Project 1 Draft #2

Marya Ali

Mat Wenzel

ENC 2135-63

8 October 2017

Flashes of rich purple and shiny gold. Flowy white cloth marching. Leather sandals tied around feet. Ornate crowns carefully crafted from laurel leaves. Passionate voices and shouts of brothers and sisters come together in unison.

Despite what you may envision, what I am describing is not some extravagant congregation in ancient Rome but one of a kind of “Roman descendants” who proudly carry on that honorary torch of the great ancient civilizations of Greece and Rome in celebration of their literature, language, and arts, The National Junior Classical League.

When I was a small spare girl barely beginning middle school, I was faced with what one would consider during that age to be an important choice to be made, a turning point of sorts. Which language should I take for the next two years of my life possibly even four considering high school class requirements? Yes, there were much less nerdy issues to worry about, but that’s what I am, a nerd. It felt like every Pokemon game I had played as a child. At the beginning of the game, I was faced with three choices that would determine how my game went. Here, again, I had three choices. However, I was always certain with my choices there. Here there was no clear option as simple as fire types are just better. My supportive parents were split as well. I had taken Spanish for all 5 years in Elementary school. That should make it a clear choice right? On the other hand, my ambitions are to become a physician, and I was told that the fields of science and medicine were full of Latin and the classics, influence of Hippocrates, Greek Derivatives, and great ancient thinkers. I reasoned in my head that Spanish was also a great skill to choose for a prospective physician. However, what was it that I wanted to take?

I cannot say that I remember for certain how I concluded this dilemma. There was no magical “aha” moment like there are in movies or some sort of suddenly realized clarity that literally or figuratively lit the path for me. However, what I do remember is that something kept drawing me to that little room at the left end of school. My heart felt pulled there and even without intending, I kept having coincidences that would lead to that same warm place. It felt like home. And, that is exactly what it is, a family.

Quick hands. Sharp buzzes. The smell of old books. Empty campus. A room full of people laughing. Yes, he really did lose to chickens in the ocean from his boat! I swear it happened in that story! I don’t care if it’s a small detail! Yes, I did just recognize the artist of that vase from the shape of the handles! I understand that they look similar, but clearly, these two words are derived from different roots! Here, here, look it up! Aha! I found it! A bunch of nerds.

The sky is clear. The day is hot. The seemingly never-ending line of togas continues forward. The air is full of excitement. Surrounded by our dearest friends, we raise our cheers, each one louder than the last. Many becoming one. Yet, out of many, there being each one.

That door kept drawing me to it. I found myself following my more knowledgeable friends to that little room, the one full of mirrors, books, and classical art. What are those? Latin flashcards? Let me see! I remember hearing little Latin myths and the Latin Club’s tales of its own. Crowds of togas singing karaoke. Roman soldiers playing the mysterious 5 card mao. I would catch glimpses of the moments these tales foretold through that little door. A hippogriff sewn on canvas. A large Roman marching flag. Students spending their afternoons talking about and playing a game to see who was the fastest with their Latin skills.

Perhaps, I wanted to find out the mystic behind those wonderful tales. Perhaps, I was fascinated by the vibrant art spilling out of the little door. Perhaps, I fell in love with the passion of the Latin Family. I found that passion to be so contagious. Once I passed through that little door, I was thrown back in time. I felt like I had stepped into a lively debate in Ancient Rome or perhaps a learning circle listening to one of the great philosophers. Everything was right there when you entered the room. I could almost taste the sweet feeling of success I had been told came with the precious memories of fighting for victory with my friends. I was shown how closely connected things in our world truly are.

These passionate nerds welcomed me with open arms. This is the first group where I felt like I truly belonged and was heard. As a child with my background being halves of two different cultures, I always felt like I was both yet neither at the same time, and as an atheist, I didn’t have connections to any religious group for belonging. With my Latin Family as we call ourselves, we worked together as one, and everyone played an equal role. It is funny in this way. I found my group through a group that celebrates a culture that wasn’t exactly the most inclusive. Yet, our Latin family is full of people from all backgrounds who are different but the same nerds tied together by that exact same ancient culture.

As I entered that room, I could feel it all. The warmth of memories of team journeys to come. The cold bus ride back from a competition with fire in our hearts. The tears of sadness. The tears of joy. The tears from feeling too much and not being afraid to show it. It was almost enough to cry in that moment. I could feel it all from their kind smiles and their support. I wanted to follow them. I wanted to lead like they do. And, so we did.