My work as Chair of a department of psychiatry has taught me three principles that seem to be fundamental to the role of academic leader. They include maintaining a balance in responding to the needs and input of faculty members, creating a safe place for learners to explore and grow, and helping both faculty members and trainees to find a career-sustaining passion.

The first principle is balance. Each of us can recall those rare and wonderful moments of enlightenment that punctuate our lives. One of mine came on a trip to Italy with my daughter and her Latin club. In Rome, we visited the remarkable Villa Borghese museum, which houses an impressive array of the sculpture work of Gian Lorenzo Bernini. Already drawn in by the swirling vortexes of motion that Bernini creates with each of his pieces, I found myself standing before his "Escape from Troy" (circa 1619). In this piece, he depicts Aeneas fleeing the battle (2). He is not alone in his journey. On his back, he carries Anchises, his aging father. Clinging to his legs is his son, Ascanius, yet a mere boy. At that moment, I recognized myself in Aeneas, and identified with his predicament. At home were parents negotiating the final journey of their lives, dependent on me, my wife, and other caregivers for safe passage, even as our children were holding on to us until their legs were strong enough to run alone. Our challenge was to weigh the needs of all of them in the balance and decide how much of ourselves to give to each one.

In later years, having moved into my role as Chair, I have drawn strength and guidance from the truth conveyed by Bernini in this piece. In countless ways, an academic leader is thrust into the role of seeking a balance between the influence of the wisdom of the past (older faculty members) and the idealism of the next generation (younger faculty members and trainees).

Anchises is holding the Penates (family household gods), which represent the knowledge and traditions that give our current experiences context and meaning. Ascanius clings with his free arm to the sacred fire of the hearth that is symbolic of the passion and energy of youth that spurs us on to change and renewal. How to honor and validate the contributions of senior faculty while encouraging and incorporating the ideas of the newest members of our field is surely one of our great challenges as academic leaders. Similarly, we are also called upon to humanely manage the integrity of the aging "Anchiseses" in our departments who may have lost a step or two, while, at the same time, minimizing the negative impacts of impetuous "Ascaniuses." No department can thrive without at least a modicum of new blood, but no department can afford to invest in every creative whim put forward by residents and junior faculty.

A second principle I have found to be important as an academic leader is establishing a culture of safety. Early in my career, during a faculty discussion of why a resident was struggling to learn, one of my earliest mentors, Walter Ricci, commented that one of the biggest obstacles to learning is the fear of humiliation (Ricci W: personal communication). His words stopped me in my tracks. If he was correct, then centuries of hallowed medical teaching tradition would be called into question. Not long after this moment of truth, another mentor, Jerry Kay, published an article in JAMA describing medicine's time-honored—and misguided—use of humiliation as a teaching tool (3). He confirmed Dr. Ricci's assertion that good teachers beget good students by creating a learning environment where it is safe to ask a question that might expose the student's ignorance. Even a subtle, if unintended, gesture of invalidation in response to a trainee's work could provoke sufficient shame to cause the trainee to hesitate to explore again. Although Dr. Ricci's career began two decades before mine, he was espousing an additional concept that is even now somewhat on the cutting edge. It is the notion that a student's failure to learn may have something to do with the teacher and the learning environment. It is not the student so much in need of transformation as the teacher and the classroom. Given these two concepts, it is incumbent on the academic leader to ensure that learning environments are safe places and, of course, to lead by example in this regard.

The third principle of importance to academic leaders that has become evident to me is finding a passion within one's own work while helping our faculty and students find a passion of their own. We are called upon to perform many tasks that are difficult and unpleasant. In response to the demands of the role, we often "burn the midnight oil" or, at least, often find ourselves turning out the lights as the last to leave at the end of a long day. One antidote to the fatigue and discouragement that can result from this work is the discovery and nurturing of a passion.

Such a passion, in my case, has been the humanities. Early in my career, I stumbled onto a short story by Ernest Hemingway titled Indian Camp (4). The story involves a medical event, and provides a context for discussing a variety of important topics. Examples include the issue of the appropriate degree of emotional distancing in the physician—patient relationship and the importance of attunement of a teacher to his student and a father to his son. I end the session with a recommendation to students that they find a work within the broad realm of the humanities, perhaps a work of art or a piece of music, which draws them in and can be used in their careers to teach some key principle to others. Few activities have given me more satisfaction in my career.

More recently, I have found a way to integrate my love of music into my career as a physician. In another serendipitous "stumble," I encountered an extraordinary teacher in the conservatory of music at our university. Finding ourselves to be kindred spirits, it did not take us long to imagine a course on medicine and music. Once the fire was lit (see Yeats, above), other kindred spirits seemed to fly toward the light—like bugs on a summer evening. Two pediatricians stepped forward to talk about their use of music to bring an element of calm to their terrified patients and their parents in the emergency setting. An infectious-disease specialist was willing to describe how he resorted to making a musical DVD to engage his HIV-infected patients and their caregivers in an educational experience that they would otherwise have preferred to decline. A psychiatrist in my department, hearing of the envisioned course, was eager to discuss how he learned to play the guitar 10 years ago as a way of restoring manual dexterity during recovery from a brain tumor. Faculty members in other schools in the university were drawn to the spreading fire. A historian was willing to present her research on hysteria as expressed through opera. Similarly, faculty members in the conservatory emerged—pleased to be a part of an exercise that celebrated their discipline's role in healing. They would discuss their use of music therapy with newborns as well as dementia patients in nursing homes.

We decided to end the course with a series of musical presentations by the students who were given the choice of performing a piece of music or playing a recorded piece. In either case, they were asked to discuss the personal meaning of the piece to them, as a way of explaining why they chose it. I believe the students who participated came to a new understanding and appreciation of their colleagues and, perhaps, themselves. What I am certain of is that the course has re-ignited my passion to teach.

To review, then, I have suggested three guiding principles that have emerged in my experience as salient to the role of academic leader. First, the academic leader is called upon to balance the assets and needs that are brought to the departmental table by faculty members, both old and new. Second, the academic leader must ensure that the department is a safe place to ask questions and explore new ideas, even when this risks exposing one's deficits. Without this protection, learning and growth will be stunted. Finally, effective academic leaders assist faculty members in finding a passion to energize their work, even as they, by example, draw on a passion of their own.

At the time of submission, the author reported no competing interests.