First Person

Adventures in Academic Affairs

Article tools

Printer friendly	E-mail article	Subscribe	Order reprints
	Discuss any Chronicle article in our forums
Latest Headlines An Academic in America On Stupidity, Part 2 Exactly how should we teach the 'digital natives'? First Person Polished Applications Nothing stunts civility like graduate-student insecurities and competition. gift. Career News Fish in the Shallows Stanley Fish would like professors to impart knowledge without viewpoint. Even if that were possible, it would be undesirable. gift. First Person The Welcome Mat On his first day on the job, an assistant professor is handed an unusual gift. Resource Salaries: Faculty | Administrative Presidential pay: Private | Public Financial resources: Salary and cost-of-living calculators Career resources: Academic | Nonacademic Library: Previous articles by topic | by date | by column Career Talk, Ms. Mentor, and more... Landing your first job On the tenure track Mid-career and on Administrative careers Nonacademic careers for Ph.D.'s Talk about your career Blogs

By Milton Herman

I can't say that I planned a career in campus administration. It seemed to just happen. After teaching for a few decades in the performing arts, I began being tapped by my university to handle major town-gown projects with the local community. I'm not sure if it was because I was viewed as an effective representative of the campus, or just as someone who would take on time-consuming jobs that no one else wanted to do.

Then one day, the newly appointed vice president for academic affairs came to me and asked, "How would you like to apply to work with me in academic affairs?" Remembering that old show-biz adage -- say yes to anything and figure it out later -- I uttered a quivering "yes." Soon after, the vice president posted the position of assistant vice president for academic affairs, held interviews, and offered me the job. Literally overnight, I stepped from the faculty to a senior appointment in university administration.

To say that nothing prepared me for the wild ride ahead would be an understatement. Sometimes I felt like the astronaut in 2001: A Space Odyssey, traveling at light speed as the colors rushed by. The four years I spent in the assistant vice president's position were highly charged, always interesting, and often frustrating. It literally required a 24/7 commitment, with numerous vacation plans abandoned in the wake of challenges, internal disasters (almost always the result of poor communication), and numerous things wacky.

Before I took the job, no one told me that the assistant VP's role was to serve as the "hammer" for the vice president in dealing with the deans. Any bad news or unsavory dealings that the VP saw coming were often guided my way. My world grew more solitary as the vice president seldom had time to meet. I needed a scorecard to track the comings and goings of deans. This cadre of leaders passed through a revolving door of resignations, departures for other positions, and the ubiquitous "return to the classroom."

For a while, I continued to think of myself as a faculty member, but that impression proved faulty as e-mail messages began to arrive from faculty "colleagues" that no parent would ever want a child to see. These messages seemed either to criticize our new initiatives, or to complain about a lack of new initiatives.

As I met other administrators in similar positions, I realized I was unusual in that I had never served as a department chairman or as an assistant or associate dean. With very limited guidance from mentors, a cadre of (mostly) angry deans, and a fairly dour faculty, I set out to succeed with the best of intentions and a 100 percent commitment.

Four years later, I have made the decision to return to my tenured position as a faculty member. I did this for several reasons: first and foremost, so that I would have enough time to focus on searching for a deanship. My time in the vice president's office was tantamount to taking an experiential graduate course that could have been called "Deanship 501." I think I'm ready to be a dean.

Another key factor motivating my decision: My university hired a new vice president for academic affairs. I learned, too late, that when vice presidents change, it's a good time to dust off your vita, and I feel very fortunate that I was able to do this on my terms. (More on that topic in a future article.

My departure from the assistant vice presidency was as abrupt as my entrance, and I've never looked back. Colleagues from outside the institution lately have asked me, "Why didn't you stay in your administrative position while searching for another one?" But the job was all consuming, and I never would have had time to conduct a proper search. Meanwhile, faculty colleagues within the institution have been asking, "Why didn't you do this sooner?" I'm never quite sure what they mean by that: Do they see administrative work as distasteful? Or are they suggesting that I did such a bad job that they are happy I am out of there?

I actually started searching for a deanship last year, and attracted the attention of a very strong and financially well-positioned institution. The search committee checked my references, interviewed me during a conference call, and arranged a campus visit for me.

During that visit, things went very well for the first two days. The last two items on my agenda were a late-afternoon meeting with the faculty of the college, followed by a one-on-one talk with the president.

My handlers had told me that the faculty session would be more like a reception, and not to worry about making a formal presentation. After I made a few introductory remarks, the professors came out swinging, obviously unhappy with what they had heard about my vision for their college. Although I kept a smile on my face, it was not a pleasant scene. Afterward, limping to the car of the search committee member who was going to drive me to the president's office, I slumped into the passenger's seat and said, "Well, I guess that's it. I'm pretty much finished as a viable candidate." She looked surprised and said, "You were great -- you should have seen what they did to the last guy."

Ultimately, I was not offered the job, though I did come very close. (Search committees probably say that to everyone.)

So I'm back in search mode, and things are going well. I have been receiving invitations to apply for various deanships (based on letters of nomination). Of the three positions open in my discipline, I'm on the short list for two, with an airport interview coming up in two weeks.

Are there constraints on my quest? None to speak of, professionally. I am both ready and restless, willing to go just about anywhere that I can make a difference. However, I do have a spouse who loves her job, so that may prove a stumbling block. She is in the final year of a grant-financed project. Do I wish her well in securing additional grant money, or hope that her project fades away quietly so that we can move to another location without her having to make a career sacrifice? We also have two children who are young enough for a move but old enough to miss their friends.

The "season" is just beginning and it promises to be an adventure-filled year.