Not only was I able to correct Tullus on the
quinquennium Neronis, I was also able to watch
Joseph write his innovative, 1st place roll call rap. I
had finally found a community.
At nationals, the competition was in a whole
other ballpark. If I thought the questions at castra
were hard, these were unanswerable. If I thought
my teammates’ reactions times were fast, these
people from around the country had fingers made
of lightning. While I may have known the 7 kings of
Rome, they had already memorized the Latin motto
of every American state and university. I found
myself, again, quickly overwhelmed, and we did
not make semis. Yes, I was disappointed, but I was
not crushed: rather, I felt a drive to improve at
Certamen and become the best player I could be.
In the ensuing years, I’ve continued to play
Certamen. Simply by playing a lot, I have noticed
steady improvement in my knowledge.
Certamen teams from St. Xavier (left),
Marriemont (upper right), and Westlake
(bottom right)
I have met competitors throughout Cincinnati
who love the activity as much as I do. These
competitors quickly became friends: one of my
fondest memories of the JCL is going to play
indoor mini-golf with the “Latin Pueri” after Fall
Forum.
While I’m proud of the progress I’ve made in
Certamen, I know I’m still nowhere near good. It
doesn’t matter if I remember that Cacus had been
killed by Hercules for stealing the cattle of
Geryon, or that Creticus failed to clear the
Mediterranean of the pirates, leading to the Lex
Gabinia of 67 BCE, or that Cethegus was the first
Latin orator whose eloquence was truly attested
to. What I really value from all the experience are
the bonds that I’ve made. And I probably won’t
forget those immediately after convention,
either.
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