WE
must not close our minds to
the fact that the relations of man to his surroundings are far
more complicated than the part of which we are always
conscious. I have attempted to make clear to you from the most
various angles the nature and significance of the unconscious
and subconscious soul-processes. And it is especially important
in the sphere of education, and of educational method, that man
should be educated in a way suited not only to his
consciousness, but also to his subconsciousness, to the
subconscious and unconscious forces of his soul. In this
sense, if we are to be true educators and teachers, we must
enter into the subtleties of human nature.
We
have learnt that there are three stages of human development
traceable between the losing of the first teeth and puberty
(seven to nine, nine to twelve, twelve to fourteen). We must
realize that particularly in the last of these stages of life
the subconscious plays a great part along with consciousness
— a part which is significant for the whole future life
of the individual.
I
should like to make the position plain to you by
approaching it from another angle.
Just think how many people to-day travel in electric trains
without the ghost of a notion of the real nature of
locomotion by electric rail. Just think how many people
to-day see even a steam-engine, a railway-engine, steam past
them, without any suspicion of the physical and mechanical
processes involved in the motion of the steam-engine. But
think further, in what relation, in view of such ignorance, we
stand as human beings to the surroundings of which we even make
a convenience. We live in a world produced by human beings,
moulded by human thought, of which we make use, and which we do
not understand in the least. This lack of comprehension for
human creation, or for the results of human thought, is of
great significance for the entire complexion of the human soul
and spirit. In fact, people must benumb themselves to escape
the realization of influences from this source.
It
must always remain a matter of great satisfaction to see people
from the so-called “better classes” enter a factory
and feel thoroughly ill at ease. This is because they
experience, like a shaft from their subconsciousness, the
realization that they make use of all that is produced in the
factory, and yet, as individuals, have not the slightest
intimacy with the processes taking place there. They know
nothing about it. When you notice the discomfiture of an
inveterate cigarette smoker going into the Waldorf-Astoria
tobacco factory without any idea of the process of manufacture
to provide him with a cigarette, you can at least notice the
satisfaction that human nature shows of being itself worried
through its ignorance. And there is at least some pleasure in
seeing people who are completely ignorant of the workings of an
electric railway, get in and out of it with a slight feeling of
discomfort. For this feeling of discomfort is at least the
first glimmering of an improvement in attitude. The worst thing
is participation in a world made by human heads and hands
without bothering in the least about that world.
We
can only fight against this attitude if we begin our fight as
early as the last stage of the elementary school course, if we
simply do not let the child of fifteen or sixteen leave school
without at least a few elementary notions of the most important
functions of the outside world. The child must leave with a
craving to know, an insatiable curiosity about everything that
goes on around him, and then convert this curiosity and
craving for knowledge into further knowledge. We ought,
therefore, to use the separate subjects of study towards the
end of the school course as a social education of the
individual in the most comprehensive sense, just as we employ
geography on the lines already described as in a resume. That
is, we should not neglect to introduce the child, on a basis of
such physical, natural-history concepts as we can command, to
the workings of at least the factory systems in his
neighbourhood. The child should have acquired some general idea
at fifteen and sixteen of the way a soap-factory or a
spinning-mill is run. The problem will be, of course, to study
things as economically as possible. It is always
possible, if a comprehensive process is being studied, to
arrange some kind of abbreviated epitome and very primitive
demonstration of complicated processes. I think that Herr Molt
[General Managing Director of the Waldorf-Astoria tobacco
factory and founder of the Waldorf School as a school for the
children of his employees.]
will agree with me when I say that
one could teach the child, in an economical fashion, the entire
factory process for preparing cigarettes, from beginning to
end, in a few short sentences. Such shortened instructions of
certain branches of industry are of the very greatest benefit
to children of twelve to fourteen, fifteen, and sixteen. If
people at this age were to keep a kind of notebook containing:
manufacture of soap, spinning, weaving, etc., it would be an
excellent thing. There would be no immediate need to teach him
mechanical or chemical technology, but if the child could keep
such a notebook he would derive a great deal of benefit from
it. Even if he lost the notebook the residue would be there.
The individual, that is, would not only retain the knowledge of
these things, but, most important of all, he would feel, in
going about life and in his own vocation, that he once knew
these things, that he once went into them. This influences him,
as a matter of fact, and gives him the assurance with which he
acts and the self-possession with which the individual effects
a footing for himself in life. It is very important for the
individual's will-power and his capacity to make decisions. In
no profession will you get people with real initiative
unless their relation to the world is instinct with the
consciousness that, even about things which do not fall within
their province, they once acquired a certain knowledge, however
elementary. Whether they have remembered it or not, they
have the residue, the traces. Granted, we learn a good deal in
the average school. But there, in the object lesson, which so
often degenerates into platitudes, the child learns many such
things, but it probably happens that he does not retain the
feeling that he went into a thing with pleasure and felt
himself lucky. On the contrary, he feels: I have forgotten what
I learnt about that, and a good thing, too. We should never be
responsible for producing this feeling in a person. When,
later, we go into business and other walks of life, innumerable
recollections will flicker up from our subconsciousness if we
have been taught in our childhood with the care which I have
described. Life to-day is exclusively specialized. This
specialization is really fearful, and the excess of it in
practical life is chiefly due to the fact that we begin to
specialize already at school.
The
gist of these remarks might well be summarized as follows: All
that the child learns during his school years should ultimately
and in some way be so applied that he can everywhere trace its
connections with practical human life. Very many features,
indeed, which are unsocial to-day could be transformed into
social ones if we, at least, could have glimpsed an insight
into things not immediately connected with our
occupation.
For
example, certain things should really be respected by the
outside world which are, in fact, respected in spheres still
dominated by older, better, if perhaps rather atavistic
principles of teaching. In this connection I should like to
refer to a very remarkable phenomenon. When we, now elderly
folk, went through the senior school in Austria, we had
relatively good geometry and arithmetic textbooks. They have
disappeared now. A few weeks ago I ransacked all the imaginable
bookshops in Vienna to get older geometry books, because I
wanted to see again, with my physical eyes, what gave us young
fellows such joy in Vienna-Neustadt, for instance: when we got
into the first or lowest class of the senior school the lads of
the second class always used to come into the corridor the
first day and yell: “Fialkowski, Fialkowski! You'll have
to pay up to-morrow!” That is, as pupils of the first
class we took over the Fialkowski geometry books from the boys
of the second class and brought the money for them the next
day. I have hunted up one of these Fialkowskis again, to my
great joy, because it proves that geometry books written in
this older tradition are really much better than the later
ones. For the modern books which have replaced them are really
quite horrible. The arithmetic and geometry books are very bad.
But on thinking back only a little way and taking the
generations before us as our models, there were better
textbooks then. They nearly all came from the school of
the Austrian Benedictines. The mathematics and geometry books
had been written by the Benedictines and were very good ones,
because the Benedictines are a Catholic order who take a great
deal of care that their members receive a good education in
geometry and mathematics. The Benedictine feeling in general is
that it is really ludicrous for anyone to mount a pulpit and
address the people unless he is familiar with geometry and
mathematics.
This ideal of unity, inspiring the human soul, must
pervade our teaching. In every vocation something of the
whole world must be alive. In every vocation there must exist
something of its very opposite, things which we believe are
almost inapplicable to that vocation. People must be interested
in more or less the opposite extreme of their own work. But
they will only feel the desire to do this if they are taught as
I have described.
It
was, of course, just at the time in which materialism reached
its final expansion, in the last third of the nineteenth
century, and penetrated so deeply into our educational method,
that specialization came to be considered very important.
Do not imagine that the effect is to make the child idealistic
if you avoid showing him in his last years at the school the
relation of subjects of school study to practical life. Do not
imagine that the child will be more idealistic later in life
if, at this time, you let him write essays on all kinds of
sentimentalism about the world, on the gentleness of the lamb,
on the fierceness of the lion, and so on, on the omnipresence
of God in nature. You do not make the child idealistic in this
way. You will do far more, in fact, to cultivate idealism
itself in the child if you do not approach it so directly, so
crudely. What is the real reason why people have become so
irreligious lately? Simply because preaching has been far, far
too sentimental and abstract. That is why people have become so
irreligious — because the Church has respected the divine
commandments so little. For instance, there is, after all, a
commandment: “Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord
thy God in vain.” If people respect this and do not say
“Jesus Christ” after every fifth sentence, or speak
of “divine Providence,” accusations are
immediately levelled against them by the so-called
Church-minded people, by those who would be happiest hearing
“Jesus Christ” and “God” in every
sentence. The reverent surrender to the presence of the
divine Immanence, which hesitates to be for ever saying
“Lord, Lord,” is sometimes considered an
irreligious attitude. And if human teaching is pervaded by this
modest divine activity, not just a sentimental lip-service, you
hear people say on all sides, because they have been wrongly
educated: “Ah yes, he ought to speak far more than he
does about Christianity.” This attitude, even in
teaching, must be clearly kept in mind, and what the child
learns at thirteen, fourteen, and fifteen must be given less of
a sentimental turn; on the contrary, it must be directed into
the channel of practical life. In fact, no child ought really
to reach the age of fifteen without being led from arithmetic
to a knowledge of the rules of at least the simplest forms of
book-keeping. And in this way the principles of grammar and
language-teaching should be applied instead of that form of
essay which represents human mind by introducing phrases.
Yes, indeed, this “sort” of essay which children
have to write between thirteen and sixteen, is often employed
as a sort of improved edition of the mentality arising when men
gather round their beer in the evening or women have their
chitter-chatter at tea-time. Far more attention should be given
to applying language teaching to the essay of a business type,
to the business letter. And no child should pass the age of
fifteen without taking a course of writing specimen practical
business letters. Do not say that he can learn this later.
Certainly, by overcoming great difficulties, he can learn it
later, but the point is: not without overcoming these
difficulties. You do the child a great kindness if you teach
him to apply his grammar knowledge, his language knowledge, to
essays of a business nature, to business letters. In our day
there should really be no single individual who has not learnt
to write a decent business letter. Certainly he may not have to
apply this knowledge in later life, but there should not be one
single individual who has not been at one time trained to write
a respectable business letter. If the child has become satiated
with sentimental idealism from thirteen to fifteen, he
will later experience a revulsion from idealism and
become a materialist. If, at this early age, he is introduced
to the practical side of life, he will also retain a healthy
relation to the ideal needs of the soul. But these will just be
extinguished by senseless indulgence in them in early
youth.
This is extremely important, and in this connection even
certain externals, such as the division of subjects, might be
of great significance. We shall have to make compromises, as
you know, with regard to religious instruction, which will have
the disadvantage that the religious element will not come in
close connection with the other subjects. But even to-day, if
the religious parties would make the same compromises from
their side, much might be achieved by the close association of
religious instruction with other subjects. If, for
example, the teacher in religious instruction condescended now
and then to take up some other aspect of study; if, for
instance, he were to explain to the child, as an incidental
part of his religious teaching, and connected with it, the
steam-engine or something of a quite worldly nature, something
having to do with astronomy, etc., the simple fact that the
teacher of religion is doing this would make an extraordinary
impression on the consciousness of the growing children. I am
mentioning this extreme case because in the other subjects
things must be noticed which unfortunately cannot in our case
be observed in the course of religious instruction. We must not
have to think, like pedants: Now teach geography, now history,
and don't care two pins for anything else. No, we must
remember, when explaining to the child that the word
“sofa” came from the East during the Crusades, to
find room for some explanation of the manufacture of
sofas as part of the history teaching. Then we proceed to other
more Western fashions of furniture and extract something quite
new from the so-called “subject.” This will be a
tremendous boon to the growing child, particularly from the
point of view of method, for the reason that the transition
from one subject to another, the association of one fact with
another, has the most beneficent influence imaginable on the
development of the spirit, the soul, and even the body. For one
can say: A child to whose joy, in the middle of a history
lesson, the teacher suddenly begins to talk about the
manufacture of sofas, and perhaps from that goes on to discuss
designs of Oriental carpets, all so that the child really has a
survey of the whole topic, will have a better digestion than a
child who simply has a geometry lesson after a French lesson.
It will be healthier for the body, too. In this way we can
organize the lessons inwardly according to the principles of
hygiene. In these days, as it is, most people have all kinds of
digestive troubles, bodily indispositions, which come about
very often from our unnatural methods of teaching, because we
cannot adjust our teaching to the demands of life. The most
badly organized in this respect, of course, are (in Germany)
the High Schools for Girls (höhere
Töchterschulen). And if someone were to study some
day, from the point of view of the history of civilization, the
connection between women's illnesses and the educational
methods used in the Girls' High Schools, it would form quite an
interesting chapter. People's thoughts must be directed
to things of this kind simply so that, when aware of much that
has grown up recently, healthier conditions may be brought
about. Above all, people must know that the human being is a
complex being, and that the faculties which it is desired to
cultivate in him must often be prepared beforehand.
If
you want children to gather round you so that you can convey to
them in profoundly religious feeling the glory of the divine
powers in the world, and you do it with children who come just
anyhow from anywhere, you will see that what you say goes in at
one ear and out at the other without touching their feelings.
But if, after the children have written business letters in the
morning, you have them back again in the afternoon and try to
regain what was in their subconsciousness while writing
the business letters and you then try to instil religious ideas
into them, you will be successful, for you yourself will then
have created an atmosphere which craves for its antithesis.
Seriously, I am not making these proposals to you from the
point of view of abstract didactic method, but because they are
of enormous importance for life. I should like to know who has
not discovered in the world outside how much unnecessary work
is done. Business people will always agree if you say:
“Take a person employed in some business; he is told to
write a business letter to some branch connected with the firm
or to people who are to take a matter in hand. He writes a
letter; an answer is received. Then another letter has to be
written and another answer received, and so on. It is
particularly in business life a very deep-seated evil that time
is wasted in this way.” The fact simply is, that by this
means public life is carried on with colossal extravagance. It
is noticeable, too. For if, with nothing but ordinary sound
human intelligence and common sense to your credit, you get
hold of a modern duplicating book and carbon-copy belonging to
a business, you literally endure agonies. And this is not in
any way because you feel disinclined to show sympathy for the
jargon of words or dislike the interests represented there, but
you experience agonies of exasperation that things are written
down as un-practically as possible, when the copy-book in
question could be reduced to at least a quarter of its size.
And this is simply and solely because the last year of
elementary school teaching is not suitably organized. For the
loss during this year cannot be made good in later life without
almost invincible difficulties. You cannot even repair in the
continuation schools (Fortbildungsschule) the omissions
of this period because the powers which develop in it become
choked as with sand and are no longer active later on. You have
to reckon with these powers if you wish to be certain that a
person will not just superficially concoct a letter with half
his mind on it, but that he will have his mind on the work and
will draw up a letter with discretion and foresight.
The
point in the first stage, when the child comes to school until
he is nine, is that we should be well grounded in human nature
and that we should educate and teach entirely from that point
of view; from thirteen to fifteen the point in drawing up the
time-table is that as teachers and instructors we should be
rooted in life, that we should have an interest in and a
sympathy for life. I had to say all this to you before going on
to the ideal time-table, to compare it with time-tables which
will concern your teaching as well, because, of course, we are
surrounded on all sides by the outside world and its
organization.
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