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I have been pondering as September begins and brings forth a new age before us. A lot. I am in the age category in my vocation, where 30+ years of experience is secretly dismissed. It makes me smile. Finally, I had made it to where my older colleagues were when I started teaching. I was young. I was fresh. I was sort of good at what I did – and yes – I was one of those younglings who, though I didn’t ‘say’ it,’ looked at them and thought: Geez, Louise – what do YOU know …

In a world that favors looks and youth, production and success, I am quickly becoming obsolete, at least in many circles. As promotions and projects pop up on the horizon, I look at them, think: Wow, I’d be great at this .. and then let things be. I’m no longer chasing that rush of success, at least not in the same way as many younger ones. There’s nothing wrong with what ‘they’ are doing or what I am seeking – we’re just in two very different worlds. I now surround myself with colleagues more than half my age, some younger than my children. They weren’t even born when I started teaching … I’m the old, cranky art teacher who refuses to do this – have learned to focus on this – and ignore that. La vieille Gingras. And – it makes me smile.

In many cultures, getting older comes with the respect of others for what you have created and experienced during your lifetime. Younger ones go to you for advice, and you share your knowings. When people ask for my advice, it’s to NOT do what I recommend. After all, what do I know? I don’t TikTok. I don’t often post on IG, and goodness knows that Facebook is for us, the older creatures who lurk worldwide.

Here’s my take on the unspoken word AGEISM. I may not be as young anymore, but I am headed ( officially, by the way ) toward becoming the newest crone of our region. One day, hundreds will seek my advice as an intuitive reader, and many will be helped. You can’t do that when you’re young because people seek aged wisdom. I’m here, and I’m ready.

Because I’m older, I’ve had the incredible honor and privilege of seeing our adults transition. I was there when we died and moved away from Earth to Spirit World. They, too, had been dismissed and forgotten, let alone by the few people still around to care for them. Each of their lives was measured according to what they had completed work-wise. Only a few individuals remembered who they were as a PERSON – because they had gotten old. They had AGED out. Sad … and unfair.

Because I’m older, I have taught thousands of students and marked a few. I know I can’t save them all, but I have had the privilege to impact a few lives. I don’t remember everyone who has sat in one of my classrooms, but I know that 30 years in, I have always wanted to help and shape tomorrow’s minds.

Because I’m older, I can start preparing for my next chapter. Believe it or not, my brain still functions exceptionally efficiently, and I am constantly studying to better myself. I no longer have to do it for professional reasons (although last year’s learning brought me to where I am to complete these following few chapters ). I do it for personal growth and knowledge. I learned about nutrition and illness, older pets, new diagnoses, and leadership. I use my ability to create internationally sought-after conferences and paint a simple star in my Studio. I am transforming myself into the ‘old’ version of myself, hoping to someday be privileged enough to work in our local long-term facility as an activity coordinator. It’s no secret that my heart is transitioning. It’s no secret that I am reshaping my new upcoming chapters. It’s no secret that I’m getting older, and getting ‘out’ in 3 years. But know that I won’t be sitting still when I do. Never have and surely never will.

Because I’m older, I’ve been married for over 31 years, have two grown children, and I OWN my house. My husband and I have worked hard to be where we are in our lives. I may be ‘too old’ to go camping, ride a four-wheeler or a jet ski, or jog a marathon, but did I mention this? My mind is almost clutter-free about the future and what it will bring me/us.

I’m getting older. I’m a 53-year-old teacher with over 30 years of experience who no longer ‘fits.’ As I begin prepping for this semester’s new adventures, I have a secret about ‘fitting’ and ageism.

I never fit. I never have. I never will. And that beautiful people will always make me stand out in the crowd. Not my age. Not my experience. Just that simple fact that I am, and always will be – simply me.