My Lousy Garden

Should I be at all concerned that multiple posts lately have started with a confession? Well, this one will follow suit.

I paused during a leaf-fight with my boys on Friday and looked at our vegetable beds that resembled something from either Jumanji  or Where the Wild Things Are, and I realized something.

I'm a pretty lousy gardener.

I truly love the idea of growing my own vegetables. It is with great excitement that I lay in bed on cold evenings in February, dreaming of what we should try in the garden this year. I shuffle through seed packets at garden stores the way I did with baseball cards when I was ten. I begin tilling the beds. I get down on my knees and plunge my hands into the rich, dark soil, and I breathe in the rich smell of fresh earth.

I plan out where seeds and seedlings will go, place them gingerly into the ground with the help of my oldest son. We talk about the mystery and majesty of tiny seeds just waiting to explode and bring forth new life that can actually sustain our own. Yes, it's a bit heady for my four year old, but he humors me so that he can do one of his all-time favorite activities: digging.

The first few days or perhaps even weeks go fairly well. I water the right amount. I destroy any weed that dares spoil the beautiful black canvas that is a weed-free raised garden bed. The first sign of Cucumber beetles gets me out with my organic spray and I blast them like a gunslinger at high-noon. Okay, I admit that I may even make gun noises at times. I will not, however, comment on whether I ever asked a Cucumber Beetle if it "felt lucky, punk." Those records are sealed.

Then things start to go south. I miss a watering or two. Cucumber beetles invite their friends over for an all-you-can-eat buffet at the Coleman Family Garden. Leaves yellow. Plants droop. Bugs make swiss cheese of the large green leaves. In only the time that it took me to write these past few sentences, the weeds decided that they're taking over everything.

Then it comes time to harvest. Though we always enjoy many gifts from our garden, there is much left to be desired. Peppers look pathetic. Multiple tomatoes have cracks. There is powdery mildew on zucchini. Many of  the red potatoes look like marbles. There are zucchinis the size of small babies laying hidden under broad leaves. Beans hang from their poles looking as though they will burst from the pod any second.

So if there was some success, how did things also go so very wrong? It did not happen because I don't enjoy gardening. It did not happen because I have no idea what to do. It did not happen all at once.

I believe the main reason why my garden never lives up to my hopes is because I do not give it the conditions needed for optimum growth. All plants have essential needs to grow. They need water, sunlight, room, nutrients, and freedom from predators.

This is basic stuff, right? So why can't I give my garden what it needs?

The answer is that there are different needs for each plant and it can be overwhelming. While all plants need the same essential elements, where they differ is in the amount of each. They also differ in their tolerance for things like shade, soil temperature, and alkalinity. Where they are planted in relation to other plants as well as the spacing between rows is another factor. All of these things can significantly impact whether a plant dies, merely survives, or thrives. The rhyming stops now, by the way.

So, if I can name all of these conditions that must be met for my garden to thrive, you would think that my actions would reflect it, right? So where do I go wrong.

I go wrong when I see that there are too many different needs of all the plants and I do a one-size-fits-all regimen of watering, feeding, and weeding. I let minor problems develop into larger ones because I am too busy. Despite knowing that there are very different needs of all the different plants, and that I truly desire a variety of vegetables come harvest time, my practice does not reflect diversity, but rather a monoculture approach to gardening.

Ready for the pathetic part? I am actually surprised when I look at the produce and am less than thrilled with the results. I get frustrated with the plants and say that I am never growing that vegetable again. Yes! This really happens! I vowed no more onions and peppers of any kind because they were unwilling to produce what I needed, despite me not creating the conditions that they needed. "They're just too hard to grow, so I won't grow them." Stupid onions. Stupid peppers.

I want variety, but create uniformity. I dream big, but deliver small. I have good intentions, but pathetic practices.

And so...

As I begin a second week of exploring different learning styles with my students, my hope is that I am a better teacher than I am gardener. May I truly listen as they share what they are learning about how they learn best, so that I can help create those conditions that they need. May I realize that a one-size-fits-all approach to teaching will yield the exact same results that I see in my garden. May I realize that the time it takes my students to learn something will be as diverse as are the number of students in my room. May I know when to step in to assist, and when to allow them to grow in the direction that they need.

May I do all that I can to create the conditions for growth for each individual student in my class. May I never take for granted the privilege to witness the mystery and majesty of watching new growth before my eyes.