by Mary Wyatt of Unmitigated

The first time I ever had an office job I was 19 years old. The last time I ever had an office job, I was 26 years old. If I ever, EVER even consider another office job, please, somebody shoot me. It takes a special kind of person to handle office job interaction. That person is not me. For example, my greatest source of personal pride while holding said office job? Is that I was light-years younger than everyone else. Yes, I know light-years are a measure of distance. I am a science teacher. But I feel that the term amplifies the distance between me and your typical office worker (Save!). Plus, it sounds cool.

I was, I felt, the child prodigy of business employees. I was obviously insanely intelligent, yet full of the wisdom of maturity. One example of that wisdom might be when I chided a co-worker who refused to sign up for direct-deposit of her paycheck (I was the payroll department).

“But think of the time it will save,” I said.

“Why will it save time? I’ll still have to wait in line to withdraw my money,” she countered.

“You can just use the ATM! Why would you wait in line?” I asked. This was 1987. ATM’s were VERY new.

“Those things aren’t safe. It’s a security thing.”

“It’s an age thing,” I replied.

Zing! Did I mention this was my boss’s secretary? Woohoo! I was well-loved around there, let me tell you.

Once, at a co-worker’s retirement party, I sat a table with the only two other employees who were younger than thirty. One of them, Dave, said that people were looking at us funny. “They probably want to know who brought their kids,” he said. We thought it was hilarious. Even more so when we found out he was correct.

Now, I teach. This will be my sixth year in the classroom, which makes me the rookie teacher at school. I’m forty-five years old, so people assume it’s my sixth year at this school. “Where were you before this?” they’ll ask. Now, with a few years experience, I tell the truth–I was getting my teaching degree. When I first started teaching, I found it convenient to name the district where I did my student teaching (practice teaching, for you Canadians out there) when asked the same question. Parents assumed I had experience because of my age, and I did not disabuse them of that notion. Parents can smell rookies. They circle and attack like sharks.

The really odd part now is that though I am one of the newest teachers in the building, I am also nearly the oldest. The staff in the building I work in is mostly in their late 20′s to late 30′s with twice as much classroom experience as me. Gone are the days of child prodigy. Fortunately for me (and everyone else concerned) I now actually have some of the wisdom of maturity I previously faked so poorly.

Also strange? I am one of the most technically-inclined people in the building. Poor Help Desk. When I e-mail them an issue, they start with, “Did you try rebooting your computer?” because that’s the level of expertise they expect from most of us.

“Well, no, but I am trying to troubleshoot the video interface on my classroom television, and based on the broken pin I see on the video cable, rebooting probably isn’t going to cut it.”

“Oh, it’s you.”

Apparently, I crave the feeling of sticking out like a sore thumb. I kind of dug being the weird kid that nobody understood back in my office work days, and now I am totally into the whole not-what you-expect-me-to-be vibe. I think my next move is to try out for the Chinese women’s gymnastics team because where else would you not expect to find a five foot, seven inch, size 12, uncoordinated white woman?