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I found Student Affairs Assessment Leaders (SAAL) in 2014, almost by accident, after attending what was then the NASPA Assessment and Persistence Conference in San Antonio, now the NASPA Conferences on Student Success in Higher Education Conference. It was already an unforgettable trip, the San Antonio Spurs had just defeated the Miami Heat, and there was a massive river parade floating by behind the hotel. But the real spark from that conference wasn’t the fireworks or the championship energy; it was something much quieter and far more personal.
I kept noticing name badges with titles like Director of Student Affairs Assessment. At the time, I was a Program Planning Manager, a title that didn’t even begin to capture the reality of my work. I was the person who did everything from assessment, research, grantwriting, event planning, curriculum design, survey administration, student mentoring, teaching summer bridge courses, MC-ing large conferences, and somehow raising three kids under twelve while being a wife. It was chaos, passion, exhaustion, and love all rolled into one job.
So when I saw “Director,” something clicked. I remember thinking: Wait… this is a thing? This is a real role? A profession?
I went back to my hotel room and typed “student affairs assessment director” into Google, back when you actually had to click through search results, no AI Overviews existed. And there it was, at the very top: Student Affairs Assessment Leaders (SAAL).
I still laugh about it, because I was truly mesmerized, Toy Story alien-style awe at “The Claw” mesmerized. If I were butter on a sizzling cast-iron pan, I would’ve melted right into the skillet. I signed up for the listserv immediately. I lurked. I learned. And eventually, I found my voice.
My first question to the SAAL community was about social network mapping and impact reporting. And to my amazement, people responded. Joe Levy wrote back. Tim Bono connected with me. Strangers, leaders in our field, took time for someone they didn’t know but believed in. That early support shaped my entire trajectory.
I took what I learned back to my VP, who not only listened but acted. Within six months, I became the inaugural Director of Student Affairs Assessment at the University of New Mexico. One year after that, I moved to the University of Oregon as Director of Student Life Assessment & Research, where I’ve now served for over nine years. And through all those transitions, SAAL was my professional home base.
I volunteered for the Professional Development Committee, eventually chaired it, and helped lead SAAL’s 2020 strategic planning process. That work culminated in our new 2022 strategic plan, one that shifted SAAL toward sustainability, clarity of purpose, and greater community care.
In 2023, I was nominated for President by Joe Levy and Vince Nix, some of the same people who responded to my listserv questions nearly a decade earlier.
And that brings me to the heart of this reflection: I was not the first SAAL leader, but I was the first to take the reins under an entirely new governance structure. The first President responsible for implementing a system we had only imagined on paper. Grateful to Heather Strine-Patterson, Ciji Heiser, and all the board members who contributed to documenting this process. I was the first to steward SAAL through its transition into an official nonprofit, supported by an amazing board who placed their trust in me: Ellissa Brooks Nelson, Daniel Kaczmarek, Jordan Bullington-Miller, Eunkyoung Park, Megan Bell, Heather Strine-Patterson and, of course, Joe Levy.The first to rebuild structures for long-term sustainability, fiscal, accountability, and equity.
Leading SAAL in this era has been one of the most meaningful and challenging professional roles of my life. I carry deep pride knowing that we built something stronger than what we inherited, systems that will last, frameworks that honor volunteer labor, and governance that reflects the evolving needs of our profession and field at large.
When I think back to that woman in San Antonio who didn’t yet know a “Director of Assessment” was a real career path, I realize how transformational SAAL has been, not just for me, but for hundreds of assessment leaders who find community through this organization.
And now, as the first President under our new governance structure, my goal has been simple…leave SAAL better, stronger, and more sustainable for whoever comes next.
Caption: Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay
During my tenure as President, SAAL continued to grow even through the most volatile era higher education has seen in decades. We had a lot of accomplishments:
SAAL Organizational Impact
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Increased membership by several hundred new professionals, expanding SAAL’s national and international reach.
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Successfully transitioned SAAL into an official 501(c)(3) nonprofit, establishing financial, legal, and governance structures for long-term sustainability.
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Implemented a fully new governance system, clarifying roles, improving decision-making, and reducing burnout across volunteer leadership.
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Strengthened professional development pathways, including content design, committee operations, and cross-organizational partnerships.
National-Level Field Impact
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Co-founded the Consortium of Organizations for Student Affairs Assessment (COSAA), aligning assessment leaders across associations for the first time in the field’s history.
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Supported the national Syllabi Project, analyzing graduate preparation programs to understand assessment training gaps and opportunities.
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Helped COSAA conduct a four-year longitudinal analysis of SAAL listserv content, identifying trends in professional needs, emerging topics, and systemic challenges.
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Became an official partner with The Assessment Institute, elevating SAAL as a central voice in national student affairs assessment development.
Personal Leadership Impact
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Elevated SAAL’s national profile by modeling transparent, relational, and human-centered leadership through influencing scholarship and practitioner work through writing, presentations, and collaborations.
Caption: Photo by Sam Pineda: https://www.pexels.com/photo/monochrome-photo-of-woman-3104175/
But behind the scenes, the last year almost broke me.
I have always considered myself resilient. As a first-generation, low-income Native New Mexican student who grew up navigating hardship, I learned early how to adapt, survive, and rise. But nothing prepares you for the kind of loss that rearranges your entire life.
First, I lost my assistant director tragically, my right hand, my colleague, the person who helped me run our office day to day. The shock of losing him was still fresh when, two months later, I lost the love of my life to West Nile Virus. For five weeks I lived in the ICU, sleeping in chairs, pacing hallways, watching him fight. And through all of that, I still tried to keep my office afloat. I still showed up for SAAL. I still carried responsibilities that felt impossible to set down.
Grief is not normalized in our culture. We talk about productivity, grit, and professionalism, but not about what it means to mourn the past, the present, and the future all at once. Losing a partner dismantles everything, you lose the life you had, the life you imagined, and a version of yourself that will never return. It felt like living inside an episode of The Twilight Zone with no exit.
Grief fog is real. I still remember receiving a call, yes, a real phone call from the IRS about our SAAL nonprofit application. They only communicate by phone or fax, and they only give you a few days to respond. I was in the ICU, exhausted beyond comprehension, and I didn’t get the requested item in time. Our application was temporarily removed from the queue. I felt like I had failed SAAL during one of the hardest moments of my life.
But I didn’t give up.
Even when everything in my personal world had collapsed, SAAL became a reason to keep moving. It gave me a purpose when I was surrounded by rubble. I rose to the occasion, resubmitted everything, reacquired our place in the queue, and pushed the process forward, despite grief, despite chaos, despite being in pure survival mode. I think I deserve an honorary law degree!
And after 18 months of paperwork, calls, and faxes, we finally received our nonprofit designation!
Looking back, I honestly don’t know how I survived that period. Grief puts you on autopilot, and yet during that time I also moved states, finalized my relocation after years of living in two places, navigated my dog surviving a coyote attack, helped open a public charter elementary school in New Mexico, oh and broke my jaw. I can admit this now, I am jealous of the version of myself before I became SAAL President because she had no idea what life was about to demand of her.
But here’s the truth, I am proud. Proud of the work we accomplished. Proud of the sustainability our new governance system created. Proud that we scaled our work intentionally so members could stabilize during national upheaval. Proud that the next era of SAAL now has the breathing room to stretch, grow, and reimagine.
Because of the foundation we built together, SAAL is now ready for the next wave of ideas from book clubs, thematic professional development packages, blog case studies from institutions doing meaningful assessment work, deeper partnerships, and more structured volunteer opportunities that honor capacity and sustain community.
People keep asking what my next role will be, how I’ll give back, where I’ll serve, how I’ll continue contributing to the field. For now, I’m focusing on my writing projects with Shaun Boren on human-centered assessment, and with Ellissa Brooks-Nelson, Will Miller, and colleagues on space-themed approaches to understanding student affairs systems through an assessment lens.
Mostly, though, I am finally in a place where I am choosing to “put on my own oxygen mask first.” For years, I thought prioritizing myself was selfish. Now I understand it’s a form of survival, recovery, and honoring what my mind, body, and spirit need.
As I pass the reins to the next generation of SAAL leadership, I feel grounded and hopeful. Our governance is strong. Our identity is clear. Our future is expansive.
And for the first time in a long time, I feel ready to breathe again.
Honoring What Comes Next
Caption: Photo by Robert So: https://www.pexels.com/photo/warm-glow-of-prayer-candles-in-church-35091473/
Grief changed my life. Governance changed our organization. And somehow, in the middle of both, I found purpose.
Now, as I step back to breathe, heal, and rebuild the parts of my life still finding their way forward, I’m choosing to believe that we are exactly where we need to be. SAAL is stable. SAAL is stronger. SAAL is ready.
And so here is my invitation, my call to action, to all of you:
Step in. Be brave. Volunteer when you can. Support one another fiercely. Bring your voice, your story, your lived experience to this work.
SAAL’s next era will be shaped by the people who lean in with curiosity. Our field needs your leadership now more than ever.
And as for me, I’ll be cheering you on, from a place of rest, reflection, and renewal, grateful for this community that helped carry me through the most difficult season of my life. The future is bright, and SAAL’s story is just beginning its next chapter.
~Renée Delgado-Riley, Ph.D.
This blog post was written by Renée Delgado-Riley, Director of Assessment and Research, Division of Student Affairs, University of Oregon.