Dear Class of 2020

Our 2019 annual report was titled, “Unprecedented” and throughout the publication, we
told the story of how the year was unlike any before, because of a 100-year weather event.

We might want to use that title again for 2020.

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While this is being written, our teams are running full bore to get seed to planters, fertilizer is being spread, burn down is taking off; all of this is being done to support farmers who are taking advantage of a few warm, dry days. Our work is essential, and it continues.

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But we’re not blind to the fact that there is a special group of people who are adjusting to a new normal brought to us by COVID-19.

Hey, Class of 2020: We see you.

You’re disappointed.

You’re disappointed because all the milestone events in your final year of high school are likely not going to happen.

No prom, FFA banquet where you pass the gavel, or senior awards program. No last time hearing your name announced on the baseball field or final dash around the track. Even county and state fairs hang in the balance. The rite of passage events that everyone else has experienced for generations are being sacrificed for safety and that is what makes this catastrophic event so heartbreaking for the Class of 2020.

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Hey, Class of 2020: We see you.

You’re lacking closure.

You’re lacking closure because one day you left the high school excited about an early spring break and expected to return. You expected to still have the opportunity to say goodbye to your favorite teachers, your FFA advisor, your old bus driver and the counselor that helped you complete approximately 99 scholarship applications. You didn’t clean out your locker, or turn in that senior English assignment that was to determine your final grade. You didn’t say goodbye to anyone or anything. You didn’t stand in the shop, the library or the gym one last time and take in that smell of a special place where you spent so many hours. Chapter 12, the very final chapter, of your favorite book has been ripped out and you’ll never get the ending you envisioned in your head.

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Hey, Class of 2020: We see you.

You’re feeling anxious.

Oh, we understand that feeling. This global event has left each of us with more questions than answers. We, too, wish we knew when it was going to be over and life could go back to normal. But remember, you’re used to chaos. In fact, you’ve always grown in chaos. You were born into an unstable world right after September 11, 2001, and in a few months, you’ll move out into another one. New classes, new buildings, new teachers, jobs, friends, advisors, trade school, responsibilities, and schedules.

You’ve got this. You’re going to do great.

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We strangely feel the disappointment right along with you, as we know how important deboo scholarshipthis year of life is. In fact, one of our favorite parts of spring is attending many senior
awards programs and giving scholarships to some awfully deserving ag kids. We’re going to miss saying, “Congratulations” and shaking those hard-working hands this spring; the certificates will have to be mailed.

Hey, Class of 2020: Your graduation, season-ending game, last state FFA contest or final week of high school may look different, but we see you. And by the way, we see your parents and grandparents during this time, too.

 

Barfield Fuel Up

From a local business embedded in dozens of rural communities, we’ve watched you
grow from ornery, curious toddlers who would ask a lot of questions, to awkward pre-teens who ate all of our popcorn at the ag centers and today you’re confident and capable. We’re proud of all you’ve done and all you will go on to do. Do not let this unpredicted turn of events put out that fire for the future that you feel right now.

 

 

 

Let it burn. Keep it bright. Charge ahead.
We say with great confidence that the best is yet to come.