One college's retreat from big-time sports

Birmingham-Southern College moved from Division I athletics to Division III to put more emphasis on academics.

Page 2 of 3

Page 1 | 2 | Page 3

For his part, Pollick admits he's not around a lot. He'd like to be with students more, but his days are spent doing what he says is a college president's main job: catering to alumni like the ones gathered here today and convincing them to part with large chunks of money.

Without a doubt, the impeccably dressed president is an effective salesman – and forthright. At this year's alumni event, he's continuing something he started last year – an official "mythbusting" session to separate fact from fiction. He insists rumors that he doesn't live on campus are unfounded. "This is where my underwear is, and that's where a guy lives, I'll tell you," he says to some laughter.

Likewise, he's heard scuttlebutt about his marriage, and he's out to refute that today as well. Yes, his second wife, Karen, is younger. Yes, they're practically newlyweds. Yes, her demanding career as a concert musician and conductor keeps her on the road a lot. "We're not the Ozzie and Harriet couple," he says.

***

Pollick's trajectory hasn't been straight. His parents divorced early, and he was raised by his mother in a working-class neighborhood of San Diego. Contemplative as a youth, he loathed high school but reveled in the culture of the University of San Diego (USD). He spent long hours in coffeehouses talking about philosophy and life, often skipping class. He was happy, but there was a problem: He was flunking freshman year.

He quickly decided to follow in his father's footsteps and join the Navy, serving in the Pacific during the Vietnam War. When he returned to the civilian world, everything had taken on a sense of urgency. "I had a real need for things to be significant and relevant," Pollick says. "I was trying to make sense out of a world that had no trouble swallowing itself up in war."

His search led him back to USD, where he finished his degree in philosophy, then to a Franciscan seminary. Eventually, he fled to the desert, teaching emotionally disturbed children. He studied in Canada and Poland and held administrative and academic positions – including acting president and provost at the State University of New York at Cortland – before landing as president at Lebanon Valley College in Annville, Pa. "I've been very deliberate in building my career," he says.

But after eight years at Lebanon, he wanted a high-quality liberal arts college that would allow his wife to nurture her career while feeding his own sense of mission. Birmingham, with its rich civil rights heritage, seemed like the place. "The name evoked a power that few words did," Pollick says. "I thought, this is a place I can go learn – the epicenter for the kinds of things I care about."

1 | Page 2 | 3 | Next Page

Get Monitor stories by e-mail:
(Your e-mail address will be protected by csmonitor.com's tough privacy policy.)
(Mary Knox Merrill/Staff)
EDITOR'S PICK Five cities that will rise in the New Economy
From Seattle to Huntsville, Ala., five cities are poised to prosper in the New Economy because of exports, innovation, clean technology, and healthcare.

In Pictures:
Get ready for gridlock
POLITICS Patchwork Nation
The American voter beyond red and blue

Daily podcast

Monitor Reports

Discussions with Monitor reporters from around the world


Today

Peter Grier

The Monitor's Peter Grier talks with reporter Ron Scherer about how Black Friday will effect the economy this year.




Making a difference
Making a Difference

What happens when ordinary people decide to pay it forward? Extraordinary change. See how individuals are making a difference, finding solutions, overcoming adversity, and giving back globally.

Richard Berry stands in a former Sunday School classroom in the basement of Trinity Evangelical Free Church. The room has been turned into a men's homeless shelter.

Sarah Beth Glicksteen

A church that is home to the homeless

Pastor Richard Berry lives the motto 'faith without works is dead'