One year of retirement

It has to be done: while a year is in some way an arbitrary measure (especially in terms of when it starts – I’m not a New Year sort of person), having nearly completed a full year as, technically, a retired academic does seem to merit another period of reflection.

In terms of what I do every week, in many ways I would stand by what I said four months into retirement. It’s still ‘a bit of a blur’. The unfinished business is gradually winding up; two of my PhD students have submitted their theses, with one having passed and the other currently waiting for the viva. I’ve also read a lot of books, watched a lot of movies and seen some amazing theatre. If you add on to that the work associated with my role as a visiting professor at Gustavus Adolphus College, which is moving up a gear with trips to the US in March, April and May, then you have a pretty accurate picture of what I do all the time. I’ve accepted a couple of invitations to speak at interesting places in 2018. I’ve corrected proofs for pieces I wrote while I was still working (more to come in 2018) and I’ve completed more writing now than I had four months in; I’ve just finished a 9000-word piece for an edited collection arising from a conference in 2016, and I wrote a paper for another conference in 2017. This second paper forms the basis of a chapter for my next book.

I’ve been working on that book on and off, taking apart the material I already had and reorganising it, discovering where the gaps are, and finding and drafting case studies to make it all come together. It takes time, and it needs concentration, and I’ve found that my caring responsibilities can make it very difficult to get the right sort of time. Very often, I’ve just settled into some research or writing when I get a phone call from my mother which means switching off the computer and rushing round to her flat. This is hardly an experience unique to me, and perhaps if I had had children I would be better now at juggling these things.

I’ve continued to keep an eye on the ancient health MOOC, not least because every time it runs there is uncertainty about whether anyone will be paid to assist in the discussions which are a key part of it. Since I wrote it, the FutureLearn model has shifted from entirely free learning to having an option of a paid upgrade without which access to the course ends a few weeks after it finishes, and the final test (and certificate) can’t be reached. It’s not the end of the world (and some learners simply sign up and do the whole thing for free for a second time) but it wasn’t what I had in mind. Apparently learners from some parts of the world can still access free certificates, but I wouldn’t have known that had I not searched online just now.

We’re about to start the third run and it’s difficult to know how much time to invest. Many learners love it when there’s someone from the course team with whom they can interact. Part of the model is ‘learning as conversation’ and, while the conversations between learners from all over the world and from very different backgrounds act as the basis of this, from time to time the presence of someone who wrote the material goes a long way to defuse a situation or to stimulate more engagement. However, I do have other things to do with my life, so I’m hoping the tweaks I’ve made to the course material will go some way to reducing my continued input!

The house extension and garden reordering also caused a lot of disruption in year 1 of retirement. That’s all finished now, other than the dusting and reorganising of the books (only one third completed) and I hope that the simplified and even smaller garden will mostly look after itself. Financially, my pension from work is sufficient, even without the extra income from the visiting role and from working for the Quality Assurance Agency (two reviews last year, one already booked for next year), and it’s reassuring to know that there would have been little point hanging on just to increase my eventual retirement income. Why continue with the QAA work? Mainly, because it’s interesting to see how other places are run. It’s like a jigsaw puzzle in which you have limited time in which to work out what is going on and whether there are problems with it, or a whodunnit in which you’re not even sure if there has been a murder but you can ask for further evidence provided that you can think of something helpful to request.

One of the best things about retirement is that, although I have plenty of diary entries (including lots for my mother’s medical trips), I can usually get up a lot later. It hasn’t been difficult getting used to this! I can also stay up later if we want to watch more episodes of the latest box set or do more of the current jigsaw (a real one, not a QAA one). The best thing of all, however, still has to be NO MORE MEETINGS! It’s amazing just how many hours of my life I’ve wasted in university committees, in every place I’ve worked. When chairing, I learned to try to keep meetings to one hour, but some people just want to talk… and talk… and talk. I’ve never understood this. I hate flip-charts. I hate jargon. And meetings in higher education tend to involve plenty of both.

Despite my aversion to meetings, I have been to a couple for a new thing I’ve taken on: I’ve accepted appointment to a small group writing about how the church uses history, for the document on human sexuality which the Church of England House of Bishops needs to produce for 2020. In meetings, I’m particularly allergic to post-it notes, and thought I’d put all that behind me by retiring, so I was alarmed at the last meeting to be put in a small group with a pile of extra-large post-it notes. But, amazingly, it was fine. The meeting was focused, the exercise with the post-it notes was positive, and I survived.

I didn’t even have to use my tried and tested techniques for surviving meetings. I’ll write about those some other time, maybe; assuming, that is, that other people share my aversion!