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Alan speaks in a very symbolic and esoteric manner in some parts of his books. Although they can be read anthroposophically, passages speaking of Atlantis, archangels, gods, etc. do not need to be taken literarily to be meaningful. The more you read, the more you will realize he uses many different religions to express ideas in a symbolic manner and not in a religious manner. His writings are not religious. In some places his writings are meant to refer to religious events in a historical way. In some places he is using religious figures (from Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism, Paganism, Ancient Roman and Greek Religions, etc.) in a symbolic manner. However, at no point is he promoting a specific religion or speaking from a religious point of view.
I have kept the writing as close to one-hundred percent original so you will also find that he speaks of Australia often and some spelling or manners of speaking may be cultural. Any words I have changed are presented like this: <word>.
Also keep in mind that these books are written by a Waldorf teacher with decades of experience who also studied with a Steiner student himself, so he speaks to an audience that is dedicating their lives to the Waldorf method without exception.
Because of this, all of his views are not reflected in the Earthschooling curriculum and not all of them may be ones you want to embrace or are able to use. In all of Alan Whitehead’s writings the opinions are his own and may not align with Earthschooling or Waldorf Books. In some cases, we will be updating some of these chapters in the future with additional and/or updated information.
Ultimately, however, as I read through these passages I find I can distill wisdom from even those paragraphs that do not resonate with me.
We invite you to read with an open mind and heart and with eagerness to learn and discuss…
FIRST SUNDAY IN SEPTEMBER
Father’s Day
<This is June 18th in the United States>
It would appear that a swarm of demons would be released from Domestic Hell if same-sex marriage became legal in Australia; among these being the horror of pedophiles eventually being permitted to marry children – or even animals!
This was among many justifications, most thankfully not so bizarre, provided in an attempt to justify the retention of the man-woman status quo by speakers at a recent pro-one sex marriage meeting at Parliament House in Canberra.
Another, more measured, view was the presumed verity that every child needs both a mother and a father to assure healthy and balanced development. The Marriage Act of 1961 seems to assume so, as it is mandatory for all celebrants to state during -the ceremony that “marriage is between a man and a woman”.
The issue of fatherhood was reluctantly caught in the spotlight during the recent riots in Britain. A common assertion was that a cardinal cause of the epidemic of criminality by the country’s urban youth was due to an unfortunate juxtaposition of single-mother families. It was suggested that if a dad was present in the family, many of these young miscreants would have been too afraid to err due to what they would face by their red-faced fathers when they got home!
Broad statistics did seem to reinforce this absent or weak father supposition. For instance, the least represented youths on the street were_ from Muslim communities, where, for better or worse, patriarchal values are especially strong.
On the other end of the ‘color; spectrum the most common faces were black, where an inordinately large proportion of the young are from dysfunctional or separated families. Anecdotal evidence suggests that, in viewing one’s life, the blessing in childhood of a good and loving father (the same for mothers, of course) is a gift without peer. This is the case whether biological or adoptive.
So, on Father’s Day, a few minutes of reflection on the long-term benefits bestowed on one’s life by such a dad might be of value. Here is mine. The Roman orator, Cicero, proclaimed that not only was gratitude one of the ten primary virtues, but was the mother – father? – of all virtues.
One of the things for which I am most grateful in my life is my parents, and my dad especially. This article is my Father’s Day memorial to my father, Tan Whitehead, who died when my wife and I were in England in 1997 at age 85. Three days prior to his passing when, unknown to me, he was failing fast from lung cancer I experienced an intense gnawing anxiety. This I recorded in my travel journal. At the hour of his death, I woke up with a strange sense of peace – of release. The next day, after receiving the sad tidings from my dat1ghter, my wife and I attended a service in Westminster Abbey. Here we lit candles in tribute to our departed parents, my dad, especially.
It’s hard to categorize the gifts a parent has given one. The physical things are easy – food, shelter, protection – but it’s the intangibles which I treasure most. In my father’s case, the three at the top of the list would be a sparkling sense of humor, a heartfelt love of nature, and good old-fashioned integrity. He was an ordinary bloke, a carpenter who continued to work full-time until his 70th year. He also had a radical tum-of-character, and a healthy contempt for authority – thus he was instinctively, if not consciously, a free spirit. If there is a single psychic inheritance for which I am most grateful, it is this.
My dad allowed me maximum personal and philosophical freedom, especially as a teenager. For instance, in spite of being an only child, he acceded to, and encouraged even, my leaving both home and school at sixteen to seek my fortune in the city. Here I pursued what might be called a ‘creative’ trajectory, writing, graphic arts, drama, teaching, et al. This is not surprising, as my father was an especially creative, but more often unfulfilled, individual, being, among many other things, like drawing, singing, acting and dance, an amateur landscape photographer. Many of his beautiful pictures were published in various books and magazines, including Australian Walkabout. Most importantly, I also inherited his unqualified love for, and protection of, nature.
How I recall those bushwalks with my dad. These were delightful nature rambles where we might stop and look, with a pocket magnifying glass, into the golden womb of a tiny ground orchid – or peep into a bird’s nest to marvel at speckled eggs.
One of my fondest memories as a small child, was of riding pillion on my father’s small BSA motorbike.
This was to go bird watching out in the wilds of the Camden area of south-west Sydney. As such, I was probably one of the only children of my generation who could recognize a white-fronted chat when I saw one – and a host of other uncommon avian marvels. My father was no saint, he drank too much, and he very occasionally smacked me when I was naughty. I hold no grudge for the latter, it being the norm in the ’40s and ’50s. He certainly never abused my mother, either verbally or physically.
Dad, your timeless values live on today in your grandchildren – and hopefully in your great-grandchildren. Your paternal warmth and light persisted to the end. In your venerable eighties you would still have us all falling over with mirth round the kitchen table at some wry – and curiously oblique – observation.
In this spirit you taught me to laugh at life – or with life – hence you taught me to love life. And love, in the final analysis, is what fatherhood is all about – bon voyage, Dad.
But all are not as lucky as me in having my father around to guide and comfort me: right through my childhood. The following observations are an attempt to help enlighten parents and teachers on how to deal with the often-tragic consequences for children of the destruction of their treasured family.
This is more often the case of the children being denied the benefits of a live-in dad.
But first, as a (retired) educator of children I should make a disclaimer: I have an unashamed bias towards the young, often the most damaged victims of family break-up. Adults, having usually been at least accomplices to the events leading to this dissolution, can speak for themselves. Their children, however, remain exposed to all the potential psychological damage associated with the painful process of separation.
As such, I deeply emphasize with the suffering and deepest needs of boys and girls· who feel that both life, and their bifurcated parents, have somehow betrayed them.
This treatise might be construed as legitimizing family break-up. I remain a traditionalist in believing – for the children’s sake at least – in the benefits of parents making every effort to raise their offspring in the old-fashioned nuclear family way. The dilemma here being: is a loveless but stable family a better environment for children in which to grow up than a caring but single-parent or de facto parent family? Only those involved can make that judgement.
For the sake of brevity, as inferred above, I refer only to the father in these ruminations, in many cases the absent parent is, of course, the mother. How different is the happy birth of a child from the troubles to follow in a family condemned to split.
Here, a rejoicing herald a new human being on earth and into a loving family! If only this spirit of post-ovulation ovation could be sustained right throughout the child’s upbringing. Sadly, this joy so often sours to acrimony, resulting in the eventual separation of the hapless child’s parents.
One reassuring thought: the genetic imperative can never be taken from the child. Even if born as the result of a ‘one night stand’, or worse, the inherited characteristics are permanent. If we owe our natural parents nothing else, we owe them the gift of life, and of our physical body. At this primal level, therefore, the two most important people in a child’s life are the natural parents. However, developmentally those who actually raise the child, who day-to-day influence it, can be far more important.
Sometimes this person can even be a schoolteacher! When a child thinks of its natural father, even if it has never seen him, a subliminal chamber of the soul says, “Thus am I”.
For some reason, in order to feel whole, our genes need to know their roots. No child should be denied this. At risk of sounding heretical, in this sense the image can be even more important than the substance. How can this be? Well, substance is, by definition physical, image is rather metaphysical. It is of greater value to a child if it has a positive image of its distant, perhaps even child abusing, father, than to actually have him in the house. Even scoundrels have a noble side, if at times only physical.
For instance, a child glows with pride if his mother mentions to friends that:
“Yes, Jimmy does have lovely golden skin, just like his dad.” Though it does often stick in the craw to say so! However, this is, after all, for little Jimmie’s benefit, not his father’s. Many victims of a violent or hostile separation find it near impossible to say something positive about their erstwhile spouse. Nevertheless, it is vitally necessary for the child’s psychic well-being.
In fact, it is actually damaging to vilify the child’s absent parent, due to the ”Thus am I” factor. To refer to the absent father as a “sniveling liar” in front of the child is to evoke a potent but unconscious response, “I am a sniveling liar.”
This unjust transference lurks as a canker in the child’s soul, furtively becoming part of its self-image. It can even be self-fulfilling, developing later in life to a conviction, “Yes, I am a liar.” How better it is for Jimmy to be apprised that his father has beautiful golden skin than that he is a liar – sniveling or otherwise! If it is too onerous to find positive aspects of the dirty rat that is the child’s natural father (perhaps the mother was a rape victim?), perhaps his origins will suffice?
In one case that I advised, a troubled child was given back his paternal self-respect by being helped to focus, not on the distant and reprehensible dad as such, but on his Maori background. When the boy – part Maori himself, of course – was shown pictures of a 90-foot war canoe he swelled with pride – “Thus am f’. This naturally has an arm ‘ s-length connotation, but one still based on the immutable blood line.
On another counselling occasion, I had to redeem the defiled image of a father whom the thoughtless mum referred to as “that unwashed hippie”. Th~ result was that the unhappy child both loved and hated his dad, whom he saw on regular occasions. Some sleuthing discovered that our footloose father had joined the navy after leaving school. And no-one could be better dressed than a sailor! The simple act of placing a photo of his young, smart dad in full dress uniform in the child’s room convinced him that he was a pretty snappy guy after all. This, in, spite of his present “hippie” circumstances remaining unchanged. Subsequently, the inner filial conflict vanished.
This is an example of the battle of image and substance, with image winning hands down. “Thus am I” subliminally mused the boy as he looked fondly at the picture every day.
In such a light, the positive image of the father can serve the genetic identity needs of most of the children most of the time. In one instance, even a picture of the father ‘s snazzy car on the child’s wall did the trick – “Dad’s car, dad’s cool: ergo, I’m cool.” Warfare can only be conducted when there are two opposing sides; remove one of the protagonists, and by definition the combat ends. In a family split it is of benefit for the children if there is at least a semblance of peace. The parents of course can make the fur and feathers fly in the privacy of their own hatred! By at least one parent calling a truce and determining not to heap obloquy on the other in front of the children, the battleground falls strangely silent.
But what of the teenager in a similar situation? These simple, but not simplistic, family life dynamics change as the child matures into adolescence. Here, no amount of selective virtue-finding works. Spin-smart teenagers are aware enough to recognize reality when they see it: “I don’t care if dad does have lovely skin, mum – the bastard used to bash you up!”
Here we can’t protect our anguished young from the pain of family conflict by gentle deception. Thankfully adolescents are equipped with a whole new arsenal of soul defenses to deal with the slings and arrows of life and should be trusted to use them. The clincher here is trust: invite the teenager into the inner sanctum of your fear and pain. This sharing is vital for the emotional fortitude of you both. The splitting of a family is the second worse scenario of which a child can conceive – death of a parent/s is of course the worst. If possible, work the problem out and stay together “for the children’s sake”. If not, then separate with dignity: “I still love your father, we just can’t live together.” If not even this, at least create the impression of familial harmony. “He has his good points I suppose … Can we change the subject?” Whatever; in relating your child to their absent parent, the imperative is to put the child’s emotional wellbeing first and central. Of course, you may have to swallow a large slice of humble pie to do so, but it’s worth it, for the child’s sake.
My father, Tan Whitehead, Coffs Harbor, 1950.
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