“Why was Cronus so envious of Zeus?” asks one of the students in the grade five class.
“He was worried that his sons would simply take control of everything,” I reply, delighted that the student shares my interest in Greek mythology. “You know, sort of like how certain kings throughout history have felt threatened by their sons or brothers and had them quietly ‘removed’.”
“So he and the Titans went to war with the Olympians, didn’t they? It must have been an incredible battle!” Liam’s response ignites a chorus of agreement.
As the teacher-on-call for the day, I am enjoying this diversion from the Social Studies 5 curriculum and the teacher’s well-laid plans. When I present their favourite gods’ names in their original form—using the Greek alphabet—the students clamour to see their own names in Greek.
For the rest of the period, I indulge their delight in code-breaking, remembering how thrilled I had been doing the same early in my retirement-vacation. I leave them hopeful that I will return with more codes and stories on Monday.
Reflecting on this episode during my ‘unretirement,’ I recall that my decision to return to teaching as an itinerant version of my former self had not been without doubts.
What if the students and millennial staff perceived me as too old and incapable of relating to today’s youth or functioning in today’s classroom?
What if I wasn’t adept enough with the technology used in the workplace?
What if I wasn’t up-to-speed with the seismic changes in our socio-political landscape since I last taught? How fluent was I in ungendered language or the language of decolonization?
Encouraged by a successful interview and easy interaction with staff and students, fear soon gave way to a feeling of, ‘you got this’—after all, this wasn’t my first rodeo!
Strangely, it wasn’t just my experience as a marshaller of people and champion of their best selves that mattered. I felt better adapted to the job because a decade outside the profession—pursuing other interests, honing other skills, and investigating other cultures—had helped me develop a far broader literacy of the forces that have shaped our world.
Enriched by the time retirement had afforded me, I re-entered the classroom renewed, refreshed, and invigorated by the challenge of mentoring minds in today’s world.
I am not alone in choosing to continue working beyond the traditional launch of one’s golden years.
Recent statistics reveal that 24 percent of Canadians over 65 remain in the workforce, up 11 percent since 2000.
The numbers clearly reflect the lifting of Canada’s mandatory retirement age of 65 in 2009, but they also include retirees, like myself, who chose to ‘unretire’ some years after formally leaving work.
The reasons for renegotiating one’s retirement are multiple and reflect how our understanding of age and lifelong well-being has shifted.
When Lester B. Pearson created the Canada Pension Plan in 1965 to assist seniors aged 65 and older retiring from the workforce (mostly men at the time), the life expectancy of recipients was 68.
Today, anyone retiring in Canada can expect to live well into their eighties. Indeed, some, like the oldest Canadian, may live fifty years beyond their CPP eligibility.
The desire to remain actively engaged because we are capable, coupled with the need to add more “gold” to our longer golden years, bridges the full-on working years with the less active, non-revenue-earning years of life.
Often, these crossover jobs in our 60s and 70s satisfy the need to contribute and stay connected while avoiding the pressures and responsibilities of one’s former role. Paula Staight, a former perinatal social worker in a busy hospital maternity ward, now looks forward to serving patrons in a concert hall concession a few times a month: “It’s pleasurable work, and I like the social part of it. I can also always find a way to use that extra influx of cash I earn slinging wine!”
Howie Hunt, formerly a machine operator in a manufacturing facility, recently signed on part-time as a meat cutter in a large grocery store. It’s the schedule flexibility he loves: “I can tell them when I can work each week, and when I’ll be away. You can’t get burned out with that kind of arrangement!”
What may be lost in pay or prestige is more than compensated by workplace flexibility, congeniality, and the satisfaction of knowing you are still contributing.
On one level, having a job that gives one a reason to get up in the morning and facilitates reaching out to others (what the Japanese call ikigai) is vital to well-being.
On another, researchers have found that meaningful work provides purpose that is life-sustaining.
Cheryl George, a retired RN, transitioned to being a care consultant and public advocate for Eden Care Communities, a not-for-profit organization committed to elder care that nurtures and empowers residents within a supportive community.
Spotlighting Eden Care’s unique philosophy at national and international conferences, Cheryl, at 74, shows no sign of slowing down. “I love my job and really believe in the value of what I’m doing. I think if I gave it up, my whole reason for being would come undone.”
We have all known driven individuals who never recovered from the disorientation and devastation felt upon relinquishing their work, identity, or lifelong passion. A 2010 study of 308,949 people showed that having a purpose (and the social validation and connectedness it engenders) increases survival by 50 percent.
You may recall the famous Blue Zone research on the longest-living people, which found that maintaining “a reason to be”—whether through paid labour, self-employment, or voluntary care of others—was a key component of well-being and longevity.
Yes, it wasn’t hard to leave behind deadlines, repetitive tasks, and three-hour commutes, but giving up entirely on public-facing endeavours may not be in our best interests.
Whether drawn back to a former role or exploring a new venture, working alongside people striving to make life a little better for others extends our sense of usefulness, purpose, and gratitude. As we negotiate the terms of our new retirement and seek more soul-oriented rather than goal-oriented satisfaction, the prospect of never retiring becomes not a source of dread, but one to embrace with joy.
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