As I get to know the Amish and their children, I can’t help but think about how different they are being raised from my granddaughter Robin, who lives in Brooklyn, N.Y.

I don’t judge one as better than the other, but the difference in the way they are raised is striking.

Robin is a lucky child, she has two doting parents who both work at home much of the time. She goes to a wonderful daycare program at one of the best schools in New York City.

She has access to Ipad’s and computers and visits museums and public parks. She is confident, articulate, and is supported in every creative way.

She has the willfulness of the only child, like her mother, and is at ease in the company of adults. Her teachers speak of her having a mind of her own.

Like most children in Brooklyn, she is monitored and goes nowhere without adult supervision. She is an avid reader, painter, and moviegoers.

She lives in one of the most interesting, challenging, and teeming cities in the world. She rarely sees the country and has little to do with the animal world.

She has a dog –  Sandy- acquired just for her, Sandy sleeps right alongside Robin. She watches movies online all the time and visits book stores every week or so.

She is adored, spoken to, and given every creative and educational tool possible. Grandparents on both sides send her a stream of toys and movies and clothes.

In her pre-care classes, she is learning about robotics and artificial intelligence.

She wears the very hip and colorful clothes of the Brooklyn child. and has clogs and sneakers. She loves seafood, Thai food, Chinese food, and squid. She often appears on Facebook in the beautiful images posted by her mother.

She is as comfortable on FaceTime as I am twitchy and uneasy. She is an amazing child, Emma and Jay have done an extraordinary job raising her.

The life of the Amish children is so different.

They are often left on their own to learn to be by themselves and navigate their world. They wear the same clothes every day and have no access to any kind of technology.

They have little time to read.

They never go to movies or listen to music.

They work with their siblings almost from the time they can walk. They live among horses and a dog, but those are working animals, they do not exist for play.

They must learn to fill empty time themselves, they are not watched all the time.

They learn to cook and clean and do laundry early. The boys learn other things – mostly how to help their fathers on their farms and in their work.

All the children have work to do.

Their teachers are mostly brothers and sisters, the children go to school until the eighth grade. Their learning is focused on the utilitarian things they will need to do. The girls learn math so they can sell baked goods and vegetables.

The boys learn basic engineering, English, and mathematics.

At age two or three, they clear rocks from pastures, help harvest the crops, help out in the kitchen.  They look for work, they seem to enjoy it. Nobody nags them to help, they just help. It’s what they see.

They socialize with siblings and cousins, they often visit one another in horse buggies and religious gatherings.

But they seek a plain and simple life, just like their parents. They don’t have grandiose ambitions beyond their families.

The girls marry only when they are ready and have lots of children. The boys and girls set off on their own (or marry) when they are 21 or work for their parents for pay.

From the first, they learn the importance of community, something I think Robin has not yet had a chance to experience. Their world is narrow but yet full of connection and family. There is always work to do on an Amish farm.

At night, they are free to read and play and sing together.

They wear the same clothes and bonnets every day, are taught to greet and welcome strangers who come by and they go to church on Sundays.

In the summer, the girls walk barefoot. If they stumble or fall, they get themselves up. The boys are most often with their fathers, learning how to plow, saw, and till. The girls are prepared for mostly domestic work, although they are strong and outspoken in many ways.

Nobody warns them about horses or heat or dust or water. They are trusted to care for themselves within reason. They are sometimes corrected, never scolded.

I can’t say which way of life is better, they both serve the children in different ways. It is fascinating for me to see the differences.

Both lives are structured. Sometimes I think Robin is overstimulated, for a four-year-old, sometimes I think the Amish children are under-stimulated.

But Robin and the Amish all seem secure, loved, and well cared for.

Amish children and Brooklyn children are loved, at least the ones I am writing about, and to me, that is the most important measure of all.

I have largely given up judging other people as I grow older, it’s not for me to do that. I love my granddaughter, and I am coming to love the Amish children, in different ways.

They are both raised by parents who care deeply for their children and are working hard to do the best for them.

My granddaughter loves to talk to me and call me funny names. The Amish children look me in the eye, talk to me and ask me thoughtful questions about my life.

They have taken to calling me “Grandpops,” Robin calls me “meepaw.”

Both seem remarkable to me. Again and again, I am reminded that there are many different ways to live in the world, and I am in no position to tell other people how to live.

More and more I value humility, even when I fail to practice it.