Free The Amish Nanny by Mindy Starns Clark

adult.
    My thoughts were interrupted by the waiter, who brought my beverages and told me about the chef’s morning special. I realized that more people had been coming in, and that almost half of the tables were now occupied. A different waiter moved past carrying two small bowls of fruit, which he delivered to a couple who had been seated directly behind me.
    Though I had no idea yet what I wanted to order, I handed back the menu and said the special would be fine. As various conversations slowly grew in volume around me, I ignored them all and instead focused on stirring cream and sugar into my coffee and then sipping it slowly as I looked out the window at the passing landscape. We were in Montana now, I felt sure, and would likely be reaching West Glacier in an hour or so. There, our chaperones would come aboard and join us, one big happy group of weary Amish and Mennonite travelers rattling across this vast country together toward home.
    I heard the people behind me say something about a “horse and buggy,” and from their hushed tones I realized they were talking about me. As they conversed, the woman’s voice grew louder and soon the man was shushing her. She replied that he needn’t worry. She said she’d heard me and my whole group talking earlier and we used some other language. “She probably doesn’t even speak English,” she concluded.
    â€œWell, either way,” he whispered in return, “I’m surprised to see them on a train. I didn’t think they were allowed to use anything but a horse and buggy, nor go so far from home.”
    â€œSure they can,” the woman replied softly, with authority. “Judging by their ages, they are probably all on their ringalingas.”
    As she went on to explain to the man what a ringalinga was, I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. She meant my rumspringa , the running around period all Amish kids went through, starting in the mid- to late-teens and lasting for a year or two, sometimes more. Rumspringa was a time when we were given extra freedom and privacy, a welcome loosening of the rules as we transitioned into adulthood.
    To hear her description of it, however, it sounded more like some sort of parentally sanctioned free-for-all, an easy excuse for wild, drunken, promiscuous behavior, the chief aim of which was for all of the girls to land themselves hearty Amish husbands, most often by “accidentally” getting themselves pregnant.
    Trying not to listen, my jaw clenched tighter and tighter as she went on. But then I decided this was a teaching moment I couldn’t pass up, and I spun around in my seat and spoke, looking from one to the other as I did.
    â€œActually,” I told them in a calm and pleasant voice, “I do speak English. The word you’re looking for is rumpsringa , not ringalinga. Despite popular opinion, the point of this practice is to allow those of us who were raised in Amish homes to understand fully the choice we’ll be making if we decide to join the Amish church.”
    Both of them sat there gaping at me, grapefruit-laden forks frozen in midair, halfway to their mouths. I continued, keeping my voice even and low.
    â€œThe good Lord has given every human being free will, you see, but if we were ushered straight from a sheltered, Amish childhood into the commitment of full church membership without any real perspective or knowledge of the world, we wouldn’t actually be making a free and informed decision at all, now would we?”
    The man was still frozen, though the woman had recovered enough to lower her fork and shake her head no.
    â€œThat’s right,” I went on. “ Rumspringa allows us the opportunity to gain that perspective. It’s a time of growing up, of gaining a clearer understanding of what a life lived outside the church would really be like. And though it’s true that a few individuals use it as an excuse to be foolish, most kids