The word “testudo” comes from the Latin word for tortoise. To the ancient Romans, “testudo” referred to a military formation in which a group of soldiers formed a shelter by locking their shields over their heads when under siege, much like the way a turtle takes cover under its shell in times of trouble.
When the invading soldiers arrived at a walled city, they were frequently assaulted by people up on the parapet who shot arrows, threw rocks, poured boiling oil and rained all sorts of unseemly objects down upon their heads. To protect themselves, the advancing soldiers would use a testudo formation, forming a single platform. We all need protection. However, we are not soldiers for fortune and earthly dominion.
We are soldiers for truth. Our testudo is education. It is what protects us from the slings and arrows of life. It is why the mortarboard, the pre-eminent symbol of higher education, is shaped as a testudo to sit atop our heads.
The university selected the diamondback terrapin as our mascot because the shell of the turtle is nature’s most perfect testudo; the shell of Testudo is Testudo’s testudo.
Rubbing Testudo’s nose before an exam does nothing, as those who have tried have found out. However, rubbing Testudo’s testudo does bear witness that knowledge is our true protection, but what brings good fortune studying. Get hip on studying.
In the early morning hours of Oct. 17, 2005, the curious students of this university gathered at the site of the memorial to the legendary Sara Bellum. They were unable to suppress little excited cries and jostlings as they waited. Sara Bellum was rumored to be on her way for her annual inspection of the campus. This beloved student-leader and adviser, author of In My Fancy and Other Essays, customarily issued an augury at the beginning of her journey having to do with integrity in the curriculum and other matters of undergraduate education.
She appeared at exactly 6:01 a.m., an impressive figure, well over five feet tall. “I’d rather be studying,” she muttered, cuffing a campus senator who scurried by.
She paused dramatically, then plunged one hand into her backpack. After some time, she drew out a copy of Promises to Keep: The College Park Plan for Undergraduate Education. As she carefully consulted its recommendations, a look of simultaneous worry and determination recomposed her flaccid features.
“I am simultaneously worried and determined,” she said. “Our ranks have been thinned by the beer joints on the one hand and the self-indulgence of careerists on the other. American universities are choked with these unfortunates, who are either cutting the fool or groveling for careers. Learning is at a new low.”
“What can we do?” a despairing voice cried. “Say something!”
“Students do not live by facade alone,” Sara said combatively. “Learn something. Study.”
And so saying, she signaled to a disheveled sociology professor loitering nearby in the shrubbery, who proceeded among the throng, distributing pamphlets about the advantages of studying and crying, “Down with facades; down with the gruntled!”
“Who are the gruntled?” a voice queried.
“Obviously,” said Sara, “the gruntled are the enemy, those who are not disgruntled, the pseudo-students who party but never study.”
“Study! Get hip on studying!” cried a student, as the crowd bore her aloft in the true tradition of those who have found new hope.
John Pease is an associate professor of sociology. He can be reached at pease@umd.edu
