I've rarely felt as old as I did when I taught my first Sunday School class.
When I agreed to become a Sunday School volunteer at our church at the beginning of the school year, I thought I would be helping the teacher. No, I was the teacher. That is, I rotate Sundays with three other adults. That means we each teach about once per month.
I say "teach" very loosely, which isn't a surprise with a roomful of three year olds. Much of the time is spent in free play, but we always have a story and craft set to a specific theme (which seem to correspond to the day's readings or current holiday). And, of course, there's Edith's favorite part: snack time.
We generally have about six kids in the class, and two sixth-graders as helpers. They're fun kids, and I enjoy my Sunday duties. Out of all of the parenting milestones, however, this feels like a big one. Being looked up to by multiple kids -- in a church setting nonetheless: that's definitely being a real, live, true adult.