My journey with education has always been an unorthodox one, as I had always juggled my academic goals with my equestrian goals. I spent all of my high school career thinking about how to reallocate my time in a way so I could spend more time at the barn with my horse. All I ever wanted to do was compete, and I thought my horse and I had the potential to be successful on the show circuit. Once high school ended I was faced with a choice: try my hand at going professional with my horse, or give it up and go to college. For me, the choice was a no brainer. I deferred my college admission for a year, and packed up everything I owned to go live on a farm in Windsor, South Carolina for the winter.
A couple of clients horses, Donte (left), Forest (right)
The first year on the farm quite literally changed the way I viewed the world. I had lived my whole life in a bubble within a bubble, in a liberal-upper-middle class neighborhood, where nearly everything was within my reach. I was the outlier in my graduating class, as everyone either went directly to Ivies, or Ivy-adjacents, or went lavishly “backpacking” across Europe to find themselves. My family didn’t understand my deviation from the well-worn path of my peers, and thus left me to figure out how to make it work on the farm.
To make ends meet for my horse and I, I lived in a single-wide trailer with two other working students, and the family that ran the farm: a total of seven people. We worked from 6:30 am to 7pm, seven days a week. We only ever got a day off if it rained hard enough to obstruct us from working the horses, and it only rains like that in South Carolina about once a month. For the first time in my life, I had to work myself to the bone, constantly, for something I knew I wanted. Luckily, I found that I loved the challenge.
Myself, on the right, with the family.
The work was hard, but I made two best friends that made it the best experience I’ve ever had. I was surrounded by people who hadn’t grown up the way that I had, and their lives were astronomically different. These girls I lived with had also worked on farms their whole lives, but they had had to work twice as hard to get half of what other girls got. The closest store was a Dollar General nearly 40 minutes down the road, and should us girls be left on the farm by ourselves, our neighbor was a nicer older gentleman who would come over with his shotgun should we need anything. It was the complete opposite of the life I had lived up till that point, but I couldn’t have loved anything more. I needed to experience a life other than sheltered, gilded cage one I had, and I found people which understood me like no one else had.
Myself (left), Lucy, Tori (working students; best friends)
Coming back to school has been increasingly difficult for me, because most days it feels like I’ve left my heart on the farm, but I want to pursue a formal education. As much as I miss being in SC, I want to be pushed past my comfort zone and forced to grow, like I am at school now. Even though I’ve made my decision to be committed to school, I try to stay connected to the people and places that made me who I am today. So instead of going with my friends to Miami or Myrtle Beach for spring break, I’ve made plans to stay in my old bunk in our single-wide trailer and go back to my roots. It’ll be an abrupt adjustment to go from my spacious apartment here in Amherst, to living on top of seven other people and shoveling manure every morning at 8, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. As much as the pressure of school and my impending future can get me down, being able to stand in the huge, sun-bleached grass fields while the wind whips through my hair and watching the horses run to their gates for dinner will always be my saving grace. I know I’ll feel like me again in the saddle, and I’ll be ready to come back to being cooped up on campus for another year. I’ll have my fix.
