The Chronicle of Higher Education: Why I Work at a Historically Black College

http://chronicle.com/article/Why-I-Work-at-a-Historically/124427/ 

September 24, 2010 Jon Krause for The Chronicle

Why would an academic choose to work at a historically black college or university when he or she might gain higher status and more money at a more prestigious, better endowed, predominantly white institution? Are there values and goals that trump status and money? Four academics respond.


M. Christopher Brown II, executive vice president and provost at Fisk University:


After years of undergraduate study in my discipline­—education—and graduate study in the subfield of higher education, I joined the ranks of the novitiate as a tenure-track professor at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. Time passed; I published articles, received extramural grants, and ultimately was awarded tenure. Following the well-worn path of my mentors, I expanded my research portfolio and pursued progressively increasing administrative responsibilities on the main campus of Pennsylvania State University. As a result, I garnered the coveted promotion to the rank of full professor. Further, I was granted the crowning jewel—an appointment as dean of the College of Education at the University of Nevada at Las Vegas. To be a dean—primus inter pares—means to be entrusted by your colleagues as the academic leader of your own community of scholars.


There I was, not yet 40, a full professor and dean. The possibilities were boundless. In fact, I was poised for the path often restricted and barricaded to African-Americans and other people of color—I could be a provost, maybe even president of a research institution. Logic suggested that I steady my hand and stay the course.


Three years ago, I found myself on stage at the university commencement, shaking the hands of hundreds of students who were graduating from my college with bachelor's, master's, and doctoral degrees. However, I did not know any of their names. My college was the No. 3 producer of graduates campuswide, but I lacked any personal knowledge about its graduates except what had been proffered to me by my assessment coordinator or development director.


I confronted the question of what I wanted as my academic legacy. During my tenure as dean, the College of Education doubled extramural grants, catapulted in the national rankings, increased the number of its tenure-line faculty members, captured a record number of refereed journal editorships, and even launched a capital campaign with real money and sizable pledges. But I had limited information about the academic success and development of our students.


When I was a faculty member, I had my own advisees and students. I knew their names, their ambitions, and I helped them achieve their goals. But the sheer size and administrative structure of the research university had separated me from the very reason I became a professor: the students. I realized that I didn't want to be a faceless cog in the academic hierarchy—I wanted students to remember me and value my contribution to their lives.


Until that moment, I had never understood why attorneys and corporate executives would leave their lucrative careers to join the ranks of nonprofit organizations or pursue second careers as social advocates and community workers. I realized that sometimes the popularity, lucrative compensation, and high status of those atop the institutional hierarchy in American higher education fail to satisfy an inner call to promote the betterment of society through touching individual lives.


So two years ago I accepted my current appointment at Fisk University. After nearly two decades of employment at large, predominantly white, research universities, I chose to return to my native South, where I was born and earned both my bachelor's and master's degrees, to serve on the staff of one of the nation's leading historically black colleges and universities. Fisk, a small yet distinguished liberal-arts college, is affectionately called the "black Harvard" by its alumni, foundations, and local citizens.


Each day that I arrive on the campus to work on Fisk's historic and hallowed grounds, I know that I am making a difference, whether in the career goals of a student or the aspirations of a family or community. I am proud to say that at last year's commencement, I knew the names, stories, and even the postgraduation plans of nearly all of the graduates whose hands I was privileged to shake. Like Robert Frost's poetic close, "Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference."


Paula E. Faulkner, assistant professor of agriscience education at North Carolina A&T State University:


My decision to teach at a historically black college and university was effortless.


I am the product of a historically black college and university myself—as it happens, the university where I now teach. My professors provided me with a wealth of information and experiences that gave me the knowledge I needed for my future, but most important of all, they supported me. They helped me develop into the person I am today.


After working as a secondary-school teacher, I decided to return to school to prepare to work with postsecondary students. That career change required a doctoral degree. During my doctoral program, I was encouraged to seek employment at large, predominantly white institutions. The advantages, my mentors explained, would be endless. I would receive a great salary, be able to conduct research, have the funds and time to travel, and generally have more opportunities that I might not have at a historically black college or university.


But I always knew in my heart I wanted to work at my alma mater. Here I am able to share my personal experiences as a former student, as well as my professional experiences as a faculty member. Here I can receive additional support from some of my former professors and from administrative staff members who know me. And I'm perfectly positioned to connect my students with graduate educational opportunities, internships, and jobs.


Most parents want to provide their children with a better life than their own, and I believe the same is true of faculty members at historically black colleges and universities. I want to educate my students to be well prepared in all aspects of their college experience, both academically and in extracurricular activities. Our administrators, professors, instructors, and administrative staff members work tirelessly to prepare students to be globally ready for the future.


Many of us would not be who we are today if former professors hadn't made the same decision we made—to teach at a historically black college or university. I am so proud and honored to be here.


I find the following quote from Ambrose Caliver inspiring. He was the first African-American research specialist hired by the U.S. Office of Education, in the newly created position of "senior specialist in the education of Negroes." Seventy-five years ago, he wrote: "In the hands of the Negro teachers rests the destiny of the race." Those words are still relevant today, and they are why I have made the personal and professional choice to be exactly where I am.


Alton Thompson, provost and vice president for academic affairs at Delaware State University:


My decision to accept a position at a historically black university was simple, straightforward, and deliberate.


I was nurtured and received a quality education at a historically black university, North Carolina Central University (which recently celebrated its centennial). And I have worked at two other historically black institutions: Norfolk State University for a year, and North Carolina A&T State University for 25 years, amounting to 26 of my 28 professional years in higher education. Finally, for 27 of those years, I have worked at land-grant universities—North Carolina State University, a prestigious, majority institution (two years), and North Carolina A&T State.


The position at Delaware State was attractive because it was both an HBCU and a land-grant university. It would allow me to stay connected to my roots, to give back and contribute to the advancement of historically black institutions while continuing my focus, passion, and expertise on the tripartite land-grant mission of learning, discovery, and engagement—or, put more simply, improving lives and enhancing economic development. My move from North Carolina A&T was not based on a lack of joy or satisfaction with my job as a dean. I simply wanted an opportunity to help shape institutional direction and culture at a higher administrative level in a new leadership environment. The position as provost was perfect.


Issues facing historically black colleges and universities are daunting, but the opportunities are unprecedented. I believe these institutions have the greatest potential for changing and advancing society. The intentional integration of learning, discovery, and engagement into programs that make a difference is the key to realizing those opportunities. Some of the most talented faculties in this nation are at historically black colleges and universities.


My institution has big goals, and I want to be a part of them. I want to help find realistic ways of supporting extracurricular innovation, research and development, and new programs in response to societal and global changes. This moment in history is an opportunity for us to transcend our historically black university status while not for one moment forgetting our proud legacy.


Doreen Bowen Hilton, professor of psychology and assistant dean of the Graduate School at Fayetteville State University:


I received my undergraduate degree from Johnson C. Smith University, a historically black institution. My experiences there helped to reinforce my beliefs about my abilities, career choices, and life goals. Faculty and staff members, as well as administrators, were committed to me as an individual and to my success, which was tremendously empowering for me.


That commitment extended well beyond the classroom. I was given opportunities to enhance my interpersonal, organizational, and leadership skills and to serve my community. One of my professors, Dr. Boyd Gatheright, was a brilliant mathematician. I worked with him as a work-study student, and although I did not believe that I was very strong in math, he encouraged me to tutor other students. After observing my tutoring sessions with several students, he suggested that I consider a career teaching math. That experience was such a confidence-builder for me.


My relationship with Dr. Gatheright changed at that point; he became my mentor. We talked about his career, graduate school, and research and about goals that I might set for myself. I was determined to learn as many life lessons from him as I could. I was not "just a student" in his eyes; he truly was interested in my success. With his encouragement, not only did I continue tutoring students in mathematics, but I also tutored students in psychology.


It is clear to me now that many of the most important lessons I learned at Johnson C. Smith occurred as I observed faculty and staff members carry out their duties. In addition to Dr. Gatheright, many of my mentors were also African-American and had life experiences similar to mine. Although most did not earn lucrative salaries, they wore multiple hats and enjoyed their work. Many of them worked long hours, even on weekends, because of their commitment to the students and the university. Because of them, when I moved on to graduate school, I felt prepared and confident.


I believe in the mission of historically black institutions. I am energized and fulfilled by seeing students—many of whom society has predicted will fail—not only come to college but also flourish and attain their goals. To play a role in such success stories is what I choose to commit my career to. The experiences I've had at historically black institutions have contributed to my success, and I feel a sense of responsibility and pride in helping to make those experiences available to students.

The Chronicle of Higher Education: Why I Work at a Historically Black College