Greek, Latin, ancient literature, history, philosophy, culture and civilization. These are the principal subject areas that comprise the academic discipline we call classics. In the spring of 1970, Dr. Marion Daniels was the Classics Department at Georgia State University.
“We don’t study the classics to learn how to make a living,” she told us. “We study the classics to learn how to live.” Others can judge how well I learned, but I know that I could not have had a better teacher.
I was only a freshman, but I had already become captivated by the Greek tragedies, the beauty of the Greek language, and the awe inspiring power of mind I encountered in my teacher. The six of us who had comprised her Greek 101 class during the previous academic quarter affectionately called her Dr. D, and she referred to us as her babies. In the shade of her intellectual umbrella it was easy to feel like a child.
I hadn’t a clue what it might be, but I sensed that Dr. D. knew a secret—a very important secret about life itself, something I wanted very much to know. I believed that by taking every course she taught, declaring the classics to be my major course of study, immersing myself in the intricacies of Greek grammar and syntax, and through thoughtful and dedicated study I might learn something of the secret. I also thought it possible that insight into the nature of the secret might simply rub off on me as a consequence of daily exposure to Dr. D.
My education was not completed at Georgia State University, nor was it completed at the other universities I attended when my days at Georgia State came to an end. My education has continued every day to this very day, and I hope that tomorrow will be another day of learning. My expectations of Dr. D, however, proved to be entirely justified.
I shall forever be indebted to her for what she taught me—for leading me to a wellspring of peace and comfort from which I may fill my bucket every day, for the boundless profits yielded by that sublime secret she led me to discover.
Wisdom does not come from study and analysis, but rather by revelation. It is intuitive rather than the product of critical reason, philosophy or scholastic pursuit. A truly wise person, I learned from that remarkable woman, understands the questions while the fool dogmatically clings to his answers.
Only a happy outcome for all the world will satisfy the hope that an understanding of even a few of life’s questions suggest to us. I expect such an outcome, and I thank God for what I expectantly hold as his promise, a promise delivered to me at an unlikely time in my life, in an unlikely place by an unlikely messenger.
I thank God for the blessing Dr. D was in my life and, I am sure, in the lives of her many students over a teaching career that touched four decades of students at Georgia State University.
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I have very much enjoyed hearing about all your stories of being in Dr. D’s class and what a lifelong, profound impact she has had on your life. I’m sure she would be honored to know you have taken the time to write about her. I know she is elderly now but one word of advice – you mentioned calling her – don’t delay doing this. I’m sure she would be over-joyed to hear from one of her best and most loved students.
I reckon you took the photo of Dr. D yourself, while a freshman in her class? It and your description cause me to wish I’d been able to be her student, too. Of course, at that time I was in high school. . . However, her facial features (mile included) remind me of my Humanities course teacher whom I had just a couple years later as a senior. Blossom Schlanger was the first Jew I ever became acquainted with, and a terrific teacher! Probably she fueled the already-lit fire in me to pursue knowledge of Western civilization, classical Greece and maybe even the Greek language. I took Greek while studying for my mDiv at Brite (TCU) and love the language almost as much as I do Spanish. Of course, the fact that I got a smattering of the language (plus memorizing the alphabet) in my social fraternity, and this smattering was integral to my frat’s Ritual that had such an enlightening impact on my understanding of the Gospel and Biblical teaching, is key to why Greek (especially the Koiné version) is dear to yours truly!
I wish that the Greek courses offered in seminaries were courses that really trained students to read and translate Greek. I took two Greek classes in seminary, and they were both aimed at just studying definitions of keywords used in the scriptures. We didn’t really learn to read and translate for ourselves at all and that’s what I wanted to do. If you continued and finished your studies in classics I envy your classical education.