Going back to school after so many years has proved interesting in more ways than one.

I was sitting on the pavement in my favorite library-wall alcove yesterday, peacefully eating my lunch, when what I took to be another Older Student (ca. 40 male) walked by, carrying a sandwich packaged as though he’d gotten it from a vending machine.

He stopped, looked at me, and said “I never would have thought to eat lunch there. May I join you and eat lunch?”

I said sure, it was a great place to eat lunch, I always ate lunch there, and he sat down and introduced himself as Steve. We chit-chatted a bit, the usual small talk, and he asked me if I had a class that afternoon. I had just taken a bite out of my sandwich, so I said “Mmm-hmmm.” And of course then he asked me what class it was, and when I said “Welding,” there was this looonnnng pause.

“Oh,” he said. “Well. I, uh, think it’s great that they have… um, vocational classes. I had no idea they taught welding here.”

I gather he thought that Granny in the Alcove had signed up for Introduction to Emily Dickinson, or Art Appreciation, or some other appropriate class for grannies.

“I’m into Philosophy, myself,” he said. “And I’d love to stay and finish this sandwich here, but I just noticed I have a meeting in five minutes, so I guess I’ll have to finish the sandwich there. If you ever want to sign up for a Philosophy class, be sure to look me up!”

Ah! Division meeting (everyone seemed to have them today) and he was a teacher, not a student.

I took a Philosophy class once, as an undergrad, and it was a good thing I was taking it pass/fail and the prof really, really liked me, so he passed me. Under other circumstances I would have flunked it solid. Chances of my ever taking Philosophy again… um, well, sorry, Steve, but maybe we can do lunch again someday.

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