You might remember my friend and former Dartmouth colleague Kaitlin Dumont from the conversations we’ve had over the past several years. We’ve talked about her move from the university side to Kaplan, her experiences as a working parent earning Boston University’s online M.B.A., her work at the intersection of higher education and workforce learning, and even modern career development.
Since then, Kaitlin has joined Huron, where she advises colleges and universities on strategy, innovation and organizational transformation. As we’ve stayed in touch, I’ve also noticed another thread emerging in her work. Whether through executive convenings, Future of Higher Ed, EdTech Week, mentoring early-stage founders or simply making introductions between people who ought to know one another, she seems to be intentionally building bridges across universities, education companies, employers, nonprofits, policymakers and the broader higher education ecosystem.
That struck me as an increasingly important career path in our sector. I wanted to better understand how she thinks about that work and what the rest of us might learn from it.
Q: One thing I’ve noticed about your career is that you seem to have become a connector across the higher education ecosystem. Whether you’re partnering with higher education institutions, convening cross-sector leaders, mentoring founders or bringing together people who otherwise might never have crossed paths, you seem to gravitate toward work that connects people and ideas. Did you set out to carve out this kind of role or did it evolve naturally? Where did that instinct come from? And why do you think higher education needs more people willing to work across the boundaries of institutions, companies and organizations?
A: I’ve always thrived at intersections. Cheerleading and drama club. Religion and modern media (the title of my undergraduate thesis, by the way!). Higher education and ed tech. Higher education and employers. Higher education and … well … just about anything else. It has only been over the last few years that I’ve started asking myself why that is.
I suppose it’s because I’m genuinely curious about how things fit together to create a better outcome. There was a show on Netflix a few years ago, The Queen’s Gambit, where the lead character, played by Anya Taylor-Joy, a chess protégée, would look up at the ceiling and visualize all the possible moves before deciding what came next. I don’t do that with chess pieces. I do it with people. I have an instinct for seeing who should know each other, who might challenge each other’s thinking or who could create something interesting together. Over the years, I’ve collected an incredible network of people across higher education, and increasingly I’ve realized that introducing them to one another can be just as valuable as solving a problem myself.
That realization also changed how I think about higher education.
For too long, we’ve operated with an “I don’t have to outrun the bear, I just have to outrun you” mentality. Institutions competed for students, faculty, rankings, research funding and prestige. That may have worked in another era, but the challenges we’re facing today are bigger than any one campus. Who is today’s learner? How do we respond to shifting public policy? What happens when the traditional business model no longer works? And then, of course, there’s AI.
One of the people who has influenced my thinking the most is Ron Adner at the Tuck School of Business. Ron argues that many of our classic strategy frameworks were designed for industries with clear boundaries. Today’s world doesn’t work that way. Instead, value is increasingly created through ecosystems, where success depends on how well organizations collaborate rather than compete.
I think that’s exactly where higher education finds itself today. In fact, I’d argue we should stop thinking about the higher education industry and start thinking about the learning ecosystem. Universities are joined by employers, education companies, nonprofits, policymakers, philanthropies and many others. The challenge isn’t simply getting those groups into the same room. It’s figuring out how they create more value together than any one organization could create on its own.
Ron also makes another key point in this thinking: Successful ecosystems aren’t built by committee. They emerge because a lead partner takes responsibility for aligning all the other participants around a shared vision. I think the jury is still out on who will play that role in our future learning ecosystem, but that’s one of the questions I find most exciting and what influences much of the work I’m doing today.
Q: People often think about networking as something transactional or primarily about advancing one’s career. You seem to approach it differently, building communities like Future of Higher Ed, organizing conversations and making introductions with no immediate expectation of return. How do you think about community building and what have you learned about creating connections that benefit the broader higher education ecosystem?
A: Once you stop thinking about networking like a consultant and more like an investigative journalist, life gets a whole lot more fun.
I’ve never viewed networking as collecting business cards or trying to figure out what someone can do for me. In fact, some of the most meaningful professional relationships I’ve built started with conversations that had no agenda at all. They were simply interesting discussions with interesting people.
I’ve also learned that the best introductions are often the ones where you disappear. If I introduce two people who end up collaborating on a research project, launching a partnership or simply becoming trusted colleagues, that’s a success, even if I’m no longer part of the conversation.
That philosophy has shaped much of the work I’m doing today. Whether it’s Future of Higher Ed, where I lead the Boston chapter, the Higher Education Fellowship & Think Tank we’re building at EdTech Week or even a recent “One Table” dinner I hosted for a dozen remarkable women across higher education, they all start with the same premise—create the space, introduce a provocative question into the middle of the room (sometimes like a hand grenade … just kidding … mostly) and then get out of the way.
Some of the best ideas don’t come from the smartest person in the room. They emerge because someone brought together people who see the world differently.
As consultants, it’s tempting to think we always need to have the answer. I’ve actually found that some of the greatest value we can provide is creating the conditions for better conversations. If we educate the market, ask better questions and help people learn from one another, the partnerships and opportunities tend to follow naturally. I like to joke that one plus one can equal three, but I genuinely believe that’s what happens when you bring together the right people around the right challenge.
Q: You’ve now worked across elite universities, executive education, educational consulting, education companies and nonprofit organizations. Looking ahead, what advice would you give someone early or midcareer who wants to build a meaningful, lasting career across higher education? What skills, mindsets or habits do you think will matter most over the next decade?
A: Someone once asked me whether I loved my job and without thinking, I blurted out, “No.” (That probably wasn’t the answer they were expecting …)
What I should have said is that I find my work deeply meaningful. But meaningful work isn’t always enjoyable. It’s challenging. It’s frustrating. Sometimes it’s emotionally exhausting. There are days when nothing seems to move forward, when the right answer isn’t obvious or when you wonder whether you’re making any progress at all.
I’ve actually come to believe that’s exactly how it should feel.
The problems facing higher education today are incredibly complex. If the work were easy, someone would have solved it already. The moments that have shaped my career haven’t been the comfortable ones. They’ve been the moments where I had to learn something completely new, walk into a room where I wasn’t the smartest person there or say yes to an opportunity before I felt completely ready.
The way you get through those moments is the people you surround yourself with. Josh, I’m privileged to call you one of those people. When I started at Dartmouth, three months postpartum after moving to a new state with a newborn and stepping into my first real strategic role, I felt way (waaaay!) out of my depth. I still remember your encouragement during those early days. You saw something in me before I saw it in myself, and with good people like you in my corner, I found the confidence to stay relentlessly curious and keep going.
One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned is that careers are far less linear than we pretend they are. If you had asked me as a religion major at Tufts where I’d end up, I certainly wouldn’t have predicted Harvard Business School, Dartmouth, Kaplan, Huron, mentoring ed-tech founders or helping convene conversations across the learning ecosystem. Every meaningful pivot in my career started with curiosity and a conversation, not a master plan.
So my advice is simple: Stay curious. Meet people whose jobs look nothing like yours. Build relationships before you need them, because you never know which conversation will change the trajectory of your career. Volunteer for projects that scare you. Become the person who asks one more question instead of pretending to have one more answer (even if you think it’s a stupid question. As my dad likes to say, “There are no stupid questions, only stupid people.” Hey … now!).
Most of all, remember that careers are built over decades, not quarters. The title you have today matters far less than the reputation you’re building and the person you’re becoming.
