Unsure

The theater is smaller than I expected, a store front building with 80 chairs lined up in neat rows. For some odd reason the numbering starts from the rear, and row A, where I sit, is furthest from the stage. My father, next to me, keeps his jacket on over his sweater and shirt.  We've come to see Mr. Percifield in a community theater production of Oliver.  He and I have been in only sporadic contact for the last 40 years, but in high school much of my life revolved around his.  He introduced me to debate, and to my high school boyfriend.  He coached me, accompanied me to debate camp in the summer, drove me to state and national tournaments.  He directed the spring musical and I was his student director.  A short stocky man from Southern Indiana with a big laugh, tender demeanor, and liberal tendencies, he is a fixture in my adolescent memories. In all the years I performed in front of him, I've never seen him perform.  Sure, he would demonstrate how to deliver a line, but I've never seen him on stage.  The show is entertaining, but clearly amateur, and Mr. Percifield at times seems unsure of his lines. I clap heartily and congratulate him warmly after the show.

Leaving the theater, I turn in the crowded lobby to see if my father is following me. For only an instant, I see his frailty--his white hair, confused look, uncertain stance. He pauses as if unsure how to make his way safely through the jumble of patrons. I reach out to take his arm and we walk into the welcome cool air of night.

I drive home along a familiar road of childhood.  Even though it is dark, I can see the drifting dune sand in places crossing the road, bridging the space between the lake and the forest.  The changing leaves echo my changes.  Brilliant reds, deep  golds, satiny browns. I'm walking on a narrow path of the present, somewhere between the past and the future. Unsure.

Measures of success

When I teach undergraduate research methods we spend a good deal of time focused on the idea of measurement...how do you measure an abstract concept?  I lead students through an exercise where they take a concept, like wisdom, and develop measurable indicators of the idea.  I usually start with a discussion of the college ranking system used by U.S. News and World Report.  We talk about the indicators used, such as graduation rates, average SAT scores, and faculty to student ratios.  Are those indicators of a "good" school?  Are they the best?  The only?  I have a great reading that talks about the value of "soft measures" as well.  Are the school grounds attractive?  Are the buildings well  maintained?  Are faculty in their offices?

Measuring success has been on my mind.  How will I know if I'm successful in my new position?  I have some clear metrics, increased undergraduate enrollment, increased alumni support, and more faculty publications.  But on the day to day activities I find it harder.  Often after a meeting with faculty or alums I'm asked by my staff, "How did it go?"  I am baffled by the question.  What would make it a good meeting?  What would a successful outcome look like, or more importantly these days for me, what would it feel like?

After my first advisory board meeting I expected to feel either tremendously relieved to have gotten through it or wildly ecstatic about the outcome.  Instead, there was a blankness.  The meeting went well in that I was able to answer most questions, people seemed comfortable, there was conversation...was that the only goal?  What else could have happened?  It wasn't as stressful as I anticipated, so no big relief afterwards.  Is that good?  Should it be "just" another meeting?  Is it an indication that I was well-prepared?  I suppose what is nagging at me is that I somehow missed an opportunity...but for what?  I can't really think of what I would have done differently.

How should I measure my success on a day to day, meeting to meeting, basis?  What do I need to do to earn a gold star?