Leading in a Pandemic: Lessons Learned

Friday, March 13, 2020 was the day I last remember feeling normal.  Along with our youngest son, my wife and I were returning home from a college visit in North Dakota.  Winter was still with us in the Midwest, but hope for less snow and more warmth was in the air.  And then the COVID-19 dominoes began to fall, one after the other: extend spring break by one week, spring intercollegiate athletics cancelled, move spring semester to on-line instruction, make a plan, make a new plan, scrap the old and the new plan and make another plan.  As it relates to your own lives, most of you know of that which I am writing.

Admittedly, it has been difficult for me to “think” during this time.  It’s not so much that I don’t have something to think about but that there are many other priorities, virtually all of them COVID-related.  Nevertheless, I have learned a few very important lessons during these intervening 7 months.  I will share them with you, and hope that you will respond with your own insights.

Simple is often best.

Good hygiene, that is, hand washing with both frequency and vigilance is probably the most important, least expensive, and easiest preemptive any of us can practice.

In other words, your parents had it right!

Live each day.

Prior to March 13, 2020, I’ve struggled with getting the most out of each day.  I learned about the gift of each day in Sunday School.  I tried to practice absorbing each day in theological seminary, and through daily spiritual disciplines.  I instructed my children about getting the most out of every day, and living each day to the fullest.  I’ve tried to take to heart the “smell the roses” advice that I’ve received from mentors over the years.  And I am only now improving—taking my own advice—because of this pandemic.

Thank you, COVID-19.

Virtues:  Adaptability, Patience and Forgiveness.

Everyone is on edge—everyone.  I have witnessed, experienced and, regrettably, probably done, said, or thought things about other people, other countries, and other situations that are; well, inappropriate.

Adaptability is a life necessity.

Patience is a virtue.

And forgiveness—when given or received—is healthy for both the giver and receiver.

Thank you, COVID-19.

Humans require authentic relationships.

I don’t like social media.  I realize that this statement is ironic, given that I am writing a blog.  Thankfully, I have a colleague who manages my social media accounts.  I don’t know my passwords, let alone how to access most of the platforms.  I realize that I am antiquated.  I still like to read books; most of my family reads from Kindle.  I love watching the History Channel; our culture seems to be fixated on Zombies.  There is little that is more enjoyable to me than sitting down with friends and colleagues—and just talking.  Sharing stories about family.  Reminiscing about former colleagues or students.  Enjoying an athletic event, performance, and art show—together.  I love authentic relationships, and these relationships have become somewhat conspicuous by their absence.

I purposefully came to my office every day from March 13 until the beginning of our new semester.  Going to my office was a necessity—and a personal act of defiance.  I still recall seeing another human getting their picture taken in front of our large “University of Dubuque” entrance sign in early June.  I was so excited, that I actually ran them down to say “hello.” After a “hello,” I reached out to shake their hand, only to realize that I was violating social distancing norms by doing so.  Thankfully, though surprised, they were exceedingly gracious!

COVID-19: thank you for reminding me that I really do love people.

People are every organizations most important asset.

When I started at UD twenty-five years ago, our endowment—the lifeblood of a University—was about $13 million; today it is approaching $200 million. In twenty-five years, we have built over 37 new buildings, and completed 7 different renovation projects.  In 1998, we had about 600 undergraduate students; today there are over 2200.  All of these achievements are wonderful, and something for which each one of us at UD is immensely grateful.  But, as wonderful as these accomplishments are, the most important asset we have is our people.  Not the endowment.  Not the buildings.  Not our programs.

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Photo Credit: Noah Bullock

I absolutely love our people!  I am grateful for their commitment to our Mission.  I am grateful for their commitment to our students.  I am grateful for their commitment to keep these buildings and grounds in Dubuque, Cedar Rapids, Tempe, Arizona and Meridian, Idaho “standing tall.”  But, hands down, my proudest moment was when our faculty and staff communicated to our Dean that, despite what colleagues were doing at many colleges and universities across the country, they believed that we, at UD, had a moral responsibility to be in the classroom, cafeteria, health center, or athletic complex with our students.  You heard me correctly—a moral responsibility to be physically present for our students.

We don’t talk much about moral commitments in our society today.  Perhaps we should.

A moral commitment requires staking out a position in an expanding amoral culture. Asserting commitments, particularly moral commitments, makes some people uneasy.  But in this instance, it was virtuous because it was focused on the other; our students.  That is, there is a fundamental understanding by those in our classroom that their vocations call them to teach and learn, face-to-face, with our students from over 40 states and 25 countries.  Incarnational formation—that’s what we do.

Thank you, COVID-19.

The pandemic will end, but our lives will not be normal again if what we mean by that term is something that resembles pre-March 13, 2020.

Thank you, COVID-19.