Hundreds of alumnae had gathered on the sidewalks of William Peace University, shouting and waving signs with messages like "It's not the guys; it's the lies." Months earlier, during the summer of 2011, the North Carolina private institution made the decision not only to switch from female to coed but to change its name from Peace College to William Peace University, after the man who donated money to help start it.
Protests occurred regularly as past students objected to the upheaval at their alma mater. Media descended on the campus. Alumnae annual giving dropped below 3 percent. Peace, in other words, was anything but peaceful.
Though logo and mascot changes had happened several times throughout William Peace's 154-year existence, the decision to admit men and change the institution's name stirred alumnae wrath at a "vortex" level, says Julie Ricciardi, vice president for the Office of Engagement at William Peace.
The university had historically ranked low in the percentage of alumnae who gave. Even so, there was a huge falloff. "When you get below 3 percent, they're sending a message," Ricciardi says. "It doesn't mean you can't recover, though."
It's a dilemma many colleges and universities face: needing to change to stay relevant but also holding on to tradition. How far can you go before alienating your base and completely altering your identity?
At West Virginia State University, a historically black college, demographics have changed so much that the majority of the student body is now white. A recent trend has emerged among community colleges like Michigan's Henry Ford College to remove the word "community" from their name, but critics say that these institutions may be losing sight of their original mission and the people they were founded to serve.
Some colleges reposition themselves to demonstrate a newfound focus, as when Chicago's Gordon Tech College Prep became DePaul College Prep to emphasize a budding partnership with DePaul University. In Japan, Kinki University has announced plans to change its comical-sounding name as it seeks to raise its international profile and appeal to more English-speaking students overseas.
Whatever the intention behind a change, straying too far from the identity former students grew fond of can alienate and anger your biggest fans. Ricciardi likens it to a college student coming home to discover her bedroom has been changed into a sewing room.
"We're human. We want to come home and have our bedroom look the same way. We don't want mom to paint the room or move it around," she says. "This is understandable. But the problem is that the minute you leave an institution, it changes."
Making ‘peace' with disillusioned alumnae
Helping alumnae get comfortable with this new bedroom took an organized communications effort at William Peace. Once the board of trustees made its final decision to go coed and change the institution's name, the Office of Engagement reached out to alumnae so they heard the news from the university—not just from third-party sources. The office, which oversees alumni relations and development, did this through a combination of social media, email, and letters. Ricciardi's staff and the alumni board made personal phone calls to alumnae, who expressed a "gamut of emotions" that resembled a grieving process, Ricciardi says.
"We all react differently. I think there were tears and sadness for some [about going coed] because what they had was gone," she says. "For others, their reaction turned into rage. Then there were people who wondered why we hadn't done this sooner. We even had graduates from the 1940s who wrote in their wills, ‘I hope by the time you read this, the school has gone coed.'"
The institution amped up its outreach, going from one newsletter each year to six. If a building on campus was being painted, "we wanted them to know about it," Ricciardi says. They also invited concerned alumnae to campus to see the changes. Some wanted to visit, Ricciardi says, but they didn't want to engage in long debates about William Peace's transformation. So the university lured alumnae with low-pressure social events like the Children's Holiday Story Hour with Santa, a family-style Christmas celebration with refreshments, photos, and presents. The event brought back 77 former students who had not returned to campus since the changes. A wine tasting brought back 13 more alumnae who had disengaged. Other social gatherings have attracted 60 to 70 attendees in the past year and a half, including a concert series with the North Carolina Symphony.
"The bigger message we wanted to send is ‘Your experience does not change. No one can take that away. You can still be mad and not like this, but come to campus,'" Ricciardi says. "It was not the time [for the university] to retreat."
The alumni board members also helped calm and re-engage angry graduates by calling many of their former classmates. They held monthly conference calls to report back on the re-engagement process.
William Peace also implemented a student ambassador program so that visiting alumnae could learn more about the changes. The ambassadors are trained on university history to understand more fully why alumnae may be upset about the adjustments.
The efforts are working. Several different metrics—from contributions to the alumni magazine to event attendance numbers—show that alumnae are reconnecting with the university and accepting the coed status and new name.
"This fall, the energy on campus has been great," Ricciardi says. "People are showing up for activities. The auditorium is nearly filled, and attendance at games is at an all-time high. Once it was a sisterhood, and now it's a family."
Despite the controversy—or perhaps because of it—the university has raised its visibility and reached people who hadn't heard of it.
"There's an energy now that wasn't here when I arrived [seven years ago]," she says. "There's an awareness of who we are."
When mergers are messy
Just like at William Peace, Georgia Regents University's name change was part of something much bigger.
In 2012, Georgia Health Sciences University and Augusta State University merged, and the Board of Regents wanted a fresh name for the institution. The rigorous process included focus groups, a branding team, informational blog posts, and a public comment period. Name choices were whittled down in phases, and thousands of possibilities were considered.
Finally, the regents chose a name—but not the one the public voted to select. In response, alumni and students led large-scale protests on campus.
Much of the outrage came from the way the process was handled, says Susan Barcus, senior vice president for advancement at Georgia Regents. The key lesson for Barcus: Don't ask for public input if it won't affect the final decision. Ignoring that input sent the message—a false one—that the public's voice didn't matter. Barcus' department has since focused not on the debate but on moving forward. A 12-city listening tour with the university's president has helped to re-engage alumni. "I think it demonstrated that we did care what people had to say," Barcus says. "People told us it was not a change they asked for. But I think because we were honest about it, that helped."
The alumni magazine was also redesigned and rebranded. Instead of a general interest publication, the new focus highlights alumni accomplishments across Georgia Regents' nine academic colleges, attempting to build bridges between alumni from different academic areas and interests.
Barcus' team has put more effort and dollars into events with a sense of tradition, like the Jaguar Jaunt, an annual 5K race looping through campus that's been held for more than 15 years. Homecoming became a February event centered on athletics and school spirit, and a revitalized alumni weekend in April includes celebrity guest speakers, class reunion dinners, and an awards brunch. Above all, Barcus says, the key is to incorporate alumni feedback into programming so graduates feel included.
"We have exceptional alumni. We've tried to focus on them," she says. "I think one of the lessons learned is if you're respectful and take the time to listen, they appreciate it. ... We want them to see their old organization in the new organization."
Did we graduate from this school?
Rather than yelling, crying, or protesting when Williamsport Area Community College changed its name to the Pennsylvania College of Technology, alumni's overwhelming sentiment was confusion.
This could be because the institution has had three different names over the years. Williamsport Technical Institute, founded in 1941, changed to Williamsport Area Community College in 1965, and in the late 1980s the college adopted its current name.
In some cases, graduates from decades ago "don't even realize they're still considered our alumni," says Tammy Rich, Penn College's director of alumni relations.
Rich learned of this confusion one month into the job when she was speaking to a gathering of architecture graduates. An alumnus expressed his confusion about the name and where that left him and his peers. "I thought, ‘If I'm hearing this already, this has to be more widespread,'" Rich says.
An alumni engagement survey showed that more than half of alumni polled identified more with their academic program or major than their class year or institution name. Since the survey, the college has worked to re-engage alumni and show that they still belong in the Penn College community.
The timing of the institution's centennial provided a perfect avenue for engagement. The theme of "Then … Now … Forever Proud" linked Penn College's past with where it's headed. Visually, Rich's office aligned new and old as a way of saying "you're still considered." This year's homecoming brochure, for example, featured two shots of the same building: one in black and white from the 1960s, the other from 2014.
Alumni felt that the campus lacked physical reminders of past identities, so the university added signage with the institution's former names. The bookstore has full displays with clothing and other merchandise showcasing past names to signal to alumni that their college has not been forgotten. Rich's office also holds separate reunions for schools and programs within Penn College and conducts separate mailings and programming for alumni from different name periods.
Just as at William Peace, alumni who have reacted favorably to the identity change have been incredibly helpful, Rich says. They've volunteered to reach out to their fellow classmates and invite them to events to keep them involved.
Rich's experiences have taught her just how attached alumni can get to their alma mater's identity. "When you change any aspect of it, whether it's the colors, or the mascot, or the name, they don't feel connected. They think, ‘Those are not my school colors, and that's not the name on my diploma.'"
Yet it's inevitable that universities change to remain relevant and successful. If they don't, Ricciardi says, they're doing a disservice not only to current faculty and students but also to those with diplomas.
"If we're truly a lifelong learning institution, we have to respect the past but also think about ‘Here are things we want to make it even better.' Anyone's goal is to go to a respected school," says Ricciardi, and they want that school to continue to receive honor and accolades. Sometimes that means change.