9021-NO!

Our final destination was Newman, Calif. As I would learn, Newman was a small town on the west side of the San Joaquin Valley. Driving to Newman, I couldn’t help but notice the endless rows of crops, miles upon miles of chicken hatcheries and enormous plots of land with cows as far as the eyes could see.  

After driving for what seemed like a lifetime, we finally came upon a little residential area in the midst of all this farmland. Our van pulled into the driveway of a quaint home on a quiet street. I observed the manicured lawns and wide roads (which I later found out that they had to be wide in order to heli-vac out anyone who needed medical attention because the hospitals were too far). There were plenty of palm trees to satiate me and it looked like the California I would have expected, minus the beach. Of course, it wasn’t Los Angeles, but it was beautiful.

As we unloaded the van, I noticed that every house was a ranch style home. There weren’t any tall houses, buildings or structures. This peaked my curiosity so I asked my aunt why everything was so “low” to the ground. This is where I would learn that the homes were built to withstand earthquakes and I'd be given instructions on what to do at school during the “earthquake drills.” Earthquake drills? As if thinking you were going to live in the outskirts of Los Angeles and ending up almost five hours away in California’s Central Valley wasn’t enough to scare me, I was now horrified at the thought of experiencing an earthquake. 

On a cool Monday morning in February, I ended up in Orestimba High School. Some things immediately stood out, like the entire student body of Orestimba High School was about the size of my junior class back at NBHS. The campus was large and all the classrooms were air-conditioned, a luxury we didn't have in New Jersey. I was enrolled in all the basic courses and the guidance counselor advised me that I should sign up for the "FFA" which was a far cry from the “acting classes” I planned on taking.

The FFA is the “Future Farmers of America” and on my first day of school I got to see newborn piglets! The expression on my face probably said more than it should have, as the teacher and my classmates found it hysterical that I had never “handled” a pig. When they asked what types of animals I was comfortable with and answered "DOGS," they all laughed. Apparently, I was saying a word I had said my entire life wrong. "It's not DAWG, it's DAG" they jeered. This is when I realized, I had a pretty strange accent.

After the laughs died down, the teacher made sure I knew that the pigs were not pets, they would be our food and this was the beginning of some pretty exciting farming adventures for me.