On Sabbaticals - Reflections on Scholars Past

Why was a sabbatical the answer to my career quandary? I participated in a sabbatical as a 22 year old assistant to a late-career professor. My professor's circumstances were different from my own, but some fundamental motivations were likely the same. Reflecting on this "random internship" has revealed how its influence still guides me today.

The 'Sacred' Tradition

For professors, the sabbatical is a celebrated, sacred tradition - a capstone of one's career. Sabbaticals signal status for (typically) tenured individuals with a bounty of publications, years spent teaching and advising students, and numerous research projects. But, the ideal academic career can leave gaps in satisfaction. There's a difference between fundable projects and aspirational dreams. Sabbaticals are passion projects which allow their takers to return to the fascinations of youth or emerging topics that are a little too weird to attract serious grant money.

Despite their sacred status, sabbaticals are difficult to take. The person must take risks, say no, defy employer expectations, and potentially lose out on opportunity for work and funding. Even when encouraged on paper, it takes courage to push through the grind.

Chasing Bugs on Whidbey Island

My entomology professor was so passionate about insects that he shook with excitement during lectures. His voice grew loud, eyes wide, and hands furiously miming his descriptions. He speed walked through the hallways and never sat down unless absolutely necessary. I'll skip the backstory, but I agreed to move across the country to a little island in the Pacific Northwest to assist with his sabbatical research.

I was put to work within hours of my arrival on Whidbey Island, Washington. I had daily "chores" like farm work to check various traps around the field station. The most disgusting chore was digging up dead animals buried in shallow graves for me to collect from. I endured by pretending to be in a crime drama. "Send in the forensic entomologist!" Large paper maps with red circles guided my collection routes along with instructions about the targets, strategy, and equipment. The hunt was on, and it forced me to travel to remote locations, often alone.

My professor was character. In one swift movement, he would slam on the breaks, pull over the car, and jump out with binoculars to view a rare bird. We drove up to a cliff-side and he pulled out his binoculars again, although this time pointing down. "What are you looking at?" I asked. "Oh, I'm just curious what bait and tackle the locals are using. Do you see those fishermen down there?" He replied. (We were spying on the townies and their fishing gear.) On one trip, I was attacked by a nest of hornets. Fortunately, I was wearing a hat, but I could feel the thump of the hornets repeatedly dive-bombing my head. In a flash, he whipped out his net and in three quick swipes, caught the entire nest of hornets and placed them in a kill jar. Entomologists are ninjas.

Sabbaticals are not vacations. After physically demanding days, we spent the evenings in the lab hunched over dissection microscopes. It was my job to curate the specimens, pinning and gluing to museum-quality finish. I assisted, but it was my professor who worked through taxonomic keys, requiring acute attention to detail. I'd say goodnight, and he was still at the microscope, scratching notes on his pad.

My ecology lessons never ended. I was always a student, soaking up a lifetime of knowledge. He gave some career advice, but he mostly listened to my 22 year old ramblings about the next phases of my education and work. He sensed that my path would not be linear. I had much to figure out once I left the island.

A Cynic's Take on Sabbaticals

In Nassim Teleb's seminal book, Black Swan, he describes the need for a break (or many) after enduring the harsh life of a Wall Street trader. This quote comes after recalling an event where he was nearly strangled by a colleague after delivering unfavorable news.

" [I want to] organize myself to do minimal but intense work, focus only on the most technical aspects, never attend business "meetings," avoid the company of "achievers" and people in suits who don't read books, and take a sabbatical year for every three on average to fill up gaps in my scientific & philosophical culture. To slowly distill my singular idea, I want to become a flaneur, a professional meditator, sit in cafes, lounge, unglued to desks & organization structures, sleep as long as I needed, read voraciously, and not owe any explanation to anybody. I want to be left alone in order to build, small steps at a time, an entire system of thought based on my Black Swan idea." --Nassim Teleb, Black Swan

This quote describes a person in survival mode, needing a break from the bullshit. His ideas are present before the sabbatical, but too difficult to execute while maintaining a tough exterior. For Teleb, the sabbatical is not merely a break, but an igniting force for both technical work and creative expression. Fittingly, this passage appears in a section entitled, "Four Letter Word of Independence," and Teleb is not hesitant to use f-bombs in his writing. Teleb is not cashing in on a sacred tradition, but rather, defying expectation of employer and field. It takes that attitude of defiance to get his life's work accomplished.

My professor never spoke poorly of his employer, but I suspect that he could relate to Teleb's raw description. It's the sabbatical, not the daily grind that lead some to their pinnacle achievements. The sabbatical research on Whidbey Island was a crowning moment. Teleb wrote a best selling book that has influenced a generation of disruptive thinkers, opening a new career path for himself and many more book deals.

Advice From Mentors

Now leading a sabbatical effort myself, I recognize the importance of mentorship. I've organized calls with trusted advisors, and I'd like to part with some of their words. This list reveals a lot about the things I struggle with including self doubt, credential envy, balance, and overwork. With all of this good advice and mentorship both past and present, I'm taking a risk and hoping to accomplish some great work in my sabbatical.

• Don't worry so much about writing the perfect article. Just keep putting material out there. It will get better as you go.
• Work less. Think harder.
• Burnout is a real risk with sabbaticals.
• Don't attempt to boil the entire ocean.
• Find balance with fun activities and self improvement outside of work.
• Don't forget to eat well, exercise, and spend time with your family.
• The notifications will drive you crazy. Maybe it's best to silence them.
• Build your own board of directors to compliment your strengths and weaknesses.
• Trust your skills. You will always have gaps, but you don't need to pursue every last certification to prove yourself. Put out good quality work and it will speak for itself.
• It's really hard to work for someone else after being on sabbatical. Be prepared for the culture shock once it's over.
• You have a great network. Lean into it.