Graduating
at 90, as I did this year
with an MA from the University of Buckingham in intelligence history,
might invoke the expression “late starter”, but such things do not necessarily
happen suddenly, and are often the culmination of a long process. My higher education formally began when I was in my 60s (I
left school at 14 in 1935), as I had not previously had an opportunity to study
before my retirement and the advent of the wonderful Open University. But long
before then, first working in the Temple as a barrister’s clerk, and then
joining the wartime RAF, my eyes were opened to a broader culture than that
offered by my south-east London street. An innate curiosity and a seemingly
insatiable thirst for knowledge accounted for the rest. In short, I have come
late to formal higher education, but have lived a lifetime of learning. But how
did my decision affect me? And would I advise other retirees to do the same?
Well,
I’ve had no material gain as a result. On the strength of my BA in psychology,
there followed a volunteer job as a drugs counsellor. There were significant
disadvantages to acquiring my two undergraduate degrees – six years of constant
hard work entailing virtual obsession with the course for most of the year is
bound to affect domestic relationships. It did, but we survived – even though
the divorce rate among Open University students is rumoured to be above average.
However,
I think the spiritual and intellectual benefits far outweighed the
disadvantages.
Indeed,
I was not really looking forward to attending my first seminar, worried about
what to expect, but I needn’t have been – my fellow students (about 20 of them)
immediately put me at ease. Two nice young ladies moved apart and offered me a
chair between them. What a relief. The camaraderie between students is well
known, and it was very much in evidence here. I made many friends among them,
and they seemed to treat me no differently than any other, except for one big
Kenyan lad who insisted on calling me “sir”. Their average age was in the
mid-20s, and I am still in touch with some of them. The University of Buckingham
attracts more than its share of students from all over the world – there were
Americans, Chinese, Nigerians – and meeting them and enjoying their company was
an unexpected bonus.
The
most memorable thoughts I have of the university experience (which I sorely
miss), were the wonderful seminars, especially when my old-fashioned, non-PC
views would sometimes cause a friendly uproar among the students. I did enjoy
that.
When
asked at the time of graduation what I had hoped to achieve, my answer was to
delay the onset of senility, if it was not already too late. My more polite
friends tell me that all the studying worked, and that my faith in exercising
the mind was justified. One of the many bonuses is that documentaries and
educational broadcasts, which previously might have gone above my head, have
been transformed from boring discourses to exciting and enjoyable events –
although it can be a little disconcerting when you watch a historical programme
and realise that you were present at the events, causing you to be re-involved
more intimately and yet more objectively than when they originally occurred.
I
am not aware of any deep-seated reason for undertaking the MA. Presumably a
continuing wish to learn exists, and a chance to put it into practice presented
itself when my wife showed me an invitation from the University
of Buckingham to apply for a master’s
course on the history of intelligence with Bletchley Park studies. She said it seemed right up my
street, and that as we had recently discussed the need for a new direction –
why not take it? The relevant background was that my last job was at Hanslope
Park (I am a qualified electronics engineer), an organisation that took over
from Bletchley Park at the end of the war. These
circumstances rekindled my dormant curiosity. I applied and was accepted.
So
would I recommend a return to formal learning past retirement? Emphatically,
yes.
Source: guardian
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