Today I discovered that, for the first time, there are students enrolled in my class who were born after I graduated from college.

In my class. Not just at my school, like little freshmen who won’t be my problem for another two years, or like toddlers whose moms are checking on their older siblings. I mean they are sitting in desks in my classroom and I’m supposed to teach them.

This is an intolerable reminder of my advancing age. I’ll have to do something youthful and irresponsible to compensate, like not pay my bills until just before they’re due, or go five weeks without a haircut instead of four.