The problem surfaced the second week. David Yoder hadn't done homework. Not three days — all ten.
Emma approached after class. 'David, you haven't submitted a single assignment.' He shrugged. 'Why should I?' 'Because this is school.' 'I'm fourteen. In three months I finish. In three months — the farm. The farm doesn't need geography.'
The Conversation
Emma thought for two days. Then went to his home. His father, Aaron Yoder (the same carpenter who built barns), sat on the porch.
'Aaron, David isn't studying.' Aaron nodded. 'I know. He wants to work. I understand — I was the same.' 'But three months is three months. He could—' 'Could what?' Aaron looked at her. Not angry — curious. 'Could what? Become a scientist? Engineer? He'll become a farmer. Like me. Like my father. What will geography give him?'
Emma didn't know. She stood on that porch with no answer for a man who'd built a hundred barns without a single textbook.
The Solution
Next day she changed David's assignments. Arithmetic: 'You have 40 acres. How many seed sacks at 3 per acre?' Geography: 'Where did the Amish come from? Show the route on the map.' Reading: not the primer — Martyrs Mirror, about the martyrs.
David looked at the assignment. Looked at Emma. Picked up a pencil. Wrote: '120 sacks.' First submitted work in two weeks.
By Christmas David submitted everything. Not from love of learning. From respect for a teacher who didn't pretend geography mattered more than the farm. Who simply made geography about the farm.