In Praise of Unplugging & The Auto-Reply

I remember the semester – now years ago as faculty, before I became dean – that I took the plunge. I would whisper about it to close colleagues, floating the idea in a hushed voice: “I think I might start stating in my syllabi that I don’t check email on the weekends…” It felt countercultural (even negligent) at the time. So, I first tried it in a semester when I didn’t teach on Mondays, assuring myself that I could respond to any weekend student emails before class on Tuesdays. The sky didn’t fall, and I have kept up the practice of a weekend email hiatus ever since.

When I became dean and thereby committed to a standard office workday schedule with less flexibility and autonomy than I had had as faculty, I went even further than the weekend email hiatus and committed to no email on weekday evenings either. I have since made a habit of logging out at 5:00 p.m. It is worth noting that I have previously been in roles that bore responsibility to handle emergencies overnight (such as leading month-long backpacking trips and working at a boarding school, where I lived in a dorm apartment and carried a radio at all times). I thus practice my current weeknight evening hiatus with the awareness that there are not academic emergencies this urgent. One of my mentors (the dean of students at that boarding school) summed up his three decades of experience in residential life and student development by wisely telling me that most issues – unless life-threatening – can wait until morning. I continue to keep this gauge in mind.

Now in my fifth year in my role as dean, I see these email hiatus practices as critical to my self-care, my sustainability, and my potential for longevity in an administrative role – as well as a form of leadership unto itself. After having been unplugged on the weekends, I return to work each Monday morning rejuvenated and energized. After having unplugged in the evenings, I return to work each morning ready to be fully present and tackle the day’s tasks. In this way, unplugging is a form of both self-care and service, sustaining myself so that I have ongoing bandwidth to serve others and manage my administrative responsibilities well.

I know many colleagues and friends who blur work and life time, but I value compartmentalization for my own work/life balance and congruence. Perhaps I have embarked on just enough introductory mindfulness training and practice to see the value in striving to be present and attuned to one domain or the other for designated periods of time – therefore opting to be fully available or not available at all.

On the weekends, I employ an auto-reply as a means of transparent communication: “I practice an email hiatus on weekends, so please know that I will reply on Monday as needed. Enjoy your weekend!” While I first began doing this as a courtesy and a way of setting expectations, I have since found that it is also worthwhile as a form of modeling – thereby giving implicit permission for others to do the same, which I hazard carries more weight now in my leadership role.

The auto-reply – whether for weekend, vacation, conference travel, retreat, back-to-back meetings, or otherwise – provides benefits to both self and colleagues. For myself, I have realized that setting an auto-reply alleviates any guilt I may feel about not responding promptly. It provides an opportunity to state simply what I am doing and why I am not immediately available, thereby negating any potential risk of being perceived as unresponsive. In fact, feedback from my faculty and staff colleagues has repeatedly noted my responsiveness as an asset. Perhaps, then, the auto-reply is received as a response of sorts.

Building on the weekend auto-reply with more specificity, a well-crafted weekday auto-reply can follow this recipe or formula: [when] + [why] + [who else to contact]. Clear communication like this benefits colleagues because it is immediate, informative, and actionable. Rather than being left wondering why you have not responded yet, colleagues can pivot to contact someone else or know to wait for your later response.

My auto-replies and visible statements of unplugging have been positively received. I have had colleagues ask if they can borrow or adapt my language, HR staff praise the example I am setting, and recipients both on and off campus send notes of encouragement and acceptance. For example, a community partner noted:

Also, I want to compliment you on your weekend hiatus from work email—very smart!

One faculty member, writing to me on a Sunday in my first semester as dean, included this thoughtful and affirming caveat:

I certainly respect your weekend hiatus from email, and see it as a wonderful piece in a personal sabbath…when that can actually happen. A true break from all the busyness and hectic things around us. It’s hard for me, too, and I don’t currently have nearly the many elements to deal with as you do! Please know that when you receive an email from me that’s been written during a weekend, this only means I had time at that moment to compose it without any expectation that it would be read or addressed until the coming week at your convenience.

Now that I have mastered the practice and reaped the benefits of unplugging while away from work, I am striving to unplug selectively and purposely while at work. For example, inspired by a suggestion from Melanie Ho, facilitator of The Chronicle of Higher Education’s May 2023 Women Leading Change workshop, I have begun experimenting with a monthly email-free and off-site “retreat” day for myself to focus on more strategic work, which Ho framed as an example of “resisting urgency culture.” When I set an auto-reply for my retreat day one month, I again received a positive note from a faculty colleague:

I like your plan to block out email on [Friday]. Email is a useful tool but I think we apply it too broadly. It’s distracting to the creative process. I hope you are reading this on Monday.

I am finding that these retreat days provide an expansive sense of time – simultaneously productive and contemplative. This time supports what Cal Newport calls “deep work” (“the act of focusing without distraction on a cognitively demanding task”) and counteracts what he calls the “hyperactive hive mind” (“a workflow centered around ongoing conversation fueled by unstructured and unscheduled messages delivered through digital communication tools like email and instant messenger services”). [ii]