Hooray! It's the start of another school year, greeted by hordes of bright-faced, eager citizens.

New students are flocking to colleges and universities about now, and higher education is a fine thing, as long as it doesn't get in the way of stuff you really need to know. But if you have been farming or ranching for longer than a week ago last Wednesday, you know that most of your knowledge didn't come from the classroom. Mostly, the smarts you use day to day were learned at Hard Knock U or the Try Try Again Academy.

Several land-grant universities have tried to set up courses in practical farming knowledge, with varying degrees of success. One problem is, most schools don't do a very good job of teaching common sense, which comes in handy if you're trying to make a living in rural America.

Maybe we could boil it all down into a practical curriculum; maybe even establish a College of Practical Knowledge, with a course catalog that looks something like this:

Basic Accounting and Finance. Elementary, intermediate and advanced accounting for livestock operators and crop farmers. Students will learn basic accounting principles, computers and accounting software and farm recordkeeping.

Graduates of the advanced course will be issued pickup trucks with two large glove compartments. Guest lecturers would include ag lenders, who will discuss the fundamentals of applying for farm loans; when a balance sheet is required; and when begging and pleading are called for.

General Science and Technology. An overview of major scientific developments having a major impact on agriculture in North America, including genetically modified organisms such as grain futures brokers and livestock order buyers; DNA mapping of farm lenders; and other relatively recent scientific breakthroughs.

History. This course would encompass the introduction of domestic livestock and improved crop varieties in the United States; the evolution of soil cultivation from the single-blade hoe to minimum-till corn planters; profiles of Cyrus McCormick, John Deere and Oscar Meyer; hybrid seeds and artificial insemination; and the establishment of major futures markets, which coincided roughly with Las Vegas and the multi-state Lotto.

Of course, the courses offered in a College of Practical Knowledge would need to be refined and expanded from this brief description. But this gets us started. However, until parents see how their children might do in this kind of horse-sense course of study, they might want to pay college tuition and room and board only on a weekly basis.

For years I taught one-room schools, and loved them. But I still think one of the hardest things about teaching a room full of different aged students was to know where to stop. There were just things kids needed to learn at home, from family and friendsÑor from life as they grew olderÑthat no teacher should try to supply.

A friend who referred to little kids as "Bufords" (and had several of his own), had a theory that the varied children in a one-room school and especially the "Bufords" were like muzzle loading cannons; you could "pour more powder and shot down 'em than they're built to chamber." I used to argue with him that to me, it was more like watering a garden where every plant got what it could use and what it couldn't wasn't wasted.

Nonetheless, I took his "Buford" lecture to heart, and came up with some rules to teach by; rules I hoped would work for boys or girls, bright or slow, small or large-kids from 6 to 14. They were rules, not for them, but for me. I still remember them and here they are for anyone who collects antiques.

1) Never say you know something if you don't, or say you don't if you do. Either way, the kids will catch you lying and show you they're better at it.

2) Avoid taking sides or having pets. You are the umpire, not a coach. Make sure everybody wins something out of a game, if only self respect.

3) Stay away from answers about anything sexual, racial, political, medical or religious, no matter how innocent seeming the question. First, these are not grade school subjects. Second, you're ignorant as a fishing worm about them. And third, the wily older kids are just trying to keep you talking until recess.

4) Always hide your own areas of ignorance, like not knowing how to whistle up wild turkey poults, noodle catfish under a bank, make dolls out of corn shucks, or tell someone is lying by checking for white spots on fingernails.

Never show ignorance of one-room school customs; rituals or old rhymes recited by girls, like "Marry too soon to the wrong mister, you've got fifty years to set on the blister." Don't show surprise at boys bringing squirrels to school to skin at recess. Don't show worry about knife games played with pig stickers as sharp as razors. Show no ignorance of moon signs. If anybody, little Bufords included, tells the home folks you don't believe in signs, you just flunked your "living" test.

5) Finally, if you don't know something, shut up and look it up. That's what you tell them books are for. Never forget that these kids are here to learn from you, from books and from each other. One of these days that third grade Buford may be taking out your prostate. For God's sake and yours, make sure he learns how to read.