"I really can't imagine what your life has been like," said one of my oldest friends after we had a chance to visit during a recent post-retirement celebration. Years ago, with fresh Ph.D.'s in hand, we had started climbing the academic ladder at the same university at the same time. He remained there as a professor for about 40 years while I chose a different path -- leading to a migratory administrative career.
Many of my faculty friends and colleagues have spent entire careers at one college or university. This deep sinking of roots -- personal, community, and professional -- is enviable in some respects to someone like me who, after leaving graduate school, served at five universities in four states. Some colleagues have chosen permanence; a few have become campus legends among students and have developed deep friendships.
Those who did not seek such permanence, but for various reasons had been unable to move, often say they feel trapped. Tenure may eliminate the fear of being fired, but essentially you are stuck forever unless you are (l) willing to forgo tenure in order to make a change, (2) such a star in your field that many institutions would like to recruit you, (3) a player in a very high-demand field or, more commonly, (4) ready to take an administrative post.
An administrative post is no guarantee of mobility, of course, but it is a major characteristic of such positions. Most academic administrators have a short tenure largely because of impossible job expectations and the seemingly endless campus search for "new" leadership. Successful administrators either will tire of the routine and seek new opportunities or be vigorously pursued by headhunters for other institutions.
The administrative life appears to be an easily acquired taste and usually includes a higher salary and other rewarding perks. The ambitious administrator, though usually eligible to return to the classroom full time, is likely to move on to a higher and better-paying administrative post elsewhere.
In my own case, after 13 years of full-time teaching I became a department chairman, which whetted my appetite for administration. I then became dean of arts and sciences, (one of the most difficult jobs but the best learning experience on any campus), followed by vice-president for academic affairs (an unparalleled education in the totality of campus life), and finally took a broadly defined, professionally satisfying provost's position in a marvelous location.
Each administrative post was at a different institution. Each move involved a substantial increase in income. Each position put me further from my discipline, making a return to the faculty unlikely. (See So You Want to Be an Administrator?
Administrative roots are planted and pulled on almost every campus each academic year. While the faculty job market is spotty in most fields, administrators are in demand because each administrative move generates another move, ad infinitum. Witness the large number of ads for academic administrators in The Chronicle of Higher Education.
Professionally and personally, moves can be exciting, adventurous, and even flattering. But moves can impose heavy professional and personal costs as well. Making a move often involves undergoing one of the toughest selection procedures imaginable -- the academic search process. You put yourself at risk, because the confidentiality promised during the search is often broken. A rejection can be painful and may result in changed relationships when your colleagues and superiors learn that you have been on the market. A positive result is exhilarating.
High on the plus side of switching institutions is the "fresh-start" syndrome, something each of us desires from time to time. Past follies, foibles, embarrassments, and uncomfortable relationships are left behind, at least until you stack up a new set. Your arrival will be heralded on campus and, in a small campus town, the local community. You will receive hordes of invitations from students and faculty members for campus and off-campus events. The "honeymoon" benefits of deference and widespread politeness will prop you up for quite a while.
Conversely, a negative turn of events can leave you isolated and sorry you moved. Dramatic and unanticipated changes in key leadership positions, for example, may negate all the positive aspects that drew you to a job, a situation I unhappily experienced shortly after one move. It also is wise to remember that faculty members are long-standing, permanent residents and that administrators are usually neither, giving each a somewhat different perspective on life. It is not unusual for even long-serving administrators to be treated as non-native guests who need to learn the local customs.
On the personal side, you may experience a crisis depending upon your family status and the length of time spent in your last job. Long-distance moving correctly is regarded as one of life's most stressful events. You and your family lose familiar bearings, friends, and community identities. The severity varies for each member of the family, but all but the youngest children will find themselves strangers in a strange land.
While this social isolation is temporary, it needs to be taken into account as a major price of professional mobility. New administrators will have a difficult time making personal friends on campus, and there may be little time for activities off campus for the development of community relationships.
If you have children, particularly of middle- or high-school age, you will likely meet some resistance from them to any move. Each time I moved, friends asked how my children felt about it. My admittedly controversial answer was that I did not seek their opinion on the professional advantages or disadvantages of a career change.
Children cannot and should not bear the burden of such a decision or, as I have seen happen, become scapegoats for missed opportunities. As millions of military brats, corporate families, and itinerant academics have discovered, most children adjust to and benefit from changing environments.
Some of my academic friends who sought to move but never succeeded view their careers as disappointing. In many cases, they felt unappreciated and dreamed of positions at more prestigious institutions. These longings for different pastures negatively affected their attitudes toward many aspects of their lives. Many studies of academic life reveal general satisfaction with the choice of an academic career but dissatisfaction with one's professional visibility, career options, and institutional status. Is it possible that an end to the tenure system would result not in mass firings as is sometimes suggested, but in large numbers of voluntary job changes to more-compatible environments?
I value the variety of professional experiences I enjoyed, and the incredible opportunities for service afforded by academic administration. My family has appreciated the variety of communities in which we lived, from lovely campus towns to some of the nation's most exciting cities. But I would be less than candid not to confess some envy of my friend's comfortable stability, durable and readily accessible friendships, and his total lack of confusion about where his "home" is.
