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Human Values in Education
GA 310

22 July 1924, Arnheim

VI. Meetings of Parents and Teachers

Today, before going into any further explanations concerning questions of method, I should like to add something more to what I said yesterday about the teachers' conferences. We attach the greatest importance to our relationship with the parents of our Waldorf School children and in order to ensure complete harmony and agreement we arrange Parents' Evenings fairly frequently, which are attended by parents of children living in the neighbourhood. At these meetings the intentions, methods and the various arrangements of the school are discussed—naturally in a more or less general way—and, in so far as this is possible in such gatherings, the parents have the opportunity of expressing their wishes and these are given a sympathetic hearing. In this way the opportunity is provided actually to work out what we should seek to achieve in our education and moreover to do this in the whole social milieu out of which such aims have in truth their origin. The teachers hear the ideas of the parents in regard to the education of their children; and the parents hear—it is our practice always to speak with the utmost sincerity and candour—about what is taking place in the school, what our thoughts are about the education and future of the children and why it is that we think it necessary to have schools which further a free approach to education. In short, by this means the mutual understanding between teachers and parents is not only of an abstract and intellectual nature, but a continuous human contact is brought about. We feel this contact to be very important, for we have nothing else to depend upon. In a state school, everything is strictly defined. There one knows with absolute certainty the aims which the teacher must bear in mind; he knows for instance, that at 9 years of age a child must have reached a certain standard, and so on. Everything is planned with exactitude.

With us everything depends on the free individuality of each single teacher. In so far as I may be considered the director of the school, nothing is given in the way of rules and regulations. Actually there is no school director in the usual sense, but each teacher reigns supreme. Instead of a school director or headmaster we have the teachers' conferences, in which there is a common study and a common striving towards further progress. There is therefore a spirit, a concrete spirit living among the college of teachers which works freely, which is not tyrannical, which does not issue statements, rules or programmes, but has the will continually to progress, continually to make better and better arrangements, in meeting the teaching requirements. Today our teachers cannot know at all what will be good in the Waldorf School in 5 years time for in these 5 years they will have learned a great deal and out of the knowledge they will have to judge anew what is good and what is not good. This is also the reason why what associations for educational reform decide to be valuable is a matter of complete indifference in the Waldorf School. Educational matters cannot be thought out intellectually, they can only arise out of teaching experience. And it is this working out of experience which is the concern of the college of teachers. But just because we are in this situation, just because we live in a state of flux in regard to what we ourselves actually want, we need a different kind of support than is given to an ordinary school by the educational authorities, who ordain what should be done. We need the support of that social element in which the children are growing up. We need the inner support of the parents in connection with all the questions which continually crop up when the child comes to school; for he comes to school from his parents' home.

Now if the aim is to achieve an individual and harmonious relationship, the teacher is concerned with the welfare of the child possibly even more than the parents themselves to whom he looks for support. If he does not merely let the parents come and then proceed to give them information which they can make nothing much of, but if, after a parents' evening, he shows a further interest by visiting the parents in their home, then in receiving a child of school age, about 7 years old, into his class, he has taken on very much more than he thinks. He has the father, the mother and other people from the child's environment; they are standing shadowlike in the background. He has almost as much to do with them as with the child himself, especially where physiological-pathological matters are concerned. The teacher must take all this into account and work it out for himself; he must look at the situation as a whole in order really to understand the child, and above all to become clear in his own mind what he should do in regard to the child's environment. By building this bridge between himself and the parents, as he sees them in their home, a kind of support will be brought about, a support which is social in its nature and is at the same time both free and living.

To visit the parents in their home is necessary in order to foster in the parents a concern that nothing should occur which might damage the natural feeling a child must have for the authority of the teacher. A lot of work must be done between the college of teachers and the parent-body by means of an understanding imbued with feeling, with qualities of soul. Moreover the parent too, by getting to know the teachers, getting to know them pretty thoroughly, must break themselves of the tendency to be jealous of them, for indeed most parents are jealous of their children's teachers. They feel as if the teachers want to take the child away from them; but as soon as this feeling is present there is an end to what can be achieved educationally with the child. Such things, can, however, be put right if the teacher understands how to win the true support of the parents. This is what I wished to add to my previous remarks on the purpose of the teachers' conferences.

Now there is something else to be considered. We must learn to understand those moments in a child's life which are significant moments of transition. I have already referred to one such moment when the teaching, which up to this time has been imaginative and pictorial must pass over, for instance, into teaching the child about the nature of the plants. This point of time lies between the 9th and 10th year. It shows itself in the child as an inner restlessness; he asks all kinds of questions. What he asks has usually no great importance in so far as the content is concerned; but the fact that the questions are asked, that the child feels impelled to ask questions, this is undoubtedly of great significance.

The kind of relationship we establish with the child just at this time has great importance for the whole of his life. For what is it that indwells the soul of the child? It is something that can be observed in every child who is not pathological. Up to this age a child who has not been ruined by external influences accepts the authority of the teacher quite naturally; a healthy child who has not been ruined by being talked into all kinds of nonsensical ideas also has a healthy respect for every grown-up person. He looks up to such a person, taking him as an authority quite simply and as a matter of course. Just think back to your own childhood; realise what it means, particularly for the quite young child, to be able to say to himself; You may do what he does or what she does for they are good and worthy people. The child really requires nothing else than to place himself under an authority

In a certain sense this feeling is somewhat shaken between the 9th and 10th year; it is shaken simply in the course of the development of human nature itself. It is important to be able to perceive this clearly. At this time human nature experiences something quite special, which does not however rise up into the child's consciousness, but lives in indefinite sensations and feelings. The child is unable to give it expression, but it is there. What does the child now say to himself unconsciously? Earlier he said out of his instinctive feelings: If my teacher says something is good, then it is good; if he says something is bad, it is bad; if he says something is right, it is right; if he says it is wrong, it is wrong. If something gives my teacher pleasure and he says it pleases him, then it is beautiful; if he says something is ugly and it does not please him, then it is ugly. It is quite a matter of course for the young child to look upon his teacher as his model. But now, between the 9th and 10th year this inner certainty is somewhat shaken. The child begins to ask himself in his life of feeling: Where does he or she get it all from? Who is the teacher's authority? Where is this authority? At this moment the child begins to feel an inner urge to break through the visible human being, who until now has been for him a god, to that which stands behind him as super-sensible or invisible God, or Divine Being. Now the teacher, facing the child, must contrive in some simple way to confirm this feeling in him. He must approach the child in such a way that he feels: Behind my teacher there is something super-sensible which gives him support. He does not speak in an arbitrary way; he is a messenger from the Divine.

One must make the child aware of this. But how? Least of all by preaching. One can only give a hint in words, one will achieve nothing whatever by a pedantic approach. But if one comes up to the child and perhaps says something to him which as far as content goes has no special importance, if one says a few words which perhaps are quite unimportant but which are spoken in such a tone of voice that he sees: He or she has a heart, this heart itself believes in what is standing behind,—then something can be achieved. We must make the child aware of this standing within the universe, but we must make him aware of it in the right way. Even if he cannot yet take in abstract, rationalistic ideas, he already has enough understanding to come and ask a question: Oh, I would so much like to know .... Children of this age often come with such questions. If we now say to him: Just think, what I am able to give you I receive from the sun; if the sun were not there I should not be able to give you anything at all in life; if the divine power of the moon were not there to preserve for us while we sleep what we receive from the sun I should not be able to give you anything either. In so far as its content is concerned we have not said anything of particular importance. If however we say it with such warmth that the child perceives that we love the sun and the moon, then we can lead him beyond the stage at which he asks these questions and in the majority of cases this holds good for the whole of life. One must know that these critical moments occur in the child's life. Then quite of itself the feeling will arise: Up to this time when telling stories about the fir tree and the oak, about the buttercup and dandelion, or about the sunflower and the violet, I have spoken in fairytale fashion about Nature and in this way I have led the child into a spiritual world; but now the time has come when I can begin to tell stories taken from the Gospels. If we begin to do this earlier, or try to teach him anything in the nature of a catechism we destroy something in the child, but if we begin now, when he is trying to break through towards the spiritual world, we do something which the child demands with his whole being.

Now where is that book to be found in which the teacher can read what teaching is? The children themselves are this book. We should not learn to teach out of any other book than the one lying open before us and consisting of the children themselves; but in order to read in this book we need the widest possible interest in each individual child and nothing must divert us from this. Here the teacher may well experience difficulties and these must be consciously overcome.

Let us assume that the teacher has children of his own. In this case he is faced with a more direct and more difficult task than if he had no children. He must therefore be all the more conscious just in this respect and above all he must not hold the opinion that all children should be like his own. He must not think this even subconsciously. He must ask himself whether it is not the case that people who have children are subconsciously of the opinion that all children should be like theirs.

We see therefore that what the teacher has perforce to admit touches on the most intimate threads of the life of soul. And unless he penetrates to these intimate subconscious threads he will not find complete access to the children, while at the same time winning their full confidence. Children suffer great, nay untold damage if they come to believe that other children are the teacher's favourites. This must be avoided at all costs. It is, not so easily avoided as people usually think, but it can be avoided if the teacher is imbued with all those principles which can result from an anthroposophical knowledge of man. Then such a matter finds its own solution.

There is something which calls for special attention in connection with the theme I have chosen for this course of lectures, something which is connected with the significance of education for the whole world and for humanity. It lies in the very nature of human existence that the teacher, who has so much to do with children and who as a rule has so little opportunity of living outside his sphere of activity, needs some support from the outer world, needs necessarily to look out into this world. Why is it that teachers so easily become dried up? It happens because they have continually to stoop to the level of the child. We certainly have no reason to make fun of the teacher if, limited to the usual conceptual approach to teaching, he becomes dried up. We should nevertheless perceive where the danger lies, and the anthroposophical teacher is in a position to be specially aware of this. For if the average teacher's comprehension of history gradually becomes that of a school textbook—and this may well happen in the course of a few years' teaching—where should he look for another kind of comprehension, for ideas in keeping with what is truly human? How can the situation be amended? The time remaining to the teacher after his school week is usually spent trying to recover from fatigue, and often only parish pump politics plays a part in forming his attitude towards questions of world importance. Thus the soul life of such a teacher does not turn outwards and enter into the kind of understanding which is necessary for a human being between say, the ages of 30 and 40. Furthermore he does not keep fit and well if he thinks that the best way to recuperate in leisure hours is to play cards or do something else which is in no way connected with the life of the spirit.

The situation of a teacher who is an anthroposophist, whose life is permeated with anthroposophy, is very different. His perspective of the world is continually widening; his sphere of vision extends ever further and further. It is very easy to show how these things affect each other—It is indicated by the fact that the most enthusiastic anthroposophist, if, for instance, he becomes a teacher of history, immediately tends to carry anthroposophy into his conception of history and so falls into the error of wanting to teach not history, but anthroposophy. This is also something one must try to avoid. It will be completely avoided if such a teacher, having on the one hand his children and on the other hand anthroposophy, feels the need of building a bridge between the school and the homes of the parents. Even though anthroposophy is knowledge as applied to man, understanding as applied to man, there are nevertheless necessities in life which must be observed. How do people often think today, influenced as they are by current ideas in regard to educational reform or even by revolutionary ideas in this field? I will not at this moment enter into what is said in socialist circles, but will confine myself to what is thought by those belonging to the prosperous middle classes. There the view is held that people should get out of the town and settle in the country in order that many children may be educated right away from the town. Only so, it is felt, can they develop naturally. And so on, and so on. But how does such a thought fit into a more comprehensive conception of the world? It really amounts to an admission of one's own helplessness. For the point is not to think out some way in which a number of children may be educated quite apart from the world, according to one's own intellectual, abstract ideas, but rather to discover how children may be helped to grow into true human beings within the social milieu which is their environment. One must muster one's strength and not take children away from the social milieu in which they are living. It is essential to have this courage. It is something which is connected with the world significance of education.

But then there must be a deep conviction that the world must find its way into the school. The world must continue to exist within the school, albeit in a childlike way. If therefore we would stand on the ground of a healthy education we should not think out all kinds of occupational activity intended only for children. For instance all kinds of things are devised for children to do. They must learn to plait; they must carry out all kinds of rather meaningless activities which have absolutely nothing to do with life, merely to keep them busy. Such methods can never serve any good purpose in the child's development. On the contrary, all play activity at school must be a direct imitation of life. Everything must proceed out of life, nothing should be thought out. Hence, in spite of the good intentions lying behind them, those things which have been introduced into the education of little children by Froebel or others are not directly related to the real development of the children. They are thought out, they belong to our rationalistic age. Nothing that is merely thought out should form part of a school's activity.

Above all there must be a secret feeling that life must hold sway everywhere in education. In this connection one can have quite remarkable experiences. I have told you already that the child who has reached the stage of changing his teeth should have the path of learning made smooth for him by means of painting or drawing. Writing—a form of drawing which has become abstract—should be developed out of a kind of painting-drawing or drawing-painting. But in doing this it should be borne in mind that the child is very sensitive to aesthetic impressions. A little artist is hidden somewhere inside him, and it is just here that quite interesting discoveries can be made. A really good teacher may be put in charge of a class, someone who is ready to carry out the things I have been explaining, someone who is full of enthusiasm and who says: One must simply do away with all the earlier methods of education and begin to educate in this new way! So now he starts off with this business of painting-drawing or drawing-painting. The pots of paint and the paint brushes are ready and the children take up their brushes. At this point one can have the following experience. The teacher simply has no idea of the difference between a colour that shines and one that does not shine. He has already become too old. In this respect one can have the strangest experiences. I once had the opportunity of telling an excellent chemist about our efforts to produce radiant, shining colours for the paintings in the Goetheanum and how we were experimenting with colours made out of plants. Thereupon he said: But today we are already able to do much better—today we actually have the means whereby we can produce colours which are iridescent and begin to shimmer when it is dark. This chemist understood not a word of what I had been saying; he immediately thought in terms of chemistry. Grown-up people often have no sense for a shining colour. Children still have this sense. Everything goes wonderfully with very few words if one is able to read out of the nature of childhood what the child still possesses. The teacher's guidance must however be understanding and artistic in its approach, then the child will find his way easily into everything his teacher wishes to bring to him.

All this can however only be brought about if we feel deeply that school is a place for young life; but at the same time we must realise what is suitable for adult life. Here we must cultivate a sensitivity as to what can and what cannot be done. Please let no one take offence at what I am about to say. Last year in the framework of a conference on anthroposophical education the following took place. There was the wish to show to a public audience what has such an important part to play in our education: Eurythmy. This was done, but it was done in the following manner. In this particular place children gave a demonstration of what they had learned at school in their eurythmy lessons and a performance showing eurythmy as an art was only given later. Things were not arranged so that first people were given the opportunity of gaining some understanding of eurythmy, so that they might perhaps say: Ah, so that is eurythmy, that is what has been introduced into the school. It was done the other way round; the children's eurythmy demonstration was given first place, with the result that the audience was quite unconvinced and had no idea what it was all about. Just imagine that up till now there had been no art of painting: then all of a sudden an exhibition was held showing how children begin to daub with colours! Just as little was it possible for those who were outside the anthroposophical movement to see in this children's demonstration what is really intended and what actually underlies anthroposophy and eurythmy. Such a demonstration only has meaning if eurythmy is first introduced as an art; for then people can see what part it has to play in life and its significance in the world of art. Then the importance of eurythmy in education will also be recognised. Otherwise people may well say: Today all kinds of whimsical ideas are rife in the world—and eurythmy will be looked upon as just such another whimsical idea.

These are things which must lead us, not only to prepare ourselves for our work in education in the old, narrow sense, but to work with a somewhat wider outlook so that the school is not sundered from life but is an inseparable part of it. This is just as important as to think out some extremely clever method in education. Again and again I have had to lay stress on the fact that it is the attitude of mind which counts, the attitude of mind and the gift of insight. It is obvious that not everything can be equally perfect; this goes without saying. I do beg you not to take amiss what I have just said; this applies also to anthroposophists. I appreciate everything that is done, as it is here, with such willing sacrifice. But if I were not to speak in this way the following might well happen. Because wherever there is light there are also strong shadows, so wherever efforts are made to do things in a more spiritual way, there too the darkest shadows arise. Here the danger is actually not less than in the usual conventional circles, but greater. And it is particularly necessary for us, if we are to be equal to the tasks with which we shall be faced in a life which is becoming more and more complicated, to be fully awake and aware of what life is demanding of human beings. Today we no longer have those sharply defined traditions which guided an earlier humanity. We can no longer content ourselves with what our forefathers deemed right; we must bring up our children so that they may be able to form their own judgments. It is therefore imperative to break through the narrow confines of our preconceived ideas and take our stand within the all-comprehensive life and work of the world. We must no longer, as in earlier times, continue to find simple concepts by means of which we would seek to explain far-reaching questions of life. For the most part, even if there is no desire to be pedantic, the attempt is made to characterise most things with superficial definitions, much in the same way as was done in a certain Greek school of philosophy. When the question was put: what is a man?—the explanation given was as follows: A man is a living being who stands on two legs and has no feathers.—Many definitions which are given today are based on the same pattern,—But the next day, after someone had done some hard thinking as to what might lie behind these portentous words, he brought with him a plucked goose, for this was a being able to stand on two legs and having no feathers and he now asserted that this was a man. This is only an extreme case of what you find for instance in Goethe's play, “Goetz von Berlechingen,” where the little boy begins to relate what he knows about geography. When he comes to his own district he describes it according to his lesson book and then goes on to describe a man whose development has taken place in this same neighbourhood. He has however not the faintest idea that the latter is his father. Out of sheer “erudition,” based on what he has learned out of the book, he does not know his own father. Nevertheless these things do not go so far as the experience I once had in Weimar, where there are, of course, newspapers. These are produced in the way that usually happens in small places. Bits and pieces of news regarded as suitable are cut out of newspapers belonging to larger towns and inserted into the paper in question. So on one occasion, on 22nd January, we in Weimar read the following item of news: Yesterday a violent thunderstorm broke over our town. This piece of news had, however, been taken out of the Leipziger Nachrichten.

Similar things happen in life and we are continually caught in the web of their confusion. People theorise in abstract concepts. They study the theory of relativity and in so doing get the notion that it is all the same whether someone travels by car to Oosterbeek or whether Oosterbeek comes to him. If however anyone should wish to draw a conclusion based on reality he would have to say: If the car is not used it does not suffer wear and tear and the chauffeur does not get tired. Should the opposite be the case the resulting effect will likewise be opposite. If one thinks in this way then, without drawing a comparison between every line and movement, he will know out of an inner commonsense that his own being is changed when from a state of rest it is brought into movement. Bearing in mind the kind of thinking prevalent today, it is no wonder that a theory of relativity develops out of it when attention is turned to things in isolation. If however one goes back to reality it will become apparent that there is no accord between reality and what is thought out on the basis of mere relationship. Today, whether or not we are learned or clever we live perpetually outside reality; we live in a world of ideas in much the same way as the little boy in Goetz von Berlechingen, who did not know his father, in spite of having read a description of him in his geography book. We do not live in such a way as to have direct contact with reality.

But this is what we must bring into the school; we must face this direct impact of reality. We are able to do so if above all we learn to understand the true nature of man and what is intimately connected with him. It is for this reason that again and again I have to point out how easy it is for people today to assert that the child should be taught pictorially, by means of object lessons, and that nothing should be brought to him that is beyond his immediate power of comprehension. But in so doing we are drawn into really frightful trivialities. I have already mentioned the calculating machine. Now just consider the following: At the age of 8 I take something in but I do not really understand it. All I know is that it is my teacher who says it. Now I love my teacher. He is quite naturally my authority. Because he has said it I accept it with my whole heart. At the age of 15 I still do not understand it. But when I am 35 I meet with an experience in life which calls up, as though from wonderful spiritual depths, what I did not understand when I was 8 years old, but which I accepted solely on the authority of the teacher whom I loved. Because he was my authority I felt sure it must be true. Now life brings me another experience and suddenly, in a flash, I understand the earlier one. All this time it had remained hidden within me, and now life grants me the possibility of understanding it. Such an experience gives rise to a tremendous sense of obligation. And one cannot do otherwise than say: Sad indeed it is for anyone who experiences no moments in life when out of his own inner being something rises up into consciousness which he accepted long ago on the basis of authority and which he is only now able to understand. No one should be deprived of such an experience, for in later years it is the source of enthusiastic and purposeful activity in life. [Walter de la Mare has described this experience and the joy of saying: “Ah, so that was the meaning of that.”]

But let us add something else. I said that between the change of teeth and puberty children should not be given moral precepts, but in the place of these care should be taken to ensure that what is good pleases them because it pleases their teacher, and what is bad displeases them because it displeases their teacher. During the second period of life everything should be built up on sympathy with the good, antipathy for the bad. Then moral feelings are implanted deeply in the soul and there is established a sense of moral well-being in experiencing what is good and a sense of moral discomfort in experiencing what is bad. Now comes the time of puberty. Just as walking is fully developed during the first 7 years, speech during the second 7 years, so during the third 7 years of life thinking comes fully into its own. It becomes independent. This only takes place with the oncoming of puberty; only then are we really capable of forming a judgment. If at this time, when we begin to form thoughts out of an inner urge, feelings have already been implanted in us in the way I have indicated, then a good foundation has been laid and we are able to form judgments. For instance: this pleases me and I am in duty bound to act in accordance with it; that displeases me and it is my duty to leave it alone. The significance of this is that duty itself grows out of pleasure and displeasure; it is not instilled into me, but grows out of pleasure and displeasure. This is the awakening of true freedom in the human soul. We experience freedom through the fact that the sense for what is moral is the deepest individual impulse of the individual human soul. If a child has been led to a sense of the moral by an authority which is self-understood, so that the moral lives for him in the world of feeling, then after puberty the conception of duty works out of his individual inner human being. This is a healthy procedure. In this way we lead the children rightly to the point at which they are able to experience what individual freedom is. Why do people not have this experience today? They do not have it because they cannot have it, because before puberty a knowledge of good and bad was instilled into them; what they should and should not do was inculcated. But moral instruction which pays no heed to a right approach by gradual stages dries up the human being, makes out of him, as it were, a skeleton of moral precepts on which the conduct of life is hung like clothes on a coat-hanger.

If everything in life is to form a harmonious whole, education must follow a quite different course from the one usually pursued. It must be understood that the child goes through one stage between birth and the change of teeth, another between the change of teeth and puberty and yet another between puberty and the age of 21. Why does the child do this or that in the years before he is 7? Because he wants to imitate. He wants to do what he sees being done in his immediate surroundings. But what he does must be connected with life, it must be led over into living activity. We can do very much to help bring this about if we accustom the child to feel gratitude for what he receives from his environment. Gratitude is the basic virtue in the child between birth and the change of teeth. If he sees that everyone who stands in some kind of relationship to him in the outer world shows gratitude for what he receives from this world; if, in confronting the outer world and wanting to imitate it, the child sees the kind of gestures that express gratitude, then a great deal is done towards establishing in him the right moral human attitude. Gratitude is what belongs to the first 7 years of life.

If gratitude has been developed in the child during this first period it will now be easy between the 7th and 14th years to develop what must be the activating impulse in everything he does. This is love. Love is the virtue belonging to the second period of life. And only after puberty does there develop out of what has been experienced with love between the change of teeth and puberty that most inward of human impulses, the impulse of duty. Then what Goethe once expressed so beautifully becomes the guiding line for life. Goethe asks: “What is duty? It is when one loves what one commands oneself.” This is the goal to which we must attain. We shall however only reach it when we are led to it by stages: Gratitude—Love—Duty.

A few days ago we saw how things arising out of an earlier epoch of life are carried over into later ones. I spoke about this in answer to a question. Now I must point out that this has its good side also; it is something that must be. Of course I do not mean that gratitude should cease with the 7th year or love with the 14th year. But here we have the very secret of life: what is developed in one epoch can be carried over into later epochs, but there will be metamorphosis, intensification, change. We should not be able to carry over the good belonging to one epoch were there not also the possibility of carrying over the bad. Education however must concern itself with this and see to it that the force inherent in the human being, enabling him to carry over something out of an earlier into a later epoch, is used to further what is good. In order to achieve this however we must make use of what I said yesterday. Let us take the case of a child in whom, owing to certain underlying pathological tendencies, there is the possibility of moral weakness in later life. We perceive that what is good does not really please him, neither does what is bad awaken his displeasure. In this respect he makes no progress. Then, because love is not able to develop in the right way between the 7th and the 14th year, we try to make use of what is inherent in human nature itself, we try to develop in the child a real sense of gratitude, to educate him so that he turns with real gratitude to the self-understood authority of the teacher. If we do this, things will improve in respect of love also. A knowledge of human nature will prevent us from setting about things in such a way that we say: This child is lacking in love for the good and antipathy for the bad; I must instil this into him! It cannot be done. But things will go of themselves if we foster gratitude in the child. It is therefore essential to know the part gratitude plays in relation to love in the course of moral development in life; we must know that gratitude is a natural development in human nature during the first years of life and that love is active in the whole human organisation as a quality of soul before it comes to physical expression at puberty. For what then makes itself felt outwardly is active between the years of 7 and 14 as the deepest principle of life and growth in man; it weaves and lives in his inmost being. Here, where it is possible to discuss these things on a fundamental basis, I may be allowed to say what is undoubtedly a fact. When a teacher has once understood the nature of an education that takes its stand on a real knowledge of man, when on the one side he is engaged on the actual practice of such an education, and when on the other side he is actively concerned in the study of the anthroposophical conception of the world, then each works reciprocally on the other. For the teacher must work in the school in such a way that he takes as a foregone conclusion the fact that love is inwardly active in the child and then comes to outer expression in sexuality.

The anthroposophical teacher also attends meetings where the world conception of anthroposophy is studied. There he hears from those who have already acquired the necessary knowledge derived from Initiation Wisdom about such things as the following: The human being consists of physical body, etheric body, astral body and ego. Between the 7th and 14th years the etheric body works mainly on the physical body; the astral body descends into the physical and etheric bodies at the time of puberty. But anyone able to penetrate deeply into these matters, anyone able to perceive more than just physical processes, whose perceptions always include spiritual processes and, when the two are separated, can perceive each separately, such a man or woman can discern how in an 11 or 12 year old boy the astral body is already sounding, chiming, as it were, with the deeper tone which will first make itself heard outwardly at puberty. And a similar process takes place in the astral body of an 11 or 12 year old girl.

These things are actual, and if they are regarded as realities they will throw light on life's problems. It is just concerning these very things that one can have quite remarkable experiences. I will not withhold such experiences. In the year 1906 I gave a number of lectures in Paris before a relatively small circle of people. I had prepared my lectures bearing these people specially in mind, taking account of the fact that in this circle there were men of letters, writers, artists and others who at this particular epoch were concerned with quite specific questions. Since then things have changed, but at that time a certain something lay behind the questions in which these people were interested. They were of the type which gets up in the morning filled with the notion: I belong to a Society which is interested in the history of literature, the history of the arts; when one belongs to such a Society one wears this sort of tie, and since the year so-and-so one no longer goes to parties in tails or dinner jacket. One is aware of this when invited to dine where these and similar topics are discussed. Then in the evening one goes to the theatre and sees plays which deal with current problems! The so-called poets then write such plays themselves. At first there is a man of deep and inward sensibility, out of whose heart these great problems arise in an upright and honourable way. First there is a Strindberg. Later on follow those who popularise Strindberg for a wider public. And so, at the time I held these Paris lectures, that particular problem was much discussed which shortly before had driven the tragic Weininger to suicide. The problem which Weininger portrays in so childlike yet noble a fashion in Geschlecht und Charakter (Sex and Character) was the problem of the day. After I had dealt with those things which were essential to an understanding of the subject I proceeded to explain that every human being has one sex in the external physical body, but bears the other sex in the etheric body. So that the woman is man in etheric body, and the man is woman. Every human being in his totality is bi-sexual; he bears the other sex within him. I can actually observe when something of this kind is said, how people begin to look out of their astral bodies, how they suddenly feel that a problem is solved for them over which they have chewed for a long time, and how a certain restlessness, but a pleasant kind of restlessness is perceptible among the audience. Where there are big problems, not merely insignificant sensations in life, but where there is real enthusiasm, even if it is sometimes close to small talk, then again one becomes aware of how a sense of relief, of being freed from a burden, emanates from those present.

So the anthroposophical teacher always looks on big problems as being something which can work on him in such a way that he remains human at every age of life; so that he does not become dried up, but remains fresh and alert and able to bring this freshness with him into the school. It is a completely different thing whether a teacher only looks into text books and imparts their content to the children, or whether he steps out of all this and, as human being pure and simple, confronts the great perspectives of the world. In this case he carries what he himself has absorbed into the atmosphere of the classroom when he enters it and gives his lesson.

Sechster Vortrag

Ergänzend zu dem, was ich gestern über die Lehrerkonferenzen, die Seele der Schule, gesagt habe, möchte ich heute, bevor ich in der rein methodischen Auseinandersetzung weiterschreite, noch hinzufügen, daß wir den allergrößten Wert darauf legen müssen, mit der Elternschaft unserer Waldorfschulkinder in völliger Harmonie, in vollem Einklange dadurch zu stehen, daß wir in verhältnismäßig kurzen Zeiträumen Elternabende veranstalten, die dann von den im Orte anwesenden Eltern der Kinder besucht werden, mit denen das besprochen wird, was Absichten, Methoden, Einrichtungen der Schule sind - natürlich im allgemeinen vor der Elternversammlung, deren Wünsche dann auch, insofern sie sich in einer Versammlung zum Ausdruck bringen lassen, entgegengenommen werden. Dadurch hat man Gelegenheit, das, was pädagogisch erreicht werden soll, wirklich herauszuarbeiten aus dem ganzen sozialen Milieu, aus dem es ja auch der Wirklichkeit nach herausstammt. Man hört als Lehrer das, was sich die Eltern vorstellen über die Erziehung der Kinder; und die Eltern hören - es wird bei uns auch immer mit einer großen Ehrlichkeit und Unverhohlenheit gesprochen -, was in der Schule vorgeht, wie man über die Erziehung und über die Zukunft der Kinder denkt; wie man darüber denkt, daß es notwendig ist, solche freien Erziehungsinstitute zu haben. Kurz, man steht mit den Eltern dadurch nicht nur in einem abstrakten Gedankeneinklange, sondern man erreicht einen fortwährenden Kontakt mit den Eltern. Darauf müssen wir deshalb schon einen großen Wert legen, weil wir keine andere Anlehnung haben. In einer Staatsschule ist ja alles abgezirkelt. Da weiß man mit einer großen Bestimmtheit, was man für Lehrziele haben muß, man weiß, daß das Kind mit 9 Jahren zum Beispiel so und so weit sein muß und so weiter. Das ist alles genau bestimmt.

Bei uns unterliegt alles der freien Individualität des einzelnen Lehrers sogar. Was von der Leitung, insofern es auf mich ankommt, ausgehen wird, sind ja keine Direktionen, keine Richtungen. Wir haben überhaupt keine Direktion in der Schule, sondern der einzelne Lehrer ist in einem gewissen Sinne souverän. Was wir treiben, statt der Direktion, das ist Studium und Weiterkommen durch die Lehrerkonferenzen selber. Das ist ein Geist, der als ein konkreter Geist unter der Lehrerschaft lebt, der auch frei wirkt, der nicht tyrannisch ist, der nicht Sätze, Bestimmungen oder Programme gibt, aber der fortwährend weiterkommen will, fortwährend besser und besser die Einrichtungen und auch den Lehrgang treffen will. Unsere Lehrer können heute gar nicht wissen, was in 5 Jahren in der Waldorfschule gut ist; denn sie werden in diesen 5 Jahren sehr viel gelernt haben, und dann sollen sie nach 5 Jahren beurteilen, was gut oder was nicht gut ist. Deshalb ist es auch für das, was in der Waldorfschule getrieben wird, so unendlich gleichgültig, was pädagogische Reformvereine festsetzen, von dem sie meinen, daß es gut wäre für die Erziehung. So etwas kann man für die Erziehung ja nicht aus dem Verstande herausspinnen, das kann man sich nur erarbeiten. Und auf dieses Erarbeiten kommt es für die Lehrerschaft an. Aber dadurch, daß wir in dieser Lage sind, daß wir im lebendigen Fluß leben mit allem, was wir wollen, dadurch brauchen wir eben eine andere Anlehnung, als eine gewöhnliche Schule sie hat in der Behörde, die über ihr steht und ihr sagt, was sie tun soll. Wir brauchen die Anlehnung an dasjenige soziale Element, aus dem die Kinder herausgewachsen sind. Wir brauchen die innige Anlehnung an die Eltern in bezug auf alle Fragen, die sich fortwährend ergeben, wenn man das Kind in der Schule hat; und man hat es ja in der Schule, indem es herauskommt aus dem Elternhaus.

Wenn nun der individuelle Einklang aber erzielt ist, der Lehrer sich, insofern er sich an die Eltern anlehnt, womöglich noch mehr als die Eltern selber kümmert um das ganze Gedeihen des Kindes - nicht bloß die Eltern kommen läßt und Auskünfte gibt, aus denen man nicht viel machen kann, sondern wenn der Lehrer am Elternabend auch noch sein Interesse fortsetzt in das Elternhaus hinein -, dann hat man in einem Kinde, wenn man es im schulpflichtigen Alter bekommt, also gegen das 7. Jahr hin, zunächst noch viel mehr, als man denkt: man hat in ihm den Vater, die Mutter, andere Menschen aus der Umgebung; die stehen wie Schatten dahinter. Mit denen hat man es fast ebenso zu tun wie mit dem Kinde selber, insbesondere auch in physiologisch-pathologischer Beziehung. Und das alles muß der Lehrer sich erarbeiten, muß es zusammenschauen, um das Kind wirklich zu verstehen und vor allen Dingen, um dasjenige verständnisvoll zu machen, was er in der Umgebung des Kindes zu tun hat. Und indem diese Brücke zum Elternhaus hinüber geschaffen wird, wird auch wieder eine Art sozialer Anlehnung, aber in freier, lebendiger Weise, herbeigeführt.

Man braucht auch dasElternhaus dazu, daß dieEltern dafür sorgen, daß die selbstverständliche Autorität, die das Kind zum Lehrer haben muß, in nichts beeinträchtigt wird. Es muß da viel gearbeitet werden mit psychischen Verständnismitteln zwischen der Lehrerschaft und der Elternschaft. Und die Eltern wieder, indem sie den Lehrer kennenlernen und ziemlich genau kennenlernen, müssen sich ganz abgewöhnen, auf den Lehrer eifersüchtig zu werden. Denn die meisten Eltern sind ja auf den Lehrer ihrer Kinder eifersüchtig. Sie empfinden es so, als ob der Lehrer ihnen das Kind wegnehmen will. Sobald aber dies vorhanden ist, kann man erzieherisch nicht mehr viel mit dem Kinde anfangen. Das kann jedoch in die richtige Situation hineingebracht werden, wenn der Lehrer es zugleich versteht, die richtige Anlehnung an das Elternhaus zu bekommen. — Das ist also das, was ich zu dem, was die Lehrerkonferenzen sein sollen, hinzufügen muß.

Dann aber handelt es sich wirklich darum, jene Momente im Leben des Kindes zu verstehen, die bedeutungsvolle Übergangsmomente sind. Ich habe schon einen solchen angeführt, wo der Unterricht aus der vorherigen märchenhaften Bildlichkeit übergehen muß in das Lehren der Pflanzenwesen zum Beispiel. Dieser Zeitpunkt des Kindes liegt zwischen dem 9. und 10. Jahre. Da zeigt das Kind etwas wie eine innere Unruhe. Es kommen allerlei Gefühle zum Vorschein, die einem sagen: Was ist denn das mit dem Kinde? Das Kind weiß nicht, wie es um es steht; aber es hat eine innere Unruhe, es fragt allerlei. Was es fragt, das hat, seinem Inhalte nach, zumeist keine große Bedeutung; aber daß es fragt, daß es überhaupt so auftritt, das hat sehr wohl eine Bedeutung.

Was man nun in diesem Zeitpunkt mit dem Kinde in bezug auf das Verhältnis zu dem Kinde tut, das hat nun für das ganze Leben des Kindes eine große Bedeutung. Denn, was ist es, was da in dem Kinde sitzt? Und in jedem Kinde sitzt es, das nicht pathologisch ist. Bis dahin nimmt ein Kind, das nicht von außen verdorben ist, die Autorität des Lehrers ganz von selber an; denn jedem Erwachsenen gegenüber hat ein gesundes Kind, dem nicht allerlei Zeug vorgeredet worden ist, um es zu verderben, auch einen ganz gesunden Respekt. Es sieht zu ihm in naiver Weise wie zu einer selbstverständlichen Autorität hinauf. Denken Sie nur selbst an Ihre Kindheit zurück, was es heißt, gerade für das ganz junge Kind, sich sagen zu können: Du darfst das so machen wie der oder wie die, das ist eine wertvolle Persönlichkeit. — Man hat ja kein anderes Bedürfnis, als sich unter eine Autorität zu stellen.

Das wird in einem gewissen Sinne zwischen dem 9. und 10. Jahre etwas erschüttert, wird einfach erschüttert durch die Entwickelung der menschlichen Natur selber. Man muß das nur durchgreifend einsehen können. Die menschliche Natur kommt in diesem Zeitraum dazu, etwas ganz Besonderes zu empfinden. Das kommt beim Kinde nicht ins Bewußtsein herauf, es lebt in unbestimmten Empfindungen und Gefühlen. Das Kind kann es auch nicht aussprechen, aber es ist da. Was sagt sich da das Kind, unbewußt? Vorher sagte es sich, seinen Empfindungen nach: Das ist gut, wovon der Erzieher sagt, es sei gut; das ist böse, wovon er sagt, es sei böse; das ist richtig, wovon der Erzieher sagt, es sei richtig; das ist unrichtig, wovon er sagt, es sei unrichtig; das ist schön, was dem Erzieher gefällt und wovon er sagt, daß es ihm gefällt, und das ist häßlich, was ihm nicht gefällt und wovon er sagt, daß es häßlich ist. - Da ist der Erzieher für das Kind die ganz selbstverständliche Norm. In diesem Zeitpunkte nun, zwischen dem 9. und 10. Lebensjahr, wird das innerlich etwas erschüttert, Das Kind beginnt, sich, dem Gefühle nach, zu fragen: Woher hat es denn der oder die? Wer ist denn für den Erzieher die Autorität? Wo ist denn diese Autorität? — In diesem Moment beginnt ein innerlicher Drang beim Kinde, von dem sichtbaren Menschen aus, der bis dahin ein Gott für das Kind ist, durchzubrechen zu dem, was als übersinnlicher oder unsichtbarer Gott oder Göttlichkeit dahintersteht. Das muß man dem Kinde gegenüber ein fach jetzt bewähren. Man muß jetzt so dem Kinde gegenübertreten, daß es das Gefühl bekommt: Der hat nach rückwärts, nach dem Übersinnlichen hin, eine Anlehnung; der redet nicht willkürlich aus sich selbst heraus, der ist ein Missionar des Göttlichen.

Das muß man dem Kinde bemerklich machen. Aber wie? Durch Dozieren am allerwenigsten. Man kann es nur aussprechen, aber am wenigsten erreicht man durch Dozieren. Aber wenn man an das Kind herankommt, vielleicht auch irgend etwas sagt, was inhaltlich keine besondere Bedeutung hat, wenn man mit dem Kinde etwas spricht, was vielleicht inhaltlich keine Bedeutung hat, aber doch mit einer solchen Stimmlage gesprochen wird, daß es sieht: Der oder die haben ein Herz, und dieses Herz glaubt selbst an das, was dahintersteht — dann kann man etwas erreichen. Dieses Drinnenstehen in der Welt muß man dem Kinde bemerklich machen, richtig bemerklich machen. Das Kind ist schon so verständig, wenn es auch nicht abstrakt-rationalistisch aufnimmt, daß es kommt und fragt: Ach, ich möchte gerne wissen... Mit solchen Fragen kommen nämlich die Kinder in diesem Alter. Sagt man ihm jetzt: Sieh einmal, von der Sonne empfange ich das, was ich dir geben kann; wäre die Sonne nicht, so würde ich dir im Leben nichts geben können; wäre der Mond nicht, der das, was wir von der Sonne bekommen, göttlich bewahrt, während wir schlafen, so könnte ich dir auch nichts geben — so hat das seinem Inhalte nach noch nicht viel Bedeutung; wenn man es aber mit einer solchen Wärme sagt, daß das Kind merkt, man liebt Sonne und Mond, dann führt man das Kind über diese Fragen hinüber und für die meisten Fälle für das Leben hinüber. Man muß wissen, daß diese krisenhaften Augenblicke im Leben des Kindes da sind. Dann wird man ganz von selbst das Gefühl haben, bis dahin hat man in Anlehnung an Fichte und Eiche, an Hahnenfuß und Löwenzahn, an die Sonnenblume und an das Veilchen von allerlei märchenhaften Wesen über die Natur geredet und dadurch das Kind zu einer geisthaften Welt hingeführt; jetzt aber ist der Zeitpunkt gekommen, wo man anfangen kann, Geschichten aus den Evangelien zu erzählen. Beginnt man damit, oder mit katechismusartigen Anweisungen früher, so zerstört man etwas im Kinde; beginnt man aber jetzt, wo der Durchbruch nach der geistigen Welt hin im Kinde beginnt, dann tut man etwas, wonach das Kind seiner ganzen Wesenheit nach verlangt.

Ja, meine sehr verehrten Anwesenden, wo ist denn das Buch, worin der Pädagoge lesen kann, was Pädagogik ist? Das sind die Kinder selber! Man soll aus keinem andern Buche Pädagogik lernen als aus dem Buche, das aufgeschlagen vor einem liegt und das die Kinder selber sind; aber man bedarf dazu eines umfänglichsten Interesses für jedes einzelne Kind und man darf davon nicht abgelenkt werden. Darin hat der Pädagoge Schwierigkeiten, die er bewußt überwinden muß.

Nehmen wir nun an, der Pädagoge hat selbst Kinder. Dann hat er eine schärfere und stärkere Aufgabe, als wenn er keine Kinder hat. Er muß dann bewußter werden gerade auf diesem Gebiete, und er darf vor allen Dingen nicht die Meinung haben, alle Kinder müßten so werden wie die seinigen, auch nicht im Unbewußten. Das muß er bei sich aufsuchen: daß im Unbewußten bei jedem, der Kinder hat, die Meinung vorhanden ist, daß alle Kinder so werden müßten wie die seinigen.

Also es geht das, was man als Pädagoge aufnehmen muß, schon in die intimsten Fäden des Seelenlebens hinein. Und werden diese intimsten Fäden des Seelenlebens nicht ergriffen, dann steht man eben doch nicht so in der Klasse drinnen, daß man den vollen Zugang zu den Kindern und damit das volle Vertrauen der Kinder auch wirklich gewinnt. Es ist ein großer, ein ungeheurer Schaden, wenn Kinder den Glauben bekommen können, daß andere die Lieblinge des Lehrers sind. Das muß unter allen Umständen absolut vermieden werden. Es ist aber auch wieder nicht so leicht zu vermeiden, als man gewöhnlich denkt; es wird aber vermieden, wenn man mit allen denjenigen Prinzipien in der Schule steht, die sich gerade aus anthroposophischer Menschenerkenntnis heraus ergeben können. Da bildet sich die Sache ganz von selber.

Und dann ist etwas, was insbesondere für das Thema, das ich diesem Vortragszyklus gegeben habe, in Betracht kommt - etwas, was zusammenhängt mit der ganzen Welt- und Menschheitsbedeutung des Pädagogischen. Es ist ja durchaus in dem Wesen des Menschlichen gelegen, daß der Lehrer, der so viel mit Kindern zu tun hat und so wenig eigentlich gewöhnlich außerhalb des Schulmäßigen in seiner Sphäre leben kann, Anlehnung braucht an die Welt, daß er herausgucken muß in die Welt. Warum werden denn die Lehrer leicht so vertrocknete Naturen? Sie werden es, weil sie sich eigentlich immer hinunterbewegen müssen auf das Niveau des Kindes. Man sollte eigentlich gar nicht humoristisch werden über den Lehrer, der unter den gewöhnlichen Unterrichtsbegriffen vertrocknet. Nun, welche Gefahr da vorliegt, dessen kann sich insbesondere der anthroposophische Lehrer bewußt werden. Denn, wenn die Geschichtsauffassung des gewöhnlichen Lehrers nach und nach diejenige des Lehrbuches wird, und das wird sie ja nach ein paar Jahren, wenn er unterrichtet, wo soll er denn eine Geschichtsauffassung hernehmen, wo soll er menschheitliche Ideen hernehmen? Wie kann es da also anders sein? Und die Zeit, die er dann neben dem Unterricht noch hat, verbringt er so, daß er sich erholt. Aber die großen Weltfragen spielen dann manchmal nur in einem höchst kirchturmartigen Politischen eine Rolle. Das seelische Leben aber dringt dabei nicht hinaus in die Auffassung, die man haben muß, wenn man ein Mensch von 30 oder 40 Jahren ist. Und man erhält sich nicht frisch und lebendig, wenn man glaubt, in den Erholungsstunden am besten Karten zu spielen, oder etwas zu tun, was gar nicht mit dem geistigen Leben zusammenhängt.

Beim anthroposophischen Lehrer ist das der Fall, daß er nun in der Anthroposophie drinnensteht, weil ihm von da aus eine Weltperspektive immer weiter und weiter gezeichnet wird, so daß er, indem er in der Anthroposophie drinnensteht, seinen Gesichtskreis immer erweitert bekommt. Wie diese Dinge aufeinander wirken, zeigt sich sehr leicht. Es zeigt sich dadurch, daß der begeistertste Anthroposoph, wenn er zum Beispiel Geschichtslehrer wird, sofort in die Tendenz verfällt, nun in die Geschichtsauffassung Anthroposophie hineinzutragen und eigentlich statt Geschichte Anthroposophie lehren will. Das ist auch wiederum etwas, was man versuchen muß zu vermeiden. Es wird durchaus vermieden, wenn der, der auf der einen Seite seine Kinder, auf der andern die Anthroposophie hat, nun auch noch genötigt ist, von der Schule dann Brücken hinüberzuschlagen zum Elternhaus. Wenn Anthroposophie auch angewandte Menschenerkenntnis und angewandtes Menschenverständnis wird: man muß Notwendigkeiten im Leben einsehen.

Wie denkt man heute oftmals gerade unter dem Einfluß von Reformgedanken, ja von Revolutionsgedanken über das Erziehungswesen? Ich will jetzt gar nicht auf das eingehen, was man in sozialistischen Kreisen sagt, sondern auf das, was in gutbürgerlichen Kreisen darüber gedacht wird. Da ist der Gedanke entstanden, man müsse hinaus aus der Stadt, aufs Land, um dort, abgesondert von der Stadt, eine Schar Kinder zu erziehen; nur dort könnten sie sich natürlich entwikkeln und so weiter. Aber wie steht denn ein solcher Gedanke in einer Gesamtweltauffassung drinnen? Doch eigentlich so, daß man seine eigene Ohnmacht erkennt. Denn es handelt sich nicht darum, etwas auszudenken, wie man fern von aller Welt eine Anzahl Kinder nach seinem Kopfe entwickeln kann, sondern wie man mitten drinnen im sozialen Milieu, wo man steht, die Kinder Mensch sein lassen kann. Man muß also die Stärke aufbringen, den Kindern dieses Leben nicht zu nehmen, wenn sie nun doch einmal in ihrem sozialen Milieu drinnenstehen. Diesen Mut muß man durchaus haben. Das ist etwas, was mit der Weltbedeutung der Pädagogik zusammenhängt.

Aber dann muß man tief davon überzeugt sein, daß Welt in die Schule hineinragen muß. Welt muß es sein, die in der Schule auf kindhafte Weise weiterlebt. Daher werden wir nicht versuchen, wenn wir auf dem Boden einer gesunden Pädagogik stehen, allerlei Arbeiten auszudenken, die nur für die Kinder sein sollen. So sollen die Kinder zum Beispiel flechten, sollen allerlei Zeug ausführen, was ja doch nicht im Leben drinnensteht, was man bloß für die Kinder aussinnt, damit man sie beschäftigt. Das kann niemals in einer guten Weise in die Entwikkelung des Kindes eingreifen. Sondern, was man in der Schule als Spiele treibt, muß ein unmittelbares Abbild des Lebens sein. Alles muß aus dem Leben heraus sein, nichts soll ausgedacht sein. Daher sind — so guten Willen man auch darin findet -— diejenigen Dinge, die etwa durch Fröbel oder andere in die Erziehung der kleinen Kinder gekommen sind, nicht in der wirklichen Entwickelung der Kinder gelegen, sondern sie sind aus unserem rationalistischen Zeitalter heraus ausgedacht. Und nichts Ausgedachtes sollte in der Schule wirken.

Vor allem muß ein geheimes Gefühl dafür vorhanden sein, daß überall das Leben in die Erziehung hineinragt. In dieser Beziehung kann man ganz merkwürdige Erfahrungen machen. Ich habe Ihnen davon gesprochen, daß man dem Kinde, das eben den Zahnwechsel durchgemacht hat, malend oder zeichnend den Weg zum Schreiben ebnen soll. Das Schreiben, das ein abstrakt gewordenes Zeichnen ist, soll sich aus dem malenden Zeichnen oder dem zeichnenden Malen heraus entwickeln. Aber man soll dabei wirklich berücksichtigen, daß das Kind ein ästhetisch empfindendes Wesen ist, daß in ihm ein richtiger kleiner Künstler steckt. Nun kann man eine Erfahrung machen, die ganz interessant ist. Man kann einen ganz guten Lehrer in die Klasse hineinstellen, der sich für die Dinge, die ich jetzt auseinandergesetzt habe, ganz gut einsetzt, der begeistert dafür ist, der da sagt: Man muß alle früheren Erziehungsmethoden einfach wegschaffen und muß in dieser Weise erziehen! — Jetzt beginnt die Sache mit dem malenden Zeichnen oder zeichnenden Malen. Die Farbtöpfe und die Pinsel sind da, und die Kinder nehmen die Pinsel in die Hand. Jetzt kann man die Erfahrung machen: der Lehrer begreift lange nicht, was eine leuchtende und eine nicht leuchtende Farbe ist! Er ist schon zu alt geworden dazu. Das Kind aber kommt ungeheuer leicht dahinter; es hat eine wunderbare Beweglichkeit, diesen Unterschied zwischen einer leuchtenden und nicht leuchtenden Farbe zu verstehen. Darüber kann man die merkwürdigsten Erfahrungen machen. Ich habe einmal Gelegenheit gehabt, einem ausgezeichneten Chemiker zu erzählen, daß wir bestrebt waren, im Goetheanum die Malereien mit leuchtenden Farben herzustellen, und zwar durch Pflanzenfarben. Da sagte der Betreffende: Aber das können wir ja heute schon viel besser machen; wir haben ja heute schon die Mittel, um Farben herzustellen, die, wenn es dunkel wird, anfangen zu schillern. — Der Betreffende verstand gar nicht, was man sagte, er dachte es gleich chemisch. Die Erwachsenen haben heute oft keinen Sinn für eine leuchtende Farbe. Die Kinder haben ihn. Es geht alles wunderbar, mit wenigen Worten, wenn man nur aus der kindlichen Natur abliest, was das Kind schon hat. Aber die Anleitung muß verständnisvoll sein, muß selber künstlerischen Sinn haben; dann kommt das Kind leicht in alles hinein, wo hinein man es bringen will.

Aber es kommt das alles nur dann zustande, wenn man ein tiefes Gefühl dafür hat, daß die Schule das junge Leben ist; das alte Leben muß man dann kennen. Daher muß man eine Empfindung dafür haben, was man tun kann und was nicht. — Es möge mir niemand übelnehmen, was ich sagen werde. Es ist mir zum Beispiel auf dem Gebiete der anthroposophischen Pädagogik im vorigen Jahre passiert, daß gezeigt werden sollte vor der Öffentlichkeit, was in unsere Pädagogik so tief hineingestellt ist: Eurythmie. Sie wurde gezeigt, aber folgendes wurde gemacht: An einem Orte wurden zuerst Kinder vorgeführt mit dem, was sie in der Schule an Eurythmie gelernt haben; und nachher erst wurde eine künstlerische Eurythmievorstellung veranstaltet. Es wurde also nicht gezeigt: Das ist Eurythmie - so daß sich die Leute erst das Verständnis erworben hatten: Also das ist Eurythmie, und so wird sie in die Schule hineingebracht. — Sondern dadurch, daß man zuerst die Kindereurythmie vorausschickte, stand diese so da, daß man überhaupt nicht wußte: Warum denn? —- Stellen Sie sich vor, es hätte keine Malerei gegeben, und man würde auf einmal damit beginnen, zu zeigen, was die Kinder mit Farben anfangen zu schmieren. Ebensowenig konnten die, welche nicht in der anthroposophischen Bewegung stehen, in der Kindervorstellung sehen, was man mit der Anthroposophie und der Eurythmie will. So etwas hat nur eine Bedeutung, wenn Eurythmie zuerst als Kunst vorgeführt wird, weil man daran sieht, so steht sie im Leben und diese Bedeutung hat sie im Künstlerischen. Dann wird man auch die Bedeutung der Eurythmie für die Schule erkennen. Andernfalls wird man sagen: Man hat heute viele Marotten im Leben — und man wird die Eurythmie auch als eine solche Marotte ansehen.

Das sind die Dinge, die dazu führen müssen, nicht nur wiederum im alten Sinne kleingeistig in der Pädagogik vorzuarbeiten, sondern ein wenig großgeistig zu arbeiten, die Schule anzuschließen an das Leben, nicht sie herauszustellen aus dem Leben. Das ist ebenso wichtig, als irgendeine sehr gescheite Methode über Erziehung auszudenken. Denn immer wieder muß ich betonen: auf Gesinnung kommt es an und auf Einsicht. Gewiß, daß nicht alles gleich vollkommen sein kann, muß auch wieder verstanden werden; ich bitte also durchaus, mir nicht übelzunehmen, was ich jetzt gesagt habe, auch nicht auf anthroposophischer Seite. Ich anerkenne alles, was, wie hier, mit solcher Opferwilligkeit getan wird. Aber wenn man es nicht in solcher Weise besprechen würde, dann könnte folgendes sein: Weil dort, wo starkes Licht ist, auch starke Schatten sind, so würden dort, wo man sich bemüht, die Dinge zu vergeistigen, auch die schlimmsten Schatten entstehen. Da ist die Gefahr nämlich nicht kleiner als im gewöhnlichen Philisterium, sondern größer. Und das haben wir überhaupt nötig, wenn wir dem gewachsen sein wollen, was immer komplizierter und komplizierter im Leben an uns herankommt, daß wir wachsam und aufmerksam werden auf das, was das Leben vom Menschen verlangt. Wir haben heute nicht mehr jene deutlichen Traditionen, welche die frühere Menschheit weitergeführt hat. Wir können uns nicht mehr begnügen mit dem, was die Vorväter für richtig befunden haben; wir müssen unsere Kinder zu eigenem Urteil heranerziehen können. Dazu müssen wir unsere Begriffe aus derjenigen Engheit, die sie angenommen haben, herausführen, und müssen drinnenstehen im ganzen lebendigen Leben und Weben der Welt. Wir dürfen also nicht wieder, wie man es früher getan hat, dazu kommen, einfache Begriffe zu finden, mit denen man weite Gebiete des Lebens erklären will. Die meisten Dinge auf diesem Gebiete werden ja doch so gemacht, daß man, wenn man auch nicht pedantisch sein will, mit glatten Begriffen die Dinge zu charakterisieren versucht so, wie es einmal in einer griechischen Philosophenschule gegangen ist, wo man erklären sollte, was ein Mensch ist. Da kam nämlich die Erklärung zustande: Ein Mensch ist ein lebendiges Wesen, das auf zwei Beinen steht und keine Federn hat. — Manche Definitionen, die heute gegeben werden, sind ganz nach diesem Muster. Und am nächsten Tage, nachdem jemand scharf nachgedacht hatte, was in diesem verhängnisvollen Wort steht, brachte er eine gerupfte Gans mit; denn das war ein Wesen, das auf zwei Beinen steht und keine Federn hat, und nun hatte er gemeint, das sei ein Mensch. Das ist nur der radikale Fall von dem, was Sie zum Beispiel bei Goethe angeführt finden, wo der kleine Junge im «Götz von Berlichingen» anfängt, Geographie zu erzählen, und wo er auf seinen Heimatort kommt: er beschreibt diesen aus dem Lehrbuche, beschreibt dann einen Menschen, der sich in diesem Heimatort entwickelt, und hat keine Ahnung, daß dies sein Vater ist; er kennt also vor lauter Gelehrsamkeit seinen eigenen Vater nicht, denn er hat es aus dem Buche gelernt. — Die Dinge gehen ja noch nicht so weit, wie ich es einmal in Weimar erlebt habe, wo ja auch Zeitungen erscheinen; aber sie werden eben so gemacht, wie es an kleinen Orten gewöhnlich geschieht: man nimmt die Zeitungen aus größeren Orten, nimmt dann die Schere und schneidet die Nachrichten heraus, die man in seinem eigenen Blatt bringen will. So lasen wir einmal in Weimar am 22. Januar eine Notiz: Gestern ging über unsere Stadt ein heftiges Gewitter nieder. — Es war aber eine Notiz, die aus den «Leipziger Nachrichten» übernommen war.

Dergleichen geschieht im Leben, und wir sind ja immer von solchen Dingen umsponnen. Man theoretisiert in abstrakten Begriffen. Man treibt zum Beispiel Relativitätstheorie und kommt dabei zu der Ansicht, daß es gleich ist, ob man sich in einem Automobil nach Osterbeek begibt oder ob Osterbeek einem entgegenkommt. Wenn aber jemand einen Wirklichkeitsschluß ziehen würde, so müßte er sagen: Wenn das Automobil in Ruhe ist, dann nutzt es sich nicht ab und der Chauffeur wird nicht müde; im andern Falle findet das Gegenteil statt. Wenn jemand so denkt, dann wird er, ohne jede Linie und Bewegung zu vergleichen, aus dem Innern heraus erkennen, was sein eigenes Wesen dadurch verändert, daß es in Bewegung ist und nicht in Ruhe. Bei der heute üblichen Denkungsart ist es kein Wunder, daß man eine Relativitätstheorie herausbekommt, wenn man den Blick auf das wendet, was «an sich» ist. Geht man aber auf die Wirklichkeit zurück, dann wird man sehen, daß es nicht stimmt mit dem, was man aus den bloßen Relationen sich ausdenkt. Wir leben heute, ob wir gelehrt oder gescheit sind, fortwährend eigentlich über der Wirklichkeit; wir leben in Vorstellungen, die wir uns gemacht haben, ähnlich wie der kleine Junge im «Goetz von Berlichingen», der seinen Vater nicht kennt, trotzdem er ihn im Lehrbuche beschrieben hat. Wir leben nicht in der unmittelbaren Wirklichkeit.

Das müssen wir aber in die Schule hineinbringen: der unmittelbaren Wirklichkeit gegenüberzustehen. Das können wir, wenn wir vor allen Dingen den Menschen und den ganzen Zusammenhang des Menschen wirklich erkennen. Deshalb muß ich immer wieder und wieder sagen, man kann leicht den Satz aufstellen, an das Kind dürfe nur dasjenige als sogenannter Anschauungsunterricht herangebracht werden, was das Kind schon verstehen kann. Aber dabei kommen furchtbare Trivialitäten zustande. Ich habe schon die Rechenmaschine erwähnt. Bedenken Sie aber einmal das Folgende: Ich nehme mit 8 Jahren etwas an, verstehe es gar nicht; ich weiß nichts anderes, als daß es der Lehrer eben sagt. Aber ich liebe den Lehrer. Der ist für mich eine selbstverständliche Autorität. Weil der es gesagt hat, deshalb nehme ich es an und präge es mir tief ins Herz hinein. Ich verstehe es auch noch nicht mit 15 Jahren. Aber mit 35 Jahren bringt das Leben etwas an mich heran, was wie aus wunderbaren Geistestiefen eben das heraufbringt, was ich damals mit 8 Jahren nicht begriffen habe, was ich nur auf die Autorität des geliebten Lehrers hin angenommen habe, und weil dieser die Autorität für mich war, deshalb mußte es wahr sein. Jetzt bringt das Leben etwas an mich heran, und da geht etwas mir blitzartig auf — und jetzt verstehe ich jenes frühere Erlebnis. Die ganze Zeit über hat es in einem gesessen, und jetzt bringt das Leben die Möglichkeit, es zu verstehen. Das ist für den Menschen etwas ungeheuer Verpflichtendes. Und eigentlich müßte man sagen: Wehe dem Menschen, der nicht die Augenblicke haben kann, wo aus seinem eigenen Innern das heraufkommt, was er früher auf Autorität hin angenommen hat und jetzt erst verstehen kann! — Man soll eben dem Menschen nicht das entziehen, was später enthusiasmierend aus dem eigenen Innern herauf in das Leben eingreifen kann.

Aber noch etwas. Ich sagte, man soll den Kindern zwischen dem Zahnwechsel und der Geschlechtsreife nicht Moralgebote geben, sondern man soll dafür sorgen, daß ihnen das Gute deswegen gefällt, weil es dem Lehrer gefällt, und daß ihnen das Schlechte mißfällt, weil es dem Lehrer mißfällt. Auf Sympathie mit dem Guten, Antipathie mit dem Bösen soll für die zweite Lebensperiode alles gebaut sein. Dann sitzen die moralischen Gefühle tief in der Seele; dann ist vorhanden moralisches Wohlgefallen mit dem Guten, moralisches Mißfallen mit dem Schlechten. — Jetzt kommt die Geschlechtsreife heran. Wie in den ersten 7 Lebensjahren das Gehen, in den zweiten 7 Jahren die Sprache, so wächst jetzt mit der Geschlechtsreife in den dritten 7 Lebensjahren das Denken zu seiner vollen Bedeutung aus. Es wird selbständig. Das wird es eigentlich erst mit der Geschlechtsreife; da werden wir erst richtig urteilsfähig. Haben wir nun in dem Zeitpunkte, wo wir anfangen, uns aus innerlichem Drang heraus Gedanken zu machen, in der angedeuteten Weise Gefühle in uns, dann haben wir für das Gedankenleben eine gute Grundlage, und dann bilden wir selbst das Urteil aus: Dies hat mir ja gefallen, dazu bin ich pflichtgebunden, jenes hat mir mißfallen, und meine Pflicht ist es, das zu unterlassen. — Und es ist das Bedeutsame, daß dies eintritt, daß die Pflicht selbst herauswächst aus Gefallen und Mißfallen, daß Pflicht nicht eingeimpft wird, sondern eben aus Gefallen und Mißfallen herauswächst. Denn das ist der Aufgang der wahren Freiheit in der Menschenseele. Darin erlebt man die Freiheit, daß das Moralische der tiefste eigene Impuls der individuellen Menschenseele ist. Hat man das Kind in selbstverständlicher Autorität an das Moralische herangeführt, so daß das Moralische für es in der Gefühlswelt lebt, dann arbeitet sich die Pflicht nach der Geschlechtsreife aus dem eigenen Innern des Menschen heraus. Das ist das Gesunde: Da führen wir die Kinder in der rechten Weise hin zu dem, was individuelles Freiheitserlebnis ist. -— Warum haben das die Menschen heute nicht? Sie haben es nicht, weil sie es nicht haben können, weil ihnen vor der Geschlechtsreife eingeimpft wird, was gut und böse ist, was sie tun oder lassen sollen. Aber ein Moralunterricht, der nicht die richtige Stufenfolge berücksichtigt, verödet den Menschen, macht ihn so, als ob in ihm ein Skelett von Moralgeboten wäre und daran aufgehängt die verschiedenen Lebensverrichtungen wie Kleider an einem Kleiderständer.

Soll das alles einheitlich im Leben sein, so muß ein ganz anderer Gang in der Erziehung vor sich gehen. Man muß wissen, wie das Kind ein anderes ist von der Geburt bis zum Zahnwechsel, ein anderes zwischen Zahnwechsel und Geschlechtsreife und ein anderes zwischen Geschlechtsreife und dem 21. Lebensjahr. Warum tut das Kind etwas in der Zeit bis zum 7. Lebensjahr? Weil es nachahmen will. Da will es das tun, was seine Umgebung macht. Das muß aber auch Leben haben, muß in lebendige Regsamkeit übergehen können. Dazu kann man nun sehr viel tun, wenn man das Kind daran gewöhnt, das, was es von der Umgebung empfängt, in Dankbarkeit zu empfinden. Dankbarkeit ist die Grundtugend des Kindes von der Geburt bis zum Zahnwechseel. Wenn es jedem, der in der Außenwelt zu ihm in irgendeiner Beziehung steht, so gegenüberstehen kann, daß es an ihm sieht, wie er in Dankbarkeit dem entgegenkommt, was er von der Außenwelt empfängt; wenn das Kind gegenüber allem, was es an der Außenwelt empfindet und was es nachahmen will, solche Gebärden sieht, die in der Richtung der Dankbarkeit gehen, dann tut man sehr viel zum richtigen moralischen Halt des Menschen. Dankbarkeit ist das, was in die ersten 7 Lebensjahre hineingehört.

Hat man so in der ersten Lebensperiode im Kinde die Dankbarkeit entwickelt, dann entwickelt man leicht das, was nun zwischen dem 7. und 14. Jahre alles Handeln beherrschen muß: die Liebe. Das ist die Tugend für das zweite Lebensalter. Und nach der Geschlechtsreife entwickelt sich aus dem, was man zwischen Zahnwechsel und Geschlechtsreife in Liebe erlebt hat, als der innerste der menschlichen Impulse erst die Pflicht. Und dann wird Richtschnur für das Leben das, was Goethe einmal so schön hingestellt hat, wo er fragt: Was ist Pflicht? «Wo man liebt, was man sich selbst befiehlt.» Dazu müssen wir gebracht werden. Wir werden aber nur dazu gebracht, wenn die Stufenfolge vorhanden ist: Dankbarkeit — Liebe - Pflicht.

Wir haben vor einigen Tagen gesehen, wie Dinge aus einer früheren Lebensepoche in die späteren hinüberragen. Auf eine Frage hin habe ich über die Dinge gesprochen. Jetzt möchte ich darauf aufmerksam machen, daß das auch sein Gutes hat, daß es dasein muß. Es ist nicht etwa gemeint, daß nun die Dankbarkeit mit dem 7. Jahre oder die Liebe mit dem 14. aufhören soll. Aber das ist ja gerade das Geheimnis des Lebens, was sich in einer Epoche entwickelt, das kann metamorphosiert, gesteigert und verändert sich in die späteren Epochen hinüberleben. Und wir würden das Gute einer Epoche in die späteren Epochen nicht hinüberleben können, wenn nicht auch die Möglichkeit bestände, das Schlechte hinüberzuleben. Nur muß die Erziehung dafür sorgen, daß die Kraft, die im Menschen ist, um etwas aus einer früheren in eine spätere Epoche hinüberzuleben, für das Gute verwendet wird. Dann müssen wir aber dazu das anwenden, was ich gestern sagte. Bei einem Kinde ist zum Beispiel durch pathologische Untergründe die Möglichkeit vorhanden, daß es später im Leben moralisch schwach wird. Wir sehen, es gefällt ihm nicht recht das Gute, es mißfällt ihm nicht recht das Schlechte; es will nicht recht vorwärtskommen. Dann versuchen wir das zu verwerten, was in jeder Menschennatur liegt, wir versuchen, weil es die Liebe zwischen dem 7. und dem 14. Jahre nicht recht entwickeln kann, es erst recht auf die Dankbarkeit hin zu entwickeln, recht viel Dankbarkeit gegenüber der selbstverständlichen Autorität herauf zu erziehen; dann bessert sich die Sache auch mit der Liebe. Kennt man die Dinge in der menschlichen Natur, dann geht man gar nicht so vor, daß man sagt: Dem Kinde fehlt die Liebe für das Gute, die Antipathie für das Böse; ich muß ihm das eintrichtern! — Das kann man nicht. Aber die Sache kommt von selbst, wenn man dann die Dankbarkeit entwickelt. Daher muß man wissen, was in der moralischen Lebensentfaltung die Dankbarkeit gegenüber der Liebe für eine Rolle spielt, daß Dankbarkeit in den ersten Lebensjahren eine selbstverständliche Folge der menschlichen Natur ist, und daß Liebe dasjenige ist, was in der ganzen menschlichen Organisation seelisch tätig ist, bevor es sich äußerlich-körperlich in der Geschlechtsreife auslebt. Denn was sich dann draußen geltend macht, ist ja zwischen dem 7. und 14. Lebensjahr tiefstes Wachstums- und Wesensprinzip des Menschen; es west und lebt ja im Innern. Da ist es tatsächlich so, das darf ich wohl hier sagen, wo diese Dinge aus den Grundlagen heraus besprochen werden sollen: Wenn der Lehrer einmal eingesehen hat, was eine Pädagogik ist, die auf wirklicher Menschenerkenntnis fußt, wenn er auf der einen Seite drinnensteht in einem solchen pädagogischen Wirken, und wenn er auf der andern Seite drinnensteht in der Pflege der anthroposophischen Weltanschauung, dann wirkt das eine auf das andere. Denn der Lehrer muß in der Schule so wirken, daß er voraussetzen muß: die Liebe wirkt innerlich in dem Kinde, die dann äußerliche Liebe wird in der Sexualität.

Der anthroposophische Pädagoge kommt dann an diejenige Stätte, wo seine Weltanschauung, die Anthroposophie gepflegt wird. Er hört hier von denen, die so etwas schon wissen können aus der Initiationsweisheit heraus: der Mensch besteht aus physischem Leib, ätherischem Leib, astralischem Leib und Ich; zwischen dem 7. und 14. Jahre arbeitet am physischen Leib vorzugsweise der ätherische Leib; der astralische Leib taucht in den physischen Leib und ätherischen Leib unter, wenn die Geschlechtsreife eintritt. Aber wer diese Dinge durchschaut, wer eben immer bei dem, was er wahrnimmt, ein Mehreres, das Geistige außer dem Physischen wahrnimmt und, wenn es getrennt wirkt, auch getrennt wahrnehmen kann, der vernimmt schon vom 11., 12. Lebensjahre ab beim Knaben, wie im Astralischen mittönt der tiefere Ton, der dann erst herauskommt bei der Geschlechtsreife. Im Astralischen klingt schon unten dieser Ton mit. Und ebenso tritt die den Menschen geschlechtsreifmachende Eigentümlichkeit auch beim weiblichen Geschlecht schon im 11., 12. Lebensjahre im astralischen Leib auf.

Diese Dinge sind da, und nimmt man sie real, dann verbreiten sie Licht über das Leben. Da kann man wirklich ganz besondere Erfahrungen machen. Ich möchte mit solchen Erfahrungen nicht zurückhalten. Im Jahre 1906 hielt ich in Paris für einen verhältnismäßig kleinen Kreis eine Anzahl Vorträge über Anthroposophie. Ich hatte aber diesem Kreise gemäß meine Vorträge eingerichtet, und zwar mit Rücksicht darauf sie gehalten, daß in diesem Kreise Literaten waren, Schriftsteller, Künstler und andere, die ganz besondere Fragen in diesem Zeitalter hatten. Seither ist es ja wieder anders geworden; damals aber war so etwas in den Fragen, für die sich der Mensch interessierte, der Mensch, der also frühmorgens aufsteht und die Ansicht hat, ich gehöre der Gesellschaft an, die sich für Literaturgeschichte, für die Geschichte des Künstlerischen und so weiter interessiert; wenn man dieser Gesellschaft angehört, trägt man eine Krawatte von dieser Form, und seit dem und dem Jahre geht man zu den Tees nicht mehr im Frack oder Smoking. Das weiß man, wenn dann beim Diner dieses und ähnliches besprochen wird. Abends geht man dann ins Theater zu denjenigen Stücken, die mit dem Zeitproblem zusammenhängen; die sogenannten Dichter machen dann auch solche Stücke. Zuerst ist es ein Mensch mit tiefem innerem Sinn, aus dessen Herzen in aufrichtiger, ehrlicher Weise die großen Probleme herauswachsen: es ist zuerst ein Strindberg. Nachher kommen dann die, welche einen Strindberg für das größere Publikum popularisieren. Und so wurde, als ich diese Pariser Vorträge hielt, jenes Problem viel besprochen, das kurz vorher den tragisch zu nehmenden Weininger in den Selbstmord getrieben hatte. Das Problem, das bei Weininger in «Geschlecht und Charakter» in so kindlich großartiger Weise zum Vorschein kommt, war Tagesproblem. Nachdem ich die Dinge, die dafür zum Verständnis notwendig waren, erörtert hatte, führte ich aus, daß ja bei jedem Menschen ein Geschlecht vorliegt im äußeren physischen Leibe, daß er aber das andere Geschlecht in seinem ätherischen Leibe an sich trägt; so daß man also davon sprechen muß: die Frau ist Mann in bezug auf den ätherischen Leib, und umgekehrt ist der Mann in seinem ätherischen Leib Weib. Daher ist der Mensch, wenn man ihn in seiner Totalität nimmt, zweigeschlechtig; er trägt das andere Geschlecht in sich. - Da ich nun wirklich in die Möglichkeit versetzt bin, zu beobachten, wie dann die Menschen, wenn so etwas gesagt wird, aus ihren astralischen Leibern heraus anfangen zu schauen, wie sie plötzlich fühlen, daß sich ein Problem ihnen gelöst hat, an dem sie lange gekaut haben, dann sieht man so etwas von plötzlichem Unruhigwerden - aber in angenehmer Weise Unruhigwerden auf dem Stuhle. Wo die großen Probleme da sind, nicht die geringfügigen Lebensempfindungen bloß, sondern wo wirklich ein, wenn auch oftmals nur «Smoking»-Enthusiasmus da ist, da sieht man dann doch wieder, wie Erlösungen aus dem Menschen herauskommen.

So sieht der anthroposophische Lehrer dann immer auf die großen Probleme hin als auf das, was ihn wiederum so machen kann, daß er menschlich bleibt in jedem Lebensalter, daß, wenn er in die Schule hineintritt, nicht vertrocknet, was ihn frisch und lebendig erhält. Es ist eben etwas ganz anderes, ob man immer nur das vor sich hat, was in den Schulbüchern steht und es den Kindern beibringt, oder man aus dem heraustritt und nun als Mensch den großen Weltperspektiven gegenübersteht. Da trägt man das, was man in sich selber aufnimmt, in die Atmosphäre hinein, mit der man die Klasse beim Unterricht betritt.

Sixth lecture

In addition to what I said yesterday about teachers' conferences, the soul of the school, I would like to add today, before I proceed to the purely methodological discussion, that we must attach the utmost importance to being in complete harmony with the parents of our Waldorf school children by organizing parent-teacher conferences at relatively short intervals, which are then attended by the parents of the children who are present in the locality, with whom the school's intentions, methods, and facilities are discussed—naturally, in general, before the parents' meeting, whose wishes are then also taken into account, insofar as they can be expressed in a meeting. This gives us the opportunity to really work out what is to be achieved educationally from the whole social milieu from which it actually originates. As a teacher, you hear what parents imagine about the education of their children; and parents hear – we always speak with great honesty and openness – what is going on at school, how we think about the education and future of the children, and how we think it is necessary to have such free educational institutions. In short, we are not only in abstract agreement with the parents, but we also maintain constant contact with them. We must therefore attach great importance to this, because we have no other support. In a state school, everything is calculated. There, you know with great certainty what your teaching goals must be; you know that a child of 9, for example, must have reached a certain level, and so on. Everything is precisely defined.

In our school, everything is subject to the free individuality of each teacher. As far as I am concerned, the management does not issue any directives or instructions. We have no management at all in the school; instead, each teacher is, in a sense, sovereign. What we do instead of management is study and progress through the teachers' conferences themselves. This is a spirit that lives as a concrete spirit among the teaching staff, which also works freely, which is not tyrannical, which does not give sentences, regulations, or programs, but which wants to continually progress, continually improve the facilities and also the course of study. Our teachers today cannot possibly know what will be good for the Waldorf school in five years' time, because they will have learned a great deal in those five years, and then they will have to judge what is good and what is not good. That is why it is so infinitely irrelevant to what is done in Waldorf schools what educational reform associations decide would be good for education. Such things cannot be spun out of the mind for education; they can only be worked out. And this learning is what matters to the teaching staff. But because we are in this situation, because we live in a living flow with everything we want, we need a different kind of support than a normal school has in the authority that stands above it and tells it what to do. We need support from the social element from which the children have grown. We need close support from parents in relation to all the questions that constantly arise when a child is at school; and the child is at school because it has left the parental home.

But when individual harmony has been achieved, when the teacher, in relying on the parents, cares even more than the parents themselves for the child's overall development – not just inviting the parents in and giving them information that is of little use, but when the teacher also continues to show interest in the parental home at parents' evenings – then when a child reaches school age, around the age of 7, there is much more to them than one might think: they have their father, mother, and other people from their environment; they stand behind them like shadows. One has to deal with them almost as much as with the child itself, especially in physiological and pathological terms. And the teacher has to work through all of this, has to look at it as a whole in order to really understand the child and, above all, to make what he has to do in the child's environment understandable. And by creating this bridge to the parental home, a kind of social support is also brought about again, but in a free, lively way.

The parental home is also needed so that the parents ensure that the natural authority that the child must have for the teacher is not impaired in any way. A lot of work needs to be done with psychological means of understanding between the teaching staff and the parents. And the parents, in turn, by getting to know the teacher and getting to know them quite well, must completely break the habit of becoming jealous of the teacher. For most parents are jealous of their children's teachers. They feel as if the teacher wants to take their child away from them. But as soon as this happens, there is not much that can be done with the child in terms of education. However, this can be brought into the right situation if the teacher at the same time understands how to get the right support from the parents. — So that is what I have to add to what teacher conferences should be.

But then it is really a matter of understanding those moments in the child's life that are significant transitional moments. I have already mentioned one such moment, when teaching must transition from the previous fairy-tale imagery to the teaching of plant beings, for example. This stage in the child's life occurs between the ages of 9 and 10. At this point, the child displays something like inner restlessness. All kinds of feelings come to the surface that make you wonder: What is going on with this child? The child does not know where it stands; but it has an inner restlessness, it asks all sorts of questions. What it asks is, in terms of content, mostly of no great significance; but the fact that it asks, that it behaves in this way at all, is very significant.

What one does with the child at this point in time in relation to the child is of great significance for the child's whole life. For what is it that resides in the child? And it resides in every child that is not pathological. Until then, a child that has not been corrupted from outside accepts the authority of the teacher quite naturally; for a healthy child, who has not been told all sorts of things to corrupt it, also has a completely healthy respect for every adult. It looks up to them in a naive way, as if they were a natural authority. Just think back to your own childhood and what it means, especially for a very young child, to be able to say to themselves: You can do it like him or her, they are a valuable personality. — After all, one has no other need than to place oneself under an authority.

In a certain sense, this is somewhat shaken between the ages of 9 and 10, simply shaken by the development of human nature itself. One must be able to understand this thoroughly. During this period, human nature comes to feel something very special. This does not come to the child's consciousness; it lives in vague sensations and feelings. The child cannot express it, but it is there. What does the child say to itself, unconsciously? Previously, it said to itself, according to its feelings: what the teacher says is good is good; what he says is bad is bad; what the teacher says is right is right; what the teacher says is wrong is wrong; what the teacher likes and says he likes is beautiful, and what he does not like and says is ugly is ugly. - The educator is the natural norm for the child. At this point, between the ages of 9 and 10, something is shaken internally. The child begins to ask itself, based on its feelings: Where did he or she get that from? Who is the authority for the educator? Where is this authority? — At this moment, an inner urge begins in the child to break through from the visible human being, who until then has been a god for the child, to what lies behind as a supersensible or invisible god or divinity. This must now be proven to the child. One must now approach the child in such a way that it gets the feeling: This person has a connection to the supernatural, to the past; he does not speak arbitrarily from himself, he is a missionary of the divine.

This must be made clear to the child. But how? Certainly not by lecturing. You can only express it, but lecturing is the least effective way. But if you approach the child, perhaps saying something that has no particular meaning in terms of content, if you talk to the child about something that may have no meaning in terms of content, but is spoken in such a tone of voice that they see: This person has a heart, and this heart believes in what lies behind it — then you can achieve something. You have to make the child aware of this inner world, really make them aware of it. The child is already so understanding, even if it does not perceive things in an abstract-rationalistic way, that it comes and asks: Oh, I would like to know... Children of this age ask such questions. If you now say to them: Look, I receive from the sun what I can give you; if there were no sun, I would not be able to give you anything in life; if there were no moon to preserve what we receive from the sun while we sleep, I would not be able to give you anything either" — this does not yet have much meaning in terms of its content; but if you say it with such warmth that the child realizes you love the sun and the moon, then you guide the child through these questions and, in most cases, through life. One must know that these critical moments exist in the life of a child. Then one will naturally feel that, up to that point, one has talked about nature in reference to fir and oak trees, buttercups and dandelions, sunflowers and violets, all kinds of fairy-tale creatures, and thereby led the child into a spiritual world; but now the time has come when you can begin to tell stories from the Gospels. If you start with this, or with catechism-like instructions earlier, you destroy something in the child; but if you start now, when the breakthrough to the spiritual world begins in the child, then you are doing something that the child desires with its whole being.

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, where is the book in which the educator can read what education is? It is the children themselves! One should learn education from no other book than the one that lies open before one, which is the children themselves; but to do so, one needs the most comprehensive interest in each individual child and must not be distracted from it. This presents the educator with difficulties that he must consciously overcome.

Let us now assume that the educator has children of his own. Then he has a more acute and demanding task than if he had no children. They must then become more conscious in this area, and above all, they must not believe that all children should be like their own, not even unconsciously. They must recognize that everyone who has children has the unconscious belief that all children should be like their own. So what one must take on as a teacher goes right into the most intimate threads of the soul. And if these most intimate threads of the soul are not grasped, then one is not really present in the classroom in such a way that one gains full access to the children and thus also their full trust. It is a great, an enormous damage if children can come to believe that others are the teacher's favorites. This must be avoided at all costs. However, it is not as easy to avoid as one might think; but it can be avoided if one applies all those principles in school that can be derived from anthroposophical knowledge of human nature. Then the matter takes care of itself.

And then there is something that is particularly relevant to the theme I have given to this series of lectures — something that is connected with the whole world and human significance of education. It is entirely in the nature of human beings that teachers, who have so much to do with children and who usually have so little opportunity to live outside the school environment, need to connect with the world, that they need to look out into the world. Why do teachers so easily become withered characters? They do so because they always have to lower themselves to the level of the child. One should not really be humorous about the teacher who withers away under the usual teaching concepts. Well, anthroposophical teachers in particular can be aware of the danger that lies here. For if the ordinary teacher's view of history gradually becomes that of the textbook, and it will after a few years of teaching, where is he to get his view of history, where is he to get his ideas about humanity? How could it be otherwise? And the time he has left outside of teaching is spent relaxing. But the great questions of the world then sometimes only play a role in a highly parochial political context. The spiritual life, however, does not penetrate the view that one must have when one is a person of 30 or 40 years of age. And you don't stay fresh and lively if you think the best thing to do in your free time is to play cards or do something that has nothing to do with intellectual life.

In the case of the anthroposophical teacher, he is now inside anthroposophy because from there a world perspective is drawn out further and further, so that by being inside anthroposophy, his horizon is constantly broadened. How these things interact is very easy to see. It can be seen in the fact that the most enthusiastic anthroposophist, if he becomes a history teacher, for example, immediately falls into the tendency to bring anthroposophy into his view of history and actually wants to teach anthroposophy instead of history. This is also something that must be avoided. It is certainly avoided when someone who has their children on the one hand and anthroposophy on the other is then also forced to build bridges between the school and the parental home. Even if anthroposophy becomes applied knowledge and understanding of human beings, one must recognize the necessities of life.

How do people today often think about education, especially under the influence of reformist ideas, even revolutionary ideas? I don't want to go into what is said in socialist circles, but rather what is thought about it in middle-class circles. The idea has arisen that one must leave the city and go to the countryside to educate a group of children there, separated from the city; only there can they develop naturally, and so on. But how does such an idea fit into an overall world view? Actually, it means recognizing one's own powerlessness. For it is not a question of thinking up ways of developing a number of children according to one's own ideas, far away from the rest of the world, but of how to allow children to be human beings in the midst of the social milieu in which one lives. One must therefore summon up the strength not to take this life away from the children once they are in their social milieu. One must have this courage. This is something that is connected with the global significance of education.

But then one must be deeply convinced that the world must extend into the school. It must be the world that lives on in the school in a childlike way. Therefore, if we stand on the ground of sound education, we will not try to think up all kinds of activities that are only for the children. For example, children should not be made to weave or do all sorts of things that have no place in real life, things that are devised solely for children to keep them occupied. This can never have a positive effect on a child's development. Instead, the games played at school must be a direct reflection of life. Everything must come from life; nothing should be invented. Therefore, however well-intentioned they may be, the things that Fröbel and others have introduced into the education of young children are not based on the real development of children, but are invented out of our rationalistic age. And nothing invented should have an effect in school. Above all, there must be a secret feeling that life permeates education everywhere. In this regard, one can have quite remarkable experiences. I have told you that children who have just gone through the process of changing their teeth should be guided towards writing by painting or drawing. Writing, which is drawing that has become abstract, should develop from painting or drawing. But one should really take into account that the child is an aesthetically sensitive being, that there is a real little artist inside him. Now one can have an experience that is quite interesting. You can put a very good teacher in the classroom who is very committed to the things I have just discussed, who is enthusiastic about them, who says: You simply have to do away with all previous methods of education and educate in this way! — Now the matter of painting-drawing or drawing-painting begins. The paint pots and brushes are there, and the children pick up the brushes. Now you can see that the teacher does not understand what a luminous color is and what a non-luminous color is! He has become too old for that. But the child understands it very easily; it has a wonderful ability to understand the difference between a luminous color and a non-luminous color. One can have the strangest experiences with this. I once had the opportunity to tell an excellent chemist that we were endeavoring to produce paintings with luminous colors at the Goetheanum, using plant-based paints. The person in question said: But we can do that much better today; we already have the means to produce colors that begin to shimmer when it gets dark. — The person in question did not understand what was being said at all; he immediately thought in chemical terms. Adults today often have no sense of a luminous color. Children do. Everything works wonderfully, in a few words, if one only reads from the child's nature what the child already has. But the instruction must be understanding, must have artistic sense itself; then the child easily gets into everything you want to bring them into.

But all this only comes about if you have a deep feeling that school is young life; you must then know old life. Therefore, you must have a feeling for what you can and cannot do. — I hope no one will take offense at what I am about to say. For example, in the field of anthroposophical education last year, it was decided to show the public what is so deeply embedded in our education: eurythmy. It was demonstrated, but the following was done: first, children were presented with what they had learned in school in eurythmy; and only afterwards was an artistic eurythmy performance organized. So it was not shown: this is eurythmy — so that people first gained an understanding: so this is eurythmy, and this is how it is brought into the school. Instead, by putting the children's eurythmy first, it was presented in such a way that people had no idea why. Imagine if there had been no painting, and suddenly they started showing what the children were doing with paints. Similarly, those who are not involved in the anthroposophical movement could not see in the children's performance what anthroposophy and eurythmy are all about. Something like this only has meaning if eurythmy is first presented as an art form, because then you can see how it fits into life and what significance it has in the artistic realm. Then you will also recognize the significance of eurythmy for schools. Otherwise, people will say: there are many fads in life today — and they will regard eurythmy as just another fad.

These are the things that must lead us not only to work in education in the old, narrow-minded way, but to work with a little more generosity of spirit, to connect the school to life, not to separate it from life. This is just as important as devising some very clever method of education. For I must emphasize again and again: it is attitude and insight that matter. Of course, it must also be understood that not everything can be perfect right away; so I ask you not to take offense at what I have just said, not even on the anthroposophical side. I appreciate everything that is done here with such a willingness to make sacrifices. But if it were not discussed in this way, the following could happen: because where there is strong light, there are also strong shadows, where people strive to spiritualize things, the worst shadows would also arise. The danger there is no less than in ordinary philistinism, but greater. And we need this if we want to be able to cope with the increasingly complicated things that come our way in life, if we want to be alert and attentive to what life demands of human beings. Today, we no longer have the clear traditions that earlier generations carried on. We can no longer be content with what our forefathers considered right; we must be able to raise our children to form their own judgments. To do this, we must lead our concepts out of the narrowness they have assumed and stand within the whole living life and weaving of the world. We must not, as was done in the past, resort to finding simple concepts with which to explain broad areas of life. Most things in this area are done in such a way that, even if one does not want to be pedantic, one tries to characterize things with smooth concepts, as was once done in a Greek school of philosophy, where one had to explain what a human being is. The explanation that was arrived at was: A human being is a living creature that stands on two legs and has no feathers. Some definitions given today follow this pattern. And the next day, after someone had thought carefully about what this fateful word meant, he brought in a plucked goose, because it was a creature that stood on two legs and had no feathers, and now he thought that was a human being. This is just a radical example of what you find in Goethe, for example, where the little boy in “Götz von Berlichingen” begins to talk about geography and comes to his hometown: he describes it from the textbook, then describes a human being who grows up in this hometown, and has no idea that this is his father; so, despite all his learning, he does not know his own father, because he has learned it from the book. — Things have not yet gone as far as I once experienced in Weimar, where newspapers are also published; but they are made in the same way as is usually the case in small towns: they take the newspapers from larger towns, then take scissors and cut out the news items they want to publish in their own paper. So we once read a note in Weimar on January 22: Yesterday, a violent thunderstorm broke over our city. — But it was a note taken from the “Leipziger Nachrichten.”

Such things happen in life, and we are always surrounded by them. People theorize in abstract terms. For example, they pursue the theory of relativity and come to the conclusion that it makes no difference whether you drive to Osterbeek in a car or whether Osterbeek comes to you. But if someone were to draw a conclusion based on reality, they would have to say: when the car is at rest, it does not wear out and the driver does not get tired; in the other case, the opposite occurs. If someone thinks this way, then without comparing any lines or movements, they will recognize from within what changes their own nature when it is in motion and not at rest. With today's common way of thinking, it is no wonder that one arrives at a theory of relativity when one turns one's gaze to what is “in itself.” But if one returns to reality, one will see that what one imagines from mere relations is not true. Whether we are educated or intelligent, we actually live constantly above reality today; we live in ideas that we have created for ourselves, similar to the little boy in “Goetz von Berlichingen” who does not know his father, even though he has described him in a textbook. We do not live in immediate reality.

But we must bring this into the school: facing immediate reality. We can do this if, above all, we truly recognize the human being and the whole context of the human being. That is why I must say again and again that it is easy to make the statement that children should only be taught what they are already capable of understanding as so-called visual instruction. But this leads to terrible trivialities. I have already mentioned the calculator. But consider the following: at the age of 8, I accept something without understanding it at all; I know nothing other than what the teacher says. But I love the teacher. For me, he is a natural authority. Because he said it, I accept it and engrave it deeply in my heart. I still don't understand it at the age of 15. But at the age of 35, life brings me something that, as if from wonderful depths of the mind, brings up what I did not understand at the age of 8, what I only accepted on the authority of my beloved teacher, and because he was the authority for me, it had to be true. Now life brings something to me, and something dawns on me in a flash — and now I understand that earlier experience. It has been inside me all along, and now life brings the opportunity to understand it. This is something tremendously binding for human beings. And actually, one should say: Woe to the person who cannot have those moments when what he previously accepted on authority comes up from within himself and he can now understand it! — One should not deprive people of what can later enthusiastically intervene in their lives from within themselves.

But there is something else. I said that children between the ages of tooth replacement and sexual maturity should not be given moral commandments, but that care should be taken to ensure that they like what is good because their teacher likes it, and that they dislike what is bad because their teacher dislikes it. Everything in the second period of life should be based on sympathy with what is good and antipathy with what is evil. Then moral feelings are deeply rooted in the soul; then there is moral pleasure with what is good and moral displeasure with what is bad. — Now puberty approaches. Just as walking develops in the first seven years of life and speech in the second seven years, so now, with puberty in the third seven years of life, thinking grows to its full significance. It becomes independent. This actually only happens with sexual maturity; only then do we become truly capable of judgment. If, at the point when we begin to think out of an inner urge, we have feelings within us in the manner indicated, then we have a good foundation for our intellectual life, and then we form our own judgment: I liked this, so I am bound by duty to do it; I disliked that, so it is my duty to refrain from doing it. — And it is significant that this happens, that duty itself grows out of liking and disliking, that duty is not instilled, but grows out of liking and disliking. For this is the dawn of true freedom in the human soul. In this, one experiences freedom, that morality is the deepest impulse of the individual human soul. If the child has been introduced to morality with natural authority, so that morality lives in its emotional world, then duty works its way out of the individual's own inner self after puberty. That is what is healthy: we lead children in the right way to what is the individual experience of freedom. — Why don't people have that today? They do not have it because they cannot have it, because before puberty they are taught what is good and evil, what they should and should not do. But moral instruction that does not take into account the correct sequence of stages desensitizes people, making them as if they had a skeleton of moral commandments inside them, with the various activities of life hanging on it like clothes on a coat rack.

If everything in life is to be uniform, then a completely different approach to education must be taken. One must know how a child is different from birth to the change of teeth, different between the change of teeth and sexual maturity, and different between sexual maturity and the age of 21. Why does a child do something in the period up to the age of 7? Because it wants to imitate. It wants to do what those around it are doing. But this must also have life, it must be able to transform into lively activity. A great deal can be done to achieve this by accustoming the child to feel gratitude for what it receives from its environment. Gratitude is the fundamental virtue of the child from birth to the change of teeth. If it can relate to everyone in the outside world in such a way that it sees how they respond with gratitude to what they receive from the outside world; if the child sees gestures of gratitude in response to everything it perceives in the outside world and wants to imitate, then you are doing a great deal to give the person the right moral foundation. Gratitude is what belongs in the first seven years of life.

Once gratitude has been developed in the child during the first period of life, it is easy to develop what must now govern all actions between the ages of 7 and 14: love. This is the virtue for the second stage of life. And after puberty, what one has experienced in love between the change of teeth and puberty develops first into duty as the innermost of human impulses. And then the guiding principle for life becomes what Goethe once so beautifully put it when he asked: What is duty? “Where one loves what one commands oneself.” We must be led to this. But we will only be led to this if the sequence of stages is present: gratitude — love — duty.

A few days ago, we saw how things from an earlier period of life carry over into later ones. In response to a question, I spoke about these things. Now I would like to point out that this also has its good side, that it must exist. This does not mean that gratitude should cease at the age of 7 or love at the age of 14. But that is precisely the mystery of life: what develops in one epoch can be metamorphosed, intensified, and transformed as it lives on into later epochs. And we would not be able to carry the good of one epoch over into later epochs if there were not also the possibility of carrying over the bad. But education must ensure that the power that is in human beings to carry something over from an earlier epoch into a later one is used for good. But then we must apply what I said yesterday. In a child, for example, pathological factors may mean that they become morally weak later in life. We see that they do not really like what is good, they do not really dislike what is bad; they do not really want to progress. Then we try to make use of what lies in every human nature; we try, because it cannot really develop love between the ages of 7 and 14, to develop gratitude instead, to cultivate a great deal of gratitude towards the authority that is taken for granted; then things also improve with love. If you know the things that are in human nature, you don't go about it by saying: The child lacks love for the good, antipathy for the bad; I must drum that into him! — You can't do that. But the matter comes about by itself when one develops gratitude. Therefore, one must know what role gratitude toward love plays in moral development, that gratitude in the first years of life is a natural consequence of human nature, and that love is what is spiritually active in the entire human organism before it is expressed externally and physically in sexual maturity. For what then manifests itself outwardly is, between the ages of 7 and 14, the deepest principle of human growth and being; it lives and breathes within. It is indeed the case, and I may well say so here, where these things are to be discussed from their foundations: Once the teacher has understood what pedagogy based on real knowledge of the human being is, once he is involved in such pedagogical work on the one hand and in cultivating the anthroposophical worldview on the other, then the one influences the other. For the teacher must work in the school in such a way that he must assume that love works inwardly in the child, which then becomes outward love in sexuality.

The anthroposophical educator then comes to the place where his worldview, anthroposophy, is cultivated. Here he hears from those who already know such things from the wisdom of initiation: the human being consists of a physical body, an etheric body, an astral body, and the I; between the ages of 7 and 14, the etheric body works primarily on the physical body; the astral body submerges into the physical body and etheric body when sexual maturity begins. But those who understand these things, who always perceive something more than the physical in what they perceive, namely the spiritual, and who, when it acts separately, can also perceive it separately, will already notice from the age of 11 or 12 in boys how the deeper tone resonates in the astral body, which only emerges at puberty. This tone already resonates in the astral realm. And likewise, the characteristic that makes humans sexually mature also appears in the astral body of the female sex as early as the 11th or 12th year of life.

These things exist, and if one takes them seriously, they shed light on life. One can have truly special experiences. I do not want to hold back such experiences. In 1906, I gave a number of lectures on anthroposophy to a relatively small circle in Paris. However, I had tailored my lectures to this circle, taking into account that there were literary figures, writers, artists, and others in this circle who had very special questions in this age. Since then, things have changed again; but at that time, the questions that interested people were those that interested people who got up early in the morning and believed that they belonged to a society interested in literary history, the history of art, and so on. If you belonged to this society, you wore a tie of a certain style, and since a certain year, you no longer wore a tailcoat or tuxedo to tea parties. You know this when this and similar topics are discussed at dinner. In the evening, you go to the theater to see plays that deal with contemporary issues; the so-called poets also write such plays. First, there is a person with a deep inner meaning, from whose heart the great problems grow in a sincere, honest way: first, there is Strindberg. Afterwards come those who popularize Strindberg for the wider audience. And so, when I gave these lectures in Paris, there was much discussion of the problem that had recently driven the tragic Weininger to suicide. The problem, which Weininger reveals in such a childishly magnificent way in “Sex and Character,” was the problem of the day. After discussing the things necessary for understanding this, I explained that every human being has one sex in their outer physical body, but that they also carry the other sex in their etheric body; so that one must say: the woman is a man in relation to the etheric body, and conversely, the man is a woman in his etheric body. Therefore, when taken in their totality, human beings are dual-sexed; they carry the other sex within themselves. Since I am now truly in a position to observe how people, when something like this is said, begin to look out of their astral bodies, how they suddenly feel that a problem they have been chewing on for a long time has been solved, then one sees something like a sudden restlessness – but a pleasant restlessness in their chairs. Where the big problems are, not just the minor feelings of life, but where there is really, even if often only “smoking” enthusiasm, then you see again how relief comes out of people.

The anthroposophical teacher therefore always looks at the big problems as something that can help him remain human at every age, so that when he enters the school, what keeps him fresh and alive does not wither away. It is quite different whether one always has only what is in the schoolbooks in front of one and teaches it to the children, or whether one steps out of that and now faces the great world perspectives as a human being. Then one carries what one takes in within oneself into the atmosphere with which one enters the classroom during lessons.