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IT IS obvious that nobody can provide a simple recipe for dignified retirement that fits most institutions of higher learning. In much the same way that curricular and professional career questions must be dealt with in accordance with an institution's size, goals, and by laws, the increasingly thorny problem of retirement must be approached in its proper human and institutional context.
In, say, a small liberal arts college, the support group from which future retirees have drawn, and continue to draw, their main social and intellectual resources may very well go beyond their colleagues in the immediate discipline. In contrast, larger PhD-granting institutions are generally structured so strongly along the lines of academic disciplines, or even of subdisciplines called specialties, that the much assailed departmental unit has become almost naturally the primary focus for the professional and human allegiance, of all members, from the youngest nontenured assistant professor to the most seasoned preretiree. Although senior colleagues are often highly respected because of their experience and accomplishments, they become vulnerable once they are seen as candidates for retirement, especially if that step has been tacitly suggested as a way to rejuvenate the program. Quite obviously, no matter how the battle lines are drawn, the much discussed self-protection of a department, traditionally dominated by tenured members, has at least two consequences. On the one hand, this stance can be construed as the main, if not insurmountable, hurdle to be overcome by junior faculty members; on the other hand, it may also be the main, or even the only, intellectual and human support and resource structure available to elderly colleagues. Most faculty members, if asked, anchor themselves instinctively in their academic unit, where they have often spent the most productive decades of their professional lives. I would assert that the departmental unit is strong on most major campuses largely because it remains the natural center of gravitation, the place where academic professionals find an understanding home, a modicum of identity and recognition, and a ready platform for their activities. In an age of increasingly anonymous organizational structures, a department seems to offer a refuge (I do not hesitate to use that protective metaphor) that still values and cultivates a sense of belonging. It functions in this way particularly for faculty members working in large institutions whose sheer size and complexity make anonymity and impersonality inevitable. Since my own experience has been, for the most part, with a large comprehensive university, I henceforth restrict my comments to that type of institution and leave it to you to decide whether some of my remarks, examples, or suggestions also apply to your institution. Finally, stressing the human factors that determine retirement strategies, I concentrate on: (1) the mixed blessings of early- or phased-retirement options, (2) the importance of tracking and preparing the transition, and (3) the need for rituals and continuation.
It must be stated at the outset that so-called early- or phased-retirement options have often worked quite well for at least two of the three parties involved. I say three parties because what is good for the university's administration (there are very few drawbacks for the central administration, especially from a strategical vantage point) may range from equally desirable to bittersweet to less or even undesirable for the retiree or the department. Because the department and its members are small units and the most directly affected base of the organizational pyramid, their perspectives are more likely tactical than strategical. Most phased-retirement plans allow a faculty member to opt either to teach part time in each academic year for a determined period, usually not exceeding five years, or to teach full time for part of each year, typically for a semester or a quarter or two. The assumption is that the individual will face retirement gradually rather than abruptly and will enjoy a relatively long transition period in which to adjust to the new status. But this humane approach to the problem of retirement has its price. As long as the partial-retirement arrangement is in effect, the faculty line for the early retiree's position will remain blocked, preventing the department from filling that line for an extended period. Conversely, because of an employment pattern that is not always predictable, program participants often end up, by circumstance rather than by design, teaching less desirable types of courses. There is no doubt that the preretiree's schedule and course options are limited because of the arrangement's side effects, such as the interruption of course rotations. This means that while most chairs continue to exercise as much discretion and flexibility as possible, their options are curtailed by internal program realities. In making assignments to colleagues participating in phased-retirement programs, they must take into account questions of health and of mental and emotional as well as physical fatigue, together with student responses to these teachers. Ideally, there are no constraints, and the individual participant can be dealt with like any other faculty member. Not infrequently, however, the situation is complicated by problems ranging from the preretiree's failing health to course rotation to student resistance. In any case, it is the chair's responsibility to handle these questions with a maximum of tact, discretion, and humanity.
In their 1985 study of older employees, Benson Rosen and Thomas H. Jerdee state that “University faculty members have been known to refuse substantial monetary incentives in order to preserve their academic lifestyle. In some instances, it is almost seen as if they see acceptance of a buyout offer as selling out on their profession.” While the study offers no statistical evidence for this supposedly widespread resistance (my own observation has been that more than half the faculty members offered decent early-retirement options take them), the acceptance rate clearly depends as much on the packaging of the offer as it does on the monetary value. To begin with, the term “buyout” almost automatically provokes resistance because of its implications. “The idea behind these incentives,” the authors say, “is not so much to eliminate low producers as to reduce the financial burden of carrying a large number of highly paid senior employees. … Buyout provisions have become quite popular in union contracts. They have also become a last resort for university administrations whose penchant for mandatory retirement has been thwarted by federal legislation” (184). No wonder then, that, if addressed as “resources” rather than as individuals, some faculty members refuse to be considered overpriced commodities, especially if they are, by objective standards, still productive researchers and senior teachers who continue to inspire students and to act as role models to junior colleagues.
The problem, of course, is to sort out tactfully those who fall into the category of acceptable standards and those who tend to hinder rather than help their academic programs. In all situations, but especially in academic departments that do nor emulate corporate attitudes in dealing with these questions, a differentiated appreciation of the human aspects of the problem should remain at the top of the agenda. There should be early recognition of all issues involved, and discussions of the full range of strategy options should begin many years before retirement is imminent. This brings me to the second point I wish to discuss, the importance of tracking.
Not surprisingly, the two authors cited above see alternative retirement options strictly from a corporate angle. They speak of “other ways to grease the skids,” “dumping strategy,” “vehicles for skidding employees smoothly onto the retirement scrap heap,” and other assortments of “elimination” strategies that are both manageable and legal (185–86). I need not emphasize the offensiveness of many of these metaphors, which are obviously unacceptable to just about all working individuals and not only to professionally more selfconscious academics. But they do indicate a problem that an aging nation and profession cannot avoid, the high cost of retaining senior employees. Ironically, however, because the pool of qualified junior faculty members to replace colleagues due to retire in five to ten years is widely predicted to be far from large enough, retention of senior faculty members may well become an option desired as much by administrations as by many of those facing retirement. For several years now, some university administrations have been preparing for the anticipated generational shift by gradually adjusting their hiring patterns to achieve a more balanced demographic composition in some of their older units. But, at least for a transition period, it may be necessary to compensate for an insufficient supply of junior faculty members by relying on retirement-age colleagues. Instead of simply extending their tenure, personnel departments will have to devise flexible one- or two-year contracts that are renewable by mutual consent. And while this trend might be construed as beneficial to future retirees, the broadening of their options in no way diminishes the need for proper planning.
Responsible and responsive departments have made it a habit to place new faculty members under the wings of senior mentors. Traditionally, through annual evaluations and private discussions, department administrators follow a carefully devised tracking strategy to assist junior colleagues in overcoming the many hurdles that they face before coming up for tenure and promotion. Conversely, the most senior faculty members should also be part of a tracking program that might involve several suitable colleagues and appropriate administrators. Let me briefly describe three hypothetical cases: (1) Alfred Brown, a fifty-two-year-old associate professor who makes no secret about his burnout; (2) Joseph Marsh, a sixty-one-year-old full professor whose excellent and still active research record is not matched by student interest; and (3) Kathleen Minolta, a sixty-seven-year-old full professor who remains much sought after by highly competent graduate students but who is worried about her health problems. To simplify our test cases, let's also assume that all three faculty members have spent twenty years or more in their academic careers.
Obviously Alfred Brown is the most extreme example, because of the relatively young age at which even early retirement is discussed. And yet, the associate professor's repeated allusions to classroom burnout appear clearly linked to his lack of a coherent and productive research program. If he has not been properly advised about his role and function in the department, a thorough assessment should take place immediately. A realistic but nevertheless ambitious context for his future activities should be defined. If his self-proclaimed burnout seems curable within his newly defined context, a retooling program may be in order. Under the best of circumstances, he might become promotable after a significant turnaround. Toward this end a chair might reassign curricular responsibilities within the department and encourage a rigorously defined research program. Gentle persuasion and well-founded advice, regularly repeated, can do and have done wonders in situations that seem or seemed intractable. If, on the other hand, the individual seems neither willing nor able to overcome his burnout, which he might be compensating for by time-consuming outside activities, he should be advised that it is in his as well as the department's interest to face the reality that he cannot go on in the same way for another decade or two. Possibly, one of his outside interests can lead to a second career, which he is still young enough to undertake. Since, according to our assumption, he is vested for his twenty years or more in at least one pension fund, he should plan to retire as soon as his institution's plan allows this option and then engage in a second career. The transition period can be phased appropriately to shield him from an unacceptable loss of income. There is, of course, always the possibility of the worst-case scenario: the degree of his burnout prohibits any rekindling of his ambition, and he simply lets himself go. Both he and the department are then stuck with a long-range dilemma that may well be irremediable.
Joseph Marsh's situation, the second example, may seem easier, but it potentially poses as many problems as Brown's, perhaps even more. Our sixty-one-year-old full professor, who has an international reputation in his field, is working on his sixth book, which is under contract to a prestigious university press. While he is at the proverbial cutting edge of his specialty, the demand for his courses has been shrinking to the point where most of them have to be cancelled with irritating regularity, despite the appeals to, not to say the arm twisting of, graduate students. Unfortunately, this situation cannot be corrected by the most obvious method, having Marsh teach more survey, general education, or honors courses, let alone language classes. His student evaluations are notoriously bad, the word has got around, and students will do anything they can to avoid his classes. Again, a gentle but objective assessment of his function and future in the department is called for. It turns out that the downtrend in which his field is caught reflects a national situation and an improvement cannot be expected for a long time. He is one year away from the moment at which, in his university's phased-retirement program, he can still exercise that option. Obviously, a most thorough assessment of his finances must precede any such consideration. Not infrequently, when individuals at his stage of their careers project their financial situation on early retirement (if necessary seeking professional assistance), they are surprised at the desirable standard of living and the peace of mind they will be able to maintain. For our hypothetical Joseph Marsh, writing two or three more books and giving invited lectures or seminars at his leisure might be more desirable than continuing a somewhat contrived teaching career. On the other hand, he might decide to wait, say, four more years because by then, having vested a full thirty years in the system, he will be eligible not only for social security but also for his full pension.
In both examples, the important factor is not the suggestion, let alone the attempted imposition, of a particular game plan at a particular time. Rather, it is the frank assessment of the professional present and intermediate future at a stage when most options are still discussable, albeit not always implementable. Especially when health questions are involved, the prospect of quality retirement time cannot be overlooked. Delicate as they may be, these questions must be raised, and raised periodically, by chairs, associates, and friends of preretirees.
The third example has less negative connotations because Kathleen Minolta, the sixty-seven-year-old full professor, poses a pleasant problem, though a problem nevertheless. A magnet for high-quality prospective graduate students, she still directs many dissertations, and her seminars, which she conducts with an expertise matched only by her enthusiasm, remain as popular as ever. But her failing health has already led to two cancellations of one of her key graduate courses; she was too exhausted by the demands of two undergraduate courses, which are part of her standard teaching load and of a cycle that cannot be interrupted without jeopardizing many students' graduation schedules. Unfortunately, her financial situation is such that she cannot comfortably retire for another three years. The unusual aspect of this situation, of course, is that it is not her motivation, her currency in the field, or the department's genuine interest in her that is in question; her health looms as the only serious obstacle to an otherwise splendid ending of a remarkable career. Since for many years she has carried a regular load of two courses a semester and directed nearly twice as many dissertations as most of her colleagues have, and since without a reduction in her work assignments she would have to retire against her and the department's will, a compromise is worked out that meets the approval of the faculty and the graduate students. For the next three years her two undergraduate classes will be taken over by two colleagues, one of whom is an early retiree poised to teach a similar class anyway. The other colleague will teach her literature survey course and yield in turn one of his language classes to a graduate teaching associate. Minolta's own class will meet in a three-hour block on the day and at the time she chooses. Thus our sixty-seven-year-old colleague will teach one graduate course or seminar a semester in each year remaining before her retirement. She has also arranged to meet at her home with the graduate students whose dissertations she supervises, to spare her tiring trips to the office.
As I indicated at the beginning, I emphasize the human aspects involved in each retirement problem and try to balance them, whenever possible, with instructional and other institutional needs and guidelines. Hypothetical as they are, my three examples nevertheless contain symptomatic components that can be found on almost every campus. I readily concede that the handling of such cases depends heavily on the institution's flexibility about personnel and finances. But in all real situations an honest attempt must be made to strike a modicum of balance between the conflicting interests of affected constituencies and individuals.
Finally, the Human Resource Office (or its equivalent) on each campus should offer a preretirement planning service to begin at least eighteen months before an individual's retirement date. Many such offices automatically distribute a publication containing (1) a list of all available university benefits, (2) a more detailed introduction to retirement benefits and the procedures for obtaining them, (3) a clear survey of social security benefits and the fiscal consequences of starting or delaying them, (4) a survey of realistic scenarios suggesting how prospective retirees can plan for their intermediate and longer-ranged financial future, and (5) dates of periodically offered preretirement seminars on fiscal and estate planning.
My last point requires far less discussion, but not because it is a frivolous one. On the contrary, some pomp and circumstance, it seems to me, are as much in order for retiring colleagues, who have spent their working lives on campus, as for new graduates poised to espouse their careers. Once again, such matters must be handled with circumspection. If a colleague despises public parading, a private dinner party with selected friends might be appropriate. Obviously neither pomp nor circumstance will be imposed on somebody who wishes to fade quietly into the background. But I assure you that more senior colleagues have been hurt by a lack of attention than by an overabundance. The arrangements for such festivities are best left to friends and confidants and should take place in at least two theaters: in the more private and social surrounding of the department and, if there is such a tradition, in the more public arena of the college or the university. For several years, for example, our College of Liberal Arts and Sciences has organized a so-called baccalaureate exercise before the regular commencement ceremony. It is a well-choreographed occasion, short but festive, that always places students, their parents, and the faculty at the center of attention. A mixture of brief valedictorian and official speeches, interspersed with choral music, the baccalaureate is orchestrated in such a manner that its high point is the reading of honors citing special achievements by students and faculty members alike. The most important honorees are always retiring faculty members, who receive, for the occasion, special chairs with the college seal. During the entire baccalaureate exercise, they sit on their chairs on the podium, thus receiving a meaningful public accolade from the very body with which they have served for so long.
Many smaller gestures are often equally appreciated because of their personal note, such as several private luncheons spread over a number of months before the retirement date. If such gatherings include the discussion of current or future research projects, they will be especially helpful. As long as these get-togethers are arranged with genuine understanding and without condescension, they will no doubt give the retiree a true sense of continued belonging.
But beyond the rituals, there must be more sustained actions that give the retiree a feeling of continuation rather than of mere preparation for the final break. On most campuses it is standard for a retiree to maintain such rights as full library and parking privileges. Traditionally, too, the retiree is promoted to the rank of professor emeritus or emerita and invited to continue the direction of dissertations undertaken before retirement. Emeriti cannot take on new dissertations, but they may be able to serve on new supervisory committees. While some take long trips and stay away from campus for a while, others soon start making frequent visits to their department. It goes without saying that retired colleagues should be invited and encouraged to attend all the academic functions and events of the department, the college, and the university. Talking with them and, especially, taking the time for occasional meals with them are far more than nice gestures. But the most intractable problem that departments face when dealing with retirees, especially in this age of high expectations and small resources, is the space problem. Every effort must be made to let them have offices, preferably not too far from their former colleagues. Under ideal circumstances, they would keep their old offices. These days, however, it is increasingly difficult to allow this, because of the severe shortage of space on most campuses. It is not fair to ask younger colleagues with children to share offices while the emeriti continue to have sole-occupant offices. Most retirees are gracious enough to yield their offices voluntarily. Conversely, the university should be gracious enough to set aside, in each major office building, a room or two for retirees to share. If departments have the authority to reshuffle offices internally, they should make every effort to work along similar lines. Thus, two retirees could share an office formerly shared by younger colleagues, who would obtain long-awaited private offices through this exchange.
Yes, there can be retirement with grace and dignity as long as colleagues and the administration provide a healthy amount of these qualities. Above all, planning, but especially fiscal planning, cannot begin early enough. As the time for varied retirement scenarios approaches, no later than five years before full retirement benefits become available and two years before the earliest date for phased-retirement plans (if these are offered), senior faculty members should receive pertinent information at least once a year as a matter of course. But the concerned intervention and assistance of colleagues and chairs are equally important and must be timed and executed adequately by everyone involved. While each real case deserves individual attention and solutions, this brief description of possible strategies, I hope, can clarify some of the more delicate issues and their handling. Personal problems caught in the web of institutional priorities call for sustained attention governed by pragmatics that are as concerned as they are informed.
The author is Professor of French and Chair of the Department of RomanceLanguages and Literatures at the University of Florida, Gainesville. Thisarticle is based on a paper presented at the MLA Convention, 27–30December 1988, in New Orleans.
Rosen, Benson, and Thomas H. Jerdee. Older Employees: New Roles for Valued Resources. Homewood: Dow Jones-Irwin, 1985.
© 1989 by the Association of Departments of Foreign Languages. All Rights Reserved.
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