Original article posted by -soma-:

I feel old.
I didn’t feel old when I woke up this morning, after all, it only takes me fifteen minutes to get from my bed to British Lit every morning; it’s my youthful agility, thank you.

And I certainly don’t feel old in British Lit. I supply a substantial number of the useful comments in that class.

An hour in a room full of energetic, bright-eyed high school kids makes me feel old.

I benevolently volunteered to help out with the high school German competitions today. Woo wee… (Translation: I volunteered to stand in a room for an hour and pass out tokens to the first kid to yell out the correct answer to questions like “which of the following is not a traditional German food?” Hmmm… was I stuck in the room with all the kids who failed their language tests?)

It’s only been four years since I was in high school. I’m not supposed to feel old until I’m at least thirty (Sorry Hastings). I’m not supposed to notice signs of physical decay yet. Hell, I stay out of the sun. I don’t do that silly fake tanning stuff. Damn it.

Anway, so after my hour with the high school students, I glance in the mirror and realize that I am aging. (Yes Ryan, I Know. Everyone is Always aging). But I’m not supposed to realize it for another decade at least.

Well, I’m out of time. The writing center is now closed and I’m going home.

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