From Rachel Toor
Several readers asked to see the mission statement from the president who wrote for us last week. Here’s what I can tell you: That long-serving president, a so-called nontraditional hire from industry, is fully aligned with his institution’s mission. His college knows exactly what it is and who it serves. The statement reflects that niche.
Most of the rest of us? We’re still clinging to the cliché of being all things to all people. That’s why mission statements so often sound like BS crafted by committees or stale marketing copy.
Here’s my suggestion for a mission statement: Broadly educate citizens who leave with degrees, without tons of debt, ready to find meaningful work. But that doesn’t sound academic enough. And most presidents are steeped in the tea of academe. Which is great. When I talk with faculty-turned-leaders—especially in fields I know well from my past life as an acquisitions editor—I think: my peeps! But being a historian or classicist doesn’t necessarily equip you to run a nonprofit business. And like it or not, that’s what a university is.
Leaders who do have those skills often get branded “nontraditional,” even including those who rose through student affairs or advancement.
A recent book, The New College President, by Terrence J. MacTaggart and Eileen B. Wilson-Oyelaran, profiles seven such leaders. If they’d been ballplayers in the minors, the old-school scouts lampooned in Michael Lewis’s Moneyball would have passed them over. Those scouts trusted their gut—they just knew who had “it.” They were wrong. MacTaggart and Wilson-Oyelaran suggest that search firms and trustees may be wrong, too.
In higher ed, having “it” still means the right academic pedigree. A CV as long as a 19th-century Russian novel? Ability to effortlessly quote Aristotle at a donor dinner? Meanwhile, candidates who might actually know how to manage a budget crisis, navigate board politics, or connect with first-generation students get sidelined for not fitting the part.
But what if the skills that matter now—crisis management, authentic communication, adaptability—aren’t the ones boards are hiring for? Even when they do take a chance on a leader who doesn’t look like your father’s college president, she often meets resistance (or hostility) from faculty chanting, “You’re not the boss of me.”
Billy Beane’s analytics-driven approach in Moneyball faced the same pushback: “That’s not how baseball works!” In academe, the chorus is “But they’ve never been a provost!” or “They don’t understand shared governance!” As if those are the only skills that matter.
Maybe it’s time higher ed had its own Moneyball moment. Instead of dismissing “nontraditional” leaders, what if we recognized them as undervalued assets? What if their varied experiences are exactly what our institutions need to adapt and thrive?
And what if, when we ask them about their leadership, we stopped signaling that we’re the ones clinging hardest to the past?
I just talked to someone who retired from a Big Deal Job, had been on the board of a college, and is now leading it. He doesn't need the work or the money, but is having a blast making bold changes that have brought his institution incredible success. The weirdnesses of shared governance and the unwillingness to change? He's saying screw it and getting stuff done. It was one of the most exciting conversations I've had in a while.
Below, some thoughts from another successful—if nontraditional—former president.
