Just Your Average 68-Year-Old College Freshman.

A lot of my friends can’t practice English at home—particularly when their spouses don’t speak the language. Every family has a member or two who avoids literacy classes because they’re self-conscious about sounding ignorant.

Having a job doesn’t always help, low-wage workers get clustered by language—they’re not hired to say things, just the opposite.

Newcomers have to work their way through our bog of a language, some arrive faster than others. Many have told me they look forward to having conferences with their kids’ teachers—in English.

They’re genuinely grateful for your patience when you talk with them. They’ll reward you by showing you recent family videos on their smartphones. They keep them right next to their translation apps.

Just Your Average 68-Year-Old College Freshman.

College professors know things about space aliens.

Lecturers have told us the K–Pg Extinction Event was the work of space aliens, that members of Roanoke’s lost colony were abducted by swamp pods and that higher mathematics are implanted through human nasal passages by Jovians (remember that sinus flare-up?). They talk about the Kardashians, Justin Bieber and the Loch Ness monster all the time.

After all these years, I now realize higher education isn’t about getting a job at all. Money’s nice, sure, but what’s more important is that we understand the world we live in.

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.