Presidents: Quit Yer Whining

The writer is a current president.

I have been blessed to serve as the president for the past six years. As a leader who took a nontraditional path from the business world, I have the utmost respect for my fellow college presidents—and continue to learn from these more academically credentialed and experienced colleagues. Normally, I would simply continue to listen and learn and certainly not espouse my views to them. 

However, after reading this newsletter and experiencing numerous conversations at conferences, I feel compelled to add one critical piece of advice: “Woe is not me.” 

I find it discouraging when other presidents complain about the pressures we face, criticize their boards or faculty, lament the political environment, or express frustration about the public perception of higher education. In simple terms: Complaining—or, dare I say, whining—is not a good look for a true leader. 

Yes, it has been a very challenging time for higher education, exacerbated by demographic shifts, economic pressures, politics, and, of course, COVID. But there have been even tougher times in our nation’s history—the Civil War, the Great Depression, and World War II, to name a few. What did our leaders do? Abraham Lincoln ended slavery and brought back together a divided country, while Franklin D. Roosevelt steered our country through economic devastation and then partnered with Winston Churchill to help save the world from fascism.

We were chosen to be presidents for a reason. We are the highest paid, most skilled and experienced, have the most resources, and are uniquely positioned to lead our institutions. Now is our moment. 

The writer is a current president.

I know problems come and go and good folks solve them, but after 15 years as president, I believe there have never been the external pressures there are today in higher ed and society. For example, I am amending my own contract to address the fact that I am at higher risk for termination without cause because of the political environment. 

There is the targeted reduction of government support (aid or research) to ensure higher ed is less relevant and impactful and also less accessible in a world (and my rural community) that needs more education. There is a coordinated effort to declare that going to college “isn’t worth it” despite decades of research to the contrary. Shall I go on? 

I think the reason we sometimes get into group bitch sessions about problems is because no one else can understand them unless they are in the chair. You can’t be transparent about everything even with your closest campus people (board members or employees) because of the public face you have to have at all times. We became presidents because during the job interview, stakeholders felt we were going to be positive, resilient, and confident problem-solvers when faced with adversity. Challenges would never be public and we would keep control of ourselves and our institutions. We are not the highest paid because we lament, rage, or even sigh deeply in public.

But we are also human! Things get us down. The question isn’t whether we are too whiny (or is The Sandbox). But does The Sandbox meet us where we are when we need some humanity about our challenges? I for one don’t underestimate what happens if my school doesn’t survive. There will be a college desert in a place where only a small percentage of adults have a four-year degree. 

That pressure, exacerbated unnecessarily by the current external environment, needs to be released or recognized by those who understand. And, as two things can be true—we need to share how our work provides inspiration, too!