Old and Slow

So, true confession, I usually feel quick witted.  As in, if there is some verbal sparring to be had, I feel I can hold my own.  I mean maybe this isn’t exactly fair since I’m usually hanging out with folks who have over 30 years less life experience than I do.  It’s one of the blessings of teaching high schoolers - I get to feel young in spirit by keeping up with them. 

I’m hanging out at a science competition event this weekend with a colleague and about a dozen teenagers.  GW, who was never a student of mine but a student in my school of course, breaks out some yarn and a hook and gets to work on a project during some down time.  I casually throw out the comment “I wonder what you will do when you are a grandma since you are knitting in your teenage years.” (‘crocheting’ my colleague dispassionately corrects me).  GW doesn’t even look up and shoots back “Maybe I’ll become a movie star”.  It takes me a full 5 minutes to fully process how she has completely and elegantly reversed my attempt at humor.  So, one ouch for not recognizing knitting vs. crocheting and another for being outplayed by a 17 year old.

A few minutes later, I’m trying to erase my previous embarrassment and change the subject of conversation.  I throw out the observation that our high school has a lot of clubs for a school of our limited size.  GW casually looks up and remarks, “But if most don’t have any members and they don’t hold many meetings, does it really count?”  I start looking at the time and wondering when the damage to my self esteem will end.  

One of my 'jobs' at the competition was to judge the merit of some 'builder logs' at the make-your-own-catapult competition.  As I am struggling to kneel down with any grace on the hard gym floor to read another report and use the rubric they provided me with, I am reflecting on my knees and ankles not really loving this up and down motion when my reading glasses unceremoniously slip off of my nose onto the floor.  When did I become this guy I wonder?

Of course, I get turned around leaving the competition in Boston and belatedly decide to hook my phone up to the car GPS my way back out to the suburbs.  Somehow, this old guy can not manage the 'data on', 'location on', 'bluetooth on', 'talk to Toyota' options while driving and pulls over to get his phone (without talking to the car) to navigate him home.

Maybe I should just stick to teaching circa 1600's physics and simply remember when I used to be witty, quick, and holding my own with teenagers…