Bene, cum Latine nescias, nolo manus meas in te maculare

I took four years of Latin in high school (so did Ben, and my Uncle George). The language, however, was secondary. So was the raging social scene. See, Latin Club at Stow-Munroe Falls High School wasn't just for vocabulary development and celebrating Saturnalia. No, our world revolved around the Ohio Convention of the Junior Classical League, a weekend devoted to all things Greco-Roman. As a delegate for Stow, I painted portraits of goddesses, decoupaged candles with Pompeiian scenes, took reading comprehension texts, served as the designated mythology buff on the Certamen team, and performed dramatic interpretations of Medea. Among other things. It was all for the team; my senior year, Stow won for the 20th consequetive year. My sister Elizabeth was there for the 10th. And now, my father brings word that Stow has done it again. They're up to 27, with nary a loss.
Although students do all the projects, the heads of the Latin program certainly deserve credit. Mr. and Mrs. McCaffrey fearlessly lead the team every year. And then there's that other head, the plastic one that doesn't have a corresponding body, named Caput. With a team mascott like that, who would dare mess with us?

(By the way, the first person who roughly translates the subject of this post wins the prize. The prize is yet to be determined.)

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