Last October, the women’s crew team joined Carlson and her regulars for their Thursday morning 5K. As Aundrea DeVuono-Young chatted with a student, they discovered they had both raced canoes on the Schuylkill River with the same club and coaches — 30 years apart. The next day, UD’s director of presidential operations brought her vintage Mean Green Canoe Team T-shirt to work. 

“What a small-world connection,” Carlson marveled. She wants to foster more of those, weaving the intangible fabric of community intentionally into her strategic plan. Under her leadership, it’s not enough to be a place where Blue Hens inquire, create, innovate, grow, welcome, educate, work, belong or stand. Instead, at UD, we inquire with impact, create with connections, innovate with intention, grow with purpose, welcome with promise, educate with outcomes, work with trust, belong with joy and stand with pride.

Those measures of success matter, particularly now, as universities navigate artificial intelligence, political polarization and a still-lingering pandemic. 

But Carlson’s approach is steady. Like a seasoned marathon runner who knows that the journey of 26.2 miles begins with a single step, she leads with skills gleaned on the course: preparation, consistency, purpose and an uncanny ability to listen. 

“Whether it’s listening to constituents or to your body,” she said, “you need to know when to push, when to pause, when to pivot.”  

Then, there’s her research expertise. “I’m a psychologist,” she said. “I know that we spend a lot of time worrying about things we can’t control. I like to translate that into scenario planning. What can we control — and how do we ensure our decisions are rooted in our values?” 

Those questions are at the heart of a proactive effort she launched last summer.

“We’re asking, ‘Who do we want to be?’” said José-Luis Riera, vice president for student life. As co-chairs of the Campus Culture and Engagement Initiative, he and English department chair John Ernest have convened focus groups with stakeholders to assess the abstract qualities of equity, inclusion and belonging. They’re looking to understand: How do we treat one another? Do our actions match our words? What do we value? Where do we invest?  

“The work is not to create a report that we refer to occasionally,” said Ernest. “It’s to feel community in the behavior, language and priorities of everyone across UD.”

For Carlson, it always comes back to people and education. Boston-bred, she spent Saturday mornings beside her three sisters, cleaning the home their father built. He put himself through night school while working in construction, taking 10 years to earn a degree from Northeastern. “It was important to my parents that we all got a college education,” said Carlson. “And we did.”

Carlson’s pedigree includes 28 years at the University of Notre Dame, where she held several leadership roles. As UD’s provost from 2022 to 2025, she increased access and affordability for students. Today, as president, she’s zeroed in on the question: How do we position ourselves for success 10 years from now?

It’s the kind of endurance Carlson knows well. Her first UD interview occurred the morning after running the Boston Marathon. “I was just happy to have my heels on,” she joked. This year will mark her 15th hometown race, three days after her presidential inauguration. “It feels fitting,” she said.

Others may call it inspiring. “She’s a role model for the values we want to reinforce,” said Terri Kelly, chair of the Board of Trustees, which unanimously voted for Carlson’s appointment last December.

Student Government Association President Katherine Slough,who served on the Presidential Appointment Advisory Committee, agrees. “I wanted a president with integrity,” she said. “That’s what we got.” 

Slough has seen it firsthand. In developing messages to the student community, Carlson convened student leaders into the president’s office, conversations typically reserved for senior advisers. Then, there’s her attention to the ground level. When lawn chairs went missing from The Green (a small saga of undergraduate mischief), she didn’t shrug; she understood that those chairs foster community and prioritized bringing them back. 

When Board members assembled for a formal photo, Carlson paused the shoot to ensure staff were included in the frame. At leadership retreats, she pairs substantive strategy with spirited rounds of the party game Poetry for Neanderthals (imagine tenured professors describing a volcano as “big hill, fire come out”). 

She understands that there’s nothing like humility to keep you human; connection to keep the pace. 

On a windy winter morning, the first Prez Run of 2026, Carlson noticed a student rubbing her ears. “Take my hat,” she said, removing the Blue and Gold cap from her head. The student demurred, but Carlson handed it over, smiled and insisted. “Keep it,” she said. “I want you to be warm.”