A crop 33 years in the making.

I was 9 years old when dirty boots, scruffy ponies, stubborn farm gates, and cleaning water troughs were what I considered paradise. My grandfather was a sheep farmer, and growing up in the city, my mother's retelling of life on the farm—outhouses, making soap, and migrating sheep—were beloved stories of my childhood. I have always lived in awe of those brave enough to farm, and little did I know my career would bring me full circle. 

My tertiary education in biochemistry and genetics provided the first technical touchpoint with the agricultural industry (why did nobody tell me about soil science then?) Attending high school in Paarl and spending a few years in endurance horse riding provided some important social foundations, but my career remained focused on education in its more conventional forms. 

All throughout my career in education, I have, however, been fascinated with what makes learning happen and what makes a good teacher—especially when we have to teach across socio-economic and cultural lines. I have made this my constant obsession and applied this knowledge in the various curricula I designed and delivered over the years. Then a few years ago I was asked to design a learning program to support the professional development of interns during their work-integrated learning on a farm. And that was the moment when this Afrikaans girl came home. 

Working with these bright, brilliant, but often shy and overwhelmed young people made me realise this is the soil I know how to cultivate, the young minds I am called to shape. And if we want a sustainable future for the agricultural industry, we need to get better at developing them.

Last week I found myself waiting at the till of a rural hardware store, holding components needed to step down the irrigation for the wash bays of a student crop farm. I looked down and noticed my dirty boots and I realised I was that 9-year-old girl again.