Summitting Grammar Mountain

Whew, I think a bit of catch-up is in order, isn't it? (Hi Mom, sorry, I know...I'm bad). I've been sitting in my room, working on The Great Knitting Project of 2011 (see a few posts back...that one with the pictures of the sweater...yeah, that one) and staring menacingly at a pile of flashcards that has somehow managed not to menace me back. Until now. Between trying to pick up Latin and working on my Greek, a large mountain of grammar is piling up in front of me, and the only thing keeping my spirits up is that, well, I'm not too shabby with languages and I have the whole semester (techncially...hah) to summit the damn thing.

My Greek class is particularly intimidating, though somehow also extraordinarily enjoyable, largely because my professor is the closest to what seems to be the elusive professorus americanus (that's masculine nominative singular, my friends, of very fake Latin). You know the type...kind, cares about your education, willing to be available at the drop of an email for any and all manner of assistance. Well, alright, my German professors have been pretty nice but my Greek class feels a lot like the one at home; my professor is extremely sweet (and adorable!) and cares a lot about the learning experience of his students. There are only ten of us, and four aren't native English speakers, so he's very considerate of that fact. After our tutorium/ta session, though, I (and a couple of others) discovered, to my (our) horror that our German compatriots seem to be able to translate fairly accurately and speedily at the drop of a hat. For example, I stare at a sentence that's two lines long and think "I want to say this means something about a man...and there's the word for 'god'....I just wish the hoplites and good goats from Greek 102 would come back", and they say (in German, of course), "Socrates did not believe in those gods in which the people believed, and for this he was dishonored by such and such at such and such a time and hahahahaha look at my mygreekisawesome!!!". And then I die. Every time. I was commiserating with my fellow American, a lovely older woman, who agreed with me that it would be worth sticking the class out since by the end of the semester, we will have learned A WHOLE LOT, which is really, after all, the point. And did I mention I love my professor? (I'm a little mortified that I ran into him, crossing a street, just having stuffed the last bite of apple turnover breakfast into my mouth to be able to go into the bank, but he seemed amused and waved so enthusiastically I can't be too embarassed. Or can I?)

The other upside of the class is that I've made a new friend, Brazilian Fernando #2, who majors in Latin and Greek back in Sao Paolo. We exchanged phone numbers so we could get together and do HW. Is there such a thing as an English-Latin Tandem partner? Can you mix dead and extant languages like that? I'm going to find out.

On the opposite extreme of things is Latin. Sure, I have lots of flashcards to learn, but MAN do I feel good about myself in that lecture. First off, all of the other students grumble when we get assigned homework. And not even that much. I want to stand up, slam my binder down, and go 'For God's sake, aren't you people here to LEARN?! This man teaches in your NATIVE LANGUAGE. Get over it'. I sit there and listen as people find it impossible to pick out the Dative Masculine Plural ending for a verb and match it with the Dative Masculine Plural conjugation ending on the nice big chart. I mean, come on, your is a language of matching cases and endings. Hello? But I digress. My professor for this class is also exceedingly adorable. Klaus Arnim Benkendorff (great name, right?) is quickly becoming my new best friend for several reasons. 1. He speaks slowly, loudly, and repeats everything he wants us to write down three times. This means even if I can't decode what he means, at least I can write down what physically left his mouth and figure it out later. 2. He definitely likes me. I introduced myself after the second class and explained that I'm an international student (which we've been instructed umpteen times to do). We chatted about how I was doing with understanding everything and how Latin and Greek are harder and easier in different ways. Then, that wonderful old man, bless his heart and his fabulous orthopedic moon boots, asked me where I had learned German. In school, in the U.S., I told him. He looked shocked. "Did you attend a German school?" he asked? No, I explained, I'd had a bit of German in high school and then in college. He looked thoroughly impressed. Klaus Arnim, you make my mornings, even if I have to be in your class at 8:15 to achieve such an effect.

It's back to flashcards, I'm afriad, but I'm hoping to finish The Great Knitting Project of 2011 on Thursday, after my insanely busy Wednesday, and I'll definitely be posting the results of all of my work (and the reason I have gotten back into Start Trek: TNG) when it's finally complete.

Bis dann!