YODER, Kan. -- Driving the pony cart along a Reno County road, Galen Yoder was headed to school with two rosy-cheeked, white-capped young girls by his side.
Galen, 14, and his two sisters Megan, 12, and Deanna, 9, still ride a horse and buggy to their one-room schoolhouse secluded off a county road alongside a tall row of pine trees in southern Reno County.
Despite a subtle migration of Old Order Amish away from Yoder, these children and many others still embrace the simple way of life. But for some it wasn't simple enough, The Hutchinson News reports.
In recent years the decision to change from steel wheels to air in the tires of their tractors caused some of the out-migration from the Yoder settlement according to Mark Nissley, owner of Yoder Grain Elevator.
The decision resulted in some locals moving to a more conservative community where tractors are not permitted; a place where all transportation, as well as field work, is done by horse and buggy.
"That was the last distinction the anti-air folks could hold on to," said Nissley. When their bishop said they could have air, suddenly places like Bloomfield, Iowa, where there is a more traditional Ordnung, or set of unwritten rules that guide everyday Amish life, began to look more attractive.
"Amish, for the sake of the community and family, will agree, so it's not disruptive," said Nissley, a Beechy Amish. They won't make a fuss, but will suddenly say, "Wouldn't it be nice to live in Bloomfield?"
"They choose the peaceful route," Nissley said. They'll choose to leave without burning bridges or placing communities at odds with each other.
"They are very wise," Nissley said. "It's a lesson I try to remember; it works to do it that way. They are very cautious so it's not a reflection on a conflict of priorities."
This sort of thing happens all the time according to Donald Kraybill, senior fellow with the Young Center for Anabaptist & Pietist Studies at Elizabethtown College in Elizabethtown, Pennsylvania.
"The people are the church, and the bishop interprets things, but most decisions are voted on by the members. Possibly some leaving didn't agree. This migration happens all the time in various states, it's one way of settling differences without conflict. If they are more traditional and want to raise children in a more traditional way, then sometimes five or six families start their own settlement."
"It makes it easier on everyone, the more conservative and progressive. Birds of the feather flock together, if they don't move there can be tension and dissension," Kraybill said.
On a steel gray February morning, Aden Keim took time away from chopping hedge wood to heat his home so he and his wife Nettie could talk about the changes in the community. This local trickling away of the more conservative Amish over the past 10 years has balanced out, Keim said. He estimates there are still 75 households of people in the three church districts -- North, South and Central -- with about 25 households in each district. In each household there can be multiple generations.
When he was growing up on the same farm where he lives today, the 67 year old said, there were just two church districts.
"We are one body, with three churches that are all the same," Keim said. Meaning they now all agree they can have air in their tractor tires.
"A lot moved out," Keim said of his community. "But we still have a pretty good bunch here. The young ones are marrying. We have had young families make up for it."
Some of their own family was part of the out-migration, moving to Drakesville, Iowa. However, as a minister in the Center District, Keim and Nettie have no plans of moving. As conservative Old Order Amish they will continue to live where the Keim family put down roots more than 100 years ago.
They ride their horse and buggy to whatever home Sunday service is being held at. They also take their buggy to Aldi's and tie up at the light pole. At Lowe's and at the south side of Walmart there is a hitching post, Keim said.
But when Keim has to get his cows to the sale barn in South Hutchinson, he drives a tractor pulling a livestock trailer.
Stepping inside the Old Order Amish Whispering Pines School south of Yoder is like stepping into a Laura Ingalls Wilder book. Wilder, by the way, is a popular author with this student body.
A long curtain separates the younger students from the upper grades. It helps cut down on the noise when Lester Bontrager is teaching math to the older students and Diane Yoder is reading to the youngest in the school. Students attend school until the eighth grade
Each day begins with singing, devotions and prayer. Recess is the most popular time of day, several of the older boys admit. The girls favor table tennis. There is a table in the basement of the school, where the children eat their lunches they bring from home. Two times a week they all have chores which revolve around cleaning the school house.
Unlike their counterparts at Yoder Charter School, these children learn without electricity, even relying on solar power to operate the copier machine.
While the majority of the students enjoy reading, they lean towards stories about pioneers and the wilderness.
Bontrager is in his second year of teaching at the school. He had been a construction worker prior. Most days, if he isn't running late, he'll ride to school in his horse and buggy. But, if he's in a pinch he'll show up in a tractor.
The population of the school has remained steady. Back in the 1997-98 school year, when it first opened as an outlet to add Christian learning to the Amish children's education, they estimated they would generally have about 25 students.
Currently there are 19 students with four kindergarteners beginning at the end of the month.
"It's stressful, making sure everyone is learning," Bontrager said.
You have to be paying attention to find Anna Borntrager's Country Variety Store. For the past 35 years she has been in business on Red Rock Road. This is the place where locals can purchase a variety of items -- from thimbles to German Bibles used in the local church services, and the English can buy fresh eggs, wooden clothespins and brooms.
Business is constant. She says it has been the same since her brother built the store where a pig pen once stood.
Back in 1980, Borntrager walked across the road to visit with her neighbor who owned a country store. She even surprised herself by saying she would like to take over the business when she was ready to quit. That was in May and by November of the same year she was in business.
All these years later the customers still arrive.
"They come in buggies, tractors, cars and vans," Borntrager said. "We have even had them come on motorcycles."
Plain fabrics fill the counters of her store, and local brides count on Borntrager to get the material for their dresses.
At the Yoder Hardware Store it seems nobody exchanges money. Everyone puts their purchase on a ticket. David Wagler stops by for a part to repair a hinge. As Jonas Bontrager goes in search of the piece, Wagler says he appreciates that he doesn't have to drive to one of the big box stores for the simple item.
"This town is not shriveling up," Wagler said. "There isn't a store like it any place."
Religion on 02/28/2015