A s the oldest student in an M.F.A. workshop in poetry writing, I was a little nervous when our professor asked us to pair up and write two sections of a sonnet without discussion or review. The exercise turned into a valuable lesson on age diversity: I was teamed with an extraordinarily talented poet who was one of the youngest students in the course. We had little in common. I rarely wrote poetry and was old enough to be his mother, or even his grandmother. My maternal instincts surfaced. He deserved a partner who was cool and artsy, an agile millennial rather than a reticent boomer.
My sonnet mate offered to write the opening eight lines in a positive slant toward love; I agreed to shift the mood and draft the final six. Then we went off alone to write. When we returned, the instructor asked us to read the products of our blind collaborations to the class. By the time our turn came around, my heart was pounding. My partner delivered eight lyrical lines loaded with fresh insights on love. I followed his tough act with my six lines, shattering love’s loveliness and spilling its darker truths. I looked up to open mouths and a collective “Wow.” The two disparate segments fit as if we’d performed magic.
I credited the two-generation gap in our ages for pushing the contrast to a dramatic extreme. I’m certain the instructor didn’t intend for the sonnet exercise to become a diversity lesson. It was a happy accident.
Welcome to The Chronicle’s first special report devoted to age diversity on campuses. This annual issue also features compelling personal essays dealing with identity and disability — be sure to check them out.
Not all academic subjects or formats are suited to capitalize on the unique perspectives afforded by age diversity, of course, but opportunities that encourage intergenerational expression and contribution can enrich the learning experience in higher education.
Outside community colleges and continuing-education programs, older degree-seeking students are often still anomalies on college campuses. Yet given the unprecedented demographic shift occurring both nationally and globally, greater numbers of mature students are likely to find their way back into the halls of academe. By 2030, the U.S. Census Bureau projects that one in five Americans will be 65 or older, while the segment of the population 18 and younger is expected to decrease from 23 percent to 20 percent between 2014 and 2060. Among those 50 and older, many have shown an interest in returning to college. Nearly 800,000 students older than 50 were enrolled in degree-granting institutions in the fall of 2013, according to Education Department statistics.
Not surprisingly, the motivations for returning to college or entering for the first time after age 50 are often life lessons themselves. Some of the aims I’ve heard: to launch a clinic for the underserved, to become a special-education teacher, to be the first in the family to earn a degree, in hopes others will follow. Older students arrive in the classroom with decades of life and professional experiences, which offer unique perspectives that can deepen learning. However, without a specific invitation to share, such streetwise knowledge typically remains hidden. Appearing older than other students can be isolating, and there is solace in silence. The silver-haired grandmother might stand out from a class of young students initially, but if she’s insecure about being older, she’s likely to retreat into polite invisibility, even though she might have a wealth of relevant professional experience that could add much to class discussions.
W hether a classroom offers an age-friendly learning atmosphere often depends upon the instructor’s sensitivity to, and interest in, intergenerational learning. Though all forms of diversity can potentially expand thinking, aging is a feature we have in common; thus, it might be seen as a softer form of diversity and easily overlooked. An instructor might be aware of age diversity only upon scanning a room filled with students and discovering that one of them looks more like a member of the faculty. For some instructors, the older student could pose challenges or trigger preconceived notions about aging. An older student who reminds an instructor of the father who constantly put him down might be difficult to teach. Some faculty members might have doubts about whether an older student is up to the mental rigors of the coursework, or they might question the point of a late-in-life degree.
Encouraging intergenerational expression and contribution can enrich the learning experience.
Similar attitudes and challenges can be seen in the academic workplace. During my 10 years as a university development writer and editor, I saw an older employee, once valued for his knowledge of the institution’s history, faculty, and donors, fade into obscurity in the wake of an administrative turnover. The interest and sensitivity of those in power is critical to engaging older staff members as well as older students.
That can be a challenge in the classroom. Older students insecure about their age might choose online programs purely for invisibility. Others prefer the chance to be among people and to participate face-to-face in class discussions. Yet divulging professional history in the course of class discussion can be awkward, even risky, especially for an older student who might fear coming off as a know-it-all or revealing a level of experience that rivals the professor’s. In more intimate programs, students typically discover their peers’ backgrounds organically, and make it a point to learn from those whose experiences could enrich learning. For example, my master’s program de-emphasized publishing our own work, but students persisted in posing questions related to the process. It wasn’t long before students discovered that some peers (including me) had had publishing experience, and began gathering regularly outside of class to gain knowledge and tips.
Of course, real intergenerational learning works both ways. Younger students often bring technical and other skills honed through experience. Older students who grew up before the internet often lag behind in computer and other technical skills. Fostering an age-friendly learning environment could lead to more opportunities for collaborative learning and mentoring among students — invaluable skills to take out into the world.
Age-inclusive higher-education models do exist, and might serve as resources for creating a learning environment of inclusion. In Ireland, Dublin City University has taken a lead in this area, establishing “Age Friendly University” principles developed through an international, interdisciplinary effort and working to build a network of global partners in higher education. Its goals have since been embraced by other colleges, including a few in the United States. Among them is Lasell College, in Massachusetts, which promotes learning across generations by incorporating a retirement community as part of the campus. A growing number of colleges nationwide have established similar relationships with retirement communities.
Even without such initiatives, individual faculty members have the power to influence inclusion by creating opportunities for students of all ages to communicate and collaborate. The impromptu pairing of two authors of different generations to create a sonnet that delighted an audience might have been the best experience of my M.F.A. program — an unexpected show-don’t-tell lesson.
Susan Sarver is a former academic staff member and the author of Returning to College, Continuing to Learn, After 50, published this year by New Forums Press.
