17

My First 100 Days at Gallaudet

AS VICKI AND I HID offstage behind the curtain, the board chair stood at the podium and thanked the search committee for its excellent work. He then turned to look at us—from his place on stage, he could see us standing in the wings, wearing the Gallaudet ball caps and jackets we’d been given for the occasion and asked both Vicki and me to come to the stage. We stepped out from behind the curtain and walked onto the large stage. To our amazement, the crowd was huge—nearly a thousand people standing and waving their arms in celebration. They hadn’t known until this moment who the board had selected as their university’s next president, and they seemed to be happy it was me. How heartwarming! I pointed to Vicki and said, “Here’s the First Lady,” and walked the rest of the way across the stage, up to the podium. My hands were shaking, and there was nothing I could do about it. Luckily, I had my notes with me. I’m not sure I could have spoken off the cuff. My hands continued to tremble a bit as I signed my prepared speech.

My speech was not interrupted by protesters like those who had protested in 2006 when the Gallaudet board selected an internal presidential candidate. Vicki and I were both relieved. After my brief speech, we were hurriedly escorted through the auditorium and lobby as people reached out to greet and congratulate us. Handlers rushed us to a private room for an interview with the Washington Post. As I was answering the reporter’s questions, I felt impatient to be free again to talk with the well-wishers in the lobby. The presidential transition team, the board chair, and the vice chair were in the room with the reporter and us.

“Did you sympathize with the students who protested the board’s selection of an inside candidate in 2006?” the reporter asked me.

I didn’t feel right answering one way or the other, but as I was wondering what in the world I should say, Vice Chair Frank Wu, bless him, quickly took over. “That’s not a fair question to ask someone who wasn’t here and wasn’t involved. And it’s especially not a fair question to ask a brand-new president!”

We’d been in the small room with the reporter for upward of an hour by now. To our disappointment, when we finally emerged, only a few people remained in the lobby. Most had already left since it was a Sunday, and they wanted to go home to be with their families. Later, I was quick to advise the board never to allow this to happen to future president-designates. They should first be allowed to mingle with the community before being interviewed by reporters.

Vicki and I—still dazed—strolled around the city that afternoon and had a leisurely dinner in the evening. We flew back home to Rochester the next morning.

My next challenge was to help President Destler find someone to become the interim president of NTID. We had only two-and-a-half months before we would move to Washington, DC, to start my new position as the president of Gallaudet University on January 1, 2010. I recommended Jim DeCaro for the interim president position, and Dr. Destler agreed and asked me to approach Jim about it.

At first, to my dismay, Jim declined. He was not happy about my leaving for Gallaudet and wanted me to stay during his tenure with PEN-International. After a few days, I asked Jim and his wife, Pat, to join Vicki and me at our favorite ice cream store at Schoen’s Place on the Erie Canal. Though we had a good chat, Jim was unwavering about not assuming the interim presidency. I was disappointed. But the next morning, Jim emailed to let me know he thought it over and agreed to accept my invitation. That was a great relief for me!

I informed President Destler of Jim’s willingness to serve in my absence, which allowed me to focus on wrapping up my responsibilities and preparing for our move. Though we agreed that Jim would begin on December 1, I would remain until the end of December during the transition.

“DON,” I SAID, “I would love it if you came to Gallaudet with me to be my chief of staff.”

“Thanks,” Don said to me with a sad smile, shaking his head. “But as soon as you leave, I plan to retire and move to California to be with Marian and our kids’ families.”

Don Beil, my executive assistant at NTID, had been maintaining a long-distance marriage ever since Marian had moved to the Bay Area a couple of years earlier to be close to their sons and grandchildren.

“I understand,” I said. I couldn’t help myself but add: “Please just consider my offer. Remember how much you loved living in Washington, DC, with Marian thirty years ago? And it’s only gotten better. I think we can do big things at Gallaudet, and I think you’d enjoy being part of that.”

“OK,” he said. “I’ll think it over.”

After some mulling, Don did agree to work with me for no more than six months to allow me to get started and settled. I told him it would be a good arrangement because I wanted him to join my staff, even if only for a short time. Knowing that Don planned to stay only six months, I agreed to allow him to fly home to California to be with his family for one week each month while he worked at Gallaudet.

In October 2009, I sent out a memo to the Gallaudet community to offer my warm greetings and to announce Don Beil as my new chief of staff. I also included the itinerary for my week-long campus visit and looked forward to meeting as many people as possible during our stay. In November, Vicki and I flew to Washington for a week so I could meet with the vice presidents, the provost, the deans, and the executive directors, as well as my chief of staff and the office managers who would report to me as direct reports, and become more acclimated to the campus environment.

Our new home was to be House One, the on-campus, fully furnished presidential residence, also known as the Edward Miner Gallaudet Residence or President’s House, a thirty-five-room Victorian Gothic mansion designed by Vaux, Withers & Co. in 1867. Because it would be our home only for the duration of my service as president, we wondered what to do with our house in Pittsford, NY. Sell it? Rent it out? Keep it and find a way to have someone watch the house for us? We thought of our daughter, Stefi, who was working part-time at Family Services Foundation in Frederick, Maryland; she had thought about moving back to Rochester. Stefi hadn’t had any luck finding a full-time permanent job with full benefits. With that in mind, we asked her if she’d want to move into and take care of our house while we were in Washington, DC. Though she was at first thrilled with the idea, she then realized the irony: Stefi had looked forward to us being closer to her while she was in Maryland! Even so, she moved into our house in December 2009 and immediately landed a great job as a day and residential habilitation staff member at the Center for Disability Rights. In the fall of 2010, she became a teaching assistant for preschool children at RSD.

Debbie DeStefano, who worked in the president’s office as a liaison to the Gallaudet University Board of Trustees, was already waiting for us at the entrance kiosk. After we greeted each other, she led us to the Campus Safety Office at Carlin Hall. We registered for our ID cards, had photos taken, and picked up keys to House 400 on the MSSD Hill, our temporary housing for one month while House One was cleaned, painted, and repaired.

The following Monday, January 4, I walked from House 400 to my new office in College Hall.

“Good morning, President Hurwitz!” Don Beil said when I walked in. He’d beaten me to the office and was ready to work. Over those first few days, I met with each of my direct reports and with the representatives of the student body government, faculty senate, and staff council. I met with Debbie DeStefano and Paul Blakely, both of whom were extremely helpful in getting me started. Daun Banks was the first administrative assistant I had in the office. Pat Thompson, who earlier retired from Gallaudet but returned as a temporary secretary, was very helpful, too.

Vicki and I with the Office of the President staff in House One. Daun Duvall, Pat Thompson, Harold Garvin, Rita Jenoure, Olusegun Aluko, and Paul Blakely.

At that time, Paul Blakely was working 40 percent of his time in the Office of the President and the other 60 percent as an assistant to Dean of Student Affairs Dwight Benedict. Approximately three months later, at my request, Dwight and I agreed to increase Paul’s time allocation to 65 percent with the Office of the President. Over time, Paul’s position with the Office of the President became a full-time position, and he took over the responsibilities as the manager for the Office of the President and House One. All staff employees within the Office of the President reported to him.

While Don, my chief of staff, was more of a visionary person, he worked closely with the board, vice presidents, deans, and directors to implement action plans set forth by the board and the president. Don prepared annual reports to the US Department of Education and coordinated congressional visits for me.

WHEN VICKI MET Paul during the November visit, they easily and quickly clicked, especially since both were Virginia natives. Paul and Vicki, “partners in crime” as they called each other, worked together to get House One ready for our move-in on February 2. They had some wallpaper stripped off, repainted walls, and rearranged furniture on the second and third floors—everything was done to freshen and maintain, and also to make sure Vicki and I could feel at home. It is a huge place, five or six times the size of any house we’d ever lived in before, with three floors of living space, a full basement, and a small attic under a cupola. We occupied the second and third floors; our master bedroom and my office were on the second floor, and the family room, small kitchen, and Vicki’s office were on the third floor. The large kitchen on the first floor was used primarily by the catering service for special university events. One of the rooms in the basement was my exercise room. Although it also had a sauna and a cedar closet for bottles of wine, we didn’t use them.

Vicki and Paul Blakely were "partners in crime". Paul was the manager of the Office of the President and House One.

Shortly after our move into House One, people frequently asked whether we saw ghosts. Vicki’s response from that day on to today has been, “Yes, there are ghosts, but I didn’t see them.” The first night after dinner in the upstairs small kitchen, I started my usual routine of washing dishes. I noticed there was no hot water and asked Vicki, who was puzzled because she had hot water while she cooked. We contacted Paul, who then contacted a plumber. He came right away and checked—no hot water. But there was hot water in the bathroom on the same floor! Puzzled, he went to the basement to check and came back up. Still no hot water. He went back down and tried to fix it. Yes, hot water came back on. The next morning, there was no hot water . . . again . . . so Paul was contacted again, and the plumber came back. There was hot water.

Was that a ghost playing tricks on us? There were many different incidents with Casper, our friendly ghost, and after the second year, the tricks stopped. Maybe because he figured we’re fit to live in the house after all. Who knows?

In 2011, we commissioned Sander Blondeel, a deaf Belgian artist, to create a substantial stained glass piece to cover the unsightly view of the gas station from one of the windows in Vicki’s office. The stained glass depicted butterflies, College Hall, and House One. The Capitol also could be viewed from the other window in Vicki’s office. We later donated this piece to Gallaudet University; it is now on display in the ASL and Deaf Studies Department in the Sorenson Language and Communication Center.

Paul and his staff immediately worked on a plan for my inauguration as the tenth president of Gallaudet University. It took place on Wednesday, May 12, which coincidentally was my father’s birthday, and on the same week as Gallaudet’s commencement. Our families and friends from all over the country were in attendance.

While the board of trustees had been contemplating who to select from the four presidential finalists, twenty-six members and friends of the Washington Society of the Jewish Deaf were touring in Israel. By chance, all four of us finalists were Jewish, so the group decided to buy a mezuzah in Israel for the front door of House One and present it to whoever was selected. As soon as they learned that I was the president-designate, they contacted me about setting up a mezuzah blessing ceremony. Rabbi Darby Leigh, the deaf son of Irene Leigh and David Leigh, whom we’d known since before Darby was born, officiated the ceremony. Afterward, Vicki and I added other mezuzahs to four other doors on the first floor.

The Washington Society of the Jewish Deaf visiting in Israel.

“HAPPY SO FAR?” I asked Vicki at our breakfast table one morning, the early winter sun slanting in from outside. We were both dressed for the day, and I had already done my daily exercise on my stationary bike.

“Yes!” she said, “very happy, but worried about you. I’m worried this job might put a lot of stress on you!”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ve got lots of energy, and I’m excited about doing the work. What about you? Do you think you’ll have enough to do as First Lady?”

Knowing her as I did, I knew that she would soon be as busy as I was. And I was right. Vicki was a natural at all the things that would make her a beloved First Lady of Gallaudet University: mistress of ceremonies, teacher, hostess of receptions, and a good friend to people all across the campus, from students to professors and members of the administration. Vicki quickly embraced her role and delved into voluntary services for the university. She served as a guest presenter for social work and freshman seminar courses and at events. Vicki often visited the students in the Deaf women’s studies class. And she especially enjoyed hosting receptions at House One.

“When I retire,” I teased her, “they are not going to let you leave.”

“Because I didn’t apply for this job and don’t have a contract or a job description,” she told me, “I just get to do what I enjoy doing!”

Many alumni remarked that Vicki was very much like the beloved Frances Merrill, the wife of Gallaudet President Edward “Pete” Merrill, during his presidency from 1969 to 1983. And whenever Vicki and I went on the road, we had fun presenting together about Gallaudet University. I’d talk about the mission of the university and the goals and activities that were established and accomplished, and Vicki would speak about the history of House One and the First Ladies of Gallaudet. People were often surprised to learn that she was not the first nor the second, but the third deaf First Lady. Vicki always explained that the first one was Ethel Zoe Taylor Hall, who married Professor Percival Hall following her graduation from Gallaudet. Dr. Hall subsequently served as the second president of Gallaudet University. The second was Donna Davila, spouse of Dr. Robert R. Davila, the ninth president of Gallaudet.

Being installed as president of Gallaudet with my grandchildren in attendance.

Vicki appreciated the rich history of House One and was surprised that many alumni had never set foot in it. With the help of Gerri Frank, who retired in 1997 as the administrative assistant to five Gallaudet presidents, and Mike Olson in the Gallaudet Archives, Vicki researched its history.

Vicki with Gerri Frank who served a total of five Gallaudet presidents before her retirement. She provided a great deal of historical information about Gallaudet, House One, and presidents to both Vicki and me.

Vicki and Jane Norman on a pier in Lake Ontario, Rochester, New York.

DURING OUR FIRST SUMMER in Washington, we were faced with unwelcome visitors picnicking on warm evenings on the private front lawn of House One. And frequently, some hearing, non-Gallaudet folks from off-campus would walk right up to the house to peer into the windows, which never failed to frighten or startle Vicki. As a result, the Facilities Department built a fence from the Seventh Street gateway up to the driveway just before the front side of the house while we were out of town. When we returned and saw the eight-foot-high fence, we were horrified at its height. Facilities eventually replaced it with another fence that was only about four feet high. We were disappointed and hurt when some members of the Gallaudet community expressed concern and suspicion regarding our new fence: Where did the funds for this fence come from, they asked? We felt that it was a necessary improvement. Fortunately, after people saw how nice it looked and how it enhanced House One’s overall role as a symbol of the university and a real residence all in one, the questions faded away. Having the fence was especially helpful when Vicki hosted kindergarteners and first, second, and third graders to garden with her at House One because they were able to play games and run around freely and safely on the front lawn.

AT RIT/NTID, I had enjoyed having a full-time designated interpreter who accompanied me on all my travels and to most of my meetings. At Gallaudet, I worked with the Gallaudet Interpreting Services to identify a small group of interpreters who could work with me as designated interpreters. Unlike RIT, which is a mainstreamed campus, almost everyone at Gallaudet was fluent in ASL and rarely used interpreters in staff meetings. Some interpreters might show up to aid a notetaker in selected cabinet meetings by voicing for those who use ASL without their voice. At Gallaudet, I was fortunate to have a cadre of highly skilled interpreters with whom I could easily fit in many meetings off-campus, such as congressional meetings, community board meetings, and meetings with donors, trustees, and nonsigning campus visitors.

AFTER THE Middle States Commission in Higher Education (MSCHE) placed the university on probation in 2006 due to its unsatisfactory response to the MSCHE’s fourteen requirements, Dr. Robert Davila stepped in as the interim president on January 1, 2007. He immediately assigned his senior administrators and key faculty and staff members to develop responses to each of the MSCHE’s fourteen requirements. The university ultimately received a positive response from MSCHE, with a status change from probation to warning and finally to satisfactory within seven months.

Then the board of trustees decided to commission a five-year strategic plan to address the remaining shortcomings and guide the university’s future work, laying out benchmarks and clear goals with the help of an external consultant, Booz Allen Hamilton. During the presidential search process, I’d been handed a packet about this newly adopted Gallaudet Strategic Plan (GSP), which had already been approved by the board of trustees in the summer of 2009. At first, it seemed like a favorable position for me to be in—serving as a new president who already had a clear set of instructions.

But the GSP’s existence would prove to be a challenge. When I arrived on the campus in January 2010, leaders of the faculty senate explained to me that the previous administration had not sufficiently consulted the faculty during the plan’s creation. They also outlined how the shared governance principles the university was supposed to follow had not been fully incorporated as well. The definition of the bilingual philosophy on campus was a significant point of contention. Several faculty leaders believed that it should refer solely to proficiency in both ASL and written English. In contrast, some trustees felt that the English component should have been in a broader context that included spoken English. The faculty was also concerned that the GSP was too detailed and contained too many subcomponents under each of the five strategic goals: enrollment, retention, revenue generation, academic quality, and research.

I began to see that I was at a disadvantage—too late to the scene. I hadn’t had the privilege of initiating a new strategic planning process with the Gallaudet community. Not only was it a plan developed before I’d arrived, but I also was left with a board mandate to implement the GSP at the earliest possible time.

“My first 100 days are going to be key,” I told Vicki one night over dinner in Rochester, before we moved to Washington. So crucial, in fact, that I had drafted an ambitious and comprehensive plan for what I wanted to put into place in my first few months at Gallaudet and how I was going to enlist the work and expertise of the people around me to make it work.

When I presented my 100-Day Plan to the board a month before my start date, I stressed to them that my focus as president would be on people. People make things work or fail. People are the source of all ideas. People, and their positive relationships with each other, had always been the cause of any success I’d ever had. I asked the board to consider the categories in my plan to show that my priority was to work with people on campus to implement the GSP. The board subsequently endorsed the proposed 100-Day Plan. I also shared principles for expectations and essential qualities for a successful cabinet, which enabled me to proceed with my entering the presidency.

It was my intention during the first 100 days and throughout my presidency to be as visible and available as possible, particularly for students. I expressed my desire for the community at Gallaudet to gain an understanding of my expectations throughout the university. My transparency, ability to communicate clearly, and especially my ability to encourage people smarter than myself to do great work, had served me well in Rochester. And the leaders I had most enjoyed working for had been those whose goals and standards were clear and understandable. These early days were a time for people to become comfortable with me and confident in my ability to build personal relationships of trust with others. I wanted the community to have renewed confidence in Gallaudet and a sense of teamwork for the good of our students and the university.

After I’d shared the 100-Day Plan with the cabinet, I assigned cabinet officers to implement the goals related to their respective roles and responsibilities. We developed a long list of proposed agenda items for discussion with the cabinet over the next four to six months. One of the highest priorities was to establish task forces to assess and prioritize academic programs, student services, and administrative services that would enable the university to make sound decisions on using its financial resources to support the university’s needs on a priority basis.

The 100-Day Plan provided us with a road map for between four and six months (accounting for weekends and holidays). It had seven categories: composition and duties of the Gallaudet president’s cabinet; GSP implementation; governance groups; the board of trustees; my office’s relationship with students, staff, and faculty; external affairs (in particular the relationships among the university and various government regulatory and funding agencies); and finally, other mandatory work, like travel and campus events that were already planned or would need to be.

My cabinet at Gallaudet University.

I established the new cabinet as a new leadership team. The purpose was to expand membership that would ensure a broader and more diverse representation of the Gallaudet community. The cabinet’s charge was to carry out the university’s mission.

I emphasized that although most cabinet members would continue their current reporting relationships, over time, I expected changes to occur in the president’s office. Membership on the cabinet might expand or contract over time as a reflection of changing needs.

“I want you all to represent the broadest of university perspectives,” I explained at our first meeting, “not just your current areas of assignments.” By using a team approach, my cabinet would work toward consensus in the best interests of the university and students, rather than advocating for their respective areas.

The Gallaudet Board of Trustees during my administration.

I explained that other individuals might be invited to participate in certain meetings, or parts of such meetings, depending on the agenda, which may benefit from their input, insights, and feedback.

My 100-Day Plan item regarding the GSP clarified that key senior administrators would implement the strategic plan by involving faculty, staff, students, and specific external individuals to develop action plans for attaining each objective.

I wanted to build a sense of the importance of various governance groups to the success of the university by meeting with those groups. These meetings were crucial for attending to their concerns, emphasizing how their participation enhanced the university and how we needed their help with addressing issues related to the GSP’s implementation.

I assured the board that I would make all board activities a high priority, ensure board needs were met, and provide regular communication. I indicated that I would collaborate with the board to formulate the president’s plans of work and develop a new evaluation system to be reviewed and approved by the board at the April 2010 board meeting.

I also laid out a plan to take the necessary time to meet with and know people on campus through a wide variety of activities, ranging from simply walking around the school, to attending student and sports activities on campus, to hosting events for students, faculty, and staff at House One. I informed the board that I created a new chief of staff position in the Office of the President and that Don Beil from NTID was appointed to serve in this capacity.

Recognizing the need to build better public relations and improve marketing and development efforts at the university, I laid out a specific plan to work closely with leaders in these areas.

I would form a new university council made up of leaders from four governance groups—the faculty senate, the staff council, the student body government, and the graduate student council—along with key leaders from the cabinet. Bringing these people together in a forum would allow everyone to share each other’s goals, activities, and accomplishments and also to discuss critical issues, needs, and concerns affecting the welfare of the university and students. The university council would keep the community posted on major issues that affected the university, such as the federal budget, academic affairs, student affairs, the facilities, and policies. The university council would be open to any member of the public who was interested in attending as an observer.

Regarding external relations, I presented a plan to fast-track meetings with key individuals on Capitol Hill, the US Department of Education and other federal agencies, national professional and consumer advocacy organizations, and major donors. I also reported that I would be traveling throughout the country over the next several months to meet with alumni chapters and solicit their support for the university.

The Alabama School for the Deaf and Blind and the Texas School for the Deaf invited me to give graduation speeches. I also committed to attend and participate in national conferences, including those for the NAD, the Conference of Educational Administrators Serving the Deaf, and the International Congress on Education of the Deaf.

I outlined how the president’s office and I would work with Vicki, as the university’s First Lady, to organize receptions for students, faculty, alumni, donors, congressional representatives, and other visitors to House One. And lastly, the university’s 150th anniversary celebration was only four years away and would have to be appropriately commemorated with marketing and events.

As a part of the charge to the community related to the GSP’s implementation, I formed two major task forces to allow a complete assessment of the university’s strategic plan and operations. One task force focused on academic programs and the other on administrative programs and services. The main reason for these two task forces was to demonstrate to the campus community that to run a university successfully, a president must get feedback from as many stakeholders as possible. It was an opportunity for the university to conduct a comprehensive review of its existing programs and services.

Upon receiving final reports from both task forces and in consultation with the board, I assigned the recommendations to senior administrators—vice presidents, the provost, and deans—to review and implement the recommended action plans. (Most completed them in a timely fashion over the next few years.) These implemented strategies were helpful in the university’s self-review in time for the university’s next full assessment by the MSCHE in 2012 and 2013.

I was impressed with the intense work of the task force committees. I felt that interested individuals in the Gallaudet community had sufficient occasions for dialogue with the administration before decisions were made related to university budget priorities and resource allocations aligned with the GSP. Although some community members expressed concern or disagreed with a few decisions, the rationale for each choice was made clear to the community. The university must be able to reallocate its finite resources to the high-priority areas, those focused on students and the university as a whole.

At the end of January, my first month at Gallaudet, it was a balmy sixty-eight degrees in Washington. Vicki and I joked that our friends back in Rochester were probably still hidden in layers of puffy coats and hats. But then, a few days later, on February 5, it snowed over seventeen inches in twenty-four hours, blanketing the campus and the entire city. “Snowmageddon,” the biggest snowstorm in decades, was all anyone could talk about. We canceled classes. A few well-prepared students and faculty glided across campus on cross-country skis while other students built massive snowmen in the quads. And then a week later, it snowed another ten inches. Vicki and I enjoyed the winter wonderland view from our kitchen window.

My first 100 days were not without their expected share of controversy. That spring, the Gallaudet Department of Art, Communication, and Theatre chose Corpus Christi, a satirical play, for its spring production. Written by Terrence McNally in 1997, the play dramatizes the story of Jesus and the Apostles, depicting them as gay men living in modern-day Texas. Judas betrays Jesus because of sexual jealousy, and Jesus administers gay marriage between two apostles. Unsurprisingly, some people found the idea of the play blasphemous. A group of Gallaudet students—along with fundamentalist Christians not a part of the Gallaudet community —objected to the play and demanded its cancellation. “Just as everyone is entitled to their own good reputation,” a protest organizer wrote online, “Gallaudet University has no right to harm and slander the spotless reputation of the God-Man with blasphemy, then run to academic freedom for cover.”

For several days, my office’s phone lines lit up with calls from protesters. Tarleton State University in Texas had just canceled a production of the same play as a result of similar pressure and even threats of violence, fanned by a national organization called the Defense of Tradition, Family, and Property. Dr. Steve Weiner, the provost, and I decided it would be best to open up a dialogue with the concerned students and see if we could arrive at a consensus. The students were not satisfied and contacted external religious groups to become involved. I received over 30,000 emails and letters by snail mail.

I. King Jordan, myself, and Robert Davila at the twenty-fifth anniversary celebration of Deaf President Now.

The mounting pressure did not shake our confidence in some basic principles: freedom of expression, the role of art, and Gallaudet’s responsibility to both as a leading liberal arts university. Provost Weiner issued a statement to Inside Higher Ed, which was covering the story, that encapsulated these principles beautifully: “Gallaudet University neither endorses nor condemns the views expressed in Corpus Christi or any dramatic production. We understand that there are people who will find this play affirming, liberating, and cathartic, and others who find its message disrespectful, distasteful, and repugnant. We seek to allow all views to be aired openly and respectfully, and we hope that open discussions will allow individuals to listen to one another. This is the hallmark of an academic institution.”

The provost and I continued to work with both the theatre department chair and the director of the play to be sure there would be open pre- and postdialogues about the play. We wanted students to have the opportunity to gain a better appreciation for freedom of speech and expression.

When the play was performed, Vicki and I attended the opening night. Campus Safety officers and the DC Metropolitan Police Department were at the ready to ensure that the campus was safe for everyone (we had received threats of violence), including concerned playgoers. Protesters held signs and voiced their objections behind a rope that sectioned off an area for them. The series of open dialogues held before and after the play went smoothly, and it was a learning experience for all of us. I was particularly struck by statements from gay people about how hurtful it was to face a culture so antagonistic to a fundamental part of your self—who you want to be with, who you love. I also gained an understanding of the other perspective, of a devout believer who saw the theatrical exploration of Jesus’s life as disrespectful and hurtful.

“It was very well performed,” Vicki noted on the way home, and I agreed.

“The question-and-answer session afterward was very well handled too,” I added.

The university administration and I believed that we had achieved the goal of fostering a climate of respect and understanding.

AT THE START of my presidency, I was pressed with a mandate by the board to reduce operating costs. One of the first things I did was implement internal cost controls, which helped reduce unnecessary expenditures, such as travel costs, consultant fees, and energy costs. We also implemented approval processes at different levels from managers and department chairs to deans and executive directors and finally to each respective vice president. This process helped to monitor expenditures and reduce costs wherever appropriate without compromising the quality of education and services for students.

Unfortunately, my administration anticipated that the federal appropriation would either be frozen or reduced over the next few years and the university’s projected operational costs would continue to rise. I was faced with the immediate need to reduce staffing within the first four months of my presidency. The vice presidents, deans, executive directors, and department heads did their best to encourage employees who were laid off to apply for open essential positions. We also provided separation packages that included severance pay and professional assistance for seeking a new job or obtaining training. Although it was a painful and challenging process, my staff and I worked with human resources to ensure that the layoffs for each individual would be done as humanely and fairly as possible.

I have often wondered if I could have done things differently. Of course, I wish taking on such difficult decisions could have waited until I had at least a full year of the presidency under my belt. I was grateful to the vice presidents, deans, and executive directors for their willingness to work together to achieve the mandated reduction in force, as unpleasant as it was for all involved. Though difficult, the personnel reduction helped the university get into better financial shape, allowing the university to survive a 5.23 percent (or $6.1 million) cut to Gallaudet’s federal appropriation.

Fortunately, after six months of operating without the $6.1 million in 2013, Congress temporarily restored the funds for the following fiscal year. We were still unsure whether the sequestration would be extended for the next ten years per law. Also, during my presidency, Gallaudet saw a significant increase in its endowment fund from $150 million in 2010 to close to $190 million in 2015. This helped support student needs and ensured the university’s viability and sustainability.

The primary challenge for both Gallaudet University and RIT/NTID is recruiting students. Since the early 1970s, several federal laws—the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act (IDEA), Section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act, the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA), and other civil rights laws—have made it possible for hearing colleges and universities to make their programs accessible, giving deaf students a more extensive choice of postsecondary programs they can attend.

Funding for a college education is another challenge among deaf or hard of hearing students because of a major reduction in vocational rehabilitation (VR) funds for students with disabilities who aspire to go to college. Many VR agencies, which are at the state level, keep students within their home states and often require them to attend a community college for at least two years before they transfer to Gallaudet or RIT/NTID.

Most college and universities have a student transfer rate of somewhere between 3 and 4 percent; for Gallaudet and RIT/NTID, the average is 25 to 30 percent. When speaking with other university presidents, I would explain that most transfer students who came to our colleges shared that they were searching for better opportunities to become fully engaged in college life.

Although deaf and hard of hearing students have more choices than in the past, “mainstreamed” colleges and universities can deprive deaf students of a meaningful college life experience. Where other than Gallaudet or RIT/NTID can deaf students become fully engaged in campus activities? Where else can a deaf student become president of the student body government, editor of the school newspaper, or land a leading role in theatrical productions? Where else can a deaf student-athlete become the captain of a sports team? I often shared with students and their families that a college education might take only four or five years, but could be some of the best times of their lives where they would form lifelong relationships with their peers. I also added that these experiences could lead to good jobs, enable them to become leaders, and create a good quality of life in their communities.

Senator Harkin (front row, to the left of me) came to the ground breaking of the new MSSD dorm’s site.

WE WERE FORTUNATE to have a truly wonderful friend in Senator Tom Harkin of Iowa (coincidently, Senator Harkin’s deaf brother and my father were schoolmates at the Iowa School for the Deaf). He made sure that Gallaudet remained funded with a modest increase in the budget, while many other federal programs were either cut or eliminated. During my six years as president, Senator Harkin was also extremely helpful in securing funding of at least $7 million per year for the construction of a new MSSD dormitory, which amounted to $28 million over four years. Though he was unable to obtain the entire amount in a one-year federal appropriation, my staff and staff members in Senator Harkin’s office worked out an extended appropriation plan that would spread the entire amount over the next several years. The new MSSD dormitory was completed and opened for student residents in January 2017.