My First Time Farming

Early in April, The Workshop group started a variety of seedlings in the Tang Institute, packing soil into little cubicles and shelving them for eventual transplant. Buttercrunch lettuce, bell peppers, romaine lettuce, cilantro, tomatoes. As the days sprung into weeks, some flopped their lush, large leaves with drama. Others marched upward in the lamp light, serious and straight-backed. And certainly, they were adorable in their cubicles, but by now, they have outgrown their original homes.

I’ve never gardened before and have largely murdered rather than mothered my plants. This term, however, I’ve really channeled some inner farmer aspiration. I feel fulfilled on so many levels, and I can’t help but notice the life lessons that breathe beneath the surface.

For one, we as a group have invested serious time and love into these seedlings. Best of all, our efficiency consistently astonished me. We started with these piles of new soil that make me look like an ant. Within an hour, we’d cleared it all, weeded the garden plots, planted leafy little greens in rows, labeled them with popsicle sticks, and stopped to admire our work. In a world of computers, it’s rare to visualize this much progress. It’s the power of friendship, I suppose.

I’ve always considered myself an environmentalist, if not the type to sleep in the woods. I’ve definitely never imagined myself as the farmer type. (I’m not.) And yet, I found so much joy in the garden that I understand environmental justice with fresh eyes. We often speak of climate as an abstract, scientific thing. April, for example, was the eleventh consecutive hottest month on record. Experts are predicting an extraordinary 17 to 25 hurricanes this year. But in the garden, nature is not a headline, not a concept — it’s a reality. I touch the leaves. I feel the roots. I cut a few worms in half (by accident). I interact with the plants, and in doing so, I participate in their nurture. When much climate work is motivated by fear, gardening is a counter thesis.

And beyond that, I just enjoyed it, the way I enjoy standing under the sun. Each step of gardening requires a different kind of attention. Sometimes you must be physical and strong, digging dirt or hauling buckets. Other times, your hands should stay soft and delicate to prevent tearing the darling seeds as they wiggle towards the sun. And my favorite aspect of weeding: twisting my hand in a mix of force and control to pull the most root possible at once. There are so many oddly satisfying little things to do. Instagram could never compare.

Gardening is so inherently about patience, growth, and change. So, I may not be the farmer type now, but it turns out all of us can garden. All of us can contribute to the watering, weeding, and nurturing as grain-sized seeds to slowly grow into fresh, organic food. The more of us the better, actually. It’s quite the metaphor for climate justice.

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THE WORKSHOP

Each spring term, The Workshop welcomes approximately 20 seniors to this interdisciplinary, project-based course. With an eye toward reimagining what school can be, the Workshop is the senior’s only academic commitment for the entire term. Instead of splitting their time and attention into units of distinct courses and fields of study, they work closely with peers, faculty, and community and global partners on a series of linked, interdisciplinary projects that revolve around a single theme. Within the theme Experiments in Education, students explore areas of personal interest.