Meet the academic power couple ‘marrying’ St. John’s and St. Ben’s

ST. JOSEPH, MINN. – No, that wasn’t the college president wearing athletic shorts and orange toenail polish last Monday in his home office.

Seated at Brian Bruess’ personal desk, in the president’s residence at the College of St. Benedict, was, in fact, Scout Swanstrom, cramming for upcoming finals. The first-year student took a selfie and, noting her esteemed digs, sent a Snap to a friend: “She was like, ‘Are you in trouble?’ ”

Far from it. Swanstrom was one of 100-some students that Bruess (rhymes with “peace”) and his wife, Carol, were hosting for a day-long study session. With graduation approaching on Sunday, laptops and biology diagrams covered the couple’s dining-room table. And students were hunkered down across the home’s public spaces — unless they were visiting the vast, student-approved (“it’s bougie”) snack-and-drink array.

The women of St. Ben’s were joined by men from St. John’s University, a few miles down the road. The sibling Catholic schools were separate institutions, each with its own president, offering a joint curriculum to a combined 3,000 or so students when Brian arrived in 2022 to oversee the two entities.

This sort of integration — merging administrative leadership while maintaining the unique culture of each campus — is unusual in higher education. But these are unusual times, as many schools face financial and enrollment challenges in the wake of the COVID pandemic.

Atypical times perhaps call for a president who breaks the mold, as Brian did welcoming Bennies and Johnnies to study day with the help of his therapy dog, George, who was named through a student contest. During last summer’s Olympics, Brian busted the stereotype of the bland, buttoned-up administrator — and nearly busted his pants — by leaping into the splits for a social-media video. Last February, he and his wife co-led a three-day marriage retreat at St. John’s Abbey.

Carol, a former professor of family relationships and communication, complements her husband’s job with a role focused on community-building. She’s carved out a volunteer position that might be described as part scholar-in-residence, part favorite aunt or camp counselor. That means Carol has facilitated workshops and traveled with study-abroad groups. But she’s also opened her home to host not just the expected new-student socials and senior sendoffs, but sewing workshops, game nights and Galentine’s Day parties.

After Brian was hired, some folks from the community said that what sold them on him was — in fact — her.

“We’re choosing to be in these communities in a way that we think are authentically us, but also what St. Ben’s and St. John’s needs,” Brian said.

Brian grew up in southwest Wisconsin, a multi-sport athlete whose parents worked at the local high school. His earliest jobs were wrapping limburger at a cheese factory and tending pigs on a farm.

Brian met Carol, who also grew up in rural Wisconsin, during orientation at St. Norbert College, outside Green Bay. (They both took Psych 100; Carol got the better grade.)

The two attended graduate school in Ohio and then landed jobs in the Twin Cities. Brian spent two decades in administrative roles at St. Catherine University in St. Paul. Carol taught at Hamline University and, later, the University of St. Thomas, where she directed the family studies program.

Carol’s research on interpersonal relationships has garnered headlines in national media (“Couples who use pet names have happier marriages”) and she’s also written several books, including “What Happy Couples Do.” Brian bears the mantle of self-described “human communication guinea pig” with good humor and likes to joke that he’s earned extra credit being married to a marriage researcher.

The couple say their mutual interest in engaging other people is a quality they appreciate in one another, and what helped draw them together nearly four decades ago.

Carol on Brian: “To him, it doesn’t matter if you’re mowing the lawn or cleaning buildings, or if you’re another college president, everyone is valuable.”

Brian on Carol: “There’s nobody more attentive to the interpersonal experience of everybody she encounters.”

In 2017, Brian became president of the couple’s alma mater, St. Norbert, and Carol served as a resident scholar. The experience solidified the couple’s belief that a successful undergraduate experience is founded on establishing meaningful relationships and a sense of belonging.

“I think students want to know their leaders, and want to know their story, and want to be able to trust them,” Brian said. “When they experience people that are authentically interested in them, whether it be a faculty member, or staff member, or other peers, that creates a space that’s really welcoming. It creates a vibrant, sort of unmatched potential for student learning. And it’s also just a heck of a lot more fun.”

Senior Martha Dougherty wanted to attend study day because of what friends had said about the president’s home, which Carol has decorated with repurposed billiard balls, vintage nut choppers and thrifted globes. “They were always talking about how cool the furniture is, and the food’s always good, the dog’s super nice,” Dougherty said. The day’s casual, friendly vibe struck her as “very St. John’s and St. Ben’s core.”

A group of Bennies studying for science finals described their expectation of a higher-ed president (“intimidating,” “you never see them”) and said Brian defied that convention, especially with Carol by his side.

Little is known about the roles of spouses and partners of college and university presidents, despite their potential impact on an institution, said Karen Kaler, who co-authored a study on the subject and also has firsthand experience as the wife of Eric Kaler, a former University of Minnesota president who now has the same role at Case Western Reserve University in Ohio.

Kaler said Carol’s high involvement, and her frequent hosting of informal student gatherings, is uncommon among her peers. (It should be noted that, to avoid a conflict of interest, any hypothetical critique of Carol would bypass Brian and go to the schools’ board chair.)

Kaler said that a spouse or partner’s visibility and engagement helps soften a president’s image and reduce anxiety among those writing tuition checks. “The parents feel more comfortable because they see that you’re not just a statue up there,” she said.

And she noted how much students appreciate attention from someone associated with the school’s highest ranks. “If it’s the president’s partner who says ‘You did a wonderful job,’ it means a lot more to them,” she said. “You have the ability, just by who you are, to make a student’s day.”

One of the study-day students, Claire Linn, said she met Brian her first week on campus at a volleyball game and he gave her Carol’s phone number in case she ever wanted to walk George. Now Linn is part of the “George Love” group chat for volunteer dog-walkers, which Carol mostly floods with cute pup pics.

Around lunchtime, Scout Swanstrom packed up her backpack in Brian’s office and headed for the student shoes piled in the entryway. Though she recognized that each enrolled student was a dollar sign, she said that Brian and Carol’s concern for students, reflected by study day, was genuine. “It really reinforced the idea that we are a giant community, and everyone’s always looking out for everyone else.”