So I went up to the university to discuss the possibility of getting a PhD on Tuesday.
And there was something I noticed. Something different about the University.
Not the building, because that’s still the same (although a ton of new buildings have been built, the clinic is still the same). The clinic rooms are largely similar. Shoot, most of the professors are the same.
The main difference? The grad students.
They’re…. They’re babies.
I swear, I’m not an old lady. Right?
My kids are still little, at seven and five. I’m young, right? (Though given my health of late, I’m like an old lady. If I start describing in detail my latest trip to Hof’s Hut, I will dye my hair blue and order you to fetch my teeth, youngster)
Only, when I look at the grad students, they’re so young. Impossibly young. At the lecture I sat in on yesterday (yes, I went back), we watched a video from October of 1993.
Dated, yes. Did I think it was old? Not really. Instead, I started singing Pearl Jam in my head.
Behind me, a girl giggled, “Wow. I was three when this came out.”
What? I was in college.
Okay, so I’ve been out of grad school for 12 years (don’t you judge me! Everyone spends seven years in college, right? Sure, they’re called lawyers, but whatever). I guess I should have anticipated the clinicians would be a little younger than me.
But not THAT young. Not “I taught your preschool class and changed your diapers” young.
Sheesh. When did I get old?