Amish America

A new baby

I just got nice news from Lancaster County--my harmonica-playing friend Abe is a father again.  Looks like little Elam got a new brother last Friday.  When I visited last month, I knew Sarah was pregnant, but I did not realize the baby would be due so soon. 

When Amish have children, many opt to deliver in the hospital, especially if it's a first child.  Others prefer home-delivery, assisted by midwives.  Advantages of home-delivery include a large savings in cost, and the ability to recover in less-traumatic home surroundings. 

Dorcas Sharp Hoover's book House Calls and Hitching Posts is a nice account of country doctor Elton Lehman's career among the Amish of the Holmes/Wayne County, Ohio settlement.  Over his 36 year-practice, Dr. Lehman delivered his fair share of babies in Amish homes. 

And not only--Lehman recalls one memorable child who entered this world a bit ahead of schedule--in the back of a Jeep on the way to the hospital.

When was school ever this much fun?

Amish school gets the job done.  At the same time, the kids have a blast.  After hearing about some of the stuff they get to do, I think I'm ready to re-enroll in fifth grade.

On Friday Daniel and Mary's kids had a spelling quiz (not fun), and made gingerbread houses (fun and tasty).  An excited Lizzie described an unfortunate scooter collision on the way home which resulted in the demise of Dorothy's house and some serious roof damage to Elmer's. 

Lizzie's remained intact though, and she encouraged me to pick off a piece of candy for myself.  I chose a purple gumdrop.

At school, the teacher employs a motivational system that keeps the kids interested and doing a good job.  They are awarded points as a group for completing certain activities.  One example has to do with singing and visitors.

Amish parents, who collectively fund their schools, make time to visit and catch up with the kids' progress.  Daniel plans to go this week, as a matter of fact. 

The kids explained that when visitors drop by they will take time to sing for them.  If the visitor approves, by saying 'good singing', they earn 10 points. 

By completing other exercises--reading tasks, for example--they can tally up points fairly quickly. 

On reaching 100 points, the children pop one of a number of balloons which have descriptions of different activities inside.

One of the balloons contains an activity called 'mix-up' day.  On 'mix-up' day, the school is split into two groups--grades 1-4 and 5-8.  Each student is then randomly assigned a different grade within their group.  He or she then does the work of that grade.          

Little Elmer got bumped up from second to fourth grade.  Dorothy was downgraded from fourth to first. 

One lucky student even gets the role of teacher, who herself becomes a student.  Lord-of-the-flies chaos then ensues.   

(I call it mix-up day, though something tells me this doesn't last a full day.  But I could be wrong.  I forgot to ask).

   

Another balloon activity is 'no time' day.  On 'no time' day, they turn off the clocks and have to guess when certain activities, such as mid-morning recess, begin and end.

The incentive to stretch and shorten time is obvious, and the kids do their best to thwart the teacher's sense of time.

Daniel explained how last time a couple of kids snuck a watch into the school.  The teacher was apparently aware of the watch, but never actually saw it.  The watch-keepers relayed the 'actual' time to the teacher.

School got out a bit early that day.   

Getting my kicks in Lancaster County, PA

Well, despite the inclement weather, I managed to get up to Lancaster County and to my friends 'Daniel' and 'Mary', where I'll be staying the next few days.  The last hour-and-a-half or so, from the PA line onward, was pretty hairy, as snow and ice accumulation made driving tricky. 

I pulled in late Tuesday night to Daniel's, happy and relieved to see the kitchen gas-lamp still burning.  Daniel sat at the table, playing with the youngest child, a 14-month old girl.  The rest of the tribe, save Mary, were already fast asleep. 

Daniel set me up in the basement, which sounds cold, but is probably the warmest spot in the house--that's where the coal oven resides.  Before hitting the hay, Daniel pointed out the large reserves of canned food the family had been going through that winter. 

Pickled cauliflower, beets, 'snitz', canned meat, and all sorts of home-grown treats lined a full wall of the basement.  Being February, a good chunk of the eatin' had been knocked out already, as evidenced by numerous empty Mason jars, but quite a bit remained.  Good, because I planned to be hungry.

Yesterday morning (Wednesday) my jobs were:  udder-cleaner and silage-sweeper.  I learned that some cows don't like me--or at least cows that haven't gotten a chance to know me, don't like me. 

More than a couple took kicks at my hands as I attempted to 'strip' them.

That sounds more exciting than it is--it's actually something like priming the pump, before the mechanical-suction milkers get put on.  A squeeze or two to get the milk going.  Or actually, I think it's more a pull.  Or maybe a combination of the two.  Daniel's son 'Tim' explained that cows are often a bit jumpy if they don't know you so well.  Well, I aim to make friends this week.  I will learn to strip you, cows.

Today I graduated to manure-sweeping duty, and also got to pass out food to all the hungry cows.  It was nice making them happy.  Some were impatient and tried to steal from the bin. 

While sweeping up manure, members of Daniel's family offered up encouragement.  'It's looking good Erik!', 'You're doing a good job!'  This significantly helped my self-esteem, and for that I am grateful.  If all else fails, at least I know I can sweep manure to a satisfactory level.

Daniel's 8-year-old son 'Elmer' and 12-year-old daughter 'Lizzie' then commandeered me to help out with their respective tasks, feeding the chickens and pigeons, and distributing milk-substitute to the calves. 

The youngest calf, a snow-white fellow just a week old, needed some encouragement.  We had to chase that little guy down and force his head into the bucket.  He really resisted, but once we got it in there, he gulped milk like that was what he'd really wanted to do all along.  Funny approach to eating.  Lizzie, who seems to make a pretty good boss, paid me with a Valentine's Kit-Kat bar after breakfast, saying I did a good job.

After some errands with Daniel, we headed back home and somehow I ended up plastered on the couch for an unplanned hour-and-a-half nap.  The 4am-and-up schedule takes a few days' getting used to.

On rising, I stumbled upstairs to find Mary and 'Bena', the oldest daughter, at work at the kitchen table.  Bena was writing a letter to a friend that had missed a social event the day before. 

Mary was busy at work with her prayer-covering.  She had earlier ironed it, and was now doing what she called petza--pinching, she explained.  This petza process, which requires a pick-like metal tool, apparently helps to maintain the Lancaster prayer-covering's distinctive heart-shape.

'This is probably something new for you,' said Mary.

'I've never worn one of those...yet,'  I replied.

Mary seemed to get a kick out of that. 

Interview Excerpt: An Amish builder on working moms, mortgages, and making car payments

One thing that I admire about the Amish is the value they place in maintaining a spirit of humility. 

When the idea comes up in conversation that the Amish are getting something right—for example, by the way that they live or the values they profess and adhere to--they are usually quick to deflect attention, reminding that ‘human nature is universal’, or that ‘we’re human too.’  They have their own problems and many seem to realize it. 

Yet at the same time, many Amish have strong convictions and ideas and don’t hesitate to express them.

In the following interview excerpt, an experienced Amish homebuilder shares a few ideas on home life, family, and money matters.

Workin' Out

‘For the most part amongst the Amish here, the women do not work out.,’ 'Marcus' explains.   ‘It’s frowned upon, and I agree with that idea.’

‘I build houses…all over the area.  And a lot of people, both husband and wife work outside the home.  And if they were satisfied with [it], they could really build themselves a house where they wouldn’t have to.’

‘You have both of them working, and they build a $350,000 house.  If combined they have enough income to build a $350,000 house, they would probably be just as happy with a $175,000 house, and keep Mom at home taking care of the kids.’

‘You know, no doubt in my mind that would solve a lot of the problems.  These kids come home, and I’ve been out there, I’ve seen ‘em.  These kids come home from school, there’s nobody there, they have too much idle time, and there’s nothing to do, and they get in trouble…’

‘Not all the people out there, because we build some small houses, you know, where people are scrambling to make ends meet...but then again, if people were more willing to sacrifice, instead of having two expensive vehicles out there, if they had the minimum they could get, and drive it ‘til it falls apart, instead of ‘til they find the next…’

‘And it’s a dead-end street, because you go out there and you buy a vehicle and you finance it and by the time you have it paid off it’s wore out, or people think it’s wore out.  And they trade it in, and refinance, and they always have vehicle payments.’

‘I think if people lived a little more conservatively, we’d all be better off…as a society,' Marcus summarizes.  'If Mom stayed at home, took care of the kids—less stress because they don’t have the big house payments to make, and lived in a little smaller house, but people tend to build a house as big as they absolutely can handle, and both of them have to work to make the payments.’

Stretched and strapped

‘Why do people build big houses?’  I ask.

‘I’ve built houses that were over half a million dollars, for people that borrowed every penny…yeah, they have the capital and they have the income to do it—the bank wouldn’t have given them the money if they didn’t.  But—two kids, three dogs.  They could have built a house, a real nice house, that cost $250,000.’

‘Why have all the stress of making the big house payment, when you could just as well maybe have, let’s say for example if you build a $250,000 house instead of a $550,000 house, and if you can make those payments, then make the same size payments—have that house paid off in five or six years.’

‘And then, instead of being strapped out for the next 30 years with these huge house payments—it just makes no sense.’

Pony Cart: the Amish ATV

Driving the backroads of Amish America you find yourself passing the horse-and-buggy in miniature, with little Amish pilots egging on their diminutive yet sturdy ponies, whipping across front yards or up the shoulder and down to the neighbor's, perhaps to collect a missing ingredient for the casserole mom is working on back at home.

Photo:  Randall Persing

The pony cart serves a useful function in certain parts of Amish society, allowing their 'owners' to practice the skills needed to handle an animal-and-wheeled-vehicle combination.  You don't see them in all places, but they tend to be popular especially in the larger settlements, places such as Holmes County or northern Indiana. 

To be honest, I am not sure if the presence of the pony cart is dictated by the local Ordnung, or more by a particular family's finances and/or sensibilities. 

In a sense, the pony cart is the All-Terrain Vehicle of Amish society--not that the pony cart can go just anywhere (though Amish youth may wish it were so). 

Rather, just as modern country kids tear around on their ATVs, the pony cart is a fun ride for Amish youngsters, and at the same time a fairly hefty expenditure--a luxury item that not all Amish kids will get.

Were I an eight-year old Amish boy, however, I would really be hoping for one of these.  The kids always seem to be having a blast.

'sheep cart' courtesy of Bill Coleman

Listen to Levi: Amish Children and Obedience

photo: Randall Persing Amish photography

If you were looking for a single book that explains how the Amish tick, you wouldn't go wrong with Amish Society by the late John A. Hostetler.

Although it's a bit dated, the reason I'd choose this one first, over, say  Donald Kraybill's The Riddle of Amish Culture is that it tends to take a broader view of the Amish, while Kraybill tends to be Lancaster-centric. 

Amish Society was the first book I ever read on the Amish and I am continually re-reading bits and pieces.

I thought I'd share a few  with you, like this bit on the kiddos:

 
'The relationship between authority and responsibility is learned very early.  Although the younger chldren must obey the older ones, the older children may not make arbitrary demands on the younger.  The four-year-old is expected to hand over his toy to a younger child if he cries for it, but in the absence of the parents the younger one must obey the older.'

photo:  Bill Coleman Amish photography
 

As an older brother, I must admit I've been guilty of 'arbirtrary demands' inflicted on little (not-so-little-anymore) Alex while we were growing up.

I find it fascinating that the Amish inculcate this hierarchy of obedience to elder siblings, especially when the 'elder sibling' may be a mere five or six-- and with an even younger sibling hoisted onto one hip while mom works on dinner.

Bonus:  With the little ones left in charge, do the Amish really care about their children's safety?  Well, of course.   Though it might not always seem that way...

Book Review: The Happening by Harvey Yoder

Today marks a year since the Nickel Mines School shooting.  Ten girls were shot.  Five perished.  Five lived on.  A community was rocked by an unthinkable loss.  The world watched and learned a rare lesson in forgiveness and grace.

 

'The happening' is the name local Amish attached to the event, and The Happening is author Harvey Yoder's attempt to reconstruct, order, and make sense of the goings-on of that day and of what followed.  Told from the perspective of a student shot that day, 'Rebecca Sue', the work weaves elements of a few girls' factual experiences into the story of an eighth-grader who, wounded herself, also lost a little sister that day.

Why is this a good read?  Shouldn't we move on, as local Amish have implored the media and onlookers to allow them to do?

Yoder has done an excellent job of respectfully telling a story that, as is evident from the telling, some have a deep need to discuss and detail and grieve over, but which others instinctively avoid engaging.

The Amish portrayed here are simply trying to repair themselves, the best they know how.

Much of the work is on that healing process.  Lessons are learned, by English and Amish alike.  Forgiveness is not something that happens one time.  The happening, in essence, does not necessarily refer to one day's events.  The happening is something that continues to happen. 

Nightmares and fear plague the families affected, and not just the ones directly affected:  "The teacher from the Crossroads School said she couldn't understand why one of her third-grade girls did not want to go to the blackboard to do her lessons like usual.  Then she remembered the girl is Miriam's cousin and realized that she's afraid to turn her back to the school door.'

All this underscores something that should be obvious by now:  the Amish are living, breathing human, just like the rest of us.  They forgave--and yes, it was quick--but it wasn't a one-off thing, and it certainly wasn't easy.  They had to do it over, and over, and over again. 

Over time, all the same questions anyone else would have popped up in their minds--they whys and the wondering and the regrets.  Christian teachings of acceptance and faith temper the emotion.  Some feel deeply for the one who caused all their pain, as Rebecca Sue's brother Benuel says:  'For me, I sorrow most of all for Mr. Roberts' soul.  I think of the terrible place where he is now.'

Did the event open the Amish up to outsiders, and vice versa, as some have said has been one unforeseen blessing?  Yoder finds evidence for it here.  A local officer who carried the wounded out of the school that day describes the unity while visiting with Rebecca Sue:  'There were no differences between us.  It did not matter who was Amish or non-Amish.  We were all one, trying to pull ourselves together.'

One year on, the community continues to mend.  Books on the happening were to be expected;  this is one of at least three that have been published so far.  Hopefully this will be one that keeps the lesson of forgiveness alive, and that helps some to continue to heal as well.  As the people in this book discover, holding it in may not be the best way to deal with it.  Going over it all again may just help. 

Rebecca Sue describes one episode of a kindly Mennonite woman's visit to her home, and her outpouring of tears, for the umpteenth time, over the loss of her little sister:

'It was then that I found out how healing tears can be.  Yes, I had cried before, especially at night.  I had cried tears that had bound me all up inside.  This time it was different.  Something opened up within me that day that I had not realized I had been holding back.  When, minutes later, my sobbing had almost stopped, I think the first thing I realized was that the weight inside me was gone.  I heaved a sigh of relief--a great, huge, shaky sigh.'

Get the book at Harvey Yoder's site, harveyyoderbooks.com.

Back to School

The nine-year-old daughter of my friends 'Aden' and 'Elizabeth' invited me to visit her school last Monday.  I couldn't pass that up.  Elizabeth and I walked up a few minutes beforehand;  'Naomi' was already there, so not to miss out on the half-hour of playtime before the first bell.

A vigorous game of six-square was in session when we arrived.  The kids let me join.  We played til 830, when the teacher rang for the kids to come in. 

School began with a prayer in German and then two songs in English. The songs were catchy and had an uplifting spiritual message.  Elizabeth shared her songbook with me as we sat on a bench in the back of the classroom.

Elizabeth had let me know on the way up that I was to be the guest speaker of the day.  The kids got a quick lesson on Poland and learned a few words in Polish.  It went over well.  They were a well-behaved, attentive bunch.

The first subject on tap for the day was math.  The teacher summoned each grade to the front, where they sat in front of her desk and reviewed their lesson.  Meanwhile, the other grades worked diligently at their desks.  She had to hustle towards the end but finished up with the eighth graders just in time for recess.

Amish schools are simple and functional.

They generally are one or two stories, often including a basement, and have playground equipment, usually a softball diamond and swings. Bathroom facilities are outdoor, segregated by gender. 

But there is no standard blueprint for the Amish school.  Steven Nolt and Thomas Meyers in 'An Amish Patchwork' point out some variations in Indiana schools.  They range from very austere structures, resembling glorified sheds, in the ultraconservative Orange County settlement, to big brick 'mega-schools' among the Swiss Amish of Allen County.

In Orange County, you will find no softball diamond, see-saw or swings outside the schools.   No telling what children there do for recess.  Tag?  Hide-and-seek?  No recess?

 
And why are Allen County schoolhouses about double the norm of typical ones?

Nolt and Meyers say this resulted from an arrangement with local authorities to provide bussing.  I've seen some of these Allen schools and they remind one more of the 'mini-factories' or warehouses some Amish industrialists have on their properties.  On certain issues the Amish have proven to be a very adaptive people and this is a good example of that.

Softball was fun.  The kids play hard.  They choose different teams to prevent rivalries from developing, but they still go at it.  And there are some sluggers out there, girls and boys alike.  I got pitching duty and got pummeled. 

One of my first pitches was fouled off, rocketing into the busy thoroughfare that runs past Naomi's school.  Had a car been traveling by at that time, it would have been out a windshield.  Wonder how often that happens.

My morning ended at that, and Elizabeth and I headed home.  Amish schools generally get good marks, and if this little visit was any indication of how they usually run, I can see why. 

The children were well-disciplined and the teacher maintained order as she worked through the material.  The kids get the basics and very few frills, but in Amish society, that seems to do the job pretty well.

Safety issues

I dropped in on Safety Days today, held at the Mount Hope Auction yards.


Most of the hundreds in attendance were Amish.  People slowly filed by educational booths promoting early learning, fire safety, and eye care.  One fireman admonished listeners to 'label their liquids' since children could not tell the difference between potables and more lethal liquids such as kero or diesel.

Besides the useful information, parents and kids could pick up freebies which included suckers and tootsie rolls.  The highlight of the evening was an 'educational mock crash' which was meant to involve a tractor and a lifeflight.  Unfortunately I had to leave just as the crowd was gathering to watch. 

Once of my few criticisms of the Amish is that with such large families, toddlers and crawlers are often left in the care of brothers and sisters sometimes only a few years older.  Little kiddos, accustomed to hanging around dad in the shop, can hurt themselves pretty easily with tools and horses and barbed-wire fences around.

Farm life, especially, can be tough.  I remember watching a little girl trundle around barefooted on a rusted, sharp-edged tin roof this summer in Pennsylvania.  Would my mom have let me anywhere near that type of situation?  No chance.  As one Lancaster farmer put it, quite frankly:  'the farm is a great place to raise a family.  But it is a dangerous place'.


It's not that I think Amish are intentionally negligent of their kids' safety.  I think that, especially on farms and in big families, it's just one of those things that is accepted as a part of life.  In any case, it was nice to see so many people interested in the event tonight. 

Men in the schoolhouse

Male teachers are a rarity in the Amish schoolhouse.

Primarily an occupation for young unmarried women, one father, ‘Robert’, estimated that there were only about a half-dozen male teachers in the Holmes County vicinity, out of approximately 170 one-room schools.  A quick count in the 2005 church directory actually turned up closer to 20, but with many schools having more than one teacher, males still account for only about 6% of the total. 

 

Robert's kids attend one of the few schools taught by a male.  Other parents whom I spoke with seemed to be pleased with this particular teacher. Robert said his boys have a blast on the softball field with him.

But the main reason probably has to do with his experience, being his fifth year of teaching. More experience of course means fewer problems and challenges that the school board, (which consists of local parents) and the other parents would have to deal with.

 

Young women typically will teach for a couple of years before getting hitched. Marriage and the demands of home usually put an end to teaching.

 

I’ve always had the impression that if you can get a male teacher, you take him, rather than a young girl or an ‘old maid’ as Robert, a former teacher himself, put it to me. (in the non-PC Amish world, terms like ‘old maid’ get tossed around all the time). Also a non-PC practice, you end up paying more for a male teacher, especially if he has a family to support.

 

Non-material rewards

Why teach in a one-room schoolhouse? Probably for the same non-material reasons teachers anywhere take up the occupation. Robert acknowledged that it’s not an occupation for everyone, but that ‘when you see the light go on in their eyes’ after trying to get them to understand something, it makes it all worth it.

 

I asked Robert how he managed eight grades in one room. He said you can usually get the older ones going on an assignment while you devote more attention to the younger ones. The first and second graders require the most work; you have to get it right with them or otherwise you’ll have ‘stress all the way through’. Trying to handle so much at once causes time to really fly, he said, and you have to hustle to get a lesson done before the next recess break.

 

How do the Amish react to the idea of outsiders teaching in their schools?  Teachers are almost always from the community. Occasionally a Mennonite person or, very rarely, an English person may teach.

 

I was asked last summer if I would consider teaching for a certain Indiana school which was having a tough time finding someone in time for the start of school. One of the fathers was going to have to cover in the meantime. After speaking with Robert, now I kind of wish I’d taken them up on the offer.

 

Earlier this week I had the chance to visit an Amish schoolhouse and observe classes.  I also pulled pitching duty for softball at recess.  More on that in the next post.