Coming to Terms with Professional Failure

Watching my Younger Brother Receive His Doctorate Degree (...Almost...) Triggered my Inner Battles with Unmet Goals

As Duke University’s 2023 commencement exercises began and the students who were about to have their degrees conferred upon them filed onto the field, the sun broke through the clouds as if to shine approval on what was about to take place. There would be no showers that day. It was a poignant effect which was not lost on the poetic side of me.

This is good, because there was a part of me which was sad too. Watching my younger brother earn his doctorate made me feel like a bit of a failure.

There was a time when I thought I’d be the first child in the family to be called “Doctor.”

Here’s the story:

Once upon a time… (It was the fall of the year 2000.)

…In a land far, far away… (It was in Quincy, Massachusetts.)

…I believed I was called by God to be a college president. 

At the time I was working as the Assistant Grounds Manager at my alma mater, Eastern Nazarene College, or “ENC” as we call it. ENC was something of a family business. My great-grandfather had been president there in the 1920’s, dying on a fund-raising trip in 1930. Great-grandma carried out their mission for the school and remained on staff, mostly as the registrar, for decades. Their son Stephen, my grandfather, would become president of ENC in the 1980’s. In fact, grandpa was president of 4 Nazarene institutions, the founding president of one of them. When it came to Nazarene higher education, grandpa Nease was a rock star. Perhaps the rock star when he was in the peak of his career. Everyone loved him. I wanted to be just like him.

At age 24 I was doing my best, albeit accidentally, to walk in his footsteps. Grandpa fulfilled various campus jobs in the earliest days of his career, and so did I. My first post-college job was as the night security supervisor on campus. A bit less than a year after that I took the position of Assistant Grounds Manager. I was in this role when a consultant in the Development office, we’ll call him Clancy, began to take notice of me at work. 

I’d see Clancy walking across campus with a big, somewhat goofy grin. When we made eye contact the grin would turn into a toothy, friendly smile making you forget the goofiness. I met him in the spring of 2000 when he volunteered for our campus planting day. We didn’t talk much, with the managerial duties of the day getting in the way of more meaningful conversation. At most, we had time to introduce ourselves to each other, and I provided him with instructions as to which flower bed he’d be planting, who his partner was on that day, etc…

Other than that, we simply continued the surface-level greetings from time to time. A hand wave here, a knowing nod there, a friendly smile everywhere. I didn’t know it, but he was observing how I worked on campus. Apparently I passed muster when it came to my people skills and administrative capacity, at least for the job I had at the time.

As I often did, I had decided to have lunch in the campus cafeteria, and went up a bit earlier than the student rush. I was sitting at a table by myself, observing the campus activity out one of the windows when Clancy approached. He asked if he could join me. I obliged and the small-talk began.

“It’s hard to believe we’re pulling up all those flowers we planted back in May,” I said, recalling Clancy had helped plant them on campus planting day.

“It sure is! The summer really flew by! Are you and your crew able to keep ahead of all the leaves?”

I replied with a chuckle and a small-talk joke.“For the most part, but you know, falling leaves are job-security in my line of work!” 

Clancy laughed, then began to funnel the small-talk into something more meaningful. “What are your career plans, Jeff?”

“I’m not sure, really. I like my job right now and love ENC, but I think at some point I’ll have to get more serious about a career.”

At this point Clancy put his silverware down, swallowed what he was chewing, wiped his mouth clean, and assumed a, Let’s get down to business posture.

“Do you have a few minutes?” He asked. I nodded. “Good, I need to tell you something.” The next words out of Clancy’s mouth would change the course of my life.

“Jeff,” he paused, taking an extra moment to choose his words carefully, “I hope you don’t take any offense to what I say. I don’t mean to offend, in fact, quite the contrary.” 

Not sure how I was supposed to respond, I gave Clancy a blank stare, happy to have a mouth full of food to chew on. He put up his hand, a motion that indicated I hold my reaction until he was finished with what he had to say.

“I have difficulty watching you, a guy with your leadership abilities and potential, without wondering why you are settling for an assistant grounds manager position at a small college. Don’t get me wrong, I love horticulture and place high value on individuals that work on the physical plant side of college and universities, but I think you can attain more. It didn’t take me long to notice you and I’ve been watching you ever since I arrived on campus. It is very evident that you love your job. You are a tremendous leader in your department and your whole crew responds to you well. The campus looks great and it’s because of the leadership you bring to your department.”

“Thank you.” I said, a bit taken aback but reveling in the kind words. He continued.

“But I watch more than just your job performance. I’ve watched how you interact with people on campus. Your personality brings respect, and it’s clear that you truly care about the people around you. You want each person on campus to feel they are a welcomed and valued member of the ENC community.”

While I was surprised by these kind words, I was beginning to understand why Clancy was always so nice to me. I was listening intently as he continued…

“You probably don’t know this, but I worked with your grandfather for a time when he was at Mount Vernon. I helped him with some fund-raising. Your grandfather was a well respected college administrator, development officer, and college president. He had skills and personal abilities that you just can’t teach. It was these abilities that made him a well-respected and effective leader. When I watch you I see all of the same qualities. These are qualities that for the most part cannot be taught, but they can be molded and strengthened. That’s not going to happen in your current position.”

These words were beginning to have a significant impact on me. My grandfather wasn’t just my grandfather. He was my hero. He was everyone’s hero. Here was a man that I hardly knew telling me I had the same qualities that made my grandfather the man he was. 

Clancy had stirred my heart. I was spellbound as he began to build a case for himself as a mentor of college presidents and development officers. As he did, it became clear to me that he was hoping to do the same with me. He wrapped up his pitch with words I was only too eager to hear.

“Jeff, if you were mentored properly I could see you attain a college presidency during my lifetime.”

Having said what he wanted to say, he took a bite of his salad. Unsure how to respond to something like that, I simply smiled and said, “Wow. Thank you. I’m not sure what to say.”

“Jeff, here’s what I’d like to do…I am confident that I can talk to the college president about this and get you the money it would take to pay you. I’d like to take you under my wing, train you, and get you on the road raising money for ENC. Why don’t you think about it for a little while and when you feel comfortable, let me know what you decide.”

I mean, come on. There was only one thing for me to decide. Of course I jumped at the opportunity. The fact is, I didn’t see it as just an opportunity.

I believed it was a call from God. 

I still recall the visceral, emotional experience I had as this man told me everything I ever wanted to hear. “I worked with your grandfather. You’re a lot like your grandfather. I think you could be a college president like your grandfather.”

“Of course!” I told myself. “It makes perfect sense!”

Then one day less than a week after our conversation in the cafeteria, Clancy had a disagreement with another administrator. He called and told me the disagreement had led him to decide to relinquish the role he’d been filling for the institution. He then asked if I could drive him to the airport. As I did, he apologized profusely, told me if I ever moved to his part of the country he’d love to work with me.

I dropped him off at the airport and haven’t seen him since.

That was that.

Sort of.

A couple days later I met with the president of the college and tried to sell myself in a role which didn’t exist. It didn’t go like I hoped. The development career didn’t … develop.

After wallowing in self-pity for a while, wondering where God went all of the sudden, I began to look for other avenues to a college presidency. The following summer I applied for a new position at the college as Resident Director. It wasn’t what I’d wanted to begin with, but I recognized that grandpa had served as Dean of Men for a while, so there was a connection there. It would be fair to say I gave it “the ol’ college try,” if you will. I even began work on my Masters Degree in college student affairs. 

I would complete the degree in 2006. By that time I’d experienced some frustration at ENC, left, and worked for a time at Emerson College before calling it quits, a mere 6 months after earning the degree.

Flash forward to May of 2023, as I sat in the crowd at Duke University, watching my younger brother stand and receive his degree. I was happy for him. We all were. My heart was filled with pride.

But I’d be lying if I also pretended there wasn’t a hint of shame niggling on my conscience.

My ego, the one who had basked in the sun as Clancy waxed poetic about my potential to be a college president, spoke up a bit.

That should be us. Actually, that should have been us several years ago.

Over the years I’ve watched as numerous people in my graduate school cohort went on to earn their doctorates. There was a hint of sting each time they did, my ego needling me a bit with self-reproach, trying its best to convince me I’m a failure. There was a time when it would have worked too.

For sure, I failed on my road to higher education administration. With the benefit of two decades worth of hindsight including a couple other career let downs, I’ve come to recognize some factors which led to the end of that road.

First was the “passion” problem. At best my passion was misdirected. At worst, nonexistent. During my interview for the Resident Director position, the man who would soon be my supervisor wasn’t sold on me in the role. He looked right at me and asked why I was passionate about the position. I told him. He then told me he wasn’t feeling the passion and asked me to explain again. Then again. After my third attempt, he relented, but remained unconvinced.

He was right. My passion, if I had any, was about being a college president like grandpa was. I wanted to be a leader like he had been. My passion was for the accolades I remember coming with grandpa’s success. It was not to do the work which brought the success.

It doesn’t take passion to be successful. It takes consistent work. Probably some luck, privilege helps, etc… but mostly work.

Second, I had little appreciation for starting at the ground level and working my way up. As the first son of a pastor, and the grandson of someone we might consider royalty in our church denomination, my appreciation for what they did resulted in a 24-year-old-me that was full of entitlement. Then, when I graduated from college, I was of the impression the degree in hand was a career jump-starter, an expensive and somewhat arrogant way to propel oneself up a couple rungs on the career ladder.  Add to this my “call” from God, I didn’t even know what entry level looked like. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t haughty in my entitlement. I didn’t wave my specialness in anyone’s face.  I believed they understood me the way I understood me.

I was naive, blind to certain realities of life.

These weren’t lessons I would learn quickly or easily. It would take years and almost cost me my marriage before I began the process of self-examination which led to an appreciation for working, for earning success.

During the years when I was waiting for God to show me the right door to walk through, I used to compare myself to Joseph at the bottom of the well. You remember that biblical character, right? The one that was called by God to lead, then bragged to his brothers about how they’d one day bow down to him, and then ended up almost murdered by those brothers? The story as I remembered it was that Joseph never gave up faith that God would make it all happen. That’s what I was doing.

Waiting for God to make it all happen. 

If there’s any comparison to Joseph it might be that when he was at the bottom of the well, or sold into slavery, or then in prison, he learned some humility. I don’t know. I don’t remember that being part of the Sunday School lessons.

I’m on the other side of this stuff now. It’s a nice place to be. As my ego tried to make me feel bad about never getting a Ph.D. or becoming a college president, I was able to chuckle a bit to myself. In some ways, I feel like I dodged a bullet.

I’m not the same person I was way back then. This is particularly true when it comes to my faith, which has changed quite a bit. I’m still a person of faith, but I’m not tied to the church structure like I was then. My church denomination literally built some of its structure on the work grandpa did. My brother, while working differently in the same denomination than grandpa did, is doing his own work often trying desperately to make meaningful adjustments to some of the structure grandpa and his colleagues built. He’s working for change from within.

Me? 

Not even close. I don’t carry animosity towards the church like some who have deconstructed their faith. It would be ridiculous for me to ride the wave of privilege like I did growing up and then turn around and be angry for the way I was raised. There are a lot of ways I’m different, but I’ll not be turning my disappointment in what I’ve left behind into some sort of self-righteous anger. No, I’ll move forward with the lessons that work well in the world.

But being a part of church leadership, even as a college administrator? No thank you.

So, as I watched my brother’s commencement ceremony, I felt a sense of gratitude I’d never experienced before.

I was relieved.

You see, my brother was called. I’ve watched his career over the years. He’s good at his job. He’s worked hard. He’s making a difference in his community. His faith has changed a lot too, and he’s attempted to bring some of that change to the church. From that perspective, he’s far more courageous than I am.

As I wrap this up, you know, about 1000 words more than I intended when I began, I think it’s worth mentioning that I’m currently employed as an entry-level maintenance worker at a small college. 

You know…the plant side. It’s the very definition of coming full-circle. I’m ok with that, because two decades worth of career challenges and lessons have stripped me of any sort of feeling of entitlement for anything. There have, in fact, been times of career success as well, and I’ve learned success brings new challenges. Sometimes the new challenges force us to look deep within and make decisions about who or what we want to be. As I did this, I recognized a different pattern in my life. 

I’ve recognized missed clues as to what I really want to do; where I want to spend my time and effort.

In the midst of the whirlwind of emotion about diving into a career which was brand new for me, there was one thing in particular about which I already felt confident. One piece of the job description which I knew for certain was a tangible skill I possessed.

During the few short days when Clancy was taking me under his wing, during the days before his abrupt departure, he gave me a packet of training materials he’d developed. In the packet were vignettes. 

Stories.

“The first thing you have to know,” Clancy explained, “is the importance of stories. For it is with stories we tap into people’s emotions. It is stories which convince people of the importance of what we do. You need to work on your writing skills, and learn to tell stories in meaningful ways.”

So I do, Clancy.

So I do.

(I am currently on a vacation with my family and unsure about internet availability. I may miss next week’s post. If so, I’ll see you in two weeks!)