Last week, I wound up my oral history group for the summer. Yesterday saw my last sessions with the writing class I lead and with the two sixth-formers with whom I’ve been studying Ovid. One ended with a trip to the pub, the other with a large box of chocolates. I thanked Doug and Freya:
“I’ll have to open this when there are other people around otherwise I might end up eating the whole lot.”
And realised half way through speaking that if I am to become a proper teacher, there are some thoughts which should remain in my own head in the interests of dignity.
However, I am now free to attend a course.
The London Summer School in Classics begins today and I am very much looking forward to it. Or rather, I am looking forward to the second day. The first day is nerve-wracking as each student is graded on the basis of their application and placed in a class where they should be able to keep up with the level of Latin or Greek being studied. One is free over the first couple of days move down a class if the work is too tough. I believe some people also move up, but I can’t imagine doing that. I am hoping both to have been graded “advanced” and also to be able to keep up. A little foretaste of what my children will be feeling about their new universities in the Autumn.
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