I'm getting crotchety in my old age, must be something about being around all these kids.

Outside my physics lecture, some kid (see? I even call them kids) asked me "Do you know what chapter we're doing today?"

It's a pretty reasonable question, and I'm a helpful guy so I told him "We're still on Chapter Five, force and mass."

"Ah okay," he replied, "has he done chapters three and four then?"

Now, this class has three lectures a week. And we've been doing chapters three and four for the last three weeks. That means this guys has missed at least nine consecutive classes. And we've only had 12 classes. (Actually, 11, I forgot about Rosh Hashana.)

Anyway, I tell him that, yes, the professor has covered chapters three and four.

And then he asks "Has he assigned problems for those chapters?"

Okay, this is where I lose my patience, because I can see where this is going and there's no way I'm letting some punk-ass 17 year old borrow my notes just because he's too lazy to drag his ass the 500m from residence to the lecture hall.

So I hit him with a question.

"Do you even come to class?"

He's a bit taken aback, but still manages to stammer out an answer.

"Uhh, no, not really."

"Well, that's your problem." I replied, a little more curtly than I had meant to, and returned to my crossword.

I know it's a bit harsh, but I really wish someone had said something like that to me back in the day. I lost six years 'cause I was like, too smart to, like, take notes and stuff, you know?

I still remember about two weeks into my first first year, way back in '98. We were talking about politics, and I said something like "well it doesn't matter who you vote for, they're all the same anyway."

And some upper-year shot back "Cute, but if you don't know what you're talking about, just keep your mouth shut. You might learn something."

Probably some of the best advice I've gotten.

So now my new policy is tough love for the young 'uns. I'm not going to be an asshole or anything, but I'm not going to let them get away with thinking they know everything, or that they can not show up to class and still do well in school.

Another first-year was talking about one of her profs, and how she was probably a lesbian and she only got the job because 'they have to meet a quota or something.' So I gave her a quick lesson on the principle of having a faculty that reflects the diversity of the student body, and on how highly creative people tend to be a much more diverse group than the rank-and-file at your average white-collar workplace. And that she should probably be a little more careful about how she reveals her ignorance in such matters.

But I was nice about it, and there's a glimmer of hope that maybe she spent the subway ride home rethinking things.

But then, maybe she spent it thinking something like I thought back when I was seventeen.

"Why are old people always so crotchety?"

-Trevor

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