Reykjavík Grapevine - 15.08.2014, Side 18

18
The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 12 — 2014
Perhaps more reminiscent of the edu-
cation you might receive from listen-
ing to a great-grandmother’s stories
than a chalk-to-the-blackboard lec-
ture, the Elfschool is a controversial
choice for one’s education. At its best,
the Elfschool is an oral history archi-
val project meant to give a voice to
those who have witnessed the invis-
ible world and to spread this knowl-
edge to those who will listen. But at its
worst, Elfschool is a challenging after-
noon spent eating pancakes (okay, that
part is awesome) and listening to the
ramblings of a headmaster who might
make you feel more confused than en-
lightened.
One thing is sure though, Elfschool
won’t bore you. And, if you really want
to, you might just leave a believer.
Learning the ELFabet

I was the first to arrive to class and
was shown to my seat by an inviting
assistant. Shuffling past dusty books
in old banana boxes stacked taller than
I am (and I’m quite tall), I was given a
study book to peruse while waiting for
class to begin. More akin to a lived-in
sitting room, our classroom was cosy
and cluttered, with tchotchkes and
old books bursting from every avail-
able space. To my left stood a colourful
figurine of Grýla, the Icelandic giant-
ess with a penchant for frightening
children, and to my right a waist-high
garden ornament in the style of one of
Snow White’s seven dwarves. After
a few minutes, I was greeted by the
smiles of three more eager classmates,
and then the headmaster himself.
“I’ve never seen elves”, Magnús start-
ed, “but I’ve researched them for more
than 30 years.” Ready or not, Elfschool
is in session!
It’s important that I admit two
things:
1) I am an elf sceptic. I started as an
elf sceptic and I remain an elf sceptic.
Magnús would be quick to point to my
“imperialistic American upbringing”
(his words, not mine) as cause of my
scepticism; however, let’s not dwell on
this too much.
2) I had a rather particular expec-
tation of Elfschool going into class.
Incorrectly, I anticipated kitsch in a
context that might seem a caricature of
a school—desks in a row facing a chalk-
board, dunce cap in the corner (perhaps
one for bad elves as well?), pop quizzes
and groan-inducing homework, the
whole shebang. But rather than making
a mockery of itself for a few shits and
giggles, Elfschool
takes itself and its
mission seriously.
I’m now of the
opinion that no two
sessions of Elfschool
are alike, and this
has much to do with
its irregular student
body. The number
of students in any
given class can’t
be guaranteed and
their motivations
for being there are
even more unpredictable. As a result,
Magnús’s lectures are mutable to the
interests of his audience. “We get two
kinds of visitors to the Elfschool,” the
headmaster explains. “The majority
are those who are curious and want to
hear some sort of logic behind the ‘elf
issue.’ The second
type is elf-enthu-
siasts.” Lucky for
me, my classmates
were of the second
variety; in fact,
they were enthu-
siasts of all things
supernatural and
had made one an-
other’s acquain-
tance at a centre
for Wiccan stud-
ies. Yes, folks, my
classmates were
witches! Their enthusiasm for elves
then goes without question. As a re-
sult, our particular class format was
more indulgent than instructional.
Reykjavík’s Elfschool is an institution of learning unlike
anything you’ve experienced before. Nestled on the second
floor of a nondescript building in the commercial neigh-
bourhood Skeifan, this one-of-a-kind school purports to
teach “everything that is known about elves and hidden
people,” according to its founder and headmaster, Magnús
Skarphéðinsson. For 26 years, Magnús has taught students
about where elves live, what they think of humans, and told
stories from those people—“witnesses,” as he calls them—
who have seen, heard, or made contact with the invisible
world.
In A Class
By ItsELF
A visit to Reykjavík’s Elfschool
Words by Michael Leonard
Photos by Julia Staples
Education | Higher
Elfschool is unique in the world. Ac-
cording to Magnús, there is no other
school that teaches about elves or
hidden peoples.
The main goal of Magnús and his elf
school is to “restore the friendship
between humans and elves,” which
Magnús believes once existed and
could exist again in the future.
Elfschool has operated for 26 years,
taught roughly 9,000 students, and
averages anywhere from 500 to 600
students per year.
The majority of Elfschool schol-
ars have been German, British and
American; however, would-be elf
scholars come from all over the
world. Surprisingly, Magnús be-
lieves only TWO Icelanders have
ever attended Elfschool (one hap-
pened to be there for my own ses-
sion). Elfschool is conducted in
English but can be held in any of the
Scandinavian languages if the en-
tire group so chooses.
Elfschool
Facts
Continues Over
Still haven't had your fill of Hidden People? Go hang out on our website, www.
grapevine.is. There are plenty more elves to be found over there, rest assured.
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