It took me a long time to get this old. I've survived many challenges and opportunities to be able to wear the trophies of old age. Some of these include a balding head, bulging waistline, and wisdom that only come after years of practice. But, why do those who have not lived to achieve these awards blame us for all of their problems?

A few weeks ago I traveled down to Boston to the National Science Teachers Association's National Conference. Every eight or so years the conference happens close enough to keep me away from an airport thus giving me the possibility of finding my way there. Since it was a national conference the place was packed forcing anyone who drove to the conference center to park a good half mile away from the entrance. They did provide shuttle buses and since there was little hope my old legs would walk me there I decided to take one. Like the convention the bus was packed with science teachers who hoped they would find something at the convention that would astound their students.

I ended up sitting by a window toward the center of the bus. Sitting next to me was a young woman who was with a group of teachers. I knew this because she had her back to me as she talked to the people she came to the conference with. As soon as the bus closed its doors a foul smell diffused throughout the bus. It was obvious someone in the bus had earlier enjoyed a very unhealthy breakfast.

The problem was as soon as the scent was discovered by all in the bus everyone's eyes focused on me. Looking around I noticed I was the oldest in the bus. But, this should be no reason to believe I was the producer of the methane. The woman, whose back was still toward me started to laugh. Her conversation with her friends evolved into a whisper with a giggle thrown in to emphasize her belief that I was the producer of the scent.

I wanted to stand up and exclaim that it was not me and that I took great offense with everyone believing I was the culprit because of my age. But, as I said before, old age has a tendency to come with wisdom. Why make an embarrassing problem worse. As people left the bus in total silence I noticed a small boy with a remarkably brazen look on his face that immediately demonstrated who produced the stench.

Walking into the conference and receiving my credentials I walked to find a place I could set up the badges I was given inside a blue compartment I knew I had to wear around my neck. I have always hated this tradition because I knew who I was and I didn't care if anyone else knew who I was. As I was fumbling through the bag they gave me that held the badges a young man who worked at the convention came up to me to see if I needed some help. Looking behind me I saw many stressed faces because they thought I was holding up the line because I couldn't organize myself fast enough. There were also other younger conference goers that were also having the same problem. But, because I was the oldest everyone thought I was the roadblock to their entrance to science's future.

I was disappointed as I roamed through the main conference hall. Everything that was supposed to be new was really a rehash of programs and systems that existed many years before. The names of the programs were new but what they represented had already been used and for the most part had failed. I talked to one of the sales people who was hawking his program and told him the program did not do well when I worked it a couple of decades ago. The sales representative immediately became defensive and told me in no unnecessary terms I must be mistaken.

The sales representative must have been about 25 years old. That would have made him about 6 when I taught the program he proclaimed to be new. I just looked at him and agreed I must have been mistaken for as I stated before with age comes wisdom. Wisdom has a tendency to comprehend when an argument can't be won.

I decided to walk back to my car after the conference day had ended. It was not that I was concerned about a repeat of what had happened earlier in the day but I was concerned the two or three hot dogs I imbibed during my lunch might just rebel against me.

Adjusting my rear view mirror I observed my gray balding head. Instead of feeling sorry for myself I smiled knowing that beneath that gray balding head was a mind that years of experience could only create.

Jim Fabiano, a teacher and writer who lives in York, is a past recipient of the Maine Press Association's award for Best Weekly Column. You can E-mail Jim at: jfabino@maine.rr.com.