Assessing the Masses

     As I wander the halls of the college, I am compelled to do some people watching. Okay, a lot of people watching. The young students are always easy to identify. Aside from the obvious reasons, each of them has a cell phone glued either to their ear, or to their palm. The more mature transients are clutching their books, eyes shifting warily, trying not to get run over by these cell phone wielding missiles.

     Personally, I am eager to find students like myself, that is, old.  I have found them, but unfortunately none of them are in my class.

     I spotted two mature students passing through the hall remarking on a test they had taken. “It was only a test! After all, it’s not the end of the world”. Do I detect a poor grade? I can only assume.  I have found that perspectives certainly change when you are an older student. It’s liberating only having to answer to yourself for your grades.  It is also motivating because you have chosen to be there.

     One day I attended class when the temperature was approaching 90. I had been hanging out in leggings and an over sized tee shirt during the day, but was not comfortable wearing them to school. So I changed into something more “business casual”. I needn’t have worried. Most of the boys were in shorts, and a lot of the girls were in hot pants & low cut tops. I am certain no one would have noticed me on this particular day. Of course, I viewed these scantily clad girls with disapproval. Another unwelcome indicator of what I refer to as my “semi-senior” status.

Strange Encounter With a Syllabus

     Our professor introduced herself and, surprisingly, she disclosed her age. She’s not in her twenties. She’s not even in her thirties. What I find alarming about this is that I would perceive a “40 something” to be so young. When your age perception has evolved into the total opposite of what it used to be, you know that you’re, shall we say, maturing. I have come to believe that this distorted age perception is actually a gift from God, to fool us into believing that we still look so much younger than we really are.

     Moving on- Professor C distributed some paperwork, which included a “syllabus”. A what? When I was last in school, we had notebooks, pens, and “assignments”. This “syllabus” is totally foreign to me. Really. Among other things, it contained our homework assignments for the entire semester. Okay, that’s good, except that I completely misinterpreted it, and spent 4 hours a night for the first 2 weeks doing homework. All of this on one subject! (Thank God I had the wisdom to start off slowly and only take one course). So I called my youngest son, a college senior, to obtain his valued opinion. “Mom”, he said, “I am taking 4 courses this semester, and I don’t spend that much time on homework”. (Did I mention that he’s an honor student?)  I must be doing something wrong. I addressed this in my next class, and after getting explanations from my professor & 2 fellow students, I finally got it. I was doing three times as much work as was required, per week. 

The good news is that I was now 4 chapters ahead. Yippee!

First class in how many years?

     Okay. So I’m about to sit through my first class in 30 years, and I am as nervous as a fly in a spider web. I also feel somewhat self conscious because of my age, and, covertly looking around, I am aware that (thankfully) most of my classmates haven’t even noticed me.  In bounces my perky young professor, and regretfully, she looks young enough to be my daughter. (So much for my theory that the professors will be in my age group. This age thing is going from bad to worse). I peruse her features, and estimate her to be about 27. Having scanned the class,  I quickly realize that 27 is approximately the maximum age of  mostly everyone in this room, except, of course, for yours truly.  “Good evening class” Professor C  announces rather impatiently, to a group of talking, fidgeting 20 somethings. (I was sitting quietly in the first row, pen & notebook in hand).”Class”, she firmly announces,  in a near futile attempt to gain everyone's undivided attention. “I know you are all recently graduated from high school, but you are not in high school anymore”. So, either she hasn’t noticed me either, or she neglected to put her contacts in this morning. Or perhaps my best girlfriend, Miss Clairol, is working her magic after all…...I can dream, can't I?

Return to College

     After 2-1/2 years of contemplation, I have finally taken the big step- I have returned to college. Having raised my family, I now have time on my hands. I have always had it in the back of my mind to return to school, and now the time has come (while I'm still physically capable of carrying my own books).
     Registration was an awakening. I, (and students young enough to be my children), waited to see a guidance counselor. Mercifully, I landed the only one even remotely close to me in age. Unsure of whether I even remembered how to study, I signed up for just one class, Psych 101. The counselor seemed to agree that this was a good idea. I chose a Friday night class, certain that all of the younger students would be out partying on a Friday night.  That was pretty much the case, although even the older students were younger than me. Looks like only the Professors (and one Guidance Counselor) are going to be in my age group. One of my classmates was remarking to me that she hadn't taken a class in 8 years. Oh, I replied smugly, I can top that. "Do you know when I was last in college?"  1982.  OOHHH! she replied, looking decidedly sentimental....that's the year I was born..... Ouch!