But How DO You Bring a Career to a Close?

Pocket watch with chain

I’m only semi-retiring; I’m leaving the main part of my job, but turning the research secondment into a new part-time contract. The technicalities are one thing: fill in the appropriate forms for receiving your pension. Decide what to do about outstanding holiday entitlement. Set things in motion for a new contract. Wait. Start counting the weeks, and then the days. Wait some more.

As I said in an earlier post, you can try to inject a few fun things into lunch-breaks, to brighten up the days. (I’m grateful to work in a place where there are loads of performances going on.) Meanwhile, you’re still at work in the old job. You know, and everyone else knows, that in a couple of months you won’t be there. In my unrealistic mind, I’d hoped to go out in a blaze of glory, but I don’t feel glorious or triumphant at all. How are you supposed to FEEL?, I asked a considerably older friend. They looked at me in a way that said they’d never asked themselves that!

Clearing Clutter (and Treasures)

I sit cataloguing donations and glumly eyeing piles that everyone would like to be cleared out of the way before I clear off! A late night email (which I found the next day) seemed to hint at that. But if I haven’t cleared the piles of donations by now, working steadily, then am I reasonably going to get the whole lot out of the way in two months? Am I not working hard enough? It’s a bit depressing, actually. On the other hand, when I arrived in 1988, there was a half a rolling stack full of donated materials. I used to wonder if I’d still be needed once I’d catalogued them all. Of course, they were all dealt with decades ago. None of our donations are remotely that old; there aren’t nearly as many; and no, I wasn’t discarded when the original donations were all done and dusted! Maybe it’s unrealistic to expect a final, purging blitz on what’s there now. Leave something for my successors.

Occasionally I get over-excited about treasures that crop up amongst the more routine stuff.  (Over 200 years old?  How could I NOT be excited?!  One of the joys of having two parallel careers is having research knowledge that illuminates historical library materials.  Sharing that knowledge sufficiently so that everyone else is aware of the treasures – that’s another thing entirely.  Who wants to be trapped by an old librarian keen to share stories about ancient scores and famous poets?)

The Paranoia about Becoming Irrelevant – ‘Yesterday’s News?’

I’ve been keeping a ‘handover document’ for almost a year now, and every so often I think of something to add to it. Often things occur to me after I’ve had to deal with something, and realise that maybe it needs noting down! ‘It won’t be your concern in a few weeks’, my older spouse tells me. It’s hard adjusting to the certainty that things will be done differently once I’m gone. Things that I think should be done one way, will assuredly be done differently, and that’s to be expected. Even the things that I value aren’t necessarily of the same value to other folk – that’s the hard bit! (Mind you, some of the things I value have historical AND monetary value.  My valued things aren’t valued without good reason.)

Silhouette of woman at computer desk in library
Image by Chen from Pixabay

On the plus side, of course, is my list of research things to investigate, calls for papers and articles and chapters. I haven’t run out of steam, intellectually – far from it. My second book about to commence the copy-editing process. A research paper to write for a conference in July. New adventures on the horizon – oh, I really can’t wait for some new adventures! (I’m not a dull cataloguer – I’ve just ended up backed into a wee cataloguing corner.  Neither does everyone find cataloguing tedious, but I have really done too much of it!)

You get lots of advice about how to write a CV, how to start your career with a flourish, how to make your mark. How to get on in the world. How to progress. But it seems there’s little advice about how to gracefully bow out!

This isn’t something unique to me – retirals happen all the time. What do other people do? Do you set up appointments to say goodbye to people? (Hard, when I’ll still be around, albeit in a different department.) Do you try to set up one last workshop/seminar/whatever before you go? [Post Script: you don’t!]

Or just try to be inconspicuous until the Last Day arrives?!

Old pocket watch Image by Bernd from Pixabay

Time to Reflect

My research has been on hold whilst I recover from eye surgery. Firstly, a UK ‘fit note’ says you’re unfit to work (and research is work); and secondly, my good eye soon tells me if I’ve placed too many demands on it. It’s weird to look at a computer screen when one eye  is compensating for the other one (that doesn’t fully focus and has an obstruction in the form of a black gas bubble). 

So, no research reading, though I have bought a couple of books for later.  But that doesn’t stop me thinking. I can’t help doing that.

The other evening, I started a very short list of potential research directions. I can’t proceed with any of them until (a) I am back at work, (b) I can get to various libraries and archives, and (c) I get the go-ahead to drive.

Each potential direction requires me to venture along the path to see what’s round the corner.  Not just, whether there’s enough to research, but whether there might be an interested audience for it. For example, there are two Scottish women musicians I’d like to know more about  – a Victorian and an Edwardian.  One never was a big name, except in her locality.  The other did enjoy fame, but she is virtually forgotten today.

Or, two Scottish music publishers with religious inclinations.  Does anyone care today, apart from me? I’m interested in what exactly they published; and whether they ever interacted in any way.  But is anyone else interested? (I had these hesitations about my mediaeval music research, decades ago. It was possibly one of the reasons it foundered.)

In any of these topics, I have to place the subjects into their social and cultural context, if I am to demonstrate relevance or significance in the grander scheme of things.  My motivation is to examine what these individuals and firms’ music and activities tell us about the era in which they lived and worked.

But then there’s the question of impact. I don’t have to so much as open my laptop, let alone a book, to start worrying that I haven’t yet come up with a mind-blowing angle that will knock the world’s socks off!   Moreover, there is no conceivable way I can make any of my research relate to climate change; saving the earth’s resources; social good or benefit to health.  

And so I sit, blurrily gazing into the middle distance, reflecting! I have the go-ahead to return to work on Monday. Blurrily!

Image by nateen08650 from Pixabay

Pat Thomson Blogs about Research Significance

This is thought-provoking:-

Research key words – Significance

I find myself looking at the various strands of my research that I’m considering pursuing, and asking myself sternly, ‘Does this have significance? Is anyone going to benefit from my finding out more about this, as opposed to that, or maybe the other … ?’ Why do I want to pursue these various aspects? What might the outcomes tell us?

58 Weeks to Go – How is This Meant to Feel?

Goalposts

The government moved the goalposts – when I started work, I imagined I’d have retired by now.  Instead, I’ve worked an extra five years, with one more to go. I shall hit 66 in summer 2024.  I don’t want to retire entirely, but I must confess I’m utterly bored with cataloguing music! (Except when it turns out to be a weird little thing in a donation, perhaps shining a light on music education in earlier times, or repertoire changes, or the organisation behind its publication – or making me wonder about the original owner and how they used it … but then, that’s my researcher mentality kicking in, isn’t it?!)

Status Quo: Stability and Stagnation

Everyone knows I’m somewhat tired of being a librarian.  Everyone knows that my heart has always been in research.  Librarianship seemed a good idea when I embarked upon it, and it enabled me to continue working in music, which has always been my driving force.  But the downside of stability – and I’d be the first to say that it has been welcome for me as a working mother – has been the feeling of stagnation.  No challenges, no career advancement, no extra responsibility.  Climbing the ladder?  There was no ladder to climb, not even a wee kickstep!  (I did the qualification, Chartership, Fellowship, Revalidation stuff. I even did a PhD and a PG Teaching Cert, but I never ascended a single rung of the ladder.)

In my research existence, I get a thrill out of writing an article or delivering a paper, of making a new discovery or sorting a whole load of facts into order so that they tell a story. I love putting words on a page, carefully rearranging them until they say exactly what I want them to say. I’m good at it. But as a librarian, I cannot say I’m thrilled to realise that I’ve now catalogued 1700 of a consignment of jazz CDs, mostly in the same half-dozen or so series of digital remasters.  (I’d like to think they’ll get used, but even Canute had to realise that he couldn’t keep back the tide.  CDs are old technology.)

The Paranoia of Age

But what really puzzles me is this: when it comes to the closing years of our careers, is it other people who perceive us as old? Is age something that other people observe in us?  Do people regard us as old and outdated because they know we’re close to retirement age? 

Cognitive Reframing (I learnt a psychology term!)

Cognitive reframing? It’s a term used by psychologists and counsellors to encourage someone to step outside their usual way of looking at a problem, and to ask themselves if there’s a different way of looking at it.

So – in the present context – what do other people actually think? Can we read their minds? Of course not. Additionally, do our own attitudes to our ageing affect the way other people perceive us?  Do I inadvertently give the impression that I’m less capable?  Do I merely fear that folk see me as old and outdated because I know I’m approaching retirement age? A fear in my own mind rather than a belief in theirs?

How many people of my age ask themselves questions like these, I wonder?

Shopping Trolley

Am I seen as heading downhill to retirement?  Increasingly irrelevant?  Worthy only to be sidelined, like the wonky shopping-trolley that’s only useful if there’s nothing else available?

Is my knowledge considered out-of-date, or is it paranoia on my part, afraid that I might be considered out of date, no longer the first port-of-call for a reliable answer?

When I queue up for a coffee, I imagine that people around me, in their teens and early twenties, must see me as “old” like their own grandparents.  And I shudder, because I probably look hopelessly old-fashioned and fuddy-duddy.  But is this my perception, or theirs?  Maybe they don’t see me at all.  Post-menopausal women are very conscious that in some people’s eyes, they’re simply past their sell-by date.  I could spend a fortune colouring my hair, and try to dress more fashionably, but I’d still have the figure of a sedentary sexagenarian who doesn’t take much exercise and enjoys the odd bar of chocolate!  (And have you noticed, every haircut leaves your hair seeming a little bit more grey than it was before?)

Similarly, I worry whether my hearing loss (and I’m only hard of hearing, not deaf) causes a problem to other people?  Does it make me unapproachable and difficult to deal with?  I’m fearful of that.  Is it annoying to tell me things, because I might mis-hear and have to ask for them to be repeated?  Or do I just not hear, meaning that I sometimes miss information through no fault but my own inadequate ears?  Friends, if you thought the menopause was frightening, then believe me impending old age is even more so. I don’t want to be considered a liability, merely a passenger. And I know that I’m not one. But I torment myself with thoughts that I won’t really be missed, that my contribution is less vital than it used to be.

Gazing into the Future

Crystal ball
Crystal Ball Gazing

I wonder if other people at this stage would agree with me that the pandemic has had the unfortunate effect of making us feel somewhat disconnected, like looking through a telescope from the wrong end and perceiving retirement not so much a long way off, as approaching all too quickly?  The months of working at home have been like a foretaste of retirement, obviously not in the 9-5 itself (because I’ve been working hard), but in the homely lunch-at-home, cuppa-in-front-of-the telly lunchbreaks, the dashing to put laundry in before the day starts, hang it out at coffee-time, or start a casserole in the last ten minutes of my lunchbreak.  All perfectly innocuous activities, and easily fitted into breaks.  But I look ahead just over a year, and realise that I’ll have to find a way of structuring my days so that I do have projects and challenges to get on with. 

Not for me the hours of daytime TV, endless detective stories and traffic cops programmes. No, thanks!  Being in receipt of a pension need not mean abandoning all ambition and aspiration. I want my (hopeful) semi-retirement to be the start of a brand-new beginning as a scholar, not the coda at the end of a not-exactly sparkling librarianship career.  If librarianship ever sparkles very much!

I’m fortunate that I do have my research – I’m finishing the first draft of my second book, and looking forward to a visiting fellowship in the Autumn.  As I wrote in my fellowship application, I want to pivot my career from this point, so that I can devote myself entirely to being a researcher, and stop being a librarian, as soon as I hit 66.  And I want to be an employed researcher.  I admire people who carve a career as unattached, independent scholars, but I’d prefer to be attached if at all possible!

Realistically, I will probably always be remembered as the librarian who wanted to be a scholar.  At least I have the consolation of knowing that – actually – I did manage to combine the two.