This Is Off the Record

drawing of kids playing outside administration building

From Rachel Toor

In Nina Totenberg's recent memoir, she uses her close relationship with Ruth Bader Ginsberg (long before she became the Notorious RBG) to discuss friendship in general and what it was like to be the first women in certain roles.

Totenburg's friendships with Ginsberg and other Supremes allowed her access to information that could have been big news had she chosen to break confidences. Hard-nosed journalists trashed Totenberg for not privileging her job over her life.

While I get the conflict, I also understand that leaders, including (some) Supreme Court justices, are human. I get the need to talk shop with friends who understand how lonely certain roles can be.

We hear a lot (at least I do) about the isolatation presidents and chancellors feel in the top job. Many former leaders are even lonelier after they clear out their spacious office and realize "friends" only wanted to speak with the president.

The relationship between journalists and those they report on can be more complex than many would like to admit. When we're being honest and allowing our egos to take a hit, writers know folks reach out to us because they have a story they want told, not because they enjoy our sparkling wit.

And, as Janet Malcolm so pointedly reminded us, subjects find it easy to forget that reporters aren't there to take their side. It gets messy because we are all human (at least until the bots take over).

When Doug Lederman approached me last spring about doing a newsletter for leaders, I knew I didn't know enough to offer anything substantive. Who would provide the content?

Throughout the summer, we had hours of phone calls while walking our dogs on opposite sides of the country, during which I wailed that the whole thing seemed impossible.

Doug: "It will come."

Me: "Passive voice! That's like saying the rain will fall! What busy president is going to make time to talk to me, and then write for no money, no credit, and no institutional promotion?"

Doug: "It will come. Truro, please stop barking, pup."

Me: "Easy for you to say, buddy boy. Yikes! Squirrel!"

Doug: [laughs]

Me: "Everyone already knows you. I got nothin'. This is going to fail! Good thing I have a day job as a professor. Harry, don't pee on those flowers!"

But, as I tell my work wife at least a few times a week when I am overwhelmed with gratitude to the people who have trusted me with their confidences, he was right. We are now in the enviable position of having a backlog of submissions. Please keep them coming. Email me your thoughts/suggestions/healthy snack recs.

As you know if you've been reading, The Sandbox is doing something different than the important work of journalism. Our mission is explicitly to support those doing the work of leading in higher ed; we're here to listen and to let you—though with a heavy editorial hand to preserve and protect anonymity (and guard against flag-waving)—tell your (authentic) stories.

Talking to Journos

From a current president

When people ask where would be my dream presidency, I’d love to respond “1985.”

Recently I watched a PBS interview with a journalist discussing the attempts by President Gee at West Virginia University to address challenges. It was titled “Why West Virginia is Gutting its Public University.”

None of us wants that headline, so perhaps we have reasons to avoid being completely honest with journalists about our concerns and worries.

This interview shows part of the dilemma for university presidents. If we address our concerns by doing something big and bold, as WVU has done, our universities will be hammered by journalists, as well as stakeholders across the campus and our communities, which will also get a lot of negative media attention. Because we know that type of coverage can exacerbate our enrollment challenges, this weighs in our decisions about the best course of action.

When we fail to act the way some outsiders think we should, it is not because we lack courage as a group. Most of us have plenty of experience being criticized, sometimes widely and loudly, for decisions we make, including what to serve for dessert.

However, that will not stop people who have never been in our positions from being sure we made the wrong choices, suggesting we moved too fast, too slowly, made the wrong cuts, did not invest in the right programs, etc. The reporter in the PBS story suggested there were “better options” at WVU, but, of course, I did not hear anything during the interview that outlined what those might be.

From a current president

When an inquiry from a reporter comes in, a range of emotions follows.

An initial burst of enthusiasm and energy, as in, “Great, they are interested in our school. This could be a really nice opportunity to talk about the important work we do.”

Then comes the inevitable hesitation, or even fear, as in “I wonder what they are after” and “Can I trust them?” The fear of saying the wrong thing, or of having the reporter choose something out of context then seems to lead to being overly cautious, which can easily come across as boring or uninteresting at best.

As I write this, it strikes me as “overthinking at its finest," of course, but being in charge does involve a healthy dose of paranoia, I suppose.

From a current president:

I love talking to journalists. I find most of them smart, funny, and often deliciously snarky. So it drives me crazy when journalists commit these sins:

Have the story already written in their head. I want journalists to come to me with an open mind and a willingness to hear a counter-narrative. Tell an honest story, not the one you wish were the case or that makes for juicier headlines.
The gotcha approach that confuses cynicism or conformation bias with healthy journalistic skepticism. Remarkably, we sometimes aren’t hiding the real story.
Not doing the homework. If I have to explain the thing about which reporters should at least know the basics, I want some percentage of their salary. Fresh to the higher education beat reporters are most prone to this one and I try to be gentle when the journalist is a kid.

I’ve done this job long enough to call out journalists out when they lapse into these behaviors. I once pulled a reporter into my office and said, “Look, I’ve told my people to share everything and when they do, you either dismiss the evidence or act like you don’t believe them. Why are you being such a dick?” He stammered, made excuses, and then conducted himself differently for the rest of his time on campus and eventually wrote a more balanced story.

Remember, those so often quick to criticize or report on our ostensible shortcomings are surprisingly thin skinned and it’s okay to demand better of them.

From a current president

Off the record, I will tell any journalist I trust anything about my administration, including acknowledging where I fell short and how I plan to turn it around. On the record, I will tell them all they need to know to honor the truth at a level of detail that is appropriate for the moment given the need to sequence and pace the convos.

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Talking to Journos

Democracy Dies in Darkness

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