The 44-Year-Old Undergraduate
I have no idea what possessed me. One day I was whining about my busy schedule and utter lack of free time. The next, I had turned in my admissions application and I was sitting in the Academic Advisement Center as they charted the lengthy and convoluted path between me and a Bachelor’s Degree.
I am now what they euphemistically refer to as a “non-traditional student”: still working full time, still raising my kids, but squeezing in one or (if I’m lucky) two classes a semester. I’ve got plenty of previous university credits, but at that rate, I’ll probably be able to use my first social security check to pay for my cap and gown.
I tried to ease back into things by taking a single religion class Spring Term and my plan was simple: lie low. I was going to sit near the back of the room and I was going to keep my mouth shut. If all went well, no one would even know I was there. I was going to slip in and out of class like a ninja.
Then, on the second day of class, the professor was telling a story about his kids and he casually asked how many other people in the class had children. Two of us raised our hands. He then asked, since he only had experience with toddlers, how many of us had children over the age of five. The other gentleman put his hand down.
From that moment on, any time the professor wanted to hear from “the voice of experience,” he called on me.
“Mr. Asmundarson, with your years of experience in such matters, what are your thoughts on this issue?”
…or…
“Since you’ve been around the block a few times, Mr. Asmundarson, what advice would you give to young people who might find themselves in a similar situation?”
…or…
“There may come a time in your life when you will be caring for an aging parent or grandparent. And one day you’ll be at the supermarket shopping for…oh, darn, I can’t think of the name of the brand right now. What is it? Oh, Mr. Asmundarson! Which incontinence aid do you use?”
So much for my classroom ninja plans. All I wanted was to blend in, but every class period felt like another verse of “One of these things in not like the other…”
In my defense, I always paused for a few seconds before responding. Partly in hopes the professor would think I hadn’t heard the question and move on. But, more importantly, I wanted to be polite and leave an opening for one of the other students just in case someone wanted to chime in with, “I’ve got a better question for you, Gramps. Why don’t you shut yer yap before your dentures fall out!?!”
The final was this past week, so I was looking forward to a few weeks without the daily reminders of my advanced age…until this afternoon when someone pointed out that, as of today, when searching Google for images that epitomize the term “middle-aged”, a photograph of me sits at #8.
I almost wet myself…
Comments
jenny
I’m so proud of you! As of today, I’m only sitting at #37 if you search under “david gest lookalikes.”
(In all truth: if, in my middle age, I looked anything as fantastic as you do I would weep great, gushing tears of joy.)
chronicler
Well, now. I had aspirations of going back and finishing my degree. I am not quite sure I want to be the grandma degree seeker after that. Wow you’re in the top 8 though!
I don’t have the advantage Jenny has on your looks, but well, just your writing skills alone should keep them in stitches. And, of course, the Nurse book collection and being associated closely with a museum, um oh… maybe the museum thing shouldn’t get too publicized either.
grettir
I tend not to bring up the Nurse Book Collection in polite company. It sometimes causes people to jump to very strange conclusions about my personal life.
emily
I agree with Jenny. I think that if I look like you do I’ll be a VERY happy camper. Of course, I mean, the girl version. And I’m still waiting for a column about your beauty secrets.
Also, really don’t be surprised if girls in your classes start hitting on you. (Remember the elisabeth and friends incident)