I didn’t chicken out. My retirement decision is now irrevocable.

I didn’t chicken out. My retirement decision is now irrevocable. I had the choice between a retirement incentive of one year’s salary (no benefits) and a sabbatical (a half-year’s salary and benefits) with the option of retiring or returning at the end of the sabbatical. March 15 was the deadline for the decision.

Before the financial meltdown, I wouldn’t have given it a thought—I was taking the retirement incentive. I didn’t need to hold onto that option to return.

The economic mess made me think twice. I have one of these dithering, ambivalent- about-everything personalities. I would have spent that entire sabbatical year fretting: Should I go back or not? I decided that I needed finality. An irrevocable decision is scary, but it’s a relief that a decision has been made.

If I had any serious doubts about the wisdom of retiring, they were laid to rest when I opened my work email yesterday and saw a bereavement notice: the husband of a colleague, a man I think in his late 60’s, had died. I come from one of those families where people keel over from heart disease at an early age. If genes count for anything, the best I can hope for is low 70’s. I want to use this time well.

My husband and I are both (we think) healthy and although not as sharp as we once were (or thought we were) we have our intellectual interests and the capacity to pursue them. I don’t want to spend whatever time I have left doing the same old thing I have been doing for over 3 decades. Now on to the next stage.

These "should I or shouldn’t I retire" conversations are going on all over. According to my own unscientific survey, people with partners are more likely to take the plunge. There will be 2 social security checks, maybe 2 pensions, 2 greatly diminished 401k accounts. But then as that bereavement notice brought home to me, 2 can suddenly, unexpectedly become one.

My husband and I can live happily in retirement on less money (as long as we have each other). Much of what I like to do doesn’t cost money—-reading, puttering in my garden. My one expensive taste is travel and, in recent years, my husband I have been traveling upscale (for us). He thinks we can still travel, if we scale back.

I can deal with cutting back but I can’t go back to the way I traveled in my 20’s. (Not that he’s suggesting anything this draconian.) I bummed around Europe in the late 60's staying in youth hostels and crummy flop houses. I traveled around South America in the early 70’s in rickety little buses. Now the buses have to be air-conditioned, the bath rooms in the room--not down the hall--and no lumpy mattresses. Getting a good night’s sleep can be challenge at this stage of life.

So the traveling plans may have to be scaled back or maybe put on hold, but that’s okay. In 7 weeks, I will be free!!!!

I had never intended to retire this early.

I had never intended to retire this early. I thought I would go on forever. The original plan was to hang in until age 70, maybe a little earlier if I detected signs of burn-out. I wanted to stop teaching before I was totally burned-out. It's a matter of professional pride. I don’t want to be a burned out teacher, a spectral presence creeping along the hallways, the ghost of my former self.

Well, I may have miscalculated. I think I am burning out ahead of schedule. I will be 64 (4 months shy of 65) at end of this academic year and the signs are accumulating that it is time for me to go. In my case, these were the warning signs.

No interest in doing anything new:

Although I have been teaching at the same community college for 35 years, I managed to reinvent myself a few times and keep going by developing new courses, new programs. I started as a teacher of remedial education, but I lost the faith. I could no longer ignore the enormous gap between what I was doing in my classes and anything remotely resembling college level. So I focused on developing college level courses—a revamped composition course, an inter- disciplinary humanities course which was a lot of fun. What kept me going was a service learning course which allowed me to draw on my second (and most rewarding albeit non-paid) career as a community activist. But the best reinvention of all was as a Women’s Studies teacher 13 years ago. Now that's starting to get same-old, same-old. I’ve run out of the energy to create something new. So it’s time for me to go.

Increased depression, ( anger?) at students’ worsening language skills:

I know all old folks complain that the world is going to hell in a hand basket, but the skills decline is real. I believe passionately in the mission of community colleges and I have some wonderful students. But I can’t deal with flunking 50% of my students, which I would have to do if I were maintaining anything approaching reasonable standards. My standards get lower and lower with each passing year. I started to wonder how low can I go? I decided I didn’t want to find out. So it’s time for me to go.

Not wanting to go out on cold, snowy days:

Maybe this sounds trivial but I have heard it form other 60 something teachers. Driving in bad weather has become harder for many of us. One of my colleagues arrived one day with her retired husband. I asked him what he was doing at the College and my friend said she told him he had to drive her in; she just could not handle it that day. Another said that circling about looking for a parking space was too much and she gave up and went home. I have a bad ankle and worry about slipping on the ice. So it’s time for me to go.

I could go on and on, but what’s the point? I want to look forward to something different. I decided to start this blog to chart the next stage and maybe spark a conversation with other women entering retirement. When I am actually retired, I’ll have the time to develop an interactive web site with links to a range of resources available to women in retirement.

Anyway that's the plan—along with finally finishing a research project on second wave feminism in Philadelphia, learning Spanish, doing a little traveling ( if our retirement funds don’t completely melt away), staying involved in the feminist/ social justice movement which gives some sense of purpose to my life, getting my garden in shape, reading all those books I want to get to before I check out, and hanging out with my wonderful husband. (After 2 disastrous marriages, I finally got it right the third time around.)

The plan depends on not being totally broke, my health, my husband’s health, but it’s time for the next stage. It’s really time.

I have until March 15 to withdraw my intent to retire. Will I chicken out? Sure hope not.