Adventures in Adulthood

Wednesday, Jun 10, 2009

Teenagers with Scapels

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For much of my life, people in the medical world had one attribute in common: they all looked ancient to my young eyes.

My first dentist had wrinkled fingers the size of hot dogs, but he could still fit seven of those blotchy digits in my mouth as he drilled my first fillings. Our school nurse had quite a few bristly gray chin hairs and was rumored to be well over 100 years of age. And the doctor who delivered me and saw to my health needs until I was eighteen had bags under his eyes so big he could have kept a stethoscope in one and reflex hammer in the other.

Things began to change when I made my occasional visits to the health services clinic in college. One doctor who examined my sprained knee seemed like a pretty cool, almost-middle-aged guy, a lot like the hip young professors who hung out at the student center or shot baskets in the gym. The nurse who gave me a flu shot was barely thirty and cute enough to make me blush as she rubbed an alcohol-soaked cotton ball on my shoulder before stabbing me with the needle.

As I’ve grown older, the people in the medical world seem to have gotten progressively younger. Now that I’m hovering around the half-century mark, I’ve reached some sort of median patient-professional age. About half of the people in white coats look to be my age or older, but the other half look like they’re about to shave for the first time or still have a provisional driver’s license.

The most extreme example was the urologist who performed my vasectomy a decade ago. When I asked how many of these operations he had done, he replied, “A bunch, you know, like, several.” From the rough way he handled my still-sore goodies during the follow-up exam a week later, I could tell he’d never been on the receiving end of the procedure himself. And the nurse assisting him looked too young to be a legal participant.

These situations keep repeating. When my wife and I took our twenty-year-old son to the emergency room with a broken wrist, his doctor looked like he could be on our son’s intramural soccer team. Kid Doctor decided to consult with his supervisor, so I expected a craggy old guy who smelled like mouthwash and mothballs. But the supervisor looked young enough to be the first guy’s slightly older brother, who just stepped out of a Gap ad.

The young cardiologist who oversaw my first treadmill stress test kept calling me “Sir.” The doctor who did my knee surgery last summer mentioned that we had some mutual friends, so I looked him up on the Internet and discovered he graduated from high school a year after I did. At a recent physical exam, the phlebotomist drew my blood while simultaneously texting her friends about that night’s Hannah Montana concert. (Okay, that last one may be a slight exaggeration.)

These youngsters have been wonderful practitioners (with the notable exception of the ham-fisted urologist, who I like to call “Dr. Knuckles”). I have great confidence in them even as I chuckle and wonder what they’re planning to wear to the prom. I never make any comments about their youth because I was once in a similar position. At age twenty-three, I taught my first college classes and was barely older than the students who rolled their eyes when I walked into the room wearing an ill-fitting suit to try to look the part.

What worries me now is that these youthful technicians, nurses, and doctors provide an unwelcome window into the future. How young will the doctors look when I get my bad knee replaced in a decade or so? What about the dentist who pulls the last of my teeth and fits me for dentures? Will the teenager on the nursing home staff call me “grandpa” as she feeds me my strained peas and applesauce?

Of course, those visions are better than the alternative.

A former student stopped by my office the other day to visit. She’s a smart, confident woman, young enough to be my daughter. She combines a professional attitude with a friendly smile and sympathetic, comforting eyes. Those qualities served her well as a student and will be even more essential as she sets off in her chosen profession.

This young woman just passed her certification exam to be a funeral director.

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Posted by John Sheirer at 5:57 PM | MAKE A COMMENT

Monday, Jun 01, 2009

Commencement Season

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(These two pieces are adapted from my two "Greetings from the Faculty" commencement speeches at Asnuntuck Community College, the first one in 1995, the second in 2003.)

Greetings and Welcome

I've been asked to deliver solemn and serious greetings from the faculty. Therefore it is my great honor to say to you tonight ... hi there ... howdy ... helooooo .... how's it going? ... greetings.

You're getting a college degree tonight, but what exactly does that mean?

Well, a student in one of my classes this semester, Cheryl David, one of tonight's graduates, wrote an essay that began with a great story about a friend of hers who had what she called "a bunch" of college degrees. So many of them, in fact, that her diplomas covered a good bit of one wall in a very special room of her home: her bathroom. Cheryl pointed out in her essay that her friend kept these diplomas right next to the toilet paper. And Cheryl got the impression from that arrangement that if there was no toilet paper left, you were supposed to use the diplomas.

In that context, what does it mean to earn a college degree?

When I graduated from college on a rainy spring day back in 19-blahdaty-blah, I was a bit unsure of what my college degree meant to me, so I did what I often did back then--I wrote a poem, and I'd like to share that poem with you now. (You're probably thinking, "Oh, man, I'm graduating--I thought I was done with literature!")

Well, actually, that's sort of what this poem is about. I was more than a bit tired of school when I graduated--tired of reading poems that I didn't like, tired of paying tuition, tired of studying all night, tired of listening to dull teachers, tired of taking picky tests, tired of trying to figure out what my teachers wanted me to say in my own writing. So I wrote this poem about being tired of school. It may not be very good, but that doesn't matter because I never gave it to a teacher. And best of all, it's short.

***

What to do After College

Fill your head with dirt
topsoil--rich, dark.
Plant flowers in your ears
daisies or azaleas,
trees in your eye-sockets
butternut or cottonwood,
food crops in your nose
corn, potatoes, grains.
Plow them with your tongue.

Your brain?
Keep it for amusement,
donate it to science,
or chop it up for fertilizer.

***

Well, I didn't chop up my brain for fertilizer, much as I felt like doing so more than a few times. Instead, I took some time off from education to deliver pizzas and flip burgers and sell my own plasma--but I eventually took my brain out of mothballs and went back to school. And I encourage all of you to continue your education in some way--if not now, then when you've had a bit of a rest.

Also on that day I graduated, one of my favorite teachers took me aside for a private talk. I assumed she wanted to give me words of wisdom that would mold my future and let me know how to live as a college graduate. She shook my hand warmly, and all she said was, "welcome to ... welcome to whatever the hell it is!"

Just what are you being welcomed to when you get a college degree? The bottom line is that you've achieved something that gives you both the right and the responsibility to improve your world. But how can you make the world a better place? What have you learned here that can help you improve your world?

You might have loved it here at Asnuntuck--and I think most of you did--or you might have hated it here at Asnuntuck--and I think most of you did. But you can't deny that you've learned things here that can help you make your world a better place. We can't tell you what those things are--only you can decide that. That's sort of the last question on the last final exam: "How can you take what you've learned here and apply it to make the world a better place?" If you've learned enough here simply to ask that question--How can you improve the world?--then you're farther along on the way toward answering it than ninety-nine percent of all talk show hosts and, as of last November's elections, about two-thirds of the United States Congress.

You're getting a college degree. You've done a great thing. The faculty members here on stage with me are very proud of you and honored to have been a part of your work at Asnuntuck. You deserve the highest praise we can give you. You deserve the respect and celebration of your friends and family. You deserve the chance to change the world. You've earned it. Accept nothing less.

Greetings. Congratulations. How is it going? Now go out and make the most of "whatever the hell it is."

*********************************************************************

Why We Made You Do Those Terrible Things

(Greetings From the Faculty, Commencement 2003, Asnuntuck Community College, Enfield, CT, 30 May 2003)

Before I begin, I've been asked to make an important announcement. It seems there was a computer glitch in the academic records. Some folks here tonight are a few credits short of graduating. I'd like to read a list of people who will need to see their academic advisor before the night is over. (At this point, I pulled out a sheet of paper about six feet long.)

Actually, this is a list of Asnuntuck graduates who we are hoping will run for governor of Connecticut in the next election.

Okay, so everyone here really is going to graduate tonight. But you haven't graduated yet, We have time for one more class tonight--a class whose subject matter is the terrible range of things we faculty members have put you through to get you to this point.

And please pay close attention because there will be a test later!

To begin with, let's do some writing. Could everyone please take out the #2 lead pencil and blue book that you were issued tonight with your cap and gown ... Oh, we forgot to give you blue books and pencis? I'm sorry about that.

Why did you do so much writing in your college career? Because in real life, you'll be asked to communicate extensively in written form, from daily e-mails to annual reports. And don't count on having an assistant to do your writing for you because assistants are no longer in the company budget.

How about a little reading now. Please take out your textbook and open to, oh, how about, page 4,297. Yes, that's the book you paid $150 dollars for a few short months ago but got only $3.95 when you sold it back last week.

Why so much reading? Because in real life, you will be required to digest and process vast amounts of written information. Even people with dream jobs at MTV read reports more often than they watch music videos.

How do I know that? Because I've done my research. Okay, let's do some research. You've all memorized APA and MLA documentation by now, haven't you?

We've asked you to do so much research because in real life, you will be required you to find out what other people think and to connect their thoughts with your own ideas and experience because that's how human knowledge is carried on and how human culture is built.

Okay, I can tell that I'm talking too much. It's your turn. Let's have each of you come up and give a five-minute presentation on what your college experience has meant to you. We have time, don't we? This will only take until midnight or so. You don't have any other plans for tonight, do you?

Everyone hates public speaking, but we've asked you give so many speeches because the farther you go in real life, the more you will be required to present information to small and large groups of people--unless, of course, the only public speaking you want to do in your life is long shifts of repeating, "Would you like fries with that?"

This is starting to sound way too much like a lecture, so let's change the pace a little. How about some small-group discussion? Starting over here, let's count off by fours ... ready? ... one, two, three, four, one, two, three ... Okay, this is too complicated. Just divide yourselves up into groups. So if you're sitting near someone you don't want to work with, this would be a good time to move. Go ahead, don't be shy.

Did you ever ask yourself why we did so much group work in class? It's because in real life, you will be required to be active learners in a global village where you'll need to interact with a great diversity of people to form effective communities and be good citizens of the earth.

In fact, all of these tortures we put you through--writing, reading, research, public speaking, group work--these were not just about preparing you for a job or further education. The real-life goal has been to help you become a fully rounded, thinking, feeling, doing, aware human being who can make our world community a better place--whether you run for governor of Connecticut or not. (But please, I'm begging you, consider it.)

Now, about that test that I promised ...

By a show of hands, how many of you have taken a test during your time in college? Really, that many? I never would have guessed.

I have a secret to share with you about tests. I'll probably get in trouble for revealing this secret, but you deserve to know the truth. Remember all those tests and exams and quizzes that you had to study for all those long hours? The real-life truth is exactly what you've always suspected: there is absolutely no educational reason for tests. We only made you do them because we're cruel and evil people who were only happy when you were suffering.

Congratulations. You've passed the test. And thanks for being here tonight. In real life, attendance is a very important component of your final grade.

And by the way, just in case you were wondering, tonight's class will not be getting out early, so don't even ask.

###

Posted by John Sheirer at 6:49 PM | 1 comments

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John Sheirer

John Sheirer (pronounced Shy-er) is the author of the new memoir Loop Year: 365 Days on the Trail, which received the Connecticut Green Circle Award for environmental activism, as well as the 2005 memoir Growing Up Mostly Normal in the Middle of Nowhere, a finalist for the Sante Fe Writers Project Literary Award. He teaches English and Communications at Asnuntuck Community College in Enfield, Connecticut, where he has been honored multiple times by Who's Who Among America's Teachers and recently received the Distinguished Service and Educational Excellence Award. John lives in Northampton, Massachusetts, with his wonderful wife Betsy Barone, terrific stepkids Danielle and Daryl, and Daisy the amazing hiking dog. John's website is www.johnsheirer.com, and he can be reached at jsheirer@acc.commnet.edu or (860) 253-3138.
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