No this time

We didn’t make it to the second round (the first round of the University of Murcia rectoral elections 2026 took place yesterday).

And yet, I find it very hard to feel that this has been a loss.

These have been intense months. Months of exposure, of conversations, of thinking out loud. Months in which I’ve had to explain myself many times —to others and to myself— what kind of university I believe makes sense today.

And in that process, something important happened —something I always value: I have learned A LOT.

I’ve learned how the university really works when things are truly at stake. Not its formal structure —we all know that— but its inertia, its rhythms, its silences. I’ve learned what moves people… and what doesn’t. What sparks enthusiasm and what provokes resistance. What is hard to say in public, even when many think it in private.

I’ve also learned what it means to hold an idea. Not to throw it out, not to hint at it, not to mention it in passing in a corridor. To hold it. In front of others. With nuance, with doubts, but without withdrawing it when it becomes uncomfortable.

And throughout this whole process, there has been a constant reference point: Senena, Marisen.

I’ve seen up close something that isn’t always visible from the outside. Her capacity for work —which, I promise, is striking— yes. But above all, her way of thinking about the university. With a level of intellectual depth that is not common, with perspective, without shortcuts. Without easy simplifications.

I’ve seen her persistence when things didn’t go well. Her discipline in sustaining the pace. Her way of listening —really listening— and then deciding. And also something that is not so common: her trust. In the project, in the team, in the idea that it was worth trying. Her closeness, her smile. But above all, I’ve seen someone deeply committed to this university, in a way that cannot be faked.

It’s not just that she was a good candidate. It’s that, for many of us, she has embodied a way of understanding what it means to live up to an institution like this. And that leaves a mark.

I also take the team with me.

My fellow candidates (Santi, Chari, Caty, Juanjo, María, Mª José, Rosa, Pedro M., Pepe, Mariola, Yvette, Yésica, Salvi, Paloma, Máximo, Dorothy), and my campaign colleagues —those behind the scenes, the ones who rarely appear in the photos but who know who they are— have been both a personal and an intellectual discovery. And a gift. One of those unexpected gifts that, when they arrive, you know will stay with you longer than this moment itself. People I probably would never have met in this way —at this level of intensity, of conversation, of commitment— and whom I hope to keep crossing paths with.

From all those connections, some remain in a particularly special way. And in my case, Pedro M. Because beyond the work —which has been a lot— there is something I value especially: that he believed in me to be here. That he gave me that space. That he brought me in with a naturalness and trust that are not always easy to find. And that, for me, has truly mattered.

I have also imagined.

I have imagined a different university. Not a perfect one, but one more aware of the moment it is in. More honest about what it means to teach and to learn today. More capable of taking artificial intelligence seriously —not as a tool, but as a rupture. More willing to stop pretending that everything remains the same, or to change everything so that nothing really changes. Imagining that, doing it with others, giving it words, measures, structure… has probably been the most valuable part of this whole process.

Because once you start to see the university in this way, you cannot unsee it.

I also take with me the people of my university. The constant support from many, the unexpected warmth from many others. Conversations that would not have happened otherwise. People I would not have listened to this closely. Different perspectives —sometimes very far from my own— that have forced me to refine, to explain better, to understand more deeply.

Not everything has been comfortable. Nor easy. But it has been deeply interesting. And that is no small thing.

I leave this campaign with the feeling of having been part of a conversation that matters. Of having put on the table questions that, sooner or later, we will have to address as an institution: what it means to learn and to teach today, what we value when we talk about good teaching, how a university transforms itself without pretending that the context has not changed.

Now I return to my usual world… this has been “just” a beautiful adventure, but I am no longer quite the same. I can no longer stop seeing all of this. And I’m glad of that, because it has been worth it —and because we have changed.

Good luck and good job to those still in the race, and my heartfelt thanks to everyone who, in so many different ways, has supported me through this process.

(I still owe you a video version of this —but I’ll try to look a bit less sad :-))