Why I Went Back to Work

In 2002, I officially retired from my teaching position at the University of Illinois at Chicago. I was giddy with relief. My first book had been accepted for publication and the administrative side of my position—running the undergrad and grad internship program had turned into a nightmare. The new head of the English Department had put me on notice that an internship program had no place in UIC’s English Department. Using the annual state budget as an excuse, he cancelled the internship program.

I was summoned to his office where he explained that he felt bad having to do me this because my son had been his student at Johns Hopkins University. Wow, that was harsh. I sat listening, seething with anger. He wasn’t sorry because I’d spent seven years building a program to include grad students. Finding and finessing internships at prestigious places like Chicago Shakespeare Theater, the American Medical Association, and the American Bar Association. Many grad students went on to be hired at these organizations. I thought I was doing a great job.

He leaned back in his cushy chair, steepled his fingers and said, “I have no idea what your educational background is. But I’m sure you could apply for a comp class or something like that.”

I was done with institutional full time work. I retired early and went home to be a full time writer and part time editor.

Flash forward eight years and two books to 2010. I’m back at work. What changed? For all the baby boomers on the brink of retirement, the answer to that question may disturb you or not, depending on your relationship with work and self. I missed the sense of purpose, I missed the paycheck, I missed the camaraderie, and I even missed catching the commuter train to and from Chicago. But even more than that, I discovered I needed to work. Blame my depression era parents who insisted I start working at age 15—in my house those who worked were afforded a special status--or that my grandkids live far away, or that my husband and friends still work. But I just couldn’t stand being home anymore, even though I volunteered one day a week and was still writing. I need the adrenaline rush of work.

So this summer, I contacted the Director of Creative Writer at Roosevelt University and asked if there were any classes he’d like me to teach. I’d briefly taught there once. He hired me to teach Intro to Creative Writing. There are 34 students in my class, on any given Wednesday, plus a grad student I’m mentoring. It’s an amazing challenge managing a writing class of 34 fledging writers. And to be honest, there are times I wonder if this was a good decision to go back to work, especially when I’m plodding through 34 student pieces. Also, I’m discovering the divide between this generation and my generation is vast. Without doubt the class is too large for a creative writing class. But this is the new working environment post-recession. Workers are being asked to do more, work longer hours, just to hold on to their jobs.

For now I like the challenge. So that’s why I haven’t blogged lately. I’ve been teaching 34 students how to enthrall an audience with their words. I’ll still be contributing to the blog on occasion. But for now, I’m just another working stiff.