The Rural Voice, 1988-02, Page 30students with farming backgrounds
have a remarkable knowledge of
genetics and land management."
But if the best product we are
raising on the farm is our farm chil-
dren, there is little doubt that we are
raising them for a foreign market.
Cathy is a high-school student who
lives with her family on a dairy farm
north of Wiarton. Last summer, Cathy
took her first off -farm job at a local
restaurant. But two weeks into the
job, with haying season just getting
underway, Cathy's grandfather be-
came seriously ill. The grandfather
was an integral member of the farming
operation and, along with concern for
the local schools. Both high schools
on the Bruce Peninsula offer co-op
credits which allow students to work
in their community and gain high-
school credit. However, because
Wiarton High School doesn't offer
Environmental Studies in its curricu-
lum, it cannot incorporate farm work
into its co-op program. Bruce Penin-
sula District High School in Lion's
Head does have that option, but accor-
ding to co-op director Bill Petter, there
has been no interest in farming from
his students. And it is not policy to
encourage interest or explore the pos-
sibilities of farming as a career choice.
In speaking with very young chil-
by Elena Schyff, age 10, Grey Central School, Atwood, Ontario
his health, the family was faced with
the loss of experienced help at one of
the busiest times of the year. Cathy
left her town job and went to work for
Dad. According to Cathy, "It was no
big deal," but the story epitomizes the
sense of co-operation inherent in fam-
ilies who farm together.
Still, like many of her peers, Cathy
does not see farming as an option in
her own future.
If the farm community is, as it
says it is, intent on having its sons and
daughters carry on the traditions of
farming, the intention is not evident in
dren, the love of their home farms is
gloriously evident. Baby animals, hay
mows, and forts in the bush are all part
and parcel of their childhood. But the
teenage years seem to bring about a
heavy dose of realism and disillusion-
ment with the business of farming.
This, coupled with the magnetic ap-
peal of city lights, leaves fewer and
fewer farm children prepared to follow
in their parents' footsteps.
The 4-H system reflects the attitu-
dinal changes that have occurred. The
junior clubs still enjoy healthy mem-
berships, but Sheldon Spencer, who
leads a senior club, says it has been
difficult, especially in the past three
years, to get the minimum six mem-
bers needed to form a club. Spencer,
along with other club leaders at both
junior and senior levels, notes other
membership changes. The number of
females involved in 4-H is increasing
steadily. As well, the proportion of
members who live in a non -farming
environment is on the rise.
A trend emerges. Professor
Michael Jenkinson from the agricul-
ture department at the University of
Guelph offers these facts. In 1977,
enrolment in the agricultural program
was 1,560. Today, the number has
decreased by 45 per cent to 880. But,
as in the 4-H system, a decline in
numbers is not the only evidence of
change. Professor Jenkinson divides
agricultural enrolment into three equal
groups. "Only about one-third of our
students today are from the farm," he
says. "Another third are from rural
towns, and the final third are from the
cities." Again, the increased propor-
tion of females interested in farming is
shown in the enrolment figures. This
year, 42 per cent of the agricultural
students at Guelph are women.
And if these women are to farm,
the need for rural day-care will inten-
sify. Professor Jenkinson is quick to
point out, however, that of all the stu-
dents, male or female, urban or rural,
only about 12 per cent will actually
work a family farm as we know it.
The rest will find themselves in differ-
ent fields: genetic research, ministry
offices, corporate farm management.
And so the prospect of even one
more full generation of farm children
is exceedingly dim. But while they
are endangered, farm kids are not
extinct. On the beach, late in the eve-
ning when the summer people have
gone back to their barbecues, you
might see a youth standing knee deep
in the waves with a bar of soap, wash-
ing away the chaff and the heat of a
day in the mow. In the hockey arena,
one child might carry the subtle, pun-
gent aroma of barn. They can still be
seen in their natural habitat, looking
anxious at the livestock markets,
dressed all in white at the fall fairs.
Maybe someday you will say to your
grandchildren, "I saw a farm kid
once." Or better yet, "I was one."0
28 THE RURAL VOICE