Whoever said “Age ain’t nothing but a number” certainly never served as a division chair. I am equally certain that few division chairs have ever thought, “When I grow up, I plan on being the youngest chair in my division.” Yet after moving up the ranks from adjunct instructor to full-time faculty member to program coordinator, I found myself unenthusiastically assuming the crown jewel of academic management: division chairperson. In light of my youth, I wondered whether some faculty members expected me to use a high chair. My self-doubt and lack of information forced me to honestly assess my credentials, higher education skill set, and leadership abilities. There were lingering questions: Could I be an effective division chair? Was I simply too inexperienced? What would happen if I failed miserably? How could I address my self-doubt while gaining the confidence of others?
Abraham Lincoln is reputed to
have said, “I will prepare and someday my chance will come.” But what happens when
your chance comes before you feel sufficiently prepared? Unfortunately, the
completion of my self-assessment did not reveal any astute academic prowess or
superpower. I would like to think I was asked to be division chair because of
my proven leadership experience or my ability to solve complex problems. I
could even kid myself and cite superior intellect as some pompous academicians
do. But who was I kidding? I was young, capable, available, and optimistic
about the future of my college. Besides, many faculty members in my department simply
did not have the time, energy, or disposition to assume the duties and
responsibilities of such a demanding position.
After accepting my new reality as
the youngest chair in the division, I went from being a member of the faculty
to leading the faculty. Instantaneously, I transitioned from faculty to
administration and from everyone’s friend to their potential foe. I realized
quickly how some peoples’ perceptions of positions (and colleagues) can change.
For the first time, I felt like a chef in the academic kitchen, stirring a pot
of faculty, liaison, and administrator gumbo. This experience provided a moment
of clarity that would lend credence to and shape my future leadership style.
Prior to becoming division chair,
I spent 10 years as a faculty member. Like many others, I had the pleasure of serving
for some great division chairs. I also suffered under the leadership of some
not-so-great others. Which kind of chair would I become? How might my former colleagues
perceive me as chair? I did not feel adequately prepared to assume the duties
and responsibilities of division chair. After all, I had neither enrolled in
nor graduated from division chair school. What would I do?
To address these concerns, I
contacted a few recently appointed division chairs at other institutions to
inquire about their experiences. Their responses differed dramatically. Some expressed
to me that it would be best to rule with an iron fist. Some suggested that I
blindly support the academic dean and make his vision my own. Yet others
recommended that I befriend faculty and assume a pro-faculty stance. Although
their opinions varied, each assured me they had never really felt “ready” to
assume the duties and responsibilities of the position. In the end, I decided
to adopt an amalgamation of trusted advice and lived faculty experience. I
thought about the duties and responsibilities of the job as well as what I desired
in a division chair tasked with leading me. In so doing, I identified what I
like to call a Young Division Chair’s Wish List. I wish I had been made aware
of five simple things, which I discuss below.
1. The position or division
chair is actually many positions masquerading as one
The position of chair is multidimensional.
A chair is a leader, facilitator, manager, support system, and chief
representative of an entire department. As division chair, I no longer had someone
to “go to” for answers because I immediately became the go-to person. I went
from being managed to managing, from needing support to being a conduit for
support. I wish someone would have told me there is a tremendous difference
between being a representative and being the representative of
the division. I wish someone would have shared with me that the ability to
compartmentalize is key and how the nomenclature of division chair is truly
misleading.
2. Always think: “Students
first”
To be a successful chair, one must
wear many hats. I wish someone had explained to me that the position is not
about pleasing the academic dean or faculty. At the beginning of my tenure as
chair, I sought the advice of faculty, administrators, and staff. I was curious
about viewing the qualities of an effective chair through their respective
academic lenses. But I quickly realized that most problems were not really
faculty, administrator, or staff problems. They were student problems. As I began
to reflect on the advice I had solicited from previous and current chairs, I
recognized that they gave one of two options: lead with the academic dean in
mind or lead with faculty in mind. Yet as a full-time faculty member, I had always
subscribed to a student-centered approach. After my first year as chair, I
understood that I didn’t have to choose between two options. I wish someone had
told me that I could best lead with an “AFS triad” (for academic dean, faculty,
and students). Every higher education institution exists to meet the needs of
its students. An effective chair must find a way to balance the directives of
the academic dean and meet the needs of faculty while thinking about students
first.
3. Get on-the-job training
It is perfectly fine to look at
every challenge as on-the-job training.
I wish someone had explained to me that the job would present a variety of opportunities
to learn and grow. In addition, baptism by fire with on-the-job training would speed
up my learning curve and aid in my development as the youngest chair in the
division. I wish someone had coached me to believe in my ability to lead and
find unconventional answers to everyday questions. I further wish someone had
informed me that I would not have all the answers and that no one expected me
to. I wish I had known how humbling the position could be. It made me aware of
how little I knew about the structure and function of many facets of my
institution. But my ability to solve problems increased the more I read books
and articles about being an effective chair. The more I spoke with proven
leaders and mentors, the better I became at providing answers to everyday
questions.
4. Build relationships
Relationships with mentors matter.
Find a great mentor to talk to regularly. I wish someone had reminded me about
the importance of relationship building. As the saying goes, “People don’t care
what you know until they know how much you care.” I have learned that building
successful relationships is about displaying a genuine concern for the sanctity
of people. When I first became chair, I was admonished by a previous supervisor
for “showing too much care and concern” for people. It was suggested that I
would never become an effective leader if I did so. Through experience,
however, I have found the opposite to be true, and I am truly grateful. I have
established great relationships with people in every office on campus. I speak
with the physical plant staff in the same manner I do the faculty, cafeteria
staff, library staff, coaching staff, or the academic dean and students. This
simple gesture has proved invaluable. When I am in need, these people assist me
in unimaginable ways and do so with a smile. Much can be said about one’s
leadership style when people are willing to do things for a leader because they
want to rather than have to.
5. Prioritize by saying no
Finally, I wish someone had told
me about the importance of learning to say no. It is often said, “Your yes
means nothing unless you can say no.” This last lesson is a tough one
for me. I am still learning the art of saying no. The demands of the position
mean I cannot be all things to all people. There are many items, which I simply
cannot say no, however much I would like to. There are many worthwhile
endeavors I would like to say yes to that I simply cannot. I am still
attempting to devise an effective strategy to help me prioritize the nos,
but for now, yes is still winning the battle. My no is gaining
traction, however, and I sense I am moving in the right direction. I plan to
keep working on my no for I am sure it will end up being my saving
grace. Until I am proficient at saying no, I will continue to reflect on the
other lessons I have learned. They have already helped to ease my transition from
faculty member to chair.
Serving as the youngest division
chair has been a rewarding challenge. Youth has taught me lessons that only she
can teach. Perhaps there is a benefit to being young. This position has
afforded me the time to grow and learn from my mistakes. My youth has provided
me with the flexibility and resiliency needed to weather the academic storms. Thus
far, I am still here and learning one of the most valuable lessons of all. The
lesson of how youth gives birth to hope. I no longer think of myself as the
youngest chair in the division. Instead, I think of myself as the most hopeful
yet humble chair in the division.
Tywana L. Chenault, PhD, serves
as the chair of humanities, education, and social sciences at Voorhees College.
Her research interests include student learning, faculty development, African
diasporic studies, cross-cultural psychology, and teaching specific student
populations.
