On my desk sits a miniature of the Capitoline Wolf. Above that is a tag that reads “Πρόκνη,” naming the snaking, green philodendron (her predecessor Philomena sadly passed). I have a visible tattoo on the top of my foot - βομβυλιός - that is always a conversation starter. And there is the word on my diploma that reads “Classics.” Working in a non-Classics-related job, these are the only physical manifestations of my undergraduate major.
What people don’t see are the myriad ways that my Classics major have shaped my writing, my method of analysis, my career path, and even who I am as a person. In my communications I endeavor to put everything into context since I know the frustration of reading only fragments. I regularly put into practice critical language analysis, especially when dealing with statutes and regulations. I trace the history of every issue before me because history matters even for the small things.
Beyond dead languages, myths, and historical events, in college I also learned how to be a person. I could have hoped for no better examples to emulate than the professors in the Classics department. Intelligent, funny, fair with grading, and always willing to go above and beyond to help their students. I needed help - with college administrative issues, with grad school applications, with familial conflicts, and in seeking friends - and they offered me their time and energy with those problems and more.
The value of my Classics major is in the pride I have in the person I am today. I see it in the quality of my work at my job, in my interactions with my friends, and in the way that I am now in a position to help other people. It is, in fact, invaluable, and I will forever be grateful to be able to call myself a Classicist.
