"Refreshing," "regenerating," "reinvigorating"— all terms commonly used by faculty who have recently returned from sabbaticals when they are asked to describe the effects of sabbatical leave. The term sabbatical comes from the Hebrew word for the seventh day, a day of rest—and in this case, refers to a faculty member’s release from regular teaching responsibilities every seventh year of academic life. But unlike a vacation, the leave time is expected to be academically and professionally purposeful, usually set aside for research and writing and, perhaps, travel in support of those activities.

We all need a break. But, you may say, don’t teachers already get their summers off? Doesn’t that provide plenty of time to rest up and catch up on one’s reading? Well, yes…and also time to prep new courses planned for the coming school year, and write up some research, and perhaps teach some summer school...advise a few students, and maybe even get in a family vacation, a few hikes and a trip to the fair. These seasonal breaks are highly prized aspects of our academic lives. So why the need for additional "time off?" What’s in it for the university that pays faculty to take a break from teaching?

Alaska Pacific University places the quality of its students’ education as the first priority. As an institution it invests much in the recruitment and hire of new, promising faculty who will stimulate the kind of active learning that attracts and nurtures good students. It only makes sense that the university continues to prize and develop the talents of those teachers.

The sabbatical provides a change from the routine in a very different and much more intense way. It allows the recipient of the leave to redirect intellectual and physical energies towards development, not just maintenance.

APU faculty members are not automatically awarded sabbaticals, but are eligible to apply every seventh year. Each applicant prepares a detailed plan about how the time will be invested and for what purposes.

Colleagues on the Faculty Review Committee review each year’s group of applications and make recommendations to the administration. The university offers two options for how it structures the leave: we may apply for a full year’s leave, receiving half salary for the 12 months, or for a semester’s leave at full salary. At the end of the leave, the faculty member is expected to share the results of study and research in the form of published writings, public presentations, and informal conversations—all demonstrating ourselves to be invigorated and more developed in the areas of interest laid out in our individual plans. Probably the more important benefits to the university community are intangible but recognizable: our colleagues upon their return seem more energetic and more serene simultaneously; invigorated by the development of interests in the areas laid out in their individual plans and yet seemingly restored to some more essential, less schedule-driven version of themselves.

The changes come slowly. The first day of the January block two years ago marked the official start of my own sabbatical leave. When I settled down in front of the computer at home that morning instead of heading out into the snow for campus, my internal motor was still running pretty rich; I hadn’t really geared down yet from the frenzy of the holidays and the end of fall semester. I wanted every minute to count…double time. I plunged into one writing project, caught up on family visits, and flew off with my husband for a fine vacation week in Florence. But the transforming heart of the sabbatical experience was the five weeks spent in a residential library in the northeastern corner of Wales.

The setting was perfect for research in my field of medieval English lit because some of the most important pieces that survive were written within a shire or two of that spot, and I was looking forward to the sheer aesthetic pleasure of rereading those texts, in their home geographical context. But it wasn’t primarily for that reason I’d come to St. Deiniol’s. What I’d really wanted was a remote site, for real retreat. I’d been working on a manuscript for a long while and wanted a place where I could work steadily, without interruption for, say, eight hours a day and then stretch my legs and spirit with regular walks in the countryside; where I could practice on the organ each afternoon, roam the stacks of the fine Gladstone Library down the hall, and yet be able to check on children by email from my room; and, especially, I wanted a place where someone else would do the cooking, serve it up in the company of an interesting assembly of scholars from around the world, and bring me fresh linens on Monday. I got all of that and more, and I don’t think there’s been another period in my life where I felt more productive or more alive intellectually.

What, then, did APU "get" for its investment of a semester’s paid leave upon my return in the fall? An instructor with 25 years’ teaching experience, who walked back into the classroom with a brisker step and more enthusiasm than any time since graduate school, my love affair with the humanities deepened and my conviction about their value rekindled: how could I not be eager to ignite similar passions in my students? Into my writing classes I brought humility and a keener eye, both fostered by renewed submission to the demands of the craft. And the gratitude I felt then continues to resonate two years later in feelings of loyalty to an institution that values its faculty and pride in the education that faculty delivers. This is one human resource who is appreciative of having been "developed" into a fuller human being.

Dr. Marilyn Barry