Stepping Away

The writer is a former president

I stepped back from a hectic presidency to the faculty ranks a few years ago. What do I miss? Not as much as I thought I would. Maybe this is because I still write, review, am deeply involved in my discipline, hang out in the hallways with colleagues and teach undergraduates. That's how it all started, decades ago.

Oddly, what first comes to mind might shock: I miss the donors and alumni. Like most academics, I prefer my own people, and reflexively defend faculty and faculty sensibilities, no matter how ridiculous we can be. But what surprised me was how many very smart (as smart as us—I mean, who knew?!), interesting, intellectual and just downright loyal friends I’d make among our alums. It’s a real gift, for an academic, to get to meet so many successful, lovely people who we’d never, ever have encountered in a faculty lounge.  

Another thing I miss is my close-in staff—the small corps of people who ran my calendar and therefore my life. They anticipated my near-every need, and I knew about their kids, grandkids, health struggles and what they made for dinner. We had a camaraderie that was so intimate, caring and 24-7, that it went way beyond most friendships I’ve ever had.  

If we’re being honest [Ed’s note: duh! It’s The Sandbox], I miss dressing up.  I try to pull it together when I teach, but really the students wouldn’t care if I showed up in a metallic 70s-era running suit or a Hefty bag. After I stepped down, I realized I had a dozen dark Ann Taylor skirt suits collecting dust, so I hauled those to Goodwill, along with the same number of black pumps. I’ve never been an imaginative dresser, and even with, again, being honest, a good salary, never splurged on the really good stuff (now I can never justify buying St. John—crap!). But putting on a suit does make you feel like a goddam pro, moving in a world of ritzy hotel lobbies and elegant speaking venues.  

And as long as we’re being bourgeois: the high-end restaurants, yow! Once a donor took me to his usual lunch joint, where I could see Henry Kissinger a few tables over, a Treasury Secretary to my right (physically and fiscally) and some glamorous women too gorgeous not to be famous.

I still go to sports events, and it’s more fun because I’m not thinking about NIL, unionization and conference re-alignment. And I get to enjoy, and watch other people enjoy, the stuff we did: new buildings, new parking lots (!), new programs, new gardens. These are secret satisfactions because most people don’t know that you built these things and how hard it was. It is the rare leader who gets remembered for much, even if something actually has your name on it.

While I loved being president, I have to say that stepping away is freaking awesome and I’m glad I got to do it at a time I chose, and after exceeding the average length of a presidency. I didn’t realize until I was no longer in the job that I was  always cognitively pre-occupied, even during time with family or non-university friends. As a civilian, the quality of my interactions went way up. I’ve realized I missed hundreds of faculty dinner parties (like in their houses, where people cook and say whatever!), bitching about the administration (totally and chronically fun) and field trips with students.

Back on the faculty, I don't teach the same way I did when I was a young professor, but I get to say things now I’d never say as president, including offhand comments about public figures, my field, music, whatever. I feel like the me I was as a hard-driving assistant professor. I feel actually kinda young again!

Finally:  I am no longer a prisoner of others. No one (except my spouse and kids) cares where I am or what I’m doing. I can get up and take a long walk. So, there’s freedom of speech and also freedom of movement. If I spend the day in an archive (no phones), no one gives a damn, and I don’t have a boatload of worried, urgent texts when I come out.  

Serving people—everyone, pretty much—is fundamentally what a president does, and it’s exhausting. I’m older, of course, but I’m in better shape (I now have exercise time, like, a lot of it) and the stress level is way down. I rarely set the alarm. After so many years of getting up at 5 or 6am, I just sleep until I’m up—luxury!  

The writer is a former president

My decision to retire involved a combination of personal and professional reasons and did not come easily. I knew I wanted it to be on my own terms and not someone else’s decision.  

I was approaching 70, having spent 45 years as a career academic, the last 15 as a campus president.  “Spending more time with family” is not just a truism for those of us who contended with relentless schedules for years, often out of our control. Long anticipated travel plans with my spouse, time with family and grandkids, having good health and mobility and a solid financial plan, all factored into the personal side of my decision. In my view, I had “earned” my retirement.  

Professionally, my intention was to time my departure (to the extent possible) on a high or at least neutral note, hopefully letting any accomplishments and achievements that occurred under my watch speak for themselves. I did not want to leave in the middle of a crisis (as if we choose!) and wanted to have the major campus elements/issues in order (e.g., no Cabinet vacancies, capital campaign on track) for my successor.  

As it turned out, I announced my retirement in late 2019 just two months before Covid-19 forced us to lockdown our campuses. As a result, I elected to delay retirement for six additional months to enable a modicum of stability and consistency on campus during this extraordinary time. I did not regret this decision to delay; quite the contrary, it was the right thing to do.  

Retirement decisions are never easy, especially for us type-A people, but I was fortunate that most of my plans worked out, apart from the longer than anticipated consequences of a  global health crisis. What do I miss? The people—students, faculty, staff, alumni—not the stress!!     

The writer is a former president

When the board chair sat me down and gave me the list of demands they required for me to stay on as president, I at first tried to figure out how I could accommodate their humiliating demands and keep my job – but it would have been near impossible. They were making it too difficult and unreasonable enough for me to agree to resign.

I called my employment attorney to see what my options were and he said I had a good case to keep my job or at least secure some compensation. But the close staff around me reminded me that my legacy would be ruined if I took on the college. These were the same loyal folks who said "When you leave, we’re leaving.” That didn’t happen. In fact, one of them got my job. 

My job was my life, my hobby. I loved every day I worked—even the bad days—because I was making a difference. It was often stressful and required my aged wisdom to know what to do in many situations that someone with less experience might not be equipped to handle. 

Am I sad, angry, bitter? Yes. I still have the urge to pick up the phone and call my staff to see how things are going. I fantasize about attending a board meeting and making my three-minute citizen comment, giving them a piece of my mind. But in reality, I have other things to do like apply for medicare, figure out how to live with my spouse of 50 years 24-7 and stay busy doing busy work.

The writer is a current former president