With a few weeks remaining in her last semester at Syracuse University, Nancy Cantor’s nine-year rapid of policy-making has settled into a quiet backwater. She stares absently through the large glass windows of her office that faces Crouse College. In her opinion, it’s one of the best views on campus.

Then with just three words, she captures her approach to transforming higher education, her method to leading SU and her secret to living a gratified life.

“Bird by bird.”

At 61, Cantor — SU’s first female chancellor — has held a sui generis tenure. No chancellor has advocated for women and minority rights as passionately. No SU leader single-handedly transformed the city of Syracuse, pouring money into its development with the finesse of a mayor. And no chancellor gave SU as strong of a national presence.

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She’s spent most of her chancellorship in additive mode: increasing undergraduate enrollment by about 22 percent, expanding interdisciplinary programs and figuring out how to widen SU’s gates to a more ethnically, socioeconomically and geographically diverse student body.

At the same time, she’s been a figure of controversy, a leader criticized for what some faculty describe as an authoritarian rule. She pulled SU out of the American Association of Universities, and saw a slip in the university’s national ranking.

Cantor, who will leave Syracuse mid-December to become ­­chancellor of Rutgers University’s Newark campus, reflects on her tenure without regret.

“I don’t mean this at all to sound in any way arrogant, but it’s not about wishing that things could’ve gone differently. You look back, and things were tough.”

Above all, she does things quickly and efficiently. “Bird by Bird.” That’s the title of Cantor’s “all-time bible” and Anne Lamott’s book of instructions on life. In it, Lamott describes her frustrated brother working on a bird report as a child, immobilized by the swarm of information in his bird book. Lamott’s father tells him, “Just take it bird by bird.”

The birds have earned Cantor her nickname: Nancy with the Velocity Pace, as a handful of faculty and administrators call her. If you want to get some sleep, they say, don’t work for her.

Whether things were going very well or very badly around her — whether she was succeeding at her billion-dollar fundraising campaign or dealing with the sexual abuse allegations against former assistant men’s basketball coach Bernie Fine — she did what she could.

She took it bird by bird.

File Photo

During the volatile 1960s, Nancy Cantor danced. She had taken ballet classes since age five. As a girl growing up in the Upper West Side of Manhattan, her dream of becoming a New York City ballerina wasn’t far fetched.

Cantor remembers her high school days at the Ethical Culture Fieldston School for the 45-minute subway rides each day — daily exposure to the diversity with which the city throbbed. She remembers her school nights or the family dinners she had with her father Aaron, a lawyer, and her mother Marjorie, a gerontologist. As a socially active family, they’d discuss the major events of the time: the crucible of the civil rights, women’s rights and peace movements.

In 1970, as she entered her freshman year at Sarah Lawrence College, Cantor’s back gave out, and with it her shot at becoming a dancer. But it wasn’t long before Cantor discovered a new, overwhelming passion: social psychology.

As she entered her professional life, she began to advocate for both women’s rights and minority inclusion, spurred by the social movements of her childhood. Conversations in which Cantor chatted excitedly about diversity in education are what charmed her husband Steven Brechin. They met on a blind date in Michigan while Cantor was on a sabbatical from teaching at Princeton University.

“To be honest, I was incredibly nervous about going on the date, as I told Dale, my office mate, ‘What am I going to have in common with a tenured faculty member from Princeton?’” he said.

They were married 10 months later.

Before coming to SU, Cantor’s career was marked by two nationally recognized decisions in which she championed diversity and inclusivity. As a former provost at the University of Michigan, she played a heavy role in helping to prepare Michigan defend affirmative action in the landmark U.S. Supreme Court cases Grutter v. Bollinger and Gratz v. Bollinger. As chancellor of the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, Cantor vocally opposed the use of Chief Illiniwek as the school’s mascot.

So it was no surprise when she made the decision to have representatives of Onondaga Nation and Haudenosaunee Confederacy play a large role in her 2004 inauguration as SU chancellor. Some faculty felt she made a powerful statement when she was anointed by not just previous Chancellor Kenneth “Buzz” Shaw, but also by Oren Lyons, an Onondaga chief.

For Cantor, she wasn’t responsible for just the university, but also for honoring the natives of the university’s land.

Eric Mower of Eric Mower and Associates caught on to Cantor’s bird-by-bird momentum. At Cantor’s farewell party in mid-November, Mower stood on the stage of Goldstein Auditorium and began to sing to her.

Her students who love to be with her,

And who travel the Connective Corridor,

Make the Warehouse their favorite place,

Thank Nancy, with the Velocity Pace.

Cantor’s accomplished much in the last nine years. Most notable is Scholarship in Action, the big-picture campaign synonymous with her tenure. It involved Cantor investing tens of millions of dollars into the urban renewal of Syracuse and its residents to demonstrate the potential of a town-gown relationship.

With her many successful initiatives — among them the Connective Corridor, reconstruction of The Warehouse, the Near West Side Initiative and Syracuse Say Yes to Education — Cantor is responsible for breathing life into the dying city.

Proponents of Scholarship in Action agree the campaign has eliminated the perceived elitism and gating off campus, which might have created hostility toward residents.

“Many faculty had turned their backs on the city, viewed it as an embarrassment,” said Brechin. “I ran into numerous faculty who had not been downtown in literally decades. Those few that eventually ventured there were surprised by how vibrant it had become.”

In 2005, Cantor proposed the $42.5 million Connective Corridor project, a plan to build a three-mile-long walking path and create a shuttle bus circuit from SU to downtown Syracuse.

The corridor aims to encourage travel between the two areas through public transportation, artwork and community involvement. Its first phase ended last fall when University Avenue became a two-way street with a bike path, and street improvements were made from campus to East Genesee Street. It’s the city’s largest public works project in more than 30 years.

“I see hundreds of students who’ve become engaged in projects downtown. When they turn a former crack house into a neighborhood art center, that’s going to go with them wherever they go,” said Marilyn Higgins, vice president of community engagement and economic development, referring to the remodeled art center 601 Tully. “And we’ve seen more SU students stay in Syracuse because of that.”

Last month, the Board of Trustees dedicated The Warehouse — an old, windowless furniture warehouse Cantor transformed into an academic building for students in the College of Visual and Performing Arts — to Cantor, renaming it the “Nancy Cantor Warehouse.” Its effect on the surrounding Armory Square and Near Westside neighborhoods included more than $70 million in new development.

Cantor also played a strong role in the establishment of Syracuse Say Yes, a program that provides services to children in the Syracuse City School District to help them prepare for college and offers free tuition to city high school graduates. Last year, 51 SU freshmen were Syracuse city graduates.

Despite the city’s blooming success, many faculty members wonder whether Cantor’s velocity was too focused on SU’s presence off-campus, rather than what most faculty agree should be a university’s main focus: academics.

Some attribute the downtown focus as the reason for SU’s drop in U.S. News & World Report rankings. In the mid-1990s, before Cantor’s 2004 arrival, SU consistently ranked in the 40s. Now it is ranked as No. 62.

“She snuffed the rankings off by saying they’re going obsolete, but they’re not going obsolete,” said Joel Kaplan, an associate dean at the S.I. Newhouse School of Public Communications. “That’s what people are going to look at when they’re looking to go to college. I hate the notion that we could lose quality students because of that.”

Other professors find Scholarship in Action’s implication on research frustrating. Former political science chair Jeff Stonecash said professors’ research naturally contributed to the outside community by creating new ideas and findings. But Cantor, he said, presumed professors were producing knowledge with no concern for the external world, and changed the tenure rules to take into account a professor’s involvement downtown.

Stonecash, for example, published research on the voting patterns of the working class as an attempt to contribute to the public dialogue of what drives American politics.

“My bet is that had no relevance, because I wasn’t going downtown and doing something,” he said.

Cantor’s near-decade tenure is stained with controversial behaviors and hasty bird-by-bird decisions: her stifling of criticism and open dialogue; her decision to shut down HillTV, CitrusTV’s precursor; her withdrawal of SU from the Association of American Universities; and her efforts to increase undergraduate enrollment by more than 20 percent.

Warm and effusive in public, icy or hot-tempered in private. It’s the pattern several faculty members use to describe Cantor’s behavior toward those who’ve ever been critical of her. Some faculty members have reported what they perceive to be a policy of retaliation, while others fear crossing her from hearing others’ stories. Her flattening of dissent has led to a sense of resignation among many who want to raise questions during University Senate meetings.

The day it was announced Nancy Cantor was appointed Chancellor of Syracuse, former dean of the College of Arts and Sciences Sam Gorovitz recalled that the phones started ringing from Illinois. One call reported to him was from someone who said, “Be very, very careful not to cross her, because if you do, she will not forget it. And she will get you one way or another, however long it takes.”

He recalls an instance when a senior staff member from another college approached him in a parking lot following a University Senate meeting during which Gorovitz questioned some of Cantor’s decisions. The woman, frightened, looked around and said to him, “I just have to thank you for the courage you are showing in saying what needs to be said in the Senate. And I know that if my boss sees me talking to you, I will be in real trouble.”

Pat Cihon, an associate professor in the Martin J. Whitman School of Management and president of SU’s chapter of the AAU Professors, recalls an instance in a senate meeting when a faculty member brought up how the university should be aware of the consequences of Cantor’s initiatives to increase undergraduate diversity.

“You could literally see Nancy turn red and have a real physical reaction, and she and her supporters start accusing this guy of being anti-diversity and elitist, and that’s not the case at all,” he said.

Shortly before the end of Cantor’s first term, senate bylaws mandated that a committee, which Cihon sat on, evaluate her term. Cihon said Cantor didn’t like the idea of being reviewed and didn’t understand why it needed to be done, which he believes is an indication of her “imperial” style. Upon reviewing surveys for the evaluation, Cihon said that even the Board of Trustees, whose responses were for the most part positive, gave her a poor rating for “accepting constructive criticism.”

Chandra Mohanty argues that critics view Cantor’s outbursts in a gendered light. Mohanty, a professor of women and gender studies, said there are few women in high leadership positions at universities, and so when these women act boldly and courageously to carry out their visions, they’re subjected to criticism.

“So while men are expected to be ‘authoritative’ decision-makers, women are seen as ‘overbearing’ when they make the same decisions,” she said.

Cantor’s authoritarian behavior seeped into her controversial 2005 decision to relegate student speech by shutting down HillTV when the station’s sketch comedy show “Over the Hill” aired several offensive and racist jokes, including ones poking fun at Cantor. The sketches were met with outcry from students and faculty. Cantor rejected the free speech arguments of Newhouse professors and made the quick decision to shut down the station.

“I would certainly look back and say HillTV was a really tough time,” Cantor said. “On the other hand, I feel really good about what came out of it. Look at the Newhouse II studios being built. And CitrusTV has been thriving and doing really well.”

“They were hard, hard conversations,” she added.

Another controversy of Cantor’s tenure is the university’s 2011 exit from the AAU, a group of the nation’s top research institutions, once the AAU put the university under review. SU had been a member since 1966 and, when it was clear SU wouldn’t meet the association’s revised membership criteria and research standards, Cantor decided they would voluntarily leave. It’s a move multiple faculty members call “disastrous.”

A final issue of controversy for the Cantor administration has been the university’s cautious decision to increase enrollment. Since 2004, enrollment has gone up by 22 percent — from 10,920 students to 13,905 students in 2012, according to statistics provided by Don Saleh, vice president for enrollment management. Several professors report the decision was made by administration suddenly and with limited conversation with faculty.

It’s a concern for philosophy professor Robert Van Gulick, who has taught at the university since the mid-1980s. He noted how Cantor began increasing the number of undergraduate students immediately following Chancellor Shaw’s deliberate downsizing. He said the ever-increasing class size has made student engagement more difficult.

“There was no public discussion about it. Do we have the resources? How will we deal with class size?” he asked. “I care about Syracuse University. The chancellor cares about Syracuse University. But we just embarked on it, we just did it.”

As Cantor moved through her tenure, she quickened her pace. And the birds flew faster.

“It’s hard to keep up with her, she moves so fast,” said Saleh, the vice president for enrollment management. “Don’t take a good idea to the chancellor unless you’re ready to implement it. Because if she sees a good idea, she’ll say, ‘Let’s make it happen.’”

One initiative at a time, she transformed the campus. She introduced SU to her vision of diversity: diversity in terms of geography, ethnicity, socioeconomics and students’ academic interests. She expanded the number of interdisciplinary programs available on campus. She impressed the SU community by raising $1 billion in about seven years.

Faced with decreasing numbers of high school graduates in the Northeast, SU’s primary recruitment area, Cantor worked to open branch offices in Los Angeles, Atlanta and Dubai. In 2012, more than 30 percent of incoming freshmen came from outside the Northeast — the highest number yet.

Her passion for inclusion has encouraged her to fight for expanded racial diversity in the undergraduate class. Since 2004, the percentage of undergraduates of color rose from 17-31 percent.

She also established the Haudenosaunee Promise, in which qualified Iroquois students could receive significant financial aid for full-time undergraduate study.

In regard to academic diversity, Cantor felt it important for students to be able to diversify their undergraduate experience with study abroad, and opened the study abroad programs in Istanbul, Los Angeles and New York City.

When Cantor was approached by three or four students about financial assistance to study abroad, she was able to find funding to help make it possible, Saleh said. But it made her realize the larger issue: Hundreds of students who wanted to study abroad couldn’t because of the finances. She immediately put a plan together, and in three years, students were able to seek financial support through the financial aid office.

Cantor expanded the women’s and gender studies program to include five full-time faculty members as part of her initiative to increase interdisciplinary education, said George Langford, dean of the College of Arts and Sciences. Cantor has expanded the Asian American studies and Latin American studies programs, and increased offerings in Native American studies.

She’s built interdisciplinary research clusters, such as the Syracuse Biomaterials Institute, the Aging Studies Institute, the Burton Blatt Institute for disability studies and the Syracuse Center of Excellence downtown, which focuses on environmental quality and renewable energy.

Patrick Mather, director of the Biomaterials Institute, remembers Cantor’s enthusiasm when he pitched her the idea for the institute.

“She’d always take time out of her busy schedule to check up on the progress and let us know she supported us,” he said. “Whenever I met with her I’d come away a bit more excited than I was when I got there.”

The perfect ending to Cantor’s tenure at SU, in her opinion, was the billion-dollar campaign. Board of Trustees Chairman Richard Thompson recalls the first discussions of the campaign in 2005, when the original target was somewhere between $400 million or $500 million. But Cantor looked at the needs of the university and aimed higher.

Staff and trustees were skeptical of the billion-dollar goal, but it was accomplished in September 2012, three months before its scheduled end date. The total money brought in at that time was $1,044,352,779.

“She sets an agenda and she gets it done,” Thompson said.

In the next few weeks, Cantor will pack her things at the Chancellor’s mansion on Comstock Avenue, her home of nine years. It’s where her son, Archie, spent his high school years attending Manlius Pebble Hill and volunteering at the Slutzker Center for International Services. It’s where her daughter Maddy would spend her summers home from college.

“I’m just so proud of her,” Maddy said. “I’m excited for the legacy she’ll leave behind. I’m excited to take my kids to The Warehouse in 10 years.”

Cantor will prepare the private quarters for the Syverud family, picking up the family portraits off the bookshelves and the pile of dog toys in the corner that belong to Ruby, the family’s golden-lab mix. And as she drives away from Syracuse’s campus toward Rutgers — leaving behind the Life Sciences Complex, the Whitman building and a neon green bike path — she’ll look back fondly.

She’s ready to move on. There’s a bird waiting for her at Rutgers.