
Bill Laney: A Life in Agriculture
FAYETTEVILLE, ARK. – Before most kids could ride a bike, Bill Laney was driving a tractor through a hay field. By nine, he was helping deliver calves alongside veterinarians. Decades later, that same grit carried him into adulthood.
At 65, he was teaching welding four nights a week, leading high school agriculture classes by day and building a house for his kids. The dirt he grew up working never really left his hands. It simply shaped the way he lives.
For Laney, some of his best memories are tied to the soil his great-grandfather once farmed. Those memories, and the values they shaped, explain why he still feels rooted in that land today. A well-known agriculture teacher at Fayetteville High School for more than two decades, Laney drew from the lessons he learned on his family’s 160-acre farm, land that has been in the Laney name since 1902 and shaped his childhood, his career, and the values he still carries today.
“It was a dairy farm two different times,” Laney said. “Jerseys with my great-grandfather and Holsteins with my dad. We also had 30,000 broilers on two other farms, and grade cows and registered Angus.”
“Hard labor my whole life,” he laughed.
That early rhythm of work became the foundation for everything that followed.
“It definitely gave me a work ethic,” he said. “I don’t know how to stop.”
He said teamwork and community were values ingrained in him early on.
“I’ve never thought of not working or doing the extra, because you know how hard it was for them,” he said. “You want to make life as easy as you can for your family.”
But those childhood lessons didn’t just shape his work ethic – they still show up in the way he lives today.
“We didn’t have a whole lot growing up, so we produced what we needed,” he said.

“Our whole family came together to make sure we had food,” he said.
Each year, he puts up nearly 300 quarts of homegrown produce, not counting the stacks of frozen vegetables in his freezer.
He laughs about the difference between the 30,000 broilers he once helped raise and the small flock of laying hens he keeps now. Now, in retirement, he says his farm today is meant to be a true hobby farm.
He began teaching at Fayetteville High in 1988 with just 50 students.
“Two weeks after I was hired, they told me if I didn’t build the program, they’d close it,” he recalled.
So, he started recruiting, adding classes, and showing kids agriculture could be a path for them.
“Today, in 2025, we’ve got four teachers and almost 500 students,” Laney said.
“Through teaching, I get to help students achieve things they never thought they could,” he said.
He especially loves seeing confidence click into place.

“I get a kick out of those kids who don’t think they can do something,” he said. “Then you show them how, and they end up finding a career or a passion.”
Laney’s lessons are rooted in real experience.
“I’ve experienced almost everything I teach,” he said, “so I’ve got lots of hands-on stories to share.”
Sometimes, he added, it’s not about content but character.
“Sometimes kids need to hear it plain. They need to learn responsibility, work ethic and how to help people out,” he said.
That connection between experience and impact is something others notice, too.
“When an ag teacher is involved in farming in any way, it opens doors for students,” said Christopher Estepp, associate professor of agricultural education at the University of Arkansas.
“It gives them hands-on experiences, places to go, real things to see,” he said. “That’s what makes ag education powerful.”
Laney smiled when he talked about former students who’ve gone on to agricultural careers.
“I think I have 15 former students who’ve become ag teachers,” he said. “A lot have gone into agribusiness, horticulture, animal science and food science. Kids from Fayetteville High have really spread across the agriculture board.”
The Fayetteville High agriculture program now offers classes in agribusiness, plant science and horticulture, animal science and veterinary medicine, and agricultural mechanics and structures — all giving students a wide range of opportunities, Laney said. He’s quick to share credit for the program’s growth.
“Can’t take full credit for it,” he adds. “The other teachers, Jimmy Frisby Jade Cameron and Courtney Smith, worked just as hard.”
“As far as Arkansas ag education goes, Bill Laney really is a legend,” said Estepp.

“He’s been around forever, seen it all, and stayed involved in every corner of this field. You can tell he’s one of those teachers who shaped generations of students.”
These days, Laney is back where he feels most at home, on the farm. He keeps a small eight-acre place with a big garden and laying hens for the family.
Life now moves at a slower pace: feeding chickens, tending the garden and spending evenings with his grandkids.
After decades spent pouring into students, slowing down feels strange but earned. Even as the land around him changes, he holds tight to what remains. “What I miss most is walking across the land my great-grandfather farmed, something about being on that same ground,” he said.
“What I’m most excited about is having time to garden and take care of everything again,” said Laney.
“Every morning, I make sure everything’s watered and fed, go to work, then it’s grandbabies’ time,” he said with a grin. “I never want to regret not spending enough time with my family over work. That’s what life’s about now.”
Laney has watched agriculture change drastically in his lifetime.
“My new little farm we moved to 21 years ago, I’ve seen hundreds, if not thousands, of acres turn into subdivisions,” he said. “We’re losing farmland left and right. You can’t blame the farmers, though. Somebody offers $3 million for 40 acres. What are they going to do?”
Still, he believes there’s a strong future for those who carry the same values he learned as a kid.
“Don’t care what you do or what you go into, have a work ethic,” he said. “Agriculture has so many career options other fields don’t.”
After nearly four decades in the classroom and a lifetime on the land, Bill Laney’s story truly comes full circle, rooted in the same soil where it all began. His legacy isn’t measured in acres or titles, but in the countless students and communities he’s helped grow: one story, one lesson and one harvest at a time.
“We all joked because every year he said it was his last, but this time he really means it,” Estepp added. “After forty years, he’s finally hanging it up. But the impact he’s had on ag education isn’t going anywhere.”





