After decades of teaching teenagers and mastering every technology from DOS to TikTok, I'm tired of well-meaning twenty-somethings explaining self-checkout machines to me like I've never seen a screen before.
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Last week at the grocery store, a twenty-something helped me reach a box of cereal from the top shelf. Sweet gesture, truly. But then she slowly explained how to use the self-checkout machine, enunciating each word as if I'd never seen technology before.
I wanted to tell her I'd been using computers since before she was born, that I'd taught myself HTML in the early 2000s to create lesson plans for my English students. Instead, I just smiled and thanked her, exhausted by yet another assumption about what it means to be over 60.
After 32 years of teaching high school English and now several years into this new chapter of writing, I've noticed patterns in how younger generations view those of us with gray hair and laugh lines. Some assumptions are harmless, even endearing.
Others? They're genuinely exhausting, creating invisible walls between generations that don't need to exist.
1) We're technologically hopeless
Here's what really happens: My former student texts me about a writing opportunity. I respond immediately. She's shocked I text "normally" without typing in all caps or signing my name at the end of each message. When did basic competence become surprising?
Many of us adapted to every technological shift of the past four decades. We learned DOS commands, survived Y2K, migrated from flip phones to smartphones, and yes, we can figure out your apps.
Some of us even prefer reading on tablets because we can adjust the font size without shame. The assumption that we're all befuddled by technology dismisses decades of adaptation and learning. It's particularly ironic when you consider we're the generation that actually watched the internet being born.
2) Our bodies are falling apart
Yes, I've had both knees replaced. At 65 and 67, I went through surgeries that taught me more about resilience than any self-help book ever could. But you know what? Three months after each surgery, I was hiking again. Six months later, I was doing things I hadn't done in years because the chronic pain was finally gone.
The exhausting part isn't that our bodies change; it's the assumption that we're all fragile, declining, or constantly discussing our ailments. Most of us are actively maintaining our health, trying new activities, and often in better shape than we were at 40 because we finally have time to prioritize wellness.
When someone half my age treats me like I might shatter if I lift a bag of potting soil, it's not protective; it's patronizing.
3) We're stuck in the past
"Do you remember when...?" Yes, I remember. I also remember yesterday, and I'm planning for tomorrow. The assumption that we're all nostalgic relics, forever comparing everything to "the good old days," misses the richness of living through multiple decades of change.
Recently, I read Rudá Iandê's new book "Laughing in the Face of Chaos," and one line stopped me cold: "You have both the right and responsibility to explore and try until you know yourself deeply." At 70, I'm still exploring, still trying, still becoming.
The past informs my present, but it doesn't imprison me there. We're not museums; we're living libraries, constantly adding new volumes.
4) We don't understand modern relationships or identity
During my teaching years, I watched thousands of teenagers navigate identity, relationships, and self-discovery. I've seen every iteration of human connection, every struggle with belonging, every brave moment of self-declaration. The vocabulary might have evolved, but the human heart hasn't changed that much.
What's exhausting is when younger people explain modern relationships or gender identity as if we've been living under rocks. Many of us have been allies and advocates longer than you've been alive. We've watched society's understanding expand, and often, we've been part of pushing those boundaries.
Just because we might stumble over pronouns occasionally doesn't mean we don't understand or support the beautiful complexity of human identity.
5) Retirement means we have nothing but time
"You're retired; you must be so bored!" Actually, I started writing at 66, and I've never been busier. The assumption that retirement equals endless empty hours waiting to be filled by babysitting grandchildren or volunteering for everything is exhausting.
Many of us are pursuing passions we postponed, starting businesses, traveling with purpose, or simply enjoying the freedom to structure our days intentionally. When I retired at 64 because my knees couldn't handle teaching anymore, I mourned briefly, then discovered entirely new purposes.
Time isn't something we're trying to kill; it's something we're finally free to use deliberately.
6) We're out of touch with real problems
Someone recently suggested I couldn't understand housing costs because "your generation had it easy." Did we? Many of us graduated into recessions, raised families through economic uncertainty, and are now helping both aging parents and struggling adult children.
We're not observing current problems from some distant, comfortable perch; we're living them alongside you.
What's particularly exhausting is the assumption that our experience invalidates our understanding of current challenges. We've seen cycles, patterns, and how certain solutions play out over time. That perspective could be valuable if anyone thought to ask for it rather than assuming we're clueless about "real" problems.
7) We're all the same
Perhaps the most exhausting assumption is the homogenization of everyone over 60 into one gray-haired monolith. We're Boomers, Gen X, and everything in between.
We're conservative and liberal, traditional and revolutionary, tech-savvy and tech-avoidant. We're starting new careers, raising grandchildren, caring for parents, traveling the world, or contentedly reading in our gardens.
The friend who suggested I start writing understood something younger folks often miss: we're not finished becoming ourselves. As I mentioned in a previous post about finding purpose after retirement, transformation doesn't have an expiration date.
Final thoughts
These assumptions create unnecessary distances between generations who could learn so much from each other. Yes, I move a bit slower getting up from low chairs. But I also bring decades of problem-solving, adaptation, and perspective to every conversation.
When we stop assuming and start connecting, something magical happens. The twenty-something who helped me with the cereal?
When I mentioned I was buying ingredients for a recipe I was testing for my blog, her whole demeanor shifted. Suddenly, I wasn't just another old person needing help; I was a fellow creator. We ended up exchanging Instagram handles right there in aisle seven.
That's all any of us want, really: to be seen as the complex, evolving humans we are, regardless of the number of candles on our birthday cake.
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