When did you first declare that you would become a community college president?
For me, it was the summer of 2004, in the cafeteria at Lone Star College–Kingwood, surrounded by a few classmates and my work-study supervisor, just hours before earning my associate of arts degree. That declaration was born out of a deep sense of gratitude for the faculty, administrators and work-study supervisors who had spent two years mentoring me, encouraging me and helping me see possibilities for my life that I had not yet fully imagined for myself.
Like many community college students, I worked several jobs to support my academic journey. During my first semester, I worked overnight at George Bush Intercontinental Airport in Houston, receiving and redistributing mail, packages and shipments from 10 p.m. to 6 a.m. When my shift ended, I would drive to campus, clean myself up in a community college restroom and prepare for my 8 a.m. class. When that schedule was no longer sustainable, I took another job at a Sysco distribution center in a nearby city, moving perishable food through refrigerators and freezers.
I can still remember standing there in full-body thermal gear — hat, goggles, gloves and all — moving pallets of food from 18-wheelers into freezer storage and quietly reminding myself that all of this hard work would one day pay off.
It did.
This article is part of a monthly column in Community College Daily by Mordecai Ian Brownlee, president of the Community College of Aurora in Colorado. Read previous column articles.
Back in that cafeteria, I remember asking my work-study supervisor a question that, in many ways, changed the trajectory of my life.
“What is the job that helps the lightbulb come on for everybody?”
She looked at me and said, “Everybody?”
“Yes,” I replied. “If it weren’t for all of you helping me see my potential, giving me advice and believing in me, I wouldn’t have made it this far. What job lets you do that for a lot of people?”
She shrugged her shoulders and said, “Maybe become the college president. That’s a job where you can help a lot of people.”
My response was simple: “Okay. That’s what I’ll do.”
I did not know a community college president. No one in my family had ever served as a college president. I had no roadmap or immediate examples to follow, and very little understanding of what the job actually required. But that declaration gave my life direction and my journey purpose. Even during some of my most challenging life experiences, that declaration served as my North Star.
Seventeen years later, I became the proud sixth president of the Community College of Aurora. The title was something I had pursued for years. The lessons that came with it, however, could only be learned by sitting in the chair.
Five key lessons
For those who have followed my reflections after my first and third years in the presidency, this installment marks a different moment. Five years is long enough to move beyond the newness of the position. It is long enough to experience successes and disappointments, make difficult decisions and live with their consequences, substantially advance the institutional mission, and realize that presidential leadership is about far more than a title.
As I reflect on my first five years as a community college president, these five lessons stand above the rest:
Respond at the speed the situation requires.
Not everything is urgent. Treating everything as urgent not only creates unnecessary pressure on you, but it also sets an organizational tone that fosters a reactionary, non-strategically led institutional culture. However, it takes wisdom and discernment to know when a matter should be declared urgent, prioritized, delegated or when it requires your direct presence and attention. Whether it’s a campus crisis, an interested donor, a concerned parent or a frustrated elected official, situations in the presidency will abound, and a one-size-fits-all leadership response will eventually fail.
As quickly as possible, learn the facts surrounding the matter, place those facts in proper context, refer to your institutional mission and values to guide decision-making and involve the right team members to promote collaboration. Lastly, remember that every decision you make communicates something to your college community. Make sure you’re communicating the right thing.
Don’t compare your journey to anyone else’s.
Success is surrounded by comparison, and if you are not careful, comparison can rob you of your joy. Embrace your journey for what it is, and if you are not pleased with the results, know that you have the autonomy to make changes to achieve the results you desire. As simple as that may sound, it is not that easy for everyone.
Some of the most successful people I have worked with and observed over the years can also be some of the most insecure people behind the scenes. Left unchecked, those insecurities can send leaders down a road of power plays, position jockeying, wasted time and money, and a never-ending quest to chase the next leadership cohort, conference, title or public affirmation that signals relevance.
You do not need someone or some program to validate your value. You do not need to spend more time than necessary away from your family and things you love chasing another conference, position or label that will fade with time. Learn to embrace the beauty of your journey. It is okay to study the paths of others. Learn from them. Be inspired by them. But, do not allow someone else’s path to become the benchmark by which you measure your own.
A therapist is just as important as an executive coach.
Some of us have pursued executive coaches and mentors when we should have pursued a licensed professional counselor and therapist instead. Becoming a college president does not make someone whole. A title does not resolve grief, insecurity, loss, abandonment, disappointment or the wounds we may have carried into leadership.
The real caution is not simply to recognize that our mental health is more important than our professional health. It is that failing to care for our mental health can eventually affect the lives of the people we are entrusted to lead.
As college presidents, we have significant latitude to shape the everyday lived experiences and livelihoods of those who serve or are served by the institution. At any time, situations can trigger hurt, grief, anger, insecurity, fear, trauma, etc., that can directly impact your perception, responses and decision-making. In other words, our hurts can create hurts. Our discomforts can create discomfort.
That is why I encourage everyone to do as I have done: employ a licensed counselor or therapist as part of your personal support system. An executive coach can help you think about how you lead the institution. A therapist can help you understand what leading the institution is doing to you and to others. Everyone deserves to heal – and that includes you.
Lead the community you have, not the community you imagined.
As educators, and especially community college presidents, we have an ethical and moral obligation to provide service in direct alignment with our respective institutional missions to all those who have sought to be served. We have a responsibility to be aware of and informed about the environmental realities that directly affect our learners and fellow educators, and account for those realities within our strategic plans in a way that enables the institution to leverage resources appropriately to remove such barriers to increase educational accessibility, improve the student experience and advance student success.
Leadership requires us to never lose sight of who we serve and the challenges they face. We must leverage our networks, resources, partnerships, influence, data, philanthropy, public policy and community relationships to remove barriers and expand opportunity. The community existed before you arrived, and it will remain after you leave.
Your responsibility is not to remake the community in your image. It is to embrace who you serve, where you serve and the era in which you are serving. It is to help the institution become more responsive to the people who call that community home. Do so with humility and excellence, and calibrate your systems and student experiences to directly address these opportunities in a relevant and impactful way.
This too shall pass.
This lesson has two sides. First, no matter the situation, maintain your integrity at all times, stay aligned with the institutional mission, let your institutional values guide your decisions and remember that time has a way of changing the weight of even the most difficult moment. The crisis will pass. The criticism will pass. The season of uncertainty will pass. And the applause will pass, too.
The key takeaway is this: never let a challenging moment convince you that your success has come to an end, and never let a successful season convince you that you can stop paying attention to the road ahead.
The other side of the coin may be even more important than the first. The presidency should be something you do. Do not allow it to become all of who you are.
Over the past five years, several fellow presidents have shared their lived experiences with me. The reality of executive leadership is that circumstances can change quickly. Sometimes, all it takes is one email, one phone call, one lie, one hidden agenda, one set-up or one board meeting to change one’s employment status. For some, their presidency will last 20+ years. For others, it may last only a few years.
The real question is, did you do what you were supposed to do within the season you were given to do it? You cannot love an institution so much that you become afraid to leave it. Know the season you have been called to serve, maximize that season and be the first to know (the best you can) when your season has come to a close. Five years ago, I entered the presidency knowing what I hoped to accomplish. Today, I understand more clearly what the presidency has been teaching me.
Leadership is not about how far you rise, how big the institution you serve is, how much money you make, how long you remain, how many awards you collect, how many speaking engagements you secure or how many people want to take a picture with you at the next conference. It is about how faithfully you steward the opportunity you have been given, how many lives are better because of the actions you took and whether you can walk away from the title knowing that you did not lose yourself while carrying it.
It is my hope and desire that these lessons encourage you to keep going, cause you to reflect on what really matters, and make adjustments accordingly.
