I have been an educator for 33 years now, including 11 as a college president. Throughout this career, fear has taken many forms. I was once challenged by the stares of a class of third-grade students. I recall being concerned about rejection from a donor while working at a new nonprofit. I was afraid I wouldn’t get the first presidency I applied for—and just as afraid that I would.
Encountering fear as a leader is inevitable. You are responsible for the safety, well-being, and yes, even happiness, of every student, faculty, and staff member for whom you serve. At times, you need to consider the security of your own job, especially when you speak out about something you believe in.
But I must confess, I have never been afraid to wake up in the morning. I have never been worried about which existential punch will come next. My only goal is to ensure that young people who want a college education have the access and resources to attain it. And yet, I am beginning to wonder whether this single ambition is enough. Have I been mistaken in believing every young person deserves that opportunity? I wake up concerned not about my willingness to fight for them – because I always will – but about my ability to do so in this current environment. And if I am no longer able, what will happen to the next generation? Where does that leave me and any of the other 4,000 university leaders who may be just as concerned? Where does it leave the 18 million students for whom we are responsible?
Harry S. Truman wrote, “If the ladder of educational opportunity rises high at the doors of some youth and scarcely rises at the doors of others, while at the same time, formal education is made a prerequisite to occupational and social advance, then education may become the means, not of eliminating race and class distinctions, but of deepening and solidifying them.”
I have spent my career helping build that ladder. It does not matter to me who climbs the ladder. I just want every young person to have one. Yet at this moment, I, and so many of my peers, find ourselves dwelling in fear. Fear is such a devastating emotion because if you succumb to it, if you give in to despair, you lose hope. And education is an industry built upon hope. Hope for the students you serve today. Hope for the students we will serve in the future. Hope for our nation’s future. Hope for our world.
In moments like these, we must remind ourselves of the durability of both hope and education. I am turning to history as a reminder that education has endured political turbulence, civil wars, and economic downturns. Colleges and universities have survived pandemics, ideological battles, and shifting cultures and values.
At its core, education is about the freeing of minds, the enlivening of hearts, and the transformation of individuals who go on to shape a better and more just world. Education is about persevering through moments just like this one and equipping one to come out stronger on the other side. As our mission states: Hollins University is dedicated to academic excellence, creativity, belonging, and preparing students for lives of purpose. My life’s purpose right now is to act – with hope, energy, and passion – to care for and shepherd my institution through this moment. To emerge stronger not despite my fears, but because of them.
I will remember this when I wake up tomorrow. I will remember this when I wake up wondering what my students will face on that day. I will remember this when I go to sleep hoping the next day will be better. I will remember this when I pray that my belief in the hope and the power of education will live to see another day.
