This year’s letter is for anyone lucky enough to call themselves a chapter president, flirted with the idea, or aspire to hold a title one day in the future. If that is not you, I invite you to come on this journey anyways. Even if you haven’t or don’t want to climb to the highest leadership run on our organization’s ladder, I hope you can still see some of yourself in this essay.
For two years, I was privileged to be called to lead the Lambda Iota Chapter at the University of Central Oklahoma. Gladly and thankfully, I was not elected to a third term as president, though it was something I pursued. Of all the organizations, clubs, or departments I have led, the role of chapter president still ranks as one of the most stressful positions I have held. Yet, I still look back with fondness, because it taught me so much about myself, managing people, working with others, and how to respond in times of crisis. These are lessons that still show themselves. More importantly, the position taught me humility. I didn’t always get it right as a leader, and I failed more than I care to admit, but I learned to own those moments, learn from them, and attempt to be better in the future. Without a doubt, I am a better person because I was called upon to lead my brothers.
When I was elected to serve my chapter, Lambda Iota was still in its infancy as an organization. Two years before, we received our charter. Left to our own devices, our founding fathers began shaping our chapter. UCO’s Greek System was relatively small at the time, but I think it is safe to say that Pike was positioned as a middle of the road chapter, possessing some unique disadvantages. We were new and still an unknown product. We didn’t have a chapter house, strong on-campus leadership, or sophisticated systems in place to ensure our organization took advantage of every opportunity before us. We also saw ourselves pitted against another fraternity, who was the best chapter across their entire organization.
I began serving my chapter as the first non-founding father to assume the role. My mission was simple. We were going to emulate our competitor in every way. We would do this until we beat them at their own game. Wherever they were, we would be too. Whether it was athletics, on-campus leadership, student government, volunteer work, fundraising efforts, recruitment, campus-wide elections or attendance at on-campus events, we made it our mission to watch what they were doing and figure out a way to do it better. We figured we had to make our presence known. We knew we wouldn’t always win, but we would compete with all that we had.
In the beginning, we lost, and we lost a lot. We weren’t claiming trophies or titles. We weren’t the envy of anyone’s eye. We weren’t seen as a threat. As a leader, I used this to motivate my chapter. This is when we chose to get serious about recruitment. Our mission was simple. We were going to sign the most and best men. We would call more incoming freshman. We would host more events. We would knock on more dorm room doors. We would help more students move in. We would invite them to more events. We would be the first friendly face they met at UCO. We would recruit year-round, and we would not stop. Not everyone we signed would be initiated, but we were confident that we could sign more scholars, leaders, athletes, and gentlemen than anyone else. If we did this well, we were confident that wins would begin to mount in all those areas a chapter had to win to be considered great.
That first fall, we signed the second largest class on campus, second only to our competition. With that new class, we saw pieces of the puzzle beginning to come together. We checked more boxes and deepened our involvement. We also started to win. The tide was shifting, and we all felt it. It was contagious. Winning is contagious. By the time we arrived at my second fall recruitment as chapter president, we signed more men than any other chapter. When we finally heard numbers from others, including that chapter we were attempting to emulate, we knew our collective effort and dedication had paid off in countless ways.
Then, it became our duty to maintain our position on campus. There was a storm brewing that could have spelled disaster for us. It was also a sign that it was time for me to step aside. Our challenge began with a house we were renting and calling a chapter house. At first, it was a source of joy. It was a physical space to call our own. At the time, this was a new responsibility for the chapter and our leadership. Slowly, rents weren't paid on time by those living in the house. We had also developed a lax attitude about paying dues (me included). We were staring down the barrel of financial trouble. Stepping aside meant I needed to find new ways to lead. My chapter demanded and tested me for it. I was humbled, but happy to oblige.
From that storm and under the leadership of a new president, we emerged stronger than ever with all the tools to dominate every facet of campus life. For close to two decades, that was exactly what Pike did at UCO.
Personally, I emerged from this period in my life with a new definition of servant leadership. Those final months were tough. Accusations flew with ferocity, my name was dragged through the mud, and all that we accomplished took a backseat to the greatest challenge before us. But I survived, and so did the chapter.
I am telling you this story as a cautionary tale. Your chapter leadership experience will be different. A unique set of challenges will be waiting for you on your doorstep. You will be tested in unimaginable ways. But I am sure you will draw the same conclusions I did. Being the president of a fraternity is one of the hardest leadership positions I have ever held. For two years, I felt the constant threat of some action that might have meant forfeiture of our charter. I had to balance egos, varying viewpoints, demands of other houses, organizations, and the university. I found myself burdened with how we were perceived. I became consumed with the notion of being anything but a typical fraternity. I wanted our organization held in higher regard.
When we failed at our goals or lofty ideals, I took the sting personally. I often viewed those moments as a reflection of my leadership. I constantly questioned myself. Was I being too lax or too strict? Was I too ambitious? Was I failing to motivate others? Was I the leader my chapter needed? Was I the wrong guy for the job?
To do this day, twenty years later, I still find myself recycling opportunities where I failed and could have done better. Those moments when I did not meet my own stringent expectations are moments I still negotiate in my head. But I am also filled with intense pride for what we have built. Our legacy is everlasting. The Lambda Iota Chapter has experienced the cyclical effects of change that all organizations face. They have seen the mountaintop, and they have been humbled, but the tools for greatness remain. That is something for which I am immensely proud.
Now, I write this as a forty-year-old man. For almost twenty years, I have been a chapter advisor. I began my journey at Lambda Iota, but I have also advised the Beta Beta Chapter at the University of Washington (where I still serve) and an expansion chapter at Cal-State Northridge. I am still deeply entangled in the inner workings of our fraternity. But now, as then, I am so much more than a fraternity man. I am a partner, family member, and nonprofit employee deeply involved in his community through various clubs, boards, committees, and organizations. Every day, I find myself in service to someone or something bigger than myself.
This idea of service above self was born during my undergraduate days, when I assumed a role that would change my life forever. It is a guiding principle that dictates almost every decision I make. Those fraternity days also came with other lessons. In the last twenty years, I have learned to give myself some grace. I have learned to rally others. I have learned to ask for help and admit when I was wrong. I lead with a small heart on my sleeve, but a more profound vision guiding me along my way. Without my time as a chapter president, I doubt these lessons would have rung as true for me, but I must admit there would have been other opportunities to lead.
You don’t need the title of president to lead. In organizations and communities, both big and small, we have the power to lead meaningfully. We can lead in small conversations, little acts of services, or moments that go unwitnessed. For all organizations and communities to maintain a positive influence, these little moments are in much more demand than some grand speech from a podium by a leader in the front of the room. While I have relished any opportunity to be the person who leads from the front, I have also grown more confident following a path blazed by others.
I learned these lessons because of my fraternal service. It is hard for me to regret the moments of tribulation or moments when I could have been better. In the end, they shaped and molded me. With some reflection or quiet moments during your own leadership, I am sure you will feel the same way.
So, lead. Lead from wherever you are in your organization. And for those about to answer the call of presidential leadership, I implore you to relish the ride. There will be days when you and others are second guessing every decision you make, but if you bring the best version of yourself, the rest will take care of itself.
Be good to each other,
Nathan
