In 1979, when Jami McVeigh entered his first year of college at the University of Oklahoma and Jamie Liston's disposable diaper bills skyrocketed, nobody could predict how these two Jami(e)s would cross paths and eventually join the agricultural education family.

Night and day
     McVeigh's father was a carpet salesman, who moved six times before Jami graduated from high school. Liston was born, raised and schooled in Moore, Okla. Her father, Larry, was her agricultural education teacher, and her mother, Sharon, was her math teacher.
     She learned how to ride a bike in '82, when McVeigh's calloused hands grappled oil wells for a living. He was running top-secret missions as an Army Special Operations soldier from '83 to '86, when Liston colored, read books and fell in love with learning. 
     In '88, McVeigh, who at the time was an Oklahoma State University animal science student, watched Barry Sanders break the NCAA's single-season rushing record, while 10-year-old Liston received a green corduroy jacket with 4-H embroidery. In the '90s, Liston became one of the state's top agricultural students, winning FFA and 4-H contests across the nation. McVeigh owned a landscape business and sold real estate for most of the decade.
     In '97, McVeigh decided to go back to school, detouring away from the corporate life for good. Liston graduated from West Moore High School in '97, was valedictorian of her class and was on her way to fulfilling her dream of attending OSU. 
     McVeigh, 40, a husband with two kids, has absolutely nothing in common with Liston, 22, the All-American girl with an astonishing grade point average and the smile of a beauty queen. The two are as different as night and day with the exception of one thing: agriculture. 

The passion they share
     McVeigh recalls sharpening a peach-tree branch on his grandpa's grinding stone as his first memory. He ran around the farm, causing a ruckus with other youngsters.
     "You know, we were just being kids," he said. "It was fun. I have a lot of great memories on grandpa's farm — that's where my passion for agriculture originated."
     Liston's first thoughts are similar. After her grandfather harvested wheat, 4-year-old Liston climbed in the back of his truck and rolled around in the freshly cut bushels. For hours at a time, she and her brother, Brad, innocently wreaked havoc on future bread loaves.
     "That's where I first fell in love with agriculture," she said. "And now, I could never see myself doing anything else."
     The same can be said for McVeigh, only his road had a few potholes.
     "Ag has always been my passion; there's no doubt about that," he said. "But I was living a roller-coaster lifestyle with my own landscaping business. ... There was just no stability, and you had to depend on the weather all of the time.
     "I tried selling real estate and that was a change."
     In real estate, McVeigh no longer had occupational ties with his passion.
     "I knew I needed to get back into ag, but I needed a job that I could be with my kids more. I knew I was meant to be in agriculture, and I knew I needed something that was more flexible with more financial stability. I knew I definitely needed a change." 
     He chose agricultural education.

The shortage
     When McVeigh took classes with students Liston's age, he said he often thought, "Man, I'm old enough to be your father." 
     He said those classes with the 18-year-old freshmen were the best preparation he had prior to his student teaching debut at Washington High School. 
     "I didn't have the contact with young people as the younger students did," he said. "Kids are so much different today than when I was their age. I relate with them very little and the more exposure I get with them, the better teacher I will be."
      Liston, however, could relate to her Amber-Pocasset students. After all, she was Moore's 1996 FFA Sweetheart. 
     "I love being around kids and teaching them," she said. "The greatest thing is when one of them raises his hand and answers a question that you had just thrown out for discussion.
     "It's so amazing how anxious they are to learn. And they're full of surprises. You never know when one is going to say something that totally changes your day. You can see it in their eyes. They're all very, very special."
     It takes a special kind of person to be a teacher, too — especially in a competitive job market where only 63 percent of agricultural education graduates teach. The rest are attracted to more lucrative occupations. 
     For example, chemical salesmen — one of the more popular occupations for agricultural education graduates — can potentially earn anywhere from $30,000 to $60,000 in their first year out of college, making the teaching profession seem less lucrative. 
     Actually, agricultural education teachers receive a set salary of $35,000, which is $10,000 more than the earnings of a rookie general education teacher. Nonetheless, there is a shortage of 400 agricultural education teachers across the nation, according to an agricultural education supply and demand study.
     "Oklahoma has always been thought highly of as an ag education state, and we've never had a problem with a lack of teachers like the rest of the nation. But, this past year it's really gotten scary," said Eddie Smith, state FFA adviser. "There are just so many things that pay so much more. Granted, you have to work hard and it doesn't pay real well, but it's really rewarding."
     Just ask Liston. When she speaks of her students, she'll spout off a 10-minute description of each one, bragging about how smart they are and how much potential they have.
     "Students like Jamie are a rarity," said Bill Weeks, OSU professor of agricultural education. "If she could live off of it, I think she would probably do it for free.
     "Many have her desire to teach, but, unfortunately, not many people have her academic preparation. There are a lot of people who think they want to be teachers and they just can't hack it."
     To become an agricultural education teacher, a student must have a 2.5 GPA, pass a foreign language competency exam and a slew of teacher tests that cost $400. They also work 12 weeks without pay as a student teacher. Weeks said these requirements have resulted in fewer teachers being certified.
     "We don't need to lower the standards, however," Weeks said. "I would rather a program close because we don't have a teacher than keep it going by hiring a teacher who is not qualified."

The answers for tomorrow
     The future of agricultural education is in the hands of today's agricultural teachers, literally.
     "We now have a program totally dedicated toward the recruitment of tomorrow's ag teachers," Smith said, "and it starts in the classroom."
     Each year the Oklahoma Department of Career and Technology Education sends brochures to agricultural education programs to recruit students. A portion of the department's summer conference is dedicated to recruiting. Current teachers discuss which high school students would make good teachers and FFA advisers.
     "We mail them information periodically and call them year-round," Smith said. "We've got to start recruiting more heavily, because it's tomorrow's students — my grandkids — who will be without an ag ed program if we don't."
     Enrollment in OSU's agricultural education program is actually up, graduating anywhere from 50 to 75 annually. The problem is about half are not teaching and several teach out of state while the Oklahoma high school agricultural education enrollment has increased by 20 percent over the last three years. This gives graduates like McVeigh and Liston — agricultural education graduates who want to teach in Oklahoma — a tough challenge to tackle.
     "I don't know how all of my classmates feel, but I joined agricultural education to become a teacher, not a corporate saleswoman," Liston said. "I take teaching so serious because it's an honor for me to be my parents' peer."
     And for McVeigh, who's 18 years older than Liston and is entering his sixth occupation, the pride in the teaching industry is evident, too.
     "Teachers are the backbone of a community; they're people you can trust," McVeigh said. "When I was in business, I worked hard for that extra commission check. And I really didn't have that feeling of security like I do with teaching."
     As was Liston's, McVeigh's career decision was influenced by family.
     "I began this deal so I could spend more time with my family," he said. "But now I realize I'm something special. I'm an ag teacher."
     And that's one of the closest families in the world.

By Fred Minnick
Jones, Okla.