Update: I'm Getting Old

Yes, I know that 22 is actually quite young. I'm still not old enough to rent a car. Or be President. A little more than a year ago, my love of good whiskey was confined to lusty dorm parties, and I had a TERRIBLE  fake ID that I dared not use. So yes, I'm technically quite young.

But I'm getting old. Here's how I know.

The University of Rochester is a very different kind of school compared to Vassar, which is what I tend to use as my measure for what a school ought to be. Unfair, I know, but I've been spoiled. So when nine out of ten students in a class are blatantly texting on bedazzled iPhones in class (phones out on the table top, not even attempting to hide what they're doing under the table) and the professor just sighs and keeps teaching, I get mad. I get realllll mad.

It's not just because I have a five-year-old flip phone with a broken display and an unreliable "3". I love my phone. I'm a technophobe whose fears are generally reserved for complicated phones. So mine is just perfect for me. I'm not jealous of portable internet capability or functioning touch screen "3"s. That's not the issue.

I read a news tidbit a while ago about a Yale professor who took some heat for choosing a classroom without wi-fi/cell service for his art history survey course. AND I DECIDED HE WAS MY HERO.

I just can't stand in-class-texters. Maybe it's a respect thing. Maybe I'm a huge nerd, and I just genuinely like learning, and think everyone else should too. Or maybe I'm just getting old.