Tom Tritton, President

A (Mon)Day in the Life

My typical Monday starts at 5:30 a.m. If that sounds early to you, please know that 10:30 p.m. sounds late to me. I am thusly convinced that we all sort conveniently into only two fundamental categories — morning and night people. I am most alert and most likely to be creative in the first few hours of the day, generally declining from there, while the night people are the inverse. Maybe all important functions should be held at lunchtime so we optimize our collective biorhythms.

Returning to 5:30 a.m., I usually spend the first hour jogging and stretching. In fact, I’ve become so accustomed to my early morning exercise rituals that I’m convinced it’s the only barrier to a loss of sanity. I realize that such a confession will cause some readers to exclaim that the barrier went down long ago, but quoting Kurt Vonnegut, “So it goes.”

It takes another hour to eat breakfast (Raisin Bran or Shredded Wheat, generally), talk over the details of the day with my wife Louise, and skim the The Philadelphia Inquirer. On Saturday and Sunday I also — luxuriously — read The New York Times.
I usually arrive at my office in Founders Hall around 7:30-ish. A rule firmly enforced is never to schedule anything before 9 a.m., so this early time is protected for what I call RTR (reading, thinking, reflection). Alas, the precious hour and a half often gets hijacked by the details of administrative existence — answering the mail, taming the calendar, planning speeches, organizing travel, and dealing with the ubiquitous deluge of e-mail.

From 9 to 10 a.m. on Monday is the meeting of the Administrative and Professional Staff (actually this group only meets once per month, so this is a “representative” rather than an “actual” Monday sojourn). The A/P group is the 200 or so folks who actually run the College — from the library to the bookstore, from alumni relations to security, from the registrar to the athletic coaches. It is a superior group, with lots of longevity at the College, and inspiring dedication to our purpose. These are the people responsible for Haverford’s designation by The Princeton Review: “College runs like butter.” The Monday meetings focus on three things: announcements of current happenings; sharing personal narratives that illuminate how different offices work and communicate; and open discussion of some general topic.

10 to 11a.m. finds me back at my office to meet with the CIO. All you corporate types will immediately recognize this acronym as Chief Information Officer, but at Haverford it’s actually a Collaborative Information Officer. This is our experiment in shared management and the CIO consists of the five people most responsible for Information Technology operations (computing, networking, the library). They meet regularly to plot our way to the IT future. Policy issues of serious import abound: development of wireless on campus, illegal file sharing, hardware and software standards, use of IT in teaching and research. I need no convincing of the pivotal role played by emerging media and technologies in our educational enterprise (and in fact am something of a technonerd), but I also know that no clear roadmap to the future exists. I expect our graduates to become leaders in the wise use of technology, however, so it only seems fair that the College should be as well. Doing so is one of our major challenges.

It is now 11 a.m. and I look forward to my regular meting with Joe Tolliver, Dean of the College. Student Affairs deals with everything from the troublesome to the glorious. On a given day, Joe and I may find ourselves discussing: violations of the alcohol policy or the awarding of high honors; the agony of a failing student or the ecstasy of acceptance to medical school; the creeping persistence of grade inflation or the proffering of advice on career and life choices. In short, everything that happens outside of the classroom is under the purview of the Dean, and our meetings never lack for drama (nor he for stamina).
From noon to 2 p.m. every Monday the College’s senior staff meets. At other places this might be called the cabinet, president’s council, or some such nomenclature. At Haverford it is the six people that report directly to the president (Provost, Dean of the College, Dean of Admission and Financial Aid, Director of Athletics, VP for Finance and Administration, and VP for Institutional Advancement). Every operation and function is under their care, so the senior staff meetings range over every conceivable subject (and even some inconceivable ones…). I fret that we often spend more time on the urgent than the important, probably because the press of everyday business can’t be ignored. To counter this tendency, I try to enliven the agenda with transcendent, long-range, big-picture items. You know — “the vision thing.” The group works well together, thinks about the College as a whole rather than as fragmented domains, and has a good grasp of our robust possibilities. This is good.

Three to 4 o’clock is a free hour, which usually means returning phone calls, trying to stem the rising tide of e-mail, and perhaps getting a glance at the day’s truckload of regular mail. On a good day, I might even write a few lines of this column… .

4 to 6 p.m. every Monday is Academic Council, consisting of five elected faculty members, the provost, and the president. The group has three essential functions: (1) making recommendations to the president on faculty appointments, promotions, and tenure; (2) appointing the faculty members of all College committees; and (3) advising the president and provost on (from the Faculty Handbook) “other matters affecting the faculty or the College.” I believe that the sustenance of a first-rate faculty is the most important thing I (or any president) does, so the role of Council is truly critical. Discussions are long, intense, sometimes arduous, and range over every possible corner of life in the academy. I’m always energized by Council meetings, even when the subjects are tricky, and I think Haverford is well served by this structure honed over many years of experience.

After Council it’s time for dinner, often with Louise, sometimes with students, or perhaps with one of the College’s visitors. After dinner there may be a lecture, an event, a concert, an athletic contest, or any of the innumerable attractions (distractions?) of life on a college campus.

Of course all this daily routine changes if I’m traveling, carrying the College flag to all corners of the globe. And travel has its pleasures and its perils. Come to think of it, that might be a good subject for a future column… .