Tag: Faculty

A recent issue of Liberal Education, a magazine published by the American Association of Colleges and Universities, takes up the issue of the mental health crisis in academia with five excellent pieces on how institutions can enhance student well-being. Two other articles explore how administrators and faculty members should administer self-care. That split is telling, for it sends the tacit message that universities are in the business of setting up systems to support students, but when it comes to employees, you are on your own.

As a dean in the middle of his eighth year in that role, I want to address this gap by sharing tangible steps and practices administrators can use to systematize support for faculty well-being, in the hopes that I might inspire my decanal colleagues at other institutions to experiment with some of the strategies below. While those examples are inspired by my experience in a small, private, comprehensive university setting, most will translate to other environments.

Just to be clear, it makes perfect sense why administrators do not focus on the well-being of their faculty, as a plethora of other responsibilities takes precedence. My own institution is a case in point, for while our deans’ responsibilities document calls on us to provide “recognition, encouragement, and support for the work faculty are doing,” the emphasis is on the labor produced by faculty rather than on their well-being. Such support work is often elided institutionally by more pressing and more measurable tasks tied to the operations of the university.

This elision has been especially acute over the past half decade, as universities and colleges wrestle with a brutal collision of challenges, including enrollment pressures, budget cuts, student unrest, attacks on DEI, program prioritization, AI challenges and so on. When faced with such a list of horrors, though, I conclude that support of faculty well-being has never been more important, given the weight of these pressures on professors.

Deans (as well as other leaders) can embrace the following strategies to enhance the well-being of their faculty. Most of them do not cost any money.

• Protect faculty’s time. Because time is the most valuable currency of faculty life, think about how you can protect that precious resource. Because the “university bureaucracy … inevitably consumes the time and attention of its subjects to justify its existence,” according to Cal Newport, deans should consider how they can shield faculty from the pressures of the neoliberal, bureaucratic machine that thrives on forms, reports and trainings. Focus on work that is directly mission-aligned and create efficiencies in required processes like accreditation reports, tenure and promotion review, and budget management so that faculty are free to concentrate on their students and research.

Newport also laments that our technocentric workplace—an environment “defined by hyperactive digital distraction and onerous administrative burdens”—has converted faculty into middle managers, ultimately “strangling productivity and making [them] miserable.” Therefore, ask yourself if that latest email update to your faculty is really necessary.

Speaking of email, try to lay off the communication outreach outside of business hours—it’s the rare issue that requires immediate attention from faculty at 10 p.m. on a Tuesday. Use your email’s delay-delivery function liberally. And the tag appended to your signature line announcing that you “may work outside regular business hours and thus don’t expect an immediate reply from recipients” still does not stop the issue from landing on the psychological plate of faculty and could be misinterpreted as merely a passive-aggressive signal that you are working when others are not.

• Acknowledge mental health challenges. It’s tough out there: Data show that higher ed employees are feeling burned out, with more than half of faculty and staff respondents in one recent survey saying “their job took a negative toll on their mental or emotional health.” More than a third pointed to their work supporting the emotional needs of students as having an impact on their own mental well-being. Recognizing that faculty in my own unit were being stretched thin as a consequence of their extraordinary efforts supporting students during the COVID-19 pandemic, I invited two of the university’s mental health counselors to visit our annual retreat to help faculty reset boundaries that had eroded during the past few years, to offer them insight into the mental health challenges of students and, most importantly, to give faculty permission to say no to unreasonable student requests.

• Defend faculty’s academic freedom. A recent AAC&U survey shows faculty are feeling enormous pressure from external attacks on academic freedom, and they are struggling to navigate these treacherous waters inside and outside the classroom. Such anxieties will most likely accelerate over the next four years. According to the survey, “more than one out of three faculty report that they feel more constrained, compared with six or seven years ago, in their ability to speak freely” in terms of classroom content, faculty governance and even as a citizen. About half are self-censoring—even statements they believe to be true—for fear of “drawing negative attention.”

Faculty see their academic leaders—deans and provosts—as chiefly responsible for protecting those freedoms, so we should be ready to stand up for faculty if they do come under attack. But in the meantime, deans must also acknowledge and support the well-being of faculty, which happens to be the final recommendation of the AAC&U report: “Even as legislative actions and the mercurial nature of politics may feel beyond institutional control, colleges and universities must find ways to support faculty mental health.”

• Lead with empathy. When life intrudes or a family tragedy strikes, necessitating that a faculty member step away from their work unexpectedly, deans can give the imprimatur of the institution for faculty to redirect their emotional energy away from work and toward the personal matter at hand. A small change in wording in replying to their unfortunate news can make a world of difference. Instead of a curt email like “thanks for letting me know,” try something a bit more proactive: “I’m so sorry to hear this difficult news. Please know that we’ve got things covered for you so that you can focus your attention where it belongs, on your loved ones. Please let me know if there’s any way I can help with that project.”

• Walk the talk. The narrative of faculty “going to the dark side” of administration and immediately forgetting the needs of their professorial colleagues is as old as the university itself, but one consequence of that narrative is that the resultant distrust, anger and suspicion can wear on the well-being of faculty. One approach to bridging that gulf is to demonstrate you are still in touch with the needs of faculty by standing in their shoes. The most obvious way to send that signal is to teach one class annually as a dean. If presidents can do it, certainly we can find a way.

For me, this gesture was never more important than during the COVID-19 pandemic, as faculty were asked to pivot online with one week of warning and changes to protocols (wipe down the surfaces, stay behind the plastic shields, support students in quarantine) came down from on high at a dizzying pace. Standing beside my faculty in the classroom gave my requests during that difficult time extra weight. Likewise, make sure you are visible at the university’s latest Title IX training, attend required orientations and share tips learned from navigating your institution’s new frustratingly opaque HR system so that faculty know you are not exempt from such institutional responsibilities.

• Own your mistakes. Being quick to admit your errors—both small and large—models for faculty that it is OK to fail, thus lowering the emotional pressure they may be feeling to perform, particularly junior faculty. Mea culpas from a leader may even encourage risk-taking and innovation in your unit. If an electronic form for faculty prepared by an administrative assistant does not work, that is on the dean for not checking it before its distribution, and you should say so. I once mishandled a conflict between faculty members and apologized afterward to faculty for not doing better. Taking Augustine’s dictum to heart—“fallor, ergo sum” (I err, therefore I am)—will humanize the dean and hopefully make you more approachable when faculty need support.
• Advocate for faculty. One of the great pleasures of the dean’s role is your ability to advocate for your unit and its personnel. Letting faculty know you’ve got their backs and that you are always on the lookout for opportunities they might find exciting can help ground them mentally. Connecting them with a conference opportunity, suggesting them for a speaking gig or putting their name forward for a professional development workshop gives faculty confidence that they have someone in a position of power looking out for them, even in the face of all the uncertainties currently plaguing higher ed. Likewise, making professional development funds easier to access makes it less stressful for faculty who want to improve their craft.
• Know your faculty’s work and recognize their achievements. As president of Princeton, Harold Shapiro used to read one book per week by his faculty members and even attended lectures to better understand their work and what they cared about. I would be hard-pressed to think of another gesture by a leader that might gratify an academic colleague more. Other signals of support can include a private note of congratulations or a “well done” at a university function. Following the mantra of “criticize in private and praise in public,” recognize faculty achievement at unit meetings, alumni gatherings and in email blasts, and do so for a wider variety of achievements beyond major grants, publications or teaching awards.
• Provide stability. With new strategic plans coming down the pike every few years, administrative churn resulting in continuously shifting priorities, and constant requests to cut budgets while also innovating, the dean has the unique opportunity to provide a modicum of stability for their faculty in terms of processes and practices, consistent timelines and the unit’s strategic direction. In the face of turmoil across the larger institution, establishing your own unit as a sea of tranquility—as much as is possible—will be welcome. Parroting the institution’s “hair on fire” ethos is not helpful.
• Bring faculty into the decision-making loop. Anxiety can surface when we do not feel in control of our circumstances, especially during times of crisis. While it is difficult to counter the many macro pressures facing higher ed, deans can give faculty some sense of ownership over your school’s direction by soliciting feedback on matters that go beyond those identified in the faculty manual, whether it is the unit’s fundraising focus for the year, locations for retreats or approaches to space allocation. Not all will be interested in participating, but faculty will appreciate being asked. On the flip side, no one’s mental health ever improved by being micromanaged by a supervisor: Give your faculty room to breathe.
• Surface inequities—and then do something about them. Service work across units tends not to be distributed equitably: Women and faculty of color do more than their fair share. That is unacceptable, and deans are in position to right this wrong through strategies I have discussed previously. Systemizing equity policies instead of forcing faculty to depend on the good will of supervisors will also lessen the anxiety of faculty with the least power to say no.

On a related note, deans can play a role in supporting faculty of color, LGBTQ+ faculty and other minoritized faculty in light of the overtly hostile national (and sometimes state) climate that gets expressed through attacks on DEI programming, the hollowing out of the curriculum and demonization of personnel. Tokenism, microaggressions and overt discrimination in the white, heteronormative space of the academy provide daily challenges for minoritized faculty. William A. Smith’s concept of “racial battle fatigue” is unfortunately alive and well in higher education, and deans can support their personnel suffering under the weight of that trauma not only by enacting policies that advance equity and inclusion, but also by offering to listen, intervening when invited and endorsing strategies of self-care.

• Create community. Individuals who do not have a strong sense of community typically have greater odds for experiencing mental health challenges. While I am certainly not suggesting the workplace stand in for family or friend groups, deans have the opportunity to create community in their academic units in ways that will enhance faculty well-being, whether that be through annual retreats where faculty can deepen personal relationships with each other or the establishment of a strong culture and clarity around a unit’s mission, so that faculty buy-in for the unit’s work will excite and unite personnel.

When I recently reviewed my annual dean’s evaluations from faculty for the past two years, anonymous respondents repeatedly highlighted in their optional narrative comments the following features of my leadership: commitment to faculty, listening and helping faculty feel heard, creating community, providing support, evincing compassion and care, and relationship-building. These qualities all fall under the faculty well-being umbrella, so it is worth honoring such faculty voices as we choose, as deans, where to focus our attention and request that universities fold these responsibilities into administrative job descriptions.