Page 35 of For Cowgirls and Kings

January 18th, 2025

“Men-Men,what makes a cow better than others?” Josh, one of my more obnoxious freshmen, asks, his brows pulled together in confusion.

I face the ring once more, taking in the various cattle lined out in front of us. Each of their coats are shiny and puffed out, they’re backs perfectly trimmed toward their tail, heads held high as their handler works to show off their best angles.

Every year I bring students to the Fort Worth Stock Show, something they work hard to gain a seat for through their work in and out of the classroom. As an agriculture teacher, the field trips aren’t only what make us unique, they make us lots of kids favorites. Real world experience is just as important as what’s taught in the classroom, especially if it applies to their interests. Most of my students, although interested, won't become agriculturalists themselves—even fewer in the cattle breeding world specifically. But if I can bring one kid to their passion, show them the way to a life full of something both meaningful and important, I’ll feel like I’ve met my purpose in life.

Even if most days I struggle with the motivation to do so. I love these kids, many as if they’re my own, but they cansuck too. Teaching isn’t all rainbows, it’s hard fucking work. The actual teaching aspects aside, planning trips and executing them, but also helping kids withlife—relationships, families, futures.I’ve become a second mom to many of my students, and I love it.

But it’s also an enormous weight of responsibility that can be smothering too.

And today I’m drowning.

“These are steers, Josh.” Dakota, a junior who thinks she wants to be a vet someday but never shows up to class on time because she prefers making out with her girlfriend in the hallway, chides Josh. Her tone is haughty, and not for the first time today, I fight off an eyeroll.

High schoolers are such know-it-alls.

“Well, Josh, this is a good class. Pretty evenly matched honestly—I wouldn’t want to be the judge. But he’s looking at a bunch of things when he’s judging them.” I lean back, pointing between the bars of the fence. “Some of the basics are simple. How solid and correct is their structure, or skeleton? How much muscling do they have? Is their body balanced? Do they move well or are they injured or structurally unsound? That’s more important in heifer classes or bull classes though.”

“Why?” Josh asks, leaning forward to get a better look at where I’m pointing. Genuine curiosity sparkles in his eyes, and I can’t help but smile.

“You want livestock that moves well, especially if they’re being used for breeding. That way they don’t get injured or something, when breeding.”

“Ew, cow sex,” Noah whines, and I sit up straighter looking over my shoulder at him, eyes narrowed.

“Remember what we talked about in Ag 101?” I ask, waiting for Noah, or anyone for that matter, to answer.

“If you’re not mature enough to use proper terms, don’t talkabout breeding.” Sasha bumps her shoulder into Noah, who shoots a glare at her with very little heat.

“Look Men!” Josh whisper shouts, the arena deathly quiet beyond our hushed chatter and the hum of a heater high in the ceiling.

I focus back on the arena, watching as the judge pauses in front of the row of contestants, before turning on his heel and stomping toward a young girl on the far end, her steer’s head hoisted almost above her own. I’m smiling like a fool before he even gets there, butterflies erupting in my stomach.

This is my favorite part.

The judge walks behind the steer, slapping it on the rump, eliciting a wave of cheers to fill the barn. My own students clap and holler, even though most of them don’t know exactly why. But that’s the magic of these things—seeing someone’s hard work pay off in a big way is damn near a high all its own.

“Did she just win?” Josh asks, his voice laced with excitement.

“Yes she did!” Sasha confirms before I have a chance, sharing in his joy. It’s a sweet gesture, and one of the many that make her one of my favorites. She knows I struggle sometimes, being“on”all the time.

I turn around, giving her a quick wink before facing the ring again, watching the next class file in.

“Next up, Angus heifers, open show,” the announcer states, his voice filling the arena.

The chatter of my students quickly rises, their excited voices moving to topics not related to cattle showing or school whatsoever. And normally, I allow it—if it’s not hurting others, and they’re still mostly present, it’s not worth the argument.

But today I need a little more quiet, a little more focus. We’re here to learn and I need their attention, even if everything else seems more exciting.

“Hey guys, focus up,” I say without looking over my shoulder. Most of the voices die out quickly, but Noah’s whiny voice continues to prattle on.

“Is it true that your parents are getting a divorce, Josh?”

Josh stiffens beside me, but he doesn’t take his eyes off the arena. I keep my face perfectly neutral, but my heart stutters all the same.

I didn’t know Josh was having trouble at home.

From the corner of my eye I see Josh shrug, but Noah leans forward, eager to continue his pestering. “I heard your mom stepped out?—”