| Squeezed between an increasingly restive faculty and unrelenting economic pressures1, Oberlin College President Nancy Dye will step down this summer.
Her departure will bring to a close a 12-year tenure marked by impressive new construction, record application numbers and a growing concern that the institution risked losing its soul in the struggle to maintain economic viability. At the same time, it challenges trustees, alumni and faculty to change their focus from Dye's own performance to the broader future of the school.
Oberlin has a rich history as a progressive campus committed to racial and economic diversity. It granted the first baccalaureate awards given to women in the United States and distinguished itself by enrolling and graduating large numbers of black students in the second half of the 19th century. More recently, the college has become known for sending a significant portion of its alumni higher in academia2; in fact, for several years the school has ranked first in the country for the number of undergraduates who go on to earn doctorates.
Of late, however, Oberlin has been hamstrung by its own success. Jobs as professors and musicians may be professionally rewarding, but seldom provide the kinds of compensation required to swell the alma mater's coffers3. At the same time, enrolling impressive percentages of low-income students requires the college to tap more funds for aid, placing an even greater strain on the institution's overall budget. Operating deficits have been common4 despite Dye's massive fund-raising, forcing the college to adopt a strategic plan5 in 2005 that called for reducing enrollment by 163 students and cutting the faculty size by seven6. The plan also sought to maintain the number of students who pay full tuition, which meant the school would enroll fewer who required financial assistance.
Some considered these moves a betrayal of the college's history, while others complained that Dye had not been collaborative enough. It didn't help that earlier budget constraints prompted the university to lay off some support staff even as Dye collected substantial raises. More recently, the college abruptly suspended its program in London7 - a move that angered faculty members as much for the absence of consultation in the making of the decision. Last spring, the trustees hired a consultant to evaluate Dye, but then limited the evaluation to an oral report to a small subgroup of the board8. Finally, this month, 67 faculty members sent an e-mail to the trustees calling upon the board to select a new president.
An Oberlin spokesman said Dye's decision was unrelated to the faculty e-mail, and in fact predated it by several weeks. It's clear, however, that the popularity she enjoyed earlier in her time on campus had waned.
From this point on, the Oberlin community no longer can blame Dye for every disappointment. To attract the kind of president the institution needs to prosper, constituents must come together to forge a common vision for Oberlin's future9. No matter who next leads Oberlin, ambitions will outstrip resources. The challenge is to find balance while keeping fealty to the values that have made Oberlin so special for so very long.
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