Hopefulness and Faith
In the midst of a semester like none other, I have tried to carve out time to read for pleasure. That has proven to be very difficult as we navigate the ups and downs of a presidential transition and teaching and learning in a pandemic. My wife, Wendy, has been a source of constant support and has done the bulk of the heavy lifting on our small farm in northwest Montgomery County. As the nights grow colder, I am reminded of the constancy of changing seasons and the unpredictability they bring.
As an anniversary present in September, Wendy inspired me with a signed copy of English Pastoral, the second book by British author James Rebanks. His first book, recounting his life as a shepherd in the Lake District in northern England, and his popular Twitter account, have made him the world’s most famous sheep farmer. He eloquently describes the challenges of farming as he walks the reader through the annual cycle of the farm and the farmer.
I am drawn to the annual cycle of the farm and our College. There is familiarity and comfort that comes with the passing of the seasons, and yet no two years are ever the same. I look forward to the first day of classes with the same anticipation (and nervousness) as the first day of the lambing season on our farm. As we planned for this unusual academic year, I found myself drawing strength and inspiration from an aspect of farming that I had taken for granted: The farmer has a combination of hopefulness and faith few others can match.
The farmer plants the crops no matter how uncertain the harvest seems, investing time and energy even when the payoff seems unlikely. The farmer knows he can’t wait for better prices, better weather, or even signs that good times are on the way. At our small farm, the shepherd can’t wait to put the ram in with the ewes until she knows how harsh the spring weather will be. The time for the right combination of sun and rain is not something we can alter, no matter how much we wish it so.
At Wabash our concern is not the harvest of corn or the lifecycle of lambs, but I see the development of our young men tied just as strongly to a season in their lives. In early summer when so many colleges announced plans to provide online-only education and still others “de-densified” by cutting their student populations in half, I became even more convinced that our students needed a face-to-face, residential experience.
In my mind, delaying our students’ education, pushing back their achievement of important milestones, became the equivalent of giving up a growing season that they would never get back. I am thankful to have enough farmer in me to appreciate that there is a season for everything, but mostly I am glad to have spent time with enough farmers who forged on in the face of very long odds.
Both farmers and colleges also have in common that their motivations are easily misunderstood by outsiders who wrongly frame them solely in economic terms. Many farmers plant their crops knowing that an actuarial analysis makes clear they would do better financially by letting the fields lie fallow.
Somehow the idea took hold in the media that the colleges bringing students back to campus this fall were concerned more about revenue than student development. While it could be true at some campuses, when the auditors examine the books at Wabash, I suspect they will more likely question the financial wisdom of investments in PPE, COVID-19 testing, tents, HVAC alterations, technology, cleaning, and a hundred other additional costs. A year as a virtual college might have made financial sense, but it would have felt like a betrayal of our mission if we didn’t put every effort into providing residential education for our young men.
Students were in classes with their faculty and safely engaging in athletic activities with coaches. Lilly Library has been alive with activity and the Senior Bench sported a new coat of paint each week. For one of our most enduring rites of passage, our students created a unique Chapel Sing event. We even had prospective students and their families visiting campus for carefully planned tours and meetings.
But another parallel between our College and the farm weighs on me: The knowledge that no matter the strength of the plan, there are always factors outside of your control that will influence the final outcome. An unexpected storm can take you from a good year to a disaster faster than you can react.
On the last day of fall classes, I told one of my colleagues I was more excited about that day than Commencement. It has been a long semester for all of us, but the efforts were well worth it.
Here at Wabash, we had a great plan created and executed by exceptional people. Our students rose to the challenges we posed for them, and I am so proud of what we have accomplished to date.
No matter what happens from here on out, nobody will be able to say that we left our campus fallow.
Scott Feller President fellers@wabash.edu