Â鶹´«Ă˝Ół»­

A version of this piece originally appeared in the 2025 Â鶹´«Ă˝Ół»­ Newsletter. View other featured stories

In 2024, Eric Blankenburg stepped in to the role of Academic Dean at Â鶹´«Ă˝Ół»­nical College. He’d previously served as an English instructor at the college. Here he shares his thoughts on the move from the classroom to serving as a college administrator. 

Mid-morning in my office, outside rungs of clouds signal the first snow of winter with a luminous glow that floats through the cracks in the shade, a contrast to the fluorescent light buzzing overhead. I’m about to call someone to offer a tenure-track position when my phone rings, a student concerned about an instructor. Then my email dings, and then dings again, and … a rapping on my door, a faculty member popping by with a problem. A committee meeting in five minutes requires my presence, but that’s the day of a dean. A fire here, a fire there. 

Before committing to a career in higher education, I fought wildland fires throughout the Northwest. Thrilling headlines, 300-foot columns of flame and 16-hour days, hot-lines, chainsaws, burnouts, helicopter rides to work and the power of being at the center had called me into those mountains. It was a suitable fit for a hard-headed, unemployed English grad. But I learned the hard way about mortality, a Sikorsky gear failure, explosive wreckage and so much young life lost, yet more so, I learned it’s not a matter of if but when and questions about “Why me?” or “Why not me?” were irrelevant. I dove into the search for meaning, which I found in books, stories and learning, but the magic of a classroom drew me into college teaching. Give me hours on the beauty of a comma or the incongruous enchantment of McCarthy, Faulkner or Joyce.  

Now, snow falls outside — almost 5 pm — and I’m finally back in my office with a call to make. I hit nine and one, and because it’s a long-distance number, I dial one again. It rings. I hang up ... 

Last year, as I transitioned to administration many asked, “How’s it going?” 

Two things are buried in this question: one, an explanation for leaving tenure to cliff-jump into the abyss of administration, and the second, an affirmation. I don’t have any answers to the first question, at least not any that overcome the illogicality of my choice. The second question, though, arises from the jewel of academia — that if we don’t like how things are going, we can make changes, so if I can do it, they can too. Democracy and higher education require participation, and that’s as good an answer to the first question that I can discover. 

The Anoka Police Department calls back. Moments later, the head of security calls as well and, again, I apologize profusely. A fire here, a fire there. 

Still, I have a happy call to make, one that comes infrequently as a dean, so I shut off the lights and let the twilight glow. I dial again. The phone rings ... After the fire comes new seedlings, trees that will soon tower.