Accept and Embrace Your Role as Chair

by R. Kent Crookston

From The Department Chair, Winter 2011 (21.3)

In a recent survey of America’s academic chairs (see Crookston, 2010), more than one thousand participants indicated they were struggling to accept their role as chair, to embrace and make the most of it. Females noted this 20% more often than males did. A quote from one chair respondent represents the frustration if not the despair that sometimes accompanies chairing: “I do not feel that anything has worked well for me [personally]. Practically I am throwing all my time into the job, my own research is the victim, and I could add my family too. Why do I do it? As demanded by the majority, and as a service, and I am glad to see that we have accomplished a lot so the efforts pay, and also since I do believe that I am the best for the job (given the options we have).” This person asked and answered an important question: Why do I do it? In this article I share a few survey quotes that acknowledge the hard job of chairing, the pressures and demands that hinder an individual’s career, the frustrations of nonconforming and underappreciative colleagues, and the sometimes-negative impact on family and other priorities. Given this recognition, I encourage optimism by recommending an important mindset: I accepted the position, and that has made all the difference.

“All the Difference”

In “The Road Not Taken,” one of America’s best-known poems, Robert Frost describes a time when walking through a yellow wood he was confronted with two diverging roads and had to choose between them. The last two lines of the poem are: “I took the one less traveled by, / And that has made all the difference.” A common interpretation of these lines is that the less-traveled road was perhaps more rigorous, more demanding, and by taking it Frost (as could be the case for anyone who does not take the easy way out or go with the crowd) was a better person than if he had taken the more-traveled road. My interpretation is different.

Note that the one road is described “as just as fair,” having “perhaps” the better claim, although they were worn “really about the same” and “equally lay” before him. It is my conclusion that Frost was writing about how our common decisions, whatever they be, make all the difference in our lives. Had he chosen the more-traveled road, it too would have made all the difference. And, he knew that one day he would likely be second-guessing that different opportunity he passed up.

Kiechle (2005) points out that “Once an alternative has been selected, the other alternative that has been rejected will have to be mourned. People frequently overlook this need for mourning” (p. 76). He continues, “. . . anyone who makes a decision needs to have the courage to say yes to a situation” (p. 77). As one chair responded: “I recognize that I will not be publishing as long as being chair involves working 12 months.” Kiechle counsels us to “Mourn the possibilities you ignored as well as the opportunities you missed. Your life is a path of letting go and dying. If you accept life to be this way, you will be able to commit to relationships more easily and become more content” (p. 118). At least one chair chose not to let go and returned to his former life: “What helped me the most was resigning and focusing on my own scholarship.”

The following comment comes from a chair who found that a few mental adjustments were in order and was encouraging others to do the same: “Do an introspective self-study, and know your strengths and weaknesses, and within reason, modify your inclinations.” In any new and demanding position there will be disappointments, frustrations, and setbacks. We should anticipate conflict and arguments, and we may need to lower the expectations we have of ourselves and others in the new situation, as well as “modify our inclinations.” Consider this comment from one chair respondent: “If you cannot adapt to feeling abused or victimized by colleagues with lifetime problems with authority, and if you cannot realize that they usually are upset with your position (not necessarily you as a person), then you will not survive as Chair. Also, have or make a life outside the department, take vacations, and try to have a sense of humor about the divine comedy of it all.”

Gunsalus (2006) counsels that once we become an administrator it is vital to our success that we acknowledge any misgivings we may have about our fate and find constructive ways to accept it. She has surveyed thousands of department chairs regarding their reasons for doing this job and has boiled their answers down to four (p. 12):

• To give something back (often initially presented as “It was my turn”).
• Because I was a better alternative than anyone else (or, less benignly, “To keep X from doing it and destroying the department”).
• To grow in a new dimension (a way to stretch creatively or intellectually).
• To make a difference.

Reflections and Goals Setting

Gunsalus (2006) also encourages all chairs to take some careful time to do a little soul searching and determine why they said yes to the job. She then recommends identifying no more than two or three specific goals for their term of service and writing these down—goals for themselves, not for the department. She counsels that chairs should refer back to these goals as often as once a week to remind themselves what matters most, and to stay centered amidst distractions. Gunsalus wisely recommends keeping such goals to oneself and proceeding cautiously about airing them.

I have found that this kind of goal setting can be done quite easily by noting what bothers me about myself, or about the department. I have learned that a criticism or complaint is actually a statement of value (important to remember when colleagues come carping—listen to them and discover, with them, what it is they value and what they recommend). Once I know what I would like to see changed I can decide whether to commit myself to effect that change. It is my experience that as I am committing in writing my resolve to act differently, there often comes to mind several good ideas about how to proceed.

The next survey comments document the different kinds of answers chairs may find following such reflection: “I’ve just completed my first year as chair, and I am happy to have survived. I have no great words of advice except ‘avoid becoming chair.’ This job is not for those who want to think creatively about mathematics and/or teaching. It is full of incessant, annoying interruptions. I see this job as pure torture. (Clearly, I need to learn how to “embrace and make the most of” the job.)” Conversely, another respondent who at first cringed from her chair responsibilities then embraced them and found them to be the highlights of her work: “Once I accepted the institutional power inherent in the role of department chair, I was more effective at using that power effectively and appropriately. Two examples are the faculty evaluation process and budget. I cringed the first time I did faculty evaluations because I didn’t want to sit in a judgment role over people I considered my peers. Once I realized the faculty evaluation process is a two-way conversation and an important way for me to stay in contact with my peers, I accepted the responsibility and it is now a highlight of my work each spring. A second example is control over budget. Some department chairs don’t want to manage their budgets, but knowing where the money is gives the department chair important access to influence the work of the department and a way to advocate for the department at dean and provost levels.”

This last comment documents how one chair found satisfaction in “sacrificing” for the good of the whole: “My model of leadership is service. I sometimes say my real job is to go to meetings, do paperwork, and solve problems so my colleagues can do what they know and love better and with less frustration. If that’s what my job is about, I can see concrete ways every day in which my efforts make a real and positive difference. And that’s enough to make it possible to do it all over again the next day.”

Finally, consider the reflections of John Conway (1996), who wrote: “I have never met anyone who was truly forced to become a head or a dean. I have met people who have become heads out of a sense of duty and who would rather have been left alone to do their research and teaching. Nevertheless, the notion persists that no one becomes a head unless they are forced or bribed to do the job” (p. 11).

Conclusion

Have you determined why you are a chair? Have you held a funeral for the life you might have enjoyed had you not become a chair? Why not hold a wake to celebrate the closing of one of your life’s chapters and the opening of a new one? Even if you’ve been chair for some time it’s not too late to write a list of what you like about the job, how it challenges you in good ways, what you can do to improve your department’s climate, and how, because of the position you’re in, you can help people do better and be happier.

R. Kent Crookston is professor and associate director over academic administrative support at the Faculty Center at Brigham Young University. Email: kent_crookston@byu.edu

References

Conway, J. B. (1996). On being a department head: A personal view. Providence, RI: American Mathematical Society.

Crookston, R. K. (2010). Results from a national survey: The help chairs want most. The Department Chair, 21(1), 13–15.

Gunsalus, C. K. (2006). The college administrator’s survival guide. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Kiechle, S. (2005). The art of discernment: Making good decisions in your world of choices. Notre Dame, IN: Ave Maria Press.