The Scene staff
I consider myself a pretty good student, always keeping my head down and my eyes on the prize. But I’ve got to admit that every year about this time, the A’s start turning into C’s … as in “C-ya later turkeys!”
I mean, how am I supposed to concentrate when spring is in the air, flowers are blooming and all the little birds are frolicking just outside my window?
I can’t help but daydream about a life without teachers or bosses or homework, a life where I could go outside whenever I wanted — the life of a farmer, the life for me.
I wouldn’t need much. About 5,000 acres should do it, I think.
Sure, I can imagine my new neighbors sneering and chuckling a bit as I pull up in my sedan, but I don’t care. My farm is going to be bananas! And watermelons and cherries, too. Which reminds me, are blue raspberries native to these parts?
And don’t worry, I’m not planning to sustain myself on fruit cocktail and tropical punch alone. One word: livestock. Chickens? Check! Cows? Got ‘em. Ducks? I don’t see why not.
Then all that’s left to do is buy a pair of overalls and call it a day. I would come home from mending the fence or whatever and my wife would say “Honey, did you milk those cows yet?” and I’d say, “Yup, sure did!”
Yeah, that would be the life. Wake up early to a breakfast of fresh eggs, milk and butter; knock out a few episodes on the Netflix cue and off to work on the farm. No one to tell me, “Do this” or “You’re late” or “Justin, stop! That’s NOT cat food.”
And when the sun sets, I’ll lay down my tools, put on my night cap and rest up to do it all over again tomorrow.
And why not? A lifetime’s worth of education has, I believe, prepped me for whatever challenges farming might entail. I know that the cow goes moo, the sheep goes baah and exactly which little piggy went wee wee wee all the way home.
And if I ever need to get across the river with a fox, a chicken and a bag of corn — trust me, I got this one.
I plan to graduate this semester, and with just a couple more months to go, I’m understandably a little anxious.
Soon I will trade the cozy nursery of my formal education for a piece of paper and a $1.25 copy of the want ads — the farmer’s market of newly graduated, debt-ridden job seekers.
Even if I’m one of the lucky ones who finds a job right out of college, with the changing market and steady stream of talent, it’s hard to know if you’re blue-ribbon ready or just pink-slip poised.
In short, have I truly acquired the skills with which to pay the bills?
Maybe one day I will be sitting high atop my executive office building and looking back on these salad days, and I’ll wonder what I was ever worried about.
Then again, maybe my years of hard work will be left to expire on the shelf like yesterday’s bread, and I truly will be in search of a major career change.
I wonder what kinds of prior experience it takes to land a job in farming, and at what point in the interview should I bring up my gluten sensitivity and lactose intolerance?
Perhaps I should start off small with a garden, or better yet a Chia Pet. Then all I would need to find is 72 cubic feet of space with minimal lighting and a nearby water cooler.