The Surprising Downside of Stillness, and the Gift of Disruption
Digital learning . . . an advocacy mindset . . . dialogue across difference . . . essential partnerships . . . a new social contract—these phrases were prominent at a recent gathering of higher education leaders in Texas. They reminded me that I am a leader in higher education at a time when we simply cannot stand still and we must, in fact, be open to disruption, discomfort, and departure from some of our older ways.
Higher education has not, historically, embraced change quickly. We’ve thrived on an appreciation for tradition and a respect for a thoughtful and cautious approach to our work. And yet, we’ve certainly seen examples all around us of industries and sectors having to change, to reinvent, to find a new way forward. Disruption often sneaks up on industries “on little cat feet,” to quote Carl Sandburg. Companies as storied as Kodak, which once employed many tens of thousands of workers yet filed for bankruptcy in 2012, disappeared as the digital revolution overtook film and changed the face of photography forever. Newspapers have seen their circulation numbers decline steadily, traditional television distribution is being upended by streaming services, and technology continues to disrupt the financial sector. In many ways, higher education is in good company when it comes to the challenge of making sure we remain relevant.
If I know anything about leading a small, regional, faith-based institution, I know that we must be vigilant about forward movement. My colleagues and I are painfully aware of a 2023 Bain & Company report that noted two-thirds of institutions must shift their business models to survive and thrive. Stillness is a luxury we cannot afford if we want to be around to serve future generations of students.
I’ve learned this not only from my own experience, but from the experiences of those who came before me. There is a mystical force, a sense of stubborn determination that is woven into the very fabric of this university. It propelled us from a modest building on the corner of Pecan and South Market Streets in Brenham, Texas—yes, TLU’s original home was in a donated schoolhouse—to 15 acres of farmland in Seguin. It propelled us from a junior college to a full-fledged senior college in 1948, and from a college to a university in 1996. It has pushed us to continually rethink our goals and to be reinspired again and again to leave our comfort zone behind and expand our boundaries. It has caused us to say “yes” without absolute certainty of where that will lead, always using our faith to accomplish that “yes.”
Because of that momentum, what began as an idea became a reality, and then that reality evolved and has continued to evolve over the decades. We continue to hold to our purpose, our commitment to academic excellence, servant leadership, and career development, but we are constantly finding new ways to achieve that purpose. The university that had its beginnings in an abandoned schoolhouse now offers more than 30 majors and eight graduate programs, over 70 different campus organizations, and is home to an incredibly diverse student population. But to think that we have “arrived” would be a terrible mistake. Instead, we will take up the same task as our founders and be propelled forward by what distinguishes us while recognizing the sneakiness of inevitable disruption.
The surprise is that disruption, when recognized for what it is, can be used as a springboard toward progress, and can lead us to new approaches. For example, our new MBA program is exclusively online in recognition of our target market’s desire for an online cohort experience. We’ve opened nursing centers in neighboring New Braunfels and even in Houston to meet the growing demand for nurses, and we’ve insisted on excellence in training to the extent that more than 96 percent of our nursing students pass the NCLEX on their first try. Our Center for Servant Leadership has found innovative ways to inspire volunteerism among our students so that we are preparing a generation of leaders who understand the importance of informed civic engagement.
Stillness, as nice as it sounds, has really never been our nature. And disruption, as it turns out, isn’t the enemy. Balancing appreciation for the past and present time with an understanding of the ironic value of disruption as a force for progress—that is what we’re about. Our purpose has never been and will never be contained by one generation. And if we are to survive and thrive, we must watch for disruption and use it to propel us forward.