I vividly remember my first visit to Union College, when my husband was a candidate to become its president. It was October 2005, and the historic campus greeted us in all its fall glory. We fell in love with the place. The gorgeous grounds, the rich history, the academic prestige and close-knit community—all were a great fit for us. By the end of the day, we could imagine leaving behind two successful careers and a comfortable life in Massachusetts to make Schenectady our home. It was the joint venture we had been waiting for. We were ready.
I remember, too, the day seven months later when I moved to Schenectady to take up my post at Union, having lived apart from my husband while finishing up my own academic year and graduating my students. After saying goodbye to friends and colleagues and loading my car with the last of our belongings, I made the two-and-a-half-hour drive west to my new home.
I arrived at Union College on a drizzly gray afternoon, only to be informed that the gates were closed for a reunion “fun run.” Frazzled and soggy, I finally pulled into the driveway of my new home after an extended detour. Two hours later I stood smiling on the porch, shaking hands with alumni and introducing myself as the wife of Union’s new president.
That’s when I wondered: Am I ready?
None of us are truly ready, as it turns out.
The path to the role of presidential partner, for those who choose to take it, varies tremendously. Some partners decide to maintain a long-distance relationship rather than become fully immersed in the role. Those who do dive in occupy a singular and largely ill-defined space in the campus landscape. We play an integral role in the life of the institution. We are at once fund raisers, hosts, public-relations representatives, event planners, grounds supervisors, facilities managers, curators, historians, and community ambassadors. Yet most of us have no official job description.
Indeed, I’ve learned many things, both expected and unexpected, from my three years as Mrs. Stephen C. Ainlay, wife of the president.
For starters, I was never Mrs. Stephen Ainlay before, and my new identity took some getting used to. I had led an undergraduate academic program in gerontology studies for a consortium of colleges for more than a decade and was managing editor for an academic journal. I had my own well-established identity.
By contrast, when I came to Union I was thrust into the role of president’s sidekick, which leads to a kind of social vertigo at first. Initially, you feel like the invisible person in the room. That feeling does lessen as people get to know you, but never completely disappears. You are, and will always be, second fiddle, and your happiness in this role is directly related to your ability to embrace that fact.
It is also the president’s partner who assumes all responsibilities for maintaining some semblance of normalcy in the couple’s personal life. If household and family responsibilities were shared before, that quickly goes by the wayside. Bill paying, household maintenance, correspondence, wardrobe maintenance, meal planning, car repairs, family relationships, the social calendar, the dog—all fall on the shoulders of the partner. Additionally, the partner serves as the president’s sounding board, support system, and sometimes, his or her only true friend.
According to a 2004 article in the Boston Business Journal, approximately 25 percent of colleges and nearly half of research universities give presidential spouses a title and salary to recognize the demands of their role. For my part, I believe a title and compensation are a good idea for legitimizing the work we partners do. But I also understand those who shy away from compensation.
That brings me to another undeniable aspect of the partner role: It is very public and dominated by the institution’s needs. When you’re not feeling invisible, you’re probably feeling overexposed. That is especially true if you live in a public venue as we do. The president’s house is a fishbowl in many ways. People—mostly employees—are around you all the time, and everyone is trying to figure out who you are and how you will affect their lives. Looking back now, I realize I was unprepared for the intense curiosity. Nor did I anticipate the occasional loneliness that accompanies life on a public stage.
The bottom line is that there is no formal training for “presidential spouse.” Our constituents are numerous and varied, as are their expectations of us, but we have few resources at our disposal to help us navigate those expectations. We have no real support network, in part because we have no common experience to support. Each of us inhabits the role very differently depending on our backgrounds, our personalities, and the character and size of our institutions.
After my husband accepted his appointment, I undertook some research to understand what his role would mean for me and how I could be an effective presidential partner. It was a short process. I canvassed bookstores and surfed the Internet, but ultimately discovered only a handful of resources:
- Teresa Johnston Oden’s Spousework: Partners Supporting Academic Leaders (iUniverse, 2007) provides the most comprehensive view of the presidential-partner role and how it differs from traditional helpmate roles. The Web site Spousework.org offers the added benefit of online forums on such relevant topics as living in a public residence, entertaining at an institutional level, and the pros and cons of being a paid employee.
- The Association of American Universities includes a constituent group called AAU Partners that meets twice a year in conjunction with regular membership meetings. My official title at Union, director of special institutional relations, was drawn from an AAU description I found via an online search. (Unfortunately, however, for those of us at small private colleges, access to this resource is limited because we aren’t members of that association.)
- The Council of Independent Colleges offers a conference track for partners as part of its Presidents Institute and New Presidents Workshop, called the Presidents Institute Spouses Program. It was helpful, and might be even more so if expanded to a regular series covering essential topics like fund raising, campus relations, and community involvement. I can also imagine a valuable parallel track to the Harvard Seminar for New Presidents that could be geared specifically to presidential partners—a spouse’s “boot camp,” so to speak.
- Someone who has held the partner role and speaks from firsthand experience is also an invaluable resource. One such friend offered me this advice: “It’s easy to become overextended, so don’t say yes to any commitments your first year until you get the lay of the land.” I tried to comply, although it was extremely difficult for me to say no. I finally joined just one committee, albeit with caveats about my availability. Eventually, my constant travel and frequent absences led to the polite suggestion that my energies could perhaps be better directed elsewhere. I should have heeded my friend’s advice.
Looking back after three years as a presidential partner, it is clear to me now that the absence of an organization just for our profession is a significant void. If we are brought together as a group it is usually in conjunction with programs geared toward presidents. At such meetings, programming for spouses is either strictly social or is clearly secondary to the presidential meetings and often without much substance. Dedicated meetings of our own would give presidential partners a way to connect with one another, learn from one another, share our experiences, and combat the sense of isolation that often accompanies this job.
There may be a variety of ways to meet our need. Perhaps the most expedient would be to incorporate a parallel full track for presidential partners within the associations in which our institutions already have memberships. And there is no question that more research, written materials, and online resources could significantly aid presidential partners.
Although the one common thread uniting presidential partners may be the multiple demands of the role, at the end of the day —after the smiles and handshakes and even the invisible moments—I do love my job. I get to work side by side with my best friend. I meet fascinating people of all ages and have abundant opportunities to stay intellectually engaged. I have the honor of living in, working in, and caring for a beautiful home that is a centerpiece of the college’s history.
Most of us spend the first couple of years as a presidential partner caught in the headlights, just trying to keep up with everything thrown our way. That is the time when a formal organization would be most helpful. Now, at the end of Year 3, I’m starting to feel as if things are working and that I could serve as more of a mentor or guide to others if such an organization existed. I feel as if I can begin thinking not just about what I need to do in this role, but what I want to do and where I want to take the position. I feel as if I’m finally coming up for air.
I’m ready.
