Country Column: The school routine

Back to school schedules are starting, families are getting back into a routine - but I am convinced that ranch kids have a somewhat different schedule than other kids. Instead of setting the alarm to simply wake up and get ready for school, their alarms are set several hours earlier to take care of ranch chores that must be done prior to school. Growing up, I remember having to be pulled out of bed to get my work done in the wee morning hours before the bus came. During high school years, I had a bad habit of finishing my makeup in the rear view mirror on the way to school (something I would not recommend to high schoolers today).

After many years of early mornings, I still do not admit to being a “morning person.” That being said, the benefit of this daybreak routine was seeing how much more I could get done before my friends would make it to the classroom. In college I worked at a dairy where I clocked in at 5 a.m., milked cows and cleaned the barn for two hours, and still had time for a quick shower and meal before making it onto campus.

The downside is that when these mornings do not go according to plan, your bad day has started much earlier than everyone else’s. One particular college morning, I slept through my alarm – or maybe I thought I was 10 years old again waiting for my dad to force me out of bed – but either way, I was late to the dairy; and as the rule goes, when one thing goes wrong, every other task follows suit: it was bitter cold that morning, a notoriously stubborn old cow did not want to come in, and it seemed like every cow had to relieve themselves in the barn instead of in the lot – inevitably increasing my clean-up time ten-fold.

As if these hiccups weren’t enough to slow me down that morning, near the end of my shift I watched a cow kick through her kicker (a large, metal, c-shaped clasp that is supposed to keep cows from kicking) and sling-shot her milker off her utters with one swat. I grabbed the kicker and the milker and forcibly pinched the kicker onto the cow’s hip and shoved the milker back on her utters and scolded, “You’re almost done!” I leaned back against the rail next to her and sighed. Then, as if in reply, I heard and felt the familiar, warm splatter that any cow handler knows instantaneously is manure hit the back of my neck. I’m convinced cows have a sense of humor …

After cleaning the barn, a rushed shower, and change of clothes in the shortest hour of my life later I fell into my Biology 101 seat next to my friend. My classroom buddy turned to me and started to smile, but then sniffed, and said, “Where have you been?”

“Don’t ask,” I said, “It’s been a crappy day.” She laughed and said, “It’s only 8 o’clock.” I nodded and said, “Yes, and I have literally already been crapped on.” She paused then, opened her notebook and said, “Sounds like you’ve had a productive day!”