Grief is not something you can read about in a book and know what it really means. You can only really describe it once you've experienced it. Life will hit us with unexpected pain – and grief might look different each time.
Dr. Keith Curry
In my doctoral dissertation, I explored the metaphorical demise of (what was then called) Compton Community College through the revocation of its accreditation in 2006 and how that death destabilized our institution and our community.
Using Elisabeth Kübler-Ross's framework, I studied the stages of grief we collectively experienced, sometimes lingering in different areas of the spectrum longer than others. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and finally acceptance.
In recent weeks, three of our beloved Compton College employees have passed away, and it has been an incredibly emotional time on our campus. As a leader, one of my responsibilities is to keep the college community informed – even when the news isn't what people want to hear about. I shared the following in my weekly President/CEO Message last week:
Earlier this week, I shared the sad news of the passing of Jeniqua Janis, program technician in the CalWORKs Department. Last week, I was informed that Keith Porter, a former Compton Community College student, was killed by an off-duty Immigration and Customs Enforcement agent in Northridge, California. And today, I learned of the passing of our assistant football coach, Steve Ruedaflores. Experiencing so many losses in such a short time reminds us how quickly life can change and how important it is to value the moments we share.
In times like these, I find myself reflecting not only on the individuals we have lost but also on how we show up for each other. Our work is demanding, and the pressure we face can sometimes lead to conflict. Even so, we have a responsibility to approach those moments with civility and respect. Tomorrow is not promised, and as a campus community, we are united by a shared purpose: supporting our students and this community.
As I think about Jeniqua, I wish I had one more opportunity to thank her for her dedication to our CalWORKs students, especially during the federal shutdown when she went above and beyond to ensure they received services. I remember Keith stopping by my office to talk and share updates, and I regret not reaching out more often in recent years. I also think of Steve, who spent every day recruiting students for our football program. I recall seeing him at a game and thanking him for his commitment to our students, and I am grateful for his unwavering support.
We all carry memories of colleagues and students from Compton College, Compton Community College District, and the El Camino College Compton Center who are no longer with us. I will continue to cherish those memories and the lasting impact these individuals have had on our institution and our community.
This tremendous grief, although painful, has been a bit of a wake-up call: there will always be disagreements and conflict amongst us in higher education, but we all want the same thing: to support students and see them succeed, whatever their goals may be.
We must commit ourselves to taking care of each other every day – our work is difficult, and colleges are delicate ecosystems. We move together to move forward. We move forward to launch our students forward. We cannot allow ourselves to get bogged down by infighting or meaningless conflict.
I have been called many negative names for decisions I've made or the work I have done, but I get it: my job as a president/CEO isn't always to be liked. It is to be effective, and sometimes that means making decisions that may make others unhappy or uncomfortable.
But that's not what keeps me up at night.
What disturbs me is that divisiveness and polarization aren't the exception anymore – they're the norm. In this work, we must remember that, at the end of the day, we are all humans. We are all going home to loved ones, and I believe that most of us are doing our best on any given day. We cannot lose sight of this because when we do, we lose our humanity. At the institutional level, when we lose valuable faculty, staff, and senior administrators, the institution as a whole suffers.
Last fall, there were rumors on my campus that some individuals called me "Trump" because they disagreed with decisions I made. They wanted to criticize my leadership and label me as someone who doesn't support "equity." One colleague, whom I sometimes call for advice, told me, "Keith, they don't deserve you." My entire career has been in equity work, and it's interesting that educational leaders with proven track records still must prove their value and contributions to their organizations and systems over and over again (but that's another thought for another day).
It just made me think: we really are at a point in higher education when experienced leaders leave organizations because it just becomes too much (and even more so for people of color, exhausted by microaggressions and other, often unseen labor for marginalized groups).
When we lose experienced leaders, our institutions lose momentum. That transformation we've all been working toward – it may not happen. If I had left Compton College two years ago, would we still be building housing? Would we have successfully passed another $200 million bond in fall 2024? Would we have 160 million dollars of construction happening right now? Would Compton College continue to focus on student completion, our 2035 institutional set-goals, and be the leader in the country (until someone proves me wrong) in meeting student basic needs? Leadership matters at every level of an organization, and how you treat and support that leadership is critical.
When I think about Jeniqua, Keith, and Steve, I wonder: how long will we mourn them? Their various contributions to our college are still alive and well. Even as our college community mourns, we know we must continue to serve students – even though it's hard.
Tomorrow isn't promised. Regardless of what is happening nationally, we have to practice civility and model the values we believe in, and advocate for them on our campuses. After you are gone, how do you think people will remember you? Were you the person who always thanked everyone who worked hard on a project? Did you act with humility in your role? Do we want to be remembered for how we transformed our communities for the better, or were you just in it for the position title and the salary?
Leaders pursuing roles for selfish ambition are unlikely to succeed – in fact, they risk destroying their organizations and the communities they serve. The best leaders are those who approach their role with humility and are in it to serve their communities. I love Compton and Compton College, and I know my community needs me. I am committed to the Compton community because I want people who look like me to have more opportunities than I did and to know that you can be successful if you are from Compton, California.
I am hopeful this article reminds us that we are people first, with family and friends who love us. Every leader is going to make mistakes, and we have to allow grace for others as well.
At some point, you may ask how long will they mourn our institution, since it has not met the needs of the community and its students. Not too many people know what grief feels like when you have lost an institution, but many of my colleagues and I have, and many of us are still not at the acceptance stage of grief. It was 20 years ago when Compton Community College's accreditation was revoked.
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Dr. Keith Curry is the President/Chief Executive Officer of Compton College and Compton Community College District.
