The Planted Heritage

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Jump from page 7 “Biology’s philosophy is that we don’t want to take these things on and make the mistake of making it name only,” he said. “We want to make a good rigorous program that when a person graduates from here they can get a job or go to graduate school.” Lee said, however, that both departments are very different culturally, and therein lies a challenge. “Our culture is a pretty rigorous – or very rigorous in some cases – culture to get students into med school, so we might not seem like we’re very embracing of the ag folks even though we teach a lot of them,” he said. “Sometimes they can feel very overwhelmed when they come over here by our culture of pretty rigorous teaching, not saying that ag isn’t, but that’s the way it has to be here. Otherwise, our students can’t succeed if we’re not pretty tough on them.” Kennan, who has a biology minor in addition to his environmental science major, said the two departments differ significantly. “Yesterday, we had departmental Chapel with them as a sign of friendship, I guess you could say,” Kennan said. “But those students are systematically different. I’m not saying that

in a negative way. I’m just saying there’s a different culture.” Brokaw said he fears the university will have difficulty recruiting students. “There are a lot of Christian schools that offer biology programs,” he said. “So there is no uniqueness in them needing to come all the way to Abilene, Texas, for that.” Rhodes said he hopes preserving funding for some of the department’s traditions will help preserve its uniqueness. He said he thinks the students believe they are losing a community as much as they are losing a department and recognized the danger that that type of loss can present. “I think if we’re not careful, we lose an important part of who we are,” he said. “ACU Rodeo, the Wildlife Club, Block and Bridle; it is important to have those kind of department and cultural aspects to continue to exist within a new environment.” Kennan said he does not think the ACU Rodeo will continue after the department is closed, though. “That event will be done – unless a new group forms a club and takes on the responsibility of putting on a rodeo,” he said. “There will be no department to support it. I don’t think the biology department is going to put

on a rodeo. It’s an animal science thing.” This department was not just a home for living, breathing animals. It was a home to faculty and students that carry on living, breathing stories. Stories like S.N. Allen’s Stetson hat or Anabel Reid’s passion to bring pure water to developing nations. Stories that the entire university are a part of, like the ACU Rodeo, or the horses and horsemanship P.E. course. It’s these stories that the department’s community was built on. While the future of the degree plans, the faculty and all the nuts and bolts, are still foggy, it’s evident that both the university and the department hope these stories can adjust to a new life on the campus where they were born. “There is this phrase in environmental science,” Cooke said. “You’ve got three options when your environment comes crashing down and your habitat is falling apart: You can either adapt, you can migrate or you die. I’m ready to adapt.”

ROOTED HISTORY FACES UNCERTAIN FUTURE

ACU creative services contributed photos

Top: Students observe sow at Allen Farm. Right: Students bull ride at the ACU Rodeo, at least a 60-year-old tradtion.

On writing the story that wrote itself FROM THE EDITOR’S DESK VAGABONDAGE

SAMANTHAMADELINE SUTHERLAND ORR EDITOR IN CHIEF

When I started writing this story in November, it was just another assignment for class. I planned on turning in the required 750 words and hoped for a good grade. But over the next few weeks, the story began to reveal its depth through sources who wouldn’t talk to me and fading documents that barely could. On a Thursday, I went to the agriculture and environmental science Chapel. Walking into their classroom on the bottom floor of the Har-

08 The Optimist

din Administration Building, I knew I had entered a crowd I didn’t belong in, but at the same time, they made everyone there feel welcome. I was trying to meet the professors and the students in the department, hoping to write a little feature about the ACU farm or maybe the rodeo, but as soon as I mentioned the Optimist, no one wanted to talk to me. Not an uncommon experience. But what I wasn’t aware of was that over the past few days, hard decisions had

been made behind closed doors. I didn’t know the group I had targeted that morning was actually a single, living, breathing organism – with more than 70 years of history – that was about to be targeted by the very university they belonged to. The reason they couldn’t talk wasn’t because they didn’t want to. It was because they were told not to. I was seen as a nosy reporter, trying to break the news they knew was coming. All the while, I was entirely unaware. There was a meeting scheduled the next Wednesday between the provost and AES students to make the announcement about the proposal to restructure. Understandably, they didn’t want the Optimist to break

the news before they could tell their students. By the time I realized what was happening, I still needed a story to turn in for a grade, and still, no faculty or administrator would talk to me. That ‘s when I turned to the history. I dug through seven decades worth of newspaper clippings and photo archives about the department. I saw every story ever published about every stock show, new tractor and rodeo queen. I visited Rhoden Farm. I played with the farm dog. I talked to students about their classes and their animals and their quail-tagging project, and everything but the future of the department that had yet to be announced. The story began to tell

itself. I didn’t have to have quotes from the ones living it to see what was happening. The future of the department and the consequences of its closure began to become clear. This story was already over 1,200 words long before I even conducted a single interview about the news. This department has built a heritage and culture unlike any other department on campus. These students care about their vocation almost as much as they care about each other. Ag didn’t need me to write their story. They’ve been writing it for 71 years. I’m just the one who got to publish it.

Front cover: William “Bice” Jennings, animal husbandry major from Farmersville, plays with piglets at Allen Farm in 1953. For more photos and video interviews, visit www. ag.acuoptimist. com for a special multimedia edition.

A special section of the Optimist By Madeline Orr

contact orr at mco10b@acu.edu

Visit www.ag.acuoptimist.com for more photos and videos.


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