Dear Principal:
I am writing to request permission to take a sabbatical. Before you start to hold up your hands and shake your head, just give it a thought. Forget about budgets and money and think about how illustrious our school could become. Will become.
Think about what great work I could accomplish if I had the time to devote my brain power fully to writing each day for 365 days. Not just the few hours (more like minutes, really) between the last bell and the clock at home that ticks sluggishly by as I grade yet another paper.
Here is what I propose: let me have just one teensy little school year. Just one. Maybe one every five years. In that year, you can fill my teaching position with someone else while I stay home and write. Of course, I will still also draw a salary and will need the assurance that I'll get to slide right back into my original position after the year is up.
In exchange for this, I promise to spend the hours from 7:30 till 2:30 each week day diligently writing. I will finish my novel, keep up my blog, and send out query letters to prospective agents. By the end of the year, you will be able to tell the school board that you have a best selling authoress on staff. I will even donate an autographed copy of my novel to the library. I will come back to school rejuvenated, ready to devote a fully un-preoccupied brain to my lesson plans and grading and teaching. I will not be distracted by that pesky novel that's chirping away in my brain, battering against my skull in a desperate hope for its release. Well, okay. Actually, I probably will. There's always something new. But I should be able to stave it off, resting on the laurels of my publishing deal, content to wait five more years until the next sabbatical.
I really can't fathom how you could pass this opportunity up, really. Although the school board may balk initially at the idea of awarding a sabbatical to a teacher, it is truly a win-win situation for all involved. You will be lauded as that rarest of administrators: one who can look beyond dollar signs to the true value of the written word, one who truly values the arts. In truth, you will likely receive national recognition, at the least from the NEA, for your commitment to fostering the voice of this one English teacher, the girl who just needs a bit more time to foster her genius. The school board will surely be able to glean a bit of that reflected glory, as well. The district will have the distinct honor of calling a celebrated authoress one of its own.
Thank you for considering my proposal, Mr. Principal, and I look eagerly forward to hearing your response.
With all seriousness,
Me
1 comment:
dear "me",
in all seriousness - get back to work. what do you think the summer break is for?
signed,
Mr Principal
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