An interim steps into a presidency, knowing ‘it’s not just a job’
David Tandberg said he took the interim presidency at Adams State University in rural Colorado never expecting to stay longer than a year. So when the opportunity to be considered for the full-time gig at the residential institution of 1,400 undergraduates came up, he didn’t apply lightly. “It’s not just a job. It’s a full lifestyle,” he said. And he asked himself, “Do I have what it takes to be a permanent president? Would Adams State be well served by me?”
He decided yes, and so did the Board of Trustees, who in April appointed him to the post over 60 other candidates.
I’ve been talking periodically with Tandberg over the past year about his ambitions as an interim leader and the challenges he’s faced. Last month, I checked in again about what he’s learned along the way. The next chapter, Tandberg said, leaves him both “excited and intimidated.”
Considering how much he and his wife, Darin, (also an alum) have thrown themselves into the job over the past year — hosting dinners for students and faculty members, visiting far-flung school districts, meeting with community leaders — I figured Tandberg would know enough about what he is getting into that he wouldn’t have trepidations about the full-time gig. But as he reminded me, as an interim coming in with enthusiasm, he enjoyed the benefit of the doubt. That honeymoon may be over. “Folks look at me differently now,” he said. And in assessing his effectiveness as a president going forward, “I’ll kind of be competing against myself,” he said.
That’s not all that will change. Fund raising, for one, will be higher up on his agenda. “As an interim, you could make potential donors feel good, but you really can’t make an ask,” he told me. “I will definitely be doing that now.”
For all his experience as a policy wonk at the State Higher Education Executive Officers Association, where he had been on sabbatical for the past year, Tandberg said one of the surprises of being a college president was how much of the job involves decisions about buildings and other physical assets. His institution, he said, could use some renovations to its dorms, its student-union building, and its library.
He also now sees the need for broader policy attention to rural higher-ed infrastructure. “In these rural locations, our impact is huge,” said Tandberg. “When we look at rural development, we need to look at rural universities.” For example, he said with the right upgrades, the college library could easily become a community and business resource offering high-speed internet access.
That got me thinking. I’ve written about proposals to more explicitly tie rural economic development to rural higher-ed, including one from scholars at Brookings. But a lot of the higher-ed policy discussions I’ve been following of late don’t seem aimed in this direction. Maybe that discourse is missing the boat on what college leaders really grapple with day to day. (Or maybe I’m just not as in touch with the latest from the NACUBO and SCUP as I should be. If so, my bad.)
Tandberg took the interim gig with no prior experience as a president, although before joining Sheeo he had been a professor of higher education at another institution. That didn’t prepare him for one of the biggest challenges of the job: recognizing the formal and informal networks that exist on a campus and understanding how the many varied constituencies might need to be consulted on — or at least informed of — a decision before it’s finalized. That’s a skill that many new leaders in any organization (but especially at a university) may underestimate — at their peril.
From the get-go, Tandberg didn’t do a great job pacing himself for the physical and emotional rigors of the job, and he knew it. In January he pledged to get more exercise and more sleep. And? “Better,” he said, but “not where I need to be.” He swears he’ll be more deliberate about both in the future: “Getting enough sleep is one of the most important things a president can do.” (At least he got some vacation. The day we spoke by phone he was in Banff, Canada, looking out on a glacier.)
As he looks to the next few years, Tandberg will be paying close attention to the new dual-admissions pathways the university has been forging with community colleges in Southern Colorado and Northern New Mexico — key efforts for an institution that is still looking to recover from years of enrollment losses. (As of mid-June, enrollment was trending above the previous year.)
He’s also watching a longer-term bet that the university is making to help solve a perennial challenge: a shortage of school teachers in the area. Developed in conjunction with school districts, Adams State will offer free tuition to students willing to stay local and become teachers in the San Luis Valley when they graduate. Interested students will be tapped to join a cohort of fellow future teachers in as early as the eighth grade. Tandberg said he’s hopeful for the model because he’s aware of the successes of similar early-intervention models, like Gear Up, and because this was the approach the school superintendents liked the best.
Tandberg’s contract is for three years, but now that he’s committed to the job, he said he hopes to be there a lot longer — and to continue to find ways to connect the college with the region. “We’re all in this together,” he said, “The city, the valley, the school districts, Adams State.”
That sounds like a heavy lift, and Tandberg said it’s a responsibility that does weigh heavily on him. But he’s also trying to be realistic about what one person can do. “I need to remind myself it’s the entire campus’s job to keep the campus moving forward,” he said. “It’s on all of us.”
A July 4th question for readers
My long holiday weekend featured fireworks, a ticket to an inventive new production of 1776 at the Kennedy Center, and some peaceful time on the water in my kayak. Now, with July 4, 2023, behind us, we’ve got just three years until the nation celebrates its 250th birthday.
I’m the daughter of immigrants who embraced the freedoms and opportunities their new homeland offered. In our house, July 4th was a big deal. I also remember celebrating the U.S. Bicentennial in 1976, sitting on a cliff in Northern New Jersey overlooking the Hudson River as a parade of “tall ships” sailed under the George Washington Bridge.
Recently, with perhaps more-cerebral notions about the nuances of America’s ideals, I’ve been thinking about the opportunities to meaningfully commemorate our nation’s semiquincentennial — especially since my 2021 conversation with Danielle Allen about “Our Common Purpose” and its suggestions for reinvigorating our democracy.
What about you? There is a national effort to mark this milestone, and according to its website, 33 states have signed on in some form. But I wonder: Where do colleges fit in? Has your institution begun making plans for our nation’s 250th birthday? Do you have thoughts on how higher ed should take part? Are there contributions colleges could and should be making to these commemorations? Please write me, and I’ll share your thoughts in a future newsletter.
Got a tip you’d like to share or a question you’d like me to answer? Let me know, at goldie@chronicle.com. If you have been forwarded this newsletter and would like to see past issues, find them here. To receive your own copy, free, register here. If you want to follow me on Twitter @GoldieStandard is my handle.
