Monday, 13 April 2020

Forties (part 4)


I wish I could remember anything about my Latin teacher. Not because I’m interested in him as a person, but because I’m interested in how he managed to make this dead, irrelevant language important to an eight-year-old.  

I think it wasn’t actually about Latin as such.  More likely, he inculcated an interest in ordered structures, which grew and has persisted ever since.  The notion that a chunk of language could be broken down into verbs, nouns and such, then rebuilt into phrases, clauses, sentences and such – all according to a set of rules (or at least conventions) that could be codified and obeyed – that must have been deeply comforting to that insecure ungrounded infant I was.  

Of course, that was all drummed out of me when I moved on to the grammar school. (We can’t have them teaching grammar, can we?)

1 comment:

  1. I didn't start to learn Latin until I was 11, but I loved it too. I think it was the logic, the order; just as you say. I only ever obeyed rules that made sense, but Latin did. Until I moved on to A level, but that's another story and a much harder one to follow.

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