Are schools politicized? My first day visit to Orereta Ikastola forecast the complexities of this question. It was the 13th of November 1996, the students of the High School had gone on strike and the Director of the High School found it ideally suited for us to meet and talk about the scheduled visits. I was calling to reconfirm the date of my initial meeting with the Director of the Ikastola when he let me know that on occasion that he would rather meet that day to make use of the quiet solitude of the day. We agreed the Director would pick me up by a police station down the street from my apartment.

As we rode up to the school I marvelled at the beautiful country side less than a mile away from down town Rentería. Rolling hills, quaint farm houses, sheep, it was the picture of peaceful living. Studying on a campus set among these manicured hills seemed ideallic. As we rode up to the school grounds down the entrance came two basque national police cars. Antton, the School Director spoke with them and later filled me in that the police were now heading to Zamalbide. This was one of the other main roads out of Rentería used as a main fare for buses driving kids to the Ikastola. Zamalbide also crossed in front of the Public High School and the students had decided to move their strike to Zamalbide in front of the Public High School.

As we walked around the school grounds, I was impressed by the sprawling structures. There were second floors, short flights of steps accomodating levels of rooms nestled into the hilltop where the Ikastola comfortably was set. The Ikastola was sitting in several acres of land that was granted to them by a farmer. As Antton put it a patriot, that donated land to the dream of a Basque public school. Upon closer analysis, I came face to face with walls laced with political messages. The messages were scribbled on with spray can paint. These were old messages that had been left there to address year after year of students. Down a corridor I saw papers on the floor they were short manifesto’s calling to the strike.

I asked what kind of repercussions students faced when they cut school or vandalized walls. His reply encapsulated the school’s philosophy on school and politics. “We are more relaxed here, we understand that students at this age are making sense of their environment, exploring causes, exercising their opinions and activism. Our policy is to give their freedom of expression space and try through our education to help them find their way.” The school saw itself as forming active citizens. There in the hallways and classrooms individuals were practicing and refining their opinions and calls to action.

I asked if the confronted with such understanding framework the students did not decide to go on strike more often, so much so to interfere with their progress. It seems a silent pact had been drawn where each year saw no more than 2 strikes or walk outs more or less. It was part of the balance the students had to find.

Antton made it clear that the school administration did not endorse the opinions. In fact, over time teachers let me know that they dissented with the students’ calls to action, thinking of such permissive attitudes as waisting time on naive or romantic opinions of some but which for many were just another opportunity to cut class. I sensed a desire for stricter control over the student body. But, in this our very first meeting, Antton, perhaps anticipating what conversations would unfold, made it clear that his authority to take decisive action in the Ikastola was conditioned by the Ikastolas’ decision making body.

The Ikastola was a community organization where parents, teachers, administrators and neighbors were members with a voice and vote on any major Ikastola decision. Teachers alerted me to an ocassional tug of war that went on beyond the control of teachers or the administration. In the end, though teachers may have dissented with parents and lost, teachers overwhelmingly were committed to the ideal of a “Basque public school” or now that it was private, a “Basque national school system” where the Basque language, traditions, values, history and future were being saved.
My tour of the empty corridors of Orereta Ikastola ended but my curiosity had been tweeked. As I walked out I looked at the view and asked what lay behind the school. Oiartzun, I was told. As I left my meeting with Antton, he walked me down to the building 200 yards away where the first graders were in full session. Antton introduced me to the first grade teacher with whom I´d be visiting. At the teacher’s invitation, I chose to accept the invitation and stay on for a while so I could chat with the teacher once the students broke for the day.

The children spilled out to the yard to play and wait for the bus. I was just about to mention how oblivious the kids were to all the activity in the High School when suddenly a young boy climbed up on a ledge and started yelling some political slogan that he must have overheard. I looked to the teacher in disbelief. The children were gathering around the young boy who was half laughing and raising his fist chanting enthusiastically.

“They pick it up from the streets. It is in the air and they just repeat it not knowing what they say” the teacher explained with a tone of heavy set resignation. Some of the kids gathering around repeated the slogan and lifted fists, though to be fair most did not. The teacher called the young boy to lower his voice and climb down. It was a matter of fact statement that these children could not be isolated from the politics of the day. “Some even have the need to deal with it. By acting out what they see, they are attempting to understand it better and deal with their emotions. We try to keep the peace and at the same time help them understand what they see and hear.” the teacher explained.

The teacher’s name was Amaia and she exuded a gentle and calm demeanor that was comforting. Though soft spoken in the year ahead she would prove to be a source of great insight into the dynamics of schools, families, and the town. An elegant private bus drove up and picked up the kids, Amaia introduced me to the bus driver and the mom’s aboard and asked to have them drop me off in the town.