I Never Rode a School Bus


(The musings of a modern writer as she reflects on her life growing up in a sheltered Mennonite home in the 60’s and 70’s.)

I never rode a school bus

Or ate candy at the Fair;

Never saw the circus

Or was dropped off at Day Care.

I never watched cartoons

Or learned of Mickey Mouse;

And Big Bird was the silly goose

That lived behind our house.


I never joined the Girl Scouts

Never learned to dance;

Never wore a fancy hat

Or a pair of pants.

Never watched a movie

At the drive-in theater;

Never heard of Star Wars

Or the villain Darth Vader.


I never heard a pop tune

Blast from a radio;

Or, God forbid, the Beatles

On a vinyl, turned low.

I never learned the pledge

Of Allegiance to our flag;

Never stalked celebrities

Or read Teen Mag.


I never rode a school bus, but…

I learned the art of grabbing a goat’s teats in just the right way to coax a steady stream of milk into the pail.

I helped deliver baby calves.

I mucked out stalls with a pitchfork.

I milked a herd of dairy cows by age 14.

I spent every day of my childhood, following my dad around on the farm, learning to do the tasks he did.

I frolicked with lambs.

I learned to cook for a houseful of company at a moment’s notice.

I sewed all my own clothes.

I invented games to amuse myself.

I rode a bicycle everywhere.

I drove a tractor, pulling a full load of hay, before I was in 6th grade.

I could bake a cake from scratch.

I spoke two languages.

I traveled the world with my imagination.

I went to bed each night, feeling safe and secure in my sheltered Mennonite world, surrounded by pastures and cornfields, with a moon overhead and a God watching out for me.

-Naomi Gingerich
copyright 2011