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A Step Aside

‘You Become a Mere Mortal’: What Happens When Presidents Go Back to the Faculty

By David Jesse September 18, 2024
Susan Herbst retired as the president of the University of Connecticut in 2019. She’s now a professor of political science on the Stamford campus.
Susan Herbst retired as the president of the University of Connecticut in 2019. She’s now a professor of political science on the Stamford campus.Elias Williams for The Chronicle

The necklace Susan Herbst has on comes with a story. Not of a treasured family memory or a special person — but of a big change in her professional life.

From 2010 to 2019, Herbst was the president of the University of Connecticut. She’s now a political-science professor on Connecticut’s Stamford campus. Moving back to the faculty meant making all kinds of adjustments, some of which she hadn’t really thought about — like what kept happening when she left the office to grab a cup of coffee. As president, Herbst hadn’t had to lock or unlock her office door. As professor, the door would swing shut, and the former president would be locked out without her key. After many calls to campus safety, Herbst decided on a permanent solution: the necklace, for her key to dangle next to her ID card.

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The necklace Susan Herbst has on comes with a story. Not of a treasured family memory or a special person — but of a big change in her professional life.

From 2010 to 2019, Herbst was the president of the University of Connecticut. She’s now a political-science professor on Connecticut’s Stamford campus. Moving back to the faculty meant making all kinds of adjustments, some of which she hadn’t really thought about — like what kept happening when she left the office to grab a cup of coffee. As president, Herbst hadn’t had to lock or unlock her office door. As professor, the door would swing shut, and the former president would be locked out without her key. After many calls to campus safety, Herbst decided on a permanent solution: the necklace, for her key to dangle next to her ID card.

JesseFaculty_28.JPG
Elias Williams for The Chronicle

As the average tenure of presidents continues to shrink, more find themselves pondering what their next move will be. Nearly 40 percent think they will end up in some sort of consulting work, according to the latest survey of college presidents by the American Council on Education. Only about a quarter of current presidents plan on seeking another presidency. And just under 15 percent plan to move to the faculty, either at their current institution or somewhere else.

For those who do return to the faculty, the move can be both fun and jarring. “It’s a moment of identity reformation, both professionally and personally,” said Lisa Jasinski, president of the Associated Colleges of the Midwest, who published a book last year on making the transition.

The change can show up in outfits — goodbye, power suits— as well as in campus politics.

“The campus community is going to need some time to make the change as well,” Jasinski said. “Sometimes the leaders get there faster than the people around campus.”

Herbst knew immediately it was a change she wanted to make. As president, she missed interacting with students, something that had gotten harder to do. Anticipating the transition, she kept one foot in political science, her home field, and even attended some discipline-specific conferences during her time as president. She kept a list of classes she’d like to teach one day.

“I think my transition was a lot easier than most,” she said. “Because I was still in touch with the field, it was not a hard transition intellectually.” That’s not to say it was easy to move on. “I really missed my team, which I’ve heard is true for other presidents as well. You get so incredibly close to your team.”

Jeff Abernathy, president of Alma College, in Michigan, knows he’ll miss his team when he steps down at the end of this academic year. He’s been at Alma, a small liberal-arts college, since 2010. He feels the weight of time and the research work he still wants to accomplish.

Abernathy began working on his research project — a book following up on his previous one about Huckleberry Finn — over the summer. He spent a full day working in the library, something he hadn’t done in years. “I’m having a blast,” he said.

He’s been thinking about this moment for a long time. His current contract even includes provisions about the post-presidency. Abernathy and his board agreed that, in the president’s words, “I will have no stated opinion on the college’s direction.” He added that he’s “not a silverback gorilla” who will pound his chest and try to rule the college from his faculty perch.

When Dean Bresciani left his president’s office at North Dakota State University in 2022, he thought about taking the well-worn path to a search firm or consulting firm, but remembered how much he enjoyed teaching a class or two while president. His wife told him she could tell which nights he taught because he was more enthusiastic and happy when he came home.

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So, as his tenure drew to an end, he began mentioning the possibility to people around campus. “I wanted to see what the reaction of the faculty would be,” he said. It was generally positive, so he prepared for the transition. His department chair was “liberal” in sharing Bresciani’s CV around so those in the department could see he had academic chops.

While many former presidents are loath to be involved in discussions about campus affairs, Bresciani said he served on “more than my fair share” of faculty committees and welcomed other professors to his office to explain what he knew about the political forces in the state that shaped administrators’ decisions.

“My faculty colleagues were great,” he said. “They would say, ‘President Bresciani, what do you think?’ I’d say, ‘I’m not president. I’m Dean.’” He recognizes his smooth path back to the faculty makes him an outlier. “Very few have positive experiences,” he said. “I’ve heard a lot of horror stories.”

Bresciani understands why. “Your relevance diminishes rapidly and you become a mere mortal. I don’t think most presidents in advance understand how cold that can feel at times.”

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And yet, former presidents never truly shed their former skin, said M. Roy Wilson, who stepped down as the leader of Wayne State University, in Detroit, at the end of the 2022-23 academic year after a 10-year stint. “Once you’ve been president, you’re not ever really a regular faculty member.”

M. Roy Wilson, former president of Wayne State University, meets with students and staff at the Kresge Eye Institute, in Detroit.
M. Roy Wilson, former president of Wayne State University, meets with students and staff at the Kresge Eye Institute, in Detroit.Brittany Greeson for The Chronicle

After he stepped down, Wilson spent a sabbatical year at the University of Miami’s Bascom Palmer Eye Institute, catching up on his research in glaucoma.

“I never completely gave up on my academic life,” he said. “I kept active. I wasn’t doing surgeries, but I kept abreast of what was going on. I never gave up my medical license. I’ve got to get back in the flow of seeing patients again.”

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Some of those skills are a little rusty, he said, and he’s had to adjust to other changes. Electronic health records weren’t widely used when he was last working in the field full-time.

Wilson said the bonds he’d forged in Detroit — and his passion for revitalizing the city — ruled out seeking a faculty job elsewhere. “When you spend a lot of time in one place, you develop relationships,” he said. “Part of what becomes important in your post-presidency is your social life. I didn’t want to start that all over again.”

Wilson said his transition has gone as well as could be hoped. “I think it could be a bit weird when people you hired are now your ‘boss,’ but everyone has been great,” he said. “They give me a lot of freedom, and in turn, I try very hard not to abuse the fact that I am viewed differently, like it or not.”

That difference in perception has been Wilson’s biggest hurdle so far. ”People on campus and around the city want to bring up issues that I have no interest in discussing,” he said. “I had my time as the leader, and I was all in. Now, it’s someone else’s turn, and I really do not wish to opine on university issues. Soon, nobody will care what I think, and I’m OK with that.”

A version of this article appeared in the October 18, 2024, issue.
We welcome your thoughts and questions about this article. Please email the editors or submit a letter for publication.
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David Jesse
About the Author
David Jesse
David Jesse is a senior writer at The Chronicle of Higher Education, where he covers college leadership. Contact him at david.jesse@chronicle.com.
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