A few years ago, I had an opportunity to pursue a part-time administrative position. Some of my colleagues tried to persuade me to take the job because they were convinced that it was the most effective means by which I could contribute to real change on the campus.
One colleague, in particular, thought that by being an administrator, albeit a part-time one, I might be able to help change a culture that had been rather unfriendly to women in science and engineering fields at my university. As an administrator, I would be more visible to more people outside my department and, therefore, a more effective role model. Being an administrator is a way to “give back” by helping the next generation of scientists and engineers, whereas remaining a professor is more self-serving. Administrators can effect institutional change; professors can effect only individual change.
Or so the argument went. I disagreed, arguing that remaining an active researcher would give me more credibility as a role model. I publish papers, get grants, give talks at conferences and at other universities, and serve on panels and committees within and beyond my university. As a part-time administrator, my impact would be confined to my campus. As a productive and visible researcher, I can (in theory) be a role model to early-career faculty members both at my university and beyond.
I also disagree with the notion that professors work only to advance their own careers. Many of us in the sciences and other fields guide large numbers of graduate students, postdocs, and other researchers. We teach and advise undergraduates. Teaching and advising are some of the most important and enjoyable aspects of the job for me. Why would I want to give them up? Why would I want to attend even more meetings than I already do?
Quite a few of my fellow midcareer academics have already become part- or full-time administrators, and more are heading down that path all the time. The effect seems most pronounced for women in my field because there weren’t many of us to begin with. Between the women who have left academe to pursue other careers and those who have become full-time administrators, the number of midcareer or older female professors in my specific subfield is quite small. At large research universities, I can count the number of us on one hand.
So it’s important to me to continue my research, advising, and teaching. Yet I now find myself back at the same point I was at a few years ago when my colleagues and I were arguing about how I could best “do good"—as an administrator or as a perpetual professor?
Of course, an important element of the equation is whether I would be a good administrator. The characteristics of an effective administrator are not necessarily the same as those required to be an effective professor, even a professor who manages a research group and has served on dozens of committees.
Are good administrators born that way, or can someone acquire the necessary skills later in life? Is a strong desire to be an administrator a necessary prerequisite for the job? I used to think that I lacked any administrative molecules, but that may have partly been wishful thinking.
A popular tenet among academics (but perhaps not among administrators) is that the person you don’t want as an administrator is the one who is most eager to be one. I have never really believed that, although I can see why it would be best to avoid having an administrator whose main motivation was to wield cosmic power over some faculty enemies.
According to this tenet, the most reluctant people make the best leaders. Some professors view with suspicion anyone who is eager to give up a major part of their research activities to become an administrator. That suspicion may particularly apply to candidates seeking the position of department head. And yet some faculty members who are intensely focused on research for many years may want to do something else at a later stage of their careers. Not everyone feels that way, but some do, and it is a good thing they do because we want and need administrators who are (or were) experienced researchers.
I have read various papers and books about academic administration, looking to be convinced that I was both interested in, and qualified for, such a job. I found some useful information about being an administrator but not much that was particularly helpful about making the decision to start traipsing down the administrative path because that decision involves so many personal considerations. For me those considerations include:
- What effect would part-time but time-consuming administrative work have on my students, postdocs, close colleagues, and family?
- How do I assess the strengths and weaknesses I might have as a potential administrator?
- In consulting with respected colleagues, which of them would give me a blunt assessment of my potential, or lack thereof, as an administrator?
- Should I do something a bit different at this stage of my career?
Perhaps I seem indecisive—presumably not a good thing in an administrator. But this is a big decision, and I prefer to think of my deliberations as necessary to making the best choice for all concerned.
So far, I know this much: I wouldn’t consider going down the administration path if I weren’t feeling a bit pressured to do so, but if I accept the responsibility of the position, I would set aside the pressure (and my own reluctance) and just do the job.
