Last week I was feeling clapped out at the end of a long school term. Most teachers would have been feeling the same, but we expect no sympathy, for anyone in full-time employment would trade places with us for the prospect of a six week holiday. Anyway, back to me; my head was full and my brain was crying out for extra pockets. It is always thus before we ‘break’ for summer, but this year I am feeling very aware that my teacher peer group are retiring and will not reappear to face the educational fray with me in September. I listen to the leaving speeches of two colleagues and hear them being clapped out of school in the most positive sense – a well-deserved resounding applause for their tireless support of young people. My two colleagues look very happy indeed – rejuvenated – not limping off into the sunset in need of a rest.

Lately I have been in denial about retirement. I have always worked full time and I am concerned that I may miss the structure of a working day even more than the money. ‘Anyway, why would I want to re–tire myself when I am sufficiently tired already?’ I ask Himself – a chap who is becoming increasingly excited about his own imminent rejuvenation.

‘You view retirement as fading,’ he notes. ‘The word originates from the French, and I can tell you that in the military we were often more than happy to ‘retire’ from danger so that we could regroup and plan the next campaign from the comfort of some sanctuary. Personally, I have absolutely no intention of retiring, I am just giving notice that I will be funding future exploits through a well earned pension pot. Why should ‘retiring’ be viewed as unambitious? If you feel the need to justify your protestant work ethic, perhaps you could tell people that you are taking on a new role as a Life Flexer?’

He has a point. Speaking to both my retiring colleagues after their goodbye speeches, I realise that their respective excitement means that they are unlikely to look back over their shoulder with regret at a closed classroom door or pine for their Teacher Planner. There will be scant chance of getting these two back in for some supply teaching – not because they hate students, but because they are both life long learners and want to feed their own curiosity (or curiosities…) outside the classroom.

I say curiosities for one of these colleagues is still buzzing from the retirement present gifted to him from his Faculty. Renowned for being a giddy kipper on various school trips over the years (there is nothing retiring about this man’s character; I still blush when I recall his bartering skills on a Sixth Form trip to a Kenyan market) the Business Faculty surprise him by covering all his lessons and buying him a return day trip to Amsterdam. There, dressed in a ‘Where’s Wally’ outfit, he completes a 24 hour scavenger hunt, incentivised by the Profit & Loss threat of having to buy all the drinks in the pub on his return if fails to provide photographic evidence of himself beside every item on that list. I believe that the pilot on the KLM return flight is already booked in for a round of golf next time he has a stop over in Bristol – that is, if Wally can spare the time before he jets off somewhere else.

With this positive approach to ‘refiring’ I thank the Government for their moving target of pensionable age. If I hold out to 65 as an achievable goal, I can start booking in some adventures for this notional date, while flexing myself to project manage myself around the reality of a bus pass not arriving until I am 67. It will be an adventure and I can thank the Government for keeping me at the top of my game.

The friends I have outside teaching – those who professed they were retiring a few years back – have all been tempted back in to consultancy work or self employment, not for the money or because they were bored, but on account of their sheer brilliance. They now write their own contracts – ensuring that any paid work dances to their tune and fits in around cold water swimming, foreign treks and Salsa classes. They are living the dream in an energetic and unbeige-like fashion instead of booking in the purple rinse of my parent’s generation.

In retirement prep I book an appointment with my Financial advisor who points out that every time we meet I am becoming more risk adverse; annoyingly he notes that I keep moving my retirement date further into the future. ‘I just like to see the money coming in, ‘ I tell him, ‘ with too much free time I may become even more expensive to run and none of your fiscal forecasts seem to cater for a 60+ woman with a Zahra and caffeine addiction…and then there is my Waitrose habit. Oh, and I do actually like my work so there is still some tread left on my tyres.’ (Apologies, shameless milking of retyrement). ‘Then I shall introduce you to my successor,’ he sighs, ‘for I am retiring at the end of the financial year. I have enrolled on a theatrical course’.

In some schools, when Year 11 leave site for the very last time, all the other students line up and cheer them off, giving them an upbeat send off into their future. Without getting too political, I realise that these students may not get the opportunity to retire before they are 70, so perhaps I should embrace my age and my pension pot and take my standing ovation – or at least a slow hand clap. We can discuss refirement again when I have the energy to engage. In the meantime, I give due notice that I will be retiring from education for six weeks and hope to bounce back in September. Although my body may be working against me, I sense I may not be totally clapped out just yet.