Second Adolescence

A few years ago I was chatting with a man who had been a third grade teacher all his life. I knew he loved teaching, and that he was considered one of the best in our vicinity. So I was surprised when I learned he had just retired.

"I thought you loved teaching," I said, a perplexed and potentially supportive smile on my face.

He shook his head. "There's so many new regulations and paperwork we gotta do. I do love teaching, and I love the kids, but I just didn't want to learn all that new stuff."

Truthfully, I was puzzled. In the field of education there are always new regulations and lots of paperwork. Every day sees a new teaching strategy that will change the world and classrooms. Out with the old ways, in with the new. This teacher had years of experience, so he knew this cycle and had always learned the newest to add to his stockpile of tried and true teaching methods.

What had happened that he suddenly – from my perspective – didn't want to do this job anymore?

Much more recently, my brother at a doctor's visit growled at the nurse who asked him to step on the scale to check his weight. "I don't wanna do any of that," he snapped. "You already have all that information."

I asked why he was so annoyed. He couldn't answer beyond, "I didn't wanna."

I asked him to at least be polite to the nurse who was just doing her job, and suggested he change the script a little. "Try: I'm going to be non-compliant today. Write that down, and the doctor can talk to me about it if she cares."

I was reminded of the teacher and my brother when I spoke to a friend facing retirement: "I can do all that stuff that they want me to learn about," she said, then sighed. "I just don't want to."

"Oh," I replied, hearing the echo of the teacher and my sibling. "You don't wanna."

"Exactly." She sighed. "I don'twanna."

"You know who you sound like?" I asked. "You sound like a teenager. Their refrain is: I don't wanna learn math, I don't wanna come home on time, I don't wanna go shopping with my parent ever."

"Maybe," I suggested gently, "you're entering your second adolescence."

"E gad!" she erupted. "You may be right."

This article serves as warning to the rest of humanity that people in retirement are a lot like teenagers. 

I know it's horrible news, but you all out there will survive. Someday you'll be in our shoes, whether you wanna or not.   :)