I have seen some of my charges go on to run large companies. One is a United States senator, one a popular and well-respected writer. All of my most successful students have been white. But that doesn’t trouble me a great deal. I know that I have opened their minds somewhat; that they see that there are some Negroes who value the things a Chelsea man values: order, decorum, rectitude. I have given my life over to passing on these ideals at Chelsea. I would gladly do it again.

The other thing I love about teaching here is the constant promise of renewal. Every fall, one gets the chance to begin again. Perhaps that is why the school is at its best in the fall. The grass has not yet lost its startling greenness, but the leaves are aflame with color, brilliant orange and deep red. The young men who are our students greet each other with loud shouts of pleasure. The faculty is full of resolve. It is a lovely time. It is unfortunate that it is so brief.

The moments before the first class of the year hum with a particular tension, one I have never entirely gotten used to. I start by standing quietly in front of the class, my back to them, writing out my name and some simple cases and conjugations. Behind me, the freshmen enter, some boisterously, as if to show that they are not intimidated, some so shyly that I hear only the clatter of their shoes and the shifting of desks and chairs as they find seats. I do not turn around until they begin to quiet and look at me, expectant and nervous. Even then, I let the silence linger a fraction of a minute longer. I wait until every eye is upon me.

“My name is Mr. Washington, and this is Latin One,” I say, my voice pitched slightly louder to carry to the back of the room. “Latin is considered by many to be a dead language. In this room, it is not. While here, we can revel in the clarity of thought that produced it and the glory of the civilization that once used it. Much of the world we know rests on the foundation created by the Romans. It is a language to be treasured and respected. I assume that your presence here means that you feel as I do.”

Those students who were pretending not to be intimidated before are generally stunned into silence by this speech. I know perfectly well that most of them are there because their fathers insisted or because fewer years of Latin are necessary to fulfill the language requirement than of French or Spanish. But I want them to understand the seriousness with which I regard what they are about to undertake. I know they have never seen anyone like me before.