Category: Higher Education

[Each year, the Denice Denton Emerging Leader ABIE Award recognizes a junior faculty member for achievements in research and for positive impact on diversity. The award honors Denice D. Denton, who served as Dean of the UW’s College of Engineering before being appointed as Chancellor of the University of California, Santa Cruz. In June, the award recipients held a faculty development workshop at which President Cauce delivered the keynote address. Remarks as prepared for delivery.]

Good morning. Thank you, Reza, for that kind introduction. From your groundbreaking work in applying nanotechnology to healthcare challenges, to your role as chair of the Denice Denton Emerging Leader ABIE Award, you’re helping to transform the future for tomorrow’s scientists.

It’s an honor to be here, both in support of developing strong, diverse leaders in academia, and in memory of my friend and colleague, Denice Denton. Her life’s work stands as a testament to the transformative power of mentoring to make the world a better, wiser and more inclusive place.

I was invited here to talk about leadership and to share a little about my own path and the lessons I’ve learned – some of them the hard way – from more than 30 years in academia. But before I do that, I want to say a few words about Denice, whose absence is felt every day, by so many of us.

To put it bluntly, Denice was a kick! When she danced the whole house would shake, she’d call me out of the blue for a “food emergency” and I knew it meant a truly delicious meal, and when we’d ride our bikes to shake off the stress of long weeks of work, she found a way where we could ride to the lake – all downhill – then put our bikes on the bus, and relax on the way back. She was truly a force of nature, and the world is a little less bright without her in it.

But, more to today’s point, Denice truly cared about students. And she believed passionately in the need to educate more people, particularly women, in the STEM fields. She believed that our failure to nurture women in these fields compromised our country’s competitiveness and she wasn’t afraid to speak up about it either. She was committed to increasing social justice – for minorities, for gays and lesbians, for immigrants and international students and faculty.

Denice was the first woman to reach a lot of heights – at the University of Washington as the first female dean of engineering at a major research university, and at UC Santa Cruz as the first woman chancellor – but what made her really special was everything she did to lower a ladder from those heights once she got there. Her legacy, the students and faculty she mentored and inspired, is one that will last forever. We honor her by continuing to pass the torch, lighting the way for each new generation of scholars.

I am also a “first” at the UW – the first woman, and the first Latina to serve as permanent president. (as well as the first openly gay president and the first “internal” president in modern history). If you held up pictures of all the UW presidents in history, even a 2-year-old could point out the one who’s not quite from central casting. If you are going to shatter glass ceilings – why not do it with style! I’m proud to be where I am and I hope that, like Denice, my work is serving to make opportunity, in academia but also in other fields and settings, more equitable and accessible for people who have historically been left out and marginalized.

Although I would never discount the advantages and privilege I’ve had in the past and that I enjoy now, I feel I can empathize to some degree with people who face obstacles because of where (or what color or sex) they were born. I was born into a family that fled from Cuba to Miami when I was a toddler. My parents, like many refugees, were educated people who took factory jobs to support their children. And though they had little money, what they did have was optimism and a belief that education was the key to a better life. That belief sustained and fueled me through my education and eventually led to not just a career, but a calling as an educator. I went to college with the help of scholarships and I’m profoundly grateful for the sacrifices my parents made and the generosity that allow me to stand here today.

I was also mentored and encouraged by teachers and scholars who continue to inspire me. As a graduate student at Yale, I had the privilege to be mentored by Edmund W. Gordon, whose work in psychology, education and African American studies influenced not just me, but a generation of psychologists. I bring this up because Ed, in turn, had been mentored by the legendary sociologist and activist W.E.B. Du Bois. I’m proud to bear the torch passed down from these great change-makers and I see it as my responsibility to honor their legacy by doing the same. That’s why ensuring students have access to excellent education has been and continues to be a priority for me. It’s what drives me – every day – to help create a world of good.

Until quite recently, I described myself as an “accidental administrator” because, like many faculty, I didn’t think of it as a wholly honorable career; I had little appreciation for hierarchy, bureaucracy or process, so how could I ever be an administrator? Which is ironic, because I now realize I’ve been doing some form of administration for virtually my whole career.

I first began doing administrative work right after achieving tenure when I became the director of clinical training within the UW Department of Psychology. Although the job required me to guide the Ph.D. program through an accreditation visit and implement some major programmatic and curricular changes, I didn’t yet think of myself as an administrator; I was still a teacher and researcher first, “doing my time” and looking forward to rejoining the faculty after my five-year term.

Well, that five-year term turned into a seven-year term, and when that was over, I was unexpectedly asked to serve as chair of American Ethnic Studies, a department which, at the time was, frankly, in disarray. I was inspired to say ‘yes’ to what turned out to be a very challenging assignment in part because my mentor, Ed, had come out of retirement to chair the CUNY’s Black Studies department during a period of turbulence. Being inspired to follow his example didn’t necessarily make my job chairing the department easy or fun, but it did serve to motivate me, and that’s a wonderful gift to get from a mentor. He used to tell me – you’re exactly where you are needed – something I’ve been telling myself a lot these days…

As chair, I had walked into a fraught and politicized situation, but nothing could have prepared me for the onslaught; my first day on the job, I found the hallway outside my office papered with a picture of me with crosshairs superimposed on my face and emblazoned with the headline “Under Fire.” Students protested my appointment with a sit-in that shut down the administration building during a Regents meeting. I had to dig deep within myself to find my center.

I’m proud to say that after a year in that role, we had made significant strides toward turning the department around and improving student satisfaction and morale, and although I didn’t realize it at the time, I had become hooked on administration. I discovered I enjoyed bringing disparate groups to the table and the satisfaction of building (or rebuilding) a department. I actually like the excitement of decision-making under pressure – guess I’m a bit of an adrenaline junkie.

Somewhat to my surprise, I’ve found that my training as a scientist and clinician in psychology has been a distinct advantage in being an administrator. Back when I was doing clinical supervision, I often told students that instead of working with a scalpel of stethoscope or with petrie dishes or test tubes “they” were the tool they used to do the research – that the first thing you need to know to become an effective therapist is yourself. As an administrator, I find myself falling back on that part of my training. And what do I know about myself? I know I can get frustrated with bureaucracy and I know I can occasionally be a hothead. Knowing that, I have sometimes literally sat on my hands to tamp down my impulse to speak when I know that listening is more important, or made an excuse to exit a meeting before saying something I know I’ll regret.

Having a researcher’s outlook has also been valuable to me in solving administrative problems. Leading a lab, writing grants, budgeting and conducting research in community settings – they all have their analogs in administrative roles.For example, when I was chairing American Ethnic Studies, where my appointment was viewed, at first, with suspicion and even hostility, I visited every class to talk to students, and I listened more than I spoke. I also handed out a survey to assess their satisfaction or dissatisfaction with every aspect of the program. The results provided the framework for developing common goals. That experience reinforced for me the importance of collecting data and analyzing the results before acting on impulse or following whichever way the wind is blowing. A decision based on evidence will almost always deliver a better outcome than one based on pure intuition – although sometimes that IS the best that you have, and then you listen to it.

Being a teacher has also been key. I’ve found that good leadership, like good teaching or mentorships, is about creating the conditions and pathways for others to succeed and knowing that their success is yours.

Since becoming president of the University of Washington, I’ve certainly had my leadership skills and philosophies tested. Despite having worked for 30 years at the UW (where I thought I knew all there was to know about a place), and even despite having served as provost, nothing can totally prepare you for being the president, in both good and bad ways. (For one thing, you get asked to speak at a lot more places!)

Without question, being president means getting the opportunity to do big things. It’s exciting and it’s a tremendous responsibility, particularly at place with the reach of a global, public research institution like the University of Washington. My responsibility and my passion are to ensure the UW is a place that delivers on its mission to serve the public good.

There are countless ways in which the UW can and does serve the public interest, but one of the most important and impactful ways is to make access to an excellent education something that any Washington resident can reasonably aspire to, regardless of ZIP code, socioeconomic status, race or ethnicity. You won’t hear a lot of university presidents say this, but I am not looking to raise the average SAT score or GPA of incoming students – although I’m not looking for them to fall, either! You will never hear me take pleasure in denying anyone the opportunity to pursue a degree or bragging about “selectivity” (Want to be judged by the students we educate, not those we reject). What I want is to create opportunities for the student who wants to do something innovative and world-changing with a UW education and diploma. I want a university that cherishes diversity as a core value, for the ways in which it makes all of us better, wiser and more equitable. But, at its core, my main job as president is to help others succeed.

To be the kind of institution that truly respects differences and welcomes many different kinds of change-makers, the UW must to do more than just admit a diverse student body (although that’s obviously important). We have to be an institution that makes everyone feel welcome and valued. I’m deeply concerned about the effects of systemic or institutional racism, the biases and barriers that diminish our capacity as a society, or in this case, as a university, to truly fulfill our public promise of both access and excellence. That’s why I was excited to launch the Race & Equity Initiative, a plan to begin to come to grips with racism and inequity at an institutional level, a task which will always be about struggle more than outcome. Working towards social justice is more a journey than a destination, because each time you move forward and look at the world from a more enlightened perspective, you realize that there is more to be done. So, it’s important to also practice self-care and build your own support system.

We launched the Race & Equity Initiative a little over a year ago, and while I’m very proud of the work that we have done to give shape and some substance to this plan, but the truth is that change like this does not happen quickly enough, much to my frustration and even more to the dismay of more than a few of the student activists I engage with. Universities are one of the few places where generations work together closely, and the push pull between youth and age is part of the excitement. Never fast enough for students, but their pushing keeps us oldsters from becoming too complacent about the real changes we’ve seen in our lives. At the same time, our longer arc of experience can serve as a reminder that things do, in fact, change. As an administrator, as a leader, the challenge is keeping the dialogue and engagement productive across differences, including generational differences, even when we can’t always come to complete agreement.

There’s no question that student activism plays an important role in driving change and progress in universities, and at many moments in history, well beyond the campus. Student activism also plays a part in educating students about the reaches – and limits – of their power, and about the different ways to engage in debate with the decision makers and how different forms can complement each other (couldn’t have King without X). As an administrator, being the subject of protests, has taken some getting used to, in part because historically, I’m more used to being on the side of the protesters.

When you grow up wielding power from the margins, the move to the center can be jarring. But I think that experience has been valuable to me, and I draw upon it when the rhetoric gets rough, and sometimes personal, something that I know was quite difficult for Denice after becoming Chancellor. On the one hand, some will label you a sell out because you chose to change the system from the inside, which some believe just isn’t possible (you can’t dismantle the master’s house with his told), on the other the pressure to fit into the box of what leaders are supposed to look like can be great. It’s only a half joke when I say that when I write my memoirs it will be called “Confessions of an administrator: How I became a straight, White man.”

As president, a target on your back comes with the job; I am the public face of the university. As the steward of a public good I must work within the policies of our state; civil disobedience may be something I can do in my personal life, but not as President. Sometimes, what I think personally is not what I must do, and my own attempts to work for change are from within the system – a choice you can argue with, but it’s the choice that I’ve made and that feels right for who I am. Learning to absorb criticism and manage my own frustration while balancing my responsibilities within the real-world is a balancing act I’m still figuring out; I don’t expect it will ever come easily, in fact, I hope it doesn’t. One of the things I most treasure from being “internal” is that I work with many decades old friends who will call me out when I start feeling too comfortable in this role.

Everyone’s path and opportunities will be different, so I find it hard to give generic advice about academic leadership. (And, truth be told, I don’t have a lot of use for leadership books that claim to impart the secrets of leadership.) I can only recount what has worked for me, which is why I’ve talked mostly about my own experiences, struggles and successes. So, take this with a grain of salt because what’s worked for me may not work for everyone, but I believe that diversity in all things, including academic leadership styles, is good.

That said, there are a few pieces of advice that I believe apply across the board, including hiring a first rate senior staff and professional staff. At a university, the vice presidents, vice provosts and deans do the managerial heavy lifting, and the professional administrative staff in the upper tiers of budgeting, finance, IT, human resources and administrative support (to name just a few) provide continuity and know-how that a leader, new to a role, won’t have yet. Never settle on a candidate until you find the right person and inculcate that practice throughout the organization. A failed search is better than a failed hire.

Self-monitoring has proven to be essential to a job in which you are always surrounded by people and frequently dealing with high-stakes situations. How you act will signal to others how to act; if you seem panicked, others will panic. If you can maintain your calm and appear confident, it will help others stay grounded and focused on solving the problem. You set the tone.

What has helped and sustained me in maintaining a sense of calm is a deep love of place and an intimate knowledge of its people and practices. The University of Washington is my home, although I certainly didn’t expect that to be the case when I first arrived there 30 years ago. But I’ve grown to love Seattle and the Pacific Northwest, which has an almost unmatched physical grandeur and beauty. More than anything, however, I have developed a love of the UW (or perhaps here I should say, the OTHER UW). Universities like ours create limitless opportunities to change the whole world for the better.

I’ve talked a lot about what my own leadership path – however accidental! – has looked like, so I will wrap up with a few words on what others’ paths might entail. For most academics, the opportunity to take on administrative roles within their departments will come if you’re open to it. There are more than enough faculty who actively wish to avoid administrative duties, so if you’re seeking those opportunities and willing to devote time, attention and brain space to them, you will be welcome in most departments. Junior faculty should volunteer for rotating administrative posts within their departments. In general, I’ve found that talented leaders who wish to lead will always find a way and an opportunity to do so.

I first became an educator because it seemed to me to be the surest way that I could make a difference, in the world – through my own work, and through the work I could do with students. Like all of you, I expect, I believe to my core that education is the key to a healthier, more prosperous, more just and equitable society. I believe it has the power to transform individual lives and whole nations. And, so when challenges and opportunities (because they are generally one and the same) presented themselves, I stepped up rather than back. And those steps led here, to somewhere I have never expected —

I hope you have those same – or even greater opportunities – in your careers. And by taking part in this workshop, and learning in the spirit of Denice Denton and leaders like her, I’m confident you will.

Thank you very much. I look forward to your questions.