  All I see is the finish line.

It's like when I run. On an actual course, as opposed to a treadmill, most of the time I'm focusing on each mile number that I can subtract from 3.1 or 6.2. I'm not stopping to smell the flowers. When I'm running on the treadmill, I have to keep my glances upwards so I won't see how far I have gone or have to go, otherwise I'll slow down or stop.

Perhaps the strain of driving 4 hours a day is meant to make me focus more on that academic finish line, help me adapt to the blisters, bruises and pain that is bound to face me no matter what decision I make.

I think we had just crossed into Columbia or McDuffie county, when I had a "Real Jillian" moment. The veneer of emotional and internal chaos faded away and my real voice said "Why would you ever let something like that try to break you. Find a way to get through this."

Backroads Auspices, part I

The past week, as I drive the 96 miles to and from Athens, I have spotted several very distinct birds. The first of note, was a red chicken about to fulfill his fate by crossing the road. That same afternoon, I saw three vultures (or maybe buzzards, they flew into the woods adjacent to the road before I could get a good look at them) eating roadkill. The next day, there was a discarded chicken. Then today, I saw a turkey standing in a pasture. 

As an Classicist Apprentice, I can help but wonder, what do all these bird sightings mean? Is there something good or bad down the road for me? 

Archaeology is far from Indiana Jones.

The fun of taking Classics courses is that each of your professors has a specific field that they themselves studied in the process of getting their doctorates. MPP wrote an entire book on Ovid's Fasti, the Doctor was an expert on early imperial Rome, and the Mater Familias could talk for hours on end about amphorae from the Kerameikos. My professor for Caesar's Gaul is truly an archaeologist. For this post I would simply like list a few very pivotal quotes that she has said in only 3 classes about archaeology. 

"Archaeology tell you what people do, not what people think...literary texts tell you what people think." 

"We have fallen out of love with maps." Couldn't agree more.... 

In reference to archaeological digs "Since you are destroying it, you'd better record the hell out of it." 

and my favorite "Women are bearers of culture." 

Book VI: Gauls versus Germans

            Two of my most favorite series in the entire whole are Rome and I, Claudius. I can watch them over and over again. Two scenes in particular have been brought to mind in the last day and a half. The first, from Rome,  is when Brutus, Cicero, Cassius and few other senators are looking below at the new senators, Gauls appointed by J.C. (Julius Caesar, not Christ). They are absolutely disgusted by the influx of new senators to begin with, but Gauls! It's an outrage! The scene from I, Claudius is a little more comical. It's just after Caligula has been assassinated and Claudius, in fear of his own life, hides in the curtains. After the Praetorian Guard have pulled him out from behind the curtain and proclaim the he become emperor, the German guards come storming in. One of the guards have to explain to one of the Germans that this is the new emperor. The German guard seems confused for a second until the Roman shouts "Kaiser" then "emperor" again. The camera goes to the German guards face and he says "Ja?!" and the Roman responds "Ja!" half laughing at him.
          I would not have given a second thought to these scenes if it hadn't been for the homework we had been assigned yesterday. Our group was assigned Book VI. Since there are 4 of us in the group and 44 chapters, we were able to divide them equally: 11 chapters each. I wasn't able to check my email last night to see which 11 were mine, so I opted for reading the whole book to be on the safe side. Now before all of you who know my reading habits get all in a tizzy, a book is like a chapter and a chapter is about the length of a paragraph, so not that horribly long. Holly had offered me a ticket to the Greenjackets game, so I packed up my Loeb edition of the Gallic Wars, and headed to Lake Olmstead.
           The first couple of chapters were about the conspiracy against the Romans by the Treveri tribe, etc etc etc. My section was basically a comparison of the two main groups that existed in Gaul: the Gauls (of course) and the Germans.
            The way that Caesar described the Gauls would make you think that he was describing the tough older brother of Rome. The first description is of the differences in their class system.
            Throughout Gaul there are two classes of persons of definite account and diginity. As for the common folk, they are treated almost as slaves, venturing not of themselves, never taken into counsel. (Book VI.13) 
 He even uses the term plebes for the Gallic lower classes instead of something like vulgus. Without much more description of the common people, he names the two upper classes of the Gauls. The first are the Druids. The Druids are in charge of almost every judicial and religious matter that happens. They can even ban you from participating in sacrifices, which likens you to a petty criminal. The coolest thing about the Druids, though, is that they learn all of their verses by memory. It's not that they can't write, Caesar evens states that when they do write, they use Greek letters.  This is the quote from my Loeb translation: 
       ...the assistance of writing tends to relax the diligence of the student and the action of the memory. (Book VI.14)
The other group are the Knights. The Knights are basically like a typical Roman patrician family. The men are expected to be in some sort of military service, the have the power over the lives of their family, and so forth. The only exceptional thing is that it is shameful for a son to be seen in public with his father unless he is fit for military service. Talk about earning your father's love. Oy!
The Gauls have other distinguishing characteristics but I'm more excited to talk about the Germans. The Germans in the time of Caesar were so beautifully simple. Let me clarify, that I don't mean simple as in dumb, but simple as in no-frills self control, living off the land so to speak. The Germans sought out toil and hardship and remained chaste until they were, minimum, 20 years old. It weakened the zeal of a warrior to do otherwise. They didn't even live in the same place for more than a year at a time to keep themselves from becoming attached to the land.
The rest of the description of the Germans was in one of my group members section, so I didn't read too much more, though I do plan to.

In my mind, Germans win the awesome factor.

This is why Classicists learn German, to avoid this confusion.

Start at minute 5:40 and go to 6:34 to see how the Praetorian guards explained to the German guards that Claudius was their new emperor. It's really adorable actually.

A different kind of 4:20...

My first day of graduate school began at 4:20 a.m., if you count when my first alarm went off. 4:45a.m. is the time that I forced both feet on the floor. I was smart enough to prepare a lot of things before I went to bed the night before, but I still somehow got onto I-20 much later than I had intended. I was a little less nervous heading to Athens than I did when I took the Latin Proficiency Exam, but nervous none the less. The drive was tedious.  The Arctic Monkeys and The Stills kept me from getting too dangerously distracted.

          

      I got to the UGA campus with exactly 46 minutes to spare.  The bookstore wasn’t too hard to locate. In fact, I was delighted how easy it was with the “CAMPUS BOOKSTORE” on the outside. Sometimes the world throws you one. In my pre-class mind, the bookstore was crowded and people were rude and no one would help me find my books. In the real world, there were probably a maximum of 10 people in the entire store, which makes the bookstore at Ole Miss look like a lemonade stand.  The textbooks were on the 2^nd level. I was greeted by a very pleasant bookstore nerd who helped me find my book and guided me then to the register.

           

     I hiked up the sidewalks towards Park Hall. I made it to the front door just before the humidity induced an asthma attack. The room for Archaeology of Caesar’s Gaul was already occupied by other grad students/Latin teachers. I recognized some from the Georgia Junior Classical League State Convention this past April but by their expressions when they saw me, I doubt the memory was mutual. I found a seat in the back, not necessarily to hide from the professor but it was my closest landing zone.

           

      After about 10 minutes of sitting there quietly, half looking through my new textbook, half eaves dropping on the people in the front of the room, a guy set his stuff down in the seat next to me. I looked up at him briefly and thought he looked incredibly familiar. I chewed on it for a minute, and realized that he had gone to Ole Miss and was one of the few other true classics majors in my classes.

          

      The professor, who I later classified as a happy mix of Molly and Ajootian and detests being called ma’am, didn’t even begin lecturing before giving us our first assignment...which was group work. I dread group work like the plague. Sitting there waiting for her to let us choose ours made me empathize with my own kids and also realize the importance of pre-choosing groups for them.  Luckily, my Ole Miss comrade remembered me so he and I and two other people from the class made our group.

      Our very first homework assignment was to find specific descriptions of Gauls in Caesar's De Bello Gallico. Each group was assigned a different book. Ours was Book VI. 

It would have been a decent class except for the fact that an English class kicked us out. I would have stayed  longer in Athens if I wasn't paying by the hour for parking. I headed back home, worked out, ate something, then did my homework at the Greenjackets game. I read better in chaos, less distractions.  

My first day of graduate school ended at 10pm. 

And on the 1093430943409 billionth day, the Lord said, "Though shalt consolidate!"

Whoever decided that adulthood should be expensive must have been born with a silver spoon in their mouth. Personally, being a teacher's kid and a teacher, I think most everything should be free or at a ridiculously good looking low price.
Case in point: My apartment.

At the moment I dwell in an apartment in Olde Town. It's close to work and Downtown. I can access Washington Road and Riverwatch Parkway very easily and even walk to the gym if it's not raining. The downside - my rent is almost $700. For most professionals, that might seem like chump change, but they usually get paid a lot more than teachers. Gotta cut out unnecessary spending and this is one of the major drains on my wallet.

My task: To find affordable housing within the next three months.
The criteria: It must be pet friendly and as close to downtown as possible, ain't no apartment gonna get in the way of my bicycling to work.

Will I make it? Lord only knows....