HLC’s Critique of Shared Governance at SXU

[NOTE: For an explanation of my commitment to “bearing witness,” please see this post.]

April 12, 2022

Saint Xavier University, once again, finds itself at a crossroads. After a Higher Learning Commission (HLC) accreditation review that resulted in reaccreditation (but only after the raising of concerns, some of which involved sharp critique), our institution must plan a return visit before January 31, 2024, and we must show progress in the interim.

The critiques centered on issues of trust. The HLC report writers commented on how several people they interviewed from both sides of the divide, faculty and administrators, made the point that “they individually had never personally encountered such an antagonistic work environment fueled by diametrically divergent perspectives and professional objectives.” The HLC reviewers’ critique was directed at members of both the faculty and administration. The words, “toxic,” “dysfunctional,” “bullying,” “badgering,” “dismissive,” “contemptuous,” “disrespectful,” “unprofessional,” “sexist,” and “dismissive” were used, pretty much in equal balance, though ascribed to one or the other group.

As could be expected, the reviewers made reference to the May 28, 2020 decision by the university to discontinue Collective Bargaining with the faculty union and the Faculty Affairs Committee. I was involved in that crisis, pretty much at the center, as I was Chair of the Faculty Affairs Committee (FAC), and it was I, along with Associate Chair, Jackie Battalora, and our attorney, Robert Bloch, who was on the phone when the Board of Trustees Chair, Trish Morris announced the university’s decision.

The interim monitoring called for by HLC includes several steps aimed at rectifying what the reviewers saw in their site visit, our documents, and our apparent institutional culture. SXU must, as an entire community at every level, including the Board of Trustees, engage in professional development in the area of shared governance. We must engage in an assessment of shared governance. We must work to strengthen our culture and reduce distrust. Guiding the initiatives in this regard should be the work of an independent third-party consultant who will report out to the entire community.

I hope that, as part of the process our community engages in, we can produce a full report on just what led up to the May 28 phone call, and what has transpired since. I understand that several colleagues from both sides of our divisions would prefer not to rehash old wounds, and instead would rather move on—either out of pragmatism, or hopelessness, or annoyance, or frustration at the impracticality and inadvisability of litigating old grievances. I don’t want to revisit arcana from collective bargaining dynamics that produced conflict and impasses. But if we’re talking about building trust, all parties need to feel listened to and respected. Before and since May 28, I have been criticized in ways that have been equally hurtful as they are misinformed or distorted from the facts of what transpired. 

Bearing Witness as a Starting Point

I will say it again: I don’t wish to summarize the “he-said, she-said” episodes of negotiations and email wars and accusations and power moves made during the period of breakdown.

What I want to do is to bear witness to my experience as a Saint Xavier faculty member and as a human being and as a scholar of rhetoric and literature. I’ll begin with the last: Our Western literary tradition from the Bible to Dante to Jane Austen to Disney teaches us that “Pride goes before the fall” (Proverbs 16:18). Pride is the ur-sin, the sin from which all others derive. So, I ask: was I too proud in my approach to problem solving during the troubled negotiations? 

Of course I was. All of us were, on both sides, in my opinion. We all approached negotiations as “power players,” perhaps, understandably, out of a perception of necessity for a good end. I think both sides viewed power as the best tool or means to an end, rather than as an exercise of a personal need or ego gratification. But the exercise of power was, and perhaps still is, favored by most over genuine problem solving through respectful compromise. Let’s look at the power dynamics of both sides.

FAC’s Power: On our side, FAC was able to operate in a more demanding way than other committees at SXU. The administration was legally obligated to share information, negotiate, and work with us as a more or less equal partner—all in the context of tenured faculty exercising free speech. The Faculty Affairs Committee had some tremendous assets at its disposal: a long tradition of successful negotiations that brought faculty strong benefits (and staff too, through a long-respected tradition of matching staff provisions to those afforded through collective bargaining with the faculty). We had highly experienced negotiators. We had, I believe, a balanced and compromising attitude; we had earned credibility from the other side (at least in prior administrations) through our support of opening the contract in times of need. We had strong data; we had informed and beneficial opinions undergirding our attitudes.

Of course, not everyone agreed with FAC, even among faculty colleagues, and during the time of SXU’s financial crisis, several critics from both sides were quick to wave their hand, so as to indict all past administrators and faculty groups like FAC as being equally responsible for the troubled state of affairs.

But in any case, I wish to bear witness to my pride in thinking that FAC would prevail; I truly believed the Administration would not try to abolish the union! I truly believed we had a win-win dynamic, where the welfare of the entire institution was best ensured through a balanced agreement, with strong provisions for all who might merit them. Surely, (I thought) we will all come to our senses and find a suitable consensus. Others were more clear-eyed about the imminent danger to FAC’s future, and of course those individuals were correct. With one exception, perhaps, we all on FAC were somewhat prideful in our engagements with the Administration. We were, in polite but firm and intellectually aggressive ways, poised for combat and victory, even if the means were through respectful, but always challenging argumentation. An exception among our members who was not noticeably prideful (in my opinion) would be Arunas Dagys, the paragon of pragmatism, who, if he could just follow his instincts unchecked by the necessarily collaborative give and take required by committee work, would have found a way to “make it work”—find an agreement that might have forestalled an event like May 28.

Administration’s Power: Afflicted as I and others on the committee were by the incentives of “power moves,” we were up against an administration that knew, it would seem, only power moves. Some of their moves were obvious and ineffective, but many did work, and of course, the faculty union has been crushed. The hiring of an anti-union lawyer sealed the deal at the onset, closing off safe and collaborative dialogue before it could get started. The refusal to discuss negotiation matters outside of a formal setting involving lawyers prevented the thawing of tensions. The setting of ultimatums (e.g., a deadline to accept the Rollover proposal in summer so as to make genuine discussion among the faculty unlikely or impossible); the slow-walking of communications and proposal-sharing; the harshness of critique—up to the point of slandering of the committee—in characterizing the slow rate of progress: all these tactics and more prevented any kind of transcendence out of a pure power dynamic as our only way forward.

But now, as I stated at the onset, we are at a crossroads again. I hope the institution might respond to HLC’s interim monitoring in a truly constructive and less power-oriented way. I hope there can be a genuine assessment of shared governance, aside from the question of how this process might be engineered to result in more control or more effective implementation of an agenda. I hope there might be some genuine attempts to bridge the divisions that pull perilously at the fabric of our community. 

As we step back, I hope, from pure power moves, we might wish to consider shifting our terminology. “Governance,” possibly inescapably, puts us on the slope of power moves. I wonder if “stewardship” might be a better term, as it is more oriented to service and welfare. Is not shared governance, at its most elemental, about good stewardship? As an activity, stewardship stretches back into the past and helps us preserve what may still be of service. And, as a vocation, it helps us reach across into an unknown future. If stewardship is what we all shared, might we have a better chance to acquire the tools and build the team that will be needed for our continued efficacy?

Launching “True Saint Xavier”

This Thanksgiving, when the upheavals of our recent years still sting us and bring sadness, I find myself being thankful for an old colleague, gone now for several years. His spirit is needed. He harkens back to (what now seems to be) a make-believe time of hope and camaraderie.

A group of us is launching a new website, “truesaintxavier.org,” as yet another effort to fight the good fight for the welfare of our students, our programs, our heritage, and our legacy. We think Saint Xavier has lost its way, (or has been hijacked), and we hold out hope that we still have time to right the balance, adjust our waywardness, and step into a more secure future.

In looking through my files for material to include at the new site, I came across an email from Richard Fritz from 2010. He shared his message with the “Faculty Only” listserv. It’s a response to the crisis of 2010, which led to the University’s reduction of its retirement match by 50%. SXU had had a rather generous match—10% (or was it 11%?)—but as a result of the financial crisis of the Dwyer-Piros administration, the University asked faculty to sacrifice—temporarily, as understood by many—so as to tide over the institution in a difficult time.

Richard died in 2017 after a devastating illness that gave him some time to prepare, but not enough, and not the right kind, and not with the right kind of leave taking. As if there could be such a thing.

Though Richard and I were colleagues for two decades, I really didn’t get to know him until his final years at SXU when we served together on the Faculty Affairs Committee. Richard had always intimidated me somewhat. He was tall, with a piercing intellect and passionate commitments, a good beard and sports coat, a born academic. He was one of those persons who seemed to stand for so much more than a single faculty colleague could stand for, and he was prone to lecturing (if I could say such a thing in a positive sense).

I thought I might break through in my intimidation after I found out he was close friends with one of my close friends from college days, Anne Marie. They were neighbors, and to hear Anne Marie speak of him as a friend and neighbor was disconcerting to me, and even when I worked with him on FAC, I only rarely mustered the courage to have one-on-ones with him. But we did have those conversations, and I grew to love him—both for himself, and for the way he epitomized for me the “long-term associate professor” who made it his mission to care for his students, above all else, as his “love language,” or more, his raison d’etre for being an academic. 

There was something stentorian about Richard—but often with a quaver in his voice in public speaking. Whatever it was, when he spoke, it was important. At faculty meetings, there would occasionally be a Richard speech. In elegant sentences, with rising emotion, he put the focus on students. No one could gainsay he was an excellent teacher. I had a little more—or different—insight to his teaching than most others at SXU, since my daughter Genevieve was a sociology major, and she had discovered that Dr. Fritz was “that professor” who was to be the influence, the guide for her academic journey, a mentor she could respect and appreciate her whole life. 

She had more Richard stories than I. And she had that kind of context that encapsulates, I would argue, the “true Saint Xavier.” When she would begin a sentence with “Dr. Fritz says…” we knew some insight … and a lot of heart would be shared. Richard always spoke highly of nurses and teachers, and so he scored points with both my wife (a nurse) and me in these moments when he was quoted back to us during family dinners, debates, and just being together.

So, as we launch “True Saint Xavier,” I want to invoke Richard’s spirit. But I have another layer to add on first. That additional layer is an email message I wrote and sent to a group of colleagues about 18 months ago, just after the SXU administration withdrew their recognition of the faculty union. That was when I first rediscovered Richard’s email of January 5, 2010:

From: Angelo Bonadonna <abonadon@sbcglobal.net>
Subject: A Voice and a Message, Both Lost
Date: July 24, 2020 at 11:46:48 AM CDT
To: ***
 
Dear Colleagues—Yesterday, when searching my records for the year of the retirement match reduction (it was 10 years ago(!)—in 2010), I came across this email from Richard Fritz. It’s Richard at his best, and in telling the story of past sacrifice, he captured a bit of the soul of the SXU faculty, administration, and community—all in a way that seems so other-worldly these days.
 
I’m not sure what can be done with a message like this one. It’s more than just nostalgia that prompts me to share it now and ask you to consider what might be done with it, as we move forward to mobilize our colleagues. Richard’s is one of the voices that has been silenced—not directly by this administration, of course. But I worked closely with Richard in his last years at SXU, and it was clear to me that the institution was breaking his heart. Much, I’m sure, can be said about current conditions and leadership approaches—how they make the attitude and rhetoric that came so readily and naturally to Richard ten years ago impossible to conceive today.
 
The video documentary that Genevieve will be distributing in draft form in a few days has, as one of its themes, “the silencing of faculty voice.” I’d like to ask Gen (who revered Dr. Fritz) to consider dedicating the video “to the memory and mission of Richard Fritz, and all the lost voices of SXU…”
 
In the meantime, this Friday afternoon, take a moment to be with Richard a bit!  —Angelo
From: Fritz, Richard B.
Sent: Tue 1/5/2010 3:42 PM
To: Appel, Florence A.; Faculty-Only List
Subject: Dire Circumstances Redux
 
Dear Colleagues:
 
In the early 1990s (I believe it was 1993), the university found itself with an unexpected debt.  We were between two to three million dollars short of the amount required to pay our bills.  The situation was serious.  Several staff members were laid off and the administration scrambled to find ways to fill the gap.  There was talk of the university folding.  They were very unsettled times.  Scary and disheartening.
 
Several faculty meetings were convened; all were very well attended.  Numerous faculty members spoke up to discuss our role in solving the problem.  Dozens and dozens of ideas were proposed, every single one of which involved financial sacrifices on our part.  It was clear that the faculty understood the gravity of the situation.  It was also apparent that each and every one of us loved the university and were willing to go to great lengths to save it.
 
A solution was found.  In consultation with the administration, the Board of Trustees, and their faculty colleagues, the Faculty Affairs Committee created a voluntary “give back” program in which faculty members could reduce their salary by a certain percentage (I think it was 7%, but I’m not sure) for the remainder of the year (roughly seven or eight months).  Those who accepted the voluntary reduction would have a matching amount added to their pay check the following year.  As I remember, over 70% of the faculty participated.  It is not an exaggeration to say that this simple remedy saved the university.  Everyone, including the administration and Board of Trustees, acknowledged that the salary reduction program was the key factor in returning to economic stability.
 
The beauty of the program was that it did not require opening up the contract.  The program was voluntary, and therefore was not a “collectively bargained” agreement in the formal meaning. It was, in a sense, a collective faculty offer to pitch in.  The program did not impose universal participation.  There was no praise for participating, no stigma for not participating.  In fact, most people didn’t know who participated and who did not.  People gave back because they thought it was necessary and because they thought it would help.
 
Here we are again.  We didn’t ask for this (we didn’t the first time, either).  But we will help.  There is absolutely no doubt of that.  We, the faculty, love Saint Xavier.  It is more than just a job.  It is a place that transforms our students lives and gives meaning to our careers.  You all know what I’m saying, and could probably say it better.  The point is, we will not let the university fail.  We will do our part.
 
But as in the past, we must make our contributions wisely.  We must know what we are doing so that we can ensure that it will  work.  We must know the extent of the problem and the exact nature of the salutary effects of our contribution.  Will it be enough?  Too much?  Will it stabilize the institution?  And what assurances will we have that this problem won’t happen again?
 
Also, anything we do must be done in full concert with the Board of Trustees.  They are responsible for the financial well being of the university. Any contribution we make is virtually meaningless unless it is coordinated with their master plan.
 
In the past, FAC generated a solution that saved the university.  The current Faculty Affairs Committee has members who are both experienced and creative.  One member, Brian McKenna, served as a faculty representative to the Board of Trustees for many, many years.  He knows how they think and how they function.  Others, including Flo Appel, Norm Boyer, Suzanne Kimble, and Peter Hilton were here the last time we went through this.  Their leadership, in collaboration with Interim President Durante and the Board of Trustees, is central to solving this problem. I don’t know what kind of solution will be offered.  Perhaps it will involve reductions in retirement contributions or perhaps salary paybacks.  Whatever they decide, I trust Interim President Durante and our Faculty leaders to guide us to a solution in a collaborative, equitable, and timely fashion.
 
Richard Fritz
Sociology Dept.

SXU and HLC: Who gets the (dis)credit?

November 4, 2021

The recent online discussion among colleagues who assess the current Administration of SXU in opposite ways has led me to reflect, once again, on where we are as an institution. As I prepare my comments for HLC next week, I find myself reflecting on issues like agreements and disagreements and how to navigate them fully and respectfully, “love/hatred of SXU,” sabotage/”disruption” of HLC, and, perhaps most of all, how so many of us feel traumatized and depressed by institutional life at this university in 2021—where the conflicts and destabilizations of our own community are compounded by those prevalent throughout both higher education and our society as a whole .

Suffice to say, the SXU community is divided on how best to plan for, invest in, and pursue its future. Some point to the current administration as being instrumental in turning the university around, making operations leaner, saving money, and investing in programs in new ways so as to focus and strengthen the SXU “brand.” Others point to the administration as weakening longstanding programs, creating end-arounds on faculty ownership of the curriculum, reducing the role of faculty input, damaging established governance structures and processes, and promoting a climate of perpetual crisis and need to anticipate potential crises on the horizon.

Both sides seem motivated by worthy intentions to shape the university into a sustainable and successful institution of education. Their means and ends vary. Divisions abound—among those who have been long-serving and those who are newly hired; among those serving in tenured and those in non-tenured roles; among staff and faculty members; among those in the president’s inner circle and those not; among those who are well-compensated and those who are not; among pragmatists and justice seekers; and more.

Not enough has been done to heal divisions. I have been a vocal critic of the president and of those I’ve considered her enablers, and so, I must accept some responsibility in not always promoting the conditions of unity. I have placed blame at the feet of the president and Board of Trustees for promoting divisions and ignoring pleas for conversations and joint problem solving. I believe that the current administration has embraced a dynamic of “you’re with us or you’re against us.” I believe their actions have been power moves above all else and strategizing for strengthening their base and weakening opposition.

My convictions along these lines have prevented me from adopting a more balanced rhetoric.

This semester in my Rhetoric, Writing, and Society class, we have studied some alternatives to the (essentially male) rhetorical tradition that focuses on persuasion and argumentation by proofs to get the audience to accept a pre-established conclusion that the speaker (as a kind of leader) would have the audience accept. In contrast, certain versions of emerging feminist rhetoric place less emphasis on “changing the audience,” or even “adapting the message to the audience,” and instead features “bearing witness” of a speaker, who often attempts to relay the ways in which they have been hurt, but yet who, often with  brutal honesty, confide their own weaknesses, contradictions, and deficiencies—all in an effort to “raise consciousness” and possibly enlist humanizing consubstantiality of other conflicted, complex individuals.

Karlyn Kohrs Campbell presents the outlines of a feminist rhetoric that features personal, concrete, and individual experience—even in addressing exigent circumstances that carry life and death implications—and that would seem to require focused and directed or “led” collective action. In contradiction to a traditionally rhetorical, “persuasive” response, a feminist response could be oriented around consciousness raising as the sine qua non or starting point:

The only effective response to the sensation of being threatened existentially is a rhetorical act that treats the personal, emotional, and concrete directly and explicitly, that is dialogic and participatory, that speaks from personal experience to personal experience.

“The Rhetoric of Women’s Liberation”

And so, what would it look like if those of us on opposite sides of our SXU chasm were to attempt such rhetoric?

Even now as I write with a conscious desire to take a more unifying stance, as I try to bear witness to my experience, rather than call out the misdeeds of others, I find myself rehearsing my grievances, unable to let go of the rationales, defenses, attacks … the list of breakdowns, the threats … that I “know could be remedied, if only”—If we just could come to the table, direct our energies, and start pulling in the same direction. That is, I am trapped by my traditional, argumentative, prove-my-point, male rhetoric that ever propels me to shout, louder and louder, the validity of my thesis.

How do I retrench? My own history has been full of so much emotion and heartache; I should have little trouble being “personal, emotional, and concrete.”

In bearing witness, I have to ask, “How did I become a ‘faculty leader’?” It is not something I sought, and for many reasons: I am not a particularly good public speaker; I am not the best informed on the history of issues; I don’t think well on my feet; I am one who will always shift the focus from specific tasks at hand to some kind of “larger picture”—that, whatever its value, would always seem to subvert timely action. But when I was offered the position to lead—first, through mere representation on the Faculty Affairs Committee, and then to the position of chairperson, I felt that I did possess certain strengths that might be of help—qualities of character, emotional maturity, patience, right-sized ego, courage, right-sized assertiveness, general goodwill, and—yes—love of SXU, where 3 of my children have graduated, where, in 1996, my wife, an Irish Catholic, and I, an Italian Catholic, both alums of Loyola University, felt blessed to be able to plan on setting down roots and becoming members of a campus that reinforced the best aspects of our Catholic identity—both for ourselves and our young children who might someday attend. I felt the integrity of my intentions in accepting a leadership role would compensate for my deficiencies of leadership and organization. The challenges were all-consuming, but the work, ultimately, led to responsible purpose and action.

Much of the difficulty of serving on a faculty committee involves the “herding of cats” problem that ensues when so many independent, intelligent, and often strong-willed people, as faculty are, find themselves trying to organize and serve a collective purpose. There were divisions in FAC, as there were in the general community, and those divisions could be intense and stymieing.

Yet, above FAC’s divisions was a deep consubstantiality of the value of the committee’s work. For years we had had such exemplary leadership from colleagues like Arunas Dagys. I say “colleagues like,” though truth be told, I’ve never seen another like him. He’s larger than life—physically, emotionally, morally. He exudes strength, humility, and pragmatism all in equal doses, all with confidence and intelligence and resilience. I hesitate to call Arunas my mentor, for fear that I, in my failures, might cast some shadow over his excellences. I don’t mean to be sycophantic in my adulation, but I know no proper way to “eulogize” Arunas. Whether or not he was my mentor, he was certainly my inspiration.

I think of my failures when I relive the phone call of May 28, when Board Chair, Patricia Morris, with a quaver in her voice, in the “presence” of me, Associate Chair Jackie Battalora, and our attorney, Robert Bloch (“presence” in quotes because the message was sent via a conference call in those early days of the pandemic) took a stab at faculty governance and severed the university’s longstanding relationship with both the union and the Faculty Affairs Committee. Even then, I, in my arrogance thought “This will not stand.” Or I was, “Okay, okay…our move. We’ve got Robert Bloch. We got a new faculty unity. We have a new approach of exposing in public and with reason and professional calm and direct statement.”

But I was foolhardy to have hope, and that hope has not been helpful, and the damage done by FAC’s arrogance to take on the president rather than retrenching and waiting her out and preserving the union structure is inestimable. Throughout my time as chair, I would rehearse the first principle of the Hippocratic Oath: “First, do no harm.” And here it was: under my watch, the university union was crushed. My ensuing depression centers on this failure. And a vortex of anger and disappointment and licking of wounds has left me confused and despondent, but also scrambling, as I find my resilience, fortunately, has not reached its limit.

For one, I mustn’t elevate my role so as to take on that full responsibility. The truth is that the May 28th action was but the logical endpoint of many prior actions, all set in motion through a decision made years earlier in the hiring by the university of an expensive anti-labor law firm. This action, while regrettable, was not illegal, or perhaps not even immoral. But as Arunas’s voice echoes in my head: it was not pragmatic—not in the “big” sense of pragmatic, the sense that the union and the university could work together to find a sustainable path that protected all with some basic minimums of compensation and working conditions that laid the necessary groundwork for future developments. Arunas’s rhetoric of pragmatism was always so persuasive, since its fruits, always, were so visible in principled decisions over many years that featured the big view of sustainability. “Neither side should be allowed to game the system.” And in listening to the comparisons, analyses, and solutions he would propose in recommending policies, it was clear he had done his homework, a lot of it.

The busting of the union struck me to my core. Beyond the personal disappointment in myself for not knowing how to sidestep this disaster, there was the transformation of SXU, there was the setback to the labor movement in world-historical terms, there was the collective failure—of the FAC group to unify the faculty, but also of the faculty to understand what was happening, to trust the leaders as to implications, to commit to doing whatever was possible to forestall permanent damage, and to honor the tradition that had been built, with such promise and potential, for 40 years.

The PR campaign of the administration to point fingers at FAC for the decision they made also hurt. For the year prior to the action, public communications between Admin and FAC were strained, verging on hostile, while always delivered under some veneer of professionalism. But there was a dishonesty, slander even, in many characterizations of our committee by the Administration. We were accused of distributing “erroneous, flawed, and misleading” data; despite our proofs of the correctness of our information, no retraction of such accusations took place. In one notable public slander made directly by the president, we were blamed for the decision not to record negotiation sessions; and post-May 28, we were accused, without evidence, of behaviors and advocacies on our part that led to the breakdown in negotiations.

The slander, mischaracterizations, and imputing of motives by the Administration were indignities, yes, but most of all they hurt me as a person. To quote another feminist critic, Natanson, the hurt is more than just a passing blow:

When an argument hurts me, cuts me, or cleanses and liberates me it is not because a particular stratum or segment of my world view is shaken up or jarred free but because I am wounded or enlivened—I in my particularity, and that means in my existential immediacy: feelings, pride, love, and sullenness, the world of my actuality as I live it.

Claims of Immediacy

The busting of the union was unnecessary, immoral, and unproductive—and the hurt it caused me sent me into a depression that, dark as it was, was primarily a private matter of me adjusting to a new reality. I was thrown, as one colleague put it, “into a fugue state” (or was she talking about herself? Not totally clear…). But what happened the next year went beyond me, and beyond the union.

What happened the next year, in the context of Covid, was a barrage of brazen actions by the Administration to solidify their centralized and unchecked power. The counterpart success of unification by the faculty in response produced a strong Senate voice, who pronounced clear and important decisions on matters of bylaws, faculty voice, and curriculum. I needn’t rehearse here the faculty vote of no confidence, the Board’s doubling down in their knee-jerk affirmation of the president’s leadership, the dismissiveness of the entire administration of 2/3 of the faculty in expressing such dissatisfaction with the direction of the university: What FAC had seen in private for the first three years of the Joyner presidency was now laid bare, obviously and loudly, for all to see and hear.

Where are we now? We are as divided as ever. But I hold out hope that, through some adjustment—I hope on the part of all, including me—we can begin moving forward and shore up our mission and collective resolve to realize it in its strongest aspects.

Why I Voted No Confidence in SXU President, Dr. Laurie Joyner

April 13, 2021

Since her appointment in January 2017, Dr. Laurie Joyner has been a controversial leader. For the first year or so of her presidency, I had access to an unusual amount of detailed information about her performance and approach to leadership—the consequence of various university positions I held (associate chair of FAC, department chair, member of several committees). What I experienced in that time led me to question whether the university was on the right path—specifically, whether Dr. Joyner’s leadership posed a greater threat to the viability of the institution than the challenges she was brought in to address. 

Thus, at a union meeting in April 2018 (fifteen months into Dr. Joyner’s administration), I voted with over 60 other faculty to ask our Senate to engage in a research project—one intended to extend, if necessary, over the course of the full academic year, 2018-2019. The goal of this project was to investigate, with fairness, rigor, and thoroughness, the question of whether a vote of no confidence should be taken on Dr. Joyner. Even though by that time, I had concluded that there were serious deficiencies in Dr. Joyner’s approach to faculty, fairness, curriculum, and vision for the university, I realized that my colleagues, for the most part, lacked specific information that would justify such a strong move. But I believed that a dispassionate and thorough look at the facts would build towards a clear conclusion that would be accepted by objective onlookers.

For a variety of reasons—some political, some strategic, some the result of unfortunate divisions in our community, and some the result of the hopeful, generous, and forgiving nature of SXU faculty—the yearlong investigation of the president’s leadership did not take place.

In the intervening months and years, faculty and others have had a chance to see more public evidence of Dr. Joyner’s leadership that has raised questions about her ability to lead us going forward. The turnover of provosts, deans, and important staff leaders, and the reliance on interim appointments, are two indicators of instability and untenable circumstances within her own leadership team. The transformation of the Board of Trustees from a broadly representative group of 20-plus members to a group of less than 10 individuals who show strong and uncritical (and uninformed) support of the president is another troubling indicator. The recent aggressive behavior of the interim provost and deans on a variety of matters—including bylaws changes, proposed program closures, course caps, to name the more contentious issues—has raised awareness and concern among faculty in all three colleges, across disciplines, tenure status, and years of service.

The union busting of this administration is the single most significant breach of trust, and the attempt to change the bylaws is perhaps the most brazen action of the Administration to weaken faculty voice in governance. The rationale repeated often by the Administration and their supporters in the faculty—that the proposed bylaws change was merely editorial clean-up to have our documents align more accurately with our “new reality”—was premised on a falsehood or error (namely, that the discontinuation of collective bargaining with the union was the same thing as the shifting of faculty representation from the Faculty Affairs Committee to Faculty Senate). This matter has yet to be discussed and judged by the full faculty—an omission abetted, unfortunately, by some of our own Faculty Senate leaders. It is not too late for the faculty to conduct this discussion, one that, one hopes, a new leadership team in the university would find both valuable and necessary for the building of a new trust for the future.

The Pro Argument for Dr. Joyner 

President Joyner has succeeded in consolidating her power and cutting costs—both of which outcomes are not dangerous or wrong per se. But the consolidation of power has been characterized by dividing stake holders—faculty and faculty, faculty and staff, faculty and administrators, faculty and the Board of Trustees. The consolidation has created winners and losers. Many disaffected faculty and staff—often key individuals who have built programs and have devoted long and distinguished careers to this institution—have opted to end their association with SXU either through early retirement, a move to another institution of higher learning, or a move out of academia altogether. The consolidation of power has been, in the eyes of many, ruthless (and as prime evidence of this claim, I would point to the pattern of behavior in the university’s march to May 28, 2020, the day the University withdrew its recognition of the faculty union). Many have commented on the president’s micromanaging across the board; some have critiqued her use of “good cop-bad cop” techniques in creating appearances that the source of unpopular changes were underlings and not her. Many have commented on being given directives in private that never were destined to be part of the public record but nevertheless served well to advance the Administration’s agenda.

As for the cutting of costs, Dr. Joyner’s leadership deserves some credit. Under her watch, many expensive professor salaries were cut through various means. First of all, though I’m not sure I would put this in the “credit” column, the emergency cuts of 2015-2016 were made permanent, despite the assurances of the prior administration that the pay cuts were to be temporary. Second, many professors who were nearing retirement were encouraged to retire early under generous buyout provisions, which though defined in the CBA, were completely voluntary on the part of the administration to offer.

Lack of Balance

But how much cutting is too much? With each buyout and reduction in a tenure line, the university both saves money and loses a resource. The most cost saving approach would be to fire all faculty and staff and reduce expenses to zero, but of course, that is not a sustainable financial plan. There is a mid-point, or sweet spot, in the balancing of costs and investments in resources. In the area of faculty resources, the evidence shows a lack of balance in Dr. Joyner’s approach. Or at least the formula is skewed.

A disturbing example of the lack of balance can be seen in the approach the administration took to teacher preparation programs. Clearly, in 2015, there was compelling justification for cuts in faculty and staff and programs. The School of Education was converted to a Department of Education, a move that was arguably correct—or at least defensible. But a closer look shows that the problem solving here lacked proper balance, as the administration moved as quickly and thoroughly as possible to reduce costs, cut programs, buy-out faculty, eliminate lines—all with minimal or no consideration of a stopping point or planning for future investment. The diminishment both prevented not only needed growth/reallocation, but also prevented minimal maintenance of basic operations. Under the watch of Dr. Joyner, the university decided to forego compliance with CAEP, a prestigious accreditation and a mark of excellence for the university that many faculty and programs had already devoted significant resources to secure. 

Given the reduction in tenure lines (from 21 to 3), staff, and programs in the Department of Education, it is hard to avoid the characterization that the teacher preparation programs have been gutted. Whether or not this outcome was pursued with some faculty involvement is not the issue. The main issue is the administration’s lack of balance and wisdom in allowing, much less promoting, such an outcome. As under-resourced as our Department of Education now finds itself, how capable will we be to meet the demand for teachers that has been widely documented and predicted to worsen in the near future?

Another example of Dr. Joyner’s lack of balance comes from a faculty meeting in which she presented positive financial data in November 2017, just some months after the signing of our final Memo of Understanding in which faculty agreed to austere cuts and workload increases for the final two years of our most recent CBA. In a remarkable exchange between FAC Chair Arunas Dagys and President Joyner, the president noted that a $5 million surplus had been discovered once the FY17 books were closed in June. While the source of the error has not been clearly identified, the implication was that the prior CFO (who had not been hired by Dr. Joyner) had some responsibility for the irregularities or errors in bookkeeping. (It should be noted that the MOU which was signed just before the discovery of the $5 million variance was based on a projected loss for the year in the neighborhood of $250,000.) In discussing the surplus, Dr. Joyner made the comment that “we could give the whole $5 million to faculty as FAC wants…” But FAC had never requested such a thing. FAC was arguing for a more balanced approach. Faculty cumulatively had given back tens of millions of dollars over many years of give backs and cuts. In the current situation where there was an unexpected positive outcome, FAC argued then, as they had (and were to do) in many other negotiations, could we not come up with a formula whereby faculty could partake of the benefit, in some kind of partial or proportionate way?

Mercy Values, Academic Norms, Contractual and Bylaws Obligations to Faculty

Evidence of a lack of balance (in the sense of wise stewardship one expects from a president) can be seen in many other areas of the president’s record. The president’s move into the chapel displacing a Sister of Mercy and student organization, along with the expansion of administrative offices in the Chapel, shows questionable judgment in regards to the best support for our mission. 

Throughout her presidency, Dr. Joyner has used task forces, special committees, university fellows, appointees, and favored groups to achieve ends that, while efficient in some cases, often circumvent established governance structures. 

As for the breaches in contractual and bylaws obligations to the faculty, those matters, and the larger story behind the breakdowns in negotiation require a thorough, separate treatment all their own. They necessitate a review of many documents, events, and timelines. Much of the story has been preserved and shared in FAC’s OneNote archive and in faculty listserv emails and other documents. The Administration’s cancellation of meetings, its statements in emails and meetings (some of which FAC considered to be slanderous, misleading, or erroneous); its delays or non-compliance in information sharing, and, more recently, its discontinuation of information sharing—all were part of the process that led to the May 28 action by the Board of Trustees.

Limited Tools/Missing Tools

Saint Xavier needs a president who understands how the university has excelled in the past, how the university can draw on its growing potential (for example, as an Hispanic Serving Institution), how the university could unite all community members to face known and unknown challenges, how the university might recruit and retain talented faculty, staff, and administrators, and—most pertinent, after the experience of the past several years—how the university might act with respect for its workers. Saint Xavier needs a president who is effective, talented, and involved in fund raising. Saint Xavier needs a president who can motivate and inspire faculty, staff, students, and donors. Saint Xavier needs a president who fosters hope and belief that things will get better—not as a result of saying such things, but as a result of genuine displays and actions of respect for academic norms and the people throughout the institution, including faculty.

Dr. Joyner has not shown skills or a capacity for growth in these areas. Her primary skills are the ability to demand budget cuts and to consolidate her power, often by pitting groups against one another in a highly-charged, stressful environment, always under a cloud of impending doom.

While I have argued elsewhere my belief that Dr. Joyner may have good intentions and that she may have helped cut some costs, I believe she has put us on a path of diminishing returns. Our academic mission is no longer—in the view of many of us—on a sustainable trajectory. New, more balanced and collaborative leadership may provide us the adjustments we need at this time.

From the Archives: An Early SSW; A Close Encounter; Family, Friends, and Enemies

March 31, 2021

[Potential spoilers! If you’re not caught up on your Gunsmoke episodes (as of April 27, 1958), go listen to “Squaw.” Then come back here!]

Email to Colleague Suzanne Lee, April 8, 2016

From: Angelo Bonadonna <bonadonna@sxu.edu>
Subject: Yesterday’s Encounter
Date: Fri, 8 Apr 2016 08:53:11 -0500
To: Suzanne Lee <slee@sxu.edu>

Hi, Suzanne—it was good seeing you not once, but twice, yesterday!

I want to share with you a little outcome of our first encounter yesterday. Each week with my freshman writing class, I engage in an exercise I call SSW—silent sustained writing (the sibling of SSR). Yesterday when we met, I was on my way to class, and so you made an appearance in my lead-in to my writing session, which I’ve entitled “Miraculous Intrusions of the Day.”

The whole thing brings me a big smile (and some tears as you’ll see if you read on), and I’d like to share it with you. Thank you for being part of the miracles in my life. Let me know if you want me to track down and send you an MP3 of the Gunsmoke episode in question. :)

The writing is not complete or particularly polished, but it does, at the end, touch on grief, and attempts to admire a simple and genuine portrayal of it in the Gunsmoke program. On that level, I want to say again, I’m sorry for […] the sadness around much of our experience these days. But anyway—it was nice seeing you! —Angelo

Here’s the SSW I attached to Suzanne’s emaill:

Miraculous Intrusions of the Day
April 7, 2016:  

 
So much happens in a day that is unexpected. I never would have guessed that I’d be telling Suzanne Lee about George Bahumas running up to me from behind and knocking me down—and how, (at least for the surprise factor), she reminded me of him, though as she said, she hoped there’d be a different outcome than the two of us fighting in the grass. [Comment from 2021: The fight with George Bahumas, (my oldest childhood friend), was the only real, Western-style, fist fight of my life. This was true in 2016, and, somewhat surprisingly, it is still true in 2021, given the the events of the past 5 years at SXU.] 
 
But my surprise conversation with Suzanne is not what I planned to share today. I came to write about another unexpected miraculous intrusion of the day, the Gunsmoke episode, “Squaw,” that I heard on the Old Time Radio station during my morning commute. It caught me by surprise. I’ve never been a Gunsmoke fan, though the show does have some powerful claims on me. The TV version was a favorite of my mother, and I have such warm, simple memories of her watching the show in the basement (?) while she cooked. I have such a devotion to Bonanza, and I think some of the qualities of that show correlate, obviously, to Gunsmoke. Then there’s William Conrad, the great radio actor, maybe the greatest radio voice of all time, but someone destined to become TV’s “Cannon”—such a step down from the Matt Dillon he wanted to play on TV, after giving life to the role on radio. All these, and other, ideas are swirling as I was driving down this morning, listening to “Squaw.” By the end of the show, the tears are welling up in my eyes, unexpectedly. And the tears well up now as I write this. Why? 
 
I’m reminded of King Lear, and the way Shakespeare was able to create a genre—the family drama—a category of experience so powerful, so unique, so important—and so likely to be neglected without the writing and art form, as propelled by a great innovator and artist. King Lear is a tragedy—not of civic matters, or personal ambitions, or tempestuous romances—but rather of parents and children, and their inability to figure out life’s complex ways of putting us in simple, necessary, and fundamental relationships. “Squaw” told of a family conflict, father and son, culture and culture, boy and mother, boy and step-mother—and on all levels, from Freudian sexual motivations, to anthropological confusions, to race relations, to 1950s mores, to fairy tale romances, to current xenophobias, and many swirling dynamics in between—the story strikes a chord.  
 
The boy’s father has remarried—to a Navajo squaw, and the boy is now acting out, getting into bar fights in Dodge. So Matt gets involved, and he and Chester make a visit to the boy’s father. It turns out that the father has married this woman according to Indian custom (where the man “purchases” the woman from the father; note to self: really? is there any accuracy to this thread? is this a case of 1950s racism? but that’s another concern), but he has not married her legally. The boy is living in the shame of being a “squaw man.” His father has disgraced him. The woman is the same age as the boy. So there’s also the narrative of the dirty old man living with the young Indian woman. And one suspects the boy’s attraction to his step-mother causes no little stir to the mix of emotions—the strong hateful emotions he feels towards his new mother. 
 
So Matt and Chester make their trip. They find a woman there—both very beautiful and young, and they further find that, though she can barely speak English, and the father can barely speak Navajo—the marriage is one of genuine love. Kudos to the narrative art of the writers—to “condense” that effect, that impression, in a few verbal exchanges. But the power and authenticity of the love come across to us after all these years and differences, and the woman, in her broken English expresses hope that Matt and Chester will come again—and be fed by her. The sense of hospitality—and the promise of family life is complete in the very brief scene.  
 
Matt prevails on the man to come into town on Saturday to have a legal marriage performed. This will help alleviate the son’s angst—or part of it—or so Matt hopes. 
 
But just what is the nature of the son’s problem? He is very deluded, it seems, about his own motivation—and near the story’s end, after all the horrible tragedy of the family drama has unfolded, Matt Dillon makes the observation about what the son thinks was his motivation. Matt calls out his rationalization explicitly. In doing so, he suggests that the boy was struggling with a mix of perturbed, dark, swirling confusions—about sexual desire, cultural bigotry, family loyalties, the father-kill motive, self-hatred, an Oedipal relationship with his birth mother, and a violence born out of frustrations of efficacy.  
 
So many ideas here—but the tears, I’m sure, stemmed from some simplicities—simplicities of portrayal of the love between these two different people, the father and his new wife who could barely speak to each other. Then there was the portrayal of the grief (spoiler, sorry) of the woman for her dead husband, killed by his own son. The portrayal of grief was twofold. Again, I don’t know the cultural accuracy of the portrayal here, but I do feel the respect that was captured. The woman grieved in a song…and in a way that would not have been offered if it were not genuine. And then there was the knife and the blood—and Matt Dillon’s sleuthing of the crime scene, in part, through his explanation of the widow’s severing of two of her own fingers as an expression of grief for her loss of her husband.

More perspective from 2021

Suzanne Lee was one of those dear friends a professor is blessed to have as a colleague. At every phase of my career at SXU, Suzanne was there—teaching, working on committees, writing articles together, collaborating on teams, and helping me and others adjust to new realities in programs and institutional politics. When she became dean, I felt the School of Education had a chance to recover from its disastrous period of rudderless drift it had endured after the long, slow, and neglected decline of the prior dean. And when Suzanne became provost, I reveled in Rick Venneri’s hallway comment to me, delivered in a nod, with a smile and that confidential gravitas of his, “She’s a straight shooter.”

After Angelo died, she and her partner, Judy, appeared on our doorstep with a pecan pie. I was not there—the family was not there—but sister-in-law Jane was, and she relayed to us later the whole episode—how concerned the visitors were about the pie getting to us, how much they had hoped to be there for us. We couldn’t be there because the whole family had flown to Thailand to recover Angelo. And it now occurs to me: have I ever conveyed to Suzanne how much her gesture of kindness meant to me then, and how much it still means to me now?

It’s hard to blame President Joyner for what happened to Suzanne Lee—i.e., her departure from the university. The two apparently were friends and respected each other. But of course, Suzanne is gone, her career truncated too early at SXU. Whether or not it was Suzanne’s choice to leave, I hold Dr. Joyner responsible, in part, for creating an environment where so many careers have ended prematurely because of, in my view, her flawed vision of who we are, what we should be doing, and how we might position ourselves for growth.

It’s appropriate that, in relaying my impressions of Suzanne’s encounter of April 7, 2016, I thought of childhood memories with George Bahumas. Suzanne’s act was so child-like. She literally ran up behind me—quietly—and put both hands over my eyes, so as to say, “Guess who,” without ever saying it. Can you imagine? How did she have both hands free—wasn’t she carrying anything? Could such a thing happen in the 21th century, with all our sacred notions of “personal space”? Could such a playful encounter occur between a dean and a faculty member ever at SXU?

Update 2021, Looking Back Again, on Angelo, through Suzanne

“Miraculous Intrusions of the Day,” Version 2, would go even deeper into the Angelo archives—before 2008, his year of graduation. Suzanne and I were having a conversation in the second-floor hallway by the stairwell, and Angelo approached to meet up with me for some reason (or maybe not? Maybe it was just one of those chance encounters, where we wound up falling into a conversation because we happened to run into each other? I’m not sure…).

As Suzanne and I conversed, in that animated way we had, I could sense Angelo looking on, maybe too intently, in my peripheral vision. When we finished and Suzanne left, Angelo looked at me, with that grin of his—I mean that really characteristic grin of his that is best described by Virginia Uphues in the documentary (at the 45:29 minute mark).

“What?” I said.

Angelo’s response was destined to become one of my favorite memories of him:

“She digs you!”

And that smile. And then, of course, my smile, because I did not expect him to say that. I didn’t feel a need to explain that I wasn’t Suzanne’s type. It was true that she dug me—and I dug her. Suzanne and I had such a friendship, one filled with sparkling eyes on both our parts and lots of inappropriate language (mostly on her part). Angelo’s observation was one of those moments where you see your kid has not only grown up, but is celebrating a kind of adult thing—here, love and friendship—in a way beyond the silliness and worry of the family drama (to get back to Lear and Gunsmoke). Angelo, in his natural hippie-speak, was being himself, capturing a truth, celebrating his dad, inhabiting the chance moment, but not letting it go till the love was communicated. I put it in the category of another comment he had made a few years earlier, where, after I had driven through the night on the last leg of a long family vacation, he commented (sensing, no doubt, my need for validation of my driving prowess), “You’re a warrior!”—a statement he made without irony, and one that caused (and still does cause) those suffusions of the heart that the recipient (till now) doesn’t talk about. Such power we have for one another as family and friends in affirmations like these. So seldom, it seems, do we (or I at least) use this super-power. It came spontaneously and naturally to Angelo in moments.

I think now of my trollish ways of interacting with loved ones, and I want to do better. And I’ll try.