When I was appointed Dean of Libraries at Tulane University, I knew I was particularly fortunate. For those of us in the business of cultural memory, there’s truly no better place to be than New Orleans. And for someone like me—an unconventional library leader drawn to bold ideas and collaborative transformation—there are few institutions that could offer a home like Tulane. It’s been an absolute privilege and, often, a real delight. I’m deeply proud of the work we’ve done and excited for the incredible collaborations ahead.
That said, it hasn’t always been easy—or delightful.
There have been days that were very tough, and moments that felt deeply lonely. That’s not despite having excellent advisors, supporters, and colleagues. It’s because leadership is hard, even when you’re lucky.
Both the joys and the struggles of this first year are rooted in the same thing: the responsibility of setting a vision and the commitment to seeing it through. That work is both inspiring and exacting. And if a vision is to succeed, context matters.
At Tulane University Libraries, I’ve spent this year developing what I call the Kaleidoscope—a vision for how our collections, services, spaces, infrastructure, and people can align in vibrant, generative patterns to better serve our University and communities. But crafting a vision isn’t enough. I spent much of the year listening, convening, and inviting collaboration across campus and with local stakeholders. This was essential, and also, at times, surprisingly difficult.
The greatest challenge? Getting the input.
This isn’t a complaint; it’s a data point. And it’s led me to reflect on a deeper question: What holds people back from engaging in collaboration? Is it disinterest? Distrust? Decision fatigue? Something deeper?
I don’t have all the answers—yet. But I’m paying attention. Because understanding those barriers is as important as removing them. If we want the Libraries to be a truly generative space—alive with curiosity, collaboration, and impact—we have to meet people where they are, and sometimes where they aren’t yet ready to be.
So, one year in, I remain honored. Humbled. Energized. Still asking questions. Still ready to try things. Still listening—especially when it’s hard.
Let’s keep building—together.