I was expanding my original list of “Ways to Recognize a Non-trad” when Jenni Heinrich, who writes the column above this one, saw my ideas and asserted that I was only writing about “old” non-trads.

She was right. Non-trads come in a variety of flavors—old, young, tall, short, male, female… you get the picture. Anyone who took a break after high school—be it for four years or 40—is a non-trad. Those in the Kellett School are usually non-trads, although some of their classes are incorporated into traditional programs.

I don’t think there really is an official, in-depth definition, but I’d say that part-time students are definitely non-trads, while full-timers who live on campus and who are working their way through school are not. Go figure.

I took an informal survey around the Mirror office, asking how everyone defined non-trads. The two who answered with something other than, “Go away… I’m writing,” said that if you commute—even if you entered college directly out of high school and you carry a full load of classes—you’re a non-trad. Congratulations, Jenni, and welcome to the club.

My point is this…

Stereotyping our crowd by using such a narrow definition serves only to reduce the pool of available subjects for me to write about. That makes finding ideas for this column really hard, and I don’t want that. So when I attribute something to a non-trad from now on, I’ll try to specify what kind of non-traditional student I’m talking about.

For instance: “You can always tell who we cranky old non-trads are, because we usually show up for classes early, and then rush out to the restroom two minutes before they begin.” And, of course, we are the only ones who don’t look puzzled when someone says, “In A Gadda Da Vida.”

Or, “You can recognize a nontrad commuter who’s been stuck behind a tractor pulling a leaky honey wagon down the highway because, when you ask why she’s late, she’s liable to rush to the Wehr Center, drag back a treadmill, then scramble to the greenhouse and get a cactus, which she might then glue to the treadmill belt and hold your head down on it with a four-inch spike heel up your nostril while she cranks the belt to warp speed, and then—each time the cactus comes around—holler something at you like, “GO AHEAD JERK… ASK ME AGAIN!”

Yeah. She might really do that. And believe me, it’s painful.

Here’s the bottom line: students at Lakeland are individuals, whether they are non-trad or not. Keep that in mind and be sensitive. And be very careful of commuters who arrive late to class.

I’ll be heading over to Health Services now.