It’s always about the younger ones. Always. Someone I know, they tried so hard. Really put themselves out there. With the new people. Just wanted to talk, you know? About their work. About what they know. So much experience. Decades of it. And all anyone wanted to talk about was the new research. The stuff the younger faculty are doing. Like that’s the only thing that matters. Like what someone else did for so long just… doesn’t count anymore. It hits hard. I get it. This feeling. Of being overlooked. Like your contributions just disappear. When you’re home all day. With the baby. You try to keep up. You really do. With what everyone else is doing. Their careers. Their going out. And you’re just… here. Doing the same thing every day. And it’s important, what I do. It IS. But it’s not… recognized. Not like that. No one asks about my day. Not really. Or what I’m working on. Because what IS there to work on? Just keeping a tiny human alive. And then you feel bad for even wanting more. For thinking about something else. Something outside of this. This beautiful, demanding, never-ending thing. That’s supposed to be enough. And it mostly is. But sometimes… sometimes it’s not. And that person, the one I know, the professor. I just see it. That quiet disappointment. When no one asks. When they just move on to the next bright, shiny, new thing. And you’re just… there. Still. Like a fixture. Not really part of the conversation anymore. And it HURTS. It really does.