Ambitious Discernment

 Guest Post by Renée Cramer

When I left my first tenure-track job, my department chair reassured me that he had seen the moving coming.  “Of course you’re moving on.  You’re ambitious,” he said, and shrugged – then hastened to add, “which I mean as a compliment.”  Of course he added that: it was the early 2000s and ambitious women were still suspect.  I imagine we still are, honestly.

He was wrong.  I wasn’t taking a new position because of ambition.  In fact, leaving that first job felt decidedly unambitious: I had just had a baby, and somewhere in the throes of post-partum anxiety, I decided that I couldn’t raise him in south Los Angeles County, a maze of freeways monitored constantly by helicopters that flew noisily over our rental.  I was nostalgic for home – for the Midwest – I wanted a yard, and the possibility of buying a house, and zero commute.  I didn’t take just any job, thank goodness – I searched for one that did fit my interests and landed in a place that allowed my professional life to flourish – but I didn’t move because I was ambitious.  I moved because I was a mom, and I was tired, and I didn’t see a sustainable future for my family, if we stayed.

But my department chair was also right.  Though it wasn’t the reason I left that job, I have always been ambitious.  I am the only one of seven children across my two blended families that went to college; I’m one of very few from my small-town graduating class who even left the state; I have a working-class background that means I’ve held jobs for as long as I can remember.  I’ve always worked.  I’ve always been ambitious. And, I’m a perfectionist, so my ambition usually grew at the pace of the responsibilities I was handed – I constantly scanned the horizon for the next thing.

Brooke and I met when we both participated in a Senior Leadership Academy for people in higher education.  The days we spent together during our first in-person gathering in Baltimore were absolutely packed with non-stop learning from a diverse range of college and university leaders.  Every presentation had something valuable in it, and I literally vibrated with the intense joy of being in a room with such highly accomplished and – yes – ambitious people.  In that vein, one presentation stopped me cold.   The presenter of that session was telling us about his job search – he noted all the jobs that he hadn’t been offered, as well as the considerable number of job offers he had declined.

I wasn’t surprised that he hadn’t gotten every job he’d applied for – when my department lists a position we almost always have at least 100 qualified applicants for one job and getting a position in higher ed often feels like winning the lottery.  Rather, I was surprised that he had jobs he had turned down.  And, I was even more surprised by his reasons!  He said things like, “at institution x, the mission wasn’t a good fit for me,” and “at college y, the work culture didn’t feel sustainable,” and “I wouldn’t have brought the necessary skills to be successful at institution z.”

As I listened to him speak, I realized that he knew himself well.  That he knew what he was good at, and what he enjoyed, and what he valued and how he worked.  And that he understood it was important to choose leadership positions that aligned with that knowledge. 

This blew my mind.

All my life, I had taken the next right step of accomplishment.  College done? Grad school is next.  Wrote the Masters? Time to write the dissertation.  Finished with that? Get a job.  Got a job? Publish a book, publish some articles…. The goal of early employed academics is tenure and promotion.  After tenure and promotion?  Well – my ambition was to move from Associate Prof to Full and from department member to Department Chair.  I was following a clear mantra: “go through the doors that open” – though I’m sure it looked more like I was climbing a Jack and the Beanstalk-like ladder.

Let me be clear: I knew what my values were.  I just didn’t know it was legitimate to make decisions about my career, based on whether or not an institution or role aligned with those values!

I was chair for nearly a decade, and truly enjoyed building a department where my colleagues and students could thrive.  Then, I sought the challenge of being Faculty Senate President.  From that position, I fell in love with understanding higher ed from the institution’s-eye-view.  I enjoyed working with our President’s Council, our Board of Trustees, and leaders within Academic Affairs.  I gained perspective on budgeting, scheduling, agenda-setting, and cultural change within universities.  When that year came to an end, I knew I wanted to continue to learn, and continue to lead, but I wasn’t sure in what capacity – I wasn’t sure where my skills were – and I wasn’t sure what the next right step was. 

All my life, I had taken the next right step of accomplishment, without asking myself what it was I hoped to accomplish. I had gone through the doors that opened for me, without choosing which ones to knock on, in particular.  I’m thrilled it worked out – but I also know that it left me at risk for burn-out, and at risk for ending up somewhere I didn’t want to be, doing work I didn’t want to do. I was accomplishing for the sake of accomplishment. I was at risk of saying yes to anything.

When Brooke and I decided to work together on discerning our individual career goals, I gave myself permission to think through my next steps in a very different way.  I asked myself what I wanted in my professional life (leadership at the institutional, not unit/college level).  What kind of institutions I wanted to serve (small and private, but committed to access and equity).  What kind of institutional culture I was best suited for (moderately high risk tolerance, accountable to the community, strong leadership at the executive level).  I asked myself what skills I have (clear communication, project management, philanthropic engagement, and facilitation of conversation and action), and what skills I still needed to develop (personnel and budget management, business process development, shifting from a faculty point of view to a leader’s).  And, I asked myself if I was ready to move (not yet).

I made my discernment effort public.  I presented to our Dean’s and Provost’s Council about what I’d learned at the workshop.  I asked members of those bodies to help me in discernment by sharing their paths to leadership, their daily schedules, their mistakes and their celebrations.  When Brooke and I presented on our discernment work to other leadership cohorts, I boldly stated that my ultimate goal is a college presidency, as I think it is the best match for my skills and interests.

This meant that I made my ambition public, too – which felt vulnerable.  I reminded myself of what that department chair had told me years ago – that I was ambitious, and to take it as a compliment.  But I also reminded myself what I had learned in Baltimore: ambition for ambition’s sake isn’t enough – I need to know what I’m moving toward, rather than what I’m running from.  In Baltimore, I realized that much of my ambition (and therefore much of my success) has been rooted in a desire to leave, rather than a desire to stay.  It’s been caused by a desire to improve my circumstances, not to improve the place where I had landed (though I was glad when I could).  Ambition often manifested in my need and desire to prove myself, but not to ask myself if what I engaged in was useful – desirable –  good – or even reasonable.  In other words, my ambition was neither sustainable nor informed by a process of discernment. For a solid two years – much of it spent in the enforced slowed down isolation of pandemic – I took the advice I give my students: I imagined my future, I discerned my next steps, I worked to align my goals with my values.

This March, I successfully sought the job of Deputy Provost for Academic Affairs at my institution.  Earlier today, I finalized my job description and gave it to my team for feedback.  I’m not originating the role, but I have been charged with dramatically revising the portfolio – and in doing so, I’ve had the opportunity to write myself into my dream job.  It took me 6 weeks to write the description – I had more than twenty meetings with stakeholders that the position will touch – and spent uncounted hours in contemplation, visioning, and discerning how I could make a positive impact.   

Because of the two years I spent in discernment, and in conversation with Brooke and others, I was able to ask the questions I needed, and take the time I required, to assemble a portfolio that will let me serve my institution well, honor my strengths and needs, align my values to the efforts I undertake, and grow in my skills, knowledge, and understanding.  I am thrilled that she and I are facilitating a workshop this summer, to help other academics discern their next steps post-tenure, and lean authentically in to where their passions and skills intersect.

In her fabulous memoir, Bravey, Alexi Pappas writes that during her post-Olympic depression, she found that her work “was motivated by running away from failure instead of running toward opportunity.” As she reoriented she reminded herself that “desperation and passion are opposite ends of the same save spectrum, but while passion is a magnet force that attracts success and inspires people, desperation does the opposite.”  I am so grateful that, long before I read that passage, I gave myself the gift of time and community of support, in order to discern the opportunities I wanted to run toward.  Discernment showed me my passion – it can do the same for you.

Renée Ann Cramer is currently Professor and Chair of Law, Politics and Society at Drake University, as well as Herb and Karen Baum Chair of Ethics in the Professions.  Starting officially on July 1, she will be Drake’s Deputy Provost for Academic Affairs where her portfolio includes faculty success and development, and strategic initiatives – prime places for helping to grow integral institutional cultures.  Her most recent book is on the mobilization of midwives; she is working on one that develops the themes you see in this blog.