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As a septuagenarian university president, I was intrigued by a recent Inside Higher Ed piece, “For College Presidents, Is 70 the New 50?” In part, the article questions the motives and efficacy of colleges appointing leaders so clearly “long in the tooth” and ponders why past-retirement-age academics would accept a presidency even when offered.
It caused me to reflect on my own decision to “fail retirement” at 70 and take one more lap around the presidency track. I see at least two reasons to do so.
First, as the article notes, some people believe the accumulated lessons learned, range of experience and wisdom that comes with age is especially valued now. I contend this is so. Over my now 46 years of service in (public) higher education, I have seen the issues and challenges facing university leaders become increasingly complex. Students have changed, as have their backgrounds and aspirations. Faculty members have changed, becoming, in some cases, more militant but most certainly more mobile. Funding has changed with the redefining of higher education as primarily a private good rather than a public good. Politics and politicians intervene in the life of the university now more deeply and more regularly than ever before. Security, both on the campus and in cyberspace, is a constant concern.
And the higher education market has become considerably more crowded with the rise (and sometimes the decline) of for-profit providers and online program offerings. University leaders who are more senior often bring perspectives and a confidence honed by years in the arena, which help the institution navigate through difficult crosscurrents.
Second, being in the twilight of one’s career provides a liberating ability to do what seems right for the university and those it serves with no fear of adverse impact on future career opportunities. Clearly in my case, and I presume in others’, this is the last stop -- no matter what. And, as the Inside Higher Ed article also points out, having a relatively short shelf life imposes urgency that may not otherwise be present.
For example, roughly two months after I arrived at Florida Gulf Coast University, the campus took a direct hit from Hurricane Irma. I decided it was necessary to extend the fall semester by a week. This drew protests from students, parents and faculty members. Yet I concluded it was more important -- and easier -- for me to be right than popular.
Florida Gulf Coast offered me an opportunity for a final chapter, and it seemed a good fit all around. Entering its third decade, the university was poised for change to continue its growth and development. I was open to a leadership role where meaningful change could occur in a relatively short time frame. And so in 2017, at 70, and 13 years after beginning my first university presidency, I joined the team. To date, it feels like we can all share in my last academic adventure.
At the risk of sounding a bit cavalier, as I faced some recent hard choices, I’ve become more courageous, knowing that, on a personal level, the worst that can happen is I become a full-time grandfather. We are currently making some rather sweeping changes in the university’s approach to student support and student success, which has engendered angst in some quarters. But the times call for change, and given the state of my career, I feel entirely empowered to proceed.
This for me is a comforting final career path. All this lowers the stress and enhances the satisfaction associated with the responsibilities of university leadership.
So I don’t believe 70 is the new 50. Quite simply, 70 (and 70 plus) is 70 (and 70 plus), but being 70 or older now brings benefits both to the institution and the individual that weren’t as valued in the past. While I hope more seasoned leaders will continue to serve where their service matters, I also hope they invest their time and support in preparing successors. It’s a final contribution we 70-pluses can make.
