[You can get the photo above by clicking on it or visiting Unsplash.com.]
When my girls were little, I helped to organize a fundraiser for one of the local daycare centers. My friend (Hi, JK!) came up with the great idea of hiring a hot-air-balloon company to give short rides. There were a lot of people eager to pay for a turn on this attraction. The balloon went up with each family of ticket holders and came back down to reload so many times. My older daughter [Hi, AEO!] observed other people's flights go up and come back down; she was so excited for our turn. She watched with glee as the giant contraption landed back on Earth to load its next passengers. Each time, she hoped it would be our turn next.
Because I was in charge, I thought it made sense for other ticket holders to go first. My plan was for my family to go last. Devastatingly to my girl, two turns before ours, the balloon operators told us that they were out of fuel. There would be no more rides that day. My poor daughter was crushed.
She raised reasonable complaints:
- We'd been waiting all day, longer than most people.
- We'd paid for our ticket just like everyone else.
- The purpose of a line is to serve firstcomers first.
- As one of the two people in charge, I deserved for my family to get a turn.
- She really wanted to go up.
She wasn't wrong in any of her objections, but there wasn't more fuel to be had. Life's like that sometimes. That said, I've been thinking recently about why I didn't put us in the line. Why did I think that other people should go before our family, including my perfect and deserving daughter? I'm still not able to articulate why I believed we should let everyone else go first. Years later, I find myself needing to relearn this lesson in a much bigger way.
My husband and I have been at the school where we teach for almost three decades. He's been full-time for twenty-eight years, taking on whatever roles are assigned to him and stepping in where needed. He's truly a team player. When we arrived, the school would award two or three sabbaticals every year. When the economy went south in 2008, the school started limiting sabbaticals to two per year.
When I got the dean job, a three-year gig, we thought the end of my assignment would be a good time for us to take a double sabbatical. Unfortunately, without asking for applications for the 2025-2026 year, the school awarded two sabbaticals to people who applied for 2024-2025. I guess one could argue that it's our fault for not entering the queue by letting the school know that we hoped for a sabbatical. One could also make a solid case that we're not owed anything. Still, when people who've been here significantly less time get awarded sabbaticals first, it smarts.
Here's the real reason I'm feeling some kind of way. I've been told that the school is likely to stop giving two sabbaticals a year and go down to just one. Ouch. It's hard to swallow that because we waited until the timing felt right given our commitment to the school, we might never get to take advantage of a huge perk we've been looking forward to since 1997. Now, it's not my daughter crying, it's me (on the inside, but still).
Have you ever waited to ask for something or take advantage of an opportunity until the timing seemed right only to be told the opportunity no longer existed? Please share your thoughts so that I don't feel so alone in this. Alternately, tell me why I'm being a selfish baby. All comments valued and accepted.
Waiting to get my “dream job” in the city until my youngest went to school, only for a global pandemic to turn the world upside down. Work from home was not for me; I thrive on social connections. But, moving to the country has come with plenty of benefits. Maybe you will find a silver lining for sticking around?
P.S. Your daughter has the same initials as our daughter, AEO!
That whole pandemic really threw a lot of wrenches into the works…and by doing so, provided a good lesson in not putting things off, telling our loved ones how we feel, staying fit, etc. I hear you! Yes, I think working with the 2027s will be my silver lining.
P.S. Funny, I have a great advisee with the same initials as your daughter and mine…hehehe.
Ooph, 100 percent.
Apply NOW for 2026-2007?
Thanks. I’m applying for 2027-2028 and taking over as Dean of the Class of 2027, a role I’m super excited about. I guess it all works out.
How is/was the sabbatical reduction decisions made; how public/written are the decisions. What’s been the tradition of staff expectations. Any advance notice of an upcoming change in procedure. What have the past written policies said about the benefits, and how one requests. Anything in written policy about how the school decides how to award the benefit if/when more want than available slots. Do those past written policies say “subject to change without notice. etc.
That’s a lot of questions. I think the succinct answer is that we were never promised anything, and the decision is a financial one for the good of the institution. I really can’t be mad at anyone except myself for not applying earlier. The point of my post wasn’t to say anything bad about the school but to advocate against thinking that we can always and indefinitely put off things we want because they’ll always be there when, in fact, life doesn’t guarantee anything of the sort.
My heart goes out to you. I’ve found myself in those situations before and can still feel the intense need to scream out of sheer frustration and regret. The squeaky wheel usually does get the grease. Let the decision makers hear your squeaky wheels this year! You guys have EARNED this!
Thank you. We may squeak next year; for now, we’ll celebrate the Class of 2025!