Humble Enough to Learn and So to Teach

In the movie “Patton,” the title character observes that Roman conquerors were able to remain humble because a slave (whose job it was to tote around the golden crown) never stopped warning them, “All glory is fleeting.”

James Walker, president of Moorpark College, needs no such reminder. While some triumph because of what they know and some because of what they do, a few--like Walker--soar because of what they are.

In a word, Jim Walker is humble. When gifted recently with the Harry Buttimer Distinguished Administrator award by the Assn. of California Community College Administrators, he responded, “You don’t win these things alone.”

Walker, who started out as a high school math teacher, now oversees a budget of more than $28 million. He was tapped to head Moorpark College at a time of fierce fiscal restraint, including budget cuts, a hiring freeze and the lingering onus of his predecessor’s resignation amid misuse of funds allegations.

Eight years later, his self-defined job description--”to make it easy for teachers to succeed”--has paid off in unprecedented growth. Walker believes that “when you provide a really good atmosphere for learning to take place, students will come.”

And they have. By 2016, Moorpark’s enrollment is projected to swell to 19,000, and most of them will be taking courses in preparation for second, third or even fourth careers.

Walker’s recent award honors individuals “who demonstrate integrity, compassion and strength in leadership.” Although education reform is a top priority in Sacramento, fewer than one in five state lawmakers currently have a child enrolled in California public schools. I wonder how many other community college administrators can boast, as Walker can, that they, their wives and their offspring have all attended community college.

Walker grew up with integrity, compassion and leadership deftly role-modeled by his Scots immigrant single father who, despite a modest start in a Glasgow shipyard and the handicap of a seventh-grade education, ended up as a banker in what he considered “the greatest state in the greatest country in the world.”

Walker puts his faith in God and consistency, not a surprising systematic viewpoint for a man who has mastered math and who describes himself as a linear thinker with a need for closure. Since, as he freely admits, he doesn’t know all the answers, he tries to involve as many stakeholders as possible, a practice his critics claim considerably drags out the decision-making process. Yet during the 1993-’94 stalled teacher contract negotiations in the Ventura County Community College District, while the other two campuses saw disgruntled instructors boycotting mandatory staff meetings, Moorpark faculty rallied around their popular president.

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Walker, you see, invested years building relationships from the first day he initiated his open-door policy. Starting in 1992, he got himself invited to sit in on classes, made a habit of grabbing a bite in the faculty dining room and began scratching out three or four personal notes a day in recognition of the hard work and personal achievement of the professionals who, he says, make him look good. Walker realized early on that his teachers were more deficient in psychic income than take-home pay.

Having spent a great deal of his youth in boarding schools, Walker harbors an enormous regard for family. This year marked not only his 41st year in education but also his 41st wedding anniversary. Although he’s inordinately proud of his wife Nancy and two grown children, faculty members confide, you can always get the president’s undivided attention by initiating a conversation with the query, “So how are the grandchildren?”

Jim Walker strikes me as a man who knows exactly who he is. Although he didn’t shy away from the formidable task of temporarily replacing district Chancellor Thomas Lakin (who passed away in 1995) he confesses that he deeply missed the daily interaction of campus life during that all-consuming 13 (but who’s counting?) months. The value of the experience, according to Walker, was discovering that he had no desire to move up to district governance once his tenure at Moorpark College concluded.

The word “humility” comes from a Greek root meaning “to be teachable.” Walker is always learning something new, especially when he inquires, “What can I do to help you become the best teacher you can be?”

No wonder he came, he saw, he conquered.

Patton would have been impressed.