BOYS AND GIRLS AT THE WALDORF SCHOOL
From the things I have already said it may perhaps be clear to you
what all education and teaching in the Waldorf School is designed to
bring about. It aims at bringing up children to be human beings strong
and sound in body, free in soul and lucid in spirit. Physical health
and strength, freedom of soul and clarity of spirit are things mankind
will require in the future more than anything else, particularly in
social life. But in order to educate and teach in this way it is
necessary for the teacher to get a thorough mastery of those things I
have attempted to describe.
The teacher must have a complete vision of the child organism; and it
must be a vision of the organism enabling him to judge physical
health. For only one who is truly a judge of physical health and can
bring it into harmony with the soul can say to himself: with this
child this must be done, and with that child the other.
It is an accepted opinion to-day that a doctor should have access to
schools. The system of school doctors is developing widely. But, just
as it not good when the different branches of instruction, the
different subjects, are given to different teachers who make no
contact with one another, neither is it good to place the charge of
physical health in the hands of a person who is not a member of the
staff, not a member of the college of teachers. The situation presents
a certain difficulty, of which the following incident will give you an
example.
On an occasion when we were showing visitors over the Waldorf School
there was a gentleman who, in his official capacity, was an inspector
of schools. I was speaking of the physical health and the physical
organism of the children and what one could observe in it, and I told
him about one child who has a certain disorder of the heart, and
another with some other disability etc. and then the man exclaimed in
astonishment: Yes, but your teachers would have to have medical
knowledge for this to be of any use in the school.
Well, yes, if it is truly a necessity for healthy education that
teachers should have a certain degree of medical know-ledge, why then
they must have it, they must attain it. Life cannot be twisted to suit
the idiosyncrasies of men, we must frame our arrangements in
accordance with the demands of life. Just as we must learn something
before we can do something in other spheres, so must we learn
something before we can do something in education.
Thus, for instance, it is necessary for a teacher to see precisely all
that is happening when a child plays, a little child. Play involves a
whole complex of activities of soul: joy, sometimes also pain,
sympathy, antipathy; and particularly curiosity and the desire for
knowledge. A child wants to investigate the objects he plays with and
see what they are made of. And when observing this free activity of
the child's soul — an activity unconstrained as yet into any form
of work — when observing this entirely spontaneous expression, we
must look to the shades of feeling and notice whether it satisfies or
does not satisfy. For if we guide the child's play so as to content
him we improve his health, for we are promoting an activity which is
in direct touch with his digestive system. And whether or not a man
will be subject in old age to obstruction in his blood circulation and
digestive system depends upon how his play is guided in childhood.
There is a fine, a delicate connection between the way a child plays
and the growth and development of its physical organism.
One should not say: the physical organism is a thing of little
account; I am an idealist and cannot concern myself with such a low
thing as the physical organism. This physical organism has been put
into the world by the divine spiritual powers of the world, it is a
divine creation, and we must realise that we, as educators, are called
upon to co-operate in this spiritual creation. I would rather express
my meaning by a concrete example than in abstract sentences.
Suppose children show an extreme form, a pathological form of what we
call the melancholic disposition; or suppose you get an extreme form,
a pathological form of the sanguine temperament. The teacher must
know, then, where the border-line comes between what is simply
physical and what is pathological. If he observes that a melancholic
child is tending to become pathological, — and this is far more
often the case than one would think, — he must get into touch
with the child's parents and learn from them what diet the child as
been having. He will then discover a connection between this diet and
the child's pathological melancholy. He will probably find, — to
give a concrete instance, though there might be other causes, —
he will probably find that the child has been getting too little sugar
in the food he is given at home. Owing to lack of sugar in the food he
gets, the working of his liver is not regulated properly. For the
peculiarity of the melancholic child is that a certain substance i.e.
starch, (German: Starke) is formed in the liver indeed, but not formed
in the right measure. This substance is also to be found in plants.
All human beings form starch in the liver but it is different from
plant starch — it is an animal starch which in the liver
immediately becomes transformed into sugar. This transformation of
animal starch into sugar is a very important part of the activity of
the liver. Now, m the melancholic child this is out of order, and one
must advise the mother to put more sugar into the child's food; in
this way one can regulate the glycogenic activity of the liver, —
as it is called. And you will see what an extraordinary effect this
purely hygienic measure will have.
Now, in the sanguine child you will find precisely the opposite: most
likely he is being gorged with sugar; he is given too many sweets, he
is given too much sugar in his food. If he has been made voracious of
sugar precisely the opposite activity will come about. The liver is an
infinitely important organ, and it is an organ which resembles a
sense-organ much more closely than one would imagine. For, the purpose
of the liver is to perceive the whole human being from within, to
comprehend him. The liver is vital to the whole human being. Hence its
organisation differs from that of other organs. In other organs a
certain quantum of arterial blood comes in and a certain quantum of
venous blood goes out. The liver has an extra arrangement. A special
vein enters the liver and supplies the liver with extra venous blood.
This has the effect of making the liver into a kind of world of its
own, a world apart in the human being.
[Literally “Aussenwelt,” — outer world.]
And it is this that enables man
to perceive himself by means of the liver, to perceive, that is, what
affects his organism. The liver is an extraordinarily fine barometer
for sensing the kind of relation the human being has to the outer
world. You will effect an extraordinary improvement in the case of a
pathologically sanguine child — a flighty child, one who flits
nervously from thing to thing — you will get a remarkable
improvement if you advise his mother to diminish somewhat the amount
of sugar she gives him.
Thus, if you are a real teacher, through what you do, not in school,
but at other times, you can give the child such guidance as shall make
him truly healthy, strong and active in all his physical functions.
And you will notice what enormous importance this has for the
development of the whole human being.
Some of the most impressive experiences we have had with the children
of the Waldorf School have been with those of fifteen or sixteen years
old. We began the Waldorf School with eight classes, the elementary
classes, but we have added on, class by class, a ninth, tenth and now
an eleventh class. These upper classes, — which are of course
advanced classes, not elementary classes, — contain the children
of 15 and 16 years old. And we have with these very special
difficulties. Some of these difficulties are of a psychical and moral
nature. I will speak of these later. But even in the physical respect
one finds that man's nature tends continuously to become pathological
and has to be shielded from this condition.
Among girls, in certain circumstances, you will find a slight tendency
to chlorosis, to anaemia, in the whole developing organism. The blood
in the girl's organism becomes poor; she becomes pale, anaemic. This
is due to the fact that during these 14th, 15th and 16th years the
spiritual nature is separated out from the total organism; and this
spiritual nature, which formerly worked within the whole being,
regulated the blood. Now the blood is left to itself. Therefore it
must be rightly prepared so that its own power may accomplish this
larger task. Girls are apt, then, to become pale, anaemic: and one
must know that this anaemia comes about when one has failed to arouse
a girl's interest in the things one has been teaching or telling her.
Where attention and interest are kept alive the whole physical
organism participates in the activity which is engaging the inmost
self of the human being, and then anaemia does not arise in the same
way.
With boys the case is opposite. The boys get a kind of neuritis, a
condition in which there is too much blood in the brain. Hence during
these years the brain behaves as though it were congested with blood.
(Blutuberfullt.) In girls we find a lack of blood in the body: in boys
a superabundance, particularly in the head, — a superabundance of
white blood, which is a wrong form of venous and arterial blood. This
is because the boys have been given too many sensations, they have
been overstimulated, and have had to hurry from sensation to sensation
without pause or proper rest. And you will see that even the
troublesome behaviour and difficulties among 14, 15 and 16 year old
children are characteristic of this state and are connected with the
whole physical development.
When one can view the nature of man in this way, not despising what is
physical and bodily, one can do a great deal for the children's health
as a teacher or educator. It must be a fundamental principle that
spirituality is false the moment it leads away from the material to
some castle in the clouds. If one has come to despising the body, and
to saying: O the body is a low thing, it must be suppressed, flouted:
one will most certainly not acquire the power to educate men soundly.
For, you see, you may leave the physical body out of account, and
perhaps you may attain to a high state of abstraction in your
spiritual nature, but it will be like a balloon in the air, flying
off. A spirituality not bound to what is physical in life can give
nothing to social evolution on the earth: and before one can wing
one's way into the Heavens one must be prepared for the Heavens. This
preparation has to take place on earth.
When men seek entry into Heaven and must pass the examination of
death, it is seldom, in these materialistic days, that we find they
have given a spiritual nurture to this human physical organism, —
this highest creation of divine, spiritual beings upon earth.
I will speak of the psychic moral aspect in the next section, and on
Eurhythmy in the section following.
If there is a great deal to do in the physical sphere apart from the
educational measures taken in the school itself, the same is true for
the domain of the soul, the psychic domain, and for that of the
spirit. The important thing is to get the human being even while at
school to be finding a right entry into life. Once more I will
illustrate the aim of the Waldorf School by concrete examples rather
than abstract statements.
It is found necessary at the end of a school year to take stock of the
work done by a child during the year. This is generally called: a
report on the child's progress and attainment in the different
subjects in respect of the work set. In many countries the parents or
guardians are informed whether the child has come up to standard and
how — by means of figures: 1, 2, 3, 4; each number means that a
child has reached a certain proficiency in a given subject.
Some-times, when you are not quite sure whether 3 or 4 expresses the
correct degree of attainment, you write 3 ½, and some teachers, making
a fine art of calculation, have even put down 3 ¼. And I must own
that I have never been able to acquire this art of expressing human
faculties by such numbers.
The reports in the Waldorf School are produced in another manner.
Where the body of teachers, the college of teachers, is such a unity
that every child in the school is known to some extent by every
teacher, it becomes possible to give an account of the child which
relates to his whole nature. Thus the report we make on a child at the
end of the school year resembles a little biography, it is like an
apercus of the experiences one has had with the child during
the year, both in school and out.
In this way the child and his parents, or guardians, have a mirror
image of what the child is like at this age. And we have found at the
Waldorf School that one can put quite severe censure into this
mirror-like report and children accept it contentedly. Now we also
write something else in the report. We combine the past with the
future. We know the child, and know whether he is deficient in will,
in feeling or in thought, we know whether this emotion or the other
predominates in him. And in the light of this knowledge, for every
single child in the Waldorf School we make a little verse, or saying.
This we inscribe in his report. It is meant as a guiding line for the
whole of the next year at school. The child learns this verse by heart
and bears it in mind. And the verse works upon the child's will, or
upon his emotions or mental peculiarities, modifying and balancing
them.
Thus the report is not merely an intellectual expression of what the
child has done, but it is a power in itself and continues to work
until the child receives a new report. And one must indeed come to
know the individuality of a child very accurately — as you will
realise — if one is to give him a report of such a potent nature
year by year.
You can also see from this that our task in the Waldorf School is not
the founding of a school which requires exceptional external
arrangements. What we hold to be of value is the pedagogy and teaching
which can be introduced into any school. (We appreciate the influence
of external conditions upon the education in any school). We are not
revolutionaries who simply say: town schools are no use, all schools
must be in the country, and such-like; we say, rather: the conditions
of life produce this or that situation; we take the conditions as they
are, and in every kind of school we work for the welfare of man
through a pedagogy and didactics which take the given surroundings
into account. Thus, working along these lines, we find we are largely
able to dispense with the system of “staying put,” —
the custom of keeping back a child a second year in the same class so
as to make him brighter.
We have been blamed at the Waldorf School for having children in the
upper classes whom the authorities think should have been kept back.
We find it exceedingly difficult, if only on humane grounds, to leave
children behind because our teachers are so attached to their children
that many tears would be shed if this had to be done. The truth is
that an inner relationship arises between children and teacher, and
this is the actual cause of our being able to avoid this unhappy
custom, this “staying put.” But apart from this there is no
sense in this keeping of children back. For, suppose we keep back a
boy or girl in a previous class: the boy or girl may be so constituted
that his mind unfolds in his 11th year, we shall then be putting the
child in the class for 11 year-old children one year too late. This is
much more harmful than that the teacher should at some time have extra
trouble with this child because it has less grasp of the subjects and
must yet be taken on with the others into the next class.
The special class (Hilfsklasse) is only for the most backward children
of all. We have only one special class into which we have to take the
weak, or backward children of all the other classes. We have not had
enough money for a number of “helping” classes; but this one
class has an exceptionally gifted teacher, Dr. Schubert. As for him,
well, when the question of founding a special class arose, one could
say with axiomatic certainty: You are the one to take this special
class. He has a special gift for it. He is able to make something of
the pathological conditions of the children. He handles each child
quite individually, so much so that he is happiest when he has the
children sitting around a table with him, instead of in separate
benches. The backward children, those who have a feebleness of mind,
or some other deficiency, receive a treatment here which enables them
after a while to rejoin their classes.
Naturally this is a matter of time; but we only transfer children to
this class on rare occasions; and whenever I attempt to transfer a
child from a class into this supplementary class, finding it
necessary, I have first of all to fight the matter out with the
teacher of the class who does not want to give the child up. And often
it is a wonderful thing to see the deep relationship which has grown
up between individual teachers and individual children. This means
that the education and teaching truly reach the children's inner life.
You see it is all a question of developing a method, for we are
realistic, we are not nebulous mystics; so that, although we have had
to make compromises with ordinary life, our method yet makes it
possible really to bring out a child's individual disposition; —
at least we have had many good results in these first few years.
Since, under present conditions, we have had to make compromises, it
has not been possible to give religious instruction to many of the
children. But we can give the children a moral training. We start, in
the teaching of morality, from the feeling of gratitude. Gratitude is
a definite moral experience in relation to our fellow men. Sentiments
and notions which do not spring from gratitude will lead at most to
abstract precepts as regards morality. But everything can come from
gratitude. Thus, from gratitude we develop the capacity for love and
the feeling for duty. And in this way morality leads on to religion.
But outer circumstances have prevented our figuring among those who
would take the kingdom of heaven by storm, — thus we have given
over the instruction in Catholicism into the hands of the Catholic
community. And they send to us in the school a priest of their own
faith. Thus the Catholic children are taught by the Catholic priest
and the Evangelical (protestant) children by the evangelical pastor.
The Waldorf School is not a school for a philosophy of life, but a
method of education. It was found, however, that a certain number of
children were non-conformist and would get no religious instruction
under this arrangement. But, as a result of the spirit which came into
the Waldorf School, certain parents who would otherwise not have sent
their children to any religion lesson requested us to carry the
teaching of morality on into the sphere of religion. It thus became
necessary for us to give a special religious instruction from the
standpoint of Anthroposophy. We do not even in these Anthroposophical
religion lessons teach Anthroposophy, rather we endeavour to find
those symbols and parables in nature which lead towards religion. And
we endeavour to bring the Gospel to the children in the manner in
which it must be comprehended by a spiritual understanding of
religion, etc. If anyone thinks the Waldorf School is a school for
Anthroposophy it shows he has no understanding either of Waldorf
School pedagogy or of Anthroposophy.
As regards Anthroposophy, how is it commonly under-stood? When people
talk of Anthroposophy they think it means something sectarian, because
at most they have looked up the meaning of the word in the dictionary.
To proceed in this way with regard to Anthroposophy is as if on
hearing the words: ‘Max Muller of Oxford,’ a man were to say
to himself: ‘What sort of a man can he have been? A miller who
bought corn and carted the corn to his mill and ground it into flour
and delivered it to the baker.’ A person giving such an account
of what the name of Miller conveyed to him would not say much to the
point about Max Muller, would he? But the way people talk of
Anthroposophy is just like this, it is just like this way of talking
about Max Muller, for they spin their opinion of Anthroposophy out of
the literal meaning of the word. And they take it to be some kind of
backwoods' sect; whereas it is merely that everything must have
some name.
Anthroposophy grows truly out of all the sciences, and out of life and
it was in no need of a name. But since in this terrestrial world men
must have names for things, since a thing must have some name, it is
called Anthroposophy. But just as you cannot deduce the scholar from
the name Max Muller, neither can you conclude that because we give
Anthroposophical religious instruction in the school, Anthroposophy is
introduced in the way the other religious instruction is introduced
from outside, — as though it were a competing sect.
No, indeed, I mean no offence in saying this, but others have taken us
to task about it. The Anthroposophical instruction in religion is
increasing: more and snore children come to it. And some children,
even, have run away from the other religious instruction and come over
to the Anthroposophical religion lessons. Thus it is quite
understandable that people should say: What bad people these
Anthroposophists are! They lead the children astray so that they
abandon the catholic and evangelical (protestant) religion lessons and
want to have their religious instruction there. We do all we can to
restrain the children from coming, because it is extraordinarily
difficult for us to find religion teachers in our own sphere. But, in
spite of the fact that we have never arranged for this instruction
except in response to requests from parents and the unconscious
requests of the children themselves, — to my great distress, I
might almost say: — the demand for this Anthroposophical
religious instruction increases more and more. And now thanks to this
Anthroposophical religious instruction the school has a wholly
Christian character.
You can feel from the whole mood and being of the Waldorf School how a
Christian character pervades all the teaching, how religion is alive
there; — and this in spite of the fact that we never set out to
proselytise in the Waldorf School or to connect it with any church
movement or congregational sect. I have again and again to repeat: the
Waldorf School principle is not a principle which founds a school to
promote a particular philosophy of life, — it founds a school to
embody certain educational methods. Its aims are to be achieved by
methodical means, by a method based on knowledge of man. And its aim
is to make of children human beings sound in body, free in soul, clear
in spirit.
Let me now say a few words on the significance of Eurhythmy teaching
and the educational value of eurhythmy for the child. In illustration
of what I have to say I should like to use these figures made in the
Dornach studio. They are artistic representations of the real content
of eurhythmy. The immediate object of these figures is to help in the
appreciation of artistic eurhythmy. But I shall be able to make use of
them to explain some things in educational eurhythmy. Now, eurhythmy
is essentially a visible speech, it is not miming, not pantomime,
neither is it an art of dance. When a person sings or speaks he
produces activity and movement in certain organs; this same movement
which is inherent m the larynx and other speech organs is capable of
being continued and manifested throughout the human being. In the
speech organs the movements are arrested and repressed. For instance,
an activity of the larynx which would issue in this movement (A)
— where the wings of the larynx open outward — is submerged
in status nascendi and transformed into a movement into which
the meaning of speech can be put, — and into a movement which can
pass out into the air and be heard. Here you have the original
movement of A (ah), the inner, and essentially human movement —
as we might call it —
Click image for large view
This is the movement which comes from the whole man when he breaks
forth in A (ah). Thus there goes to every utterance in speech and song
a movement which is arrested in status nascendi. But it seeks
issue in forms of movement made by the whole human being. These are
the forms of utterance in movements, and they can be discovered.
Just as there are different forms of the larynx and other organs for A
(ah), I (ee), L, M, so are there also corresponding movements and
forms of movement. These forms of movement are therefore those
expressions of will which otherwise are provided in the expressions of
thought and will of speech and song. The thought element, the abstract
part of thought in speech is here removed and all that is to be
expressed is transposed into the movement. Hence eurhythmy is an art
of movement, in every sense of the word. Just as you can hear the A so
can you see it, just as you can hear the I so can you see it.
In these figures the form of the wood is intended to express the
movement. The figures are made on a three colour principle. The
fundamental colour here is the one which expresses the form of the
movement. But just as feeling pervades the tones of speech, so feeling
enters into the movement. We do not merely speak a sound, we colour it
by feeling. We can also do this in eurhythmy. In this way a strong
unconscious momentum plays into the eurhythmy. If the performer, the
eurhythmist, can bring this feeling into his movements in an artistic
way the onlookers will be affected by it as they watch the movements.
It should be borne in mind, moreover, that the veil which is worn
serves to enhance the expression of feeling, it accompanies and moves
to the feeling. This was brought out in the performance over there
(Tr: e.g. at Keble College). And you see here (Tr: i.e. in the
figures) the second colour — which comes mainly on the veils
— represents the feeling nuance in the movement. Thus you have a
first, fundamental colour expressing the movement itself, a second
colour over it mainly falling on the veil, which expresses the nuance
of feeling. But the eurhythmy performer must have the inner power to
impart the feeling to his movement: just as it makes a difference
whether I say to a person: Come to me (commandingly), or: Come to me
(in friendly request). This is the nuance of feeling, gradation of
feeling. What I say is different if I say: Come to me! (1) or: Come to
me (2). In the same way this second colour, here expressed as blue on
a foundation of green, which then continues over into the veil (Tr.:
where it can show as pure blue), — this represents the feeling
nuance in the language of eurhythmy.
And the third thing that is brought out is character, a strong element
of will. This can only be introduced into eurhythmy when the performer
is able to experience his own movements as he makes them and express
them strongly in himself. The way a performer holds his head as he
does eurhythmy makes a great difference to his appearance. Whether,
for instance, he keeps the muscles on the left of the head taut, and
those on the right slack — as is expressed here by means of the
third colour. (Showing figure) You see here the muscles on the left of
the head are somewhat tense, those on the right relaxed. You will
observe how the third colour always indicates this here. Here you see
the left side is contracted, and down over the mouth here; here (in
another figure) the forehead is contracted, the muscles of the
forehead are contracted. This, you see, sets the tone of the whole
inner character, — this that rays out from this slight
contracting: for this slight contraction sends rays throughout the
organism. Thus the art of eurhythmy is really composed of the
movement, expressed in the fundamental colour; of the feeling nuance,
expressed by the second colour, and of this element of will; —
indeed the element of the whole art is will, but will is here
emphasised in a special way.
Where the object is to exhibit the features of eurhythmy those parts
only of the human being are selected which are characteristic of
eurhythmy. If we had figures here with beautifully painted noses and
eyes and beautiful mouths, they might be charming paintings; but for
eurhythmy that is not the point; what you see painted, modelled or
carved here is solely what belongs to the art of eurhythmy in the
human being doing eurhythmy.
A human being performing eurhythmy has no need to make a special face.
That does not matter. Naturally, it goes without saying, a normal and
sound eurhythmist would not make a disagreeable face when making a
kindly movement, but this would be the same in speaking. No art of
facial expression independent of eurhythmic expression is aimed at:
For instance, a performer can make the A movement by turning the axels
of his eyes outwards. That is allowable, that is eurhythmic. But it
would not do if someone were to make special oeilades
(“Kinkerlitchen,” we call them) as is done in miming; these
oeilades, which are often in special demand in miming, would
here be a grimace. In eurhythmy everything must be eurhythmic.
Thus we have here a form of art which shows only that part of man
which is eurhythmy, all else is left out; and thus we get an artistic
impression. For each art can only express what it has to express
through its own particular medium. A statue cannot be made to speak;
thus you must bring out the expression of soul you want through the
shaping of the mouth and the whole face. Thus it would have been no
good in this case, either, to have painted human beings
naturalistically; what had to be painted was an expression of the
immediately eurhythmic.
Naturally, when I speak of veils this does not mean that one can
change the veil with every letter; but one comes to find, by trying
out different feeling nuances for a poem, and entering into the mood
of the poem, — that a whole poem has an A mood, or a B mood. Then
one can carry out the whole poem rightly in one veil. The same holds
good of the colour. Here for every letter I have put the veil form,
colour, etc. which go together. There must be a certain fundamental
key in a poem. This tone is given by the colour of the veil, and in
general by the whole colour combination; and this has to be retained
throughout the poem, — otherwise the ladies would have to be
continually changing veils, constantly throwing off the veils, putting
on other dresses, — and things would be even more complicated
than they are already and people would say they understood even less
But actually if one once has the fundamental key one can maintain it
throughout the whole poem, making the changes from one letter to
another, from one syllable to another from one mood to another by
means of the movements.
Now since my aim to-day is a pedagogic one, I have here set out these
figures in the order in which children learn the sounds. And the first
sound the children learn, when they are quite young, is the sound A.
And they continue in this order, approximately, — for naturally
where children are concerned many digressions occur, — but on the
whole the children get to know the vowels in this order: A, E, I, 0,
U, the normal order. And then, when the children have to practice the
visible speech of eurhythmy, when they come to do it in this same
order, it is for them like a resurrection of what they felt when they
first learned the sounds of speech as little children, — a
resurrection, a rebirth at another stage. In this language of
eurhythmy the child experiences what he had experienced earlier. It
affirms the power of the word in the child through the medium of the
whole being.
Then the children learn the consonants in this order: M.B.P.D.T.L.N;
— there should also be an NG here, as in sing, it has not yet
been made —; then F.H.G.S.R. R, that mysterious letter, which
properly has three forms in human speech, is the last one for children
to do perfectly. There is a lip R, a palatal R, and an R spoken right
at the back (Tr: a gutteral R).
Thus, what the child learns in speech in a part of his organism, in
his speaking or singing organism, can be carried over into the whole
being and developed into a visible speech.
If there should be a sufficient interest for this expressive art we
could make more figures; for instance Joy, Sorrow, Antipathy, Sympathy
and other things which are all part of eurhythmy, not the grammar
only, but rhetoric, too, comes into its own in eurhythmy. We could
make figures for all these. Then people would see how this
spiritual-psychic activity, which not only influences the functions of
man's physical body but develops both his spiritual-psychic and his
organic bodily nature, has a very definite value both in education and
as an art.
As to these eurhythmy figures, they also serve in the study of
eurhythmy as a help to the student's memory — for do not suppose
that eurhythmy is so easy that it can be learned in a few hours,
— eurhythmy must be thoroughly studied; these figures then are
useful to students for practising eurhythmy and for going more deeply
into their art. You can see there is a very great deal in the forms
themselves, though they are quite simply carved and painted.
I wished to-day to speak of the art of eurhythmy in so far as it forms
part of the educational principle of the Waldorf School.
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