Showing posts with label National Junior Classical League. Show all posts
Showing posts with label National Junior Classical League. Show all posts
Sunday, August 23, 2009
A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To...
Way back in the day, I was a member of the Junior Classical League in Clarksville, Tennessee. My two best friends throughout school, a pair of evil twins named Ed and Jim Long, and I competed for four years for our high school and our state. Every August around this time, we were off at the National Junior Classical League convention, from which we would emerge with lots of awards.
They won more than I did.
I was a two-trick pony. I was the school expert on classical mythology and I was the mean member of our certamen team. Certamen (the latin word for battle) is the JCL version of Quiz Bowl. I was mean and I was quick, so much so that our Latin teacher Grady Warren called me Fauces.
Jaws.
At any rate, we always had a blast. I was the one who had to be constantly watched. I was such a high-strung kid that disaster invariably followed me at conventions. My freshman year, I actually made it onto the lower level certamen team (almost unheard of) and wanted to win so badly. I sprained my ankle on the second day of the convention, and when we lost to Virgina (darn them anyway) I was so upset that I limped offstage in front of the thousands of kids attending the assembly bawling my eyes out.
Yeah, I really was that kind of kid.
At any rate, I think the JCL conventions pretty much helped me to establish my self-identity in high school. I was never as quietly brilliant as the twins, but I was so flamboyantly competitive and so viciously visible that for some reason people equated me with them. I'll never forget how, after two years of coming in second in the mythology test at nationals, in my junior year I finally won it.
Everyone was so pleased that even our villainous arch-rivals from WT Woodson in Fairfax, Virginia, stood up and applauded as I accepted.
Nuts, huh?
At any rate, this evening that same Ed Long (now a Latin teacher in our hometown)posted a video from this year's National Junior Classical League convention. I was so flabbergasted watching it--it took me straight back to high school and the energy, the excitement that overwhelmed those Latin conventions. I spent a little time remembering all the great times, all the good friends I'd made there. I even spared a moment to remember how, when we went to Niagara Falls, I crossed over to the Canadian side with a couple of the chaperones (including Laura Lindsey, now married to Ed Long and a Latin teacher back home herself) for a nice dinner and how much trouble they got into because we were late for curfew.
I didn't get into trouble. I was with the chaperones. *grin* Ah, those were the days.
In case you wanted to check the video out, here it is: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TSKa89m8R9g The Tennessee JCL won the Spirit award for big states. Once upon a time, I too sat in an auditorium and chanted "T-E-double N-E-double S-double E-TENNESSEE!" while wearing a toga and thinking about my certamen match later that day. Once upon a time, those chaperones were worried about whatever disaster I brought instead of these kids. Once upon a time, this convention was the most important thing in my young life.
The Junior Classical League--one of the great academic testing grounds in the United States. Congratulations to all of them--and especial blessings to Grady and Dr. Kaye Warren, who have taught three generations of Latin students in Clarksville, Tennessee. I dedicated The Asphodel Cycle to these amazing teachers because if it weren't for them, Asphodel would never have come to pass.
Spare a thought for your greatest teachers today. I have, and the memory has been heartwarming.
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
The Impact a Great Teacher Has
So in my last post, I was talking about dedications for the upcoming Asphodel books and I mentioned that I would dedicate the second book to some of my high school teachers. These educators taught me the rudiments of what would eventually turn into a writing career. Without them, and the attention they paid to me, I would never have gotten as far as I have. Let me explain.
When I started high school in Clarksville, Tennessee, I was really excited about a particular elective I could take: Latin. I still remember my first day in class, when my best buddies Eddie and Jimmy (twin brothers who now have gravitated to the more mature 'Ed' and 'Jim') sat at our desks, opened our textbooks and looked expectantly at the teacher--Grady Warren. He started us in immediately on conjugations and declensions; our first translation work as I recollect was about a pulchra puella and her frog. Before too long, we were competeing in Junios Classical League events. At state, we garnered quite a few first places between us.
Then came summer. During the summer Grady and his wife Kaye (Dr. Warren, who taught at Clarksville High School) held open house for their students. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, hordes of adolescents descended upon the Warren's house, which was tiny and crammed with books and pets, to study willingly during the hot, humid Tennessee days. On Wednesdays, those of us who were chosen for the certamen (Latin for battle--it's Latin quiz bowl essentially) team that would represent Tennessee at Nationals, would gather to practice in some vicious games to hone our knowledge and our skill. My nickname was fauces, which is Latin for jaws. That should tell you all you need to know about my fledgling personality. We played against the certamen greats of the past: college students who, through love for the Warrens and the language and the game, gave up their summers to serve as our teachers. The Warrens provided the chips, cookies, and cola, the study guides, their home (which had a volleyball court where we played as well) and we, unthinking and completely ignorant of the financial cost of hosting a group of ravenous kids, happily spent our summer vacations learning. We went to Nationals, won numerous chapionships for TJCL, and came back to do it all over the next year.
The other teacher, Kitty Savage, is a bit different. She taught English in the hardcore, old-fashioned way. We thought she was older than dirt and meaner than a snake, with her chain-smoking of unfiltered Camels during breaks and her abrupt, brusque way of instruction. Most all of the kids hated her--except for me. She was our 10th grade teacher, and for some reason she saw something different in me. Mrs. Savage turned out to be a wonderful (if gruff) woman. While she hammered the basics of grammar into our heads, she softened the blow with good books and writing projects. It was when she saw my writing that she took me under her wing. For the rest of my high school education, I'd go over to her house quite often with my mother. As they sat there drinking tea, Mrs. Savage would tell me the most wonderful stories with the sole purpose of expanding a young mind to the great stories in real life that could be told. For example, as a young war bride, she had worked in Oak Ridge, Tennessee on the Manhattan Project. She'd saved all the newspaper clipping in a big album, and I got a bird's eye look at how a young woman lived, worked, and dreamed in the biggest top secret city in the country. She told me a local tale of how a man named William Kelly had invented a cheap, easy process to turn pig iron into steel, and how his British employee stole the secret that eventually came to be called 'the Bessemer process.' She took a girl who spent a lot of time dreaming, and turned her into a hard core researcher who could write a term paper as an epic poem. She, too, sponsored a competition group. She tookd groups of students to state and national History Day competition every year I was in school. She came away with three state champions in Research Papers; twice it was me and both were done as epic poems. She couldn't quite rid herself of my artistic pretensions.
Mrs. Savage is dead now; she died at the age of 92. The Warrens are very much alive, still bringing the joys of the Classics to classes of eager students. One of the twins, actually, is teaching Latin in Clarksville too. Ed married Laura, who was my idol when I was a freshman and she was a senior, and they both teach Latin. When I went home for Christmas, the Warrens' students had a reunion to honor them. I saw people I hadn't seen in twenty years, including the teachers who had impacted me strongly, the older students whose footsteps I'd tried to follow, and the friends my own age who are now doctors and lawyers and teachers in their own right. It was bittersweet in a way, because it felt like we'd never left.
So when someone asks me which profession is the greatest for mankind, I instantly say teachers. I know how mine impacted me, I know how one miserable year of teaching Latin brought me to my knees as a colossal failure, and I know how twenty some odd years later, what they taught me has brought me to my professional destination. Without them, Asphodel (and Darkshifters and Terella and so forth) would not exist. And that's why book two is dedicated to them. Who else, in a book called "The Gift of Redemption" could it be?
Thanks, Grady. Thanks, Kaye. Thanks, Kitty.
It's all YOUR fault!
When I started high school in Clarksville, Tennessee, I was really excited about a particular elective I could take: Latin. I still remember my first day in class, when my best buddies Eddie and Jimmy (twin brothers who now have gravitated to the more mature 'Ed' and 'Jim') sat at our desks, opened our textbooks and looked expectantly at the teacher--Grady Warren. He started us in immediately on conjugations and declensions; our first translation work as I recollect was about a pulchra puella and her frog. Before too long, we were competeing in Junios Classical League events. At state, we garnered quite a few first places between us.
Then came summer. During the summer Grady and his wife Kaye (Dr. Warren, who taught at Clarksville High School) held open house for their students. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, hordes of adolescents descended upon the Warren's house, which was tiny and crammed with books and pets, to study willingly during the hot, humid Tennessee days. On Wednesdays, those of us who were chosen for the certamen (Latin for battle--it's Latin quiz bowl essentially) team that would represent Tennessee at Nationals, would gather to practice in some vicious games to hone our knowledge and our skill. My nickname was fauces, which is Latin for jaws. That should tell you all you need to know about my fledgling personality. We played against the certamen greats of the past: college students who, through love for the Warrens and the language and the game, gave up their summers to serve as our teachers. The Warrens provided the chips, cookies, and cola, the study guides, their home (which had a volleyball court where we played as well) and we, unthinking and completely ignorant of the financial cost of hosting a group of ravenous kids, happily spent our summer vacations learning. We went to Nationals, won numerous chapionships for TJCL, and came back to do it all over the next year.
The other teacher, Kitty Savage, is a bit different. She taught English in the hardcore, old-fashioned way. We thought she was older than dirt and meaner than a snake, with her chain-smoking of unfiltered Camels during breaks and her abrupt, brusque way of instruction. Most all of the kids hated her--except for me. She was our 10th grade teacher, and for some reason she saw something different in me. Mrs. Savage turned out to be a wonderful (if gruff) woman. While she hammered the basics of grammar into our heads, she softened the blow with good books and writing projects. It was when she saw my writing that she took me under her wing. For the rest of my high school education, I'd go over to her house quite often with my mother. As they sat there drinking tea, Mrs. Savage would tell me the most wonderful stories with the sole purpose of expanding a young mind to the great stories in real life that could be told. For example, as a young war bride, she had worked in Oak Ridge, Tennessee on the Manhattan Project. She'd saved all the newspaper clipping in a big album, and I got a bird's eye look at how a young woman lived, worked, and dreamed in the biggest top secret city in the country. She told me a local tale of how a man named William Kelly had invented a cheap, easy process to turn pig iron into steel, and how his British employee stole the secret that eventually came to be called 'the Bessemer process.' She took a girl who spent a lot of time dreaming, and turned her into a hard core researcher who could write a term paper as an epic poem. She, too, sponsored a competition group. She tookd groups of students to state and national History Day competition every year I was in school. She came away with three state champions in Research Papers; twice it was me and both were done as epic poems. She couldn't quite rid herself of my artistic pretensions.
Mrs. Savage is dead now; she died at the age of 92. The Warrens are very much alive, still bringing the joys of the Classics to classes of eager students. One of the twins, actually, is teaching Latin in Clarksville too. Ed married Laura, who was my idol when I was a freshman and she was a senior, and they both teach Latin. When I went home for Christmas, the Warrens' students had a reunion to honor them. I saw people I hadn't seen in twenty years, including the teachers who had impacted me strongly, the older students whose footsteps I'd tried to follow, and the friends my own age who are now doctors and lawyers and teachers in their own right. It was bittersweet in a way, because it felt like we'd never left.
So when someone asks me which profession is the greatest for mankind, I instantly say teachers. I know how mine impacted me, I know how one miserable year of teaching Latin brought me to my knees as a colossal failure, and I know how twenty some odd years later, what they taught me has brought me to my professional destination. Without them, Asphodel (and Darkshifters and Terella and so forth) would not exist. And that's why book two is dedicated to them. Who else, in a book called "The Gift of Redemption" could it be?
Thanks, Grady. Thanks, Kaye. Thanks, Kitty.
It's all YOUR fault!
Monday, June 04, 2007
Asphodel Update and Character Notes
All righty then! As per some questioning emails I have received, I'm going to toss out some background information. Let's get down to brass tacks here.
The Asphodel series (both of them--snort!) has a very strong basis in Greco-Roman mythology, with some additional roots in Celtic, Egyptian, Summerian, and Phoenician lore. Whew! Now that I've established my academic bona fides, let's REALLY talk about it.
Asphodel is epic fantasy, pure and simple. I use many of the fantastical archetypes (see Joseph Campbell's work for examples and I promise that's the last brainy thing I'll say) but....and you knew there was a but....I, er, change them.
*grin*
In a nutshell, here's the series premise: what would happen IF you took the prissiest race in standard fantasy (Elves), warped their patriarchal society to suit your feminist needs, gave them a Greco-Roman pantheon at war and many mythological critters to fight (as well as making up some pretty cool new ones if I do say so myself), give them a magic system that's elemental (and kills them eventually) and then force them to refight the Trojan War? Oh but wait--here's the good part! The protagonist is a female...half-breed...very smartass sort of gal who single-handedly manages to revamp the political systems of both the Elven and human kingdoms, learns to lead men to war, and manages to be a dominant personality while surrounded by alpha males?
*bigger grin*
There are lots of fights, I must admit. Hence the title of this blog. After working on this project for five years, my elf-killing is, of necessity, becoming very, very creative. Still fun though.
Tamsen Ka'antira de Asphodel, my MC, is a life's work. My biggest problem with her is that I know her so well sometimes I forget that you guys don't. Hence this note from my editor:
Tamsen was designed to be complex. She's neither a stereotypical wringing-her-hands-and-waiting-to-be-rescued sort of fantasy heroine or a Xena wannabe. She's a fairly normal person save for the extraordinary power she's inherited, and she hasn't got a clue what she should do with that power. That's the crux of her character conflict. For the most part, Asphodel is Tamsen's story, and that story is full of duality. For every point there is a counterpoint, a different path, a completely new destiny with all of the ramifications of that.
The Asphodel series (both of them--snort!) has a very strong basis in Greco-Roman mythology, with some additional roots in Celtic, Egyptian, Summerian, and Phoenician lore. Whew! Now that I've established my academic bona fides, let's REALLY talk about it.
Asphodel is epic fantasy, pure and simple. I use many of the fantastical archetypes (see Joseph Campbell's work for examples and I promise that's the last brainy thing I'll say) but....and you knew there was a but....I, er, change them.
*grin*
In a nutshell, here's the series premise: what would happen IF you took the prissiest race in standard fantasy (Elves), warped their patriarchal society to suit your feminist needs, gave them a Greco-Roman pantheon at war and many mythological critters to fight (as well as making up some pretty cool new ones if I do say so myself), give them a magic system that's elemental (and kills them eventually) and then force them to refight the Trojan War? Oh but wait--here's the good part! The protagonist is a female...half-breed...very smartass sort of gal who single-handedly manages to revamp the political systems of both the Elven and human kingdoms, learns to lead men to war, and manages to be a dominant personality while surrounded by alpha males?
*bigger grin*
There are lots of fights, I must admit. Hence the title of this blog. After working on this project for five years, my elf-killing is, of necessity, becoming very, very creative. Still fun though.
Tamsen Ka'antira de Asphodel, my MC, is a life's work. My biggest problem with her is that I know her so well sometimes I forget that you guys don't. Hence this note from my editor:
Well, duh. You don't remember the two-sentence explanation of that in Chapter Two? *grumble, grumble*This might be an area to share with the reader the limits of her
abilities...since she can make fire which isn't weather related (strictly) why
can't she make something else would run through a reader's mind.
Tamsen was designed to be complex. She's neither a stereotypical wringing-her-hands-and-waiting-to-be-rescued sort of fantasy heroine or a Xena wannabe. She's a fairly normal person save for the extraordinary power she's inherited, and she hasn't got a clue what she should do with that power. That's the crux of her character conflict. For the most part, Asphodel is Tamsen's story, and that story is full of duality. For every point there is a counterpoint, a different path, a completely new destiny with all of the ramifications of that.
She does have a sword...eventually. It's not a *magic* sword though, it's just a very pretty sword. She does have a lot of magical ability, a cross between human and Elven magic, but she can't control it and at times it seems to control her. She has an epic quest that she must follow, but that quest is more along the nature of Heracles and his labors than taking the ring to Mount Doom. The duality of her nature, determined by her two heritages, dictates the paths she must follow on her journey. She is essentially human, which infuriates the Elves around her, but as she evolves she must either accept or amend the strictures of the Elven society.
She's also a smartass who can take care of herself--except those occasions when she needs a little help.
I spent a lot of time developing the political and military situations. I will admit right here to swiping some of Caesar's maneuvers in both areas. The mythology and religion was fairly easy for me (thank you National Junior Classical League for appealing enough to my competitive nature to make me retain all of that information!) and after blending my classical knowledge with the rest of my world, the realms of Ansienne, Leselle, and Spesialle are fully developed and have histories of their own.
Go to my website Shoot The Muse! and check out the excerpt from the prologue. Let me know what you think.
More tomorrow.
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