How I Teach

I've taught five-year-olds and eighteen-year-olds. I've worked with students who struggle with reading and students who are academically gifted. I've taught in traditional classrooms, online settings, homeschool co-ops, and one-on-one tutoring sessions.

Here's what I know: every child can learn Latin, but not every child learns the same way or at the same pace.

Some students light up with grammar puzzles and declension charts. Others need to hear Latin in songs, see it in stories, touch it through games and activities. Some need more time to process. Some need to move faster to stay engaged. My job is to figure out what each student needs and meet them there.

I don't believe in one-size-fits-all Latin instruction. I believe in watching closely, listening carefully, and adjusting my approach until something clicks.

Latin has a reputation for being dry, difficult, and boring. Endless declensions. Conjugation charts. Tedious translation exercises.

That's not my classroom.

Yes, we learn grammar. Yes, we memorize vocabulary. Yes, we translate. But we also sing. We play games. We tell stories. We make connections to everything around us—to English words, to history, to culture, to the world students live in today.

When third-graders learn that "spectare" means "to watch," we don't just write it in our notebooks. We brainstorm every English word with "spect" in it. Spectator. Spectacle. Inspect. Respect. Suddenly they're detectives, hunting for Latin roots everywhere. They start noticing Latin on signs, in books, in conversations. They come to class excited to share what they've discovered.

When high school students translate Caesar, we don't just parse sentences. We talk about military strategy, about propaganda, about how leaders use language to shape public opinion. We connect ancient Rome to today's world. Latin becomes a lens for understanding everything else.

I want students to love Latin—not because it's easy (it's not), but because it's fascinating, because it opens doors, because it gives them power over language and ideas.

Here's what I've learned after three decades of teaching: students don't just need to know Latin. They need to understand why Latin matters. And they need to feel safe enough to struggle while they're learning it.

I create a classroom culture where mistakes aren't failures—they're data. They tell us what we need to work on. When I taught high school Latin, I offered retakes on assessments—if a student didn't do well the first time, they could retake a different version of the quiz within three days for a higher grade. As Will put it: "What's the best way to learn? By failing. You give kids the room to do that without it being a devastating blow." I welcome mistakes and questions. I celebrate progress, offer multiple chances to demonstrate mastery, and build relationships with my students, so they trust me enough to be honest when they don't understand.

I'm relentless about making connections. I connect Latin to English vocabulary, to spelling patterns, to reading comprehension. I connect it to history—not just Roman history, but American history, European history. I connect it to critical thinking skills: how to analyze a sentence, how to recognize patterns, how to solve problems systematically.

When students feel safe and see how Latin connects to everything else in their world, they're willing to try harder things. They ask deeper questions. They push themselves further than they thought they could go. That's where real growth happens.