I am an English teacher at Columbia College, an idyllic place in the Sierra foothills near Yosemite National Park. I wake up at around 6;30, brew coffee from Verve roastery in Santa Cruz and sip it from the same mug every morning made on a pottery wheel by my friend Sifu, a broad cup that fits both hands with a heart on the center and the word “Integrity” etched onto the bottom. I sit on an adirondack rocker on my porch with my coffee, watching the morning bicyclists pass by. I ready for awhile (currently “Transatlantic” by Colum McCann) and then eventually rise to go to work. For my commute I walk from my house along a forest path that follows a man-made water flume built by the gold miners in 1850. Thanks to my college, I’m able to live this dream of traveling the world with my family during this sabbatical year.