Dream Job; Nightmare Board

The writer is a current president

My first presidency was a failure. 

At least, that’s how I think of it, despite the fact that most outside observers considered it a success, including the institution that subsequently hired me as its leader.

I had worked closely with three presidents and thought I had a good understanding of the role and what I could accomplish. I found my dream job: a university in a desirable location with a diverse student body and a strong tradition of focusing on student success. I fell in love with the institution before I ever talked with anyone there. 

In that first presidency, I made many mistakes. The first was I never talked with any of the presidents I knew well about the dirty details of their job. Having come up through the faculty ranks, I didn’t realize how little I understood about working with boards.

My immediate predecessor had been fired after less than a year and was suing the university. While that should have been a warning, he had made some well-documented mistakes. I felt a little smug until I learned not everything he had been blamed for was his fault. His immediate predecessor was still around, and we talked on occasion. However, we were opposites in virtually every way.

Even with good boards, there are plenty of challenges. Few members have any direct experience in higher education. And even when trustees understand their role, people in the community with whom board members often have long-term relationships approach them with problems that should come to the president. It’s a lot to manage.

From my first interviews, I walked away from meetings with trustees feeling I had not done well. Ever self-critical, I believed the uncomfortable interactions were my fault. When the search firm told me the board was struggling between me and another candidate, I was not surprised. 

When an offer came, however, I was delighted. Later I learned I got the job only after negotiations with the other person broke down. 

The beginning of my presidency was relatively normal. I conducted assessments and began making changes. As I approached my mid-year review, I felt good. I had done everything I said I would and thought it would be a short meeting. 

It was not. 

For more than four hours the board criticized me, about who I sat with at athletic events, the expectations I was setting for the vice presidents—all of whom they thought were terrible. A few months later, the next meeting was worse. At the end of the first day, the board decided to go into executive session for a self-assessment. Great! Maybe that would help our relationship.

The next day was six more hours of criticism. I was, they said, unwilling to do things they were sure would work. That night I told my wife I had real doubts that my first presidency was going to work out. 

An optimist by nature, for the next couple of years I convinced myself things would get better. One of the challenges of a large board is they are often not all on the same page. A small number of board members were always supportive and for a period I heard more from them. I deluded myself into believing the others shared their views. 

I had come into the position with some great leadership team members and had the opportunity to recruit others. I had strong support from faculty, staff, students, alumni, donors, foundation board members, and community leaders. You can do a lot with that kind of backing. I was hopeful, so when, in my second year, I received an unsolicited presidency offer for more money, I turned it down. [Ed's note: fool!]

By the end of my third year, the relationship with the board had worsened. I heard complaints about everything from the goals of the widely accepted strategic plan to the new logo.  

During my last 12 months, we had successes in fundraising, freshman enrollment, and increasing faculty and staff diversity. We had received national recognition, which we promoted widely. Still, the chair told me the board was not pleased. 

Presenting great budget news for the prior fiscal year provoked the angriest reaction I ever saw from board members. Their fury showed on their faces, and they scolded me, demanding to know why they hadn’t heard that report at our previous meeting. I responded it was because I did not know then and, in fact, no one could have known—we were still in that fiscal year. 

Over time, I realized the board just didn’t like me. I was not their kind of guy. At one point, they gave me a list of areas for improvement. It was clear I would have to become an entirely different leader, and person, to satisfy them. 

And to be honest, most of them were not my type of people either. They seemed to enjoy making those they felt superior to uncomfortable. Board membership seemed to be about personal status; their decisions were driven by what was good for them and not what would serve the university and its constituents.

Our differences on institutional goals spoke to differences in values. While I am not a member of any marginalized group, a commitment to DEI runs through everything I do. I frequently heard the board was unhappy with the high percentage of racialized ethnic minorities among our students. At one public meeting, the chair argued that “diversity” efforts should focus on recruiting more wealthy white men. When we hired the institution’s first African-American dean with overwhelming campus support, the board complained a “more qualified” white male was not considered. 

The board’s displeasure extended to all areas of the university and board members generally believed they understood these matters better than professionals in those fields. Any divergence from their wishes was seen as insubordination. The chair said, “When we give a directive, we expect it to be followed.”

By the time the board informed me they would not renew my contract, I was relieved. I’d been reluctant to leave because I didn’t want to let my colleagues down and desert people I’d recruited to a dysfunctional place. Lest you think I’m exaggerating the challenges, note: my former employer has had six presidents in just over 10 years. 

I found another presidency six months later, one in which I am happy, and with a board that is supportive of me and the other administrators, puts the institution’s interests first, and while actively engaged, understands its role.