As I write this in late December, I’m coming to the end of my first faculty development leave—a full semester away from teaching and formal service obligations. Like many academics taking their first sabbatical, I approached it with a mix of excitement and uncertainty. Would I actually be more productive? Would I feel guilty about stepping back? Would I know what to do with myself?

Now, four months later, I can say: it was transformative, though not always in the ways I expected.

The biggest revelation was about how time actually works. I’ve spent years believing I could be just as productive in scattered hour-long windows throughout the week. Sabbatical taught me otherwise. When I blocked out entire days—or even better, multiple consecutive days—for a single project, the quality and quantity of my output increased exponentially. There’s something about not having to mentally “reload” a project every time you sit down to it. The deep focus that comes from sustained attention is a different kind of productivity altogether.

I also discovered I’m a morning person in ways I’d never been able to fully embrace. With fewer 9am meetings or classes to prep for, I could ease into my reading and writing. Coffee, a slow start, some emails. And then, by early afternoon, I’d hit my stride. This is probably how I should have been working all along, but the structure of academic life (thanks to many meetings) rarely permits it.

What surprised me most was how much the sabbatical improved my mental health. My partner and I started going to the gym together. I worked out in a more consistent way. We took walks whenever we felt like it. The flexibility to move my body consistently did more for my overall wellbeing than I would have predicted. It turns out that the mind-body connection isn’t just a cliché.

I’m deeply grateful to my colleagues who honored the sabbatical for what it was meant to be. Almost everyone respected the boundary and refrained from asking me to serve on committees, review documents, or attend meetings “just this once.” That collective support made it possible to actually disconnect and recharge in the ways that faculty development leave is designed to enable.

2025 by the Numbers

Of course, sabbatical doesn’t mean stopping all work—it means redirecting your energy toward research, writing, and other intellectual work. As the year winds down, I thought I’d share my own “faculty wrapped” stats. Not to brag (okay, maybe a little), but mostly to document what a year focused on scholarship can actually look like:

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This year I published 1 book, 1 edited collection, 5 journal articles, 3 book chapters, 4 conference proceedings, and 4 non-peer-reviewed essays. Some of these were projects years in the making; others came together during the sabbatical itself. I still attended conferences and gave presentations (including keynotes and invite talks). I continued to work on grant funded projects and pursued new funding opportunities.

Right before the sabbatical, I taught a special topics course on Emerging Technologies & Technical Communication at the undergraduate level, and User Experience Design at the graduate level. The leave gave me time to rethink some of my pedagogical approaches for when I return to the classroom.

Even during sabbatical, student mentorship continued. I directed 1 PhD student to completion, have 5 PhD students currently in progress, serve on 10 PhD committees, and worked with 2 graduate student assistants, 2 undergraduate Mentor Tech students, and 1 student assistant.

My 2025 institutional service included department administration, 2 formal committees, 3 ad-hoc committees, 2 tenure and promotion reviews, 2 college/university committees, and participating in the faculty mentorship program. On the professional side, I held 2 organizational leadership positions, served on 5+ sub-committees, reviewed 10+ journal manuscripts, 6 book manuscripts, conducted 6 external tenure reviews, served on 6 editorial and advisory boards, and participated in countless other activities that defy categorization.

Onward!

As I prepare to return to full teaching and service in the spring, I’m trying to figure out how to preserve some of what I learned. Can I protect one full day a week for sustained writing? Can I keep up the gym routine even when my calendar fills up again? Can I remember what it felt like to work without constant interruption?

I don’t have all the answers yet. But I do know this: if you’re eligible for sabbatical and on the fence about taking it, do it. Take the leave. Protect the time. Let yourself ease into the mornings. Workout. And see what happens when you give your mind the space it’s been asking for all along.

Here’s to 2026.