The Real Housewives of Academe

The writer is a current chancellor

A while back, I was a semifinalist in a presidential search. I had decades of leadership experience in higher ed and served as a provost responsible for a vast portfolio.

When I didn’t make the final cut, I asked the search firm for feedback. They said my experience read to the search committee as only “operational.” They didn’t see me as a strategic or visionary leader. 

They also thought I used “we” too much. It was difficult for them to see what I had done myself. 

Funny. After a mock interview in an aspiring presidents' institute, I’d been told I used “I” too much. Women who do this can come off as unattractively arrogant. 

So, when I entered an actual search, I had to think hard about how to present myself as a candidate. 

Perhaps I could have been clearer in that first high-stakes interview, but it’s hard to come across as a visionary leader and someone who gives credit to those whose good work makes your success possible in sixty stressful minutes. 

Now that I’ve had time to reflect, I believe using “we” is correct. If I’m ever looking for another leadership role, I will use continue to say we with pride—and also highlight things that were my ideas and show how I provided support to others.

Here’s my reasoning: I grew up in a single income household with lots of siblings. It was clear to me even as a kid that my mother was the one who got shit done. She was transportation specialist, accountant, facilities manager, police, tutor, counselor, cook, custodian, and crisis manager. 

She was, in other words, a housewife.

My father used to say that he made all the important decisions in the marriage: who should be president of the U.S., if the Broncos needed to make a trade, and whether our state should raise taxes. 

My mother, he claimed, made the less important decisions: where we would live, what we would eat, and how we’d pay for it all. My father said this as a joke, but no one laughed because it was true. 

Much has been written about how difficult the college presidency is these days. Yes, it is, and it’s certainly harder for some than it is for others. As a straight white woman, I enjoy privileges others do not.

But you know who’s working under conditions of intense pressure, demoralization, and frustration? 

The real "housewives" of academe: the provosts and senior vice presidents, as well as the many vice provosts and associate vice presidents. As we have seen recently, tragically, the group of leaders one-level-down from the president/chancellor are suffering even more burnout than presidents themselves. 

These folks bear much of the responsibility for managing daily operations, as well as having to handle incidents requiring emergency response and crisis management. They carry heavy loads but without appropriate levels of authority, support, or recognition. Their work is largely behind the scenes. 

Presidents and chancellors get to stand up and take the bow for all the successes of a college or university, yet they often fail to acknowledge the leadership—and the intense and often emotionally hard work—that happens in the offices that report to them. I’d even go so far as to say that many presidents get to where they are by implicitly taking credit for the achievements of their staff.

Unsurprisingly, this group of higher ed housewives includes a high percentage of women and people of color paid a fraction of presidential salaries. 

Those of us who have risen through the ranks know that higher ed leadership is a team sport, or so we’ve heard and often say. At the level one step down from top roles are people who get shit done. 

Acknowledging their work publicly, to boards and faculty, alumni and donors, will help pave the way for the next, more inclusive wave of leaders when we need them most.