Five Years In The Chair: Practical Lessons From Leading IT In Higher Ed

August 2025 marked five years for me as CIO at the University of Montana. That’s long enough to have inherited things I didn’t ask for, tried things that didn’t work, and built things I’m proud of. It’s also long enough to realize how little of this job is about technology and how much of it is about people, trust, and timing.

I stepped into the role in the middle of a global pandemic. IT staff were burned out from months of emergency remote work. We had lost key employees to retirement and to more flexible jobs. We were supporting a university in flux, with declining enrollment and severe budget pressure.

There wasn’t a strategic plan. Intake was ad hoc. Morale was low. Our best people were stretched thin.

It didn’t happen overnight, but we’ve rebuilt belief and that’s what carries everything else.

Here are a few lessons I’ve learned the hard way and a few I’ve come to believe deeply.

1. Trust Is the Real Architecture

You can modernize platforms, secure endpoints, and document roadmaps, but none of it moves if you don’t have trust. Trust with leadership, with staff, with campus partners. In higher ed, where influence often trumps authority, credibility is the fuel.

You earn it by listening first, communicating clearly, and doing exactly what you said you would do. Then you do that again. And again.

During my first year, I proposed an operational shift that seemed like a straightforward improvement, but it landed poorly. I had failed to engage key users early. After regrouping, I brought in their perspectives and adjusted the rollout plan. It taught me that credibility isn’t just about technical accuracy. It’s about weaving people’s voices into the outcome so they can see themselves in the result.

2. Most of the Work Is Invisible

Good infrastructure doesn’t show off; it just works. But that can create a dangerous silence because if leadership doesn’t understand what isn’t breaking (and why), they might assume it’s easy. Or worse, unnecessary.

I’ve learned to communicate stability as an achievement, not a default. Quiet systems are built by loud planning.

When we began moving Banner to the cloud, it required an extraordinary amount of behind-the-scenes coordination, planning, and problem-solving. From the outside, the transition might have looked smooth or even routine. But internally, it was one of the most intricate and foundational shifts we’ve taken on.

That’s the paradox: When complex projects are executed well, they often disappear from view.

3. Crisis Reveals Everything

Staff loss, cyberattacks, outages, data exposure, these defining moments test your communication, your preparation, and your culture.

The goal isn’t to avoid every crisis; it’s to meet them with clarity, calm, and coordination. When the pressure rises, people don’t rise to the occasion but instead fall to the level of their preparation. So prepare well.

We conducted a cybersecurity tabletop exercise with campus leadership that exposed a critical blind spot in our communication tree. We addressed this quickly, and I’m grateful we found it in simulation and not in a real event.

That’s why tabletop exercises aren’t optional. They’re insurance against chaos.

4. The Role Doesn’t Evolve Unless You Do

Your first-year instincts will not carry you through year five. This job demands reinvention. You have to be simultaneously strategic and operational. Confident and curious. Protective and adaptive.

I had to unlearn some habits that made me successful in earlier roles. The higher you go, the more your presence shapes reality. That requires intention.

There were moments when I thought I had to have the answers.

That pressure to always know, decide, and direct felt like the weight of leadership. But over time, I learned that my real responsibility is to create the space where the best answers can emerge. That often means elevating voices closer to the work, listening without rushing to respond, and trusting the intelligence of the team.

That shift in mindset didn’t just change how I lead; it changed what leadership means to me.

5. Success Is Shared, or It Isn’t Real

The most meaningful accomplishments I’ve been part of were built in collaboration with others: grants co-authored with faculty, strategic plans shaped by cross-functional teams, AI initiatives that blended academic and technical expertise. None of them succeeded because of a single department.

If you want real, sustained change, you have to build coalitions. That means involving the right people early, creating room for shared ownership, and trusting the process, even when it slows you down.

One example: A recent AI strategy project brought together academic leaders, student support services, and technologists. It could’ve been led from a single office, but by co-creating the framework with diverse voices, we built something more sustainable, more relevant, and far more supported across campus.

Next Steps

Over these five years I’ve had wins and missteps. I underestimated how much change fatigue was sitting just below the surface. A decade of enrollment decline, budget contraction, and staff departures had created burnout we didn’t always name but felt constantly. 

I also waited too long to build a clear intake and prioritization system and to clearly communicate IT’s strategic priorities across campus.

Without that clarity, urgency became the loudest voice in the room.

When projects popped up that didn’t align with our goals, I struggled to say no.

Especially in a culture that values partnership and responsiveness, I often defaulted to “yes and,” a mindset rooted in collaboration but one that, without boundaries, can exhaust your team. That created strain we’re still working through today.

The good news is campus partners now have visibility into our roadmap and understand the why behind our priorities.

Eventually, I stepped back and asked the team to help redesign how we work: our processes, intake, expectations, and boundaries. That shift helped us find traction. I just wish I had made space for it sooner.

The next five years will look nothing like the last five. But I carry forward sharper instincts, a stronger team, and a clearer sense of how to lead through complexity. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that good CIOs manage complexity, and great CIOs make clarity contagious. Clarity isn’t just about simplification; it’s about helping others see what matters, why it matters, and how we move forward together.

If you’re stepping into this role now, know this: It will stretch you more than you expect.

It’s demanding, often invisible, and sometimes thankless. But done with purpose, it’s also one of the most meaningful and rewarding roles in higher education.