Honor Student Recalls His Life in Two Worlds
“I’ll be driving along the freeway at 60 m.p.h, and I’ll remember a time when I’d be going 17 m.p.h. max in my horse and buggy, with too much time on my hands. Now the faster I go, the less time I seem to have.”
For young Freeman (Fritz) Schlabach (pronounced Slay-baugh), breaking with his Amish heritage 10 years ago was both wrenching and liberating. At 17, Schlabach catapulted from a simple, structured life in an Indiana Amish settlement to life “outside” and faced a barrage of new experiences. He hopscotched the country and the Far East with the Marines, and then arrived at MiraCosta College three years ago. Last year he won the college’s Medal of Honor (the highest academic award) and he graduated last week with top state and local honors. In fact, he and fellow MiraCosta student Wendy Helfrich of Vista were two of the 15 top community college students in the state. His perfect 4.0 record has earned him a scholarship to Virginia’s Washington and Lee University.
“His records suggest a rare dedication to the ideal in human conduct,” said MiraCosta College English professor Gloria Floren. “Fritz stands out as a star, possibly the brightest of all. He’s a gifted student with an ability to both enlighten and empower others.”
If movie moguls should ever cast a film about Schlabach, Ron Howard would play the lead. Affable and unassuming, Schlabach shifts easily from thoughtful reflections to hearty laughter. His easygoing manner belies the hurdles he’s cleared since leaving home.
As a child, Schlabach remembers his fascination with “the outside.”
‘Perhaps, in my wildest imagination, I could think of driving a car but never of leaving. That would surely get me into hell.”
With no electricity or cars, Amish existence creates a time warp.
“For the Amish, school is a secondary function. The primary function is working on the farms (non-mechanized). You were not supposed to dawdle on the way home from school. Of course we dawdled.
“I can remember praying it would rain, so I could get out of the cornfield. There was no letup until midwinter, because the early part of winter meant hand-shucking corn.”
Amish school ends at the eighth grade. Although literacy is highly prized--to facilitate Bible reading--asking questions is discouraged. “Inquiry is one of the fears of Amish culture. Yet I do understand. In order for the Amish to ensure that tradition stays that way, they have to draw the line.”
For young Schlabach, reading offered intrigue and adventure. “I was a bookworm. Dad would catch me reading (by kerosene lantern) because he’d look up through the register and see the light. Then I got smart and put a carpet over the register,” said Schlabach, who’d sneak a book along on early morning forays to put the cows out to pasture.
Swashbuckling sagas, like Max Brand and Zane Grey, drew the independent child. “I’d carve wooden guns . . . and once I made a rifle by cutting off my mom’s broom handle. You can imagine my parents’ reaction to that.”
His decision to break away evolved gradually. At 16, he entered the period of rum springa or “running around,” when Amish youngsters of courting age (16-21) are given greater freedom before formally joining the Amish church and settling down.
“I’m bullheaded, just like my Dad. When I was 17, I didn’t conform. I hung around with the ‘wild’ (by Amish standards) group. They were rebels like me. On Saturdays and Sundays, we’d sneak to shows in the little town of Lagrange, Ind. Everyone knew that’s what we were doing because the hitching rack in front of the theater was all filled with horses and buggies.”
Deciding to Leave
Like other young people, Schlabach got a job working in a trailer factory in town. Then, against his father’s wishes, he bought a car. At first, he kept it at a friend’s house, driving horse and buggy to pick it up. Finally, his father, whom Schlabach describes as “strict, even for the Amish,” delivered an ultimatum: “Sell that thing or you’re out.”
He kept the car.
“When I first left, I felt exhilaration--’Wow! Freedom!’ Yet, I was not accepted by my family, nor was I accepted by my new culture. I was looked down upon because I was a simple-minded person from a simple-minded way!”
Leaving a restrictive environment was tantamount to opening Pandora’s box, and Schlabach struggled for a time between control and excess. After two years’ work in the trailer factory (‘I hated it!’), he joined the Marines.
This precipitated a crisis for Schlabach’s family. For them, the military equated with war and killing.
“I’d told my parents I’d meet with them at my sister’s before I had to go in. My entire extended family showed up (200-300 people).” One after another, concerned relatives pleaded with him to reverse his decision.
He held his ground.
“They still don’t realize that I haven’t gone to war, and that I’ve never killed anyone.
“The best thing that happened to me was joining the Marine Corps--it had a very stabilizing influence on me. I was suddenly among my peers, from all different backgrounds.”
Adjusting to the military regimen proved easy. “Boot camp was home to me. I found I was above average in discipline. Also, I’d been taught that community effort was important, not individual glory.”
The Marine Corps transported Schlabach far afield--Camp Lejeune in North Carolina, Japan and California.
His education had left major gaps--”big holes, like in math and science . . . I had always wanted to have a high school diploma.” Even after he passed the high school equivalency test, “there was still something missing.”
Learning the Ropes
Oceanside’s MiraCosta College opened new vistas for Schlabach.
“The first semester I was scared to death. I took a course in political science from the hardest teacher on campus. I studied and studied . . . ending up getting straight A’s. That boosted my confidence.”
His furtive childhood reading has paid off in his writing skills: “I had a sense of how words are supposed to be organized.” Students in his English class were amazed. “I was always at the top of the class. When they found out I had only an eighth-grade education, they about died.”
Diverse MiraCosta classes sparked new discoveries. In a public speaking class, he found out that “I enjoy being gabby.” A biology class “really opened my eyes,” and American literature fascinated him.
“Fritz is a rare package,” said MiraCosta College’s Gail Eager, coordinator of tutorial services, where Schlabach worked as a peer tutor. He is “a combination of inspiration, humor, humility and perception. He relates with compassion, warmth and empathy to his tutorees. He cares where they are,” she said.
Straddling two cultures, Schlabach values “the best” of his Amish background. A strong sense of family tops the list. Fritz’s 1-year-old son, Joshua, is “a source of joy.” Instrumental in activating the MiraCosta College chapter of Alpha Gamma Sigma (an honorary society), Schlabach, as president, often conducted meetings with baby Joshua in tow.
“Fritz not only modeled quiet, effective leadership, but also served as an exemplar of loving fatherhood,” said Floren, who also is an adviser to Alpha Gamma Sigma.
Schlabach’s wife, Deanna, is just completing her hitch with the Marine Corps at Camp Pendleton. “We met in a very romantic spot,” Schlabach said, grinning. “The Marine Corps chow line. . . . She’s very supportive.”
Other carry-overs from his Amish upbringing are self-discipline and the Puritan work ethic. “I have a passion, a drive to do my best. Work is part of life.”
Despite his obvious acculturation, some aspects of modern life frustrate him.
“This morning my wife had a flat tire, a brand new tire, too. I thought, horses never get flat tires . . . maybe they need to be shod, but never a flat.
“I fear getting caught up in the material world,” said Schlabach, who owns neither TV or stereo. “I was born 100 years too late. I really desire a more simple life style. I don’t want to own a million-dollar house. I want to be an attorney as a means to having a horse ranch one day.”
Source of Wisdom
His ranch would also be home to teens and the elderly, a dream which harks back to the Amish extended family. There, grandparents often live right on the family farm in the “grandfather house” and are sought out for advice on farm and family matters. “My grandparents were a tremendous source of wisdom in my life.”
Schlabach thinks industrialization and the transient nature of modern life have separated the young and the old.
“We waste our wisdom. The elderly could get new meaning from the young, and the teens could learn from the elderly.
Schlabach stays in touch with his six brothers and two sisters. “We write, but it’s hard. There’s a big separation. They’ve never been in my world.”
Schlabach reflected philosophically on his relationship with his father, “As I grew up, the less I thought my father knew. Now, the older I become, the smarter he is. I respect and love my father very much.”
Yet, because of the non-verbal, non-physical Amish ways, he found it hard to convey these feelings. “I wanted so much to give him (my father) a hug! But I couldn’t.”
Schlabach still seeks a measure of approval from his father. “I’m a Christian now, and my father and I talk about Christian things. But he can’t reconcile the fact that my life style doesn’t correspond with his teachings. I find I’m still trying to prove to my father what I can do.”
The last time Schlabach went home was five years ago. “It was even culture shock for me . . . it’s always easier to leave things than to go back.”
Schlabach, at peace with his decision, has melded smoothly into today’s roller coaster tempo, still keeping his Amish ideals intact--strong moral fiber, integrity, a sense of responsibility.
After graduation and honor ceremonies, the Schlabachs will trek across country to Lexington, Va., where he enters Washington and Lee with a substantial scholarship packet. He plans to obtain a bachelor’s degree in accounting, then become a certified public accountant and go to law school.
Despite his break with Amish tradition, “The family ties are still there . . . I view my heritage with pride. There was a long time when I didn’t, but now I look back with nostalgia.”
