Putting Some "Farm" Into our Kids

Pulitzer Prize winning author Thomas Friedman has said when he was a child his parents told him to finish his vegetables because there were kids in China and India who were starving. Today, Friedman tells his own kids to finish their math and science homework because there are kids in China and India who are starving for their jobs.

America has lost millions of manufacturing jobs to emerging nations. Now our higher skilled jobs and professions -- computer programming, accounting, engineering and legal services – are subject to outsourcing.

These are unnerving trends, devastating to those who have lost their jobs. It remains to be seen what role American workers will play in the global economy. For me today, I worry about what my kids and grandkids will do to provide for themselves.

Part of securing a strong future for our kids is certainly what Friedman suggests – better education with more rigorous science and math skills.

But I believe there is another value at play here that’s just as important as academics, and is likely contributing to the sluggish academic performance of our youth. It’s what sends me searching for a way to get my kids on a farm, not really to learn how to mass-produce commodities.

I want them to learn how to work.

Really work -- not just unloading the dishwasher, collecting household trash or dusting a shelf -- but working from dawn to dusk, learning how to fix machines, haul manure and pitch in when all hands are needed for harvest or round up.

People who live on a farm learn how to solve problems, be resourceful and innovative, self-start and work hard without complaining. These are not the lessons you learn playing video games, watching TV or even engaging in many of the organized activities that dominate our children’s schedules.

The problem is, I haven’t met very many (or any) farmers who are real interested in employing my kids even when they are old enough. So, short of abandoning our professions and joining an Amish colony, how can we instill farm values in city kids? Can we foster a rural work ethic in our urban children?

Here are three ways to try:

Every family member helps: Children are valuable helpers on a farm, and should be in our homes too. Ditch the cleaning and lawn services and delegate these chores to the kids whenever possible. Who are we helping when an able bodied teenager is watching TV while a paid cleaning lady vacuums under their feet?

Do it yourself: Rather than throwing broken items away or calling a repair man, let your kids attempt to fix the busted chair, unclog the drain, or change the oil in your car. Consider the extra patience (and even money) it may cost an investment in the satisfaction your child will gain in trying and maybe even solving the problem.

Work first, play second: Our culture places high value on entertainment and fun. As parents we are the only ones who can provide the healthy and necessary balance our kids need through a reasonable dose of work and responsibility. Free time is the reward for a job well done.

We might not be able to raise our kids on a farm. But with some effort and firm resolve to ignore their inevitable complaints, we can instill some valuable farm-like work ethics and ingenuity in our kids. Businesses will always be starving for that.

Lessons Learned on Summer Vacation

The title of this story is, “How I drove 2,000 miles and learned to appreciate North Dakota wind.”

Last winter, my brother in Texas called and asked us to partake in a big family vacation at Lake of the Ozarks near Branson, Mo. With minimal consideration, my husband agreed, so I paid the deposit and happily left the arrangements to my brother.

We began to think about the trip, in earnest, about one week before we were scheduled depart. I logged onto Mapquest to plan our route and discovered how many miles exist between Bismarck and Branson: 1,007. That’s 16 ½ hours with stops.

I gingerly told my husband, sitting across from me with his computer, who promptly logged on to Mapquest himself to verify my facts. Next year, I suspect vacation planning will be a joint venture.

The next day, a friend said, “I hope you’re going to change your position on DVDs in the car. You can borrow ours.” Which is what I intended to do. We were just past Sterling when I realized I forgot to take her up on the offer. Oh well, only 1,989 miles to go.

The night before we left I searched for any possible excuse to get out of it. Not the trip really, but the two-page list of tasks leading up to it – completing work projects in advance, packing clothes and toys and food, preparing the car and the house and the yard, finding caretakers for the dogs and the plants.

Staying home is always an appealing prospect the day before a trip.

But as soon as we were on I-94 heading east I remembered something. I love road trips. And this one, it turns out, was to be our most successful venture yet.

Traveling is a learning experience. Here are a couple insights – new or reinforced –from our recent journey.

After dragging kids who can’t swim down water slides or toddlers who need a nap to museums I have finally learned that less is more when traveling with kids. They enjoy splashing in the pool or playing in the lake as much if not more than expensive, crowded, and all-too-often disappointing attractions.

I have multiple friends who have returned from Disneyworld to say their kids enjoyed the hotel pool as much as the theme parks. Maybe it’s all just too much?

On this trip we tried to resist paid attractions and leisurely hung out by the pool and the lake, played cards, read books, swam, walked and ate simple meals without looking at the clock.

My four year old, who was previously scared to go underwater, declared with gusto that his favorite part of the trip was, “Jumping in the pool.” That’ll be a sweet memory when he’s 14 and we’re paying $50 for his admission into an amusement park.

This trip also renewed my appreciation for the Midwest. We drove 2,000 miles across four plains states and I never got tired of the landscape – lush green fields, rolling hills, quaint farms with warm red barns, quiet little towns or friendly cities that aren’t too big or too busy.

We watched enormous thunderstorms and vivid rainbows form miles across the horizon. These sites aren’t just spectacular for their beauty but for the comfort and serenity they invoke in the beholder.

As I was roasting by the pool with my sister one afternoon, I raved about the Ozark’s hot, still, mosquito-free climate. She told me about a friend of hers who moved to Williston from Missouri. This woman’s favorite thing about North Dakota isn’t the friendly people, the good schools or affordable housing. She loves the wind.

This seems almost impossible after the spring we just endured. But I thought about it during our remaining days of vacation. Sitting by the pool was glorious, but as I imagined mowing the lawn in that heavy air I wanted to turn my head and feel a gust of fresh, crisp North Dakota wind.

Dorothy was right. There’s no place like home.

Bowden plows fields of scorn

Award-winning author Charles Bowden, who wrote the National Geographic article “The Emptied Prairie” about North Dakota’s dismal hopes, visited our state last week and offended our good nature once again.

Let me start by saying, Bowden offered some thought-provoking observations about geography and the errors humans are making in an effort to defy the natural limitations of our earth. I’m glad I heard him speak and have been contemplating many of his points.

But his lecture provided little context for the “Emptied Prairie” piece. And his defensive attitude – calling those like the Governor who object to the article “dishonest” and “illiterate” because “even a 10 year old in Arkansas” can understand it -- discredits him as a writer.

The record created by this story needs to be corrected in two ways.

First, from the minute the article appeared and North Dakotans cried foul, Bowden and Geographic editors have insisted that “The Emptied Prairie” was not about North Dakota. The photos for the story came first and Bowden crafted his story around them. It was supposed to be a piece about abandoned buildings.

Perhaps. But in its published form, the article is very much a commentary on life in North Dakota. Bowden’s impressive credentials obviously haven’t earned him any manners, but he should realize that when he specifically names a place 25 times in one article, his observations will paint a very strong picture about that place and the people who live there.

A publication with the reputation of National Geographic ought to be honest enough to admit the article went far beyond an exploration of abandoned buildings.

Second, the core premise of the article is wrong. He concludes that in most places, “abandoned buildings are a sign of change and shifting economic opportunities.” But on the “High Plains” (like North Dakota) “they always mean that something in the earth and sky mutinied against the settlers.”

Bowden said homesteaders believed rain would follow the plow, “but learned better.”

The message of these poetic statements is that the land, the geography here, is unsuitable for farming or habitation in general. The fact that North Dakota is the top producer of 16 different agriculture commodities is apparently just a pesky, dismissible little detail.

The decline of North Dakota’s small towns and the abandoned buildings that remain are most certainly the result of shifting economic opportunities, just like the rest of the country. My own family is an example of this.

My dad grew up on a small grain farm near Ryder, N.D., an hour southwest of Minot. As the oldest son of six children, he spent his childhood toiling on that land and dreamed of farming himself someday. But his father had other plans.

Despite having only a sixth-grade education, my grandpa recognized the changing economics of farming. In less than 20 years, he saw his own operation grow from 160 acres worked entirely by horse-drawn equipment, to 800 acres farmed by fully automated tractors and combines.

He boarded my dad on a train to UND saying, “Get an education Duane. You can always farm, but no one can ever take your education away from you.”

My dad and countless other farm kids never returned to the farm, but that same land is still in production. And so is my dad. He has remained in North Dakota his entire life, creating a successful career and raising a happy family here.

North Dakotans are proof that you can certainly live a prosperous life in this state. You just can’t make it on a 160-acre parcel of land like the original settlers thought. Economic opportunities changed that plan.

This isn’t the dramatic story penned by Bowden of a land dominated by suicides, emptiness and unfulfilled dreams caused by a relentless, unlivable geography. But it is the truth.

Any 10-year-old can understand that.

Is expensive gas a real bargain?

I drove past a local Starbucks last week and noticed a line for the drive through that wrapped around the entire building, out of the parking lot and into the adjoining service road where two more cars waited with blinkers on to join the parade of coffee seekers.

Just beyond this line, a neighboring gas station declared the price of gasoline at $3.83/gallon.

I suspect most of the people in those cars were like me, and bemoaned paying nearly $4 a gallon for gasoline. Yet, I doubt many of them hesitated to pay just as much for 16 ounces of high-octane coffee.

I had to ask myself which product is really overpriced? Filling my 20-gallon tank with Starbucks mocha would cost about $640.

Soaring gas prices are lowering the balance on everyone’s bank account. Not just at gas stations but everywhere we turn prices are up. A basic round of errands like filling up the car, buying groceries and replenishing household necessities can quickly consume $300.

This is a serious, unsettling, painful matter. Economists estimate that every additional penny at the pump takes roughly $1 billion out of overall spending. Half of all adults say the rising cost of gasoline has had a big impact on their personal lifestyle, and low-income people are suffering the most.

What’s most disturbing is there are no apparent quick fixes. There’s no “federal bail out of the housing finance system” available on this issue.

Today’s high gas prices may well be the beginning of a Great Depression of our generation. Or perhaps expensive gas is a blessing for America and the world. The fact that there are no “easy ways out” of this crisis is triggering three important, long-overdue actions.

First, gas and energy prices are prompting necessary, realistic discussions on the local, state and national level about our energy needs and how to meet them.

An alarm went off on this issue 30 years ago and we’ve been hitting snooze ever since. Now we must wake up and get real. Extremists on all sides will be forced to either compromise or become irrelevant.

If we’re going to heat and light our homes, operate our vehicles and fuel a viable economy, we must begin to aggressively employ all of our potential energy sources – everything from geothermal and wind to nuclear, coal and our domestic oil supplies.

Second, high energy prices are forcing us to be more efficient, at home, in business and in government. Sales of motorized scooters increased 24 percent nationwide in the first quarter of the year, while sales of SUVs are plummeting.

People are searching for ways to drive less – coordinating rides with friends, consolidating errands, or just staying home. High operating costs are prompting farmers to employ high-tech innovations that decrease expenses by using less fertilizer, less water and less fuel.

The biggest beneficiary of efforts to use less energy, spend less money and meet our long-term energy needs will be the environment. Saving money is a much better motivator than even the direst warnings of global warming. I can easily ignore climate change but I might walk or bike to work to lower my gas bill.

Our energy challenges are daunting, but they have huge potential to trigger American innovation. As Plato said, necessity is the mother of invention. We are a nation of inventors.

I have great faith that American ingenuity unleashed in force on this challenge will create new energy solutions that will forever change the way we work, play and live. We are going to suffer along the way, but the changes will make us more efficient, more active, and will be good for our planet.

In the long run, expensive gas may be a bargain for all of us.

Thoughts on nesting and letting go

This week I embraced a spring ritual, common for many but new to me -- spring cleaning. A book I stumbled across at the library titled, “How to Cheat at Organizing” inspired me.

Over the last few days, I have attacked several of our home’s catchall places for stuff using the author’s “Four S” organizing scheme – strip, scrap, sort, store. Unfortunately, I’ve discovered in the process that just about every storage place in our house could be mistaken as a “junk drawer.”

This weekend I took the “4S” mantra to the garage, tackling step one -- strip -- on one of the windiest days of the year. As I chased an extra-large dog kennel that was tumbling rapidly uncontrollably down the street and fought back several runaway bikes and lids, I decided this probably wasn’t my best moment in front of the neighbors.

But it wasn’t my worst either. Last month, they watched me run barefoot through the snow in my pajamas chasing after an errant puppy and screaming in a voice more shrill than Hillary Clinton at a political rally.

As I was weeding through our dusty possessions and shuffling things into piles in the garage, it occurred to me that I wasn’t just simplifying, I was un-nesting. Baby gadgets that we’ve outgrown and no longer need to save for another hopeful little life dominated a large pile of give-away items. The jog stroller given to me by my sisters, a baby buggy, baby swing, even many of the baby manuals that were like a Bible to me as a new mom are now looking for another home.

For the record, I am too sentimental than is reasonably healthy for one human being. So, transitions like this definitely give me reason to pause.

As I drove through town this weekend, I saw evidence of others facing a far bigger transition: moms and dads living in homes draped with “Congratulations Graduate” banners. They welcome guests with a brave smile, but I suspect many wear a heavy heart inside.

And rightly so … Think back to the nesting parallel. Expecting parents work so hard to build a comfortable and loving “nest” for their new babies. Family and friends fill it with gear. When babies arrive, we wrap our wings around them and provide for their every need. We feed, carry, clothe, nurture, discipline and console. We teach them how to eat, walk, talk, run, bike, read, pray, write, and countless other essential, unique or just-plain-handy skills.

While the moments as a parent sometimes seem like eternity, the years pass us by in a flash. All too quickly, our babies are ready to fly on their own. They take off to build their own nest, leaving ours all too empty.

As I struggle now to part with baby gear and say good-bye to my era of childbearing, I realize it’s just another small step on the amazing, challenging, emotional journey as a parent.

We might be able to cheat at organizing, but there’s no cheating on this job.

I’m thankful for now that I’m not my neighbor down the hill who has a “Congratulations Graduate” sign on their front door. I’m tempted to walk down and add another, more appropriate sign, beside it. Mine would read, “Congratulations Parents”. Enjoy your new era as free birds!

Motherhood is a Most Important Job

I was in the kitchen when an urgent declaration from my two-year-old drew me upstairs. As I neared the top, I saw him standing on the landing, wearing a huge smile and holding a plastic cup overflowing with Number 2. The rest was spread, like only a toddler can do, throughout our upper level.

That pretty much ended early potty training efforts with our youngest child. As I was cleaning up this mess, I remembered someone telling me once, “I work because I want to do something more important than changing dirty diapers.” At that point, I would have rejoiced at a dirty diaper.

Every parent, whether working outside or inside the home, feels exasperated by the job at times. But this statement, “I want to do something more important than changing dirty diapers,” saddens me. It represents an attitude all too prevalent in our culture -- an attitude that diminishes the importance of motherhood in order to elevate the value of women in the workplace.

The biggest problem with this statement is that it is simply wrong. Not wrong to want or need a job or career, but wrong and completely unnecessary to demean the relevance of mothering in the process.

Let’s be honest, considering the challenges children face today with hard-core drugs, violence, depression and any number of issues relating to the Internet, I can’t imagine a time when there was a greater demand or urgency for active, nosey moms (and dads) who are well-connected to their children.

Our society needs parents who are engaged, inspired and supported in their calling. We would be well-served by uplifting them in their duties through more initiatives like job sharing, flexible work schedules and even tax breaks for families who chose to devote one parent to full-time childrearing.

The truth about parenting is that it is plain hard work. It demands patience, creativity, commitment, and the ability to find value in the daily grind of serving others with very little immediate gratification. Our culture should offer unwavering support and encouragement for this essential vocation.

With Mother’s Day fast approaching on Sunday, my thoughts are on my mom. Aside from one year of teaching immediately after college, she never “worked.” But her resume boasts a list of accomplishments I will never be able to repeat.

For starters, between her kids and grandchildren, she has had a powerful hand in the development of 46 individuals. Her resume includes service to shut-ins, elderly, our church, friends and neighbors. All of this would have been lost had she chosen to do something “more important.”

True, she had to change some dirty diapers along the way – thousands of them. And since disposable diapers weren’t available back then, she washed all of those diapers too. In this respect, it wasn’t a very glamorous job.

But my mom took great pride in her work and I have wonderful childhood memories as a result of her extra effort. What I remember most though is simply that she was there. I remember walking through the door after school and yelling, “Hi mom!” and she was always there for me.

Her job title might not impress people at a cocktail party. But if you measure “importance” in terms of value to society, it’s virtually impossible to put a price tag on her accomplishments.

To that I say, thanks mom. I’m glad you didn’t let a few dirty diapers discourage you from the most important job on earth.

Higher Ed Budget Uninspired

Count me among the many North Dakotans who raised their eyebrows last month when state higher education leaders requested a $250 million funding increase for their 2009-11 budget cycle. That’s 57 percent more than their current base budget.

This was a bold move, to put it mildly. I had to read the news story twice, thinking surely I had misunderstood it the first time.

This budget request troubles me on three levels. First, it is selfish. It calls for devoting about half of the state’s revenue surplus (as projected today) toward higher education, leaving all other state functions like caring for the elderly and disabled, K-12 education, law enforcement, infrastructure, or even tax relief, to share the rest.

When I was a child, my parents gave me and my seven siblings one box of sweet cereal to share on Saturday mornings. We rushed to the kitchen to get our fair share. Similarly, higher ed rushed to the table and helped themselves to almost half the box.

Professors would receive a 14 percent raise, or more in some cases. Meanwhile, people who care for our developmentally disabled citizens – a job that requires incredible compassion and patience -- might be lucky to receive any pay increase.

Second, this budget request is uninspired. College inflation has increased at almost twice the rate of inflation nationally since 1982. Over the last 20 years, state funding for higher education in North Dakota has increased 86 percent or 4.3 percent each year. Again, well exceeding inflation in all but three of those years.

Over that same time period, tuition at UND, my alma mater, has increased more than 300 percent.

For our University System to request a 57 percent budget increase represents more of the same … on hyper drive. What is the justification for these steady and significant increases? Why should we devote a majority of the state’s potential budget surplus to one function?

To be fair, the University System did request measures to “Maintain Student Affordability,” such as a $14 million increase for needs-based financial aid and another $12.5 million to support two and four-year college affordability.

This is similar to Hillary Clinton’s solution to increase government funds for Pell Grants and provide tax credits for families who pay for college. These ideas make more money available to help families pay the expensive college bills, but they do nothing to address rising costs.

In fact, these solutions accept higher-than-inflation cost increases as inevitable and provide more government funding that will likely ensure the trend continues.

What’s missing, I believe, is evidence that college administrators in North Dakota are making every effort to restrain cost increases -- which leads to my final frustration. This budget request shows very little evidence of restraint or prioritization.

It’s difficult to argue that campuses are so far behind in funding that a 56 percent increase is justified when, as just one small example, both UND and NDSU are constructing new, million-dollar homes for their presidents.

I realize these homes are being paid for by a generous private donation. But who’s to say the donor wouldn’t have given the same amount for a different, more student-related purpose like constructing a new science lab or updating computers.

My husband and I are planning to pay for our children to attend college at a state school. I always considered this goal rather reasonable. In recent years, I have learned otherwise. This “reasonable” expectation called for us to begin saving $635 per month, every month, beginning in January 2006 (when two of our three kids were still in diapers) until 2026.

If costs continue rising as projected, the year 2023 could find all of us eating Ramen noodles and instant oatmeal cooked in a hotpot. That’s the year we’ll face a $75,000 bill to cover their tuition and expenses for one year at UND.

Parents today who want to pay for part or all of their children’s college education need to plan decades ahead. They have to work harder, do without the newest or the best, or sometimes simply do without.

That same spirit is sorely missing from the North Dakota University System’s recent budget request.