BREAKTHROUGH

I had a revelation yesterday, sitting in the classroom just before the start of Latin, sharing gripes about homework with the girl sitting next to me.  We talked about classes and majors, and in the course of things she worked out that Latin was not one of my degree requirements.  She was amazed.

“It doesn’t make sense,” she told me.  “You’re taking a foreign language for fun?”

And I said yes.  I told her that I had wanted to learn Latin.  I said it, and everything made sense.  Just saying out loud that I had chosen the class because I was interested, not because someone had told me to, not because I had really needed to know anything about Latin, purely because it seemed like a good idea – that was important.  I had never before defended my decision, but the act of defending it made it seem like a good idea all over again.

Class started, and I took notes – good, thorough notes, even about the little things.  I remembered how interesting I found the language and the people who spoke it many hundreds of years ago.  I forgot that I hadn’t finished the homework, and I stopped worrying about my grades.  I cared about learning, and about learning things I truly wanted to know.

There is something about choosing to learn that is infinitely gratifying.