Mature wine uncorked: a retirement monologue

It was midweek in our pentateuchal reflection on Madiba’s eventful completion of a vivaciously celebrated life, and while writing of what I thought it must be to embody in one’s being the challenge of the times to effect radical change on the question of what it means to be human, the law office of Shenyang Aerospace University’s International Education College dropped a bomb we had anticipated but did not think was going to come so soon and so suddenly. I am now in the middle of a very radical and rapid change.

One of the teachers from New York who spent half of his adult life in Hawaii is fond of saying, “As long as Jaime is here, I am safe.” Liaoning province in China, who owns and runs our university, has an existing rule in the books not to employ any foreigner over 65. They had been ignoring that for the last three years in our case but this year, as the reform ethos around the whole country gets pushed, public entities are urged to operate strictly by the book. My colleague is a year my junior; I chimed 68 last August.

I am, ironically, a casualty of a policy that I support. Implementing existing rules, published or unfamiliar, is not one of China’s forte, and it would be nice for that to change. There are many good rules and statutes in the books that we wish were implemented even if it is just the highly publicized ones like the one that forbids honking of motor vehicle horns in campus, or minding once vehicular speed when driving around school roadways.

In a country where the retirement age of 55 for women and 60 for men qualifies for superannuation, it finds the age of 65 a rather mature one. The rule not to hire above 65 has even got tighter. It is now down to 60, the same as the locals. The rule is there to enable elders to spend more time with grandchildren and voluntary interests.

“We took your case all the way up to the Provincial Committee, with even the college dean making an appearance and impassioned appeal on your behalf,” the attorney ruefully intoned, “to no favorable consequence, for the Foreign Affairs is adamant that a rule is a rule, and unless it is amended or changed, it must be applied universally across the board.” 

This came about while the school was applying for my working visa, after the school and I already signed next year’s contract, after the faculty liaison officer already bought and let me utilize a roundtrip air ticket I normally use during the spring break at the end of my contract year but I used to visit my mother in the hospital in October, and after the financial officer already designated and set aside my salary for the next contract year.

Also, I do not feel, think, or act retired, and given the illusory youth of my Asian physique, I do not even look retire-able. But formally retiring is what I ended up doing, not only to save “face” from the appearance of being refused employment but also to keep the school from looking like they ignored a rule and is now compelled to enforce it!

It is the season when the authentically possible is incarnate and birthed (my Christmas story), so the question I need to answer is, what does the situation require, and do I have a role still to play in it? By the attorney’s account, the school officials who went up to bat for me did so on the gathered information that students were pleased with our classroom management and are learning from our pedagogy. Unfortunately, that does not count when faced with the power of bureaucratic resolve. Individual cases do not merit exceptions to a rule, a principle I do not normally disagree with, but have been known to ignore in practice.

Now, is this worth writing about, and is the faithful readers’ patience worth taxing? Probably not. For what we write out loud would be relevant were my issue with retirement be like those of my fellow elders in the Commonwealth who had recently been impinged upon on their bank balances by less than 25 percent of normal. Ours is simply recognizing that, perhaps, it is time to cease wading our brittle bones through the winter snow to get to a classroom.

The SVES principal at the time I left PSS to deal with my cervical pain suggested that I consider medical retirement. I looked into it (thanks Kinai). The CNMI was already in default in its share to my retirement credit so I took my contributions to pay for medical attention, and also let PSS call my withdrawal from service. I did apply to return but a colleague at HR was candid enough to blurt out: “Jaime, in our tight situation, we can hire two and a half entry levels for what we have to pay you.”

Right now, I hang on to my father’s words. “Retirement,” he once wisely said, “is simply replacing the old tires with new ones.” So we are technically retiring from the employed rolls of teachers at the university, but we are gearing up with new tires ready to bolt into the productive frame!

Given the state of our health (still good!), we will endeavor to face the question: What is required in the world of effective pedagogy, and do I still have anything to contribute into it? When I have an answer, I will let you know.