The faculty of my school, headed by my headstrong mother, decided to let the entire Manila Waldorf School present a Christmas, or Advent, play to the parents. This was the school’s gift to them in true spirit of Advent. The script itself was written by a Waldorf school teacher abroad, but my mom adapted it for our use. She also took charge of directing the entire performance, and nearly worked herself to death with all the preparations. She’s pretty much the big cheese of the play. It’s going to be performed the day this article comes out. I can’t tell you much about the story, since I just play Payapang Daigdig in between two scenes. The rest of the time, I’m hidden away behind the stage next to the lone piano. Since the play was first scheduled, I never gave a rat’s ass about it except to play my violin the best I could. That was the only thing I was required to do. So while all the other classes were singing in the rehearsals backstage, I was usually slouched in my seat, with my nose buried into a Michael Crichton novel. On one such practice, I had forgotten to bring a fresh book. After doing my part, I discovered a broken-down bahay kubo near where I was sitting and since I had nothing to do, I decided to stretch out and relax inside it. However, I was brutally driven out by my class advisor, who in my opinion is inane at times. I wasn’t allowed to wait for the play rehearsals to end there, and I didn’t see the reason why. Pissing her off seemed a good thing to do, so I instead carried out a few loud conversations with my schoolmates while practice was going on. Alas, it drew her ire. I was given quite a lecture on the unselfish spirit of advent after dinner, and was repeatedly told that I had no heart. Wow, I thought. I wonder what keeps my blood circulating, if my heart is missing. According to her, I only cared about myself and no one else, and I was like a robot that only operated on cold logic without any feelings for others. That got me thinking. Am I really that bad, or is she just exaggerating? I came to the conclusion that in any event, if I wanted to get back at my class advisor, I wouldn’t do it in my mother’s play. She put in too much sweat making it happen already. What’s more, there might actually be something about this spirit of Advent business. Although I think I might have been brainwashed by her when I wrote the first part of this article… with a mom like mine, you never know.
Smells like Christmas spirit
Christmas is drawing near, inevitably, inexorably. Life goes on, and we see malls packed with people, cars filling up streets, and children who know Santa Claus as a fellow who brings them presents. They behave, but only so they won’t find a lump of coal in their stockings or under their tree. But if you look past the smog and the grime, past the throngs and the plastic Christmas trees, you’ll see what many people today are missing, the true spirit of Christmas. Nowadays, this spirit is pretty hard to find. People look at the material side of Christmas, at shiny new toys, high-tech gadgets, and the like. We need to look at the spiritual side of Christmas, for once. Not even the newest video iPod can match up to quality time spent with your grandparents and relatives. I remember when I was a kid; I’d get so engrossed with my new playthings that I’d pay no attention to anything around me on Christmas day. My cousins and I would get together, and we’d brag about what we’d got. We didn’t give one thought to why we got them or who gave them. Back in the days of the oldies, stuff like oranges and sweets would satisfy most children, since by not getting a lump of coal they proved to themselves that they were capable of behaving. At present times, no one ever thinks that. They’re all about the material stuff.
The faculty of my school, headed by my headstrong mother, decided to let the entire Manila Waldorf School present a Christmas, or Advent, play to the parents. This was the school’s gift to them in true spirit of Advent. The script itself was written by a Waldorf school teacher abroad, but my mom adapted it for our use. She also took charge of directing the entire performance, and nearly worked herself to death with all the preparations. She’s pretty much the big cheese of the play. It’s going to be performed the day this article comes out. I can’t tell you much about the story, since I just play Payapang Daigdig in between two scenes. The rest of the time, I’m hidden away behind the stage next to the lone piano. Since the play was first scheduled, I never gave a rat’s ass about it except to play my violin the best I could. That was the only thing I was required to do. So while all the other classes were singing in the rehearsals backstage, I was usually slouched in my seat, with my nose buried into a Michael Crichton novel. On one such practice, I had forgotten to bring a fresh book. After doing my part, I discovered a broken-down bahay kubo near where I was sitting and since I had nothing to do, I decided to stretch out and relax inside it. However, I was brutally driven out by my class advisor, who in my opinion is inane at times. I wasn’t allowed to wait for the play rehearsals to end there, and I didn’t see the reason why. Pissing her off seemed a good thing to do, so I instead carried out a few loud conversations with my schoolmates while practice was going on. Alas, it drew her ire. I was given quite a lecture on the unselfish spirit of advent after dinner, and was repeatedly told that I had no heart. Wow, I thought. I wonder what keeps my blood circulating, if my heart is missing. According to her, I only cared about myself and no one else, and I was like a robot that only operated on cold logic without any feelings for others. That got me thinking. Am I really that bad, or is she just exaggerating? I came to the conclusion that in any event, if I wanted to get back at my class advisor, I wouldn’t do it in my mother’s play. She put in too much sweat making it happen already. What’s more, there might actually be something about this spirit of Advent business. Although I think I might have been brainwashed by her when I wrote the first part of this article… with a mom like mine, you never know.
The faculty of my school, headed by my headstrong mother, decided to let the entire Manila Waldorf School present a Christmas, or Advent, play to the parents. This was the school’s gift to them in true spirit of Advent. The script itself was written by a Waldorf school teacher abroad, but my mom adapted it for our use. She also took charge of directing the entire performance, and nearly worked herself to death with all the preparations. She’s pretty much the big cheese of the play. It’s going to be performed the day this article comes out. I can’t tell you much about the story, since I just play Payapang Daigdig in between two scenes. The rest of the time, I’m hidden away behind the stage next to the lone piano. Since the play was first scheduled, I never gave a rat’s ass about it except to play my violin the best I could. That was the only thing I was required to do. So while all the other classes were singing in the rehearsals backstage, I was usually slouched in my seat, with my nose buried into a Michael Crichton novel. On one such practice, I had forgotten to bring a fresh book. After doing my part, I discovered a broken-down bahay kubo near where I was sitting and since I had nothing to do, I decided to stretch out and relax inside it. However, I was brutally driven out by my class advisor, who in my opinion is inane at times. I wasn’t allowed to wait for the play rehearsals to end there, and I didn’t see the reason why. Pissing her off seemed a good thing to do, so I instead carried out a few loud conversations with my schoolmates while practice was going on. Alas, it drew her ire. I was given quite a lecture on the unselfish spirit of advent after dinner, and was repeatedly told that I had no heart. Wow, I thought. I wonder what keeps my blood circulating, if my heart is missing. According to her, I only cared about myself and no one else, and I was like a robot that only operated on cold logic without any feelings for others. That got me thinking. Am I really that bad, or is she just exaggerating? I came to the conclusion that in any event, if I wanted to get back at my class advisor, I wouldn’t do it in my mother’s play. She put in too much sweat making it happen already. What’s more, there might actually be something about this spirit of Advent business. Although I think I might have been brainwashed by her when I wrote the first part of this article… with a mom like mine, you never know.