T H E
C H I L D ' S C H A N G I N G C O N S C I O U S N E S S
Lecture Seven
DORNACH, APRIL 21, 1923
As you can probably imagine, it is not easy for one who
is free from a fanatical or sectarian attitude to accomplish
the kind of education, based on knowledge of the human being
that we have spoken of in the past few days. Many of you will
have noticed already that what is considered here to be both
right and good in education differs in many ways from what is
found in conventional forms of education, with their
regulations, curricula, and other fundamental policies. In this
respect, one finds oneself caught in a dilemma.
On
the one hand, we stand on the firm ground of a pedagogy that
derives from objective knowledge, and that prescribes specific
curricular and educational tasks for each year (as you will
have discovered already from what you have heard so far). To
ascertain what must be done in this education, we take our cue
from the children themselves; and not only for each year, but
also for each month, each week, and, in the end, each day. Here
I feel justified in expressing appreciation for how much the
teachers of the Waldorf schools have responded to the objective
demands of a truly grounded pedagogy, and also for their
insight into how this pedagogy is related to the needs of the
growing child.
[In August and September 1919, Rudolf Steiner
gave three courses to the teachers of the first Waldorf school,
which was founded by the industrialist Emil Molt for the
children of the workers in his cigarette factory, and which was
opened on September 7, 1919.] They have come to realize that
not a single detail of this pedagogy is arbitrary, that
everything in it is a direct response to what can be read in
the child's own nature. This represents one side of what has
led to the dilemma. The other side consists of demands made by
life itself. Those who are free of any fanaticism despite their
own ideals (or whatever else you choose to call these things),
and who feel the need for firm roots in life's realities,
experience this other aspect with particular acuity.
Sectarianism to any degree or fanatical zeal must never be
allowed to creep into our educational endeavors, only to find
at the end of the road that our students do not fit into life
as it is; for life in the world does not notice one's
educational ideals. Life is governed by what arises from the
prevailing conditions themselves, which are expressed as
regulations concerning education, as school curricula, and as
other related matters, which correspond to current ways of
thinking. And so there is always a danger that we will educate
children in a way that, though correct in itself, could
alienate them from life in the world — whether one
considers this right or wrong. It must always be remembered
that one must not steer fanatically toward one's chosen
educational aims without considering whether or not one might
be alienating one's students from surrounding life.
Opponents of anthroposophy have often attributed fanaticism and
sectarianism to this movement, but this is not the case, as you
will see. On the contrary, it is precisely these two attributes
that are alien to its nature. They may appear within some
individual members, but anthroposophy itself always strives to
enter fully into the realities of life. And just because of
this, one is only too aware of the difficulties encountered in
dealing with the practical sides of life. From the very
beginning of the Waldorf school something had to be done. It is
difficult to give it a proper name, but something bad or
negative had to be agreed upon — that is, a kind of
compromise — simply because this school is not grounded
in fanaticism but in objective reality. At the very beginning,
a memorandum addressed to the local school authorities had to
be worked out. In it I made the following points: During the
first three years the students in our school are to be
educated, stage by stage and wherever possible, according to
what is considered relevant to their inner needs. At the same
time, the standards generally achieved in other schools are to
be respected to the extent that, after completion of the first
three years, the students of the Waldorf school should be able
to fulfill the necessary requirements for entering
corresponding classes in other schools, if desired. Such an
offer, for our teachers, amounted to an “ingratiating
compromise” — forgive this term, I cannot express
it otherwise. A realistic mind has to take such a course, for
discretion is essential in everything one does. A fanatic would
have responded differently. Naturally, many difficulties have
to be ironed out when such a policy is chosen, and many of our
teachers would find it preferable to steer a straight course
toward our aims and ideals. Lengthy and minutely detailed
discussions occurred before a passage was found through these
two conflicting approaches.
Another point in my memorandum was that, after completion of
their twelfth year — that is, when our pupils are in the
sixth grade, counting upward from the first grade — they
should again be able to fulfill the requirements for entry into
the corresponding class in another school. My choice for this
particular age is based on the fact that it marks the end of a
period of development, as already described during a previous
meeting. And finally, it was presented in the memorandum that,
in their fourteenth year, our students should have reached
again the necessary standards of learning that would enable
them, if desired, to change schools.
In
retrospect, one could say that during the first three grades
this plan has worked fairly well. At that level it has been
tolerably successful. With a great deal of effort and trouble,
it is still workable until the students' twelfth year. However,
the real difficulties begin during the following years, for out
of a dark subconsciousness, some knowledge of what is happening
in a young child lingered from the distant past into our
present time, however dim this insight may have become today.
And because of this it is now customary to send children to
school when they are losing their first teeth. Today people
hardly realize that these two things are connected.
Nevertheless, entering school at about six is still the result
of ancient wisdom, passed on through the ages, which today has
become only vague and instinctive. Since these things are no
longer recognized, however, there is a tendency toward
arbitrarily establishing the age for entering school at the
completion of the sixth year, which is always a little
premature, and therefore not in keeping with the child's
nature. There is nothing one can do about it, because if
parents do not send their children to school when they have
completed their sixth year, the police or bailiff, or whatever
else such people are called, will come and take the children to
school.
However, as previously mentioned, it is relatively easy to work
with this compromise during the first three years. Admittedly,
if one or another student has to leave the Waldorf school for
another school during this time because of circumstance, one is
usually told that such students are behind in reading and
writing. They may be considered far ahead in artistic subjects,
such as in drawing or eurythmy, but these, so we are told, are
not generally considered to be very important.
Such official judgments, however, can even be seen as an
affirmation of Waldorf methods! They prompt me to tell you
something interesting about the young Goethe.
[Johann Wolfgang
von Goethe (1749–1832) German poet, scientist, and
philosopher.] If you look at his spelling, even when he was
much older than seven or eight, you will find it full of
atrocious mistakes. It is easy to deduce from this that far
more is expected of an eight-year-old child today (if
“more” is the right word) than what Goethe managed
to achieve at seventeen (only with regard to spelling, of
course). This certainly demonstrates that there is also another
way of judging the situation, for Goethe owed much to the fact
that, even at the age of seventeen, he was still likely to make
spelling errors because, not having been too fettered to rigid
rules, his inner being could remain flexible with regard to the
unfolding of certain soul forces. If one knows how these things
interact with each other (and a more sensitive kind of
psychology is needed for this than is frequently encountered
today) one will be no more influenced by adverse criticism than
by the superficial criteria of such a historical fact, which is
interesting, at least.
Another interesting example can be found in so-called
Mendelisms, which emerged around the beginning of the
twentieth century (perhaps even around the end of the
nineteenth century), and which was considered by natural
scientists to be the best theory for explaining the phenomena
of heredity. It received its name from a certain Gregor Mendel,
[Gregor Johann Mendel (1822–1884) Austrian botanist.
He became a monk in the order of Saint Augustine in 1843, and taught
in a technical school from 1854 until 1868, when he became abbot. He
is known for his experiments in breeding peas in the monastery
garden, and from the statistics gathered, he established
certain laws concerning heredity, which became the foundation
of the science of genetics.] a botanist who lived during the
middle of the nineteenth century and was also a teacher at a
Realschule in Moravia.
[Realschule (or
Realgymnasium) is the high school equivalent in Germany
for preparation in the sciences, trades, or technical studies,
whereas Gymnasium usually refers to a high school for
classical preparation toward university study.] Gregor Mendel
made careful experiments with plants in order to investigate
their inherited properties. His writings remained obscure for a
long time, only to surface again toward the turn of the
century, to be hailed as the most convincing theory regarding
heredity.
Now
it is interesting to consider the biography of Gregor Mendel.
As our Austrian friends here know, monastic clerics had to pass
an examination before they could become eligible for a teaching
post at a high school. Mendel failed his exam brilliantly,
which meant that he was considered incapable of becoming a high
school teacher. But an Austrian regulation existed
permitting failed candidates to retake their exams after a
certain period of time. Gregor Mendel did so and again failed
spectacularly. I believe that even today in Austria such a
person could never find a high school teaching position.
In those days, however, regulations were a little less
stringent. Because of a shortage of teachers at the time, even
failed candidates were sometimes hired as teachers, and so
Gregor Mendel did finally become a high school teacher,
even though he had twice failed his exam. Since this had been
made possible only through the grace of the headmaster,
however, he was considered to be a second-rate staff member by
his colleagues and, according to the rules governing high
school teachers, he was not entitled to add “Ph.D.”
to his name. Successful exam candidates usually write these
abbreviated degrees after their names, for example,
“Joseph Miller, Ph.D.” In the case of Gregor Mendel
these letters were missing, the omission of which indicated his
inferior position. Well, several decades passed, but after his
death this same individual was hailed as one of the greatest
naturalists!
Real life presents some strange examples. And, although it is
impossible to plan the education of young people to suit the
practical demands of later life (since, if this were the only
aim, some very strange requests would certainly be made), even
though one cannot adapt the curricula to what life itself will
bring to maturity later on, one must nevertheless be ready to
listen with inner clarity and a sense of psychology to what the
many occurrences in life are trying to tell us, with regard to
both primary and secondary education. So it could certainly be
said that it is not really a tragedy when a Waldorf student has
to leave during the third grade, a student who has not yet
reached the same level of achievement in certain elementary
skills as students in another school, who were drilled using
bad methods, the harmful effects of which will surface only
later in life. Many life stories could be told to substantiate
this claim. Strange things sometimes show up when one looks at
obituaries. R¶ntgen, for example, was also
excluded from teaching at a high school, and only
through the special kindness of an influential person was he
allowed to gain a teaching post at all.
[Wilhelm Konrad von
Röntgen (1845–1923) German physicist, discoverer of
the “Röntgen” rays or X-rays.] As
already said, one cannot base one's educational ideas on such
things, but they should be noticed, and one must try to
comprehend their significance through a more discriminating
psychology.
Returning to our point, after the twelfth year it becomes
increasingly difficult to find a workable compromise in our way
of teaching. Until the twelfth year it is just possible to do
so, as long as one really knows what is going on inside the
students. But afterward, the situation begins to get more and
more difficult, because from that time on, the curricula and
the required standards for achievement no longer have any
relationship to the nature of the growing human being; they are
chosen entirely arbitrarily. The subject matter to be covered
in any one year is chosen entirely autocratically, and one
simply can no longer bridge the conflicting demands, on the one
hand, from the powers that be, and, on the other hand, those
that arise directly from the evolving human being. Remember
what I said yesterday: by the time puberty is passed, the
adolescent should have been helped toward developing sufficient
maturity and inner strength to enter the realm of human
freedom. I referred to the two fundamental virtues:
gratitude, for which the ground has to be prepared
before the change of teeth, and the ability to love, for
which the ground needs to be prepared between the change of
teeth and puberty; this was the theme developed yesterday.
Furthermore, we have seen that, with regard to the ethical
life, the soul life of the child must also experience feelings
of sympathy and antipathy toward what is good and evil. If one
approaches a student at this age with a “thou
shalt” attitude, proper development will be hindered in
the years to come. On the other hand, when one instead moves
the pre-adolescent child, through natural authority, to love
the good and hate the evil, then during the time of sexual
maturity, from the inner being of the adolescent, the third
fundamental virtue develops, which is the sense of duty.
It is impossible to drill it into young people. It can only
unfold as a part of natural development, based only on
gratitude — in the sense described yesterday — and
on the ability to love. If these two virtues have been
developed properly, with sexual maturity the sense of duty will
emerge, the experience of which is an essential part of
life
What belongs to the human soul and spirit realm has to develop
according to its own laws and conditions, just as what belongs
to the physical realm must obey physical laws. Just as an arm
or a hand must be allowed to grow freely, according to the
inner forces of growth, just as these must not be artificially
controlled by, for example, being fixed into a rigid iron frame
— although in certain places on Earth there is a custom
of restricting the free growth of feet similar to the way we
impede the free unfolding here of the child's soul life —
so must adolescents feel this new sense of duty arising freely
from within. The young person will then integrate properly into
society, and Goethe's dictum will find its noblest fulfillment:
“Duty is a love for what one demands of
oneself.” Here again you see how love plays into
everything, and how the sense of duty must be developed so that
one eventually comes to love it. In this way one integrates
properly as a human being into society. And then, from the
previous experience of right authority, the ability to support
oneself by one's own strength will evolve.
What is finally revealed as genuine piety, when seen with
spiritual eyes, is the transformed body-related, natural
religiousness during the time before the change of teeth, which
I described to you in fair detail. These are all things that
must be rooted deeply in a true pedagogy, and applied
practically. Soon enough, one will realize how necessary it is
to allow the curriculum — from the twelfth year until
puberty, and, most of all, after puberty — to be more and
more inclined toward practical activities. In the Waldorf
school, the ground for this task is prepared early. In our
school, boys and girls sit side by side. Although interesting
psychological facts have emerged from this practice alone
— and each class has its own psychology, of which we will
speak more tomorrow — one can definitely say: if one lets
boys and girls practice their handcrafts side by side as a
matter of course, it is an excellent preparation for their
adult lives. Today there are only a few men who recognize how
much the ability to knit can help toward healthy thinking and
healthy logic. Only a few men can judge what it means for one's
life to be able to knit. In our Waldorf school, boys do their
knitting alongside the girls, and they also mend socks.
Through this practice, the differentiation between the types of
work performed by the two sexes will find its natural course
later on, should this become necessary. At the same time, a
form of education is being implemented that considers fully the
practical aspects of the students' future lives.
People are always extremely surprised when they hear me say
(and the following assertion not only expresses my personal
conviction, but is based on a psychological fact) that I cannot
consider anyone to be a good professor in the full meaning of
the word unless that person can also mend a shoe in an
emergency; for how could it be possible for anyone to know
something of real substance about being and becoming in the
world, unless that person can also repair a shoe or a boot if
the situation demands it? This is, of course, a rather sweeping
statement, but there are men who cannot even sew on a button
properly, and this is a lamentable failing. Knowledge of
philosophy carries little weight, unless one can also lend a
hand to whatever needs doing. This is simply part of life. In
my opinion, one can only be a good philosopher if one could
have just as well become a shoemaker, should this have been
one's destiny. And, as the history of philosophy shows, it
sometimes happens that cobblers become philosophers.
[For
example, Jakob Böhme (1575–1624), the shoemaker from
Görlitz, whose influence has been far-reaching in
Western philosophical and spiritual streams.]
Knowledge of the human being calls on us to make adequate
provision in our curricula and schedules for preparing pupils
for the practical side of life. Reading in the book of human
nature, we are simply led to introduce the children — or
rather, the young men and women, as we should call them now
— to the art of setting up a loom and weaving. From there
it follows quite naturally that they should also learn to spin,
and that they gain a working idea of how paper is made, for
example.
They should be taught not only mechanics and chemistry, but
also how to understand at least simple examples of mechanical
and chemical processes used in technology. They should
reproduce these on a small scale with their own hands so they
will know how various articles are manufactured. This change of
direction toward the more practical side of life must certainly
be made possible. It has to be worked toward with honest and
serious intent if one wants to build the proper curriculum,
especially in the upper classes.
But
this can place one in terrible difficulties. It is just
possible to equip children under nine with sufficient learning
skills for a transfer into the fourth grade of another school,
without neglecting what needs to be done with them for sound
pedagogical reasons. This is also still possible in the case of
twelveyear-olds who are to enter the seventh grade. It is
already becoming very difficult indeed to bring pupils to the
required standards of learning for their transfer to a high
school. Tremendous difficulties have to be overcome if pupils
from our higher grades have to change to a high school.
In
such cases one would do well to recall ancient Greece, where a
wise Greek had to put up with being told by an Egyptian,
“You Greeks are like children — you know nothing
about all the changes the Earth has gone through.” A wise
Greek had to listen to the judgment of a wise Egyptian. But
nevertheless, the Greeks had not become so infantile as to
demand of a growing youth, who was to be educated in one or
another particular subject, that knowledge of the Egyptian
language should first be acquired. They were very satisfied
that the young person use the native Greek language.
Unfortunately, we do not act today as the Greeks did, for we
make our young people learn Greek. I do not want to speak
against it; to learn Greek is something beautiful. But it is
inconsistent with fulfilling the needs of a particular school
age. It becomes a real problem when one is told to allocate so
many lessons to this subject on the schedule at a time when
such a claim clashes with the need for lessons in which
weaving, spinning, and a rough knowledge of how paper is made
should be practiced. Such is the situation when one is called
on to finalize the schedule! And since we very well know that
we shall never receive permission to build our own university
anywhere, it is absolutely essential for us to enable those of
our pupils who wish to continue their education at a
university, technical college, or other similar institution, to
pass the necessary graduation exam.
All
this places us in an almost impossible situation, with almost
insurmountable difficulties. When one tries to cultivate the
practical side in education, prompted by insight into the inner
needs of adolescent pupils, one has to face the bitter
complaints of a Greek teacher who declares that the exam
syllabus could never be covered with the amount of time
allocated to the subject, and that, consequently, the
candidates are doomed to fail their exams.
Such are the problems we have to tackle. They certainly show it
is impossible for us to insist on pushing our ideals with any
fanatical fervor. What will eventually have to happen no longer
depends solely on the consensus of a circle of teachers about
the rights and wrongs of education. Today it has become
necessary for much wider circles within society to recognize
the ideals of a truly human education, so that external
conditions will render it possible for education to function
without alienating pupils from life. This is obviously the case
if, after having gone through a grammar school kind of
education in one's own school, pupils were to fail their
graduation exams, which they have to take somewhere else.
[Waldorf school pupils had to take the required graduation
exams (Abitur) at a state school.]
Speaking of failing an exam — and here I am speaking to
specialists in education — I believe that it would be
possible to make even a professor of botany, however clever,
fail in botany — if that were the only intention! I
really believe such a thing is possible, because anyone can
fail an exam. In this chapter of life also, some very strange
facts have shown up. There was, for example, Robert Hamerling,
an Austrian poet, whose use of the German language was later
acclaimed as the highest level any Austrian writer could
possibly attain.
[Robert Hamerling (1830–1889) Austrian poet
and philosopher.] The results of his exam certificate, which
qualified him for a teaching position at an Austrian
Gymnasium, make interesting reading: Greek —
excellent; Latin — excellent; German language and essay
writing — hardly capable of teaching this subject in the
lower classes of a middle school. You actually find this
written in Hamerling's teaching certificate! So you see, this
matter of failing or passing an exam is a very tricky
business.
The
difficulties that beset us, therefore, make us realize that
society at large must provide better conditions before more can
be accomplished than what is possible by making the kind of
compromise I have spoken of. If I were to be asked, abstractly,
whether a Waldorf school could be opened anywhere in the world,
I could only answer, again entirely in the abstract,
“Yes, wherever one would be allowed to open.” On
the other hand, even this would not be the determining factor
because, as already said, in the eyes of many people these are
only two aspects of one and the same thing. There are some who
struggle through to become famous poets despite bad exam
results in their main subject. But not everyone can do that.
For many, a failed graduation exam means being cast out of the
stream of life. And so it must be acknowledged that the higher
the grade level in our school, the less one can work toward all
of one's educational ideals. It is something not to be
forgotten. It shows how one has to come to terms with actual
life situations.
The
following question must always be present for an education
based on an understanding of the human being: Will young
people, as they enter life, find the proper human connection in
society, which is a fundamental human need? After all, those
responsible for the demands of graduation exams are also
members of society, even if the style and content of their
exams are based on error. Therefore, if one wants to integrate
Waldorf pedagogy into present social conditions, one has to put
up with having to do certain things that, in themselves, would
not be considered right or beneficial. Anyone who inspects our
top classes may well be under the impression that what is found
there does not fully correspond to the avowed ideals of Waldorf
pedagogy. But I can guarantee you that, if we were to carry out
those ideals regardless of the general situation — and
especially, if we attempted to make the transition to the
practical side of life — all of our candidates for the
graduation exam would fail! This is how diametrically opposed
matters are today. But they have to be dealt with, and this can
be done in great variety of ways. At the same time, awareness
has to emerge regarding the degree of change necessary, not
just in the field of education, but in all of life, before a
truly human form of education can be established.
Despite all obstacles, the practical activities are being
accomplished in the Waldorf school, at least to a certain
extent — even though it does happen, now and then, that
they have to be curtailed in some cases because the Greek or
Latin teacher claims some of these lessons. That is something
that cannot be avoided.
From what I've said, you can see that puberty is the proper
time to make the transition, leading the adolescent into the
realities of ordinary life. And the elements that will have to
play more and more into school life, in a higher sense, are
those that will make the human individual, as a being of body,
soul, and spirit, a helpful and useful member of society. In
this regard, our current time lacks the necessary psychological
insight; for the finer interrelationships in the human
spiritual, soul, and physical spheres are, in general, not even
dreamed of. These things can be felt intuitively only by people
who make it their particular task to come to understand the
human psyche.
From personal self-knowledge I can tell you in all modesty that
I could not have accomplished in spiritual science certain
things that proved possible, if I had not learned bookbinding
at a particular time in my life — which may seem somewhat
useless to many people. And this was not in any way connected
with Waldorf pedagogy, but simply a part of my destiny. This
particularly human activity has particular consequences to most
intimate spiritual and soul matters, especially if it is
practiced at the right time of life. The same holds true for
other practical activities as well. I would consider it a sin
against human nature if we did not include bookbinding and
box-making in our Waldorf school craft lessons, if it were not
introduced into the curriculum at a particular age determined
by insight into the students' development. These things are all
part of becoming a full human being. The important thing in
this case is not that a pupil makes a particular cardboard box
or binds a book, but that the students have gone through the
necessary discipline to make such items, and that they have
experienced the inherent feelings and thought processes that go
with them.
The
natural differentiation between the boys and girls will become
self-evident. Yet here one also needs to have an eye for what
is happening, an eye of the soul. For example, the following
situation has come up, the psychology of which has not yet been
fully investigated, because I have not been able to spend
enough time at the Waldorf school. We will investigate it
thoroughly another time. But what happened was that, during
lessons in spinning, the girls took to the actual spinning. The
boys also wanted to be involved, and somehow they found their
task in fetching and carrying for the girls. The boys wanted to
be chivalrous. They brought the various materials that the
girls then used for spinning. The boys seemed to prefer doing
the preparatory work. This is what happened and we still need
to digest it from the psychological perspective.
But
this possibility of “switching our craft lessons
around” — if I may put it that way — allows
us to change to bookbinding now, and then to box-making. All
are part of the practical activities that play a dominant role
in Waldorf pedagogy, and they show how an eye for the practical
side of life is a natural byproduct for anyone who has made
spiritual striving and spiritual research the main objective in
life. There are educational methods in the world, the clever
ideas of downright impractical theoreticians, who believe they
have eaten practical life experience by the spoonful, methods
that are nevertheless completely removed from reality. If one
begins with theories of education, one will end up with the
least practical results. Theories in themselves yield nothing
useful, and too often breed only biases. A realistic pedagogy,
on the other hand, is the offspring of true knowledge of the
human being. And the part played by arts and crafts at a
certain time of life is nothing but such knowledge applied to a
particular situation. In itself this knowledge already presents
a form of pedagogy that will turn into the right kind of
practical teaching through the living way in which the actual
lessons are given. It becomes transformed into the teacher's
right attitude, and this is what really matters. The nature and
character of the entire school has to be in tune with it.
And
so, in the educational system cultivated in the Waldorf school,
the center of gravity iis within the staff of teachers and
their regular meetings, because the whole school is intended as
one living and spirit-permeated organism. The first grade
teacher is therefore expected to follow with real interest not
only what the physics teacher is teaching to the seventh grade,
but also the physics teacher's experiences of the various
students in that class. This all flows together in the staff
meetings, where practical advice and counseling, based on
actual teaching experience, are freely given and received.
Through the teaching staff a real attempt is made to create a
kind of soul for the entire school organism. And so the first
grade teacher will know that the sixth grade teacher has a
child who is retarded in one way or another, or another who may
be especially gifted. Such common interest and shared knowledge
have a fructifying influence. The entire teaching body, being
thus united, will experience the whole school as a unity. Then
a common enthusiasm will pervade the school, but also a
willingness to share in all its sorrows and worries. Then the
entire teaching staff will carry whatever has to be carried,
especially with regard to moral and religious issues, but also
in matters of a more cognitive nature.
In
this way, the different colleagues also learn how one
particular subject, taught by one of the teachers, affects a
completely different subject taught by another teacher. Just
as, in the case of the human organism, it is not a matter of
indifference whether the stomach is properly attuned to the
head, so in a school it is not insignificant whether a lesson
from nine to ten in the morning, given to the third grade, is
properly related to the lesson from eleven to twelve in the
eighth grade. This is in rather radical and extreme terms, of
course. Things do not happen quite like that, but they are
presented this way because they correspond essentially to
reality. And if thinking is in touch with reality, judgments
about matters pertaining to the sense-perceptible world will
differ greatly from those based on abstract theories.
To
illustrate this point I would like to mention certain lay
healers who give medical treatment in places where this is not
illegal. They are people who have acquired a certain measure of
lay knowledge in medicine. Now one of these healers may find,
for example, that a patient's heart is not functioning
normally. This may be a correct diagnosis, but in this case it
does not imply that the cure would be to bring the heart back
to normality. And according to such a lay healer, the patient
may have adapted the entire organism to the slightly abnormal
function of the heart. This means that if now one were to get
the heart to work normally again, such a “cured”
heart, just because of its return to normality, might upset the
entire organism, thus causing a deterioration of the patient's
general condition. Consequently the therapy could actually
consist of leaving the heart as it is, with the recommendation
that, should the symptoms of the slight heart defect return, a
different course of treatment should be given from what would
normally be done through the use of medications under similar
circumstances.
I
said yesterday that educating and healing are related
activities. And so something similar is also called for in the
field of education. That is, a kind of conceptual and sensitive
feeling approach, both comprehensive and in touch with reality,
since it would have to apply to other realms of cognition
directly related to practical life.
If
we look at what contemporary anatomy and physiology tell us
about the human being — not to mention psychology, which
is a hodgepodge of abstractions anyway — we find a
certain type of knowledge from which a picture of the human
being is manufactured. If this picture is used as a means of
selfknowledge, it creates the impression that we are merely a
skeleton. (Within certain limits, knowledge of the human being
is also self-knowledge — not the introspective kind, but
rather a recognition of essentially human qualities found in
each individual.) If, when looking at ourselves, we had to
disregard everything within and around our skeleton, we would
naturally conclude that we were only skeletons. This is how the
whole human being — body, soul, and spirit — would
appear to us if we used only what contemporary anatomy and
physiology offers as a picture of the human being. Psychology
needs to truly permeate the human psyche with spirit. If this
is done, we can follow the spiritual element right into the
physical realities of the body, because spirit works in every
part of the human body.
I
have already said that the tragedy of materialism is its
inability to understand the true nature of matter. Knowledge of
spirit leads to true understanding of matter. Materialism may
speak of matter, but it does not penetrate to the inner
structures of the forces that work through matter. Similarly,
pedagogy that observes only external phenomena does not
penetrate to the regions of the human being that reveal what
should be done about practical life. This causes a situation
that, to the spiritual investigator, is very natural, but would
appear paradoxical for many people. They wonder why a pedagogy
grown from anthroposophy always emphasizes the
necessity of training children at specific ages in certain
practical activities — that is, the necessity of training
them in the correct handling of material processes. Far from
leading students into a foggy mysticism, the principles and
methods of the education based on anthroposophical research
will not estrange them from life. On the contrary, it will
induce spirit and soul substance to penetrate their physical
bodies, thus making them useful for this earthly life, and at
the same time, provide them with the proper conditions to
develop inner certainty. This is why we feel it necessary to
expand the practical type of work, and, of course, difficulties
therefore increase with the beginning of every new school year
when we have to add a new class to the existing ones (we began
with eight grades, adding the ninth, tenth, and eleventh, and
we are about to open our first twelfth grade).
This has led to the situation where, while other problems
facing the anthroposophical cause were being dealt with very
recently, a memorandum was handed in by the pupils of the
current highest grade level in the Waldorf school. Those among
them who were expecting to have to take their graduation exam
had worked out a remarkable document, the deeper aspects of
which will be appreciated only when the whole matter is seen in
the proper light. They had sent more or less the following
memorandum to the Anthroposophical Society:
Since we are being educated and taught in the sense of the true
human being
[they had somehow gleaned this] and, consequently,
since we cannot enter existing types of colleges, we wish to
make the following proposal to the Anthroposophical Society:
That a new anthroposophical college is to be founded where we
can continue our education.
No
negative judgment regarding colleges in general is implied in
this wording, although such judgments are frequently
encountered in contemporary society.
All
of this presents us with the greatest difficulties. But since
you have made the effort to come here to find out what Waldorf
pedagogy is all about — something we very well know how
to appreciate — these problems should also be aired. Any
sincere interest in what is willed in this education deserves a
clear indication of all the difficulties involved.
Thus far, Waldorf pedagogy is being practiced only by the
teachers of the one existing Waldorf school, and there we find
our difficulties increase the higher we go with the school. I
can only assume that the problems would be even greater in a
college operated anthroposophically. But since such a college
is only a very abstract ideal, I can only speak about it
hypothetically. It has always been my way to deal directly with
the tasks set by life, and this is why I can talk about this
education only up to the twelfth grade, which is opening soon.
Things that belong to a misty future must not take up too much
time for people standing amid life, since it would only detract
from the actual tasks at hand.
One
can say only that problems would increase substantially, and
that obviously there would be two kinds of difficulties. First,
if we were to open a college, our exam results would not be
recognized as proper qualifications, which means that
successful candidates could not take up professional positions
in life. They could not become medical doctors, lawyers, and so
on; professions that in their present customary forms are still
essential today. This presents one side of the problem. The
other side would conjure up really frightening prospects, if
certain hard facts did not offer relief from such anxieties;
for, on the strength of the praiseworthy efforts made by our
young friends, an association has actually been founded with
the express aim of working toward the creation of such a
college, based on the principles of Waldorf pedagogy. The only
reason there is no need to feel thoroughly alarmed about the
potential consequences of such an endeavor is that the funds
needed by this association will certainly not reach such giddy
heights that anyone would be tempted to seriously consider
going ahead with the project. The underlying striving toward
this aim is thoroughly laudable, but for the time being it
remains beyond the realm of practicality. The real worry would
come only if, for example, an American millionaire were to
suddenly offer the many millions needed to build, equip, and
staff such a college. The best one could do in such a situation
would be to promote, en masse, the entire teaching staff of the
Waldorf school to become the teachers of the new college. But
then there would no longer be a Waldorf school!
I
am saying all this because I believe actual facts are far more
important than any kind of abstract argument. While
acknowledging that the idea of basing education, including
college education, on true knowledge of the human being
represents a far-reaching ideal, we must not overlook the fact
that the circle of those who stand firmly behind our ideals is
extremely small. This is the very reason one feels so happy
about every move toward an expansion of this work, which may
gain further momentum through your welcome visit to this
course. At the same time, one must never lose sight of all that
must happen so that the Waldorf ideal can rest upon truly firm
and sound foundations. This needs to be mentioned within the
context of this course, for it follows from the constitution of
the Waldorf school.
Tomorrow, in the concluding lecture, I would like to tell you
more about this constitution of the Waldorf school —
about how it is run, about what the relationship should be
between teachers and students, as well as the
interrelationships of pupils among themselves, and teachers
among themselves. Furthermore, I would like to speak about
what, in our way of thinking, are the proper methods of dealing
with exams and school reports, so that they reflect knowledge
of the human being.
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