He meant it as an insult. It was another good-natured day of intellectual sparring in the classroom, and he took his best shot. His best was accusing me of living an Amish lifestyle. I only knew it to be an insult because of the confident glare and self-satisfied combination of crossed arms, conspicuous lean backwards in his seat, and smug smirk. I wasn't quite sure how to respond.
"I'm not even sure what that means," I responded.
"You know, you're like those Amish people. Your Amish." Another smirk.
"Make me a list," I demanded. "Tell me what you mean. Tell my why I'm Amish." By the end of the class period, he had.
Here's what I got (**used with permission):
Apparently this is what it is to be Amish. Or perhaps I should say "Ahmish," as he spelled it, before listing off his "Ten Reasons" and skipping number 6 completely. Whatever sense or logic failed in this exchange, it did provide good fodder for entertainment in our competitive tête-à-tête. And then I forgot about it, until the Amish were in the news.
In the May 10th edition of the Des Moines Register, there was a feature story on the 50th anniversary of Amish civil disobedience in Iowa, protesting compulsory public school attendance for their kids. I had never even heard of this. It's a fascinating article, if you get the time. Apparently, the Amish were being forced to send their kids to public schools rather than their own schools due to state law, which was hugely problematic for the beliefs and values of those Amish citizens. They were backed into a moral corner, testing their traditions and core convictions. They fought back.
It's easy to read their plight and think, of course they fought back. But it's only that simple in retrospect. Here they were, facing off against public opinion, public pressure, and law enforcement. It would have been much easier to comply. It would have been easier to compromise and send those values gently into that good night. Instead, they raged. Rather than publicly obey while even privately grousing about the direction of society, like so many of us are wont to do, they said no.
I now hope my student was right. I hope I've got a little Amish in me. When the pendulum of public opinion swings one way, a way far from my values, will I sit in silence and wait until no one is listening to state my case? When the world's path to success for my children strays from our family's faith and value system, will I have the strength to say, "Not us"?
Yes, it's the Amish life for me. At least I'm hoping so. For convictions are easy, until they're not; which is why finding models, even those whose beliefs run counter to my own, is so important. These models, fighting for a way of life I don't necessarily understand, battled not to change minds and increase the numbers of their team. They didn't read poll numbers to find out when it was okay to publicly state their position. They simply gripped onto a firm vision of what they wanted for their homes and for their families and were unwavering in the face of the opposition.
Where insult was hurled, I'm capturing motivation. I'm not sure that my ancient cell phone (see reason #7) or my small town residence (#4) have any resemblance to the Amish way. But if it's an unshakable adherence to my family's way of life that gathers me under that title, then I'll keep walking that way.
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