by R. Barbara Gitenstein
EduLife Photos/Shutterstock
In the final chapter of “Portrait of a Presidency: Patterns in My Life as President of The College of New Jersey,”I write of several important lessons I learned as a president. My first advice was to answer yes to the question “Are you right for the job?” While affinity for the institutional mission and experience at and/or knowledge of the functioning of the type of institution are good markers for “fit,” understanding and appreciating the student body of the institution is the most important marker.
As I observed some problematic management of student protest during the 2023-2024 academic year on college and university campuses, I kept coming back to a set of nagging questions: “Did the presidents of these universities know their student body? Did they have strong relationships with student leadership and with the student affairs professionals of their campus?” I came away with the conclusion that the answer to each of these questions was likely a resounding “no.”
I was extremely fortunate to be president of The College of New Jersey (TCNJ), an exemplary institution in providing academic and social development experiences for students with high academic potential. While TCNJ had a wide range of master’s programs, the vast majority of its 7,000 students were undergraduates and were of “traditional age.” Thus, the College needed to provide social networks, emotional support programs appropriate for their personal development, and strong academic offerings. I had to be knowledgeable of the students and their needs.
Most TCNJ students were from New Jersey and while they sought intellectual challenge, they also had a strong practical streak. They understood that the job they attained on graduation was likely not their best job, but their first step to attaining their best job. Most were from the middle and lower socio-economic classes; they appreciated the value of hard work; they understood patience, and they were marked by personal humility. They expected to graduate with their baccalaureate degree in 4 years (TCNJ’s four-year graduation rate in 2017 — the year before I retired — was the fifth highest four-year graduation rate of all four-year publics in the nation).
I learned early in my career that I really liked people of this age group and background. I loved watching them grow and change, even when their learning brought with it pain and disappointment. As a group, they were talented, inspiring, and resilient. I came away from every commencement feeling good about these young people entering the workforce, beginning their graduate programs, and taking over the leadership of their communities.
While I was president, I met regularly with the president of the student body, the student trustees, and other leaders of student organizations. But I also made sure that my interactions with students extended beyond the elected leaders to a wide range of students — from sharing pizza in the residence halls to hosting athletic teams and members of academic support programs in the president’s home. In these informal settings, the students talked about issues that might not be the ones that were picked up by the student newspaper. There is nothing like sitting out on the back deck on a crisp fall evening over a grilled hot dog to help students feel comfortable sharing what they are really feeling.
There were times when being president was couched in pain. The 9/11 attacks on the twin towers in Manhattan had a visceral impact on our student body. In Chapter 3, “Winter Light,” of “Portrait of a Presidency,” I write about how we confronted the challenge that was 9/11. In the first hours after the planes flew into the towers, I encouraged all the senior administration to get out of their offices — to be out and about, to be seen, to be there to comfort any student, faculty member, or staff member who needed comfort. As I observed what was happening, I observed a lot of students returning to their residence hall rooms to watch television, to see that traumatic image of the plane hitting the south tower — over and over and over again.
I responded by renting televisions sets — as many as we could find — and placing them in large public spaces and ordering lots of pizza to be delivered there. If the students had to watch these images, I wanted them to do so together.
Five days later, as I was walking around the campus, I overheard not one but several students saying that they wished that they could get away from the television coverage. If they needed to catch up on the news, they could seek it out. That afternoon, we returned all the televisions.
In the spring of 2006, a TCNJ freshman went missing; his body was found more than a month later in a land fill. Chapter 4, “Loss Again” in “Portrait of a Presidency”revisits those painful weeks and the importance of keeping the students front and center in my response to the crisis. March and April 2006 were filled with gruesome speculations, hovering helicopters, and intrusive press coverage. In that same semester, Governor Corzine proposed a historical cut to public higher education and a destructive revamping of disclosure requirements for trustees, but my job during those months became almost solely focused on the mental and physical health of the students.
I learned a great deal about leadership during my 19 years as president of TCNJ, but no lesson was as meaningful as appreciating the impact of nurturing my relationship with The College’s students. My advice to sitting presidents is to engage with your students, learn their needs, and listen to their concerns. More than a powerful new strategic plan, a well-placed argument with a political player or donor, or an exquisite new building, listening to and responding to your students will cement your success as a college president.
