“The noise” is a poem I wrote recently as I reflected on a major leadership challenge plaguing people broadly right now: exhaustion.

The noise is loud.

At home: Social media and endless scrolling – the constant pull of reels, reposts, retweets. Click, swipe, tap. Is it real or deepfake? AI or human? A thousand streaming channels – Netflix, Max, Prime? Or was it Peacock? Hulu? Starz? Search, scroll, select. Start, stop, forget.

The soundtrack of daily life – kids, pets, partners, parents, all calling, all needing, all at once. What’s for dinner? Where are my socks? Will you drive me? Can you tell me again, what’s for dinner? Bills, dishes, laundry, cook, clean, re-clean, fold, reload. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

At work: Strategy. Team. Don’t mess up. Be agile. Speak up. Tone it down. Transformation. Prioritization. Stagnation. AI generation. Be independent. Be a team player. Be both. Develop your skills and your career. Do whatever the business needs. Do both. Work anywhere. Work everywhere. Just work. Work harder. Work smarter. Come into the office. Stay home. Unlimited PTO. PTO cut. Healthcare. Who cares? Raise. RIF. Bonus. Re-org. Value. Under-valued. No value. Chat. SMS. WhatsApp. Slack. Meets. Zoom. Teams. Missed the message. Dammit.

In America: Economy strong. Market wrong. Eggs high. Gas higher. Inflation builds, savings expire. DEI ruins America. DEI is America. Trump is a savior. Trump is a scammer. News is truth. News is lies. Who funds this news? Flight on time? Flight delayed? Flights down. History repeating? Rights revoked? Trans people exist. Trans people resist. Jobs lost. Wealth hoarded. Civil Rights roll back, Cybertrucks roll forward. Billionaires win. Children without medicine lose. Breaking news keeps breaking. Middle-class America is breaking. Groceries or internet? The internet is life. Health is wealth, but screens are stealth. Measles are back. Fluoride is bad? Vaccine might be dangerous. Doctors are mad. Red Dye 40 out. New diseases are lurking about. He thinks he’s king. Third term’s a charm. DOGE to the moon. What’s DOGE? Fuck DOGE. Schools are dangerous. Homeschooling is a cop-out. Guns protect. Mental health is the problem. Background checks. Waiting periods. Thoughts and prayers. Second amendment rights. AR-15s. Run. Hide. Fight. Not if, but when is the next round? Cold like ICE. Violent criminals. Skilled workers. We are all immigrants. Immigrants are ruining America. Immigrants keep America running. Immigrants are running. Where is the American Dream? Is it fentanyl or deportation or paying rent forever? Tariffs, official languages, gulfs, Google Maps. Is this an autocracy or an oligarchy, a democracy or a meritocracy, or is it just America becoming great again?

Now what?

What if I freeze? Hold my breath? Hibernate? What if I only talk to people who think like me? What if my opinions are wrong? What if I build a bubble around my kids? What if something or someone pops it? What if I medicate? Feed the addiction? Stop trying?

What if I move? What if I stay hopeful? What if I dust myself off and get back up?

What if I love? What if I smile? What if I breathe? What if I connect? What if I embrace?

The static softens. The sirens fade. The scrolling slows. The headlines hush. The breaking news takes a break.

There, in the quiet, clarity calls.

Look deep inward, where the heartbeat steadies.

Look far outward, where the horizon stretches.

Somewhere between fear and flight, between chaos and calm, between breaking and becoming.

Find the courage to listen, the patience to understand, the wisdom to lead, the humility to grow. One conversation that repairs. One act of kindness that restores. One connection that rebuilds. One breath. One hand to hold. One whisper of courage in the roar of the world.

One steady step toward something real.

One moment of meaning amid the madness.

The noise is loud, but the quiet is where we find our way back—to ourselves, to each other, to hope.

“Where’s the playbook?” A leadership love letter to those just getting started in higher education…

I left graduate school a number of years ago feeling hopeful about the impact I could have, clear about the goals and purpose of higher education, and most importantly, prepared for the world of work I was entering into in higher education. I was confident…maybe a little too confident!

23 years into my career, I find myself still having moments of incredible impact and hopefulness…in fact, I have witnessed 18-22 year olds on a small, liberal arts campus with both an incredibly large Jewish population and budding Middle Eastern, Palestinian, and Muslim populations, wrap their minds and hearts around one of the greatest world challenges they have known in their lifetimes, in ways that adults…my peers, their parents and world leaders have not been able to do in productive ways.

I also remain clear about the goals and purpose of higher education…albeit, after more than two decades, I recognize the rose-colored glasses I once wore. As a senior executive, I see the real challenges of balancing the unbridled pursuit of knowledge and a decades-old business operating model that is in need of deep repair. I see the stressful tensions that tenure, academic freedom, student health and safety, an enrollment cliff, a pandemic’s aftermath, a social justice reckoning, and a demand from the labor market for stronger student outcomes all have on the very existence and success of our institutions. But our purpose is still clear amidst those challenges - educate the future leaders of our world, teach them to think critically, care deeply, use technology wisely, and consider the condition of the human experience and how they might leave the world a bit better than they found it. It remains a noble purpose.

And yet…

I sit in my office thinking to myself rather frequently, “No one taught me what to do in this moment.”, “No one prepared me for sharing the news I am about to deliver to a student.”, “No one explained to me that there would be enduring problems for which humanity has yet to solve and for which my students will look at me longingly to try to help them understand.”

In a feeble attempt to answer some of these questions, I reflected on what my career in higher education has taught me and I wrote my younger, eager, wide-eyed self this letter about leadership.

Dear Allison (yes, you - the one wearing the very rose-colored glasses!)…