From Rachel Toor
At the recent AAC&U meeting, a president friend asked a small group of us if we'd seen the season premiere of Law and Order the night before.
She described it: A Jewish president stressed by accusations of plagiarism comes upon a group painting a bagel shop with graffiti.
He is stabbed to death.
The motive? He hadn’t made a public statement about, um, well, you know.
That night, after the blood returned to my knuckles, I asked my friend to describe her experience viewing it. She said:
Perhaps most uncomfortably close to home was the conversation in the president’s apartment after the murder, in which police were trying to get useful information from the president’s widow, who was of little help.
When asked to describe his state of mind, she said he was "paranoid, frustrated, exhausted."
Exasperated, she told the cops her husband had been a very busy person who worked all the time. She couldn’t keep track of all his obligations and events. They’d be better off asking his chief of staff these kinds of questions, she said.
Both women—the wife and the chief of staff—were accustomed to the president being the target of abuse.
I couldn’t help but think about how my spouse would reply to police questions if I were murdered on the job. It made me deeply uncomfortable to imagine him being devastated but not surprised.
Do you know where the president was tonight? I have no idea. She's at events almost every night.
What was the president's state of mind recently? Worn down, worried, concerned about her safety.
Is there anyone who would want to hurt the president? Just open the president's inbox and you'll find plenty of possible suspects.
And, like the wife on the show, it's very likely my spouse would refer the police to my chief of staff for details.
It has become an unfortunate reality that college and university presents are targets of violent threats. I suspect many of us would be able to point to at least a handful of emails or letters that our institutions would need to turn over to police in the event of an investigation following a murder.
And it’s not just me. My staff also field threatening calls and messages, absorbing the second-hand vitriol.
Wouldn't it be nice if this season of Law and Order turned out to be less ripped-from-the-headlines and more like a documentary showing a university board hiring a new president and then not supporting the person they select. Or reveal just how little many board members—and donors—understand about higher ed.
Turns out the writer/creator of Law and Order, Dick Wolf, called in October for the resignation for the president of his alma mater, Penn, to which he is/was a major donor.
Some presidents tell me they have great relationships with their boards. Some are fortunate to have former presidents serving, and if they're lucky, the "right" number of lawyers. (Just one or more than two so there's a tie-breaker when they fight with each other.) Some leaders feel supported and understood by their chair, though there are also plenty who were hired by someone whose term soon ended.
Recently I spent an hour and a half on the phone listening to a current leader talk about a first presidency. I heard horrifying details about what had happened.
I listened. The president couldn’t see me nodding along, but I said, yes, yes. And sometimes, oh. And sometimes, oh shit.
At the end, I said I was so sorry this happened to her and that I’ve heard similar stories from other presidents and chancellors, including one who wrote about his experiences for The Sandbox last fall.
Neither of these first-time presidents had been able to have meaningful conversations about boards; they didn’t realize how similar bad board stories are. Presidents often say they had no idea of what “normal” board behavior was when they were members of the cabinet. You don’t last long as a leader if you trash your current boss(es).
Often a board says it wants a “change agent” but doesn’t want to change. People like people who are like them—trustees tend to be masters of the universe, not nerdy professor types. Just fire those idiots, they say about obstreperous faculty members. Cut programs! But leave football alone.
Board members put their hands on (some) presidents' or staff members asses. Boards tell presidents they're too emotional. Too strident. Too intense. Their clothes are too tight. Too sloppy. Skirts are too short. Too long. Get a personal shopper, presidents are told. Oh, and you laugh too loud or need to smile more.
It seems to be a rare board that understands how higher ed actually works.
And who could blame them? It's a super weird industry. I mean, shared governance? Educating a board can be up to the person who reports to them. That's a heavy lift. Plus, there's no meaningful oversight when they go astray.
There are plenty of great consultants and even an entire association devoted to helping boards. But the fact is, as is often the case in life, that those who are determined to get better are usually already pretty good and atypically reflective, and the ones who most need help think they're doing just fine.
How do you train powerful, successful, professional people who don't realize they may in fact be the problem—and who have the power to fire you?
