Happy Trails

Here is the text of the email I sent out to my colleagues this afternoon.

So…

Thus it ends; after two intense, event-filled years, my time as an interim dean here at MHCC is over. As I come closer and closer to seeing this campus in my rear-view mirror one last time, I know that it’s you, the faculty and staff of the Science & Technology Division, I will be missing.

It’s probably too early at this point to have a great deal of meaningful perspective about this entire experience. Questions such as “Jim, what did you learn?” are likely a bit premature. Honestly: I’m still grappling to understand this period of my life.

I began this position on July 14, 2004. For those who were on campus teaching that summer, I got to know you a little sooner than the rest. Although I acquainted myself with everybody’s name during those first few weeks, I literally did not lay eyes on some of you until the morning of September 15th, the first day of In-Service.

As you recall, during that first Division meeting, I gave up a brief autobiography; I described the rather non-linear life’s path that had led to me standing in the front of the room that day. Just weeks earlier, I had lost my position with the Oregon University System and found myself moving to Portland to try this interim-dean gig on for size.

Of course, I wanted to be liked, respected, and trusted. And competent. Nothing has ever defined me so much as a professional as my competence level. So, believe me, I wanted to fail neither you nor me.

A friend of mine asked, at the time, how I was going to possibly manage a group this large? (You were forty full-time faculty members strong at this point, not to mention the part-timers.) My response was that I needed to simply (hah!) attempt to establish one relationship at a time, building what trust I could along the way. I was coming in from the outside, the “dark (university) side,” and had had no community college level administrative experience. And I could only imagine you thinking: “what’s this guy about?!”

My belief was that you had to know me in order to trust me. That was the motivating factor for my little speech that first morning. And, I’ve attempted to be as transparent an individual as I possibly could be during the time I’ve been among you. As I depart, I hope, at least, that you feel you do know me. And I hope that I have earned your trust.

Prior to my time at MHCC, I had never attempted to lead, on a daily basis, a group as large and as diverse as you. As I reflect on my time here in the coming days and months, I know I will wonder what it is I could have done differently – i.e., better – in order to serve your needs. When it came to my relationships with you, I only ever wanted to be a colleague, a coach, a mentor, and a friend. Perhaps a cheerleader. I never really sought out, or identified with, the roles of adversary or “boss.” I suspect you know that I believe in the concept of “team,” which, of course, leads to the idea of “team leader.” If you were to remember me in that role, even in some little way, I would be honored.

I have only the deepest respect for you. I have felt honored and privileged to be among some of the most talented, dedicated, and hard-working educators I have ever known. I will miss you all.

The final (and BIG) announcement I have for you is that, just this afternoon, I accepted an interim position at Umpqua Community College in Roseburg. I will be leading their Liberal Arts and Math & Science faculty for the coming year.

And, one more time: thanks for the wonderful book of Oregon photos, personalized with your written goodbyes. FYI: I love my new Waterman pen!

Bye for now...

Jim@TechnoMonk.us

Fitting In

I have no words for my reality. [ Max Frisch (1911–1991)]

Early on during my time as the science & technology dean (slightly less than two years ago), I called a gathering of the entire division to talk over some old and new business. Now, I guess my personal meeting-leading style is a bit different than other deans who have occupied this position: I remember mentioning things like “we all work too hard,” and that “we should take better care of ourselves,” and that “I’m not willing to die for this job”…that kind of stuff.

I think most would agree that I tend to be honest and direct.

Further, when I speak to things that I am passionate about, I typically have great energy. I’m expressive, I gesture, I emote. In sum, I likely exhibit a collection of personal characteristics and interpersonal communication styles that are different from your stereotypical, geeky, sometimes-reticent, always-in-his-head science guy.

Directly after one of these early meetings, I remember F coming up to me and exclaiming, “you don’t talk like any dean we’ve ever had here before!”

Now, at the time, I wasn’t exceptionally surprised by this remark. In addition to my science education (two degrees, a bachelor's and a master's), I also have a master’s in counseling. In case you didn’t know: this is quite an unusual background. While scientists tend to focus on theories, experiments, findings and ideas, counselors mostly attend to feelings, relationships, and personal growth. These are radically different approaches to knowing the world, and I admit that I probably am a pretty rare bird both in terms of my formal education and how I interact with the universe around me.

It seems, over time though, that the Division faculty here have rather gotten used to me and my non-traditional ways of talking and behaving. However, when it comes to job searching, I’m not so sure my, well, deviance is all that much appreciated. I’ve talked this over with M, and he agrees: when it comes to a job interview, a new group may not quite know what to make of me. “Could this be our new dean ?” [I can imagine some of them ( most of them) wondering...]

This topic has been more on my mind in the last few days due to another, more recent interaction: this time with T. As I was lamenting my lack of a job offer despite my ambitious interviewing schedule of late, I once again mentioned something like “I guess I just don’t talk like a science dean.”

Her comeback was a very quick, energetic, and expressive, “Jim, you don’t talk like anyone I’ve ever known !” She went on to say that, “in fact, I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone quite like you!”

Now, I’m positive that these statements were offered in only the most complimentary way. And, I certainly received them as such. Actually, such observations are (to me) pretty flattering. But, the more I’ve thought about the implications of these remarks, the more distraught I have become. In terms of locating a new workplace, how can I possibly find somewhere to “fit” if I am perceived to be so different? Who would want to hire me if I’m not “one of them?”

Well, it’s going to be hard, isn’t it? Actually, it HAS been difficult, and maybe this is one of the primary reasons I am facing unemployment: I am too different, and I really just don’t fit .

The question now is: where do I fit?

I Can See Clearly Now

I can see clearly now, the rain is gone, I can see all obstacles in my way…
(Johnny Nash)

Back on April 18th, when I was traveling home from the Grays Harbor College interview, while I was on I-205 just north of the Oregon border, a rock violently hit my windshield and chipped it. A couple of weeks later, when I was at my neighborhood gas station, I spent a few minutes at their little “rock-chip repair” station. I’d done this before and the results had been really dramatic. For a few minutes of time, and a call to the insurance company, the rock-chip damage magically became much less noticeable. Well, this time, instead of “healing” the chipped glass, the repair attempt led to a very large crack in my windshield. It was obvious that it was time to get the whole thing replaced. Happily I have great insurance, -$0- deductible on my comprehensive coverage, so my windshield was totally swapped-out for free a few days ago. The glass company even came to the college parking lot and replaced it while I was at work. Pretty slick.

It’s amazing, really. Every day since then has rather been like I’ve just had a car wash. I can see so much better out of this new glass, it’s unbelievable. The old windshield had been chipped and damaged over the last few years, and I guess I didn’t realize how bad it was. I drive down the road and I am able to see everything so much more clearly now.

It’s a lot like my life at the current time, where I believe I am getting a fresh perspective on several elements of my current existence.

For example, I see clearly that:

♥ My health has suffered under the duress of my current work environment. I desperately need time to heal, rest, recharge and recuperate.

♥ I need to take care of my body and soul. This has to be THE priority of my life.

♥ Unemployment wouldn’t be all that bad…well, for a little while at least. I have not really had a break for ages, and even the vacation time I had last summer was quite stress-filled. I would love some time to sit by the pool, walk in the sunshine, read novels, produce some great photographs, and write.

♥ Leaving “my people” behind will be difficult. I have made some significant attachments during the last two years, and now I’ll be going. I am really, really inept at goodbyes, but I will try and do them as gracefully as I possibly can. I know that “love” is a strong word, but there are some of these folks that I have come to love that I must now leave.

♥ As much as I’ve been resisting change, here it comes. I need to embrace it. I have started to do just that by taking a few substantive actions: I have given notice on my house; I have filed for unemployment; I have decided to live in Eugene if I need to be unemployed for a while; and, as a symbol of this new life I am about to start, I even cut my hair. (Way short. My first hairstyle change since 1977.)

♥ As much as I am called to do the work of academic administration, Oregon may not be the place to continue to do this. Or, as much skill and experience as I bring to such work, there are other endeavors that probably suit me as well. [I doubt if I could make a living as an artist at this stage of my life (and I do still have to make a living), but I need to remain unattached as to the outcome of this particular transition.]

♥ I need to soak up the emotional support that I’ve been receiving lately, which has been totally delicious. There are lots of folks in my camp right now, on my side, checking in, expressing their concern and emotional support.

♥ I need to keep breathing and asking the universe: “what’s next?”

It is pretty great to have a new windshield for my life as well!

Angst at 40,000 Feet

My body is doing another number on me. It’s one stress symptom after another, it seems. This time: gastric distress. Really, honestly, I’m sure you don’t want to read about this latest development, so you should probably just stop right here.

After the interview in Washington last week, as I was driving back to Portland, I succumbed to hunger pangs late in the evening and took the Cougar, Washington, exit from the freeway and indulged in a McDonald’s fish sandwich. I’ve had lots of these meals in the past, of course, but it seems the combination of the stress of the interview day and this particular fast-food fix were a potent combination. I felt ill almost immediately, but went to work the next morning anyway despite obvious intestinal issues. I only made it a couple hours before I gave up and came home, though. The bathroom here is simply more convenient!

Just when it seemed I had recovered from that episode, I went to San Mateo, California, three days later for another interview. I had been eating only the blandest foods I could find, so my insides made it through that meeting just fine. Afterwards, however, at the San Francisco airport, I needed to eat before flying home later in the evening (I had almost five hours to kill, given how my schedule turned out). I had a chicken-salad sandwich at an eatery I’d had success with on other trips. Well, approximately the same thing happened to my body, only this time instead of a half-hour drive to get home (in my own car), I had an almost two-hour wait plus an hour-and-a-half in the air (sitting in a window seat!).

I honestly didn’t know if I was going to be able to handle the air travel. I was queasy and needed frequent visits to the rest room. How was this possibly going to work?

I had no idea. But, if there was any chance that I was actually going to get on that airplane, there was no way I could cope with a window seat. Luckily, it was possible to get an aisle seat, so I snapped that right up.

I thought about alerting a flight attendant about my unstable condition, but decided against it…I’d keep this little secret to myself unless it became an obvious and disruptive problem. A risky, but, as it turned out, good decision.

Then, the moment I got on the plane (I was alone in my new row!), I put on my headphones, with my iPod set to one of my quieter playlists.

I breathed. And breathed some more. And continued to focus on my breath.

An hour-and-a-half in the air. Can I do this? Yes, one minute of focusing on my breath at a time.

When the flight attendant came by, I asked for a 7-Up, thinking that would calm my stomach a bit. Nope, it didn’t. It had rather the opposite effect, so I drank very little.

When we were doing our initial climb, the pilot indicated we were at 27,000 feet headed for a cruising altitude of 40,000 feet. Ohmygod, I thought: 40,000 feet up, 40,000 feet down. Feeling like this. Oh. My. God.

Somewhere, at some point, when we were likely at that 40,000 foot level, I started sweating a little bit. I actually felt a bit feverish. And, I just could have sworn that I was sweating out chicken salad. I was thinking that if there had been anyone sitting next to me, they would have certainly detected perspiration with the distinct odor of my evening meal.

Oh, but that couldn’t be. Who’s ever heard of such a thing?

Fortunately, the story ends well. I made it through the flight with no major impossible urges. My shuttle was on time, and it rushed me home.

Whew! What a trip…

…and for what? I got the rejection call from San Mateo earlier today.

Lasting Security

My colleague Wendall died swiftly of a heart-attack on Thursday evening. A co-worker was able to drive him from campus to the emergency room during the crisis (it’s just down the street), but they were apparently able to do little for him. He was one day short of his 56th birthday, and leaves behind a wife, kids, grandkids, and a large number of stunned colleagues in his department and on the entire campus.

I worked with Wendall for nearly two years. When I accepted this interim job in 2004, I was slated initially to take over the supervision of the Science Division, but by the time I actually got to campus, the president had reorganized things a bit and I found myself leading the “Science & Technology Division.” The technology portion included the Industrial Technology Department (consisting of the Automotive, Machine Tool, and Welding Technologies), of which Wendall was the department chair.

Wendall was a weldor and welding instructor; from my perspective he loved his trade and he had a deep and abiding affection for his students. He was exceptionally dedicated to the mission of the Industrial Technology department, and worked long hours to make sure everything was moving along as it should. Most importantly he was, simply, a very decent human being.

I will miss him.

This event seems to be triggering, for me, overwhelming feelings of loss. Even though I know that loss is integral to our existence, I still am sad. Despite the length of time I’ve lived and how much I’ve learned, I guess I’ve never been able to accept the impermanent nature of the universe. One would think that, by now, I would know that any relationship is temporary. To begin a relationship with anyone, with anything, is to know that it will someday end.

This loss, taken with my other large losses in the last couple years, is serving to keep me, I believe, in a rather deep and prolonged melancholic state. I apparently cling to some kind of ideal that I can, at some point, “get it together.” It’s likely my perfectionist tendencies, and my sense of what’s “fair,” that lead to disappointment and my sense of loss and failure. And, I suppose it’s what keeps me “stuck” in whatever uncomfortable place this is that I am in.

“To think that we can finally get it all together is unrealistic. To seek for some lasting security is futile…Suffering begins to dissolve when we can question the belief or the hope that there is anywhere to hide.

Hopelessness means that we no longer have the spirit for holding our trip together…Trying to get lasting security teaches us a lot, because if we never try to do it, we never notice that it can’t be done.” (Pema Chödrön, When Things Fall Apart, p. 39)