Have you ever thought something was easy until you tried it? You may have looked down on the people who did that certain thing for a living or not appreciated them to the fullest. Well, I know I did, and it was all about perspective.

       It all started when my dad and I were having a friendly debate on which jobs were harder, a farmer’s or office worker’s. I pointed out that many people who worked in offices were usually overworked and mentally strained, also with their paychecks not equal to the stress they go under. My dad argued that farmers need to have a certain degree of physical skill and vast intellectual capacity. 

       How would farming be harder than doing something such as programming? Well, for starters, standing upright, brows furrowed, my father argued they need to figure out the cost of doing their job and the cost of living usually based solely on predictions for that year. They would have strong problem-solving skills as farming is a trial-and-error profession. They must have exceptional interpersonal skills, as a farmer would need to communicate with others related to their profession. A farmer would need to be able to adapt to their surroundings to grow crops; since adaptability is part of a mindset that requires immense intelligence, it would only make sense that a farmer would have this skill. Farmers must be able to organize their systems and crops properly or else it would affect their paychecks. There were many more points as to why a farmer must have exceptional intellectual ability and or capacity.

       I was baffled by this speech my dad gave to me, as I had not even thought about these skills that were nearly required to be a successful farmer. I couldn’t even impugn, but I still wanted to stand firm on what little of an argument I had even though I knew I was progressively shifting over to his side; because of what he had stated and the fact that he and his family were farmers in Albania and now he worked in an office, he had the chance to see the world through different perspectives, and he stands firm that being a farmer is a harder job than working in an office.

       Jaws clenched, speech rushed, we were obviously disgruntled, and we needed to calm down through an agreement. With that we decided to agree on a bet; I would stay in Albania for two weeks and work as a farmer with his parents, his siblings, and their children, who had been farmers all their lives. I could quit anytime I wanted if it got to be too hard for me, and my father would win the bet proving that he was correct, or I would stay and work while gaining new knowledge and altering my viewpoint on this debate. If I won it wouldn’t have meant I was right, but it would let me decide on which side I would take in this debate.

       I packed my bags and headed on a plane to Albania; the second I arrived there I could feel the sweltering heat and the bright, blazing sunshine admitting towards the open airport doors. The sun seemed like it was laughing in my face, taunting me. I knew that this was going to be backbreaking…

       As I walked out with my uncle to his motorcycle I could feel my skin blistering in the immense heat already. Although I was remarkably lucky to have a breeze provided by the vehicle cutting through the wind, I could still feel the sun rays coming down on me.

       Arriving at the gates of the house of my father I could tell my family was euphoric that I had come. The smiles on their faces were wider than the golden gate bridge. The feeling was mutual even though I had a looming sense that my dad was 100% correct. Then it dawned on me that I had forgotten how to speak Albanian; while I could understand everything, I knew I had to relearn how to speak it. Although this has happened to me on multiple occasions, for some reason, I felt this would only take a short amount of time, unlike the others…

       The next day started with me waking up to a roaring crow of a rooster; as I glanced over to the clock my eyes widened, realizing that it was six in the morning, yet the sun was already beaming through the curtains. Suddenly, my cousin burst into the room I was staying in and dragged me out of the bed, handing me a list of chores.

       As I quickly scanned through the list, I wondered, This is just for the day? As my cousin continued to speak I soon figured out that it was just for the day. I got dressed and headed out the door, dreading what I had to do next.

       I started to walk down the grimy dirt road, knowing that I would be exhausted by the time I got to the well as it was nearly four miles away.  As I walked down the road with fields of crops on each side, my hunger only growing, I started to think that this was a colossal mistake and that I should have stopped debating as soon as I heard that speech of my father’s. Suddenly, I saw the well, and as I ran to it I began to question why I had even taken my stance on the debate without seeing life through different perspectives. As I continued to run the fields never seemed to end, until I was there, my hands trembling slightly, my grip on the buckets loosening.

       I set the buckets down and replenished them. I was carrying the crisp, glimmering water and started on my journey back through the fields. The water seemed to sparkle as if there was glitter inside. My feet dragged against the ground, feeling heavier with each step I took. I arrived at the house, and I set down the buckets with an exasperated sigh, picking up the list and doing what it told me to do next. I reluctantly picked up the metal buckets and walked the short distance to the stables and poured the water into the sheep’s abreuvoir (where their drinking water is stored). I abhorred that I had many more things I still needed to do.

       I set out to the fields to turn on the sprinklers to water the crops; I was grateful that this was an easy task. Ankle throbbing, knees trembling, I looked down and saw that my ankle was cut, and that's when I realized I probably cut it on the metal wiring surrounding the switch to the sprinklers. I quickly ripped a part of my sleeve from an already torn shirt and wrapped it around my ankle. I knew I had to compress the cut and keep particles and bacteria from getting into it. Although it healed very well, I still have a small scar on my leg to this day. 

       As I limped back to the house I kept repeatedly checking my ankle to make sure that I didn’t bleed through the cloth. As soon as I entered through the door I sat down on the couch and unwrapped my ankle; I checked the wound, making sure I did not need stitches, and I thankfully did not need anything besides proper bandaging. After I wrapped gauze around my ankle and headed on my way to feed the livestock.

       I grabbed a bucket full of a mixture of seeds and corn and headed towards the chicken pen; I walked into the pen and started to throw the mixture toward the chickens. As they were fighting for their food I went through a small door and entered their coup; as I picked a basket and started to gather the eggs that had no chicks inside I heard a loud clucking noise coming from the outside of the coup. Two female chickens were fighting over food, so I quickly put the basket full of eggs down next to me and picked up the rest of the chicken feed and threw a little more towards them, then quickly grabbed both containers and left the pen placing both where they belong. 

       I had to feed the cattle after this; I brought hay into their part of the stable and set it down in a corner. As I did the same for the horses, donkeys, and sheep, I realized that it was midday already, so I headed back to the house, and I started to help with making stew and baklava for lunch. After we ate I immediately got back to the list of chores.

       Not even two days had passed since I arrived, and my entire perspective on not only my stance on the debate but also life itself had altered completely. I realized that I was extremely lucky to be able to have so many resources provided for me while people such as my cousin Stellá were not as lucky to have as much technology as I did. Even though previously I thought I was using my resources such as the kind of school I am enrolled in, technology in general, and nearly all the things people have provided for me to the best of my ability, I soon realized that I was completely wrong, and I made a promise to myself that next year (this year currently) I would try my best to make the most out of my education and take advantage of whatever tools that would be available and help further pursue my education, not just focusing on the grades I earned, such as last year. 

       As I snapped out of the trance-like state I was in while thinking about this, I noticed my name being shouted. My uncle was calling me to come to help him mend the tractor. I rushed over to the back of the stables where he was and handed him his toolbox; looking over to where he was, I noticed that the place he was working around was immensely rusted, so I told him to be careful. I stood there for over an hour, handing him tools and shifting things around in order to help. While this set me back on my chores I was glad I was there; even though nothing had happened, something easily could have.

       Running and dodging the herd of goats coming my way, I was taking the goats to graze in the fields. After that, I learned how to milk a cow. Soon the day was over, and the next two weeks involved the same routine.

       This experience altered my perspective; I realized that I shouldn’t have taken that stance on the debate without seeing what it was like to be a farmer. Perspective is a powerful thing; it can change the way people view the world, themselves, everyone around them, and everything in between. We should always try looking at the world from different points of view; it will always benefit us.

-Alba H.