An Experiment in Student Choice in the Latin II/III Classroom
Can A Little Textual Autonomy Create Lifelong Latin Readers?
Anyone who has attended school likely has a horrible memory of sitting in a dismal classroom with desks lined up in rows like tombstones as a teacher distributes twenty-five copies of the same yellowed, uninspiring required reading. That scene has made even the most avid consumer of books dread reading.
Teachers have long valued developing students into lifelong readers. Allowing students to choose their own reading material during class time helps turn students into frequent readers, according to research.
When our students take their final exam in their final Latin class, will that be the last Latin they ever read? A handful of students go on to major in classics, but many will never read Latin again — and that is a shame.
Last semester, I decided to follow the lead of English teachers and allow my Latin II/III students to choose what they read. I provided a list of ten options along with short descriptions about the genre, topic, author, and historical context. Options included excerpts from Pliny the Elder’s Naturalis Historia (selections from Book 8 on elephants and Book 11 on bees), Caesar’s De Bello Gallico (the first quarter of Book I), Ovid’s Metamorphoses (Daphne and Apollo), Livy’s De Urbe Condita (the section on the rape of the Sabines), Cicero’s In Catilinam, Vergil’s Aeneid (excerpts from Book I), and Catullus’ epyllion (poem 64).
Then, for the first time in my career, I let students choose what they read.
I tried to provide students a combination of structure, flexibility, and accountability. For each text, I posted notes and contextual information in Google Classroom along with weekly “author assignments” designed to help students read and understand their texts as independently as possible.
When I introduced and reviewed grammar concepts, I invited students to find and share examples from their own texts or create their own based on their texts. Occasionally, students would pair up with classmates who were reading a different author and present a few of their favorite lines. This way, everyone ended up with exposure to a much wider range of literature than they would have had we all read the same text together.
Each student also had customized list of goals and tasks for the week that they could finish at their own pace. These tasks usually included reading, composition, grammar practice, the author assignment, and a reflection or essay. At the end of each class, students would spend five to seven minutes letting me know via a composition book entry what they accomplished, what they got out of class, and what they needed to be more successful.
Students chose their own final projects, which ranged from a Latin children’s book about bees and elephants to a graphic novel based on the first book of De Bello Gallico. I allowed the lone student reading Catullus 64 to simply read for his project since he was so invested in finishing the entirety of the poem before the end of the semester. The Livy group pitched something unrelated to their author and prepared an illustrated translation of “God’s Plan” by Drake.
The obvious downside to this approach was the absurd amount of work it took to prepare for each class and to make sure that students were making adequate progress. It took a considerable amount of time to write ten assessments instead of one and to prepare enriching assignments specific to each author. The added workload was not necessarily a downside. To prepare for this new scheme, I ended up reading pieces I had not encountered in decades.
I am also not sure how well this method would have worked if I did not have daily 90-minute blocks. (In our school, students take four complete courses each semester.) In class, I split up class time between providing direct instruction, offering “office hours” (students could come ask questions individually or in small groups), and circulating to provide feedback and help.
The benefits were worth the cost. Without me going over texts with the entire class, students were more accountable for their learning and less dependent on direct instruction. Disengaged students could no longer count on their more eager classmates to do the heavy lifting and had to take much more ownership of their learning. Motivated students appreciated the flexibility to engage with the material in a way that was challenging and satisfying for them. For the Catullus 64 student, that involved learning more about ecphrases. For a Caesar student, that involved taking a deeper dive into topography and military strategy.
By the time many students reach high school, they equate education with collecting grades and credits. School has a way of transforming enjoyable activities like reading into drudgery. Nicholson Baker wrote in his New York Times essay, Fortress of Tedium, “Everything is interesting… Everything has a history and a secret stash of fascination.” Choice in the Latin classroom gives students a chance to find what fascinates them.
Dani Bostick is a Latin teacher and activist, and one of our favorite In Medias Res writers. Follow her on Twitter @danibostick.
