What’s on Presidents’ Minds These Days?

From Rachel Toor

To our friends in Utah: know that we are thinking about you as you do the hard work to provide strength and comfort for your communities. To everyone else: what comes next is going to be challenging and scary. Let me know if there are ways we can help support you.

***

In April 2023, when The Sandbox was just a twinkle in the eyes of my erstwhile work wife Doug Lederman and me, we found ourselves at a dinner at the ACE annual meeting with a doughnut box of presidents and chancellors.

One of them, a brash guy in his second year on the job I immediately felt comfortable treating like a brother, said, “I have a house with a big table. I’d like to host dinners like this, but I don’t know who would be interested in coming.”

Last week we had our first official Sandbox Roundtable, co-hosted by still-brash Jonathan Koppell at Montclair State University. We dined with 10 presidents from a buffet of institutions on campus in the Yogi Berra Museum, where the walls are festooned with Yogi-isms like, “When you see a fork in the road, take it.” During the tour, a president leaned over and whispered to me, “That’s a good motto for leaders.” Better to decide than to dither.

President Koppell often accuses me of hating when presidents brag about their achievements. I have to ~~smack him down~~ gently correct him. Nope. I love it when people come into the IHE office to tell us about the wonderful happenings on their campuses. And I do hate it that we don’t cover happy stories and highlight best practices. It’s a tragedy that there are so few places where presidents, especially from diverse institutions, can get together to share ideas and think collaboratively.

What I don’t like, however, is the inability to drop the cheerleader pom-poms and think beyond your own walls when you’re with peers or talking about the broader landscape. I don’t like it when every sentence a president utters in front of colleagues starts with “What I’ve managed to do here is …”

So I teed up a question for the group. As a writer, I am motivated by envy. I love reading books or essays I wished I’d written. So I asked: What innovation at another institution makes you jealous? What cool thing do you wish you could copy?

We didn’t get very far (conversational drift is real) but this Brady Bunch/Breakfast Club got real and reflective about the attacks on higher ed and how we got to where we are now and talked candidly about successes and failures, doubts and concerns. We heard about ~~being grilled~~ testifying in front of Congress, leading an institution back from the edge of closure, and innovative ideas about what “college” might be in the future, and discovered a boatload of fun facts about each other.

Among the things I heard this week from the attendees was that one left “excited and inspired to lead,” and another wrote, “We don’t get enough time to connect with other presidents and just speak candidly. I felt like given time, I could be friends with some of them and that’s what we really need: a way to connect and build friendships.” I did a little matchmaking and connected that president with an attendee from a completely different type of institution. I suspect it will be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

I’ll bring back the prompt about envy at future Sandbox events.

Which are coming soon. Next month, at the US Universities Summit, we’ll have Sandbox Rroundtable sessions for our Insiders. You’ll have to RSVP, and there will be no baseball, no wine. (Sorry.) If you have ideas about what should be on the table to discuss at these small Chatham House–ruled sessions, bring them on.

Speaking of bringing it on, we got a lot of feedback on the issue of who is a “nontraditional” president. It’s great to get conversations rolling here in the safety of The Sandbox. I’ve shared some responses below.

And I reached out to see how peeps were feeling about ~~the coming storm of who knows what fresh hell~~ the new academic year. Here are some of those responses as well. (I am pleased to tell you that at least one president was feeling good enough to push back on my characterization of what was in store.)

Presidents, please continue to reach out to me with questions, comments, and criticism (and even compliments for your anonymous peers) and know that we want your contributions.

Traditional? What’s That?

Readers respond.

I always wonder if there were ever very many traditional presidents. Over the centuries, most were white and all (!!) were male. Many were academics, but others were businesspeople or clergy or, in the early days, a politician or two. Some “academics” were really student affairs specialists or lifelong administrators. Most were from very different institutions than ours.

Not one met all the expectations for who a president should be, much less what he should do. Some disappointed the board and didn’t last long. Others disappointed the faculty or the students or the alumni. Some were gregarious fundraisers, others were antisocial but industrious; some were visible on the sidelines of football games; others no student ever came to know; some engaged in intellectual debate with the faculty, while one told me he learned early on that, to get anything done, he needed to avoid all faculty meetings entirely.

I know I mostly look like a traditional president (tall, white, and male, but without the presidential hair). But in fact I did not follow the traditional path. I am the change agent the board wants, not the colleague the faculty wants or the friend the students want or the spokesperson and fundraiser the alumni want (though after three times the national average in the job, I can fake it). Yes, I know presidents who might look from afar like they fit a common image of a university president, but I can’t think of a single colleague I know well who I would characterize as “traditional."

***

I think you should explore this issue more deeply. I have always been considered a nontraditional candidate/president even though I have an earned doctorate and a publication record that, at least, equals the average college professor. I am nontraditional because I once worked outside academe and I did not come up through the professorial ranks (specifically, I did not earn tenure). However, I think I am one of the least nontraditional nontraditional presidents. I think this is a time for really nontraditional presidents, especially alumni and those who have been successful nonprofit leaders, to step into the job.

***

I really appreciated hearing about a nontraditional president. I’ve always wondered why the proportion of women presidents has persistently remained below 30 percent even though women have earned more Ph.D.s than men since the ’90s. One thought was the inherent conservatism in searches. At first glance, one could easily say, sure, sexism, sure, racism. What else is new?

But I think there was something else going on, specifically, the idea that women presidents could only come from specific roles in the academy, namely provosts and deans. In other words, the academic side of the house. Whereas, men from other parts of the academy—as well as outside of it—could be presidents more than women in those roles. Bottom line: Is there an unhidden bias that disadvantages women and people of color?

***

I liked the focus on nontraditional presidents, though I was left wondering what “nontraditional” means in the diverse context of American higher ed. When I was in [X], the backgrounds of our private college presidents were all over the map: only two of us had “traditional” academic backgrounds; some were from the advancement side; some were from corporate/business backgrounds; and the others were ministers.

Facing Academic Year 2025–26

The writers are all current presidents.

After nearly a decade of serving as president, it probably is natural to be thinking about retirement. But even thinking about it is complicated. I often wonder if I am diminishing my effectiveness as president by simultaneously thinking about retiring.

On bad days at work, when for the umpteenth time a legislative leader has denounced higher education and our state’s universities as the cause of all ills in society, and when draconian laws are passed and we have to implement them, or when I meet with our leadership team to discuss layoffs and whether we can afford 90 days’ separation pay or 120 days, I wonder why I am still doing this job, followed immediately by feeling guilty for not devoting all of my attention to the problems and challenges at hand.

I am pretty sure our trustees want me to stay on for three to four more years, and I think most would say I am still effective in the job. The magical moments of the job are still there: commencements, move-in days, beaming with pride when faculty receive national and international recognitions, and the buzz I feel after attending university theater and other arts events.

Maybe I should stay on, because it feels weird when finalizing a construction project or campus improvement plan to think that I won’t be here when they are inaugurated. And maybe I should stay on because it feels like failure to abandon ship in the face of the challenges and opportunities of the moment.

***

What is on my mind? That I am grateful to be on a college campus. Young people have optimism and belief in the future, and although they don’t know how yet, they want to contribute to making the world a better place. I work at a campus where about 90 percent of our staff and faculty believe in what we do and the importance of the role that we play in changing lives. We don’t always agree, but the fact that I and my colleagues are always working towards the same goal of serving students and our community is a luxurious way to work every day.

***

Yes, this is the craziest time for higher education in my 15 years as a president. My most frustrating days come when those who have benefited from college attack the very sector which helped them. As a first-generation college graduate myself, I live the opportunity that higher ed offers. I keep my fingers crossed for better days ahead for higher ed but know that I am lucky to work at an institution that is clear-eyed to the changes needed in order to continue to serve its students.

***

I am trying to be cheerful and upbeat as we kick off the year and students move in this weekend. It ain’t easy.

Why is no one talking about the fact that the freeze/cuts in research funding at the R-1 institutions are jeopardizing the next generation of scientists in training? Also, humanities and the next generation of the professoriate. Ph.D. programs can’t commit to funding students for five to seven years when their funding is frozen, cut, or uncertain.

We are part of a larger higher education system, and a disruption in any part affects us all. To state the obvious, when one institution increases the size of its entering class to offset losses in research dollars, or another dips deeper into its applicant pool to replace declining international enrollments, or others offer significant tuition discounts to secure incoming classes in a volatile market, it ripples across the sector.

Two things I find remarkable/frustrating in different ways. 1) Internally, faculty read headlines and say to themselves, “That does not impact us so I don’t need to worry, support change, etc.” As a result, the idea of our own exceptionalism continues. And 2) we tend to so narrowly define our ecosystems such that we are not talking to one another and planning for a new future in higher ed that is more inclusive of different learners.

When was the last time an elite liberal arts college or R-1 was in the room with a community college or a technical college—what are we waiting for? We have to see each other as part of a whole integrated ecosystem working together to educate this country rather than as siloed institutions fighting for our own survival.

***

Returning from vacation, I felt rested and rejuvenated. I even had a plan for how to include renewal practices throughout the year to better manage the stress and pace of the job (last semester was probably my hardest, and I started just before the pandemic began, so that is saying something).

And then, it all came crashing down. We had many wonderful things to celebrate, but then the crises began to hit. We had run out of residential housing (a great thing!), but rain and heat had caused mold issues, threatening to cause major problems for move-in day (in the end, minus two spaces, all was OK).

Our campaign beat its goal by a lot, but permitting had delayed an important construction project that had been publicly announced and would have to be punted a whole year. We received approval to launch a doctoral program, both from our institutional and programmatic accreditors, but we also had a former student threaten to sue us for racial discrimination (she’s white).

To be honest, the list of challenges kept getting longer: Physical plant staff thought they had radiation poisoning (after testing, they didn’t get it from campus), a faculty member is accusing another faculty member in their department of stalking them and refuses to be on campus with this person (still ongoing and classes start Monday), and three bats were in the presidential home this weekend.

And did I mention that my contract negotiations have begun? So much for feeling rested and rejuvenated.

This resource is available only to Insider members

What’s on Presidents’ Minds These Days?

The Sandbox

Traditional? What’s That?

Facing Academic Year 2025–26

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