Because teachers are so influential in shaping the identities of their schools and yet are expected to work for relatively low pay, the board members we interviewed considered teacher recruitment the single biggest challenge they faced. Parents, too, spoke of their levels of satisfaction with the parochial schools largely in terms of teacher quality—whether the teachers were firm enough in dealing with discipline problems that arose, especially among the older boys; whether they had good Christian character; or whether they were pedagogically skilled.
While the magnification of teachers’ biographies in Amish schools probably does not pose a serious threat to cultural reproduction, it does have implications for curriculum and discipline. At one school we visited, for example, the teacher brought out a microscope and asked the children to view fragments of coal, a venture into the world of science that went well beyond the usual observations of nature in Amish schools. Another teacher had bought a battery-powered talking device from Staples to help her drill students in their math tables. Significantly, all Amish teachers we interviewed had retained some power to choose their own textbooks (Pathway, Schoolaid, and Study Time were popular ones). Some had chosen texts that provided more up-to-date examples of Amish life, while others preferred textbooks that they had used when they were students. “It works better if we have a uniform curriculum but not everyone sees it that way,” confessed a member of the Amish Advisory Committee, part of the “homespun bureaucracy” that oversees parochial education in the Holmes County Settlement.17 “We tried to recommend textbooks but it didn’t work.” The acceptance of some texts but not others by different school boards and teachers suggests much about how conservative and progressive Amish groups “draw the line between what is acceptable and what is not.”18
The leeway given to teachers also results in some variation in the degree to which religious teachings enter into the informal curriculum. Although the Golden Rule and other religious sayings are often seen on the walls of parochial schools, most bishops and school committee members recommend that religion be taught in the home and in church but not in school. One Old Order elder put it this way, “We don’t want to get away from religion, but do we really want young girls teaching our religion?” He went on to observe, however, that there were “a few New Order teachers [whose classes] are almost on the likes of Sunday School,” a reference to the fact that New Order members tend to prefer a more systematic articulation of spiritual convictions than do the Old Order.
A final differentiating force is the type of neighborhood or community in which the school is located. Our data is strictly anecdotal at this point, but we do see evidence that the particular configuration of church affiliations surrounding a given school, as well as the occupations and social class represented among the parents of a given group of schoolchildren, has a discernible effect on the character of the school. One new school we visited, for example, was comprised almost entirely of younger Old Order parents with successful home businesses. Though still a one-room structure, the school had whiteboards instead of chalkboards, gas lighting, indoor plumbing, and other amenities. The school board had gone out of its way to hire two New Order women with excellent reputations as teachers and was paying them salaries that made them the envy of other Amish teachers (“the board asked me to name my price,” recalled one of the teachers, “and they pay our transportation, too”). These teachers commented not only on the strong support from parents but on the relative absence of older siblings among the schoolchildren as a key element shaping the “progressive” atmosphere of the school. In another case, a group of mostly New Order parents arranged for construction of a building that far surpassed the guidelines set by the Amish Advisory Committee.
The magnitude of social class variations is still unclear, and their effects are mitigated by the understanding that each parochial school is supposed to serve families from different affiliations. There is nothing akin to “open enrollment” in the parochial school system. But as one Old Order man put it, “if you’re buying a home, you want to know what schools are like in that area—so you take it into consideration.” And if cases such as the ones described above—in which education-minded parents from one affiliation get together to build their own schools and ensure high-quality teachers and a demanding curriculum—become more frequent, it is possible that the seeds of an emerging class structure will be sown by the differentiation among parochial schools themselves, as well as by the public-private school contrast, to which we now turn.
Swartzentruber Amish “scholars” head for home after a day of study and play at Woodland School. Photograph by Doyle Yoder.
“It’s a Rip Van Winkle Kind of Thing”: The Public School Alternative
The Amish commitment to adult baptism places enormous pressure on parents to raise children who want to be initiated into an exclusive community.19 The parochial school movement often references the words of Solomon in Proverbs 22:6: “Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old he will not depart from it.” As Marc Olshan reminds us, the one-room schoolhouse is not a form of primitive social organization but rather is “an indication of the sophistication of a people who understand the need for controlling the socialization of their children.”20 Viewed in this light, the decision of some Amish parents to send their children to public schools takes on special interest.
Approximately half of all children enrolled in the public schools in Holmes County are Amish. In our interview sample, 21 percent of Amish parents had chosen to send their children exclusively to public schools. Another 13 percent had used both public and private schools for their children, and 8 percent had opted for a special charter school that catered to the Amish but employed state-certified teachers. Thus, 42 percent of our Amish interviewees had used public schools at some point, presumably with the full knowledge that the hidden curriculum teaches “competition, individualism, nationalism, scientific modes of thought, hierarchical organization, and the teenage subculture.”21 Given the potential clash with Amish lifestyles and sensibilities, why do some parents choose public over private schooling?
One logical answer would be money: local property taxes paid by all Amish support the public schools, and thus sending one’s children to public schools incurs no additional financial burden. The large majority of parents we interviewed, however, indicated that finances had little to do with their decision. Lack of proximity to a parochial school (too far to walk safely) was mentioned by a few parents. But neither money nor distance seemed to be the real issue.
Instead, the reasons given by parents who sent their children to public school had to do with preparing children for a world of ever-increasing contact with the “English.” A middle-aged Old Order woman noted, “I really think they need that education to survive in the world. They need to be exposed to some stuff and still survive.” An Old Order father who repaired motors for a living put it this way: “I have absolutely no complaints [with the public school our children attend]. Depending on where we were living, there is no way I would send my kids into some of the [parochial] schools that are [out there]. But [Linda] is a great principal, the teachers are great, they’re Christians, they teach good values.” One of the most vocal Old Order Amish supporters of the public schools did not mince words:
Amish and English students study and play together at many public elementary schools in Holmes County. Photograph courtesy of Rhoda Mast.
Just to get to the heart of it, I’ll tell you right off the bat I’m not pro-parochial school. It’s a great idea, don’t get me wrong, but I feel it’s misused because our teachers aren’t compensated enough and they’re too young to be highly qualified … What’s happening in this area is we have very few farmers. We’ve never faced this situation before. But 8th grade is the end of it for us. I don’t agree with that. You need some life skills. You need the minimum of a high school equivalent somehow. Now other parents will disagree with this, but interaction with the English is not always a bad thing. The more e
xposure we have to other cultures, and accepting them for what they are, the better off we’ll be. It’s a Rip Van Winkle kind of thing.
A theme that surfaced numerous times in interviews with Amish parents was the perception that the quality of instruction, particularly in the use of English, is better in public schools. An Old Order bishop commented: “The Amish recommend you send your children to their schools, but I don’t know why. What’s the reason? I got my education at the Amish school down here. They had two girls from the low, low Swartzentruber, but they weren’t good teachers. I never learned my vowels—to this day I can’t spell. So we sent our children to public school. I think they learn more how to pronounce English well in public schools.” An Old Order parent concurred: “The public school our children go to is a good school. We’re very satisfied with the teachers and the education. We think that because they only go to school for 8 years, they should have a good, quality education. Some Amish schools are providing that, but some aren’t … That’s the way we feel about it. Now that’s not the general Amish way of thinking. I know that; I realize that.” Although several parochial school teachers we interviewed were convinced that the quality of instruction they offered was on a par with or better than that found in the public schools, the sentiment that public schools were superior in academics was mentioned frequently by public school teachers and by Amish parents who supported the public schools.
This unusual degree of support for public schooling among the Holmes County Amish can be accounted for in at least two ways. First is the concern that parochial schools might not offer a sound basic education that would allow young people to keep pace with economic changes and to earn a living off the farm.22 A principal of an East Holmes public school with a student body that is 50 percent Amish gave this explanation: “It’s the work scene. I have six families that are farming out of 120 families at this school! That is a huge change and more and more parents want their children to get some skills because they can’t assume they’ll work on the farm or even work in Dad’s business. It’s getting more competitive.” Amish who support the public schools feel acutely that they must prepare their children for “a world in which they might well be hourly wage earners and not farmers, a world in which, increasingly, the routine of their daily lives is not very different from that of their non-Amish neighbors, and in which innovation, technological change, and the reaction to both will likely yield new definitions of what it means to be … Amish.”23
Second, the strong Mennonite influence in Holmes County has long created a protective cocoon around certain public schools that heavily enroll the Amish. When John Hershberger and other Old Order Amish men were arrested and jailed in 1958 for failing to send their children to public school, a protracted conflict with the Wayne County Court ensued.24 “We never had the clash with Holmes County in the way we had with Wayne County,” commented one Amish elder.25 Some Amish still feel that public schools in Holmes County are firmly grounded in Christian morals. A male public elementary school teacher described the Amish receptivity to his teaching this way: “They feel they need more education, and they see this as a safe environment because of my background, and because they know I won’t cross the line.”
Amish enrollment in the public schools is not just a function of “push” from the Amish side; it also involves varying degrees of “pull” from public school principals and superintendents who actively court the Amish. In financially strapped rural school districts in Wayne and Holmes Counties, Ohio, the prospect of losing Amish children to the parochial schools is a palpable concern. One public school principal noted, “We lost about 20 kids last year to parochial schools, though [the parents] are really reluctant to say why they left. This really irks the superintendent because he tends to see dollar signs.”26 An Amish leader reflected, “When this parochial system started coming on, the public system in Holmes County, especially in the Berlin, Wise, Flat Ridge area, changed a lot in being conducive to our needs. And that made a big difference, too. I’ve heard people in the areas where they were thinking about building a parochial school say, ‘Well, the way the public school is working with us, it’s not really a big need.’”
At Mount Eaton Elementary School, for example, the principal, Rhoda Mast, whose parents grew up Amish, persuaded her superintendent to construct seventh- and eighth-grade “attached classrooms” so that Amish children could finish out their final two years in the public elementary school. Amish parents, who trusted Mast because of her background and her ability to speak Pennsylvania Dutch, were thrilled that their children could get an additional two years of high-quality education while avoiding the middle school environment of increased athletic competition, peer pressure, and sexual innuendo. Mast went to great lengths to sensitize her teachers to Amish expectations, and she even arranged for a volunteer to come and teach German to the Amish students in the higher grades. For the school as a whole, she was able to introduce portfolio assessment, all-day kindergarten, health screening, and other more mainstream curricular options to her Amish students. When her Amish students complete eighth grade, Mast holds an official graduation ceremony for them, complete with caps and gowns and diplomas signed by the superintendent. As a celebration she has taken students for an overnight stay at a local hotel with a swimming pool. Attendance at the school, which is 70 percent Amish overall, has doubled, and Mount Eaton students score at the “proficient” level on statewide achievement tests.27
Yet sending one’s children to public schools can be a controversial decision within the Amish community. When asked why some Amish parents would send their children to public schools, one Amish man blurted out, “Most of those would be the ‘uppity class’ Amish. They want to make sure their children get a better education.” Another father agreed that sending their children to public schools required a delicate public-relations balancing act: “You have to be discreet about it. It can be a sore spot. The Amish had a really hard time getting the state to allow it [the parochial school option] so if I don’t support them, I have to ask myself, ‘Am I doing my part?’ But you make a decision and you live with it.” Some parents who send their children to public schools also give monetary support to a parochial school. This not only gives them the option of pulling their children out of public schools at any time but demonstrates their support for the principle of parochial schooling. Another example of “straddling” public and parochial options that we discovered was a tendency for some parents to send their children to public schools in kindergarten and the early grades and then switch to parochial schools later on. An Amish teacher told us that a big reason many Amish parents switch their children from public to Amish schools around third or fourth grade is because “the boy-girl talk becomes too much after that.”
Variety in the Public School Experience
Does the tenor and quality of the educational experience differ for Amish children in public versus Amish-run schools? There is no question that it does, but to varying degrees. For just as the parochial schools exhibit an unexpected degree of internal variation, so too do the public elementary schools in Wayne and Holmes Counties.
Approximately one-third of the Amish in the Holmes County Settlement send their children to public schools for at least a few years. These Old Order children ride the school bus regularly. Photograph by Doyle Yoder.
An Old Order Amish girl and an English boy at a public elementary school show off their science projects, the girl’s farm scene and the boy’s gorillas and palm trees. Photograph courtesy of Rhoda Mast.
At one extreme are several small public elementary schools near Charm, Ohio, that are 100 percent Amish. These schools, which receive Title I funding because of the language barrier, have morning prayer but no pledge of allegiance, maintain an Amish advisory board, teach a curriculum tailored to Amish needs (no evolution), keep homework to an absolute minimum, observe the “old Christmas” holiday on January 6, and have German language and singing classes on Fridays. To some Amish parents, such schools r
epresent “the best of both worlds.” At no extra cost (beyond property taxes), they are assured of a high-quality education for their children with certified teachers in a moral environment that is comfortable to them.
Other public schools in the area are more mixed, with Amish pupils constituting 30–60% of the student population. In the mixed schools, the disjuncture between the home and the school environment is sharper. Amish children attending one of these schools, for instance, might have the opportunity to hear a talk by a soldier returned from Iraq, as happened recently in one public school. They will certainly encounter curricular materials that are contrary to their parents’ beliefs, leading to dilemmas such as the one described by this Old Order Amish father: “My son … at first when he came home with the dinosaur stuff, I told him, ‘There might have been dinosaurs, I don’t know’ … He tried to tell me, and I said, ‘Maybe there were, but they weren’t fifty million years ago.’ I said, ‘Son, that’s OK, you can believe it if you want, but I’m not going to, because it wasn’t that long ago. We had a flood. I believe in the Bible, 100 percent. They might have been 5,000 years ago, I won’t dispute that.’ Maybe there were dinosaurs. They’ve got records. That’s fine. It’s part of that school system, science is. If they want to teach them about dinosaurs, have at it, but in my opinion, it’s a waste of time.” Moreover, the Amish children in public schools are usually exposed to computers and television. One public school principal confessed that his most recent mistake was showing the feature film Dennis the Menace at the end-of-the-year party. Several Amish kids left in tears because they were frightened by the character who played the “bum.”
To some extent, Amish parents recognize and accept the fact that public schools will not conform to their system. Nevertheless, there is a fine line that public school teachers and principals may cross only at the expense of angering their Amish clientele, who always have the option of leaving if their concerns are not met. The result is a high degree of border work required of faculty and staff, who must be sensitized to Amish issues. According to one public school principal, “the trust level is just huge.”28 At the public Mount Eaton Elementary School’s annual Christmas Play, which is eagerly attended by dozens of Amish parents, the principal told us that she had to be careful about how to cast the Amish students. Sheep and shepherd roles were fine, but the roles of the three wise men-turned-rappers, featured in one year’s performance, were off-limits to Amish students.
An Amish Paradox Page 19
