The Time-Travelling Student

Week two of classes is in the books, and the vibes have shifted as people settle in. Still lots of people wandering around campus but it's a lot quieter. Gone are the club tables and special events and noisy reunions of old friends after the summer. So how is the experience any different for me, the time traveler? There are quite a few surface-level changes. Students jam onto the O Train, not the route 117 bus I took back in the day at Carleton. Almost everyone is staring at their phone when they aren't interacting with others (as I am while I take these notes). People isolate themselves further with the big, over-the-ears headphones. In the classroom, like the room where I have two of my classes, back-row seats are a premium. Not because you can hide more effectively from the prof, but because that's where you can plug in your phone or laptop. Never had to deal with that before...  And I swear these rooms have the same desks with the fold-up writing surfaces that were stan...

I know, I got the cliché backward - it's supposed to be Day One that leads to One Day... but hey, I'm a time traveler.  And so, this week, after a couple of years of dreaming and planning and hammering out details, I returned to school. "One day I'll go back," became "Day one". (At some point, it became obligatory to take pictures of your kids on their first day of school.  Well, here ya go. Thanks to my former colleagues for the backpack and the pins...) The two classes I had are both first-year level, though reserved for music students. And this is how I came to be sitting next to a young man who was attending his very first lecture in his very first course after high school. He is me, more than 40 years ago. First reaction - I've yet to see anyone close to my situation. There can't be anyone in my two classes so far, aside from the profs, who is over 30. To call this feeling weird is underselling it. But I also think it's going to be good ...

  A crystal-clear memory I have of university is that the first week means one long lineup after another. I lined up to enroll in class, to get my timetable, to get my student card, to buy my books, to pay my fees, etc. etc. Today’s experience is different. Maybe even better. Through the magic of the internet, I was able to enroll in my classes for the fall and figure out my timetable weeks ago. And by submitting a photo online, I found I could just wander in and get my student card. Magic. I’d still need to come to campus to pick it up, but at least I wouldn’t have to stand in line for hours to get a picture done. But I still a couple of questions prior to the start of classes: Where exactly is the Music Department’s office? And can I find out exactly where my classrooms are so I’m not panicking on the first day? I was an information professional throughout my career, but repeated scouring of Ottawa U’s website yielded no answers.   I did, however, find what appeared ...

I am a time traveller. I live here and now. But I’ve come from somewhere long ago. Where I’ve come from looks a lot like what we see today, but so many things were different then. When I went to university, I didn’t text my classmates about assignments – there was no texting. I didn’t do my research with Google – it didn’t exist. I didn’t e-mail my prof with questions – there was no e-mail. I didn’t distract myself in lectures scrolling on my phone – my phone didn’t scroll. It hung on a wall. Sure, I listened to music on the bus on the way to class – by playing cassettes on my Walkman, through foam speakers that sat on my ears. “Hang on,” you say. “You’re not a time traveller. You’re just old.” Yeah, ok, fair. But here’s the thing. After 40 years of making a living pushing words around, I’ve retired from the work world. I’m going back to university in my sixties to study music, purely for interest and fun. And I’m starting as an undergrad. Again. (Insert Steve Buscemi ...