From Rachel Toor
More than two decades ago, I wrote about being the child of academics.
Faculty brats are a thing. Many of us know that story.
The story most may not know is what it’s like to live in the president’s house as a kid or spouse. Or rather, the stories. Because your mileage may vary.
A goal of The Sandbox is to make visible some of the joys and challenges of leading colleges and universities at a particularly challenging time. And to provide a tasty snack to go with Saturday morning coffee before you dive into all the (bad) news.
Another goal, if we’re honest, is to ask for support for the free journalism Inside Higher Ed provides. Higher ed media is in about the same financial shape as the industry we cover. (Right: yikes!) That’s why The Sandbox is behind a modest paywall. Also to deter those who want to spit haterade from the cheap seats.
If you like this quirky newsletter and want it (and IHE) to continue to thrive, please encourage others to join. Go ahead and forward profligately to anyone you think might benefit from seeing unvarnished accounts from our leaders. And remind current and former presidents and chancellors that we want to hear from them.
Thanks for reading, peeps. Remember, as our friends in the newspaper biz remind us every day, democracy dies in darkness—especially when billionaires control the media. (Hiya, Jeff B!)
A few weeks ago, I ranted that no one should be calling students “kids.” (At some point, I’ll weigh in on the general use of “you guys.” It’s sexist, y’all.)
What follows is from a kid. A pretty darned awesome president’s kid.
