I spent some time on Friday afternoon being questioned at my daughters third grade class. They have some type of thing were the kids parents come in a talk about what they do for a living. So I got to be a farmer Friday. Not that I am not a farmer the rest of the time, I am, but I got to answer questions from the kids on what it is like to be a farmer.
I am not use to this type of thing. Usually I have a PowerPoint with 40 some slides and have a prepared topic, know who is speaking first and after me, so that I can tailor my speech to flow with the meeting. There was no PowerPoint to be made and there was no flow to this. It was more like stand-up comedy. Really. I was even told to “dress” the part so I just came from the shed where I had been working on a couple pieces of equipment. I think they might have been expecting a guy with a straw hat and a pitch fork, but they got a flannel shirt and a grease encrusted Pioneer hat.
Of the things that were asked: How do you get paid? Do you work on your own equipment? What color tractors do you have? What do you grow? Does Morgan help you on the farm? and more of the same type only worded slightly different.
What did I learn: That chickens are mean, that everyone knows someone who has a green tractor, everyone knows someone who has a red tractor, that chickens are mean, that horses grow on farms, that chickens are mean, that everyone has ridden a four wheeler in some farmers field and that everyone knows someone who has a mean chicken.
Somehow there was a anti chicken theme that emerged from the kids. I am not sure where that came from.
So I did my good deed for my daughter, promoted agriculture, learned that chickens are mean and identified a whole bunch of suspects for the police who have may have ridden their four wheelers through my canola fields.