The Lesson Plan I Never Had
You told us you wanted to hear more from the farmers behind your food, so we're bringing you just that! Meet Farmer Andrea from Falling Sky Farm in Arkansas. She raises chickens, cattle, turkeys, and pigs on her regenerative farm, and she's giving you a behind-the-scenes look at what life's really like out in the field.
Just last week, after fourteen years of riding four-wheelers on this farm, I learned something brand new. Both of ours can be started in gear, if you hold the right handbrake while doing it. No more rocking the machine back and forth, coaxing it into neutral because someone shut it off mid-gear. I had absolutely no idea!
Fourteen years. Three Honda four-wheelers. And I'm still finding things out.
That's the thing about paying attention, though. There is always something new to learn if you're willing to stay curious, keep asking questions, and treat the puzzles around you like they're worth solving.
Me and Cody on our farm in Arkansas, with our herding dog Kit.
We moved from 40 acres to 168 acres in 2010, and walking every chore into the ground pretty quickly stopped being realistic. So the four-wheelers came, and they've been a constant ever since. They're working tools, not toys and apparently, even working tools have secrets they haven't shared yet. I love that. That kind of curiosity, staying open even when you think you know something, is exactly what I want for my kids. Which is probably why, when people ask about our choice to homeschool Sam and Eliza, I answer the way I do.
What about socialization? What about the classes they're missing? Sports? Structure? The list goes on.
What I hear: "What about all the things they're not doing?"
What I think about: "What about learning how to learn? What about being genuinely curious and following where that takes you?"
And honestly, at what point in real life are they going to be in a large group made up entirely of their same-age peers again? I'd argue it's far more valuable to learn how to talk to, work alongside, and genuinely connect with people across all ages and stages of life.
On any given day on this farm, Sam and Eliza work side by side with people ranging from teenage friends their own age to my parents in their early 70s - with folks in their 20s, 30s, 40s, and 50s filling out everything in between. (And occasionally a four-year-old who very earnestly "helps" his mom.) They hear stories. They swap jokes. They absorb perspectives on the world that no textbook was going to hand them. They learn when to push through something on their own, and when a problem is urgent enough to go find the right person fast.
They learn how to solve problems. They learn how to ask for help. They learn the difference and that's worth more than I can measure.
Our flexible schedule makes a lot of this possible. It's what let us load up and spend three days at the legacy museums in Montgomery, Alabama, just because we could. It's what's opening the door to an opportunity in Montana this year moving between two states on a schedule that isn't quite written yet, and being okay with that.
I was homeschooled myself, unschooled, really, for everything except four years of college. I don't carry any regrets about that. I carry a lot of gratitude toward my parents for being willing to try something that didn't look like everyone else's path.
Because I'm still learning. Every single day. From my kids. From Cody. From the animals and the land and the people we work alongside. A fourteen-year-old piece of machinery just taught me something last week. I think that's the whole point.
Never stop learning. Never stop following what lights you up. Life is genuinely short and while plenty of things are out of your hands, how you respond, what you choose, and the curiosity you bring to each day? That's yours. That's your power.
Your Farmer,
Andrea
PS: I'd love to hear from you! What are you trying out this summer? What have you found that works, even if it looks a little different than the "normal" way? Leave a comment and share your own lifelong learning story.