I had never been as daunted and nervous to teach a block than I was when I taught Parzival for the first time to our pioneer class last November 2013. I felt unqualified, unprepared, and in over my head. I eventually started the block with what I felt was a fairly decent plan, pieced together in the best way I could manage and armed with writing exercises, art materials and relevant quotes from Gandhi and Kahlil Gibran. I was set. Then, four days into my block, super typhoon Haiyan hit and our country was in utter shock from the unbelievable devastation and loss. And I knew then that I had to throw half my plan out the window.
Even before the block started, it seemed as if everything that could go wrong was coming at me full force. There were scheduling problems, resource books disappearing, city events happening simultaneously which my students were eager to attend rather than go to class, and so much more. On the first day of my block, I had arranged for my class to receive a letter which would mysteriously lead them through the field and the trees; and after following arrows, they would reach a newly built gazebo by the river which would set the scene for the beginning of the story. It was all perfect – or so I thought. That day, rain poured down, soaking my cardboard arrows and causing half the class to be late, muddy and wet upon arrival. Aside from that, more unlikely, unfortunate events happened in those first few days including one of my students being absent due to mild heart disease and another student’s grandmother suddenly passing away.
I thought things couldn’t get any worse. And that’s when I learned about the coming super typhoon. I soon realized it wasn’t the usual kind of typhoon and that we were in for something quite serious -- so I decided to let go. This is the point when I thought, this is beyond my control –- I have to just relax, accept it and see where we go from here. So four days into my block, on a Thursday afternoon, classes were called off, with no view as to when we would resume. The teachers prepared the school for the worst and my husband and I prepared our home for inevitable flooding which had happened to us twice before with much smaller typhoons. We loaded up on food and water, bought candles, tied our bikes, lounge chairs and the wheelbarrow to railings, put plastic sheets outside our native style windows to stop the water from coming through, and charged up all our electronics.
The power went out by early Friday morning and soon after the typhoon hit. The wind was unbelievably fierce and it blew off our gate, put holes in our roof and uprooted a few trees. I had never heard the sound of a tree being uprooted before and was in awe of the strength of nature as I watched one of our huge trees fall over right outside my window. It sounded like a succession of little firecrackers as the roots popped out of the soil. Every few minutes, I would hear more trees falling over in the distance and hoped no one was hurt. The flood started rising overnight and by Saturday morning it was two feet high. This kept rising until it reached a peak of over five feet by evening. Since our house is on stilts, the water did not enter our home, but we were stranded. Outside our window was a murky, brown sea with only the tops of trees sticking out of the water and the sound of unhappy cows mooing in the distance. We were okay, though. We were prepared with enough food, water, candles and tons of papers to check to keep us busy.
The flood was still high on Sunday but was starting to recede. During these days, I thought about how to go on with my block. At the same time, I was receiving text messages about the horrible devastation in the north of our island which was directly hit by the eye of the typhoon and I was wondering how I could help once the flood had receded. I knew that classes wouldn’t resume for a while as the school would have to be cleaned and repaired. Many teachers and families would have also been affected and would need time to recover.
By Monday morning the flood was completely gone, leaving behind tons of sticky, dark mud and trash brought from miles away by the water. We walked over to school to find that our preparations had paid off greatly as many materials were saved. However, there the water had gone up to eight feet in the Kindergarten and mud had entered all the ground floor classrooms. There was a lot of work to be done. Teachers, parents, friends and the older students arrived, pails and brooms in hand. It was hard work which caused our backs to ache, although lunch together was fun and full of joy. The high school students were there in full force, cleaning rooms and gathering relief goods to be distributed in the local community. It was such a joy for me to see them doing such meaningful work with smiles and (almost) zero grumbling. They all also insisted on being the ones to personally go into the village to hand out the goods. It just so happened that this day was supposed to be the day we celebrated Martinmas. Although we obviously did not push through with our planned festivities, the spirit of St. Martin rang true that day. When I looked at my class elevens -- how they led the rest of the students and worked unwaveringly -- I knew how to go on with my Parzival block. I felt strongly that lots of changes from my original plan had to be made.
We did not resume classes until Thursday, a week after the typhoon hit. Electricity was back, and the school was fairly clean. Minor repairs were ongoing in the background. By this time, the scale of the damage wrought by the typhoon on the Philippines was painfully clear around the world. Heartbreaking stories of death, missing persons, hunger, crime, damaged schools and flattened homes were almost unbearable to hear.
Upon restarting my block, I began by asking my students for their reflections about the typhoon, the flood and their experiences. It just so happened that in the story, we were also doing recall about the part wherein Parzival was at the Grail castle and did not ask the healing question. Through our discussions, the students made comparisons between the state of Anfortas and the state of the nation. They imagined Parzival at that stage in his journey, seeing the disaster in the Philippines and how he would have reacted. One student said, “if Parzival acted in the same way now, maybe he would be posting ‘selfies’ on Facebook.”
Two days later, I took the class to help pack relief goods for the typhoon survivors. For three hours, we packed used clothing at the Archbishop’s residence. It was a humbling experience, having to sort through old, musty clothes which included everything from old underwear, inappropriate formal gowns and winter clothing. It was not the most pleasant of experiences, and yet, afterwards, the students were contented. They initially talked about how difficult it was and how it was frustrating that some people used the donation opportunity to clean out their closets. “However,” one student pointed out, “it had to be done. It is important that the good donations get to the survivors who need clothes.” Another student wrote, “It was a good day. We were busy. We made good use of our time.”
I also decided that it was important for the class to respond to other things happening amongst us. So the day after packing goods, we practiced a song and a couple of verses to recite at the wake of the grandmother of one of our students. We talked about what it meant to visit the family of someone who had recently passed on. We talked about death, compassion, friendship and connectedness while referring to Sigune, Cunneware, Gawain, and Trevrizent and so many more. We listened to a nice, funny story from my student about her grandmother and then we walked to her house to pay our respects. We sang “Amazing Grace,” and then my students asked me if we could sing the “Holy Grail” song which we had been singing in our block. At first, I was hesitant because I thought it might be inappropriate for the occasion. Then my students said, “No, Ms. Anna. It isn’t. It is okay.” So we sang it and it made everyone smile. I should really listen to my students more often.
As the block went on, so many parallels were being made by the students between Parzival’s journey and what was happening to the school, to our country and of course, to our own personal lives. One student submitted a journal entry to me about how Feirefiz shared so much of what he had to the people in Arthur’s court and how people today should also be like Feirefiz, sharing what we have to the typhoon survivors. We then shared other beautiful stories of people around the country and the world coming together to help the Philippines after the devastation. Another student insisted on writing her whole book through the eyes of Parzival, and on the last page, wrote, “In every struggle Parzival encountered in his life, I remembered my past and could relate. Sometimes, I could really see myself in Parzival.”
On the last day of our block, the story of the journey finally complete, the class sat in a circle and spoke candidly, emotionally and deeply about their personal struggles, realizations and also their new questions. For an hour and a half, we laughed, cried, and opened our hearts to each other. Over a week after the block had ended, my students asked me if I would take them up north to deliver lanterns to a coastal village hit by the typhoon. The middle and upper school students had made over 30 beautiful lanterns for typhoon survivors on the day when we finally officially celebrated Martinmas. I had originally planned on delivering the lanterns myself while holding pedagogical activities there with other teachers interested in helping out. However, my students seemed genuinely interested in going. I warned them of the conditions and said it wasn’t going to be a “fun” kind of trip but quite tiring and uncomfortable. They replied, “We know, Ms. Anna, but we want to do something, too.”
So on December 22, 2013, I took my class on a two and a half hour car ride up north where we spent the morning playing games and doing crafts with over 300 children. We hadn’t expected so many and I had originally planned that my students would just assist teachers with the games. However, when we saw how many children there were, I asked my students if they were willing to handle their own groups of kids and they quickly agreed. After two hours of non-stop playing, laughing and crafts work, we fed all the children a hot lunch. In the afternoon, we made more lanterns with 40 children who stayed behind even though the sessions were over. My students were exhausted and slept almost all the way home.
What started off as a Parzival block with a multitude of “problems,” “difficulties” and unexpected events, turned into a true journey for both myself and my students. Teaching this block helped me to accept, to be patient, to let go, to find meaning and relevance, and to be over all a better person. That might sound like a lot. But to this day, I still ask myself: Would I have been so active about relief work had I not been teaching Parzival -- a journey about compassion and connectedness to the world? Ever since the typhoon hit, I have had the image of Anfortas in my head, suffering and waiting. I have seen Parzival in my dreams, steadfast in his quest to make right his mistakes. I have laid in bed at night, thinking of my students trying to make sense of the world and their place in it. The Parzival story is so healing for all of us, young or old. It is alive and truly the archetypal journey of the modern human.
I have yet so much to read, to learn and to improve for my next Parzival block, though I will never forget Parzival in the wake of Haiyan, and how my students made his journey real, today.
It is important that I thank two people who were invaluable to me during all of this: fellow Waldorf teachers -- Josie Alwyn of Rudolf Steiner House and Christine Ongpin-Montes from Manila Waldorf School -- two bright lights who kept me on the right path with their advice and encouragement. Love and gratitude!