The Farm School - Athol, Massachusettes

Instructor, Sept, 1999 by Samuel A. Southworth

On 130 acres in New England, visiting students make a farm - and an authentic learning experience - their own

At 6:30 A.M. at the Farm School, in Athol, Massachusetts, a group of visiting students is working together in the cow barn. Some of them are scrubbing down cows with wet sponges; others are raking manure out of the stalls. Still others pour grain from large sacks into the feeding troughs. Not one of them has ever been this close to a cow before. Are they unnerved by the large, cumbersome animals, the smells, the mooing, the clatter of hooves? If enthusiasm and energy are any indication, not at all. "I wish I lived here!" says one fifth-grade girl.

The students take great pride in working with and understanding the animals, from the smallest chick to Mac, the 2,000-pound Belgian draft horse. As they spend time with the animals, the bottom line becomes clear: Make sure the creatures are happy. Cows, goats, and pigs are notoriously nonverbal, but that doesn't mean they can't communicate. You just have to listen and watch for what they're trying to tell you. This is just one of the many lessons learned by students at the Farm School. Kindergartners through eighth graders, they travel from diverse locations to spend two to five days working the land, building fences, milking cows, and exploring the woods and rolling fields. Schools pay $60 per night for each student they send, and 40 percent of the visiting schools receive tuition support from the Farm School.

This is no petting zoo or theme park. It's the real deal - a "put on your boots and get ready to work" kind of place, and, surprisingly enough, students really enjoy and appreciate being asked to give their all. Working in the garden, taking care of animals, and repairing things are pretty typical farm activities. At the Farm School they become teaching moments, tightly focused lessons about making sense of the world and a person's place in it. The students' efforts actually affect the farm's continued success, and their work has a tangible purpose and product. Says one returning student: "I can show you the planks I put on the chicken coop and the nails I nailed. It doesn't rain on the chickens partly because of me!"

The curriculum standards are supported here but in ways that fit naturally into a larger, more holistic scheme. "Science in Personal and Social Perspectives," for example, isn't a dry standard when you have to understand soil consistency to plant crops, dig fence-post holes for pasture rotation, and make sure every animal has enough food and water. These decisions matter.

The landscape on this windy hilltop in north-central Massachusetts holds a long history of farming. The first settlers came in the late 1600s to what was a wild frontier. It was land that had to be cleared and ploughed by hand, and the rocky soil, which promised a short growing season, could be made to produce crops only through keen foresight and a constant, staggering work load. Family farms such as this have become rare. "Farming in this country is in a lot of trouble, with many family farms going under and an entire way of life going by the boards," says Farm School founder and director Ben Holmes. According to Newsweek magazine, fewer than 3 percent of the adults in America are farmers, down from close to 90 percent 150 years ago. Children often lack a sense of heritage and stewardship for the land, says Holmes.

Not many people would dare to dream up a farm school, and fewer still would see it through to fruition. But farmer and teacher Holmes, along with his dedicated staff of eight, has pursued a vision involving a lot of thinking and hard work to develop a facility that is a valued resource for the many schools that come for overnight programs. His capacity and enthusiasm for discussing poetry and learning while herding cows or fixing a tractor is a welcome reminder of the thoughtful simplicity and dignity of working the land. And though Holmes is leery of educators' jargon, standards for applied education and cooperative learning are not only being met at the Farm School - in some sense they are being set.

The benefits of hard work in a cooperative group are immediate and tangible to the teachers who visit. Many say they see kids cooperating, growing, and developing a solid sense of community - all in a few short days. And in five years of operation, the Farm School has had a 100 percent return rate.

Although a day at the Farm School has its routines, it is never predictable - and certainly never dull. On this sunny day in April, staff member Eric Reimanis is cutting the goat's hooves and needs a hand steadying the animal. Kate Lewis is demonstrating how to milk a cow with a small group of students. And teacher Carlen Rigrod is out in the garden, readying the beds for planting cabbage. She has teams of youngsters hooked up to a plough, and they're taking their first steps in learning how to work with draft animals by being draft animals. It isn't hard, but, as with many things, there's a technique. Program director Josh Buell is moving large stones to make a stairway up to the sugar-mapling house, while his cousin Obediah Buell is teaching blacksmithing at the forge. And there are muffins to be made in the kitchen, and fences to be mended, and the economics of farming to be discussed. Meanwhile, Paul Wanta, the Farm School's expert wilderness tracker, is leading a small group out into the forest to look for 250-year-old oak trees, wild turkeys, coyote tracks, and porcupine quills. One child comments to another: "What is there here not to like?"