Just Your Average 68-Year-Old College Freshman.
I pull into the parking lot and it’s relatively empty. It’s an omen.
During finals, students leave as soon as they complete their exams—the parking lots empty out early. Does it mean the kids are on top of their game, breezing through without breaking a sweat? Or are they blowing off all the questions they can’t answer? It’s hard to tell. There’s not much eye contact, not today.
Just Your Average 68-Year-Old College Freshman.
We were asked to write a paper on American Exceptionalism. It’s the idea that our country is special and morally amazing and that the Almighty loves us very much.
I first heard about it from a historian named Walt Disney.
On a Sunday evening, after the entire country had finished dinner and dried the dishes, he held a book up for us to see. It was “Davy Crockett’s Journal, written by Himself.”
The four-part Crockett saga radiated with liberty, justice and righteousness, in other words, American Exceptionalism. It didn’t mention those words of course, a nine-year-old wouldn’t have understood anyway.
“Ready to listen to reason now?” Davy asked Red Stick. The proud chief agreed. Not long after that he and his entire Creek tribe were escorted to Walt Disney’s Fantasyland where they lived happily ever after. They do three shows a day.
Just Your Average 68-Year-Old College Freshman
The quick brown fox is an endangered species.
I looked over at the other students’ lecture notes and realized they hadn’t been taught to write in cursive. A entire generation that has never packed a box with a liquor jug.
Just Your Average 68-Year-Old College Freshman
I had no idea what survey courses were until I was enrolled in one. They walk you through fundamental principles and the names of things. They are really very helpful.
When a rented textbook arrived, I flipped right through 5000 years of human history over my morning coffee. It ended in the year 1650. Was there an asteroid or something? Then I saw another book starting where the first one left off. Good!
Like most college freshmen, I know almost everything. The term “epistemology” means the study of knowledge. It isn’t easy to work epistemology in conversations but it does impress people—especially other college freshmen.
Be sure to pronounce it like this: [ē pis′tə mäl′ə jē, i-].
Just Your Average 68-Year-Old College Freshman.
Some of my student friends come from countries with the highest birthrates on earth.
You’d never guess that from watching the mating rituals at our community college. They’re either invisible or they don’t exist. The birds are locked in their aviaries, the bees are in distant colonies, flirtations are checked at security. Where are the glands?
It’s a cultural thing, of course, and I’m totally blind to it. Those of us born and raised in the mainstream American culture have our own idea of what romance and courtship should look like. Even in recent decades, our millennial children have grown up with very public displays of affections from the likes of Archie, Betty and Veronica.
Census numbers don’t lie. Newcomers to our society continue to have larger than average families. There’s a whole lot of something going on here but I’m too midcentury and Middle American to recognize it.
