Alden College is a very good school. It might not be among the famous names, but we've had our share of success stories. We admitted only women until five years ago. But the money got tight, so we had to go admit men, too. My predecessor, Anne Satterfield, was "old school." She wanted Alden to remain all-female. She fought to the bitter end for her dear school to remain true to its old ways. Instead, the board of trustees gave her one more year. Then they voted to ease her into a comfortable retirement.
That's when I came along. I'm Rob Willis. I became responsible for bringing Alden into the modern age. I'm used to challenges. Diversifying a single-sex school surely qualifies. I didn't jump for this opportunity at first. But like Anne Satterfield, I'd lost a career battle royal. I was supposed to succeed the director at my previous school, a liberal arts college with a name you would surely recognize. I was one of two groomed for the job. The other, Amanda Prentice, looked the part of a successful professional. She got up at five every morning, ran three miles, ate nothing but carrot sticks and tofu for lunch and made it a point to have dinner with the "right people." In the meantime I had to keep staff morale up as she tore into employees and student workers. But politics prevailed. Amanda got the job and fired me as soon as she could. She did not even allow me the dignity of submitting a resignation.
I was out of work for nearly a year until I got the call from Alden. I was sent through a round robin of interviews. Anne Satterfield was the last to meet, and I had no idea what to expect. Anne was an Alden alumna, class of '67. She had never worked anyplace else though she'd had a variety of jobs throughout the college. I saw a picture of Anne on the college Web site. She was a plump lady with a round chubby face, fair skin, gray hair cut short. She wore a conservative suit dress with a light blue blouse buttoned to show little of her ample breasts. Anne had a very nice smile, appearing warm, a good thing for a woman in her field. She smiled as my grandmother used to smile, before she'd pinch my five year-old cheeks and pull ten dollars out of her purse. Only thing was my grandmother was a nice lady who never had to work outside the house, while Anne had lost a fight to save her job. People in the admissions world talk about jobs and people. There were rumors about Anne, that she was very good at her job, but that she was "losing it." I got no further details. Only wishes of good luck.
Anne made me wait nearly an hour while she talked with students and staff coming in and out of her office. That was rude. But it was not like I had anything better to do.
"Rob, come in," she said, waving as the last person left. "Let me straighten out this hideous mess, before we chat." She went from chair to chair collecting piles of application files and moved them into a corner behind her desk. "Can I get you anything, coffee, tea?" she asked as I took a file-free seat.
"Water's fine," I said. The hall outside her office had been extremely hot. That and my nervousness, my feeling that this was my last hope for a job, had me craving for a cold drink. Shame that the school had not bother to spring for a water cooler in the secured admissions officers.
With a file, presumably my resume in her hand, Anne settled into a large leather office chair, reclined back slightly and crossed her legs. "So why do you want to come to Alden?" she asked. "Why us?" Her blue eyes looked sad as she asked that question, as if she'd resigned to her fate.
"To be honest, Ms. Satterfield, I need a job. That's the whole story." I gave a very brief version of what had happened in my last job, without mentioning that "a woman" had been chosen over me, only a "co-worker." Women are the majority in college admissions; they pretty much run this professional world.
"What do you know about Alden?" she asked. She took a quick peek at the display from various events, graduating classes and signed pictures of gratitude from former co-workers and students on the wall behind me.
I told her what little I'd found on the Internet, including the debate of over the college's decision to go co-ed. I had also checked numbers. Applications kept going down, even though the college was converting single-sex halls to co-ed as we spoke. The marketing was terrible, focused on "traditions" instead of change. But had to bite my lip about marketing. A framed copy of a blown-up cover from the most recent brochure hung on the wall behind her desk.
"With due respect," I concluded. "Alden has some serious problems. But I've worked at small colleges for 14 years. I'm sure that I can help."
"Oh really?" Anne sat back more properly and put her hands on the desk, as if to guard it from an impending invader, maybe me. "What would you do that I have not? How would you come in to 'save' this place? Start a football team?"
"No, I wouldn't. But I wouldn't go crazy over finding men. You still need women." I went through a list of scholarship programs I had helped start to attract more women to my previous college, backed by female faculty I'd befriended along the way. This school was strong in the arts, some social sciences, but not business or the harder subjects. Alden women had gone on to fine careers. But their true achievements came through work after college or further education.
Anne took out a handkerchief, dabbed her face of sweat and smiled. "You know, you're the first one to say anything about women. I'm very proud of this place, and what its done for hundreds of young women. I don't want Alden to become just like any other school. I want it to be special."
It was best to let her keep talking. She went on and on about people who had come and gone from Alden College to far better things. She pointed to varied pictures on her walls to share the school's past. As she finished her eyes teared, her makeup started to run. She brushed her tears with the handkerchief.
I started to get out of my seat to ask if she was ok; she might have wanted a moment alone to compose herself. But she told me to sit after she had brushed the make-up away.
"I haven't asked any other candidate yet, but would you take a campus tour with me?" she asked.
I smiled. "I'd like that," I answered. As I'd listened to her stories I'd come to respect her for loving her school. Most admissions directors come and go, until they get into their "dream job." Anne had lived her dream longer than any of my peers, and superiors, had.
Anne was a chubby women, but she had an amazing bounce to her step as she showed me building after building, landmark after landmark, ending with the college gardens. She invited me to share a bench and described every flower and plant around us. Her eyes lit up as we watched orioles flying into a nest in the branches of one of the larger trees. "This is such a beautiful spot," she said. "I've never come here with anyone before. Always alone."
"Why?"
"It's peaceful. If I needed nothing else these past few months, I needed peace. I can't change, Rob. I can't fight change."
"Alden will always be a fine school," I said, touching her hand. "I won't forget anything you've told me."
Her cheeks glowed as she smiled and folded her fingers into mine. I didn't let go as we looked at the plants and birds around us. She settled her head on my shoulder and closed her eyes. For a moment I was tempted to shake her slightly. She might have fallen into a permanent sleep. Then I heard her breath softly.
"Please, stay here with me a little longer," she said. "I don't want to go back to the office just yet."
