Well, it's here. I am finally feeling the generation gap between my students and myself. I was 24 when I started my first teaching job--a mere six years older than my seniors. In most cases teachers are somewhere in the 22 year-old range. I was older than most, but still the gap wasn't present. Having been an RA in college, I had a way of getting along with the younger folk. In fact, I had to remind myself that these were now students and there were certain boundaries that needed to maintained. They must have felt the same level of comfort, because there were many students that spoke to me in a vernacular reserved for friends. A gentle smile and quick reminder about appropriate language got them back on track. Occasionally, I would find my clothing to be similar to another one of my students' because we were shopping at the same stores.
Now, those days are gone. At 33, my students tell me that I am right around their mother's age. They tell me that I have the mom-cut. My clothes look like "teacher" clothes. I am now the matronly woman. Their "French mom", if you will. I'm not sporting polyester, elastic waisted pants. Nor are my shoes orthopedic in nature. They still tell me that they like something that I am wearing, but I have yet to have that awkward feeling for sporting that same sweater as one of my darling, little co-eds. No, tragically, I am officially OLD. I'm not quite sure when it happened. Probably somewhere in the middle of obtaining a mortgage and having two children. I am certain that the birthing of my children has affected my need/desire to, or even the understanding of, texting people. Maybe I don't have enough people! I don't hate technology. I'm just not co-dependant of it. And the gap widens...(along with my waistline).
No comments:
Post a Comment