Searching for a Presidency

The writer is a current president

At the start of my second presidency, the board gave me three primary goals for my first term.

At my annual review closing out the final year of my three-year contract, with negotiations for a renewal underway, the board shared its near unanimous appreciation for the job I had done. I left the meeting buoyant. There was hard work ahead, but the board had my back. 

Less than a day later, I was informed my contract would not be renewed. I was apparently moving too fast too soon to implement necessary change. I negotiated the terms and communication of my departure in a stupor. Then, I went to look for work.

After a vacation, I began sharing my CV with search consultants and got interviews before I had drawn my first severance check. I was going to be okay. Then: nothing. Not only did second interviews not come, but the consultants stopped corresponding altogether.

I continued applying for positions with no success, until one consultant I had known for a while called. She believed I would want to know what might be derailing my progress.

Turns out, some current employees of my most recent institution had contacted her firm to advise them not to consider me for a future presidency. The other search firms that had fallen strangely silent said, when I asked, they had experienced something similar. Individuals—some anonymous, some using their university email addresses—said I was “a hot potato,” “too entrepreneurial and ready to corporatize,” and “putting revenues dangerously ahead of campus culture.”  

What I had tried to do was save a college—including faculty and staff on every committee. What I’d failed to do was realize too much transparency could be a career killer. My mistake was in not fighting back, in walking away too quietly, in silently suggesting, “Okay, you figure it out.”

At the finalist stage of a presidential search, a faculty member identified himself as the informal watchdog of social media posts and the curator of due diligence. He asked how I would respond to people at my last university who claimed I had tried to do too much without others’ input? I described the sort of things that one might interpret as “too fast, etc.” and then booked an earlier flight out the next day. 

Then there was the institution that conducted its presidential search independently, except for finalists-only reference checking for which it hired a search firm. A V-P at that firm called a week before my scheduled campus visit. Everything had gone without a hitch, except for one off-list reference—a contact I had not provided but who worked in a non-administrative role requiring frequent presidential interaction. 

This person, who did not report to me, had agreed to a reference call, then refused to answer every question—choosing to “plead the higher-ed fifth.” The consultant shared this information with the hiring institution, which was now requesting a Zoom meeting prior to my scheduled campus visit. 

No longer surprised, I agreed to Zoom and experienced something I could not have anticipated. After 30 minutes of deep listening, empathetic and curious questions, and mutually respectful dialogue, the hiring group concluded while we were still on the call that I was still a top candidate, had experienced something bizarre even for higher ed, and should not expect this experience to influence or impact a decision on my application.  

I will join them this fall as their next president.

The writer is a current president

I was actually in two searches while I've been president.  In one I was a finalist and the other ended for me at the semi-finalist stage. I had not intended to start job shopping just yet, but I was nominated for one of the positions and then saw the description for the other position and decided to give it a try. I love where I am now, however, this past year was a difficult time for me. The cranky people made life miserable for me; I guess that is why I decided to apply for the positions a little earlier than I had planned.

I shared the news with my board chair, and I offered to call each board member to let them know my situation. These calls, which also included a couple of our foundation board members, were painful and rewarding at the same time. Many board members didn’t want me to go, others understood why I needed to explore new opportunities. Some expressed anger that I would leave, but often people use anger to cover up other emotions, so I didn’t take it personally.

I also shared about being a finalist with my executive team and then with my cabinet. I have always known that I have an amazing team and they were supportive, sad, and excited for me all at the same time. I never made a public or college-wide statement about the job searches, and I didn’t get any direct questions from employees; however, I am sure the campus gossip-vine was in full force. 

I have heard that the best time to look for a job is when you have a job, but whoever said that wasn't a college president. The magnitude of the decisions—deciding to apply or not, deciding to stay or leave—is more elevated than in other positions at the institution, and the process brings home the public nature of the job. (As if I needed any more reminders about the public aspect of my job.) 

I have also come to believe that college presidents have a “shelf-life” and staying too long is as damaging as leaving too soon.  Figuring out the timing is difficult and complex both personally and professionally. I dearly love my current institution and thoughts of possibly leaving were hard to work through. In the end, I withdrew from the job where I was a finalist. I didn’t feel like I would have been a good fit for them.

I called everyone back to tell them I was staying, and most seemed relieved and glad about my decision. I was worried about the board or my staff seeing me as a short-timer— if I looked once, I would look again. But I have been fortunate to be able to keep working on our initiatives just like before, and I have had no repercussions from having been in two searches. I am grateful and lucky.