As a teacher of Classical Studies, in which I am pursuing my Ph.D., I frequently reflect upon the practical value of my discipline. In short, what does the dusty, tweed-clad miner of Greek and Latin lexica have to offer the modern student? My response is that, through their immersion in the language and culture of Greco-Roman antiquity, my students gain two important skills: first, the ability to see contemporary society as the product of a very long (3,000 years and more) and often fractious intellectual history; second, practice questioning beliefs that may otherwise have gone unchallenged through the experience of worldviews different from their own. These skills foster a respect for ideas and critical thinking that are, in my opinion, the hallmarks of a liberal education, and beneficial to all students regardless of their ultimate vocation.

The ability of the ancient world to illuminate the modern was particularly apparent during my experience as the TA for ‘Scandalous Arts in Ancient and Modern Communities’. In this course, we analyzed contemporary art-forms (literature, art, and music) considered licentious and even dangerous by their critics in tandem with similarly scandalous, though now ‘classic’ ancient works. Snoop Doggy Dog and Aristophanes, Howard Stern and Hipponax were given equal consideration. In reading these authors, I asked my students to reflect on why our society sometimes views modern works as socially disruptive and, in extreme cases, worthy of censorship whereas the ancient ‘classics’ are venerated as intellectual and aesthetic masterpieces. The outcome of this was a better knowledge of the politics of art, but also a subtler understanding of art in general.

In addition to learning about a culture that is geographically and historically removed from one’s own in translation, a second and very powerful vehicle for self-reflection is to learn a foreign language. This is due to the fact that students of a foreign language are forced to think about a culture in its own terms, that is, its words.

When teaching ‘Elementary Latin’, a potentially anaesthetic subject due to its obsession with vocabulary lists and grammatical arcana, I highlighted differences between the Roman worldview and our own at the linguistic level. Why, for example, is the Latin religious vocabulary so well-developed? What does it indicate about the spiritual life of ancient Rome? How is it different from our own? In considering these types of questions, students come to realize the degree to which their conception of the world is dictated by their language, and begin to look for alternatives to concepts that they previously thought were matter-of-fact. When teaching ‘Introduction to Latin Poetry’, I had my students read Virgil’s Aeneid at a microscopic level with the goal of developing close-reading skills. For example, in addition to straightforward translation, we focused on the effect of the sound of the words, use of meter and manipulation of the poetic line, and allusions to other works through the inclusion of telling words or phrases. Though an appreciation of the subtleties of Latin poetics may seem of no practical worth, close-reading of Latin poetry, in my view, prompts students to slow down and pay closer attention to language generally. That is, they become more critical readers and writers, more attentive to style and coherence of argument. And these skills are clearly relevant to contemporary society.

I should also say a word about the student-teacher relationship, for in the end this is the conduit through which knowledge is passed. When I have a rapport with my students, they feel respected and involved in the course; I can better determine their needs and interests; and students are more inclined to approach me when they experience difficulties. I therefore attempt to create a teacher-student relationship that is relaxed and informal yet respectful, and I approach my students as a potential mentor interested in their broader development, intellectual and otherwise.