I am used to being one of the youngest people in a crowd. When I did my Masters in 1999 there were only three of us under the age of 30. At work, at uni, even in my Mothers group, I have always been one of the youngest people. But now as I prepare to embark on a new postgrad course at University next year, I have discovered that the first unit I have enrolled in is actually an undergraduate course. Which means that I, at the ripe old age of 33, will be studying with teenagers who could potentially be about half my age.
These kids will have been born in the 1990s. They will have no concept of a time without mobile phones, a time before laptops, or a time when there was only three free-to-air TV stations. Johnny Young Talent Time? Wombat? Hey Hey it's Saturday, when it was actually shown on a Saturday. Pre DVDs, pre 9/11, pre internet. This is a writing course: will they all be writing in SMS-speak? Will I understand them? It has been more than a decade since I have attended a university campus as a student. Has much changed? What do I wear?
Oh my god, I am going to be the dorky mature aged student in the corner that no one talks to. Worse than that, I will be the dorky mature aged student with baby vomit or dried cruskit on my cardigan. While the rest of the group head to the pub after class, I will be heading to daycare to collect my children.
Coincidentally, the year I start back at uni my not-yet four year old will be starting Kindy for the very first time. We will both have our new backpacks and pencil cases full of exciting new stationery. We will both be trying to make new friends. Except she will be one of the youngest, and I may be one of the eldest.
But I am guessing that is something I will probably need to get used to.