As a Budding Classics Student, Only Frederick Douglass Can Save My Education
By Hunter Ryerson

Just before my ninth birthday, my father drove me to a Confederate graveyard deep in the American South. A statue of a gray-coated officer loomed in the afternoon light. At the time, I barely understood the profound implication behind those rows of crumbling gravestones set in the red clay ground: that these men and boys had died for a cause of oppression…