| Observing Helga by Julie Batsel, Class of 2008 Ed. Learning to see more clearly, and appreciating what one sees, is one of the first steps toward becoming a Waldorf teacher. To that end, First Year students attempt an objective, yet warm description of a stranger they have observed. It's happening! San Francisco is abuzz in Golden Gate Park with the 36-hour gala celebration of the new de Young Museum. At 7:30 a.m. the demographic of the crowd shifts from wild, disruptive revelers to the sensible and stately sect of the city. One such attendee, Helga, sits at a round table, which is draped in an elegant floor-length cloth. Helga quietly enjoys her Sunday paper while consuming a bowl of fruity museum fare. Straight white hair sweeps thickly across her forehead and flares to a close crop of gray, which curves above diamond-studded ears. A smooth band of gold encircles her thin arm, which extends from a fuzzy black frock. After chewing discreetly with her mouth closed, Helga wrinkles her nose and sniffs. Something catches Helga's attention; she stops chewing and lowers her face as she tries to gain a better view. She shakes her newspaper taught and disappears behind its pages. Moments pass. She sniffs again, folds the paper and stands. Helga leans across the table to clear it of garbage. She straightens, and a mission settles into her expression. Off she walks, with hands full of detritus. She covers the ground with small, timid steps. She returns, still laden with her small load. She approaches two large women who've made themselves comfortable in her absence. It is hard to determine her mood until, smiling, she speaks to the strangers. "There are no trash cans! I walked all around and there are none!" she says. Finally she sees two wait staff whose empty outstretched trays receive her burden of garbage. Helga walks back toward the gallery. She stops, waits, sighs, and consciously straightens her posture. Soon a gentleman joins her. Glancing at a map, Helga leads the way back into the fray of opening day. |
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