"There's Always Room at the Table": A Conversation with La Sierra University's First Black President Dr. Christon Arthur

"There's a place for you." This is the mantra Dr. Arthur has carried with himself throughout his journey. It's also the phrase he echoes to the approximately 1,600 students who make up the small but vibrant community at La Sierra University. He shared this with me during a recent Zoom interview. As the institution's first Black president, Arthur, who spent the past three decades of his illustrious career as an educational leader, is looking to widen the school's access and visibility of his students. "I want to expand La Sierra to make it accessible to everyone and then provide the resources to meet their needs to equip them for success," he said with a wide grin.

He is only the sixth president since the university was formally established in 1980. However, Arthur knows a thing or two about coming in sixth place — he's the last of six siblings, after all. But it's also what highlights his distinctiveness. Arthur became the first in his family to pursue higher education and earn a postgraduate degree. As a first-generation native of Grenada, a small Eastern Caribbean island, his accomplishments became the blueprint of what his siblings, including his mother, who was denied going to school for being a woman, had long dreamed of.

After migrating to the U.S. in 1998, Arthur clung to his philosophy of service, ultimately leading him down a path of unknown possibilities. From teaching high school academics to a modest classroom of 30 students, to overseeing nearly 9,000 students while working in administration at Tennessee State University, and most recently at Andrews University (La Sierra's sister college in Southwest Michigan), Arthur has, as he calls it, "rewritten the script."

Below is our interview, where we discuss the way his mother's moral values influenced his leadership discipline, his thoughts on diversity and inclusion, and what he hopes students gain from their La Sierra experience. 

This conversation has been edited for clarity and length.

Raincross Gazette:  I am pleased to speak with you today. Aside from our mostly admired weather, tell me, what drove your decision to transition from the Midwest to California. Did La Sierra seem like the next logical step in your journey? Were you simply in need of change?

Dr. Christon Arthur: So a little bit of history. I started leading in higher education 25 years ago, at Tennessee State [University]. That beginning laid the foundation for everything afterward. I make a claim, and I'll stick to it, that one probably hasn't come to the full realization of the impact of education unless they serve and honor some minority-serving institution because that's when the impact really could be felt. It's almost palpable, where you take students from sometimes very humble beginnings, and then you see them blossom, you see them rise, you see them bloom.

I'm from the islands, and I'm used to warm sunshine and beautiful weather, 24 hours a day, every day of the year, so that was a draw. But more than that, it had to do with the work that's happening here, the students whom we serve, the community that we try to build, and to really add to the work of impacting the lives of students, [and] making a difference. The truth is, it's not where you start; it's where you finish — where your life takes you. We simply want to infuse these things into the lives of students to become everything they are meant and created to be.

La Sierra is recognized as an established Seventh-Day Adventist institution, the same denomination as Andrews University in Michigan, of where you held your last post. You've also acknowledged God for being a driving factor that led to this moment. At what point in your career did faith begin to influence your decision to become a higher education leader?

That started a long time ago, maybe as far back as when I was still on the island. I grew up in a Catholic household, and I was Catholic, [which] really shaped who I am today. My mom was a very staunch Catholic. That early beginning sort of shaped my personhood; it shaped my leadership.

I'll give you a short story. If you're from the islands, you know that it's one day a week that you have a sumptuous meal — Sunday after mass. Monday through Saturday, find what you can. Sunday? You better come to the table, because it's a big family tradition. Sunday after mass, my mom and my sisters would take care of stuff in the kitchen. I didn't help much, but my mom ensured that I didn't lose that sense of service. She would always call me when the meal was ready and say, 'Before you can have your meal, prepare a plate. Place that plate at the table for a stranger.' I rebelled. But my mom made sure I understood the lesson. One day, she said to me, 'Listen, don't you ever call me to tell me how important the table you're sitting at is.' What, why? She kept talking. 'You can only call me if you can then say to me, who else is at the table because of you.'

My mom poured into me what today is my value of leadership: There's always room at the table. Invite others to the table, but when they come, make sure you have the resources and the capacity … to validate one's human dignity, not simply to provide access, but to provide success.

I'd be remiss if I didn't mention that you are the first Black individual to assume this role in the university's roughly 102-year history. First of all, congratulations. Walk me through your reaction when you learned of the unanimous decision made by the university Board of Trustees. What did you make of this revelation?

Surprise. Shock. It's not that I didn't know I had the capacity to lead, but we tend to provide leadership opportunities for individuals who've experienced the place academically, more than just a visitor. I never experienced La Sierra academically. So, I say to students when I try to motivate them, 'Being the first person of color who is president, I defy the script. That's not how the script should have been written.' [I'm] an island boy from a small Caribbean island. But it speaks to La Sierra's openness.

My follow-up point is to ensure that this unusual script continues to be written. This is not the end of the script. There are other firsts, and I can better ensure that those who come behind are also part of that unusual script, so that they can also be first in this place.

To that point, in the Wall Street Journal's annual ranking of the top U.S. colleges and universities, La Sierra clinched first place in 'Diversity' back in 2022 and has done so years prior. With that, what specific initiatives will you develop and/or support to promote inclusion, and how do you hope to help expand diversity and representation at the university for the future?

Higher education is having a bit of an internal dialog as to what to do with this concept of diversity, inclusion, and equity.They've now become lightning rods because people see them as, maybe, threatening of what was. At La Sierra, when we speak of equity, we simply mean that we want to provide what's needed when it's needed. And what's needed would notlook the same for everyone; it would be unique, maybe individualized, contextualized. That's the approach we'll take to any person from Southern California, any person from the western region, any person from within the United States.

Inclusion and belonging is so important. Every person has to feel that they're part of this community. It's not enough to have a seat. You also need to have a voice. It's not enough to consume. You have to feel that you're contributing. It's not enough to mingle. You have to feel that your mingling adds value. So, it is this sense of community where we all contribute — where we add value together. You're part of a bigger whole. There's something that's bigger than yourself. Hopefully, that's us, and you want to be a part of this community because, you know, 'I can add value to others.'

I said to the first-year students at orientation, 'You own this place. This place is yours. You own every sidewalk, you own every building, you own the culture. And that ownership gives you a responsibility.' To me, that is the joy of inclusion and development.

In your first appearance to the campus you said, "I'm looking forward to the years ahead," and that you were "delighted for the opportunity to work for, and to see where God will lead us into the future." Three months into the position, what commitments and plans for the school are you prioritizing?

I'm phrasing our enrollment initiative this way because the enrollment that we will drive and strive for is that we have something that is phenomenal, something that is so transformative, something that adds so much value to students. So, [in terms of] civic engagement, the city of Riverside should be better because we're here. I want it to be evident that, 'Oh my, their presence is enriching the city.' I want that to be said every time someone sees a La Sierra student or thinks about La Sierra. That enrichment should have legs and arms, running through the streets and enriching the rest of the neighborhood. I want a university that's constantly growing, adapting, and retooling — that we are always relevant. We're relevant to the community where we live. We're relevant to the community where we sow.

Aside from what data or demographics may reveal, what do you say, then, that sets the La Sierra community apart from other nationally-ranked, faith-based universities here in Southern California, i.e. as Biola, Azusa Pacific, or even California Baptist University of the same city in Riverside?

I won't speak for the culture of other places, but part of our commitment to equity, inclusion, and belonging is to say thatSeventh-Day Adventist students and students from the community might be of the LGBTQ community and would find there's a seat at the table where the values that we expose define the relationships. It's still a touchy topic for many Christian communities … but I'm not scared; I'm not hesitant. I have full confidence in our value system; the values that we expose will inform the table, and because of that, everyone is welcome.

You initially earned a Bachelor of Arts in Theology from the University of the Southern Caribbean in Trinidad and Tobago. How did being a first-generation native of Grenada influence your professional roadmap? What does it reveal to you about the future of ethnic demographics and the growing number of first-generation immigrant students across U.S. colleges and universities?

I'm the baby of the family, the first to go to college, and I saw what it meant for my family, because after I went to college, and they supported me, I also graduated. My sisters, who are much older than I am, then went to college. I'm the first to have a graduate degree. The point I'm making here is that the first has to be a champion for others. If you just remain the first, and nothing happens, it's a waste — you just blew your opportunity. The first also has to be … the first-way maker for others, the first to open doors for others, the first to say to others, 'This is what's possible.' I say to my students, 'Don't simply hold yourself to what the script says it should be. Rewrite the script.' That first is what drives me to make it possible for others as well.

You've been an educator roughly 35 years across your career, however some people may not be aware of your background where you spent 10 years as an elementary and secondary school teacher. How did this experience, as well as that from teaching at the collegiate level, prepare you for working with, and supporting the needs of, the students and young adults you now represent?

That's a great question. I started my elementary career, it was like fourth grade, back on the island of Grenada in October of 1983, or something like that. And by February of the following year, so a matter of five months, I said, 'This is not for me. I can't do little kids. Give me the big ones that talk back and have a conversation, right?' This is how it makes sense to me, and I'm not just trying to be modest. Probably the only thing I know how to do is to teach … and being in administration now, I have simply changed the classroom; my classroom grew. At La Sierra University, my classroom here is almost 1,600 students. The same techniques and pedagogy that I have for the classroom are the same ones I need to have for the university.

The content is no longer social studies or geography. The content is different. The content is budget. The content is a vision for the university. You begin with what's known. You create dissonance. You provide content to bring that dissonance back into alignment with what you want to get accomplished, and then you do some assessments to see how well it's done. That's teaching. And guess what? That's leading.

I learned that you also taught at Tennessee State University, the only state-funded HBCU in that state. How does that experience differ from, as well as what benefit does it provide, to where you are now?

Tennessee State University started, as do most HBCUs, as an agricultural and mechanical college. Over time, it grew to become a university. When I left there, we had just over 9,000 students. [HBCUs] were a response to a denial. It was a response to a lack of access. It's a response to the philosophy that 'You do not belong.' At TSU, it was never lost on us as faculty that our role there is to, first and foremost, address the social and the emotional.

Education is not simply an intellectual enterprise. Education is not simply about academics. If the entry for education is not the heart, we simply become abusive. Students must experience this place of safety. Ninety-nine percent of the students who show up in our spaces need emotional work and emotional safety. They have to know that it's intellectually safe, emotionally safe, and socially safe. I wouldn't have grasped the importance of that had I not gone to TSU and started my career there.

Looking ahead five or even ten years down the line, what are you hoping the university will have accomplished under your leadership

That it will not be me telling the story, but our freshman students being able to tell this story and tell it better than I did. To say, 'Let me tell you what happened to me. Let me tell you about the transformation that I have experienced.' I want this to be the story, but told especially by our first-year students. That's what I would want. When we move from verbalizing to experiencing, we move from saying to doing. Where students can be and where their being is not threatened.

Do you have any closing thoughts?

In case you're thinking, "When I drive by [La Sierra], there's a gate." Well, the gate is not to keep you out. The gate is an entry, a point of access. We are still an open campus. We're open to our community. We're open to our neighbors. We're open to anyone who wants to come by and enjoy the beauty of our campus.