15

A Chance to Lead

AS DIRECTOR OF THE Office of Support Services, my responsibilities continued to grow, and in 1978, I was appointed associate dean for educational support services. A few years earlier, I had hired Anna Witter-Merithew from Atlanta to lead interpreting services and interpreter training, to take that work off my plate. She was a master interpreter, an experienced trainer of interpreters, and a proud Coda.

As the number of interpreters kept growing, I split the department into two units: the Department of Interpreting Services and the Department of Interpreter Training. Marilyn Mitchell, who was the coordinator of an interpreter outreach program in Louisiana, was hired to lead the interpreting services department while Anna continued to lead the interpreter training programs. Anna and I codeveloped a new associate’s degree program for educational interpreters. The department, the college-wide curriculum committee, the university-wide curriculum committee, the deans and vice presidents, the university president, and finally, the RIT Board of Trustees all approved the curriculum proposal. Upon the board’s approval, it went to the New York State Education Department for final approval and certification in 1981.

My interpreter training students and Alice Beardsley at NTID.

After I completed my coursework at the University of Rochester in two years, I started working on my doctoral dissertation. I was fortunate when Dr. Stuckless formed and facilitated a “nudge” group for faculty members working on their dissertations. We met weekly during lunchtime to discuss issues and concerns about our research efforts and share ideas. Dr. Stuckless was a wonderful and compassionate mentor to all of us. I completed the dissertation in November 1979 and received my doctorate in February 1980. My dissertation, “Comparative Analysis in Reverse Interpreting in Two Separate Languages—ASL and PSE,” focused on factors that influenced voice interpreting from two different forms of sign languages, ASL and Pidgin Signed English (PSE), to spoken English. My friend Harry Scofield modeled all the signing for my research.

Graduating with my doctorate from the University of Rochester with my parents, Stefi, and Bernard.

The doctoral degree did not make me one iota more intelligent, but it gave me the tools and expertise to conduct and analyze research and to problem solve. It has also provided me with access to many opportunities throughout my career.

I WILL NEVER FORGET one of my meetings with Dean Bishop. He wrote in one of my performance evaluations that I needed to be less preoccupied with how others perceived me and to “depersonalize” issues. He added that “perception is like a pothole; it can break a man’s leg.” I wasn’t sure I understood what he meant.

In 1980, Dean Bishop left NTID to pursue new business opportunities. His replacement was a man who was known at his previous institution of higher learning as “the Hatchet Man.” The rumor gained validity when, immediately upon his arrival at NTID, he made many changes and demoted several members of his administrative team without warning. He tried to be friendly, but it was hard for many of us to trust him. It seemed that he kept changing his comments and decisions.

The new dean had no previous experience with deaf education or with deaf and hard of hearing people. It was a difficult and trying time for my colleagues and me, who reported directly to him. After about three years, I went to Dr. Castle and told him about my frustration with the dean’s leadership performance. I said that things were so bad, I was contemplating stepping down from my leadership role and even leaving NTID. For reasons I never found out, the dean was eventually dismissed.

Without engaging the NTID community in a national search process for a new dean, Dr. Castle appointed Dr. Jim DeCaro, who at that time was a faculty member and a school director, as the new dean. After an uproar by faculty and staff about the lack of a search process for a new dean, Jim immediately withdrew from deanship. He advised Dr. Castle to put together a formal national search process. Jim eventually applied, and nine months later, he was the unanimous choice to be the dean. I was thrilled with the decision, as I had always enjoyed working with him.

Jim DeCaro (right) with a student. Courtesy of RIT Archive Collections, Rochester Institute of Technology

Dr. Castle appointed me as associate vice president for governmental and external relations while I kept my responsibilities as associate dean. This new role allowed me to travel to Washington, DC, with Dr. Castle and his executive assistant, Wendell “Gus” Thompson, to meet with congressional members and their key staff members about NTID’s budgetary requirements. We also participated in congressional hearings with the Senate and House appropriation committees. Over time, to our dismay, both houses ceased their budget hearings because they found it to be cumbersome and needed the time and resources to focus on other priorities. Nevertheless, it gave us a chance to meet with each member and the chairs of both committees and subcommittees and their respective staff members individually to discuss NTID’s needs.

In the late 1980s, when NTID was still in excellent fiscal shape, Dean DeCaro put together a new strategic planning committee. The new strategic plan eventually led to a comprehensive reorganization of NTID’s administrative/leadership structure.

Simultaneously, seven centers were established, and search processes were created for new center directors. I was strongly encouraged to apply for one of the centers for baccalaureate and graduate programs that included RIT college-based support departments and educational access/support services—pretty much the same job as I did in the past. However, I wanted to expand my horizons and applied for the center for technical studies, which included teaching and curricula leading to associate degrees. To my disappointment, another internal candidate was selected.

After the seven center directors were appointed, Dean DeCaro immediately created two associate dean positions in the Office of the Dean: associate dean for academic administration and associate dean for student affairs. I was appointed to the latter, which allowed me to work closely with students. Dr. Christine Licata became the associate dean for academic administration. In 1993, we had a new team of the dean, two associate deans, and seven center directors. I continued my role as associate vice president for government and external relations, so I had a dual reporting relationship with both Dean DeCaro and Vice President Castle for several years.

AS I PROGRESSED through various leadership roles at NTID, I was either invited or encouraged to apply for several positions outside NTID, and I followed up on some of them. Each time I applied for a job, I learned something new and sharpened my skills.

In the mid-1980s, I applied for a superintendent position at ISD, the school my father had graduated from in 1938. After the interview, I was not offered the job after being grouped in the lower four of the eight semifinalists who did not have any previous experience as a school superintendent. Dr. William Johnson, the hard of hearing superintendent of the Illinois School for the Deaf for the past twelve years, was ultimately selected. Coincidently, Bill Johnson’s father and my father were schoolmates at ISD, and he had also become a baker as a result of learning the trade there.

Later, I was a finalist for the CEO position at the Lexington Center, where the Lexington School for the Deaf was situated, and underwent a full interview process. Shortly afterward, one of the hearing members of the Lexington board of directors who was on the search committee decided to become a candidate for the position. He had just left his job as vice president of one of the national banks in New York City. He served as a member of NTID’s National Advisory Group and was a father of deaf twin sons who attended Lexington School and NTID. When he met with me in private, he persuaded me to withdraw my candidacy so he could have the job. Amused at his bold and entitled strategy to eliminate his competition before the decision was made, I advised him it would be best to leave the choice to the board. When the board ultimately hired him as the new CEO, the Lexington community and members of the Deaf community in New York City held a protest because they’d hoped and expected that a deaf person would be selected. The media became involved, and several New York state legislators contacted the center for an explanation. After a few months of mounting pressure, he resigned. The Lexington School for the Deaf superintendent, Dr. Oscar Cohen, a Coda whom I deeply respect, was then appointed as the interim CEO of the Lexington Center. He eventually became the permanent CEO and continued as superintendent until his retirement.

In 1991, I was one of two finalists for the provost position at Gallaudet University during I. King Jordan’s presidency. My experience going through the full interview process with the entire Gallaudet community was interesting. Vicki and I enjoyed a lovely lunch chat with the search committee, led by Jack Gannon, at one of the Faculty Row houses. One of the most memorable interviews was with the faculty senate led by Dr. William Marshall. I thought I did well and looked forward to working closely with President Jordan and his management team. The other finalist was an alumnus and a superintendent of a school for the deaf, Dr. Harvey J. Corson, who was ultimately selected. During this process, one of the alumni, Jack Levesque, a friend of mine, sent me an email stating that he thought I would make an excellent provost, but that his loyalty was with the other finalist, a Gallaudet alumnus. This was when I learned how vital a prior Gallaudet connection was during the search and selection process. I was disappointed that I was not selected.

In the mid-1990s, I was a finalist for the superintendent position of the North Carolina School for the Deaf in Morganton. After my interview with the search committee went well, I drove around and checked out the small town to be sure Vicki would be happy if we were to move there. I realized that it was not a viable place for my family—it was a very remote, though beautiful, area, so I withdrew my application. One of my friends, Gary Mowl, was ultimately selected as the new superintendent.

Going through these executive search processes helped prepare me for my subsequent interviews. After one of these interviews, the search committee chair, a man I’d known as a friendly acquaintance for several years, walked me out. “When you give such broad answers, you unknowingly waste some of your time telling them things other than what they are specifically searching to hear from you. In the future,” he said kindly, “Stick to answering the questions they actually ask you.”

In other words: I had talked too much. Unsurprisingly, I didn’t get that job. But I’d learned a valuable lesson, and I would always be grateful for the chair’s willingness to give me an honest critique.

I also learned that the best time to test the job market to see how marketable I was was when I was fully content with my work responsibilities.

Today, I often advise job seekers not to search for another opportunity nor test the market when they are unhappy with their employment. It is best to resolve any problems with your current situation before you start looking for other opportunities. I am often reminded of Abraham Lincoln’s tough climb; before he became president, he lost fourteen previous elections for public office. With that in mind, the message is not to give up, and to continue to seek new opportunities throughout your career.

In 1994, after Dr. Castle retired from the college, Dean DeCaro became the interim director of NTID. A national search for a new RIT vice president and NTID director began in 1995. Dr. Robert R. Davila and I were the two finalists. Dr. Davila was the headmaster/superintendent of the New York School for the Deaf (Fanwood) in White Plains, New York. Before his appointment to Fanwood, he had been the assistant secretary for the Office of Special Education and Rehabilitative Services within the US Department of Education during President George H. W. Bush’s administration. Before that, he’d been vice president for precollege programs at Gallaudet.

Although I didn’t plan to apply for the position, I was encouraged by the search committee to do so. I didn’t know at the time that Dr. Davila would apply for the post. Had I known he was seriously considering it, I would not have applied. Nevertheless, it gave me another unique experience of going through a search process. Davila got the job, making him the first Deaf Latino chief executive officer of the institute. RIT President Albert J. Simone told me that although I was a strong candidate, he believed that Dr. Davila was a better fit for the position. I told him that I would be happy to support Dr. Davila in whatever way I could. Davila began his term on July 1, 1996. In 1998, following a national search, I was selected as the dean of NTID.

MY MOTHER HAD a serious heart condition since she was in her fifties, and had a quadruple bypass heart surgery at the age of sixty-nine while I was at NTID. Since the operation was not successful, she struggled with her health for the next seven years. Fortunately, she saw me obtain my doctoral degree from the University of Rochester. On November 25, 1995, she passed away in Kansas City at the age of seventy-five.

My father continued to live alone at home and didn’t want to move elsewhere. After a bad fall on black ice, while picking up a newspaper on his driveway, he developed ulcers. At the time, he wouldn’t accept my suggestion that he move to Rochester so that I could help out. Fortunately, his doctor and also our friend, Merle Reekers, encouraged him to move. Finally, in February 1996, my father agreed to move to our home for a month until we found an apartment for him. I used Merle’s son Scott’s truck to haul a small moving trailer with my father’s furniture and other belongings. Scott, an NTID student, then drove my father’s car to Rochester. Having my father in Rochester allowed me to take him out every week for lunch, to the grocery store and the cleaners, and to see his doctors. Each time I drove his car, I asked him if he wanted to drive, but he refused. A year later, when his driver’s license and insurance expired, he decided not to renew them. We donated my father’s car to a charitable organization. He enjoyed having visits from us and would come to our home for holidays and celebratory meals. Four years later, he passed away on February 17, 2000. He was buried next to my mother in Kansas City.

Shortly afterward, my paternal Aunt Cranie moved from St. Louis to the same apartment building where my father lived. Vicki and I took care of Aunt Cranie for the next four years before she passed away. She was buried with her husband, Max, in Cleveland, Ohio.

WHEN DR. DAVILA announced his intention to retire from RIT/NTID in 2005, RIT President Simone decided to combine two executive positions—Davila’s vice president position and my position as dean of NTID—into a single job. NTID was too small, Dr. Simone believed, to justify two separate executive positions.

Of course, this impacted me both personally and professionally: I might find myself very soon out of a job. You would think since I was already the dean, it would seem logical to allow me to assume the newly combined position. Not a chance. Though I thought it was strange for Dr. Simone to make this decision without discussing it with me first, I respected his position. It was his call to make.

He wanted a national search, but he encouraged me to apply for the position if I wanted it. Not clearly understanding his motive, I decided not to because I was not sure if he wanted me in this role. When the search committee eventually invited me to apply, I consulted with my trusted colleagues and family. They convinced me that I could be an effective leader of NTID at RIT. With much hesitancy, I sent my application to the committee. Weeks later, I found out that I was one of four finalists. We went through an intensive interview process spanning weeks.

A few months later, while I was holding my breath, wondering if I had the job, I attended one of the biweekly breakfast seminars at the president’s house. Muffins, donuts, and fruit were laid out on a large side table, as usual, flanked by urns of hot coffee. “Dr. Hurwitz,” Dr. Simone said, “Please come see me in my office later this afternoon if you don’t mind.”

“Well,” I thought to myself, “He is going to inform me that I didn’t get the job.” I started to think of Plan B, Plan C, and more for my future. That afternoon, Dr. Simone had the pained look of a stern person trying to be friendly. I sat across from him and an interpreter at a round table. When he said he had five tough questions for me as a part of his final interview with me, I told him to go ahead. They were thought-provoking and intriguing questions to which I answered the best I could. They were related to my leadership style, personality, philosophy of higher education, management skills, and long-term goals for NTID and RIT.

After about an hour, he put his hands above the table and then signed to me, “The job is yours.” I was flabbergasted and stunned, which might have shown on my face.

“Are you surprised?” he asked me.

“Yes,” I told him. “I was preparing myself for the worst.” He smiled and said I did very well in the other interviews. He admitted he wasn’t at first sure how well I would do with my presentation after he saw the three other candidates’ excellent performances. I was the last finalist to present to the entire NTID community. Fortunately, my presentation made him confident I would make a good leader.

“Could you keep the news quiet for another eight days, since Dr. Davila is out of the country in Japan?” he asked me. Of course, I could. He wanted Dr. Davila to be present when he announced the final decision to the NTID community. With a knowing smile on his face, Dr. Simone added, “But you can tell your wife. Nobody else, though; just her.”

I returned to my office and continued to work as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Lin Hoke, my administrative assistant, knowing that I’d had an appointment with Dr. Simone earlier, lingered in my doorway as if waiting for me to say something. I could tell she was afraid to ask me and might have thought to herself that I was not selected.

I called Vicki via videophone to let her know the good news and told her to keep it mum for the next eight days. It was hard, believe me. Everywhere I went, people stared at me with concern, and Vicki was uncomfortable having to respond to friends that she didn’t know whether I got the job. I hope they’ve forgiven her for the white lie!

Dr. Simone sent out a notice that he would be making an announcement the following week in the Panara Theatre—and offered no more detail. Rumors were flying around like crazy. Looking back, I must admit it was fun to see people making wild guesses about who got the job. Even so, it was a difficult time for Vicki and me while we sat separately in the audience; she sat with the student life team.

Finally, Dr. Simone made the announcement at the podium. I was prepared for the worst from the audience because I wasn’t sure what they expected. They jumped up and waved their hands as I went to the stage to be greeted by Dr. Simone and Dr. Davila. Unbeknown to me, our children and grandchildren were waiting outside the theater until the announcement was made. I was surprised when Vicki led them inside to celebrate my new appointment.

In hindsight, I am glad Dr. Simone made the wise decision to go with a national search and that I went through the rigorous application and interview process. If it weren’t for the national search—had I simply been promoted to that position—others would likely have questioned whether it was a fair process, thus making my job more difficult.

On December 1, 2003, I began my new responsibilities as the first chief executive officer who had been born deaf. Dr. Davila, who had become deaf at the age of eleven due to spinal meningitis, was given a six-month sabbatical leave and an office on campus for his external work with his colleague at the National University in San Diego. It was good to have him around, so that I could consult with him when I needed to. He was a great mentor and a good friend, and I deeply appreciated his wisdom.

As soon as I began my new role as vice president and dean, I determined that it was time to take another hard look at the structure of the Office of the Dean. The seven-center structure didn’t live up to its potential, in my view. While it was meant to establish seamless collaboration, each center was too preoccupied with its own internal operations to collaborate. On top of that, there were some turf-related tensions among the centers. The concept of a flat organizational hierarchy had some merit, but the directors’ personalities likely prevented them from working harmoniously together. Departments with similar academic disciplines were not collaborating, making it complicated for students to enjoy frictionless transfers from one academic program to another across the centers.

After discussing my concerns with key individuals at the college, including President Simone and Provost McKenzie, I dissolved the center structure. I then merged departments with similar disciplines into a single academic department. The new academic departments would then report directly to a new associate vice president for academic affairs. Naturally, establishing principles, guidelines, and time lines to restructure and merge the departments took some time. I drafted a paper, “Shaping and Sharing Our Future,” which incorporated a shared vision, principles, and guidelines for reorganizing the structure. We then shared it with the community for their input and feedback. The response was mixed, though mostly positive; some folks were concerned about the implementation details. I knew that change was not easy for some people in the community, but it was time for a new direction that would best serve the interests of students and the college. When I appointed individuals to serve in key leadership positions in the new structure, I believed we had a dream team. We then moved forward to achieve many strategic goals.

Al and Carolie Simone and myself. Courtesy of RIT Archive Collections, Rochester Institute of Technology

In one of my meetings with President Simone, when I was RIT dean and vice president for NTID while discussing my annual appraisal, he shared comments that touched me. “I’m impressed, Alan!” he said. “You’re running a smooth operation, and I admit that at first, I wasn’t sure you were up to the job, but now I see that I was wrong to doubt you.” He summed it all up by saying, “Folks had to work for the previous vice president, but with you, folks wanted to work for you!” I still remember to this day how kind he was to me and how much encouragement from a boss could mean to employees at any level in a workplace. Inspired by his example, I have tried to provide the same support to my employees.

Trying out an electric bike built by Deaf students at RIT/NTID during Imagine RIT festival. Courtesy of RIT Archive Collections, Rochester Institute of Technology

WHEN DR. SIMONE decided to retire after fifteen years, a national search for a new RIT president commenced. Dr. William W. Destler was hired as the new RIT president on July 1, 2007, coming from the University of Maryland in College Park, where he was provost, department chair, dean, and vice president for research. He was also a successful fundraiser for the university. Being an electrical engineer professor himself, he and I connected well. After working closely with him for a year, he bestowed upon me a new title as the president of NTID while retaining my title as RIT vice president and dean. It was a new beginning for NTID and showed that RIT had enormous respect for NTID.

Later in 2008, when President William W. Destler hired Dr. Jeremy Haefner as the new provost at RIT, he needed to find someone to become his associate provost for academic affairs for RIT. Since Dr. Licata, who served as associate vice president for academic affairs at NTID, was highly recommended by the former provost and other academic leaders on the RIT side, Dr. Haefner approached me about Dr. Licata’s appointment as a possible associate provost. Although I was hesitant at the idea of losing Dr. Licata, I believed that it would be a good move not only for her but also beneficial to have someone very knowledgeable about NTID in the Office of the Provost. Dr. Licata had been one of my closest and trusted colleagues for the past ten years during my deanship and presidency. Every time she entered a room, she lit it up like sunshine, with her cheerfulness and optimism. She’d done an excellent job grooming Dr. Laurie Brewer, her associate vice president for academic administration, for advancement into a senior leadership position. Dr. Brewer easily stepped in as the new associate vice president for academic affairs for NTID. Ultimately, it was a smooth transition for both NTID and the provost.

I established a new committee with Dr. Jeff Porter, the center director for research, to help us to develop the Strategic Vision 2010 (SV2010). The SV2010 served as a guide for our administrative and leadership teams. It was one of my first initiatives, assessing where NTID should be headed in the next five to ten years.

With Bill Destler after being named president of NTID.

We identified four goals. First, we wanted to offer three distinct areas of study in career-focused degrees (associate’s degrees), transfer degrees (associate’s degrees), and baccalaureate and master’s degrees. Second, we would establish formal referral programs with selected community colleges to prepare students for their eventual admission to NTID. Third, we would expand access services to meet the changing needs of our cross-registered students in the other colleges of RIT. And last but not least, we would develop an educational outreach consortium to share our expertise with others to improve the education and career development of individuals who were deaf or hard of hearing. The administrative team, in collaboration with the department heads, faculty, and staff, implemented the initiatives from the SV2010. These initiatives reflected bold and significant changes to NTID’s academic programs, access services, and outreach efforts to more closely align with the needs of deaf and hard of hearing students.

We launched a new associate of science degree, which was a fast track transfer degree program similar to 2+2 or 2+3 programs in broad areas that matched RIT offerings in the undergraduate programs. This would prepare students for their future careers, including fields in the humanities, such as journalism and international development. We realigned academic departments to allow faculty and staff with similar backgrounds and training to provide seamless guidance and support to students who aspired to transfer from associate degree programs to baccalaureate programs.

For students who weren’t academically ready for NTID yet, we developed referral programs. NTID also worked closely with selected community colleges to create college-readiness programs that emphasized reading and writing, math, career awareness, and interpersonal growth through the efforts of the Northeast Technical Assistance (NETAC) and Postsecondary Education Programs Network (PEPNet). We expanded access services to meet the changing needs of deaf and hard of hearing students in seven other colleges of RIT.

We also made investments in new technology, and we researched the effectiveness of various access services, including C-Print (real-time captioning) services, hearing aid technology, and support for students with cochlear implants. We spearheaded the formation of an educational outreach consortium to share its expertise with others and to improve deaf and hard of hearing people’s education and career development.

We oversaw the creation of a total of seven outreach programs for deaf and hard of hearing youth in grades seven to eleven—great programs like Math Counts, Tech Girlz, and the National Science Fair, in addition to NTID’s traditional Explore Your Future program.

And near to my heart was our work to establish the Center of Excellence for the Study of Sign Language Interpreting, to understand better how interpreting affects learning and to determine what factors were related to interpreting comprehension, knowledge, and access.

NTID received $600,000 from the Johnson Scholarship Foundation to create a matching fund with the federal government for a $1.2 million scholarship fund, which would provide opportunities for deaf and hard of hearing students eager to become successful entrepreneurs.

As a result of these accomplishments, I traveled to Washington, DC, on behalf of RIT/NTID, to accept the New Freedom Initiative Award from US Department of Labor Secretary Elaine L. Chao in recognition of NTID’s work in furthering educational and employment opportunities for deaf and hard of hearing individuals.

In my second year as RIT vice president and NTID dean, my loyal executive assistant, Gus Thompson, retired. I hired one of my closest and trusted colleagues, Don Beil, to fill the role. Don had a stellar thirty-five years of experience as a professor of computer science and, in 1996, was chosen to receive the RIT Eisenhart Award for Outstanding Teaching as Professor of the Year. He held several interim administrative positions as a department chair and school director. Don and I often traveled to Washington, DC, to meet with key congressional staff members and our colleagues, including critical liaisons between the US Department of Education and RIT/NTID. Don’s primary responsibility was to coordinate meetings for the National Advisory Group, a required activity stipulated in the Education of the Deaf Act. This federal law specifies both NTID and Gallaudet University as specialized institutions for deaf and hard of hearing students.

Don Beil. Courtesy of RIT Archive Collections, Rochester Institute of Technology

THE COLLEGE OF LIBERAL ARTS dean at RIT made a strategic decision to dissolve the baccalaureate degree program in social work during the early 2000s. Since its inception in the 1970s as the only liberal arts major at RIT, the social work program had been a model for educating deaf and hard of hearing students alongside hearing RIT students—in fact, nearly half of the program’s students were deaf. Many of NTID’s alumni, including Vicki, had graduated from the program and gone on to have successful careers as outstanding leaders. Several professors learned sign language so that they could communicate with students in one-on-one situations. Interpreters and notetakers were in extensive use. It was a model, an example of what deaf/hearing education could look like.

But for several years leading up to the dean’s decision to cut it, the social work program had faced a declining enrollment of hearing students. They could go to other local colleges with lower tuition to study social work, such as the State University of New York at Brockport and Nazareth College. At the same time, the RIT College of Liberal Arts expanded its program offerings into many new majors, giving both deaf and hearing students multiple choices of programs other than social work.

The dean approached me to explore the possibility of transferring the social work program to NTID. I agreed to give it serious consideration and deliberated with my administrative team and the RIT provost.

The social work program was accredited by the Council of Social Work Education (CSWE), which is recognized by the Council for Higher Education Accreditation as the sole accrediting body for social work programs in the nation. We decided to check its accreditation requirements and realized that CSWE required that each social work program maintain a minimum of five full-time certified professors with doctoral degrees in the same discipline. I went back to the dean to inform him that we would be interested in this concept, provided that he agree to transfer his faculty to NTID at their cost, or at least share the cost with NTID. No, he explained, it would be our responsibility to fully cover the cost without the help of any resources from RIT. That meant we would have to decide to reallocate NTID’s internal resources, yet we were not prepared to do this. I checked with the senior staff at the US Office of Special Education and Rehabilitative Services (OSERS) to see if we could increase NTID’s budget to support the social work program. They denied our request because they viewed it as a duplication of efforts with Gallaudet University, which already had undergraduate and graduate programs in social work. The OSERS discourages both institutions of higher education—Gallaudet University and NTID—to duplicate academic programs, especially when using federal funds. I went back to the dean to inform him that NTID was unable to accept his proposal without financial support from the university.

This situation was a massive disappointment to the entire social work program and to me. Students, alumni, and faculty were understandably disillusioned with the decision and bombarded us with letters of protest. To this day, alumni from the social work program continue to meet during RIT/NTID’s special events and reunions, most recently at NTID’s fiftieth anniversary celebration. I understand their desire to bring the social work program (or its equivalent) back and believe that it could become a possibility under different circumstances.

One of the highlights during my tenure as the leader of NTID was to acquire $2 million from Communication Services for the Deaf (CSD) to construct a new student development center. CSD’s generous contribution enabled NTID to build a $4.5 million, two-story, 30,000-square-foot building to extend students’ learning experiences by fostering their potential for leadership and community service and to provide opportunities to explore other interests through nontraditional educational and recreational activities.

At the grand opening ceremony with CSD CEO Dr. Ben Soukup, RIT President Destler, and NTID Student Congress President Sarah Gordon, I was gratified that Dr. S. Richard Silverman’s quote from the NTID dedication ceremony in 1974 was imprinted on the circular wall in the building: “NTID … shall be a lustrous beacon … of such magnitude, dignity, and decor … that will illuminate the hearts of all who come to be served here.”

IN THE 1990s, I was faced with one of the most challenging issues at NTID when Deaf community members criticized the fact that one of our dorms was named after Alexander Graham Bell. Bell’s longstanding philosophy of oralism as the primary means for educating deaf children and his involvement with eugenics led him to discourage deaf adults from marrying other deaf adults to prevent future births of deaf children. In the late 1970s, when these new NTID buildings were constructed, the administration chose the building names in the complex. At that time, the administration thought Bell was a fair choice because one of the other buildings had been named after Peter N. Peterson, a deaf teacher at the Minnesota Academy/School for the Deaf, who had visualized a National Technical Institute for the Deaf in an article in 1934. Even though the Deaf community had previously brought this injustice to the attention of the past chief executive officers, the name Bell remained.

With the advent of social media, conversations became more heated and more public. Students, faculty, staff, and alumni became engaged in difficult discussions with the administration, demanding that the name be removed. When I became dean in 1998 and then chief executive officer of NTID in 2003, this matter became a much larger issue to the point that the RIT administration and the board of trustees requested that I address it appropriately.

I appointed a committee of deaf, hard of hearing, and hearing students, faculty, and staff with an inclusive balance of differing perspectives and asked Jim DeCaro to lead the committee. After several weeks of deliberating, the committee had come to a determination of no consensus. The committee subsequently recommended that the name remain on the building, and the wordings on the plaque be modified to incorporate the historical perspective, including the issues and concerns related to language and communication raised by the Deaf community. Believing this was a reasonable approach, I decided to move forward with the committee’s recommendation.

When some members of the committee dissented with the final recommendation by starting the protest again, comments were posted and widely distributed on social media around the world. I was disappointed that the commenters did not respect the committee’s recommendations, and the RIT president and the board of trustees were displeased with the reaction.

I subsequently held an open forum with the entire NTID community and asked for their input. A faculty member, who I deeply respected, stood up and said that she firmly disagreed with removing the name. However, she explained she believed that it was necessary to remove the name so that we could move forward with NTID’s mission and attend to the pressing student needs, curriculum development, and teaching. I sensed that the majority at the forum were in agreement, so I recommended to President Destler that we remove the name. The trustees learned that A. G. Bell was no longer alive and that NTID had never received any monetary donations from the family nor the associated organization. As a result, they authorized the removal of the plaque and Bell’s name.

I instructed the assistant vice president for the NTID facilities to handle the removal; the plaque was removed and, without my knowledge, melted. Several weeks later, a group of students who led the protest against the naming of the Bell Hall asked for the plaque. When I asked them why, they said they wanted to celebrate the removal by throwing eggs, tomatoes, and more at it. I said, “Sorry, the plaque is gone and melted.” They were so upset, they posted about it on social media afterward, and then it finally quieted down.

Instead of renaming the building, its name reverted to its original name of Building C. At the time of this book’s writing, in 2020, there is an influx of other colleges and universities changing the names of their buildings. Interestingly, some universities and institutions are considering an “additive” approach by leaving the controversial monuments alone and adding other monuments in honor of women leaders and other leaders of racial and ethnic movements. Other universities are considering expanding the wordings on such monuments as a reflection of historical discrimination and oppression or even removing these monuments and placing them in a museum or the like.