On Age

“Well, how old are you?”

Kids love that question. I’m not sure they even know why they want to know. And when you tell them your age their varied responses and stances again make one wonder what it is they really want to know .

“My mother is…”

“My grandfather was…”

“I thought you were…”

“You don’t look…” (This response is often accompanied by a look of horror, lol.)

So I have begun having some deeper talks with my students about age. One of my musings has been on respect for persons of age. On the wisdom and knowledge that comes with age. The notion of a “village elder” in so many books they read and how that compares to the value we place on youth today. It was a really interesting conversation both for my students and for me. We talked about spending time with grandparents and listening to them, learning from them. I talked about my mom and how strong she is and how much she helps me still, how much I am still learning from her.

Third graders are 8 and 9 years old but they can learn to appreciate age.

“But how old are you?”

The burning question is always there. And when I shared with them that I would be turning 60 in the summer they were happy to know that. It put a new face on 60 for them. Their grandparents and parents ages had a new place to revolve around. Their teacher is almost 60, so 60 must be…

Third graders are truly trying to figure out their world. Understanding age is part of it. Deciding what is old, what is young, and why. And then there was this scene:

I was opening the first book in “The Series of Unfortunate Events” series to read to them. We were figuring out that Lemony Snicket was the narrator. I explained that the author used this pseudonym when he wrote the books. We talked about how Lemony Snicket (the author) was a part of the books, kind of like a character. They were all ears and had so many questions and comments (and we hadn’t even actually begun the book yet!).

“When was the book made?” We looked that up and the answer was 1999.

“How old is the author?” I commented that he was probably in his 40’s.

“So he was like in his 20’s when he started writing the books?”

Just as I was about to respond one of the children piped up with;

“So he was just a little younger than you are now, Mrs. Scannell?”

As a group, the children turned to remind their supremely kind friend that she knew my age and it was not near the 20’s. We all giggled and I thanked that lovely small child for the compliment. Then they launched yet again into the banter about how old they thought I was (and obviously still think I am at times) until I finally broke in and brought them back to earth. (That is what we village elders are supposed to do.)

“Children,” I said, “getting older is ok. The only time it makes me sad is when I think about the fact that I have less time left to do things then I used to have.” This made them all agree that, yes, that is a little sad. “But,” I told them, “I only let myself think about that once in a while and then I shrug my shoulders and say, ‘Oh well, I can’t do anything about that,’ and then I just carry on.”

They all imitated the shoulder shrugs and the ‘Oh wells’ and then we all just carried on!