Yes, Autumn Finlan and Hilda Thompson would be proud.
This post is a Book Report. While not exactly what either of them taught, I’m sure they’d enjoy the fact that such a thing could happen after all these years. Both of them were teachers at Greece Athena High School, and at least one thing they had in common was that they were disappointed by the same student.
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"Student learning is the goal."
But what kind of learning? |
Miss Finlan taught English. She was an excellent old-school instructor, long before the time of the Ms. designation. I suspect she would have adopted the less descriptive honorific if the option had been available. Deeply passionate about literature, she was the teacher for a course called “Great Books.”
The first day of class, she began by addressing the class with the question, “What is a Great Book?” A valid and honest question which is not easily answered.
Life had yet to provide we High School Juniors with the lessons that force one to admit how little one really knows, so Russ, partner in crime, leaned sideways to where I was sitting in the back of the room and whispered, “It’s one you hate to read.”
Laughter stifled, it is doubtful that my chortle alerted Miss Finlan to the breach of etiquette in the back of the room. No, it must have been the hypersensitive and directional hearing so common to those in her line of work that prompted her to say, “Mr. Hamilton, if you have something to say, please share it with the class.”
Perhaps foolishly, and definitely brazen, Russ rose, cleared his throat, and clearly announced, “A Great Book is one you hate to read.”
Genuinely surprised, Miss Finlan considered the answer for a moment and asked, “If that is how you feel, why did you take this course?”
Without regard for personal safety, I rushed to the aid of my comrade, and said, “Did you see the choices?”
I’m not sure Miss Finlan fully appreciated our conundrum.
Much later, I learned that though my grades were quite good, I would not be asked to join the National Honor Society. It seems that I was blackballed on the basis of “leadership qualities.” This was something of a misnomer, for my leadership qualities were quite effective. The real issue was the direction in which I chose to lead.
Regardless, I was not inducted, and of course, it ruined my life.
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| Never learned the secret handshake. |
Hilda Thompson was the one person in the Greece Central School District teaching Latin. Though she also taught other languages, her heart and soul spoke to each other in the tongue of the Romans. At the time she instructed in High School, we assumed she was old as the 7 hills, though she was probably significantly younger than this author.
“Latin is not a dead language!” she would exclaim whenever there was any hint that the heinous misconception was being conveyed. In her class, we learned not only words of the language, but also the structure upon which all the Romance languages are built. The hodge-podge of sounds became a framework of understanding.
We also read selections from Caesar. “Veni, vidi, vici!” Why yes, Gaius Julius, you certainly did. And it was quite interesting to learn a little about how.
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Gaius Juius Caesar
Currently remembered for the family salad recipe. |
After two years of Latin, it seemed prudent (even fools can have occasional prudent thoughts) to learn something of a more current tongue. Remembering some of my family heritage, I chose German. When Mrs. Thompson found out, she was quite disappointed. “We’re going to read Cicero!” she lamented, and though I had no idea what “reading Cicero” meant, her tone left no doubt that my choice was a mistake.
And it was. We introductory German students found ourselves in a class taught by a buffoon who had pulled a fast one on the School District because of his native language. After he was exposed (though not literally, not far off), another teacher tried to remediate our misdirection, with only minor success. We learned nothing.
But the real mistake was not continuing with Latin. Certainly worth the time and effort, I’ve never regretted the learnings from the first two courses. And I sincerely regret being the cause of the look I saw in Mrs. Thompson’s eyes. I hurt her, and I’m sorry for that.
And now for the book report.
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The cover of the Penguin Classic printing
also shows Caesar, presumably
after Cassius, Brutus, and the gang were done with him. |
Appian of Alexandria wrote The Civil Wars 100-odd years after their conclusion. It is the story of a tumultuous time in the history of Rome.
I’m flabbergasted by the detail and the volume of knowledge conveyed to one reading a translation nearly 2000 years later. That in itself is remarkable, but additionally, the chaos and societal breakdown contained in the many pages is difficult to comprehend.
Noble Romans? Few and far between. More often, the lawless powerful Romans used all possible means to achieve their goals. Bribery, kidnapping, lying, theft, mutiny, conspiracy, and every type of treachery. Life was cheap, and murder? Nothing out of the ordinary.
So why would I read such an account? To gain insight into how a Republic dies. And how is that? The short answer is self-interest above all else.
While not precisely what Autumn Finlan might have considered a great book, I am certain she would love the irony of knowing I am reading the weighty tome.
And to Hilda Thompson, I must say, “I’m glad to finally know a little about Cicero, even with the 50 year delay. I wish I’d learned in his own language.”
