WARSAW, Poland—“Czesc, co slychac?” (That’s Polish for ‘Hi, how’s it going?’ An awful lot of consonants in the language, I know.)
“Oh, could be better. I’ve got a bit of writer’s block,” I whine.
“Write about the 21st of March,” my friend chimes in, ever the helpful one.
Vernal equinox and the first day of spring. Big deal. She probably sensed my eyebrows knotting with puzzledom and my nose wrinkling like at a bad smell.
“Write about the Polish tradition of burning an effigy of the Slavic goddess of death and winter—Marzanna—and then dipping her in every puddle along the way to a pond, where they drown her for good measure,” she offered up.
“Hmm. That could be interesting,” I think out loud with a pucker-frown nod of approval.
The drowning of Marzanna, as it’s typically referred to, is an old pagan tradition dating back to before Christianity was introduced to Poland. It symbolizes surviving the perils of winter. Apparently, after the scorched straw effigy was finally cast into the water, you were not supposed to touch it (for fear of the offending limb drying up), look back at it as you left the pond (to avoid falling ill), and tripping and falling on the way home was especially to be avoided at all costs (doing so portended death within a year).
“But beyond the burning and drowning, there’s not much that’s exciting about the custom,” I complain again, calculating that this is really a topic that might fill maybe half an article.
“Then add that the 21st is also a grass-roots Polish holiday—The Day of Playing Truant.”
Needle-screech on the record and a Billy Idol lip curl plus raised eyebrow: “Say what?”
“Yeah, it’s a day when students cut class. It’s not official—and not really legal—but everybody knows about it and almost everybody does it,” she explained.
Apparently, playing truant day has been a tradition in these parts since time immemorial. It’s so tightly woven into the cultural fabric that not only do parents generally accept their children’s civil disobedience, but schools seem to be in on the malfeasance. As schools walk the fine line between what’s legal and what’s customary, many opt for a day of fun and frolic—but on school grounds.
In fact, after doing a bit of research I see a picture emerging of an unspoken nationwide rivalry between schools for ever more innovative ways of accommodating the inevitable without actually acquiescing to the unlawful. One of the more interesting endeavors I came across was a school that’s organizing a short-film competition, where kids write a script, act it out, video record, edit, and screen it, all in one day.
Seems to me that it’s a case of selling the kids on the illusion of truancy while keeping them technically in school and thus off the streets and out of trouble. Win-win, I guess.
“So is your daughter planning to cut class?” (She’s in high school.)
“Yep,” she says matter-of-factly. “We’re having a Hooky Party at our house.”
I chuckle at the thought of my rather conservative friend hosting a horde of truants in her home. And then it hits me that there’s a method to her madness. Not all kids fall for the school-sanctioned hooky-playing, which many see as an uncool dupe. Only the real thing counts.
This way they get to be cool, off the streets, and out of trouble.
A Polish mother’s version of win-win.
“Oh, could be better. I’ve got a bit of writer’s block,” I whine.
“Write about the 21st of March,” my friend chimes in, ever the helpful one.
Vernal equinox and the first day of spring. Big deal. She probably sensed my eyebrows knotting with puzzledom and my nose wrinkling like at a bad smell.
“Write about the Polish tradition of burning an effigy of the Slavic goddess of death and winter—Marzanna—and then dipping her in every puddle along the way to a pond, where they drown her for good measure,” she offered up.
“Hmm. That could be interesting,” I think out loud with a pucker-frown nod of approval.
The drowning of Marzanna, as it’s typically referred to, is an old pagan tradition dating back to before Christianity was introduced to Poland. It symbolizes surviving the perils of winter. Apparently, after the scorched straw effigy was finally cast into the water, you were not supposed to touch it (for fear of the offending limb drying up), look back at it as you left the pond (to avoid falling ill), and tripping and falling on the way home was especially to be avoided at all costs (doing so portended death within a year).
“But beyond the burning and drowning, there’s not much that’s exciting about the custom,” I complain again, calculating that this is really a topic that might fill maybe half an article.
“Then add that the 21st is also a grass-roots Polish holiday—The Day of Playing Truant.”
Needle-screech on the record and a Billy Idol lip curl plus raised eyebrow: “Say what?”
“Yeah, it’s a day when students cut class. It’s not official—and not really legal—but everybody knows about it and almost everybody does it,” she explained.
Apparently, playing truant day has been a tradition in these parts since time immemorial. It’s so tightly woven into the cultural fabric that not only do parents generally accept their children’s civil disobedience, but schools seem to be in on the malfeasance. As schools walk the fine line between what’s legal and what’s customary, many opt for a day of fun and frolic—but on school grounds.
In fact, after doing a bit of research I see a picture emerging of an unspoken nationwide rivalry between schools for ever more innovative ways of accommodating the inevitable without actually acquiescing to the unlawful. One of the more interesting endeavors I came across was a school that’s organizing a short-film competition, where kids write a script, act it out, video record, edit, and screen it, all in one day.
Seems to me that it’s a case of selling the kids on the illusion of truancy while keeping them technically in school and thus off the streets and out of trouble. Win-win, I guess.
“So is your daughter planning to cut class?” (She’s in high school.)
“Yep,” she says matter-of-factly. “We’re having a Hooky Party at our house.”
I chuckle at the thought of my rather conservative friend hosting a horde of truants in her home. And then it hits me that there’s a method to her madness. Not all kids fall for the school-sanctioned hooky-playing, which many see as an uncool dupe. Only the real thing counts.
This way they get to be cool, off the streets, and out of trouble.
A Polish mother’s version of win-win.
Friends Read Free