When You Go From ‘Us’ to ‘Them’

Both writers are current presidents.

Like others who have risen through the ranks to lead the institution where I built my career, my experience in the presidency has been different from that of outsiders. While I thoroughly understand our history, people, and operations, I’ve had to work hard to set aside preconceptions and embrace new perspectives on how we need to evolve and adapt to changing circumstances.

Throughout my tenure, I’ve cultivated meaningful relationships: The campus community consists of my longtime colleagues, my friends, my frenemies. I know which faculty member to ask to manage a complex shared governance project, which alumni can help facilitate understanding unpopular decisions, and even which facilities staff to contact when the sewer system backs up. I maintain great relationships with former presidents and provosts, who offer valuable counsel when needed.

My familiarity with the institution runs deep—I know how to get to every academic department and where they used to be housed. I knew the president’s house well from numerous events there, though the private living quarters were a surprise. Not having to relocate meant I already have a doctor, dentist, hair salon, and favorite restaurant where everyone knows my name (this last one can also be a disadvantage!). Other presidents tell me how hard it is to get comfortable with both a new job and a new location.

When I was appointed, many in the campus community knew me—or thought they knew me. They brought their experiences (and biases) working and interacting with me to shape their perceptions of how I would lead, for better or worse.

All presidents face hard personnel decisions, but for me, it has been painful to let go of colleagues I’ve known for years. And criticism takes on a different meaning when it comes from longtime friends. It hurts more when someone I’ve known for decades posts on social media that I am dishonest or that my decisions could damage the institution.

Being othered in a meeting where the “administration” is taken to task for decisions related to the pandemic, admissions, salary pool or benefits, or something else on the long laundry list of complaints can be challenging. “You mean me?” I ask. “You know our names.”

Even though I am the same person, in the same place, ascending to the presidency has been lonelier, harder, more fun, and more fulfilling than I expected.

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When I became interim president, the members of the cabinet had been my peers, and now I was their supervisor. I removed two positions, people I had worked with. It’s hard to have these conversations, and one of them, who returned to faculty, is not a fan. I don’t blame her.

To create a better working cabinet, I promoted an AVP, which made him a peer to his former supervisor. Helping them both make that transition was challenging, perhaps more so because I knew them reasonably well.

When I became the permanent president, I had to replace the provost and did a national search. I truly believed the person serving as interim would be the best. He applied, but it turned out there was another candidate who blew everyone out of the water, and that’s who I selected.

Some were horrified and some were thrilled. Both very good candidates. Since I reported to the previous president, making these changes meant changes in style and culture. It was hard for people to adjust.

Working with the board has also had some challenges (and this is true for all presidents, I know). As interim president, I knew that my status could change very quickly. Now that I am “real,” it can also change quickly, but there is a different feel to it. I can now more confidently state my position, even when it may not align exactly with the board or board chair (not in public, of course).