I'm not, I think--or at least I hope I'm not. Mailing it in, that is. Last week I submitted the official notification that I intend to retire at the end of Fall 2026 semester, just over a year from now. I wanted to give the Powers That Be sufficient time to find an appropriate person to replace me in each of my three campus roles in hopes that I can assist with a smooth transition, but I suspect that we'll see the usual series of delays followed by a frantic attempt to fill in with adjuncts.
I'm aware that I have no control over how the institution decides to fill the gaps created by my retirement, but I can control how hard I work for my final couple of semesters. Does being a lame duck give me permission to slack off?
Well, yes and no.
I'm teaching two new classes this fall and my students are keeping me on my toes, so I'm certainly not slacking off there. And I'm trying to plan campus events to enrich teaching and highlight faculty research, though it's a little difficult when we're suffering a campus-wide epidemic of not responding to emails. I'd like to encourage more participation in these events, but I'm not interested in holding guns to my colleagues' heads, even if I can afford to burn a few bridges.
So I'm still working hard and doing my part, but there are certain discussions on campus from which I have chosen to abstain. Do I care about the finer points of the campus calendar for the three years after I retire? Not a whit, so don't ask me to respond to any online surveys or attend another meeting. Am I eager to get worked up about the suggestion that it's time to consider revising our General Education curriculum? I've fought that fight too many times before--go recruit someone else. Do I worry about whether I'm producing enough scholarship, publishing enough articles, or providing enough service to the campus community? Well, I don't intend to fill out an annual review form ever again, so who will even know how much I contribute?
I've also slacked off in regard to complaining about conditions we're forced to endure. My campus-owned laptop has so many crotchets that I've had to develop all kinds of annoying workarounds, but nobody's going to spend money on a new laptop for my final semesters so I'm biting my tongue and doing my best with what I have. Likewise the unbearable cold in my office, the nonfunctioning clocks in the classrooms, and the stained ceiling tiles all over my building. If I were planning to stick around longer I might put some energy into lobbying to spiff up the learning environment, but at this point I'm just done with all that. If the College has been willing to put up with my repeated complaints for the past 25 years, I can probably just grin and bear it for a few semesters.
But there are a few areas where I'll put in some extra effort over the next twelve months. For one thing, I want my final semester of teaching to include something memorable, a class that allows me to dig into great literature while challenging students to think more deeply. I don't know who or what I'll be teaching next fall, but I sincerely hope it's not all first-year classes.
And I want Emeritus status--not that it counts for anything, but because I've earned it. We're in the process of changing the process for Emeritus status so it's not at all clear how to make that happen, but I'm hopeful that at some point someone will intervene in my favor.
And I want a party. There's no money for parties so for the past couple of years retirees have been allowed to slink off into the sunset without a peep, but I intend to go out with a bang even if I have to pay for it myself. I want cake and music and poetry and speeches and all my favorite people gathered round, and if I can't get that, I might just threaten to stay until I can.
Just joking. Definitely retiring at the end of next year because my eyes are too fatigued to see to the end of the day, much less the end of the decade. The end is in sight, but I can't spend too much time looking toward it while I have all these student papers to read and events to plan and nonresponsive colleagues to track down. It's a tough job but someone's got to do it--at least a little while longer.
2 comments:
Having retired two years ago, I'll say that I savored my retirement party. We told everyone my "guest book" was taking selfies with me, and I love having this collection of photos in my files.
My computer, too, was crochety right before I retired . . . so much so, that my college tech folks replaced it just to help me through that final year. They told me, as they were doing so, that emeriti got to continue to use the computer they retire with, so that the upgrade means that I've had a much more reliable laptop these last two years, something I've very much appreciated as I traveled and worked on my book. Just in case that's similiar at your institution, I thought I'd mention it.
Also, speaking of updates, thanks for all yours. I feel such a kinship to what you're writing about.
Sadly, there's absolutely no chance I'll be able to keep any college equipment when I retire. I have a desk drawer full of old cords and dead bits of tech that I'll be returning to IT. Maybe they can use it to make a collage?
And I understand why some people really don't want a party when they retire, truly I do, and in this age of austerity it seems selfish to want to celebrate. But in my view, celebrations are good for morale so we need them more than ever right now.
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