Take the kids off the farm, and what do you have? A bunch of well-behaved, well-adjusted kids who may not know which fork to use first, but know how to hold a door for a lady, say “please” and “thank you” and are happy to be just about anywhere but sweating on a hay wagon in the Midwestern June heat.

Recently I was privileged – and yes, I mean privileged – to chaperone a group of nearly a dozen teenagers from Michigan who attended the National Holstein Assoc. in Wisconsin. Not having traveled with this particular group of youth, I just wasn’t sure what to expect. Would they stay up too late? Would they run the halls of the hotel acting like toddlers? Would they ride on the luggage cart?
And what would driving through Chicago with a 12-passenger van full of excited teenagers be like? Would they like the convention, or be homesick? Would they hate the planned activities or would they get involved and enjoy every minute?

As I got behind the wheel, I prayed for safety and patience – and we were off to the Wisconsin Dells. To my surprise, there wasn’t one word about how long it would take, if we were there yet or complaints about tight quarters. In fact, we were on the west side of Chicago before someone asked when we were going to get to Chicago.

Arriving at our destination, they were happy with the hotel and headed to the pool. By 11 p.m. it was lights out and not a peep was heard.

The rest of the week went as smoothly as the first day. They toured farms, attended sales, competed in contests and enjoyed the world’s largest indoor water park. They never complained, were never late, were always courteous and usually laughing.
They mixed with the hundreds of other junior Holstein members from across the country, compared notes when they toured the farms and knew the value of the hard work that went into each operation.

Were these kids perfect? Absolutely not; they’re kids. But not just any kids. Once again, the unique difference in these young people was their home environment of the farm: A place where they’ve been expected to perform, contribute and give. A place where they are needed, valued and counted on. A place where they are planted, fertilized and nourished to grow into the person they are bent on being.

Having the chance to spend a week at a convention celebrating the existence of their families’ choices was the opportunity of a lifetime, and it’s almost as if they knew it. They didn’t say that verbatim, but they felt it.

By their actions, you could see they appreciated not only the time away from the farm and the responsibilities their families were burdened with while they were absent, but just being able to enjoy the fun and fellowship of likeminded teenagers.

There was little need for discipline, for these kids demonstrated plenty of it on their own. I never worried if they were really going where they said they were going. I never worried if they might find interest in the opposite gender, or finding them in a closet doing things their mothers would shoot them for.

And when we sat down for the fancy dinners, they were a delight to dine with, always providing witty conversation.

I realize farm kids have their flaws. I know firsthand; I’m raising four of them. But their attributes far outweigh their imperfections. Parents who are dedicated to farming seem to follow through with dedication to parenthood. I spent a week with 11 subjects that seem to prove this theory.

And, I’ll be glad to continue my research next year in the land of fruits and nuts when Sacramento hosts the 2009 National Holstein Convention.

Readers with questions or comments for Melissa Hart may write to her in care of this publication.