The Class of 2020

Justin told me last night that the years are starting to go by faster. I marvel at such an observation from a not-quite-seven-year-old. I remember how long school years felt during elementary school. And how short summers felt by high school. But for Justin to notice this phenomenon of accelerating time at his age stuns me.

The boys began first grade this week. They will be seven in late October. When I entered first grade I was five, did not turn six until nearly Christmas, and had never attended a single day of pre-school, "pre-primary school," or kindergarten.

I find it remarkable when I compare the boys' first schooling experiences with my own. By the beginning of first grade my sons were fourteen months older than me, had five more years of school experience (a local co-op, a nursery school, two years of the PBS Early Learning Center, and a year of kindergarten), and had run up individual tuition bills rivaling my Ivy League education.

If they finish school in twelve years and college in four--and I know few California students who do these days--they will be graduates of the Class of 2020. I can't think of a better year to graduate.

This year's college freshman are members of the Class of 2008. Each fall I enjoy reading Beloit College's annual Mindset List, a compilation of cultural milestones that "distinguish this generation from those that preceded it." Each year the list holds a few surprises, and several mysteries.

Samples from this year's Mindset List for the Class of 2008:

• Baby Jessica could be a classmate.
  
• The Energizer bunny has always been going, and going, and going.
  
• There has always been a Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.
  
• There have never been any Playboy Clubs.
  
• Mike Tyson has always been a contender.

You can read the rest at Beloit's web site which also includes links to the lists for the previous six years.

The item that most caught my attention this year--the one that sent me to the internet to verify it--was the statement that for the Class of 2008, there have always been night games at Wrigley Field. Technically correct, I suppose, assuming two-year-olds weren't cognizant of a tradition of daytime baseball in Chicago: the first night game was on August 8, 1988 (and shortened by rain). I would have guessed that game was no more than ten years ago.

Justin's observation that the years pass more quickly is truer than ever.