Things Are No Longer Fine

From Rachel Toor

We have gone through the looking glass. Nothing is as it was, things are no longer what they seem, and “uncertainty” is the word of the day.

We were already dealing with a whole mess of stuff, but the first half of this year has shown that only a dystopian author could have imagined where we would be now. People say they’re numb and nothing surprises them anymore. Me, I am shocked every single day by what I’m reading in the news.

And if you’re good with the disappearing students; the withdrawal of support for luxuries like science, medicine, and the arts; the public lack of confidence; the gutting of all that we held true and dear, let me just remind you that if Cyndi Lauper were singing today, she’d be belting out a different set of lyrics: “~~Money~~ AI changes everything.”

For those who (say they) aren’t yet feeling the squeeze, I’m happy for you. But your colleagues in certain areas of the country have been dealing with this stuff for a while, and if you don’t think it’s coming for you (whatever the “it” is), I’ll remind you of a quote from the snarkiest dean of them all:

“And he, whose fortunes and dispositions have placed him in a convenient station to enjoy the fruits of this noble art; he that can with Epicurus content his ideas with the films and images that fly off upon his senses from the superficies of things; such a man truly wise, creams off nature, leaving the sour and the dregs for philosophy and reason to lap up. This is the sublime and refined point of felicity, called the possession of being well deceived; the serene peaceful state, of being a fool, among knaves.”

***

Because I ~~am a fool~~ do favors for family, tomorrow I will be starting a new gig as an international cat courier. My sister-in-law is being posted by the State Department in a country ~~no one ever wants to visit~~ far, far away and I will be flying as escort to one of her cats.

The following week, I’ll dash to a place everyone who loves food, wine, and gorgeous scenery wants to visit.

And so, as we approach The Sandbox’s second birthday, your Swiftian (Jonathan, not Taylor) correspondent will be taking a first-ever publishing break.

We’ll return to your Saturday morning inbox on Aug. 9 ~~exhausted~~ refreshed and ready to face another exciting year in the wild and wacky world of higher ed.

***

But first, here's something more exciting than my feline service trip.

More than two years ago, President Jonathan Koppell of Montclair State made an offer I couldn't refuse: to host a Sandbox dinner for a dozen or so presidents and chancellors from all different parts of our sector.

Because we all move at the speed of academe and have a million other things to do, it's taken a while. But our Sandbox Live! dinner is now on the calendar for September 4 in the Yogi Berra Museum and Learning Center on Montclair’s campus. As befitting a place that honors the master of brilliant (linguistic) mistakes, we decided the topic would be, well, mistakes.

As Jonathan put it, "We’re all practiced at extolling the virtues of our institutions. But sometimes, for many reasons, good ideas don’t work out. Let's have a candid, off-the-record conversation about disappointments and stumbles."

If you're looking to brag about your leadership chops, or wave your institution's flag, this isn't the place to do it. We'll follow ~~Vegas~~ Chatham House Rules, drink some wine, let our hair down, and get down and dirty about brilliant innovations that didn't take root and what we've learned.

Sound like fun? Get in touch with my team. If you can make it to the NYC area, leave your lapel pins at home, put on a baseball cap and jeans, and let's have a great convo.

And this one doesn't fit into your schedule, we have a big IHE conference coming up October 13-14 in Hoboken, NJ. Stay tuned.

The writer is a current president.

During COVID our provost had a standard reply when asked how she was doing: “I’m fine, we’re fine, everything’s fine.” We joked about printing it on T-shirts.

Aside from the obvious sarcasm, there was some truth there. On our campus we were all aligned—trustees, cabinet, faculty leadership—on the way forward. Mostly we relied on the experts in our excellent college of public health, and the only times I didn’t do exactly what they told me to do was a) when they themselves didn’t agree on what to do, or b) when I knew what they were suggesting would run afoul of state policy and dictates. Probably 90 percent of the time neither A nor B came into play.

Our provost no longer says “I’m fine, we’re fine, everything’s fine” when asked how she is doing. She’s pretty much beaten down by the triple whammy of administering an aggressive state anti-DEI and “freedom of expression” law as it pertains to academic affairs, several years in a row of declining state financial support combined with enrollment declines, and head-spinning federal edicts and mandates.

I haven’t heard her say, “I’m fine, we’re fine, everything’s fine” in months.

Recently I attended a national gathering with three dozen or so university presidents. Knowing that I’m from a state with intrusive new legislation, several of them asked me how I was doing. The next day a valued alum and donor who is a successful literary agent asked me the same thing.

I knew that “I’m fine, we’re fine, everything’s fine” was not going to fly as my reply.

And then it hit me, and now I say versions of the following when asked: “Every day feels like the first month of my presidency” (I’m starting my seventh year in the role). And by that I mean the drinking from the fire hose, deer-in-the-headlights feelings of uncertainty and anxiety have returned as if it were July 2019 all over again.

Having to make decisions while not fully understanding an issue, not having the experience set to be confident in my work, wondering if I am up to the task—all that has returned after several years of being pretty confident in my judgment as president. You know the feeling, like you are in the first month of your presidency all over again.

I dislike this feeling, and even more I dislike the anxiety and negativity I am experiencing at the moment. It seems solipsistic to focus on my woes when my family life is great, my financial situation is secure, and none of my identities are threatened by state and federal actions.

But there you have it. I’m in the first year of my presidency all over again.

The Sandbox

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