Know what I had a 20-minute phone conversation about yesterday? Retirement. The first time I’ve ever really spoken openly, seriously, and at length about it — and with an STRS rep, no less.
My retirement date: May, 2020. Eight and a half years from now. I could have done it September of 2019, but that would mean I’d have to report for the first week of classes, then exit stage left. Not doing that to the kids. But unless I get a wild hair and decide to stick it out to age 65, that’s when I’m calling it quits, and I feel good about it.
It’s not that I want to quit teaching so I can sit at home. I will still need to work, since it’ll be an “early” retirement (I didn’t start teaching until I was 34). But I can just about guarantee that “work” won’t involve 70-hour weeks of choreography, rehearsals, and two mainstage shows a year. Maybe I’ll sell cakes, write down those arrangements banging around in my head, and work part time in an office. The goal is to supplement my meager retirement income, but not buy the farm in the process. There’s Grammie-in’ to be done in those years, too. And traveling, and hanging out with friends and fam. The important stuff. I know I’ll never really stop working, but I don’t want to run myself into an early grave doing it.
So there it is. May 2020. We’re in the single digits, fiends. I plan to go out with a bang, so stay tuned.