By Ryan Blosser and Danny Lee
My name is Ryan Blosser, and I currently work as a farm educator in Virginia. This isn’t necessarily the job I imagined for myself back when I was young, but now I can’t imagine doing anything else.
My career throughout the last few decades can best be described as a textured one. I’ve spent time as a child and family therapist, an education non-profit leader, an SEL coach, an organic market farmer, and even a classroom teacher. Never one to stand still for very long, I’ve tended to move frequently between new challenges and interesting projects.
I like change and I like novelty, but I think what I’ve truly been seeking is the sweet spot; that perfect moment when vocation and avocation blend together to optimize the biggest impact on the local community. And, at last, I think I’ve finally found it, on the Waynesboro Education Farm.
I.
In a few hours, the farm will be full of children’s voices and energy, but for now, I’m the first one here and it is quiet. I take a moment to sip my coffee, watching as fog lifts off the fields and the sun rises over the mountain, lighting up the carrots.
Then, it’s time to start the grill.
Today, the visiting students will be taste-testing several vegetables that the farm has to offer. One of these, a winter squash known as Georgia Candy Roaster, has a history ripe for a social studies class, but for this particular lesson, we are focused on science.
I cut the pink and blue striped squash in half, brush it with olive oil, and place it on the barbeque to fill the farm with its sweet, nutty scent. Shortly after, the rest of the team arrives to prepare for the day.
First, there’s Danny Lee, the Gifted and Talented coordinator for our district, who has devoted the last 8 years of his 30-year educational career to this role. Danny is a true-blue instructional genius, with a gift for planning and integrating curriculum in hands-on outdoor settings. Next comes Jason Fullerton, an autodidact who has spent half a decade mastering the craft of organic market farming, while picking up some serious teaching and learning chops as well, seemingly through osmosis.
Jason focuses his attention on prepping the harvest station—not an easy task to organize for large numbers of 10-year-olds. Meanwhile, Danny gets to work setting up the day’s lessons, which include a game of hopscotch on the basketball court next to the farm, and a scavenger hunt in the outdoor classroom.
It’s a hustle. The rush to prepare for 80 fifth-grade students to participate in a standards-oriented day on the farm. But we feel lucky to be doing the work, and embrace the intersection of planning and ambiguity that comes along with something new.
The farm is new, our roles with the farm are also new, and it’s been an amazing ride full of wonder, engagement, and food.
II.
Waynesboro Education Farm is an ambitious project. It sits on 1.5 acres of land adjacent to Berkeley Glenn Elementary school in the city of Waynesboro, VA. School gardens have been popular in our area for the last decade, along with farm-to-school culture, and, like many social movements, seem to ebb and flow with the grant money.
Everyone wants a school garden, few commit in any real way.
But much credit should be given to Waynesboro City Schools, specifically Dr. India Harris, who saw opportunity beyond food access and student health. From her vision, the project has taken on a robust link to student achievement. And thanks to Superintendent Dr. Jeffery Cassell and our Waynesboro City School Board, the district has committed to continuing the project beyond its grant funding.
Our goal is to tie the education farm to the pre-K through grade 12 student curriculum, so that every child in the district is experiencing standards-based instruction on the farm, or as we refer to it, in the outdoor learning lab.
The growing space consists of a third of an acre of cultivated land that produced over 10,000 pounds of organic produce this past year. We grow vegetables and integrate our annual production into a permaculture designed perennial food forest and outdoor classroom.
Picture this: rows of fruit trees, medicinal herbs like echinacea and tulsi, and shrubs like haskap, interplanted with patches of annual vegetables and flowers. It’s a delightful medley of colors and smells and tastes, all surrounding what we’ve come to call the learning barn: an open-air covered structure where we dry garlic and onions for curing, and where we also introduce lessons or demonstrate concepts on the whiteboard.
III.
Our farm helps to meet the academic needs of teachers and students from across the district by designing creative, outdoor lessons that support what is happening in their classrooms. Last year we provided over 9,000 hours of instruction time.
In some cases, we may have weeks to prepare; in others, we have days. While we do appreciate being given plenty of lead time, sometimes the most inspired lessons come under pressure.
Part of Danny’s involvement this year has been to act as a liaison between schools and the farm, encouraging teachers to use it as an extension of their classrooms. Often that comes with a teacher who is crystal clear on what they want, while sometimes it’s a vaguer response, such as, “We’ll be in our Matter unit.”
Either situation provides great opportunities for professional collaboration. First, Danny speaks with classroom teachers about goals and standards, then he, Jason, and myself begin to brainstorm potential activities.
When we received the directive about the Matter unit, we came together to start the process of designing a two-hour farm visit for four classes of grade 5 students. We wanted several activities so that students could be split into groups, and we wanted to make sure they had the chance to experience a farm task and taste some produce as well.
Of course, the most important thing was to create an experience that would strengthen students’ knowledge and understanding of the standards associated with matter. Solids, liquids, gasses. Evaporation. Transpiration. Solutions. Mixtures.
As we sat at the outdoor picnic tables, surrounded by that week’s harvest of tomatoes, assorted herbs, peppers, and lettuces, taking in the smells of the roasting vegetables we would momentarily consume for lunch, inspiration suddenly struck.
What if they made salsa?
We had an abundance of tomatoes from the high tunnel garden. The sweet peppers and jalapeños were getting close to the end of their season, but for now were still cranking out plenty of product. There was a bounty of garlic and cilantro. The onions were nearly done, but we could make it work.
Our eyes lit up. We had our hook. Then just as quickly, another idea: What if the kids made hot sauce as well? Mixture and solution, all with the same ingredients. Enthusiasm grew.
IV.
The marriage of the education farm and the traditional classroom is one that’s providing measurable results. Connecting state standards to farm activities is an active and creative process that requires the expertise of the farm educator and the classroom teacher to work in tandem.
It’s about designing immersive lessons that can introduce new material (such as through a scavenger hunt), review previously covered material (using a hopscotch review game), or generate a core memory that will solidify classroom learning—through salsa and hot sauce making, for example.
It’s paying off. Teachers report that the material covered during farm visits has stuck with their learners, and that students talk enthusiastically about their experiences on the farm. Requests to revisit come from both teachers and students.
The hope of this new day, like the hope of a late summer harvest, is bountiful. Students and teachers both fully engaged in an arc of learning, focusing on teamwork, cooperation, and getting dirt under their fingernails. As we practice our way through our first year of student visits and lessons, we stand in awe at what the students have accomplished.
Kids who balk at any semblance of work at home are connected and invested in this farm, and beg to be among the rows of carrots, garlic, and tomatoes when it’s harvest time. They’re building teamwork and problem-solving skills alongside peers they wouldn’t normally associate with. They’re not just working beside one another; they’re working with each other.
Whereas in class some of these students are considered difficult or defiant, or struggle with attendance, on the farm we hear encouragement and support. We see emerging leaders. This is good news, and it’s been fun co-creating it with so many professionals.
V.
The Waynesboro Education Farm also supports extended day programs at the elementary and secondary levels. Our middle school farm club and an elementary ecology/STEM club both use the farm weekly after school and during the summer for camp style programming. Through these club experiences, we reach the academic and the social components of learning.
Most important of all, the farm has given students, teachers, families—all of us—the opportunity to shut off our computers, go outside, and engage in a simpler yet more profound form of learning. One that both builds and takes the lead from the community. It is a breath of fresh air that an unconventional approach from within a mainstream institution can serve as the medicine for our disconnection.
At last, the day is over. Dishes are dirty, we still have to wash a few carrots for cold storage, and there are jars of hot sauce to be labeled. Danny, Jason, and myself all look at each other and exhale. Over celebratory leftover chips and homemade salsa, we tell our stories of the day, funny quotes from the kids, near-miss moments with kitchen knives and shovels, and then we just laugh.
The lingering feeling can best be summed up in how we close each class visit to the farm. One of us, with a student joining along as leader, stands encircled by the day’s visitors and shouts the question: “Whose farm is it?” The students all respond in their loudest outside voices: “Our farm!”
Ryan Blosser, MA, EdS, is a farmer, educator, permaculture designer, writer, and
former child and family therapist. He is co-founder of the Shenandoah Permaculture Institute and owner/operator of Dancing Star Farm. The intersection of his twin passions for growing food and helping people fuels his unique perspectives on education and building community health and resilience through permaculture design.
Danny Lee is a 26-year veteran of the public education classroom, having taught
grades 1, 2, 3, and 5 before transitioning to gifted education, where he serves two
elementary schools. Danny is a believer that all kids need exposure to higher order
thinking, and he has an interest in developing executive function skills in young
learners. He is also an avid theater nerd who has found a passion for directing
community productions.
