University of Arkansas–Fort Smith Chancellor Dr. Terisa Riley grew up in a small town in Missouri. It was not the center of the universe, but for the years she spent there, it was the center of hers. She had a younger sister close to her age, and that seemed to complete her family. But when Dr. Riley was a teenager, her parents welcomed two more daughters.
Theirs was a happy, hardworking family, but not the kind that went to college. So when Dr. Riley served as president of the Future Teachers of America Club in high school, she assumed she could go straight from graduation to teaching. It wasn’t until a teacher pulled her aside and said, “You do understand, though, that to be a teacher you have to have a college degree,” that she realized how much she didn’t know.
The realization that she’d need a degree sent her to the school library, where catalogs from colleges and universities across the country were stored. “Navigating the bureaucracy of higher education was just so foreign to me and my family,” she says. “We didn’t know what the words meant or the acronyms. FAFSA—what is that? My father made just enough that I didn’t qualify for a Pell Grant, but not enough to pay for college.”
With the help of her teachers, Dr. Riley completed college applications. But that wasn’t her biggest obstacle. Her sisters, the girls she’d held so close, were hard to leave behind. “I felt guilty,” she says.
Then her dad saw her struggle.
“My dad pulled me aside and said, ‘Terisa, when you turn eighteen, it’s on you. So, you can’t expect anything from us at that point. But we don’t need to expect anything from you either. So go make of your life what you need to make of it.’”
Riley’s college years were challenging in ways she could never have imagined. She worked three jobs to pay her way, and when she was hired to be a resident assistant in one of the university’s residence halls she knew she had found a pathway to help others. “I knew that working to make college more accessible to students like me needed to be my personal and professional mission.”
Dr. Riley recounted the struggles she faced after she graduated. She explained, “In order to work in a college or university, I knew I would need advanced degrees such as a master’s degree and doctoral degree. I just decided to do it the hard way, while working full time and giving birth to four children in less than three years.” Riley went on to say, “For those wondering about the math, I had twins, then another baby thirteen months later, and then another baby twenty-two months later.” She laughed when she recounts that her children’s friends, and her students at UAFS, often call her “Mother Terisa.” She also teared up when she recounted her four little children attending her doctoral degree commencement and yelling, “Yay, Doctor Mom!”
Riley is incredibly proud to point out that all four of her children have college degrees and all of her sisters either have college degrees or attended college. “What a powerful role model I became in breaking through the barrier and showing all of them that college is achievable. I’m so proud of that.” She went on to say, “I am so grateful to be able to impart that same role modeling with my students who have children, work, and other obligations. I tell them that if I could do it, I know they can, too.”
When she arrived at UAFS in July 2019, she knew she’d found where she belonged. “The people were kind, the community giving, and the region beautiful,” she says. But only eight months later, COVID changed everything.
“I was sitting here, and in a moment of doubt, I thought, how are we going to teach welding? How are we going to teach robotics online? Nursing, online? I firmly believe God puts things in your path when they’re intended to be there, to provide reassurance in times of doubt. Then an email popped up. One of the faculty in our robotics program sent me a message that said, ‘Chancellor, thought you’d like to see what the students did on their spring break.’ They had created a program to run their robots from home. They sent me a video of a robot drawing our mascot.”
Her voice catches, the story still tender. When she recovers, she says softly, “It’s an amazing place. Why would I have doubted them?”
That moment reminded her of what she loves most about higher education—the resilience and creativity of the students she serves.
Now, with enrollment numbers back to pre-pandemic levels, UAFS is thriving again. More than sixty percent of its students are first-generation college students, just like Dr. Riley once was. Half come from Sebastian County, another quarter from Crawford County, proof that the university’s reach remains deeply local.
She calls UAFS “a unicorn of a school,” in large part because of its collaboration with high school students. Through the Western Arkansas Technical Center, UAFS teaches at twenty-three high schools across twenty-two districts, focusing on degree paths not offered elsewhere, including robotics, machining, electronics, and network technology.
“We also have EMT and CNA training,” Dr. Riley says. “We offer the LPN program to high schoolers. Some will cross our stage and get an LPN license before their high school diploma. They can go on to work at Mercy or Baptist and earn $50,000 to $60,000 as eighteen-year-olds.”
When those young graduates enter hospitals, they’re encouraged to keep learning. “The LPN to RN pathway is about fifteen months,” she explains. “It’s fast, affordable, and opens doors to leadership.”
Ask anyone at UAFS and they’ll tell you Dr. Riley is everywhere, usually with her incredibly supportive husband, Dr. Ricardo Maestas, at her side. She’s in the stands at basketball games, laughing with students between classes, attending concerts, art shows, and fundraisers across the community. She stops for selfies, remembers names, and replies personally to messages from students.
“She doesn’t see strangers,” one faculty member said. “Just friends she hasn’t met yet.”
Dr. Riley admits she draws energy from being surrounded by students. “It’s the best part of my job,” she says. “You can’t lead from behind a desk. You have to show up, at games, at performances, at student events. That’s where you see what they’re learning come alive.”
Her leadership style is grounded in authenticity and curiosity. She still teaches an occasional class or guest lecture, believing the connection between chancellor and classroom should never fade. She’s also looking ahead. “We’re researching the role of artificial intelligence in higher education,” she says. “We’ve already launched an AI lab and a chatbot on our website, but we’re exploring how it can improve student learning and faculty success. It’s not a replacement for teachers; it’s a resource for them.”
Dr. Riley often stands by the wide windows of her office, watching students rush across campus, hands in pockets, backpacks bouncing, laughter echoing.
Asked what she wants for them, her answer is simple. “I want them to leave UAFS with the skills to make a good living,” she says. “But even more than that, I want them to have a beautiful life.”
For a woman who’s built her success on grit, gratitude, and a lifelong belief in possibility, it’s clear that Dr. Riley is doing far more than leading a university. She’s shaping a generation—one student, one handshake, one conversation at a time.
words MARLA CANTRELL // images University of Arkansas – Fort Smith
