We're not feeding hogs...or are we?

I remember when I was a young girl that my Daddy often would say to me, "Remember now, we're not feeding hogs."  I had no idea what he was talking about.  I knew we were not feeding hogs.  We didn't have any swine on our farm.  We were operating a dairy farm.  We raised Holstein heifers and milked Holstein cows without a pig in sight.

So, finally one day I asked Daddy what he meant by that.  He said, "Have you ever been to a feed lot?"  I had not.  So, after the morning chores, followed by breakfast, we climbed into the pickup truck to go down to Nashville to get some minerals or a load of corn or some such and Daddy stopped off at a feed lot where they were feeding out pigs for slaughter. 

We got out of the truck and walked over to one of the barns where hundreds of pigs were kept in narrow pens leading down into a lot away from the shelter of the barn.  The smell was overwhelming.  Pigs creating a strong and pungent odor.  The guys working at the feed lot were putting a grain mix of corn and such out for those feeder pigs.  They drove by on a tractor with a mechanical wagon that spit out the grain mix into a trough for those pigs.  Some of the pigs would come running and would dash from place to place lapping up the grain mix.  Some of them would lumber slowly up to the trough and push other pigs out of the way to get a lot of the grain mix.  Some of the pigs came to the trough but didn't get a lot because the other two types kept pushing them away.  Yet others just stayed back until all the other pigs ate their fill and then they came up and licked up the few crumbs that were left. The guys feeding, however, just slowly drove down the long row of troughs and kept the wagon spitting the grain mix out till they got to the end of the barn.  Then, they turned and came back down the other side of the barn to feed the pens on the opposite side.  Once they had finished with that barn, they drove the tractor pulling the wagon on to the next barn and never looked back.

After watching a while, Daddy and I climbed back into the truck and he pointed it toward home.  Once we were settled in and on the highway headed south, Daddy asked me what I noticed.  In my youth, I simply said, "There were a lot of pigs and only a couple of guys feeding them."  Daddy said, "Yep.  What did you notice about those pigs?"  So, I sat and thought and described the way the pigs responded in four general categories.  I was asked, "How do you think each different group produced with that kind of atmosphere."  After thinking a bit, I explained, "Well, those who rushed up to the trough and dashed from place to place got a good bit to eat. Those who lumbered up there and pushed the others away got a lot to eat.  Those who simply came to the trough got a little to eat but not enough to really flourish and those who held back probably didn't gain much weight or grow at all."  Daddy said, "And what was the goal for the pigs?"  I just looked at him like he'd lost his mind and finally said, "I think they were all expected to grow and thrive and gain weight so they can produce a lot of ham and sausage and pork chops."  Daddy said, "Yes, and how do you think our cows and calves would do if we took care of them like those guys were feeding those hogs?" 

That is when the lesson really hit home to me.  We looked at each animal on our farm as an individual who was going to work hard to produce a lot of milk and provide us with a good living.  If one didn't come to the trough and eat well, we took a bucket over and fed her individually so she could continue to grow or so she could continue to produce as much milk as possible.  If one pushed the others away from the trough, we would move her to another place to eat alone so that the ones being pushed away could get more and the push-away cow would not get too much.  If one ran from place to place to eat, we made certain that there was grain in more than one place for her to eat.  We treated each individual like she was special because she was.  She was our livelihood and there were not hundreds more in the next pen to take her place.

Throughout my career as a teacher I have kept my Daddy's lesson in mind.  I haven't been just throwing corn out to the hogs and hoping they produced sausage and ham and porch chops.  I've tried so hard to meet teachers and students where they are and support them and nudge them and encourage them to grow to where the needed to be.

Yet things have changed since schools were closed and we began distance learning.  So very many people needed extra support and needed to quickly grow their digital skills that we have been working for the masses.  This week, especially, I feel like I've been feeding hogs - just taking a bucket and casting the corn into the trough and hoping for the best.