Last week's SPM feature, "Back to school: the 27-year old undergrad," claims that an older, returning (or re-entry) student doesn't care about what you did last night. Well, I care; and I am five years older that the person writing the article, thus fully ingrained in the demographic bracket of the "older-of-the-older" re-entry students, which incidentally is the only bracket I have any hopes of winning this month.
One of the first things I encountered as a returning adult was barely veiled looks of wariness -- not directed at me, but at another, even older woman in class.
Sporting a rolling backpack, one of the hallmark signs of the older student, and sitting in the front row of the class, the older student is hard to miss.
A few minutes later, I was debriefed as to the meaning of those looks -- older students generally mess up the grade curve of the class, and they tend to ask questions, a sure-fire way of messing up any hopes of getting out of class a few minutes early.
It was explained to me that older, more mature students unwittingly alter the flow and energy of class, due to their inherent need to get the highest grades in the class because they have an appreciation for learning not found in their regularly scheduled college years.
Not so.
That is a myth I am working hard to dispel with every class I take. I am very happy with a low "A," and in my world "B" is for "Balance."
I also encounter the fact that a few of my instructors are a few years younger than me, which is a problem when they require a "note" or other physical documentation for missing class. As a mom, I write the notes in my house -- and I am not going to ask my husband for permission for anything, let alone missing a class.
Yes, the phenomenon of the older student is sprinkled with stories of drunken decadence, and debauched sexual encounters. But, those are also the students who taught me valuable lessons -- like what a donkey punch is -- as well as provided valuable insight to what life would have been like had I had gone to college like my contemporaries, instead of getting married and having children.
I also have the advantage of knowing what to sweat, as well as the understanding that teachers are humans (it's true!), not just a means to an end, and can be talked to as such -- even during class.
Yes, I have to balance school, family, friends and extracurricular activities, and am fortunate enough to have an awesome "support staff" at home. But just because that is what my life looks like does not mean that the struggles of the younger undergrad sitting in class next to me are any less significant or important than mine, even if their most burning question is where the next party is, while mine is "Do we have enough milk at home?"
We are all on the same road -- we just want to frigging get out of here.
Not befriending younger students is a discredit to the hundreds of genuinely nice, supportive people you come across every day in your classes. I refuse to surround myself in a bubble of ignorance just because I don't know the difference between a "vodka-drunk" and a "tequila-drunk." We are in a learning environment. Teach me, young Jedi.
Angi Leighton is a psychology senior and can be found polishing her walker and spending her $6 social security check at Walgreen's, or at angela.leighton@asu.edu.
