I was seven years old when I decided that I wanted to major in Classics. I was going through my bookshelf when I stumbled across a big colorful book called D’Aulaires Book of Greek Myths. It was in pristine condition, with a bright yellow-orange cover and a drawing of some dude flying with horses.

I probably didn’t even know where Greece was back then, but my life changed the moment I turned the page. I remember spending my free time poring over the stories and pictures within that book. I don’t know what it was—the drawings, the stories, the names, or the magic of it all—whatever it was, I was hooked. It’s as if Charybdis herself was sucking me into the Greco-Roman world.

Ever since then, I’ve spent the past twelve years teaching myself everything I can about ancient Greece, Rome, and Egypt. I’ve read the famous epics, watched documentaries, and tried to teach myself ancient Greek (emphasis on tried). I’m far from an expert—I’ve probably learned a lot of misinformation—but I found my passion.

Classics is the lens through which I understand the world. Western civilization was built upon the ancient Greeks and Romans; our country’s foundation is a Classical one.

Our government, our literature, our language—it all stems from the Greeks and Romans. I love Classics because it explains the world I live in, even if in the most minuscule way. Not only is half of the English language rooted in Greek and Latin, but half of modern literature (as in, 1700s to now) takes from the mythological and historical stories of the ancient Mediterranean. I could spend a hundred pages discussing the connections between Harry Potter and Classics, and a hundred more pages analyzing the Greek and Latin roots of English words.

I love it. I love finding these interdisciplinary connections. I love sitting in my biology class and understanding what the ectoderm (outer skin) is without a textbook. I love reading ancient Greek text and realizing that the Greek word despota (meaning “master”) is the root of “despotic.” I love knowing that the word hysteria (root word hystera, meaning “uterus”) comes from the ancient Greek idea that a woman with a “wandering” uterus was crazy. I’m sure that to other people, these sound like trivial, everyday realizations, but to me, discovering these links between our modern world and the ancient world gives me a rush of adrenaline. I know it’s pretty nerdy, but it’s what I love. Think of it as the same feeling a detective gets when she or he solves a mystery; Classics unveils the mysteries of my world, and I can’t get enough of it.

I was so excited to finally switch to a Classics major a few months ago. Not just because I love it so much, but because, in K-12 education, you’re taught chemistry, biology, English, history, French…you’re given a sneak peek into all of these worlds. Yet, we spend barely a semester in sixth grade skimming the ancient Mediterranean worlds. Just to get a glimpse of my passion, I’ve had to teach myself everything, and now I’m finally being given the tools to learn about Classics. And that’s super exciting.

I’m reading Ovid, but it’s not on my own time. I’m learning Greek, but I have a teacher. I’m learning about mythology, but it’s not just from a children’s book.

It isn’t only the academic side of Classics that I love. Classics isn’t just an academic field to me—it’s a truly enjoyable pastime. I love the magic of ancient Greek and Roman mythology and the drama of ancient Mediterranean history (see: Marc Antony and Cleopatra’s relationship). Reading Olympians’ myths is honestly fun—it’s like reading a science fiction or fantasy novel. Yes, I love delving into these stories from a scholarly perspective and analyzing their various meanings, but above all, I just love reading them. Greek and Roman mythologies are not bland academia to me; they are vivid histories with fascinating characters and magical storylines.

Ovid’s Metamorphoses, for example, is a great beach day read—the short stories within it are light, witty, and beautifully written. What I love about Classics is that it isn’t just a deep academic field with serious literature and research; it’s a rewarding and entertaining field. I find that writing my essays are fun. I enjoy the hefty assigned readings, I enjoy the translations, I enjoy researching the cultures and writing papers about them.

I was eighteen years old when I last opened D’Aulaires’ Book of Greek Myths. It’s in pretty good condition, with wear and tear, childish annotations, and yellowing pages. There’s a drawing of Helios in his chariot on the cover. And it’s changed my life. I was seven years old when I first knew I loved ancient Greece and Rome. Now, I am nineteen years old, and I know that these are the worlds I want to study for the rest of my life.

Though Classics may be my future profession, it started off as my passion. I’m going into the academic side of Classics with the same fervor that got me interested in it as an entertaining pastime.

My love for Classics started out as a fascination of the magical myths of ancient Greece and Rome, and that underlying excitement has never died. Sure, now I am doing much more critical thinking and professional research into the worlds. But at my core, I’m still that seven-year-old girl who spends her free time rereading the same fantastical myths. Only now, I’m doing it to earn my degree.

I don’t plan on going into the academic field of Classics immediately—for the first few years out of college, I want to explore the private sector of public health (my second major) or work in publishing, or some other typical 20-somethings city job. However, I have my eyes set on a Master’s in Classics one day, and perhaps even a PhD. Whether I actually become a Classics professor, that’s up for grabs, but perhaps I’ll become a high school Latin teacher, or I’ll continue in public health. My degree in Classics is mainly for my personal fulfillment, but perhaps one day it will be professional. I don’t study Classics for a job, I study it because that is what makes my days worthwhile.