Now that she is officially certified as distinguished, the truth can be told: we had our suspicions of such distinction all along…. How could we not, after multiple volumes of excavation publications, service to her profession that included leadership positions at the American School of Classical Studies in Athens, a track-record of compelling and rigorous teaching, and the well-earned trust and respect of colleagues across the college and her discipline? Here’s to you, Leslie!

I recently had the great pleasure of taking a field trip with Professor Zatta, my Latin 101 class, and the Latin 301 class to the Art Institute of Chicago. We left early in the morning in one of Wabash’s 11-passenger vans and about three hours later, we were in the heart of Chicago. After a pit stop at Starbucks, we headed through downtown Chicago to the Art Institute. Once inside, we headed straight for the Classical Art exhibit. The main focus of our trip was to examine some ancient Greek pottery. There were many different pieces: kraters, amphorai, hydriai, and many other pots, cups and bowls. Many depicted myths, tales of heroes, and other such stories, while others represented scenes of everyday life and the rituals common to the use of the jar. Professor Zatta gave us a crash course in pottery and mythology, telling us the meaning of the different stories that were drawn on the vases. She described the difference between black-figure and red-figure painting. The painting was done by coating the pottery with a slip--a thin paste of clay mixed to water-- before baking the vases. Once in the kiln, the slip-painted areas would turn dark black, while the unpainted sections would turn the classic red of the Mediterranean clay. She also pointed out how many of the artifacts were from Athens, and in some of the vases we could identify an owl, the symbol of Athena, in the designs or paintings. After our short lecture on Classical Greek pottery, we were allowed to roam the museum to visit the exhibits and enjoy the art. One fascinating exhibit was the showcase of ancient Roman, Greek, and Egyptian coins. All were very similar, but all had their differences. Some featured the faces of goddesses and nymphs, while others represented the faces of kings, heroes of lore and creatures such as satyrs, griffons, and chimaeras.

After a light lunch, we headed toward our next destination, the Newberry Library. The Newberry is one of the world’s largest humanities research libraries with over 1.5 million books, 5 million manuscript pages, and 500,000 historic maps…and a really small parking garage. Thanks to the patented Royce Gregerson 32-point turn, we were able to escape the parking garage and view the library’s main exhibit, Artifacts of Childhood. The showcase was a collection of children’s literature ranging from 700 –year- old Latin Psalters to modern books written by children for children. The exhibit was interesting to see because throughout an eclectic selection of books it showed how, across the world, children’s literature has developed over the centuries.

From the library we walked over to John Hancock Tower to get a stunning view of the†Windy City. Finally we headed back to the van so we could make our 6:00 dinner reservations. That was when, all cozy aboard the van, we noticed that the battery had died. The van wouldn’t start. A couple of us walked a few blocks with the intention of flagging down Chicago’s finest and see if they could help. Well, half an hour and an enjoyable ride with Professor Zatta in the back of a squad car later, we were still stuck on the side of the road. The policeman who gave the Professor Zatta and us a ride back to the van said he couldn’t do anything to help us, unfortunately. Luckily, many of us on the trip knew a Wabash alumnus who was a former member of my fraternity, now living in Chicago. Adrian Mendoza, Class of ’08, came by with his brother and gave the van a jump so we could finally make it to dinner.

Dinner was a very enjoyable part of the trip. We dined at an authentic Greek restaurant, Greek Islands. Our illustrious professor ordered our meal in Greek, and minutes later, our waiter came out bearing flaming saganaki cheese. Then a procession of waiters brought the rest of the courses. Scrumptious Greek salad, mouth-watering gyro meat, fluffy pita breads, delicious dolmades, cold spreads, succulent chicken, and heaven-sent keftedakia, meatballs. After the nine of us gorged ourselves on the multiple courses, we settled down with a cup of Greek coffee and headed home. The long day of Classics immersion had come to an end.

Dr. Jeremy Rutter visited Wabash College Monday March 17 and Tuesday March 18. Dr. Rutter is a Professor of Classics and Humanities at Dartmouth College and also the creator of the groundbreaking online textbook “Prehistoric Archaeology of the Aegean.” His trip included a lunch with Classics students and a lecture on properly naming Minoan “Palaces” on Monday, and lecture in Dr. Leslie Day’s Classics 212 class on gender identity and age in frescoes from the Bronze Age society of Akrotiri. I am a student of that class and we have used Dr. Rutter’s site all semester.

At lunchtime on Monday Dr. Rutter met and conversed with the Classics faculty and students. During that time the students taught him a little bit about Wabash so that he was acquainted with the campus when he gave his lectures.

Dr. Rutter’s lecture on Monday was in Baxter 101 where he gave an in depth analysis of large Minoan complexes that have been called “palaces” since Arthur Evans first excavated one at Knossos in 1900. The palaces, located all over Crete, are large multistoried complexes characterized by a central courtyard. Archaeologists have theorized as to their function for years. He ended his speech by saying the he felt that palace is a misnomer and that the Minoan complexes should be called “Community Centers” since they were used by a large group of people rather than just one family or ruling class. Baxter 101 was full with Wabash students and faculty along with a group of students and a teacher from Depauw.

After the lecture there was a question and answer session and a reception in which those present at the lecture conversed with Dr. Rutter and each other about the topics discussed during the presentation. Dr. Rutter spent much of his time answering the questions of Classics students such as myself who have been researching the topic all semester. He is very knowledgeable on the subject and was willing the stay and talk to us long after most others had left.

The lecture the next day in Classics 212 was interesting and interactive. We went over the ways to identify age and gender in art, which include clothing, body proportions, and hair styles. Dr. Rutter showed us how much we can determine just by examining these things. For me, being able to listen to and be taught by an author of texts used in class was a new experience and an excellent opportunity. Dr. Rutter ended his visit by having dinner with the Classics faculty Tuesday night at Dr. Kubiak’s house. His visit to Wabash College was an exciting event for the Classics Department and the entire campus.

At this point, I am unsure where I will be in a few months. Will I be accepted into the graduate schools of my choice? Will I find myself landing on the path toward full-time academia? Will I be one of countless college graduates who look back and regret the major and degree they have chosen? Certainly I hope not. If that turns out to be the case, then so be it; I can adapt. I'll find something else to do. I'll teach high school or elementary school kids. I'm sure they'd be interested in Latin and Greek, right?

These questions all came crashing down upon me at the beginning of this year. While studying for my written comprehensive exams and I began to wonder what would happen if it all didn't work out the way I wanted. I began to feel powerless and hopeless; the life I had wanted seemed, for some reason unknown to me, to be slipping away or worse, seemed to be itself pointless. The despair I felt welling up was unbearable. It was hard to study.

The day the exams arrived, I was very somber, but very focused. I knew that, no matter what the future holds, I had to do my best now. I brushed up on my Cicero and thought about Callimachus and Catullus' response to him. I memorized the first seven lines of Homer's Iliad and I reviewed the timeline of authors I had on my wall in my head. And then I sat down at the computer and read the question. I remember joking to my friends that my question would probably be something like, "Latin and Greek Literature: Go." In a dawn of terrifying anxiety, I saw that I was not too far off. "No matter," I told myself. "It was time to focus."

After four hours, I had completed 12 pages of writing. I was relieved. And yet, that feeling of helplessness crept up out of the pit of my stomach once more. It said to me, "This all means nothing." But then, for the first time in weeks, I realized something that wasn't scary or petrifying. I looked at the words on the page and read through some of them. They had all come out of my head. The last four years of my hard work at Wabash College on a page. Nary a note or article citation was used. Everything was from my own mind. I smiled and breathed deeply in relief.

Every time I get discouraged about the post graduate possibilities for a Latin and Greek double major with a Classics minor, I try to recapture what I felt in that moment. No matter what happens, I've learned a lot and I can tell it to you if you ask. That fact makes me feel like my life is worth something; the degree I'm pursuing and near completing will be useful to me in some way or another, regardless of whether or not I make it in the academic field.

When Prof. Kubiak gave us the option to perform a section of Euripides' Hippolytos in lieu of a 25-page paper, we jumped on the opportunity. In the weeks preceding the performance, I began to get anxious about how the show would turn out. We carved out a section of the play to perform, assigned parts, and began preparing.

In the week prior to the performance, we started meeting and going over our material. Coates and Geggie both recite Greek better than I, and are Greek majors (whereas I am a Greek minor). If this performance was going to crash and burn, it would be from my doing. So I practiced a lot in front of my bathroom mirror and went over other recitations I had done from The Illiad and The Odyessy to get me in Greek-speaking-mode.

Two days before the play we began building our costumes based on tips we got from Prof. Day. I ended up using the most rudimentary of tools to achieve my effeminate nature: a mop head for a wig, a bedsheet for Chorus dress, and some boots (which are historically accurate!).

Minutes before our performance Geggie was still coaching me on meter, and my throat was in my chest. More people turned out than I expected, as our show was during lunch on finals week. But Detchon's International hall filled up, and it was show time. We matched our song and speech with dramatic effect so that people could figure out about what was being said (along with the translation), I butchered a couple of words, and it was done before it began. Even though people laughed at some parts, it was a very solemn part of the play. Perhaps our greatest strength was a reflection of this seriousness on stage, even if the crowd was having a good time.

I got a B in the class, and I'm happy with that. I worked hard to use my Greek skills in a way that was marginally more fun than writing a 25-page paper. I also showed the campus that day that Classics folk are an odd bunch, but resourceful enough to present ancient works of genius using nothing but a book, some janitorial supplies and old laundry.