Do you, Mr. or Ms. Mature Reader, find yourself staring into the face of a new year craving new challenges? Do you miss the smell of textbooks and the trauma of finals week? Would you welcome the opportunity to meet new people and feel like a fossil?

Then you should go back to college. I did. I survived. You can too.

For many years, I’ve had half a mind to renew my academic pursuits, but I worried that half a mind might not be enough (rim shot). But it turns out the disadvantages of shriveled brain cells are offset by the sheer pigheadedness of middle age. I’ll be dagnabbed if I’m going to let any newfangled science class make a monkey’s uncle of me! Truly, obstinance is old age’s recompense for the mental agility of youth.

So, for your consideration (and my extra credit), here’s a survival guide for the returning “adult” student.

Remember, day classes are dominated by the young, while evening classes are skewed with an older crowd. Thank goodness for the Olympic College Poulsbo campus and online classes, which make higher education accessible to those of us on the north end.

No matter how tough or inapproachable they look, chances are the other — younger — students are more nervous than you are. Strike up a conversation and you’ll discover most of them are perfectly lovely people who are relieved to have someone to talk to. Apparently, we older — old — students are non-threatening, asexual teddy bears around whom the “kids” feel they can be themselves.

Cookies are the great equalizer. My motto is: If you’re old enough to be the class mom, be the class mom! File this hint under “How to win friends and bump up your grade point average.” After all, teachers like cookies too.

Good news: No peer pressure! No peers, no pressure!

Warning. Algebra kills. I myself had several near-death experiences while graphing inequalities and factoring quadratic equations. If algebra happens to you, treatment is available at the math tutoring lab. My advice is to panic early and often.

Fifty-something is a great age at which to enroll in a beginning acting class, especially if it’s taught by Bainbridge Island’s Bob McAllister. There’s nothing like drama to make one realize that self-consciousness is a waste of life.

Arrive early to class if you don’t want some chippie to steal your favorite seat.

When you learn that one of your new friends is a 17-year-old Running Start student, do not allow the words “old enough to be your grandmother” slip from your lips unless you are prepared for a long, awkward silence.

When a professor tells the class there will be a cure for wrinkles, menopause and erectile dysfunction long before anyone there needs it, fight the urge to roll your eyes and sigh wistfully.

Wear your reading glasses proudly.

You too can experience the joys and terrors of returning to school. The work is hard, but the rewards are huge. And think what an inspiration you’ll be to the younger generation.

So maybe I’ll see you in algebra. You can’t miss me. I’ll be the one in the back row, weeping softly.

— Contact columnist Wendy Tweten or her alter ego Miss Snippy at wendy@wendytweten.com