Christmas in schools: anything new?
That Nadal doesn't go to school causes immense sadness. Why, for some strange reason of "respect for diversity" misunderstood, are children denied the chance to know the shepherd boy, the shepherdess Catalina, the mule and the ox, the singing angels, good Joseph, the boy, the raisins and the figs, the little hen, or the little devil? No, there are no Advent calendars, no Three Kings, no whistle, no puppy's woof, and no chick's chirp. No, none of these will go to school, nor will they go to Bethlehem, to Bethlehem, please.
Visiting a school near Barcelona, the headmistress—I hadn't asked her anything—made it clear that Christmas wasn't celebrated there. Her tone was smug, like when they explain they're an innovative or green school. You arrive in the middle of December expecting hallways filled with drawings, stars, and baubles, and what do you find? Just a Tió de Nadal (a traditional Catalan Christmas log), hidden away in the entrance, as if to say, "Yes, I'm here... but not for long." Alone, without company, watching the stars go by and wondering how it ended up being the only test that awaits on December 25th and the smoke, smoke, smoke.
The Tió seems to have become the most accepted element. Is it because it represents winter? Or because it brings gifts? Although it also sparks debate for some: Tió with a barretina or Tió with a bow tie? Tió, you mean? Why, if we're a secular school?
Celebrating Christmas or Winter Holidays remains a dilemma in many faculty meetings. In recent years, some have softened their stance and become less restrictive: "We can sing a carol, but only one, only if…" Others won't even allow that. This was reported by… this same newspaper A few days ago, many public schools celebrated the winter solstice, with teachers, children, and families singing winter songs together. But this wasn't the case everywhere. With common sense and the wisdom of a teacher, Mar Hurtado, president of the Rosa Sensat Association, reminded ARA of the responsibility schools have as transmitters of the country's popular culture and the shared values it embodies. Otherwise, "children grow up without putting down roots in the country where they were born or that welcomes them; it's not about teaching, in this case, but about fostering a sense of belonging."
Whether or not to celebrate Christmas in schools is a debate that says more about us than about the newly arrived students. It is we who often feel conflicted about reproducing traditions we no longer share and which, increasingly, seem strange or uncomfortable to many in a secularized Catalan society. Attributing this tension to the arrival of families from other cultures and religions is unfair and, above all, dangerous: it helps us generate racism and Islamophobia—leading us to say that the newcomers are depriving us of our own traditions—under the false pretense of defending secularism. And we can find ourselves, without realizing it, caught between religious fundamentalists and atheist fundamentalists. Because ignorance of the past and tradition is a breeding ground for contempt and hatred. And a real danger in today's European context.
However, beyond the transmission of a tradition or culture, what are we celebrating? What is the difference in message depending on whether it's Christmas or the winter solstice? This is where much is at stake, if we don't want to abandon the holiday to consumerism, twinkling lights, and overindulgence, and resign ourselves to a Christmas devoid of meaning. How do we reinterpret and give contemporary meaning to the great foundational narratives? This is the true challenge, for believers and non-believers alike.
Why does Christmas coincide with the winter solstice? If, centuries before Christianity existed, the peoples of the Earth were already celebrating the arrival of the winter solstice, it's because it had a meaning: at the moment when the night was deepest and the darkness seemed eternal, a light began to reappear, and the days, step by step, grew longer. Why shouldn't we rejoice at this first sign of rebirth? Long before Christmas, the first cry and shout of a newborn child already held extraordinary significance for all humanity across the globe, and was cause for celebration. For believers and non-believers alike, a birth is the arrival of newness. It is the possibility that, in this old and weary world of ours, we can open ourselves to the hope of a new beginning.
What is the great challenge for educators today—in times of unrest, war, hunger, and disillusionment—as we face the Christmas season? Why shouldn't we invite children, regardless of their religion or traditions, to celebrate life and light? Perhaps the current context calls for the celebration, food, and gifts—elements of a time for celebration, song, and sharing—to regain their meaning. A time of solidarity, exchange, friendship, and affection. We don't need to leave Christmas solely in the hands of shop windows, stores, and screens. Far removed from any desire to exclude or to redefine identity, we can reclaim ancient rituals and fill them with new life. And this involves inviting children to embrace them, making school once again a space for transmission and empowerment. As JV Foix said in verse: "In the carpenter there is novelty."
