I'm taking a class at the local college, and it isn't Knitting 101...although maybe it should be.
School is interesting, don't you think? About 22 other people, 16 of whom are far younger than I, all sit in a room together so we can learn the same things. How we plan to use that information is as different as we are. How quickly we grasp the information being thrown at us is also widely varied. As usual, I fall in the middle range.
It seems like there should be some great power in all those minds focused at once on the same thing. Of course, if that could be so, being a professor would be very dangerous. You might just evaporate in a puff of steam, with all that cerebral attention on you.
OK, to be quite honest, I'm not sure everyone in the room is completely focused. I was not a particularly focused, attentive person in my teens, and that trend seems to remain popular. There are also a couple of very nice people who might need to start with a more remedial course. They aren't focused, either. They're floundering. My heart goes out to them because I know that there, but for the grace of God, go I.
I'm not as old as the seniors taking personal enrichment classes. I'm not as young as the normal college crowd. I'm not wearing a track suit and orthopedic shoes, and I'm not wearing a belly shirt and Skechers. I think I am the only one on campus in a pencil skirt, blouse and stilettos.
A kid shouted at me from across the campus, and who was it? One of my youngest son's friends.
Let me repeat that. ONE OF MY YOUNGEST SON'S FRIENDS. My friend tells me I'm a hottie, but I'm still one of the Moms. I'm having an identity crisis. Or maybe I'm just embracing the many sides of ... me.
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