Well. It’s official. I’m actually on sabbatical now, my first in seven years, a full year. It is an unbelievable privilege of my tenured position that I am able to apply for these periodical paid (85% salary) leaves, and devote time to my research.
I have been looking forward to this sabbatical ever since I learned I would have to forego my earned half-year sabbatical when I became grad chair in 2014. I knew the reward would be that I could accrue enough credits to qualify for the full year, which I probably wouldn’t have had the patience for, otherwise. I looked forward to it as a distant mirage, where my time was my own, where there wouldn’t be so many emails, so many meetings, so much grading, so much teaching. I was basically picturing my year long sabbatical as a dramatic arm sweep that would throw everything off all my desks onto the floor, another gesture ripping the phone cord out of the wall, then tapping out the Nuclear Option away message on my email.
I had, that is, a fundamentally negative view of my long dreamed of sabbatical: things would disappear, things would stop.
But a sabbatical is for something, as much as it is about against other things–it is for research, and I had plenty of that backlogged and untended.
I both longed for the chance to hit the reset button on my campus life that the sabbatical represented, at the same time as I dreaded thinking about accomplishing a Year of Distraction and Excuse Free Writing That Would Make Me Seem Productive and Valuable As A Scholar. Yeah, I think with initial caps about the things that scare me.
I’m going to write, this year, about how I am learning to write on sabbatical. I’ll let you know what it’s like, adjusting to not being on campus, finding my rhythm, saying no to things that aren’t research related, dealing with loneliness maybe, preparing for reentry, finding a way to end on a good note. I hope this will help others who might not be sure what the “right” way to do a sabbatical is. So it will be pitched to faculty, sure, but it strikes me this year I have–a year where I have one book contract to fulfill for sure, and god help me, quite probably another one, too–is a lot like where graduate students land after their proposal pass. Sabbatical is a lot like ABD, all huge expectations, no structure, isolation, and a great big fear of not being able to live up to it.
For now I’ll tell you some early highlights, that I am going to take up in posts this year:
- full blown meltdown on January 1, the day the sabbatical started
- spending the six months pre-sabbatical clearing the emotional, mental, and practical decks
- how much it is possible, and not possible, to write in one day
- you can’t make up for lost time, and trying makes you miserable
- how to turn a year into a big picture plan
- how to turn that big picture plan into a series of monthly, weekly, and daily plans
- all the things I’m saying “no” to–and how easy it’s turning out to be
- all the naps I’m saying “yes” to–and why that’s a good thing
- you can’t do this alone: mad props to my squad, and all they do
Me, I got cold feet the very day I handed in all my Fall grades and concluded my on-campus responsibilities until, ulp, January 2019. This sabbatical is already terrifying, and restful, and busy, and laid-back by turns. Let’s see how this turns out!