I have been very neglectful of this blog!

It has been a busy time with my classes starting up again. I'm taking two classes - one a Master's Seminar on 19th century American women writers; and the second a class in creative writing.

Paul has finished his freshman year as a wrestler - he has a good record 16 wins and 7 losses. He missed a couple of matches due to an elbow injury, but it is better now.

Last night, we went to the annual Labor Auction, a fundraiser for the Future Farmers of America.
He was bought for $100, a little above the average, which seemed to vary from $60 to $90. Often, the parents or grandparents were bidding on the student, and sometimes they bought up to $120 or so. It was a lot of fun, as the auctioneer has been coming to the auction for years, and knows many of the families. He jokes with the students and the ag teacher. He asks each student what they do best, once in a while a student, usually a boy, will tell him his speciality is underwater basket weaving; generally, they say they can drive a tractor - the auctioneer asked this kid if there was anything hooked to it, or did he just drive one around in circles, just simple jokes like that.
One girl said her speciality was gardening, and the auctioneer confused her to the point that she said she raised vegetables like tomatoes, and they had fun when she realized she mis-spoke and tomatoes are fruits. But he was kind to a mildly retarded kid, and he didn't rise to the bait, like when one kid said his speciality was "stealing girlfriends."

Paul got up and said he could throw hay bales, and the auctioneer said that he was surprised that a kid would admit to being able to to that. Maybe that's why he brought so much :)

In any event, I remain surprised in today's age that kids would agree to a labor auction (used to be called a slave auction, but political correctness intervened). I will say that the one girl bought by her dad was pleased because she wouldn't have to do any work, but that doesn't say that she wouldn't have worked for someone else. Once in a while, the kid won't come, or can't make it, even though they have until the end of the year. Then, the FFA refunds the money.

I left, as I have in previous years, with a profound sense of hope for these young people.