I'm happy to report that I've been very busy in my quest to land a deanship. I decided to go on the market after serving for four years as an assistant vice president of academic affairs. Since my first column, I've traveled to both coasts and the Deep South for interviews.
In just a three-week span, I've flown in for the infamous 90-minute airport interview; done the two-day campus visit (well, actually, it amounted to four days with travel on both ends and food poisoning incurred on the second day, but more about that later); and had three phone interviews with search firms and five with search-committee members, including a cold call that turned into a job interview.
I prepared extensively for my interviews with the search firms, but two of the three came up dry. Meanwhile, the cold call -- for which I was totally unprepared -- resulted in an invitation to a full-fledged campus interview. Go figure.
I even added a new type of interview to my repertoire: One of the search firms set up my first interview via video conference. It went smoothly from my perspective but sadly did not lead to an on-campus visit.
It did, however, provide me with an opportunity that every candidate should have -- the chance to be debriefed post-interview by a search firm. This particular outfit sent me a very gracious e-mail thanking me for my participation, but informing me that I had not made the shortlist. Then, much to my surprise, came a follow-up call and a valuable discussion about my performance during the interview. The consultant told me why my candidacy hadn't advanced, gave me the names of the four finalists, and offered to put me in touch with the new dean, once he or she was hired. The consultant's message seemed to be that I had potential, which was nice to hear in the rough-and-tumble business of interviewing.
At the other end of the spectrum was the interview in which a very seasoned and well-respected dean on the campus held up my CV and said, "You've had all of the bad jobs, it seems -- the ones that no one else would want." So much for the "rich experience" that I bring from four years in academic affairs. All I could do was emphasize the advantages that I would bring as a problem solver, facilitator, mediator, and champion for teaching excellence and student learning. He didn't look convinced. Next question?
Whenever the phone rings lately, I breathe deeply and remind myself that I have probably heard every type of interview question. And yet I'm always surprised.
In all of my conversations with hiring committees and search firms, leadership has been a consistent theme. What I've noticed is that while they all say that they're looking for good leaders, their definition of leadership is highly variable.
The job descriptions almost always describe the desired candidate as someone with a collaborative management style, a consensus builder. But the questions asked by hiring-committee members seemed to indicate a yearning for a benevolent dictator: "What would you do with deadwood faculty members?" "Our department hasn't had an increase for equipment and expenses for five years; what would you do about that?" "Are you going to support the art museum?" (What art museum?) "Would you be able to stand up to the administration?" "How do you make the tough decisions?"
The topper was a job ad that called for candidates with vision and innovation, which I believed, until a member of the search committee privately shared with one of my references, "We have many traditions here and we are afraid that he might make too many changes."
By comparison, the students I met during the interview process were straight shooters. "Just what does a dean do, anyway?" asked one undergraduate. The provost and several faculty members were on hand to witness my stab at that one. During another interview, the students had very specific concerns about the curriculum. That led to a wonderful discussion about what I could do as dean to help make their academic and creative experiences more relevant and current.
It wasn't all fun this time around on the interview circuit. I broke one of my personal rules: Don't eat during the interview. Sound strange? I usually take a good supply of energy bars and eat them in between meetings. That way I can talk during the meals that are often crucial opportunities to communicate.
On Day 1 of my interview at a small, selective private college, I broke that rule. I had a stir-fried vegetarian dish in the institution's very upscale dining service and the next day woke up quite ill. I never shared that fact with anyone, except my student escort who took me to a nearby drugstore between sessions and whom I swore to secrecy. I must have looked pretty green, but I didn't want to put a bad stomach and dehydration into the interview mix.
So, where do things stand today? I'm waiting to hear the outcome of my interview at the selective private college (although my hopes on that front have dimmed as the days go by with no word). I'm also waiting to hear about the results of an on-campus interview that went very well at another institution. During that one, I met individually with the president and the provost, and attended a reception with donors. It was the kind of interview where all of my interactions with people seemed to click.
Will I have a job in hand by my next installment? The way things are going, I think that April will probably be the up-or-down, in-or-out moment.
My wife and I haven't told our children about the exact nature of all this activity. They are enjoying the sweatshirts that I'm bringing back from my trips. We've agreed not to even think, or talk, about moving until I have an actual offer on the table, and a return trip to my new employer scheduled. That seems to be the only way to maintain sanity.
At this point, all I can advise is that you read the job description with plenty of imagination, stick with the Balance bars, and stay away from the Kung Pao vegetables.
