Each September, as the first cool notes of autumn enter the air, I am reminded of the joyous fact that those of us who work in higher education get to live by the rhythms of our childhoods. Every fall brings a fresh start—a new academic year, new students, new hopes and possibilities, new opportunities to grow. This annual restart is one of the great privileges of this work, and a fitting metaphor for our mission itself: we are in the business of continual renewal—of fostering the aliveness that comes from expansion, self-discovery, and becoming.

That truth comes vividly to life each fall when we welcome our incoming, undergraduate first-year business majors during “Countdown to Classes” and “Discover Opus.” Last year, as part of the “Countdown” program, held a week before school started, students created a word cloud in response to the prompt, “How are you feeling?” Their answers appeared in real time on the big screen: anxious, scared, lost, but also excited, jazzed, and optimistic. Within seconds, two words towered above all others: excited and nervous.

Looking out over that sea of faces—so composed on the outside, so churning with emotion inside—I was struck again by the privileged place we hold in their lives. They put themselves—their futures, along with their excitement and nervousness—into our hands for what they know is a critical milestone in their lives. How can we do anything less than meet them with hearts equally full? To be an educator is to join them in this moment of becoming, to remember our own moments of newness and growth, and to embrace that journey together.

A week and a half later, during a scavenger hunt where one clue was “find the dean,” I met dozens of these students again. Their energy was infectious: laughter, camaraderie, eyes bright and curious, students both confident and shy. When I asked what they were enjoying most so far, the answers poured out: “really interesting classes,” “meeting new people,” “how friendly everyone is,” “I’m starting to figure things out.” In their words and faces, I recognized that same edge of fear and excitement that marks every new beginning.

That exquisite combination of nerves and anticipation is the vibrancy of learning itself. It is what it means to be fully alive as a person, poised between what we are and what we might become. Working in higher education allows us to inhabit that threshold every day. The college becomes a space for constant renewal, where minds stretch and reshape, and where the joy of our work lies in our shared act of becoming.

Purpose, Challenge, and Growth

Joy is often mistaken for a pleasure that comes with ease or comfort, or conflated with happiness, which tends to rise and fall with circumstance. But the joy that sustains a vocation is rarely easy. It is formed, tested, and refined through challenge. It arises when we push against the edges of what we know and when we face uncertainty and grow because of it. It is at its deepest when it is connected to meaningful purpose. That is as true for institutions as it is for individuals.

As educators, we ask our students to embrace difficulty. We ask them to wrestle with ambiguity, to persevere through failure, to turn discomfort into curiosity in the service of learning. In doing this, we are asking them to cultivate the very conditions of joy: the expansion of self that comes from meaningful challenge. I see that spark of joy every time a student begins to gain confidence in the classroom, to take risks sharing their ideas at a venture competition, to experience their growing mastery. It is the joy of growth, of discovery, of possibility.

And it is not confined to the classroom. As a business school, we also live in a state of challenge and change. The world around us is shifting at a breathtaking pace—technology, markets, work, and society are all being reshaped before our eyes. To remain relevant, we must also continually grow. That can feel daunting, but it also sparks vitality. The ongoing reinvention of our programs, our pedagogy, and our purpose keeps us alive as an institution. It keeps us learning.

When I began as Dean three years ago, I wrote to the college that I was “more optimistic than I have ever been about the contribution business education can make to the common good.” That conviction remains my compass. Surely, every story of human flourishing, of societal progress, and cultural advancement is a story grounded in education. Our mission is evergreen: education, and particularly one grounded in the Catholic intellectual tradition, remains a critical force for advancing the common good in our world today, and ever and always into the future.
This mission calls us to help students, faculty, staff, and even our institution, to stretch into our fullest potential. That process is not simple or static. It is dynamic, creative, and often demanding. But it is a process shot through with joy: the joy of growth and contribution, the joy of participating in something larger than oneself.

The Joy of Institutional Becoming

As institutions, we mirror our students’ journeys. Just as they learn, experiment, and adapt, we too are called to renew our understanding of who we are and what we are becoming. Two years ago, our college began a deep process of strategic revisioning. As part of that work, teams of faculty and staff came together to confront several key challenges, including a fundamental reassessment of teaching excellence in a rapidly changing environment. The members of these teams interviewed students, alumni, and business leaders. They examined research, benchmarked peers, and grappled with hard questions about relevance and impact. Through that collective effort, we began to redefine what excellence in business education means for this era.

It was not easy work. It demanded courage, humility, and imagination. But the conversations themselves were alive. As we shaped what we are calling “The Opus Way,” a shared set of teaching and learning principles that reflect our commitments to teaching excellence, there was a sense of collective awakening, a clearer view of what we could be in a changing world. That is one of the quiet joys of change: witnessing a community discover its own creative power. Joy emerges when people take ownership of something meaningful, when they see that their contributions matter, and when they sense their work rippling outward toward purpose.

I often think of strategic leadership as a kind of reweaving: taking the strong threads of our legacy and intertwining them with new fibers that reflect a changing world. In many ways, fleshing out the Opus Way has been its own act of reweaving—drawing on what has always defined us while threading in new practices that make learning more human, more current, and more impactful. Every act of weaving involves tension: stretching and pulling, holding on and letting go, balancing continuity with innovation. But when done well, it creates something stronger and more beautiful than what came before. And the process itself—messy, creative, alive—is its own quiet form of joy.

Joy in the Face of Uncertainty

Higher education today stands at an inflection point. Demographics, technology, economics, and culture are reshaping our landscape. It would be easy to focus only on the challenges, and there are plenty— budget pressures, shifting enrollments, rising expectations. But I see, instead, a call to joy: an invitation to create, to experiment, to lead with hope and imagination.

In times like this, the joy of our mission becomes our engine. It reminds us that the heart of that mission is not stability but transformation. It reminds us that the continual unfolding of human potential means our own as well as our students’. It reminds us to double down on that mission to nurture learning, foster discovery, expand, and grow.

And this gives us the courage to reimagine what education can be and who we can be as educators. When we approach uncertainty this way, not as a threat but as a possibility rooted in mission, we can reanimate that joy, that aliveness, that optimism that always accompanies growth and expansion of the self. Joy becomes the driver and the outcome.

That same aliveness animates our students as they confront the unknowns of their futures. It animates our faculty as they explore new technologies, pedagogies, and forms of scholarship. And it animates our staff as they design ever more creative ways to support student learning and well-being. Each day, I see colleagues who embody this joy, who approach their work not as routine but as a living expression of care, curiosity, and purpose.

Cultivating Joy in Community

Joy, I have learned, is not just a private emotion. It flourishes in relationship. The joy of teaching, leading, or learning is inseparable from the communities in which it unfolds. In higher education, we are part of a living ecosystem of thinkers, doers, and dreamers. Our work is collaborative, and so is our joy.

This truth becomes particularly evident during times of strain. When workloads increase, when change feels relentless, when uncertainty tests our patience, joy can waver. Yet those are the moments when community becomes most essential. Supporting one another, celebrating small wins, sharing laughter even amid difficulty, these acts sustain our sense of purpose and rekindle joy.

I see this spirit every day at Opus. Our faculty and staff have weathered extraordinary change, yet they continue to meet it with resilience, humor, and a deep commitment to students and to one another. You can feel it in our monthly faculty and staff meetings and in the rituals we’ve built to stay connected. Each December, our Joy at Work event takes us off campus—one year to the Minneapolis Institute of Art, another to Open Book—where we use art and storytelling as ways to reflect on our work and on one another. At the end of the spring semester, we come together again to celebrate milestones and honor excellence and community contributions. These moments, large and small, remind me that joy is sustained not alone, but by the strength of the community that carries us through.

A Joyful Future

As we look ahead, I am mindful that our mission must continue to evolve. The world our graduates enter demands adaptability, creativity, and courage. Our own sustainability as an institution depends on the same qualities. If we are to secure our future as a vibrant, productive, and successful contributor to our community, we must continue to lead with innovation, efficiency, and a commitment to creating change rather than reacting to it. As we navigate this next chapter for Opus, our faculty and staff will need to continue solving immediate challenges while harvesting the opportunities that are also at hand.

That need—to create, to lead, to imagine— is itself a call to joy. The future will not be simple. But it will be alive with possibility. And that aliveness, that pulse of growth and becoming, is what drew me to this work and what sustains me still.

At its heart, joy at work is not a fleeting feeling. It is the steady recognition that we are participating in something larger than ourselves. We are part of the great unfolding of human potential. And to live and work in that space, to help others become more fully alive, is the deepest joy of all.