Purpose filled each countenance as they marched from
the amphitheater, banners of their respective city-states floating jewels in
the spring sun. Sparta, Athens, Corinth,
Delphi, and
Thebes: each citizen knew why he or she
had come – to participate, to offer one’s best effort to the gods. The discus offered on an outstretched hand to
the sky, javelin pointed toward the heavens, the intricate dance in the
wrestler’s circle, the perfect form of a runner, the attempt at flight in the
long jump: the elements of the pentathlon were as much art as sport, offerings
of the best efforts of humanity.
Once upon a time, in an almost mythic past,
athletics were art – examples of beauty, grace, and style offered to one’s
deity of choice rather than efforts of extremism offered to the almighty
dollar. Considering that, with weekly
examples of athletes behaving badly rampaging through the media, even the
notion of sportsmanship seems quaint, it may be laughably naïve to plead a return
to a standard of art in athletics. Yet,
our societal impulses regarding competition seem in dire need of an
overhaul. At one end of the spectrum, we
have athletes justifying the use of illegal drugs because superhuman feats of
strength and speed are expected of them.
Somehow, public demand for spectacle trumps ethics. On this side, too, lies the hypercompetitive,
cutthroat realm of youth sports. We’ve
all heard the horror stories: high-schoolers (or is it down to junior high
now?) doping with steroids or cheating on exams to maintain eligibility,
parents screaming abuse at coaches, referees, and kids, fights between adults
on Little League playing fields. At the
opposite pole, we have trophies for 10th place, medals for
“participation”, elaborate graduations from pre-school and kindergarten,
certificates for “best smile.”
What lessons are being taught to our future
adults? From my perspective, it seems
that kids learn that money, power, and glory belong only to the strong, fast,
and sneaky, and that for the rest of us, just showing up is good enough. I’ll grant that some of the ideals of the
ancient inhabitants of the Hellenic peninsula were less than, well, ideal. Abandoning one’s infant to the elements for
physical weakness has to be the ultimate example of horrific jock parenting. But, bear with me for a minute, the point will
come.
Now, go back
to the first paragraph, return to the sunlit hills and ancient oaks and
pines. Look closely at the athletes
marching behind the banners of their city-states. The faces are still slightly round, features
not fully formed, faint hints of what they will become; most of the bodies are
under 5 feet tall, some are lanky and awkward, some delicate and lithe, some
plump. None of the bodies are draped in
linen, nor, for that matter, nude. Jewel
toned T-shirts are the uniforms donned by these warriors, these proud
Hellenes-for-a-day. Welcome to the
Waldorf Schools Pentathlon for Northern California.
In the Waldorf curriculum, fifth grade academics
focus on ancient civilizations.
Beginning in Mesopotamia, the children journey over the year throughout
India, Persia, Egypt, and conclude their expedition in ancient Greece. This journey trains the body even as the mind
learns. Games class in fifth grade is
devoted to pentathlon training. At Davis
Waldorf School, our much-beloved games teacher Brian Wolfe worked tirelessly
and thoroughly with the fifth grade, teaching them technique and form for each
event, training their muscles and minds.
This coaching was thorough to the point that when Caitlin came home the
afternoon prior to the event, she very seriously informed about her nutritional
needs for the evening. My daughter, who
normally guards all school-related information with CIA approved security, went
on to tell me exactly where they were going to go once they arrived at the host
school in the morning, and what would happen at each point during the day.
In the Waldorf pentathlon, the children are assigned
to city-states based on temperament.
Thus competitive kids compete against those of like mind, the more
mellow against their peers. The maternal
cameras instinctively picked the kids from “our class” out of the T-shirted
multitudes of each city-state. On each
of the familiar faces that day, I saw the same expression of resolve. These kids were here to participate, and each
intended to give it his or her best. Watching
one of Caitlin’s often flighty classmates take her position for the discus, I
stopped mid-sentence, mid-breath.
Holding her disc aloft, the girl dropped to one knee in a position taken
straight from Greek art. “She’s
beautiful; she could be on an urn,” I whispered to her mother.
“I know;she told me, ‘Mom, I know I’m not going to
throw it the farthest, so I’m going to go for beauty, grace, and style.’” That was the effort that each of our kids
showed that day. They may not have all
been the fastest, the strongest, or the biggest, but they all went for beauty,
grace, and style. These attributes
manifested in the perfectly positioned arms and upright heads of the runners,
in the angle of the javelins, the extension of arm with disc, and they showed
in smaller things, things unrelated to technique. Beauty, grace, and style were present when
one of Caitlin’s classmates fell at the beginning of his long race. Not tripped, fell. Total face plant. Grace, you ask. Yes.
Grace when he regained his footing and ran, catching all but the first
two runners by the finish, though all had at least a 50 yard lead. Beauty, grace, and style were shown by a boy,
from another school, who stopped during his race to check a fallen runner. Beauty grace and style came to the fore as
the kids cheered each other on and wrapped consoling arms around the shoulders
of those whose muscles had failed them.
I saw nothing but beauty, grace, and extraordinary style as I watched
Caitlin run her quarter mile with perfect form, dead last, but never once
faltering in her effort to catch the runners in front.
When the laurels were awarded to each city-state,
wreaths were bestowed for first, second, and third place in each event, and two
wreaths were given for beauty, grace, and style in that event. From DWS, some of our kids placed in some
events, some won laurels for beauty, grace, and style, but all of them left the
temple of the gods standing straighter, shining in the sun, and knowing that
they had accomplished what they came for.
For them, the winners were not only the big, strong and fast, and just
showing up wasn’t nearly good enough.
They strived to please the gods.
Side note: As
a proud mom, I have to mention that Caitlin received a laurel for beauty,
grace, and style in the 40 yard dash.
