Once upon a time, the school year started only after the raisin grapes were picked

I know, for most of us back to school happened in August. But I’m old and can remember back to school in rural areas was a moving target. For those of us in south Fresno County, it was all dependent on when raisins were being harvested.

Yes, raisins determined when school began. If the grapes were sweet, we’d start harvests near the end of August and school might start right after Labor Day. But some years when grapes ripened slowly, it could be the middle of September for back to school. In a way, education was all about being “local,” so even the school calendar took into consideration a sense of place. The families of farmers and farm workers were directly tied to rural harvest rhythms. There was no separation between the economic forces of farm harvests and the place of schools and education in our families.

My family fiercely believed in the value of education. My wife Marcy served on the Sanger school board and is currently on the Fresno County school board. If this were in the 1960s, she would be monitoring the weather and labor and keeping an eye on when raisins were to be picked. Can you imagine the complex communication strategies to inform teachers, administrators, parents and students about when back to school began?

(Remember, not everyone even had a phone in their homes. I can recall using “party lines” where our phone was linked to other subscribers — you could listen to other conversations and had to wait until their calls ended to make your call. It certainly built a sense of neighbors!)

You might think an educator would disagree — should a farmer’s grape crop be more important than school? But the opposite could be true. Bringing families out into the fields for a few weeks meant a crucial opportunity for advancement and income. Picking raisins was a process whole families could do together. Ask many old timers and they will have bittersweet memories of a job that the whole family could participate in and a division of labor that included kids — parents often picked the green grapes, another child spread the berries across a paper tray while a younger sibling spread the trays ahead of the picking team.

Child labor laws now restrict the age of children working in the fields. Sadly I’m sure there were cases of exploitation and forced labor situations that were exploitative and not right. But many families understood the value of hard work and the opportunity to make a few more dollars during this crucial harvest time.

As the child of a farmer, we didn’t have to abide by labor laws — we were the employee and the employer. So going out to pick raisins didn’t violate regulations. Besides, when your parents went out to work at sunrise you wanted to join and help them. I’m not sure how much I contributed though, I was often distracted by lizards or spider webs. I can remember taking breaks and laying under a vine looking up at the blue sky through a canopy of grape leaves. And once in a while a wasp nest in a vine sent us fleeing and running away — then laughing when we didn’t get stung.

It was hard, dusty work. But since we were paid by the number of trays we picked, many could hustle and earn good money.

Today I wonder how work is valued. Too often we ignore the ways our food is harvested and how families struggle economically. In some ways, picking grapes became a life lesson about how to get out of the fields and a motivation to go to school. Education became the ticket for many to leave the world of farm work. For some, picking raisins added to a simple college fund for some kids — begin at a community college and if things worked out, you advanced to a four-year institution. It was our valley’s version of a 529 college saving plan.

Beginning the school year late as in September meant the end of the school year in June was also extended. This became a life lesson for all of us, a moment when farming and education systems were part of the same community structure. Both mattered.

But by the time my children attended school, this tradition was long gone. I think they were happy not to have to stay home and pick raisins. (Although they sometimes could work on weekends and after school).

I enjoy valuing how family, work and education all were folded together: they were part of our daily farm life rhythms. Of course, educators like my wife Marcy and the school boards and administrators of yesteryear had to struggle getting the word out back then. No cell phones. No texting. Just word of mouth. And dust everywhere. And the sweet scent of grapes drying into raisins.