It’s decided; I’m going to take a sabbatical year, unpaid. Doing this a possibility in my school system. Once every ten years, you have the possibility to take time off — from two weeks to one full year, unpaid — and more or less have your job back at the end. More or less, because I’m tenured to the county that I work in but not to the school. I could be moved elsewhere, but it’s likely that I can get my old job back as is. There’s precedent, too, with three of my colleagues having done the same thing in the last three years or so.
It seems so arrogant of me is to make plans like that. I’m planning to do something in eight months time, that is going to take a whole year of my life. Corona isn’t in its dying breaths (it’s more like The Walking Dead, where we’re all tired of the never-ending violence but it keeps coming back, season after season). I mean, how do I know I’m going to live that long?
It’s exciting, though. I can’t believe that life as offered me this opportunity. I can’t believe that I get to take a break from it all, and try to remember how to live before I die. Stop the running for a bit, stop the endless pressure I put on myself.
Money wise, it’s difficult, but I’ve been saving for this for three years. I can also rent out my apartment on a weekly basis, since I live in a place that folks like to go on vacation.
Foro, of course, will come with me. He’s excited.