A poem about a Staff Writer’s experience being the only undergrad in a four-person seminar.

All my classmates are graying
and all of them have kids.
They probably have jobs too,
which they might have had for years.

All my classmates are adults
with mortgages and cars,
and pets, nieces and nephews,
and fathers who smoke cigars.

All my classmates are grad students,
recently returned from the strike.
They all speak Russian for some reason
and for fun, they go hike.

All my classmates are married,
and divorces, they’ve had a few.
They live in the suburbs,
and I guess one day I will too.

Gray hair via Wikimedia Commons