The grey light of the wintery day shone through the frosted window, casting long shadows along the floor of the classroom. Behind his tall desk, Duncan’s professor sat, grading papers like he always did. Duncan looked at his teacher, marveling at the constant grim line of his teacher's mouth and seemingly ancient spectacles. Duncan scratched aimlessly on his paper. He did not like sitting in Professor Mackenzie’s class room by himself during seventh period, but it was better than the alternative: trying to complete his homework in the study hall room, a room filled with chattering, noisy freshmen. And he had to admit, Professor Mackenzie was a good teacher, and often times answered his questions. And today he had one.

“Sir?” asked Duncan, raising his hand, while pushing his glasses up on his nose.

“Yes,Duncan?” Professor Mackenzie looked down at him through his spectacles, something that always seemed to unnerve Duncan.

“Sir, is Latin a dead language?” Duncan looked at his teacher with expectation, just waiting for an answer.
“Yes, Duncan, it is.” Professor Mackenzie scratched on another paper. Most likely another red x. He was really good at giving those out to unfortunate students. Duncan tilted his head to the side, perplexed at that answer.
“But why, sir, if it is still spoken in the church?” Duncan was not Catholic, but it sounded like a sound argument, so he shrugged his shoulders. Professor Mackenzie took off his spectacles and laid them on his desk, the thing he did whenever Duncan started talking.

“In the Catholic church, yes, it is spoken, but Latin is still a dead language because the Ancient Romans spoke it, but where are the ancient Romans now?” Duncan tilted his head to the side and chewed on the end of his pencil, trying to figure out what his teacher was going to argue. He always liked to stay a few steps ahead of Professor Mackenzie, and this time was no exception.
  “Well, sir, the ancient Romans are dead.”

“And what language did the ancient Romans speak?” Duncan watched as his professor heaved a sigh, and could guess what his teacher was thinking. Here we go again.

“Latin.”

“So, if the people who speak Latin are dead, what does that make the language?” Duncan fiddled with the notes in front of him, not wanting to answer for fear of losing the argument before it had even begun.

“Well, dead, sir, but if that is so, then why is Latin still used in the Roman Catholic Church?” Duncan leaned forward in his desk. He would not let this topic go. He could not let it go.

“Because they are following formalities and customs from hundreds, thousands of years ago.” Professor Mackenzie looked on the verge of either falling asleep, or wanting to ring his neck. Winter days do that to a man, thought Duncan. But who cares? Isn’t this more important? 

“But then why are most English words derived from Latin?” Duncan scrunched his nose, trying to keep his glasses from falling down his face. They had a knack for doing that. He did not like the smile that was creeping across Professor Mackenzie’s face.
“There, you said it Duncan. Derivation. English words are derived from Latin, as I am sure your classics teacher has told you, but no one speaks fluent Latin any longer. Therefore it is a dead language” Professor Mackenzie sat back in his chair, his arms crossed, looking like a triumphant gladiator. Duncan scrambled to find a comeback.
“But we still use terms like et cetera, habeas corpus, Carpe Diem, and many other things.” Duncan would not let this topic rest. Not when he had a chance of winning this argument. And if he did win, boy would his classics teacher be proud of him.

“Yes,” said Professor Mackenzie, smiling no longer. He looked like a thunder storm, ready to attack Duncan. Out of instinct, Duncan sat back in his chair. “We use phrases, but we do not speak Latin like we speak French, Spanish, German, English, or any other language. This proves that Latin is a dead language.” Duncan scowled. No, it did not prove Latin to be a dead language, and he was going to prove it.

“But sir-”

“No Duncan, let us take this from a different angle. Go to Rome. When in Rome do you speak Italian or Latin?” Professor Mackenzie shook his head, as though he was ashamed at Duncan’s questioning. Duncan sat up straighter, a perfect answer perched on the edge of his lips.

“If I were in Rome sir, I would do as the Romans do and speak Italian.” Duncan twirled his pencil in his hands, staring at his teacher, willing him to come up with a rebuttal.
“Right. Now-”
“Except in the Vatican.” Duncan stated it with such force, Professor Mackenzie jerked back, and Duncan flashed a triumphant smile at his textbooks.
"Duncan, just because Latin is spoken by a select few people in a one-hundred acre area does not mean that Latin is a living language. Now, take French, for example. If you go to France, do you speak French or English?" Duncan could feel the challenge. He could imagine his teacher, if he could, would be shooting lasers from his eyes. If there was ever a teacher who could be a superhero, it would probably be Professor Mackenzie, thought Duncan.

"If I were in France, I would speak French, assuming I knew how to speak French. But based on what you just said, earlier about, 'If I were in Rome,’ then would that make English a dead language?" Duncan could hear the professor's huff, and his scowl.

"Duncan, stop being petulant. It is simply a metaphor. English is not a dead language, but Latin is, and that is the end of this discussion." Professor Mackenzie reached for his coat, and Duncan raised his eyebrows, and pushed his glasses up on his nose again. Him, petulant? And this was the end of this discussion? He would not let this happen. There was still ten minutes left in seventh period.

"But sir, if no one uses Latin, then why are medical and scientific terms in Latin, and why do we learn Latin in school if it is a dead language?" Duncan stood up, almost eye to eye with his teacher. His pencil fell from his hand and rolling off the desk, clattered to the floor.

"Because, Duncan, Latin is the basis of classical education. Surely you learned that in your AP European History class. But Latin is just as dead as Plutarch, Caesar, and Cicero." The stared at each other, challenge and pride burning in their eyes.

"Sir, Plutarch, Cicero, and Caesar are dead, but where you not just the other day lecturing that their works were immortal? And if their writing is immortal, then wouldn't the language they wrote in be immortal as well? That proves that Latin is not a dead language." Duncan flashed a triumphant smile, and pushed his glasses further up on his nose. Could they not just stay where he wanted them to? Professor Mackenzie gave him a scathing glance.

"Duncan, your impertinence has gone far enough. This is the end of this conversation, and I do not want you to bring this up with me again."

"Yes, sir." Duncan tried to sound morose, but  he smiled to himself. Yes! He'd won, this time. As Duncan set to gathering his things, he looked up and saw that Professor Mackenzie had re-seated himself at his desk, his head in his hands. For a moment, Duncan felt sorry. I may have won the argument, but at what expense?

Ring! Ring!

The bell signaling the end of the day gave off a shrill whistle and Duncan hurried out the door. As he left, he murmured, "Latina non mortua est." Latin is not dead. "Videbimus," came a quiet answer and Duncan looked back.  Professor Mackenzie was smiling at him. "Videbimus, We shall see, sir," said Duncan, raising his hand almost in a salute to Professor Mackenzie. As Duncan left school that day, he could not wait until seventh period tomorrow.