*Point of personal privilege: I am okay with being called “old.” I embrace it. I’m certainly not young. I’m not new. I’m not fresh. I am 75. I AM old. We can’t be afraid of the word “old.” We need to fight against any stigma attached to the word, but not to the word itself.
Moving right along.
Teaching classrooms full of old people through the Osher program has been both rewarding and challenging. The rewards are obvious – it’s fun to talk about interesting things with people who are both well-educated and curious. Many have had exciting jobs and have traveled extensively. They bring a lot to the classroom.
But there are challenges as well. Some of them are obvious, but there are others you might not have thought of.
Most of us don’t see as well as we used to. This means that PowerPoint slides need to have large print, colorful content, and lots of white space. I have found that I need to test my slides in the room where I’ll be teaching in order to make sure that everything is legible from the corners and the back of the room. Nothing is more frustrating than being in a class where the instructor puts up an illegible slide with the comment “I know you can’t read this but . . . .” Why is the slide up there if no one can read it? I have been guilty of this more times than I care to admit, but I work against it.
Most of us don’t hear as well as we used to either. The big auditoriums have microphones and speaker systems so the sound is less of a problem. There aren’t microphones in some of the smaller classrooms we use. This is a problem. We encourage instructors to “speak up” and enunciate clearly to help get their words across, but they don’t always do this. Frequently, it’s because of the next problem.
Most of us lose some vocal projection when we age as well. Our voices get softer or reedy, and don’t project the way they used to. The instructors often don’t realize that they have lost this function; they think that because they could control the room as a colonel or CEO or teacher when they were 50, they can still do it at 75. They can’t. And they don’t want to hear it. I have found that this is more of a problem for instructors who are men. Using a microphone is a sign of weakness, I guess.
We move more slowly than we used to. When we have to park a good distance from the classroom, we don’t get there as quickly as we think we will. When you’ve taught a lot over the years, you may think it’s a sign of disrespect if people are late to your class. In the Osher program, I think it’s more likely that they didn’t anticipate how long it would take them to walk to the classroom or how long they would have to wait for the elevator. We have found we can’t offer classes in a campus building that requires people to walk very far from the available parking lots. People may sign up but they won’t attend the class.
Latecomers are not held at the door until there’s a break in the presentation. They walk in while the lecture is in progress. Because they need to sit where they can both hear and see the presentation, they sometimes make their way to the front row (there are always seats in the front — kinda like church) or to the middle of a row. This involves lots of shuffling and “excuse me, excuse me” while they get settled.
This holds true after a break as well; Osher instructors usually program in a 10-minute break halfway through a two-hour class, but that break more often than not stretches to 15 minutes because it takes people longer to get to the bathroom and back. Then there’s more shuffling and “excuse me” while everyone gets seated again.
We don’t generally do homework. If an instructor lists a “suggested” reading, some of the class members (there are over-achievers in every bunch) will get the book and read it, but most won’t. We discourage instructors from listing a “required” reading. People either won’t sign up for the class or they’ll sign up without planning to do the reading. Instructors have to be aware of this and make sure that the bulk of the course content is explicated in the classroom, not left to a reader’s individual initiative. As they say, our get-up-and-go got up and went.
We know we don’t have a lot of time to waste. It’s fairly stark when you say it, but we know we won’t have the ability to get out and about forever. We all have friends who used to attend (or teach) Osher classes but can’t do that anymore. If a class is not worth the limited amount of time we perceive that we have, we vote with our feet. It’s not unusual for class members to leave during the break if they are not enjoying the class. It’s not unusual for people to just not show up for the last two sessions of a three-session class because they didn’t enjoy the first session. It’s one of the evaluation factors for a course. A designated “class host” makes announcements and does a head count for each class. If the numbers drop markedly, that goes into the course evaluation. Instructors can use this information to make their classes better the next time around, but some don’t do it.
We sometimes fall asleep at inconvenient times. That’s not unique to our age group, of course, but we fall prey to it more frequently than we used to. I usually teach in the mornings, so it’s less of a problem, but the afternoon is nap time for many people our age, and there is more nodding off in these afternoon classes. It can be a challenge when you look out over a classroom and see more tops of heads than eyes.
There are know-it-alls in every age group, but the know-it-alls in Osher classes sometimes actually do know it all. Sometimes they are retired university professors or high-level government employees who ran the campaigns or programs I’m talking about. I usually preface my classes with a statement along the lines of “if you really did ‘write the book’ on this topic, please add your insights to my presentation. Come talk to me in person if you think I’m wrong about something instead of subjecting me to public humiliation by correcting me during my presentation.” I have found people to be generally kind about this. They really don’t engage in “gotcha” all that much. Some of the know-it-alls, however, are just the regular front-row sitters who preface every question with a long statement illustrating how much they know. You know the type. This takes up my time. I have come to know who most of these folks are and I can usually shut them down kindly but firmly. “Fred (it’s always a man), I don’t have time for any more of your questions right now. Let’s talk more about this after class, or you can email me with your thoughts.” They generally know that they are know-it-alls and take correction well.
We no longer have patience with bad weather. Classroom attendance falls off markedly if it’s too cold, too hot, too windy, too icy, or too rainy. Or too Tuesday.
All of this being said, teaching old folks is a hoot. When people have left behind the work that gave meaning to their lives for decades, they look for meaning elsewhere. For some old folks, that means taking classes and thinking about things other than their next doctor’s appointment, tonight’s episode of Jeopardy, or what they’re going to cook for dinner. I have made some good friends through the Osher program, and they add meaning to my life.
Ha! Ha! Ha! That's a good one. And so true. Yes, I am old, admit, and accept it. I'm just happy to wake up each morning. So far.
Karen, I pretty much laughed the entire time I read this essay. It is accurate and quite funny! I would like to add this to our Osher Institute Instructor Handbook and maybe as an additional column in our next Osher Institute Instructor Newsletter. Let’s talk about it. Might I add you are a hoot, too, and among the youngest 75 year olds I know! I always thought you were barely in your 60’s! 😎