I'm Older Than I Look

"How old are you?"

"I'm too old to have a quarterlife crisis and too young to have a midlife crisis."

"I'm too old to audition for the cast of The Real World but I could audition for the cast of The Real Housewives." (FYI: I would never audition for either cast, because watching either show makes me want to bitch-slap almost every member of each cast. The Real World just isn't as good now as it was in the 90s.)

I turned 29 last month. This blog was a birthday present to myself.

I wasn't going to reveal how old I was at first. Ever since I started teaching college students at the age of twenty-three, I've felt self-conscious about my age. Many people want to look and be perceived as younger. I want to be perceived as older.

I've always looked young for my age. (The one exception is that I do have a few white hairs, which appeared the first semester I started teaching. Coincidence?) Probably when I get older, I'll view that as a good thing, because it means I won't have to get plastic surgery until later. Although I'm kind of afraid that if I do try to get work done on any part of my body, I might wake up during surgery and start flailing around in panic while the surgeons are still working on me.

My age has been an issue for me as a college instructor because sometimes I worry that my students don't take me as seriously as they do their older professors. Many of my students automatically assume that it's okay to address me by my first name, yet they'll typically address their older professors by their surnames. I had one student who was more than twenty years older than me; he wouldn't even address me by my first name. He'd just say, "Instructor! I have a question."

I've also had a few students who openly challenged me because of my age. I didn't reveal how old I was, but they guessed it on their own. They didn't like that I wasn't that much older than them (or in some cases, that I was a lot younger than them) and that I had authority over them in terms of their grades and what kinds of homework assignments to give them.

The first time I was humiliated in class by one of these students, I nearly broke down. I wanted to cry but I didn't. But everyone in the class could tell that I was close to tears. After class ended, I went back to the adjuncts' office and burst into tears because I was so overwhelmed. I felt like I'd lost control over my class; even if I hadn't revealed my age to them, I felt like that student had proved that I was too young for this job. I was consoled by one of the veteran instructors, who had been teaching college students and high school students for decades. He encouraged me to not let it get to me and to keep teaching.

Five years and more than thirty classes later, I'm definitely a lot tougher than I was when I first started teaching. And I feel older, too, because now that I've been on the other side of the desk as a teacher rather than as a student, my whole perspective of school has changed. Now I have to be the "adult" and not let anyone try to undermine my authority. I have to stay in control and enforce the rules without being a dictator. And in many ways, I have learned to do that successfully. But I still have a lot to learn. That's one of the things I like about teaching; it's an ongoing learning process.

I've also felt self-conscious about my age because when I was an undergrad, I thought I'd be done with school by the age of 29. I thought I'd have a full-time job and that I'd be financially secure.

Other people my age are married or are in relationships, raising families, making thousands of dollars more than I am, and buying houses and cars. I've spent most of my twenties pursuing a master's degree and now a Ph.D., teaching college students and high school students, and working a bunch of part-time jobs to support myself because I learned the hard way that untenured instructors and teaching assistants are woefully underpaid. I pay rent on an apartment and take the train and bus to work.

But in many ways I don't regret the professional choices that I've made. I never would have had all the experiences I've had if I hadn't decided to become a teacher. I never would have met all of the good students who inspire me to keep teaching, and I never would have had a chance to learn from the challenging students on what I can do better or differently. I never would have met all the professors who inspired me to follow their examples and become a scholar and a mentor.

Besides, I think that at least a third of the people currently following/reading this blog already know how old I am. If you look at my sidebar on this blog, you'll see that I'm a member of 20 Something Bloggers, which is this awesome online community of bloggers in their twenties. And even though I still won't reveal my age to my students, I might as well reveal it here. Besides, even if you aren't a member of 20sb, you might have guessed how old I am by my references to Britney Spears (who rocks, by the way, and nothing anyone says will convince me otherwise).

By the way, I created a separate e-mail account for this blog, so even though I definitely love getting comments from people, you can also e-mail me at neuroticworkaholic@gmail.com. Although if anyone e-mails me anything dirty/offensive/scary, I will create a separate page on this blog for those e-mails and title it "People Who Freak Me Out."