The Schoolhouse

The invitation was truly a gift.
The invitation was given to me in my favorite country store.
The store is in the land of Amish buggies; it is the place I go to buy my candles.
This particular day I had my future daughter-in-love with me.

I was glad she was with me, since she was a witness to the invitation.
I could not believe the words were spoken.
I was able to say a resounding, yes.
I left the store that day thinking, Did that really just happen?

For years, I have been going to the same country store.
I have purchased bookshelves and other accessories for our home.
Mostly, I go there to replenish my supply of candles.
There is one fragrance I love, named appropriately, Country Store.

As we walked around that day looking at all the wonderful things, I saw her.
She is a young Amish woman who works in the store.
We talk every time I come in to do my shopping.
I always look forward to our conversations.

A month before, she told me that she was leaving the store.
In fact, the day I was there happened to be her last day.
She was leaving to teach school.
I knew in my heart she would be a wonderful teacher.

We said goodbye that day.
I knew that I would miss my sweet friend.
However, the day I was in the store with my future daughter-in-love, my friend was there.
I was so delighted to see her.

I asked about her teaching position.
I learned that she had eight grades in one classroom.
I learned that she was responsible for thirty children.
The joy on her face as she told me about her students was contagious.

I learned that the schoolhouse was not too far away from the store.
Would you like to come visit me at school? She asked sweetly.
I would love to come, I told her with enthusiasm that seemed to overflow.
She wrote down a phone number where I would be able to contact her.

We settled on a date that was agreeable to both of us.
It was the day before I was leaving for my creativity conference.
I knew that it would be a busy week, but an invitation like this does not happen often.
She wrote down the date and the address of the schoolhouse on a post it note.

I waited until I got in the car before I put the date, time, and address in my phone.
I saw the map come up immediately.
I knew that I was going into the heart of Lancaster County.
I knew that I would be driving past beautiful farmland, ready for harvest.

The day came.
I was so excited to get in the car knowing my destination.
I wore a long maxi skirt, a plain T-shirt, and flat shoes.
After a long drive, I was on the road where the schoolhouse was located.

The GPS announced that I had arrived.
I pulled into a gravel path.
My car sounded so loud on the loose stones.
I saw all the children in the recess yard; they stopped their play to look at me.

As I approached the one room schoolhouse, I stopped the car.
My sweet friend, the teacher of all these children, came over to me.
Could you pull your vehicle up along the side of the building? She asked.
The children are playing ball and I do not want them to hit your window.

I turned the car back on and did as she told me.
The children watched my every move.
Even dressed as plain as I possibly could, I felt conspicuous.
I was entering their world, bringing pieces of my world along with me.

My sweet friend brought me into the schoolhouse while the children played.
The classroom was so neat and clean.
Books were organized on the shelves.
The room was warm and inviting.

A wood stove was in the front corner.
There were no electric lights; yet the room was filled with natural light from the many windows.
I was trying desperately to take it all in and commit it to memory.
My friend went outside to get the children; I asked if I could take pictures of the classroom.

I noticed all the straw hats on a shelf by a sink.
Above the sink were pegs on which hung white cups with the children’s names.
A long towel hung on a high bar that was placed on an adjacent wall.
The towel was in a loop, which the children pulled down when they finished using it.

The teacher’s desk was in the front of the room.
Neat and organized, there were binders for each of the eight grades she taught.
She had one helper in the room with her.
A teacher, a teacher’s helper, and thirty children came into the classroom.

I sat in a chair that my friend had placed in the back of the room.
The children came in and looked at me.
Some smiled.
Others were shy.

They began with prayer.
They all stood in front of the room and sang bible songs.
I was enthralled with their singing.
My friend, their teacher, had the most beautiful singing voice.

There was phonics for the first grade children, as the teacher spoke Pennsylvania Dutch to them.
Bible questions were interspersed with their lessons.
There was movement from their seat to the chalkboard in front.
There was order, and respect, and joy.

It was the joy on their faces and in that classroom that I will never forget.
The children love their teacher and she loves them.
God is central to everything they do.
The classroom rules were on a beautifully decorated sign.

The rules were in place to build their character.
The children did not call out.
The children shared their supplies and helped one another.
Everyone in that classroom really wanted to be there.

I noticed a bulletin board that warmed my heart.
There was a picture of a large watering can positioned to water vases of flowers.
Above the picture were words that made me smile.
Our parents water us with love and prayers.

Each vase had the family name on the front.
Each flower in the vase were the children from that family.
The bulletin board affirmed the important role of the parents in their children’s lives.
The families are all part of the same community; they live, learn, and worship together.

It was soon time for the children to get their lunchboxes.
I knew that it was time for me to go home.
They were called to the back of the room, beginning with the youngest to the oldest.
They stopped as the teacher put liquid soap in their hands.

They went to the sink and washed their hands, using the towel and moving it on the bar.
They each got their lunchbox and returned to their desk.
I never saw such order, yet so much joy.
They sang a song naming the books of the Bible as they did their lunch routine.

Thank you for visiting us, my friend sweetly said.
The children said the same in unison.
I left the classroom and went to my car.
My friend came to my car window; I got out to hug her.

We are having a Christmas program in a few months; would you like to come?
I would love to come, I said with renewed enthusiasm.
I will let you know the date and time, she said.
I know that she will.

I am so grateful for my visit.
I drove away down the same gravel path, my car much louder than I would have liked.
I looked to my right and saw all the children under a large tree eating their lunch.
Their teacher was with them; she was barefoot.

and to make it your ambition to lead a quiet life: You should mind your own business and work with your hands, just as we told you, so that your daily life may win the respect of outsiders and so that you will not be dependent on anybody. (1 Thessalonians 4:11,12)

2 responses to “The Schoolhouse”

1. Gina, What area of Lancaster did you visit? We’ve have lived here for 32 years, and I have learned a lot from the Amish. They are quiet, kind, and keep to themselves. You’ll have to come out to visit us sometime to meet our friends. Oh, the stories we could tell you!

   Reply

   • Karen,
     The school I visited was in Kinzers. I would love to visit you and catch up after all these years. Meeting your friends would be delightful.
     Blessings, friend.
     Gina

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