The Future of Higher Education offers a practical guide to navigating financial pressures, evolving student needs, and technological change while preserving the educational mission of colleges and universities. Why was this an important book for you to write?

I’ve spent nearly two decades working in higher education, and I can honestly say that I’ve never been more optimistic about its future. That might sound surprising given the challenges facing colleges and universities today, but it’s something I believe strongly.

Higher education is navigating an extraordinary period of change. Financial pressures, shifting student expectations, declining public confidence, and the rapid development of artificial intelligence are forcing institutions to reconsider longstanding assumptions about how they operate and serve students. These issues are often discussed separately, but in practice, they’re deeply connected. Decisions about finances affect academic quality. Technology influences how students learn. Institutional culture shapes whether meaningful change is even possible.

I wanted to write a book that brought these conversations together and offered leaders a practical way to think through the decisions ahead. Throughout my career, I’ve seen how much good higher education can accomplish, and I’ve also seen how difficult it can be for institutions to adapt, even when the need for change is apparent.

I believe higher education remains one of the most powerful forces for individual opportunity and societal progress. Its future, however, will depend on the choices we make today. My hope is that this book encourages leaders to approach those choices with greater clarity, confidence, and a willingness to challenge assumptions that may no longer serve their institutions or students.

Your background in clinical psychology informs your discussion of burnout and belonging. How has that training shaped your approach to academic leadership?

My background in clinical psychology has had a tremendous influence on how I think about leadership. It gave me a deeper appreciation for human behavior, motivation, relationships, and the ways people respond to uncertainty. Those lessons have stayed with me throughout my career.

One thing I’ve come to appreciate is that institutional change is deeply personal for the people experiencing it. When leaders announce a new initiative or organizational restructuring, they’re often focused on the strategy, timeline, and anticipated outcomes. Faculty and staff may be thinking about how those changes will affect their work, their relationships, or their sense of purpose. Both perspectives matter, and effective leaders need to understand that.

I’ve also become increasingly concerned about how we talk about burnout in higher education. We sometimes frame it as something individuals need to manage through better habits or greater resilience. While personal well-being certainly matters, we also need to examine the organizational conditions contributing to exhaustion. If workloads are unreasonable or expectations are constantly changing, encouraging people to practice self-care only goes so far.

I try to approach leadership with an understanding that people want to feel respected, supported, and connected to something meaningful. That doesn’t mean avoiding difficult decisions. It means recognizing that how we make and communicate those decisions can be just as important as the decisions themselves.

You recommend recognizing mentoring and course redesign in faculty workloads. What practical steps can resource-constrained institutions take to make those changes sustainable?

I think we need to begin by being more realistic about what we’re asking faculty to accomplish. Over time, we’ve added expectations around mentoring, student engagement, technology, assessment, and course redesign, often without taking much off their plates. Even when these initiatives are worthwhile, the cumulative workload can become difficult to sustain.

For institutions operating with limited resources, my first recommendation would be to take a serious look at how faculty time is being used. Are there administrative processes that could be simplified? Are we asking faculty to participate in committees or activities that no longer provide meaningful value? Could instructional designers or shared academic resources help reduce the time required for course development?

We should also consider how mentoring and course redesign are recognized in workload assignments and faculty evaluations. If we say these activities are institutional priorities, our policies and practices should reflect that commitment.

Of course, there are financial realities to consider. Institutions can’t fund every worthwhile initiative, which makes prioritization especially important. I’d rather see an institution make meaningful progress on a few well-supported priorities than launch a dozen initiatives that leave everyone stretched thin.

Ultimately, sustainability requires leaders to make deliberate choices about where to invest their resources, including people’s time. Sometimes the most responsible decision is to stop doing something that no longer contributes enough value to justify the effort.

Your book emphasizes trust and collaboration during institutional change. How can leaders rebuild that trust when faculty and staff have experienced unsuccessful reforms?

I think leaders sometimes underestimate how long the effects of an unsuccessful change initiative can linger. Faculty and staff remember when they were promised improvements that never materialized, when their concerns were overlooked, or when an initiative was abandoned after considerable time and effort. Those experiences shape how people respond to the next proposed change, regardless of who’s leading it.

The first thing I’d encourage leaders to do is listen. Take the time to understand what happened, why people are frustrated, and what they believe needs to be different. And be willing to acknowledge past mistakes. I’ve found that people generally appreciate candor, particularly when it comes from someone in a leadership position.

From there, the focus needs to shift toward follow-through. If you make a commitment, honor it. If circumstances change and you can’t deliver on something, explain why. Be transparent about the decisions you’re making and the constraints you’re working within. You won’t always get everyone to agree with you, but you can still earn their respect.

I also believe there’s tremendous value in starting small. Identify a problem that matters to faculty or staff, involve them in developing a solution, and demonstrate that meaningful progress is possible. Those experiences help rebuild confidence and create momentum for more significant changes.

Trust takes time to develop, particularly when it’s been damaged. Throughout my career, I’ve found that the strongest professional relationships are built through consistency, honesty, and a genuine willingness to listen. The same principles apply to institutional leadership. People pay attention to what leaders do, and over time, those actions establish whether their words can be trusted.

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