From Rachel Toor
When I got today’s piece from a former president, I thought, hmm. I haven’t been attending these association meetings long enough to know what’s what. But I’ve heard these issues raised by plenty of current presidents.
So it’s funny that I’m sending this out after being in D.C. for the annual meeting of the American Council on Education.
Ted Mitchell, former under secretary of education and now president of ACE, started with remarks about the year ahead. He committed to work with the administration and reiterated that we would not cower in the face of assault. He urged us to be proud of all we do. And, he said, we must acknowledge valid criticisms. (And let’s be clear: I don’t think the real issues are about “wokeness” but rather in how we deliver what we say we do.)
Ted argued that this is a chance to seize the moment and move higher ed to improve, inspire, and innovate. Indeed, I was excited by intense conversations with presidents who are leaning into each of those things.
The next morning, Under Secretary of Education Nicholas Kent read a smug speech (with toadying references to his big boss, clichés, and curious words like “objectable”) that excoriated everyone in the room.
“Buckle up,” said the attack dog who carries a pedigree chip on his shoulder. He trotted out an idiotic his now much-quoted line about accepting the grief they’ve inflicted on us. It seems that for this administration, the art of the deal is negotiating with terrorists. We’re just supposed to cave.
ACE’s Jon Fansmith followed him to the podium. In an eloquent response not read from a script, he referenced Maya Angelou: They’ve shown us who they are and we’d better believe them. Jon pointed out that grief is about permanent loss. Given that statements, letters, and tweets do not have the force of law behind them, what’s done can be undone. None of this is permanent, he said. Many of us later said we want T-shirts with this reminder. Or maybe, given who Jon’s boss is, baseball caps.
Things will get worse, especially after July 1, when their policies go into effect, but we who have opted to go into higher ed instead of meaningful pursuits like professional wrestling are resilient and mission-driven. Those leaders who can speak out and resist the bullies, must. That’s a duh.
But an experienced trustee who currently sits on both public and private boards told me that’s fine for presidents whose bosses have their backs. We have to understand that’s not always the case. That should also be a duh. (I’m going to keep reminding people that not everyone has the same privilege, and if good folks are ousted, whoever follows will probably not be better.)
As befitting a conference that started with an acknowledgment higher ed has not been perfect, ACE’s meeting ended with a talk by Anthony Abraham Jack that addressed some of the ways we’re failing. The sociologist, on a panel with two current students, pointed out that while everyone brags about bringing in first-gen and “diverse” students, when they show up on campus, most still don’t do enough to support them.
Jack reminded us that we pay lip service to the hidden curriculum, but no matter how many offices of “belonging” you set up, students go where they are comfortable—to professors from similar circumstances and to custodians and dining hall workers who feel like family. If we bring these students in, we have to coach them up in ways that suit them, not us.
Among the comments after the opening session were reminders that individual institutions need associations to act on their behalf. And that no one should assume every member has the same political bent.
The message of this meeting was clear: We should continue to be proud of how we are serving the public good. And we can and must do better.
After the closing session, Toby and I went for a run on the mall and happened on a demonstration. Professionally nosy, I elbowed into a group of teens and asked what was up. This protest against ICE was organized by D.C. high schools. My hurting little heart nearly exploded and I thanked them for giving me hope.
I want to believe they had all gone inside the memorial on whose steps they protested and read the entire text of Lincoln’s second inaugural address. They are doing what that president called for during a time of significant upheaval: “Let us strive on to finish the work we are in to bind up the nation’s wounds.”