I just retired from my position as a full-time history professor. Between the normal end of semester hectic pace and some additional hullabaloo, I haven’t had much time to reflect on how I’m feeling about all this. Now I do have time!

Many have said they envy me and wish they could retire. I get it. This is a tough job. There are definitely some things I won’t miss.

What I Won’t Miss

The stress
It wears you down over time. We know it’s not good for our health. Stress comes from many aspects of teaching along with the other aspects of being a faculty member.

Long hours and time pressure to be prepared
Sure, some of this is my fault for wanting every class meeting to be fantastic, but a lot of it isn’t. Like most professions, there’s just a lot of work to complete. The pace is relentless.

Pressure to publish
I really like conducting research and writing about historical topics that interest me. But the expectation of regular publication is stressful. For an introvert with performance anxiety like me, the expectation of presenting at conferences was even worse.

Short summers
I was always grateful for the two months when the pace was slower, my time more flexible, my work day shorter, and I could work in shorts and a t-shirt. But in terms of having enough time to both make progress on scholarly projects and plan fall courses, and then trying to fit in some time to recharge, summers passed quickly. (And of course many people assumed that professors don’t work at all in the summer, which was a small annoyance.)

Performance anxiety
There’s a group of people (who paid a lot of money) who I’m standing in front of who I’m trying to engage in the material and persuade that it’s important. Especially at the beginning of the semester, when students were strangers, I felt almost physically sick with nerves.

Meetings
I could very happily not sit in a meeting again, ever – whether that be a university faculty meeting, committee meeting, department meeting, you name it. This is despite my being someone who believes in the value of faculty governance and service. I have been satisfied by doing work that improves the functioning of the university; I have enjoyed meeting colleagues from across campus on committees whose agenda matters to me. But I’m just meetinged out.

Know-it-alls
Academics who speak up at conferences or meetings who act as though they are asking a question but really just want everyone to see how smart they are.

Worrying about students
I worried about those who disappear due to illness or crises, those who are behaving in inappropriate ways during class, those who are upset about their grades.

Assessing student work – so much to dislike:

1. It’s an emotionally loaded task. Students often confuse the assessment of their work with an evaluation of their own worth or potential (or fear one average grade will destroy their own future), so they may be depressed, demoralized, or angry when they receive what they perceive as a low grade. I didn’t like knowing that and dreaded the conversations that came afterwards.
2. Reading the first 6 essays was interesting, but after that, yuck.
3. When a big chunk of students didn’t understand important concepts, I felt annoyed or like a failure.
4. And even when I was simply giving feedback – not a grade – reading history essays is difficult because it requires so much time and concentration. I do know all about rubrics and not writing too many comments, but I still hated the process. 

The emails
So many emails sucking so much time: need I say more?

Why the Time is Right for Me to Retire

The current climate is heart-breaking. Higher education is under attack from the Trump administration. The humanities have been underappreciated for a while, but now things are worse, especially for any fields in which the diversity of human experience or expression are studied. Even the sciences are now losing the grants that enable research findings that enrich the world. For reasons I don’t understand, expertise itself is under attack. 

For someone like me, who has studied inclusive teaching and who has taught courses related to African American history, disability history, women’s history, LGBTQ history, and who wants students to understand the complexity of U.S. history, it’s so discouraging. Students have continued to be interested in and appreciative of the material, but I fear the pressures from a strong-armed government and its supporters who don’t value truth and seem hell-bent on suppressing the teaching of information that makes the U.S. look bad may eventually have a chilling effect even in universities like mine.

Generative AI is revolutionizing education. I don’t think everything about AI is bad. In fact, this past year I tried to help students explore the ways it might be helpful or not, and ethical or not, in investigating and writing history. But I’m annoyed by small things like AI writing students’ emails. I want authenticity in my students. I want students who know enough and have enough skills to evaluate the use of AI. I want students who don’t always want shortcuts. After navigating other sea changes like the Internet (yes, I’m that old), laptops in the classroom, Zoom and hybrid teaching, and COVID-devastated students, I don’t have as much energy to take on another one. 

Personally, too, the time is right. It’s true that decades of experience have made me better at some aspects of the job. I know who to call when certain problems arise. I have more teaching tools at my disposal. I am more adept at handling sensitive situations with students that require communicating their responsibility for doing acceptable work while also being compassionate and supportive.

However, I’m finding that doing some aspects of the job well takes longer. My brain seems less capable of quickly switching between different tasks. I’m less patient about some matters.

As I’m leaving the job, I wish those colleagues and faculty around the U.S. the courage to be dedicated to their profession and committed to the learning of the students. I hope they realize the significance of their work and will use their expertise in a manner consistent with the high standards of academia. I hope they’ll remain true to their values. 

I hope they will find community and support in their institutions and outside the workplace. I hope they’ll take time with loved ones and leisure pursuits so they have the energy to do this challenging and important job.

Soon I’ll write about what I’ll miss about the job.