I was called one morning to substitute for a Latin teacher. I never studied Latin, so I was grateful she left me thorough lesson plans for the day.
In my old teacher’s bag of tricks there is a Latin phrase. I figured I would challenge the kids to translate it, if time allowed.
The sixth-grade class had to take a quiz. The kids labored over their quizzes, glumly walked them to my desk and returned stoically to theirs.
When all quizzes had been turned in, there were about 10 minutes remaining in the class. I told them I had a bonus challenge for them. They had nothing to lose and everything to gain by taking it on.
They eyed me warily.
I said, “Translate this,” and wrote, “Sic friatur crustulum” on the whiteboard.
“It’s a common phrase we use in our everyday language,” I explained, then warned them they mustn't use their computers or any Google Translate type of digital shortcut. They would be allowed to use their notes and any books in the classroom.
Kids leapt to their feet and formed groups. The general consensus evolved that this phrase had something to do with bread and breaking.
“Breaking bread?” they asked.
“That’s close,” I replied.
The class period ended, and it was time for them to go to lunch. They begged me to give them the answer, but I refused. I told them maybe they would get a hint in the cafeteria.
I had sixth-grade lunch duty that day, so I patrolled the room where they were eating. Not far into their lunch period, a group of excited sixth-grade Latin students rushed me.
“That’s the way the cookie crumbles!” they shouted.
Seventh graders: they, too, broke happily into small groups. One group soon approached me to whisper what they thought was the solution.
“Well done,” I whispered back.
Another student then loudly announced her solution, much to the dismay of kids still working. It turned out she’d cheated by logging onto her computer.
This was pointed out with righteous indignation by a classmate. The challenge had been compromised.
Eighth graders listened politely to my challenge, but were simply too busy to engage in such sport. Kids who opt for a third year of Latin tend to be dedicated scholars. They had lengthy passages to translate. They soberly applied themselves to this task.
Something in me wishes that ebullient, joyful learning shown by those sixth graders could somehow be encouraged and nurtured as kids grow older.
Toby Goodrich is a retired teacher who taught middle school English and science. He lives in Canton, Connecticut.
