Voices for Education: Katie Mosman
- Katie Mosman
- Mar 23, 2024
- 5 min read
Updated: Mar 30, 2024
Out toward the end of Central Ridge, there’s a shed on an old homestead that looks like every other hundred-year-old building on the Camas Prairie. But inside, there’s a chalkboard, some old desks, and other evidence that the building once had a different purpose. Nearby, there’s a weathered wood sign that marks the former townsite of Steele. That schoolhouse is where my papa, Ray Mosman, went to school. His namesake, my brother, is the fourth generation on the family farm. Papa only went to school through 8th grade, and then he worked a neighbor's farm until he was drafted off the tractor to drive a tank in northern Africa and Italy during WWII (many farm boys similarly transferred their skills when called to serve, a different kind of beating plowshares into swords).
His wife, my grandma, Dorothy, was one of the most brilliant people I’ve ever known. She devoured books, curated an extensive personal library, had a near-photographic memory, and enjoyed tinkering so much that she fixed her own household appliances and many of our toys.
My grandma, Dorothy, was one of the most brilliant people I've ever known. She raised my dad and passed to him her lifelong love of learning, which he then passed on to me.
But life dealt her a rough hand. Her mom died when she was eight. Her father became an alcoholic and her stepmother was mean-spirited. Gram ran away from home at fourteen. With three young daughters, she was widowed at the age of twenty-nine. She later married Papa and together they added five more kids to the family, but her oldest son was killed in an accident at nineteen years of age. She carried a lot of sadness in her heart.
She raised my dad to be an incredible man, passing to him her lifelong love of learning, which he then passed on to me. School changed Dad’s life when he was sitting in a College of Southern Idaho range management class listening to a lecture on the benefits of pasture with native forage species and he thought to himself, “Well, all that seed has to come from somewhere.” And that one extracurricular class changed the trajectory of the farm forever. Now, anywhere I see Idaho Fescue growing, I can say with almost certainty that the seed came from our family farm.
I received an excellent education at Nezperce. My teachers were creative and passionate; supportive of students, and supported by the community. Even though all four of us kids worked the farm alongside our parents, I was heavily involved in extracurriculars (because learning is so much more fun when you get to use your hands). I went on to earn my Bachelor's Degree in Agriculture Science and Technology and a Master's Degree in Curriculum and Instructional Design. I met my wonderful husband in grad school. Today, I’m able to work from home while raising two young daughters.
I absolutely love my life, and none of it would have been possible without education. Now that I’m older and a parent myself, I find myself thinking about Gram a lot. Gram was certainly smarter than I will probably ever be. I was just fortunate to have better access to education to gain knowledge and skills. If Gram had been in my shoes, what kind of life would she have built for herself?
We can’t change the past, but we can build a better future for our kids. My grandpa on my mom’s side of the family, Dwaine Tesnohlidek, was an agriculture teacher at Fruitland for over 30 years. When he died my senior year in 2009, people at his funeral stood at the pulpit to share stories of his impact. Many former students talked about “Tess” and how he changed their lives. But one stands out in my mind with crystal clarity. He said, “I would be in jail like everyone else in my family if not for Tess. He believed in me when no one else did.” That was a catalyst for me and it drove my own career as an agriculture teacher.
Not everyone has great parents like I grew up with. Not everyone can escape from the circumstances they’re born into without a leg up. There are kids here in our community who want, desperately, to build better lives for themselves. Many sat in my classroom at GHS when I was the ag teacher. But how can they break the cycle if we continue to hollow out the schools, their best shot at a different life? And if they never get the tools to break free, how will that change the fabric of our community?
There are kids here in our community who want, desperately, to build better lives for themselves. But how can they if we continue to hollow out the schools, their best shot at breaking the cycle they were born into?
The world is changing. In Papa’s lifetime, the farm evolved from needing teams of horses and men to just a single tractor that covered far more acres more efficiently, and furthermore, used GPS technology to drive itself across the field. Change can be scary, but stagnation is the death of all. These advancements on our farm and the many other advancements in our community have been powered by robust education opportunities. Losing the schools would bring that progress to a grinding halt.
My work and my passion for strong schools and a stable, thriving local economy are the gifts I will leave my daughters and a tribute to the legacy of Dad and Gram’s influence on my life.
My youngest daughter, Isabelle, reminds me of Gram. Though only one year old, she is also a tinkerer and tenaciously seeks to understand the workings of anything she’s allowed to play with. She loves to sit and “read” books, even by herself. I can't wait to see what she makes of her life, and my husband and I will do everything in our power to ensure she has access to education and opportunities that will propel her to success as an independent adult. My work and my passion for strong schools and a stable, thriving local economy are the gifts I will leave my daughters and a tribute to the legacy of Dad and Gram’s influence on my life.
The Steele school closed, and it didn’t take long for the town to follow. I find that path unacceptable for our community and our children. I’m here to stand for our school, for the kids here, and for the local economy. Please, join me, do what’s right, and vote YES for the 244 levy.
If you would like to share your story as part of our Voices for Education series, reach out to team@244supporters.org
