By now, we’ve all had time to take stock of our classes, professors and those seated around us.
Even the most casual observer has noticed that in at least one of his or her classes, there sits a fellow classmate who appears older than the rest. They aren’t teaching the class or giving lectures. Like you, they’re taking notes.
Their clothes don’t display the neon colors of a fraternity or sorority. Instead of wearing a shirt with “RVCA” printed however cleverly, theirs might read “Pearl Jam.”
In some of these cases, baldness might serve as a key identifier.
In any event, the ever-present “returning student” population in college makes it important to recognize the divide between the young adults and those already middle-aged.
Can this divide sustain a suitable bridge for all to learn and gain perspective? Speaking as one who remembers the ‘80s rather clearly, I have serious doubts that such a bridge has ever, or could ever exist.
Like any old man sitting on a porch in a rocking chair, I’m going to tell you what I think without even being asked. In turn, I wholeheartedly expect those of you born after 1990 to have my words of wisdom pass through from ear to ear.
At one point in history, I was young. With hair and taut skin, being 30 seemed a lifetime away. Given my unparalleled contempt for higher education, along with an extreme lack of funds, I decided to work after high school.
After years wasted in various jobs, I took to the U.S. Navy for a brief stint to gain the ability to fund my attempt at acquiring a college degree. Upon entering ASU, I was confident that my high-level of coolness would transfer seamlessly.
Nothing could have been further from the truth. Many of you looked at me as if I were a leper. Assuming that this was some “last hoorah” for myself before claiming my inevitable Social Security check, the majority of you millennials turned your backs on me, content with the notion that the best of me was left behind somewhere years ago.
As Kurt Vonnegut famously penned, “So be it.”
I remember visiting my grandmother in the nursing home when she was riddled with Alzheimer’s, and like you, old people freaked me out. What could we possibly have in common? What are they talking about? This is the music they listen to?
Over the years, I have learned that we all have a unique story to tell, some far more interesting and entertaining than others, but each with our own tale rich with life experiences many of us will never know.
While many of you hold onto the belief that no one understands, or could ever comprehend the ups and downs you’ve undoubtedly experienced, those like me have the T-shirts to prove that not only have we been there, we’ve done that too.
Just ask.
Reach the columnist at jbfortne@asu.edu or follow him at @JOMOFO40
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