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This article investigates the different uses of the Cambridge Latin Course Explorer Tool in the classroom, and students' perceptions of this, through a case study of a Year 8 class in an all-girls' comprehensive school. Student perceptions of this tool were a particular focus of the research, exploring its enhancement of students' enjoyment of the subject, its impact on vocabulary retention, and what they considered to be a reduced difficulty of translation. However, it also brought to light students' misgivings about the tool, including a sense of guilt in some pupils, who were of the opinion that their use of the Explorer Tool could be considered as ‘cheating'. Others, meanwhile, felt that it detracted from the ‘process' of translating to the point that they believed it actively hindered their learning.
This paper aims to investigate whether, by activities designed as a journey from present to past, students will gain an in-depth knowledge of Roman culture and civilisation, proving interest in them, and a better understanding of the contemporaneity and the community they are living in. Latin language and Roman culture are the basis of the European culture, and this subject is often perceived by students as useless, currently, because Latin is a dead language and Roman culture seems to be too far from their reality. I believe that it is necessary for students to have knowledge of the Latin language and Roman culture not only to know what was before them, but also to gain a better understanding of the world in which they live through the studying of this subject.
This paper explores the merits of learning classical languages in an informal environment. It is argued that voluntary clubs offer a variety of benefits for students and teachers and may help promote the longevity of the discipline. For teachers, clubs can be a flexible way to teach Greek or Latin to the next generation in schools that may not be willing to offer one or both languages as subjects in the formal curriculum. For students, clubs can be an opportunity to learn freely and forgivingly in a relaxed and non-pressurised environment; an informal Greek club can help develop the skills of students formally learning Latin. Language clubs can also be used to make Classics more accessible into the future, as dated ideas of Classics being exclusive to only the most privileged and bright students can be disposed of. In this paper the author shall draw on her own experience as well as the experiences of students and teachers in Australia and abroad.1
The new ITT Common Core Framework (CCF) for teachers expects trainee and early-career teachers to adapt their teaching to support all students in class (Department for Education, 2021). What used to be called ‘differentiation’ is now referred to as ‘adaptive teaching’ and full details of what it consists of, as far as the Department for Education in England is concerned, can be found on pages 19–20 of the CCF document. Much of the advice of that document is about supporting students with special educational needs and disabilities, about teachers’ need to recognise that different students have different levels of prior attainment and may have barriers to learning, and how different types of student grouping may affect learning in different ways. It dismisses as a ‘common misconception’ that students have different learning styles and warns against teachers creating ‘distinct tasks for different groups of pupils’ or ‘setting lower expectations for particular pupils’.
The chapter explores language ideologies and various solutions to which Greek, Latin, and Syriac intellectuals resorted when they needed to articulate their attitudes to the alloglottic Other, while forging their distinctly Christian and specific confessional identities. The discussion starts with the views of early Christian apologists on foreign languages and continues by inquiring into further transformations that their initial universalist views underwent in the post-Constantinian era. The chapter highlights the main points of the cultural dialogue between the “Christian universalists” and “cultural isolationists” and analyzes the formation of a distinct rhetoric of alienation of foreign language speakers in Christian discourse. The trend was most visible in the Greek milieu, where the feeling of cultural superiority over “barbarians” had been especially deep-rooted. Then, the chapter explores how representatives of different literary traditions – this especially concerns Latin writers – attempted to promote the status of their own tongues as legitimate and authoritative vehicles for Christian self-expression. The final section analyzes metalinguistic remarks in Syriac literature – remarks that bear witness to acute linguistic awareness among local writers and their ability to resist the major cultural biases of their colleagues from the Classical tradition.
Use of rhetorical figures has been an element of persuasive speech at least since Gorgias of Leontini, for whom such deliberate deviations from ordinary literal language were a defining feature of what he called the ‘psychagogic art’. But must we consider figures of speech limited to an ornamental and merely stylistic function, as some ancient and still many modern theorists suggest? Not according to contemporary cognitive rhetoric, which proposes that figures of speech can play a fundamentally argumentative role in speech by evoking a level of shared meaning between speaker and listener, and simultaneously by affording the possibility of reorganizing this common ground. This paper argues that, in Latin literature, zeugma—the ‘linking together’ of two elements (usually nouns or prepositional phrases) with a third (usually a verb) that is semantically compatible with only one of them—can and very often does operate argumentatively, and that it does so by surfacing figurative relationships that normally remain below the conscious awareness of Latin speakers and by imparting a certain structure to these relationships. What very often motivates the selection of elements within zeugma—and what makes zeugma more than simply a stylistic device—are in fact metaphorical structures that are highly conventionalized in Latin's semantic system. In tapping into symbolic associations that are deeply entrenched in the language and thought of Latin speakers, zeugma therefore provided a ready-made device for constructing arguments in context.
The chapter explores the paradoxes of the abundant sources for the west, where only a limited proportion of the population understood the dominant written language of communication, Latin; and until the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, the reams of fiscal and judicial records which survive come mostly from a fairly narrow band of senior clerics. But the clergy were not monolithic, and their impact on the actual practice of governance varied north and south of the Alps. Much depended on the extent to which principles of Roman law and the habit of living in towns persisted. Yet there is striking consistency both in the prerequisite virtues of a ruler propounded by clerical writers and in the essentials of inauguration ritual. The law which a king swore to uphold at his coronation was not made at will: he was expected to govern consensually and heed good counsel. Who could give such counsel and what constituted reasonable constraints on the king’s volition changed over time. In some realms, assemblies developed the authority to approve taxes and become law-makers in the late middle ages: the monarch’s exercise of his authority was tempered by popular demand.
The ability to translate unseen passages is a skill tested in both Latin A-level and the International Baccalaureate (IB) Diploma. Higher IB candidates are expected to translate a passage of 105–125 words of Latin poetry (in this case, Ovid's Metamorphoses) as the first of their externally marked papers. The International Baccalaureate Organization (IBO) uses unseen passages to ‘measure the [students’] ability to understand and translate texts in the original language’ (2014, p. 25). The passages are marked according to two criteria: (a) meaning; (b) vocabulary and grammar. In order to access the highest grades, the students must provide a ‘logical translation [in which] errors do not impair the meaning’ and ‘render vocabulary appropriately and grammar accurately and effectively’ (IBO, 2014, pp. 28–9).
This article illustrates the importance of teaching Roman numerals, a component of a Latin language programme, as part of a Maths curriculum in a Spanish primary school. The aim is to contextualise the topic with concrete examples, supported by ancient Roman objects such as the milestone. The author discusses the relevance of a more integrated cross-curricular lesson to teach Roman numerals so that students better understand their use and make comparisons between ancient Roman and more modern traditions and culture, and to understand Roman influences on the modern age. Lastly, the author describes a teaching experiment in a Spanish primary school using some ad hoc materials to fulfil the aim of the study. The study outlines the positive results of integrating Roman numerals within the Maths lesson and shows that the students gained a richer and more valuable learning experience as they made reference to the concrete objects.
This chapter discusses the thought of Juan Luis Vives, who was a prominent voice in sixteenth-century debates on language and learning between humanists and scholastics. The chapter shows that, like Valla, Vives presents himself as a defender of common language and common sense. The notion of “common” turns out to be ambiguous. As the chapter makes clear, in most contexts the common language is Latin, but in Vives’s attacks on what he considered the linguistic and dialectical aberrations of his scholastic opponents, common language could also mean the usage and conventions of any linguistic community. Though his critique focuses on the Latin of his opponents, the point is sometimes phrased in terms that go beyond this particular language. This critique of scholastic language is part of a wider reform of language and learning that Vives thinks is necessary. The chapter therefore examines his views on the origins of language, its functions and purposes, and the role he assigns to the topics (loci) in thinking and argumentation. It is suggested that for Vives the topics form a grid through which we structure our thought and speech.
The introduction shows the importance of the theme of the critique of language in the Renaissance and early-modern times, placing particular emphasis on its philosophical importance.
This chapter studies Lorenzo Valla’s critique of the language and thought of the scholastics. Valla contrasts classical Latin, as a natural, common language, with the so-called artificial, technical, and unnatural language of his opponents. He famously champions Quintilian’s view that one should follow common linguistic usage. Scholars, however, have disagreed about the precise interpretation of these qualifications of Latin. This chapter argues that, depending on the historical, rhetorical, and argumentative contexts, Valla uses notions such as common and natural in different ways to suit different purposes. After an examination of Valla’s notion of common linguistic usage, which is shown to refer mainly (though not always) to classical Latin, the chapter analyzes Valla’s Dialectical Disputations, which attacks metaphysical and logical concepts from Aristotelian philosophy. It is shown that Valla combines two levels of criticism: scholastic Latin is ungrammatical and it is unnatural. To make both points Valla moves between a strictly Latinate point of view, and a sociological perspective according to which use of language should follow the rules and conventions of the community. The chapter argues that this leads to a tension in Valla’s humanist project concerning Latin as a common language and the notion of the common people.
In this chapter two early critics of scholastic language are discussed: Petrarch and Leonardo Bruni. For Petrarch the revival of ancient Latin was an essential part of the moral, religious, and cultural reform of the late-medieval society in which he lived. As this chapter makes clear, this fundamentally humanist conviction also led to some tensions in Petrarch’s vision: Christian faith was difficult to combine with the pagan thought of Cicero, and even though Petrarch greatly admired the latter’s style, it was not always compatible with Petrarch’s own need for inner dialogue and meditation. Petrach’s rejection of scholastic language was further developed by Bruni in his criticisms of the medieval translation of Aristotle’s Ethics, and Bruni later developed his view in his treatise on the art of translation. The chapter analyzes the debate between Bruni and his critics, showing that both sides made valuable points about the use and abuse of philosophical language. As the debate makes clear, words such as “precise,” “exact,” and “faithful” as applied to translations are normative rather than descriptive terms, and there is no straightforward yardstick of fidelity. What is at stake is a discussion about the trade-off between popular accessibility and philosophical precision.
This chapter discusses the work of the humanist, poet, and statesman Giovanni Pontano, focusing on his ideas on language, grammar, history, and philosophy. It shows that Pontano shared Valla’s conviction that a proper discussion of philosophical questions requires a deep familiarity with Latin (and Greek). Like his humanist predecessors, Pontano held medieval scholars and translators of Aristotle responsible for the demise of classical learning and knowledge. But as this chapter shows, Pontano was much more than a critic of medieval scholasticism. Inspired by the literary and philosophical heritage of classical antiquity, Pontano began to explore the social, emotive, and active functions of language. Focusing on language as a tool for communication, persuasion, and practical deliberation, he underscored the intimate connection between language and sociability. This becomes clear from an examination of his treatise on speech, De sermone, which shows the high level of semantic precision Pontano achieved in adapting Aristotle’s virtue ethics to his own contemporary society. The chapter suggests that the underlying assumption of Pontano’s semantic and philosophical discussions is the idea that in marking the boundaries of things, words enable us to distinguish aspects of reality, including the past, as a discussion of his views of history shows.
Which language should philosophers use: technical or common language? In a book as important for intellectual historians as it is for philosophers, Lodi Nauta addresses a vital question which still has resonance today: is the discipline of philosophy assisted or disadvantaged by employing a special vocabulary? By the Middle Ages philosophy had become a highly technical discipline, with its own lexicon and methods. The Renaissance humanist critique of this specialised language has been dismissed as philosophically superficial, but the author demonstrates that it makes a crucial point: it is through the misuse of language that philosophical problems arise. He charts the influence of this critique on early modern philosophers, including Hobbes and Locke, and shows how it led to the downfall of medieval Aristotelianism and the gradual democratization of language and knowledge. His book will be essential reading for anyone interested in the transition from medieval to modern philosophy.
This article identifies a papyrus in Warsaw, P.Vars. 6, as a fragment of the large Latin–Greek glossary known as Ps.-Philoxenus. That glossary, published in volume II of G. Goetz's Corpus Glossariorum Latinorum on the basis of a ninth-century manuscript, is by far the most important of the bilingual glossaries surviving from antiquity, being derived from lost works of Roman scholarship and preserving valuable information about rare and archaic Latin words. It has long been considered a product of the sixth century a.d., but the papyrus dates to c.200, and internal evidence indicates that the glossary itself must be substantially older than that copy. The Ps.-Philoxenus glossary is therefore not a creation of Late Antiquity but of the Early Empire or perhaps even the Republic. Large bilingual glossaries in alphabetical order must have existed far earlier than has hitherto been believed.
This study originates from my curiosity to explore a different Latin teaching approach to address some students’ misconception that Latin is an unnecessarily complicated language that no one speaks anymore.
This case study was prompted by the identification, in observations and in discussion with the normal class teacher, of pupil demotivation and disaffection during Latin lessons, and the fact that this represented a considerable barrier to attainment and progress. My observation of this phenomenon coincided with Year 9 submitting their GCSE options. The combination of apparently ambiguous attitudes towards the subject and the fact that these attitudes were being brought to the fore explicitly because of the options choices drew my attention to pupil perceptions of the subject. It seemed to me that understanding the way in which pupils perceive the subject might be instructive for my own teaching practice, allowing me to better understand what pupils enjoy about the subject, what they find difficult, what enthuses them and what turns them off. Furthermore, the place of Latin within schools in general, and the particular school in which I conducted this study, is not something that should be taken for granted. It seemed to me, therefore, that this case study might provide some insight into whether Latin is a subject that young people feel is relevant and perhaps might offer some insight into what can allow Latin to have as inclusive an appeal as possible.
Scholars have long recognized that Latin love elegy’s essential erotic plot is based on the conflict between the adulescens amator and meretrix in Roman comedy, and particularly its focus on the competition between lover and beloved for sexual access, behavioral control, and the economic interests of both parties. This chapter argues that Catullus was an exemplary figure for the elegists who first showed how Roman comedy could enter sustained personal poetry, and it is argued that Catullus was, with respect to the erotic and economic conflict, a proto-elegist. This chapter explores how Catullus examines the stock scene of the excluded lover in one understudied cycle of his poems, where he limned the essential elements of Roman elegy’s appropriation of Roman comedy’s “greedy girl” motif, serving as a bridge between the two genres and a window through whom Ovid and other elegists viewed Plautus and Terence.