Undergraduate Insights

May - Caleb Schwartz - Riding Together Lessons from the Peloton

I’ve recently been enjoying tuning in to the 2025 Giro d’Italia. While it’s not great for getting enough sleep, I thoroughly enjoy seeing the scenic green countryside and the general beauty of the host countries. It’s also made me reflect on the parallels between elite cycling and our journey as the AUASA committee this year.

Last week we hosted our first major event of the year, Agtivate Your Career. Seeing it all come together, and receiving such generous feedback from students, speakers, and sponsors – who graciously support the event – was incredibly rewarding. In hindsight, it felt a lot like a stage of the Giro: a team moving in sync, breakaway riders stepping up when needed, and sprinters delivering right on cue. Everyone had a role, and because we played to our individual strengths, the collective result was far greater than the sum of its parts — 1 + 1 didn’t just equal 2.

No one wins the Giro alone. The effort of staying out front all day, exposed to the wind, is too great. So, the peloton forms. It’s a dynamic system built on trust and mutual support. Some riders pull others forward. Some conserve energy in the middle. Others set up the sprint. Each action is guided by strategic thinking and a shared goal that’s bigger picture than any single stage. Similarly, our committee's strength this year hasn’t just come from individual effort – it’s come from the mix of personalities, perspectives, and quiet contributions. That’s what makes it work. That’s what makes it fun.

On the night of Agtivate, there was a lot of discussion about our futures – what we hope to do, and more importantly, why we want to do it. Scott Pape shared something recently that really stuck with me. In his weekly Barefoot Investor email he reflected on the retirement of Warren Buffett, quoting his idea of happiness: “Find a job that makes you want to tap-dance to work every morning.” That’s the kind of career we all hope for – not just one with a title or pay slip, but one with meaning.

In that sense, the event wasn’t about job offers. It was about conversations, inspiration, and the light you see in someone’s eyes when they talk about what excites them. Purpose doesn’t arrive in a contract. It grows when you’re curious, challenged, and surrounded by people who make you better.

Not everyone in cycling gets the glory. Some riders sacrifice their own ambitions to help others win. They climb, they shield, they lead – and then fall back so a teammate can shine. It’s the same in life. We’ll each face our own climbs and sprints, and we won’t win every stage. But real success comes from knowing when to lead and when to ride in support of something bigger than yourself.

So maybe that’s the biggest lesson the Giro, and our committee’s journey so far, has to offer – success isn’t just about where you’re headed. It’s about who you’re riding with. And when the right people are moving in the same direction, with shared energy and purpose, that’s when 1 + 1 equals much more.

April- Angus Stuart - Finding my Place in Agriculture, From Suburbia to Soil

Can someone who is raised in suburban Adelaide truly find their place in agriculture?
It’s a question I have asked myself more than once. I didn’t grow up moving cattle or operating machinery during harvest. But perhaps that’s exactly why I’m drawn to the industry. I don’t believe agriculture is just about where you come from; it’s closely related to your willingness to learn, adapt, and overcome.

My agricultural journey began at Westminster School, where I was fortunate to be part of a highly active and comprehensive Agriculture program. From Year 9 onward, I had hands-on exposure to the fundamentals of farming—livestock, cropping systems, and soil science—developing my understanding of agricultural systems. What began as a subject to be completed quickly became a passion, thanks to the program’s practical, real-world focus.

That passion led me to enrol in a Bachelor of Agricultural Science at the University of Adelaide. Now in my first year, I’ve already experienced the step up from school to university—not just in content depth, but in learning style. There’s a strong emphasis on self-directed study and applying knowledge to complex, real-world scenarios. Big questions, such as how can producers sustainably manage water resources in the face of increasing climate variability, are themes of discussion.

One of the most eye-opening aspects of the course has been the diversity of student backgrounds. While many of my peers at university come from farming backgrounds and have first-hand experience with property and crop management, I bring a different perspective—approaching the agricultural challenges upon us today with a problem-solving and research-based angle. This may have been influenced by my science studies at school rather than the practical upbringing of others.

This contrast is exactly why I believe agriculture thrives not on uniformity, but diversity. From Waite to Roseworthy to North Terrace, our course combines science, economics, business, and sustainability. It’s not just about production—it’s about understanding how and why systems work, and how we can improve them.

Sir William Albrecht said, “Soil is the capital on which all agriculture depends.” Learning to assess and manage soil health, understand pasture systems, and apply sustainable practices has been a highlight of the course. It has confirmed my belief that the future of agriculture relies not only on experience but also on innovation and knowledge-sharing.

In addition to this, one of the most common questions asked throughout the cohort is, “Will you go back to your family farm?” While understandable, it can make it difficult for students to see the wide range of other opportunities in agriculture. I believe it is important to encourage fresh thinking and not just stick to the ‘norm.’ This challenges traditional pathways and encourages the fostering of innovation to unlock the full potential of emerging practices.

So, what do I bring to my course as a ‘city kid’? Maybe it’s a fresh set of eyes. Maybe it’s the ability to communicate between the paddock and the plate. Or maybe, it’s simply a passion.

As I look into the future in agricultural consulting or research, I keep coming back to a quote from Norman Borlaug, ‘father of the Green Revolution,’
“You can’t build a peaceful world on empty stomachs and human misery.”

Agriculture is more than an industry. It’s a responsibility—to the land, to its people, and to the planet.
And that is why I believe I’m here.

March - Caleb Schwartz - Passion and Commitment - A Recipe for Success

The University offers a summer school Science Experience subject which involves the opportunity to tour Southern Queensland. It provides a very different learning environment to what we otherwise experience, and it’s one that I found extremely effective. The assessments for the subject were centred on drawing comparisons between production systems and thinking critically about them, and with this in mind, it was a fascinating week. It was great to see the differences in climate, farming systems, and to stay in a range of towns and hotels and see what they had to offer – particularly enjoying a good steak at each (as the Uni was paying).

As university students, we’re often asked what we plan to do once we finish, and there was a lot of talk along these lines on the trip. This was centred around whether students would consider a job in the areas of Queensland visited—seemingly with its riches in irrigated cotton, productive horticulture, and extensive cattle operations. It’s a well-meaning question but feels impossible to answer with certainty. At a recent KLR Marketing course, I was introduced to one of their principles: “Know and understand yourself.” It was fascinating to reflect on this in relation to these questions, the production systems, and how they may have resonated differently for different people due to their unique perspectives.

An example that comes to mind occurred on our first visit. The speaker asked what made us pursue a career in agriculture, and with no one providing a definitive answer, he suggested it might have been for the money. This certainly wasn’t my motivation to pursue this career path, but the question was thought-provoking.

While in Queensland, I found a second-hand copy of Wayne Bennett’s book Don’t Die with the Music in You. Bennett uses a wonderful array of quotes, including, “It’s not about what you say, it’s about what they hear.” I think it’s a reminder that learning isn’t just about accumulating knowledge; it’s about how we perceive it and apply it. Growth will occur when we question our assumptions and stay curious.

Later in the trip, I found myself in conversation with a cattle producer. He asked, “What excites you about agriculture?” I realised that this is the answer to the question about post-Uni plans. The answer isn’t a job title or a location – it’s what will have us jump out of bed in the morning. Something that has us fully engaged, asking questions, and thinking deeply. Passion isn’t a destination; it’s a feeling. And perhaps, if we chase that feeling, the rest will fall into place.

Thinking about a metaphor I once heard of the hen and the pig: in terms of bacon and eggs, the hen is involved, but the pig is fully committed. I think it’s another essential question we all face – are we just showing up, or are we fully committing? The real challenge may not be discovering what we love; it might be having the courage to pursue it wholeheartedly.

February - Caleb Schwartz - Agricultural and Educational Ecosystems

Many Agricultural Science students spend their summer break ticking off some of the required internship hours and earning some pocket money to help see them through the year. I have thoroughly enjoyed doing this working alongside a previous Agricultural Science graduate nearing the end of his Entomology career. The work has involved assessing vineyards for pests and diseases, and it has been a privilege to hear his great knowledge in identifying species and their roles within the ecosystem. It’s taught me to really appreciate the power of observation as well as curiosity.

It’s been interesting to view the parallels between us – from both ends of a career and to hear how the Ag Science course has changed in that time, and what has remained. It’s been a pleasure to hear the stories about the relationships formed through these tertiary years and how quintessential they are to the journey. People will often talk negatively regarding the cost associated with going through university and renting or boarding in Adelaide, and I think this is a reductionist view that undervalues these relationships. The experiences and opportunities gained from these environments are worth far more than the financial cost.

I’ve recently listened to some of Ex-Navy SEAL, turned motivational speaker David Goggins who is quoted to have said, "When you’re in Hell Week, you’re all suffering together. You all come from different backgrounds, but you’re sitting in the same mud, dealing with the same struggle, and it brings you together in a way nothing else can." This reminds me of the university experience (however, certainly not as extreme). Bonds formed in the shared experiences – whether that’s an Agricultural Science Pub Crawl or the Navy SEAL’s Hell Week – are invaluable.

It reminds me of the way farmers experience the seasons each year, facing challenges that shift with time but remain fundamentally the same. Just like new cohorts of students sitting in the same lecture seats year after year, gaining wisdom passed down from those before them, farmers rely on generational knowledge, industry connections, and the lessons learned from their predecessors. These relationships are essential to the functioning of both education and agriculture.

As I prepare to head back to university for another year, I do so with a renewed appreciation for the network that surrounds me. Just as an ecosystem will function best when all its parts work together, the future of agriculture relies on our willingness to learn from each other. We are not just individuals pursuing degrees—we are part of something much bigger, a system that depends on collaboration, curiosity, and the sharing of knowledge to thrive.

January 2025 - Caleb Schwartz - Comfortably Uncomfortable

Last year, I was fortunate to visit a station on the southern end of the Strzelecki Track. I was struck by the vibrancy of the people I met and the beauty of the landscape, which had been blessed with good rainfall. During my time there, I witnessed a conversation that got me thinking. We got onto the topic of fear and the station’s owner was asked about the fear he felt riding broncos. His response was that there really wasn’t much (I wish I could say the same). Instead, he said he would have a greater fear spending time in Adelaide. It made me reflect on my experience of starting at university, particularly early visits to the North Terrace campus, which the new intake of Ag Science students will experience in a couple of months’ time. There was an inherent level of fear associated with this – hundreds of students in lecture theatres, protests on the lawns, and a busy crowd of quite different people from those I’d grown up with.

I’ve enjoyed listening to the work of Brené Brown, a researcher renowned for her work on courage and its link to vulnerability. She is quoted to have said, “You can choose courage, or you can choose comfort, but you cannot have both.” This resonates with me reflecting on my transition to university, and really, into adult life. Stepping into the discomfort was unsettling, but necessary, and I’m very grateful that I did as I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the learning, people, and places that I’ve encountered as a result. Brown states that any act of true courage requires an act of vulnerability. Therefore, leaning into this vulnerability is likely a great strength. For many farmers this courage may be second nature, navigating dry times, mandates, and volatile markets. Comfort is alluring but rarely productive. The acts that feel most challenging will often bring the greatest rewards. My personal experience is that something good usually arises from vulnerability, and if not, it will usually make a pretty good story.

For an introvert these moments of discomfort can feel magnified. Yet, as Australian neuroscientist Allan Parker illustrates, introversion can also be a powerful asset. I recently listened to a podcast in which Parker reflected on how his introverted nature shaped his career as an international negotiator. He claimed that it equipped him to be an “astute observer and obsessive listener.” He stated, “Everything’s about timing, and timing is made powerful by observation and listening.” These skills became pivotal to his success.

Mindset coach Ben Crowe further builds on these ideas of self-awareness and vulnerability. He encourages people to focus on values over outcomes, emphasizing that being comfortable with discomfort allows one to remain present and authentic in uncertain times. “Courage isn’t about not being afraid,” Crowe says. “It’s about stepping forward despite that fear.” This mindset is probably especially transformative for both a student and in agriculture, where outcomes are inherently unpredictable. Whether it’s group presentations and exams or driving innovation, leading change, or rethinking management and systems, growth often arises from embracing discomfort and venturing into the unknown.

For me, the station visit was a reminder of the universal truth in Brown’s words: courage and comfort cannot coexist. It’s a challenge we all face, whether in agriculture, academia, or life. And while the discomfort of those moments may never fade entirely, the rewards—resilience, growth, and connection—are always worth the effort.