On the door of an office on the third floor of the Olin Center, a nametag reads, "Gloria Ascher: German and Judaic Studies." Underneath the official sign, a handwritten piece of paper has been added to say, "Scandinavian" - a remarkably accurate representation of the teaching career of a woman who thrives off her students' enthusiasm for an array of esoteric disciplines.
Raised in the Bronx, New York, the multi-disciplined associate professor grew up listening to her Turkish-born parents speak Ladino, which Ascher described as "the language of the Jews who were expelled from Spain in 1492 and their descendants."
"It's my heritage," Ascher said.
Amongst piles of Judaic Studies brochures, a book of Hans Christian Anderson fairy tales, animal rights stickers, and student-made Sephardic cooking posters sits one of the only textbooks written for the Ladino language, translated into English by Ascher herself.
Ascher extended her heritage and knowledge of the rare language by composing poetry and music in her native tongue and eventually establishing a Ladino program at Tufts in 2000. "I started with 12 students and now I have close to 20," she said.
"Of course with [languages like] Arabic, [the popularity is] more understandable ... when Russia was still the Soviet Union, it was 'Russian, Russian, Russian,'" Ascher said. "It's a terrible thing to say, but when there's trouble in a part of the world, people want to learn the language."
But according to Ascher, Ladino's growth has developed in a manner unlike that of many expanding languages, since it is not bound to any one geographical area.
"That's why I'm so proud of Ladino, because there is no country. We don't have a country," she said. "We're all over the place ... it's wonderful that a language that is not a language of a place where there's trouble, it's not practical, but it has so much attraction for people. People love it," she said.
Ascher also explained the cross-cultural interest in what she called an "impractical" language.
"People become part of it," she said. "It's not just something they take; it affects them."
Ascher recalled two of her students - one Haitian and the other Irish-Catholic - who worked together to teach the language to a fifth grade public school class after completing three semesters of Ladino.
"Neither of them is of that heritage or even Jewish, but they became representatives," she said. "And that, to me, is very important."
Ascher attributed her ability to teach uncommon curriculum to the interest and passion of her students.
"I'm happy that I'm able to do it and that the students were receptive," Ascher said. "The first class, I had 12 people! I couldn't believe it - a completely impractical language!"
Ascher also believes her students will continue the Ladino speaking tradition, adding to the relatively small number of current speakers in the world, now estimated to be between 110,000 and 200,000. She guesses there may be more speakers than accounted for.
"You can't tell, is my own opinion," she said. "How did they find that? Are you going to go to each person and ask, 'Do you speak Ladino?' You don't know."
"And they're not counting my students who speak," she added with a laugh.
Though she's glad to be teaching such an uncommon language, Ascher said it can be difficult at times.
"It's challenging because there's no good dictionary," she said. "But I always say we're pioneers. You know, and pioneers have it hard! They have to really work for it."
Ladino isn't the only subject Ascher teaches where success relies on the willingness and interest of a small group of students.
Taught every spring, Ascher's Scandinavian literature course marks Tufts' only class specializing in Scandinavian studies, in spite of the university's heavy reputation for all things global.
"Selectively global, I hate to say," Ascher said. "It's very hard to introduce things like that because they're afraid there won't be enough interest. Even Portuguese isn't taught anymore."
"Now, Africa's in," she continued, noting a general North American disinterest in the Nordic region. "Scandinavia's not in. They think, 'Oh yeah, those peaceful ones with the Nobel Peace Prizes.' People don't know much about it."
Despite Scandinavia's tendency to remain under the global radar, Ascher still finds a magical connection to the country. Reminiscing about an Old Norse class she took during graduate school at Yale, Ascher remembers the way her professor explained Nordic tradition.
"As soon as he spoke, he conjured up this whole world," she said. "He was a fantastic teacher and I was so glad I was in that course. He's the one who opened up this whole world to me."
Her professor's ability to bring Scandinavia to life led to Ascher's own desire to teach the region's literature.
"I decided to teach the course here because people didn't know about the literature, even in my graduate German courses," she said. "People so knowledgeable otherwise, and they don't know this great tradition. All my courses have been like that."
"I love Scandinavian literature," she added, tugging on a silver winged-dragon necklace she bought while traveling in Reykjavik, Iceland. "I'm glad that I'm able to teach it. I wish there were more Scandinavian courses on campus."
