Rudolf Steiner in the Waldorf School
GA 298
13 January 1921, Stuttgart
Address and discussion at a parents' evening
Dear friends;1The wording of this speech and of the discussion that follows was revised by Rudolf Steiner himself for publication in the Mitteilungsblatt für die MitZlieder des Vereins Freie Waldorfschule [Newsletter for Members of the Independent Waldorf School Association], March 1922, Vol. 2. dear ladies and gentlemen! You have chosen to entrust your children’s education to the Waldorf School, which has now been in existence for more than a year. If we want to communicate the Waldorf School’s methods and manner of instruction in a few indications—we do not have time for more than that tonight—it is best to start by mentioning one thing that we need in the Waldorf School much more than in any other school. In this school more that in any other, we need to work with the parents in a relationship of trust if we want to move forward in the right way. Our teachers absolutely depend on finding this relationship of trust with the children’s parents, since our school is fundamentally based on spiritual freedom—by which I do not mean, of course, any phantasmagorical spiritual license on the part of the children. Our school takes its place in our overall culture as an independent school in the best sense of the word. Just think about the otherwise compulsory integration of school life into public life by the civil authorities. Schools have been conceived wholly in the context of the state establishment which they are intended to serve exclusively, supplying the state with human beings of the sort it requires. That this is not also in the interest of truly healthy individual development is the recognition on which the Waldorf School is founded. The Waldorf School is intended to serve healthy human development above all else. All the instruction and education taking place in the Waldorf School are to be built up on the basis of healthy human development.
As you know, people today often say that a child’s individuality should be developed in school, that children should not be force-fed, that we should draw out what is present in each child. This is a very nice principle. There are many, many equally nice principles in the pedagogical literature of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. In an abstract respect, this pedagogical literature, which is supposed to teach teachers how to teach, is not bad at all. An extraordinary number of good things have been said about education by all kinds of humanitarian people, but we cannot say that these good intentions correspond in all instances to the actual practice of education, as we may call it. And that is what it all depends on for us in the Waldorf School—on building up a real, true practice of education. And I actually do believe that it will be possible to arrive at a true practice of education through cultivating the spiritual life that takes place in our circles in particular, for this is especially intended to enable us to understand the human being better than any other way of cultivating the spiritual life could do. And this applies not only to the adult human being, but also to the child, to the human being in the becoming.
People often believe that they understand growing human beings in the right way. And at least as a general rule—and in fact this is much more often the case than those who are not closely involved with children believe—there is indeed a human relationship in which a very good understanding of the developing human being is present, and that is the relationship of a father or mother to the child. The relationship of a father and mother to their child is a natural one. It is one in which they grow into living with the child, and they have a certain feeling for the right thing to do. Of course they may also do the wrong thing at times, but that is because of more or less unnatural circumstances, because of an unnatural development in their proper fatherly or motherly feeling.
However, when the child grows up and enters the time when the change of teeth begins, then what home can be for the child is no longer enough. If this were not the case, then we would not need to have schools. But at this point the child must go to school, and then the important thing is for the child to receive an education that can guide him or her as a developing individual toward life, consciously and out of an understanding of the nature of the child. In order for this to take place, however, a real understanding of the human being must be alive in the child’s teacher. And a real understanding of the human being actually requires the teacher to be active in the noblest of the sciences, the science of the soul. Because the human being is fashioned out of the entire world, a real knowledge of the human being requires us to look into the whole world with a free and penetrating gaze. Someone who is not sufficiently warmly interested in knowing about the world to focus on it will also not be capable of insight into the human heart and mind, and especially not into the aspect of this that is meant to make a child develop into a complete human being. Anyone who is incapable of feeling everything that exists in the world as the physical element, everything that pervades and governs the world as the soul element, and everything that is contained in it as the spiritual element, will not be able to understand the nature of the child, because there is still present in the child something of the mysterious working of what is brought along when a human being descends from quite different worlds, from spiritual worlds, to the parents from whom he or she takes on a body.
When we observe a child in the first years of life, from week to week and from month to month, it is really the most wonderful thing in the world’s becoming. The world’s most wonderful secrets are revealed when we observe how something that is at first indefinite grows out spiritually through the child’s physical being, how indeterminate features that still bear traces of the merely natural are shaped by the inner element of spirit and soul, how the soul gradually works its way out through the eyes that gaze into life with ever-increasing understanding. It is wonderful to see how children become one with their surroundings, how they recreate almost everything they see there in all that they do in their still clumsy fashion, and how they finally grow together with their surroundings in learning to speak. The first seven years of their life are totally dedicated to growing together with their surroundings in this way. When the children are admitted to school, around the time when they are approaching the change of teeth, then everything we undertake with them must be based on this knowledge of the human being.
However, there is also something else on which it must be based. We may believe that we understand the nature of the growing human being. However, what induces a child to read, write, and do arithmetic must be drawn from the very nature of the growing person, and here we soon notice what a complicated thing it is to truly understand the human being. In our teacher-training courses we may have learned methodically and well how to teach reading and writing and so forth. Then we can make an effort to apply what we learned there, and in practical terms we can even do very well up to a certain point, and yet we achieve nothing in our teaching unless a certain relationship exists between teacher and child, a relationship of real mutual love. That is what we really try to cultivate in our Waldorf School as something that is pedagogically and methodologically just as necessary as mere outer skill. We want an atmosphere of love to be alive in every class, and for instruction to take place on the basis of this atmosphere of love.
But this love cannot be mandated. It is not accomplished by giving sermons on this type of love in teacher-training institutes. Love cannot be taught just like that. But as teachers, we actually need more love than we need for the other aspects of our lives. You see, the amount of love people usually have for their children, no matter how many they may have, is small compared to what a teacher needs. No one has as many children of their own as a teacher usually has to teach in a class. As adults we develop the love of a man for a woman and a woman for a man, and this is also something that is meant to be kept within a narrow circle, because it is not good if love of this sort is divided up among too many personalities. So the love that flows from an individual out into life is always meant to be distributed among relatively few people. Of course we are supposed to love all human beings, but that is kept within certain limits. To include the millions is only possible to a certain extent.
However, it is absolutely necessary for a teacher to have the same degree of love, although possibly in a somewhat different way, for the children in his or her class that parents have for their children or a man for the woman he loves or a woman for the man she loves. It must be the same love and just as intense. It is transferred more to a soul and spiritual level, but it must be present. We are not born with this love; we must acquire it from elsewhere, from a science, from knowledge. This science, however, is not as dry and abstract as today’s natural sciences or scientific activity in general, whose dryness and solemnity have rubbed off on education. We can have love of this sort only as a result of a science that truly deals with the spirit and reveals the spirit, for where a science provides spirit, it also provides love. Thus the cultivation of the spiritual life, the spiritual science, that has led to founding the Waldorf School provides the teachers with this real love. We need this love; everything must be based on it. Even the school’s most matter-of-course methods must be based on it. Above all else, the spirit of understanding the world and the spirit of love must be present in instruction as it is practiced in the Waldorf School, in the education that we want to provide. And this cannot be accomplished with cliches and generalities. It can be accomplished only if we know how to apply in detail and over and over again what we know about the development of the child from month to month and from year to year.
In ordinary education, people nowadays immediately begin to present the child with something that paralyzes the individual’s entire healthy development. Let us look back on the development of humanity for a moment. There have been times—and we cannot be so arrogant as to imagine that people in those times were stupid and childish—when people did not yet learn to read and write in the modern sense. At most, they learned a primitive form of arithmetic. Today we learn to read and write, but we do not learn reading and writing as they first developed out of nonreading and nonwriting; we learn something that has become very rational and conventionalized. When we do not hesitate to teach children the reading and writing that are now customary in our dealings with each other, we are basically using very artificial means to introduce them to something that is foreign to them. When children come to us in the first grade, we must be careful not to forcefeed them with what adults are supposed to be able to do. And now I am going to speak of something that our dear friend Herr Molt already pointed to—that in the Waldorf School children learn to read and write somewhat later than in other schools. There are good reasons for this. In many respects, it is a mistake to learn to read and write as early as this happens in other schools. The point is not to make the children acquire certain capabilities as quickly as possible, but rather to teach them to be good and capable people later on in life, people who do not make life difficult for themselves. Outer circumstances can make life difficult enough for many people as it is; we do not need an inner feeling of weakness or inability messing up our lives. We must find a method of teaching reading and writing very carefully and on the basis of the children’s natural tendencies and skills.
Let me just mention that we start by first letting the children draw certain forms from which the forms contained in the letters of the alphabet are developed. We let the children get into reading by starting with writing, because the more we start from something that has its basis in the entire human being, the better it is for the children’s development. In reading and writing as we adults use them to interact with each other or to learn about things belonging to spiritual or other aspects of life, the signs for letters, the signs constituting our words, have become something very conventionalized. Ancient peoples still used a pictorial script that contained something concrete. There was still a connection between what was used to express something in writing and what was being expressed. In our letters, however, it is no longer possible to recognize anything of what is being expressed. Thus if we simply teach children these letters as the end result of a long process of development, we are forcing them into something that is foreign to them. Instead, we must lead the children in a sensible way from things they enjoy drawing, from something that comes from their whole being, to the shapes of the letters. Only afterwards can we develop reading on the basis of this.
I have tried to use this example to show you the thrust of our art of education—to really read in growing human beings what we are meant to do with them. Those who understand human nature are well aware of how things are connected in life. We often do not observe much of what is most important in life. We often find people—and today they are much more numerous than we believe—who take no real pleasure in anything, who tire very easily, and who grow old before their time—at least inwardly with regard to their souls—and so on. We are not clear as to the origin of this. It comes from the fact that as children in the sixth, seventh and eighth years of life, they were not taught writing and reading in the right way. Those who understand human nature know that children who learned to read in the right way, who were not force-fed at age six or seven but learned to read and write naturally, may master reading and writing a bit later, but they will take along what they gained from learning to read and write as a real gift that they will have for the rest of their lives.
If we drum it into them in all kinds of artificial ways that disregard their natural tendencies and developmental possibilities, we can get children to read and write at seven-and-a-half, but in many respects we will have crippled these children’s souls for life. In contrast, if we have gone about it in the right way, the children only learn to read and write at age eight, but life forces develop in them as they are learning. That is what we want. While the children are in school, we want them to acquire life forces, forces with effects that will last for their entire lives.
As inhabitants of Central Europe, you do not need to be told that we find ourselves in a terrible situation today. The misery and suffering are truly not becoming any less, but are increasing almost from day to day. And it can be said that much of this stems simply from the fact that people can no longer find their way into life in the right way; they can no longer adapt to life. To be sure, the most important time with regard to people finding their way into life is not their school years, but a much later time, the time when they are in their twenties, between the ages of twenty and thirty. This is the time that earlier ages (which we cannot and do not want to wish back) called the transition from apprenticeship to mastery. There is sometimes something extremely sensible in the designation of such transitions.
This is the time in which people actually fully grow up. They must then find a way to become skillful in life. Then something happens that I would like to compare to the following image taken from nature. Let me remind you of a certain river that flows through Carinthia and Krain. As it flows from its source, it is known as the Poik. Then it disappears into a hole and is no longer visible. After a time it comes to the surface again. It is the same river; it has simply flowed underground for a while, but now as it continues above ground, it is called the Unz. Then it again disappears and flows underground. When it surfaces again, it is known as the Laibach. It surfaces again and again; it is the same water, but sometimes it flows underground.
It is also like this in a human life. There is something present in human life in the second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh years of life, and also during the school years, in the form of children’s urge to play. Everything that belongs to children’s play is especially active at this age. Then, like the river, it sinks below the surface of human life. Later, when sexual maturity arrives and other things happen, we see that this urge to play is no longer active in the same way. But when people enter their twenties, the same thing that was present in play surfaces again. However, it no longer functions as the urge to play; it is now something different. It has now become the way in which the individual can find his or her way into life. And in fact, if children are allowed to play in the right way according to their particular potentials, when they are introduced to the right games, then they will be able to adapt to life in the right way. But if we miss out on something about the nature of the child in the games we introduce, the children will also lack skill in finding their place in life. This is how these things are related: The urge to play, the particular way in which a child plays, disappears and sinks below the surface of life. Then it resurfaces, but as something different, as the skill to adapt to life. There is an inner coherence in life throughout all its stages. We need to know this in order to teach children in the right way.
For example, there is a very important point in time in the life of a child that may sometimes come a bit earlier, sometimes a bit later, but always falls approximately between the ninth and tenth years of life. At this point in a person’ life, a lot depends on having the right feeling of admiration and respect for one’s teacher. Of course, this feeling should also be present at other times, but at this moment in life something essential is being decided for the child. It is really of extraordinarily great significance. That is why the art of education is so difficult to achieve—it rests on a thorough understanding of the human being. Many things that show up at later stages of life and cause a great deal of unhappiness, preventing people from finding their place in life and making them incapable of working, even causing them to develop tendencies toward physical illnesses, all stem from the fact that as children they were not dealt with in the right way between their ninth and tenth years of life. We do not believe this today, but it really is so. Until the ninth or tenth year of life, we must try to keep the children occupied with instructional material that does not force them to think about themselves too much. Instead, they should be thinking about things that are out there in life. Then, between the ninth and tenth years of life, we must begin to present them with concepts and images of plants and animals that help them make a transition from thinking about the world to thinking about themselves. All of our teaching must be designed to introduce things at the right moment, when the inner nature of the child requires it, so to speak.
What I am indicating to you in just a few words is actually a highly developed study of the human being on the basis of spiritual science. This is what makes it possible to develop a real art of education. This art of education, based on a truly spiritual scientific understanding of the human being, is meant to govern the entire Waldorf School; it is meant to be the spirit that prevails there. And in fact, we believe that much of what is so painful in our day and age is crying out for the next generation to be made good and capable through an education of this sort. We also believe that if parents understand why they are entrusting their children to a school that is set up on the basis of a real and thorough understanding of the human being, they also really understand what our present times demand. What we need in this school comes about through a relationship of this sort between the parents and the school. This is a part of how we work. If the children who come to school in the morning are sent off by parents who understand the school and therefore have the right kind of love for it, then the children will also be able to have the right experience of what is meant to come to meet them, more than anything else, when they open the door to the school and meet their teachers with the love that is the only source of truly appropriate instruction and education.
When what we introduce is presented at the right moment and lies within the children’s abilities and potentials, it becomes a source of revitalization for the children for their entire lives. And when the parents of our children realize that we are actually working to produce people who will be both fit for and able to question a life that will become ever more difficult in decades to come, these parents will relate to the school in the right way. Our work must rest on the understanding of the parents. We cannot work in the same way as other schools that are protected by the state and by authorities of all sorts. We can only work only if we are met by an understanding community of parents. We are aware of what we are being given in the children in this school, whom we are trying to educate out of a true understanding of the human being and of what subjects can be employed at any given time. This is the awareness out of which our teachers can teach best. If, out of this awareness, we always try to give these children the best that can be given to them, then we need to have this school surrounded by a wall of parental understanding like the walls of a fortress. We love our children here; we teach on a basis of understanding the human being and of loving children, while around us a different love grows up, the parents’ love for the being of our school. Given the lack of understanding and questionable moral development that we face today, it is only within this community that we are really able to work toward a future in which human beings will thrive.
The work that is to be done in this direction may be limited to a small community, but much can come out of this small community if it always meets the school with the right understanding.
Our teachers need an awareness of this sort because they lack all the compulsory disciplinary measures that teachers in other schools have to back them up, as it were. But nothing reasonable will ever happen in human life as a result of coercion. In order to be able to work in freedom, we need the parents to understand how we try to do this. And the fact that a very considerable number of people have been found who are sending their children to the Waldorf School demonstrates that at least a start has been made toward this understanding. We would like it to spread more and more, of course; we would like more and more people to realize that something good can come about only through a real, true art of education. But especially on evenings like tonight, we must be glad that we can come together in the spirit of wanting to bring about a better future for humanity by working together with those who are trying to raise and educate the generations to come in the sense of real knowledge of and love for the human being.
Of course it is not possible, even with the best of will, to fully achieve the ideal that hovers before us on our first attempt; something, however, has been achieved. To begin with, too, what we are doing will not meet with a full and thorough understanding. It is possible that many things will be misunderstood. Under certain circumstances, it will be possible for people to say, “Well, in this school some children are not being hit often enough. There are surely some children who need to be hit, either literally or figuratively.” Such things are sometimes said, but not out of a thorough understanding of, or love for, the human being. There are methods that may work more slowly, but are more certain to develop the good in a person than any unnatural compulsory disciplinary measures. An understanding of some of these things can be achieved only gradually.
You know, I was recently told about one boy who came to the school only a short time ago, but has put in a lot of thought and also really learned something fundamental here with us. He said, “I don't know; I used to be in another school where we learned arithmetic and mathematics and geometry and all kinds of things; and now I'm supposed to become a good, capable person, but in this school I'm not learning any math at all. What am I going to amount to if I don't learn any math?” Where did this boy get the idea that he was not going to learn any math? You see, we try to accomplish under natural circumstances what other schools attempt to achieve by scheduling, by herding the children from one subject to another so that they never have time to concentrate on anything. So that the children can really work their way into a subject, we teach the same subject for weeks at a time during the main lesson of the day, for two hours each morning. We do not jump from one lesson to the next or from one subject to the next; we only change subjects after a while. Now this boy arrived at a time when mathematics was not being taught, so he thought that he was not going to learn any math at all. Later, of course, he noticed that he was then concentrating on math rather than being driven on to something different in each lesson; he was learning math more thoroughly. It is easy for misunderstandings of this sort to arise, even if they are not all as obvious as in this case. In the Waldorf School, many things look different from what we were used to earlier, so we should not be too quick to judge.
The things we foster really are drawn from what I have called “understanding the human being.” This is characteristic of our school. It is also the reason why, as far as we can tell, the children are extraordinarily happy to come to school. I come to the school from time to time and take part in the lessons. We are striving to work out of the nature of the child in such a way that the children feel that they want to know the things we intend them to know, to be able to do the things we intend them to be able to do, rather than having the feeling that things are being forced upon them. This has to be developed in a way specific to each subject, since each one is different.
Next, all instruction must be pervaded by a specific educational principle that can be attained only if the teachers themselves are fully involved in spiritual activity. It is not possible for them to do this if they are not aware of their responsibility to the spiritual life. However, ladies and gentlemen, it is only possible to take up this great responsibility toward the spiritual life if it is not being replaced for us by a merely external feeling of responsibility. If we proceed simply according to what is prescribed for a single school year, we feel relieved of the need to research week by week both what we are to take up in school with regard to the individual subject, and how we are to present it. It should be characteristic of our teachers that they draw again and again from the living spiritual source. In doing so, they must feel responsible to the spiritual life and know that the spiritual life is free and independent. The school must be self-administrating; teachers cannot be civil servants. They must be fully their own masters, because they know a higher master than any outer circumstance, the spiritual life itself, to whom they stand in a direct connection that is not mediated by school officials, principals, inspectors, school boards, and so forth. The activity of teaching, if it is really independent, requires this direct connection to the sources of spiritual life.2On truly independent educational activity and the threefolding of the social organism, see Rudolf Steiner’s Towards Social Renewal, Rudolf Steiner Press, Bristol, England, 1992, [Die Kernpunkte der sozialen Frage in den Lebensnotwendjgkeiten der Gegenwart und Zukunft (1920)], GA 23, 1976, and The Renewal of the Social Organism, Anthroposophic Press, Spring Valley, NY, 1985, in GA 24, Aufsätze iiber die Dreigliederung des sozialen Organismus und zur Zeitlage 1915-1921, 1961. Only teachers who possess this direct connection are then able to convey the spiritual source to the children in their classes. This is what we want to do; this is what we are striving to accomplish more and more. In the time since we began our work, we have carefully reviewed from month to month how our principles are working with the children. In the years to come, some things will be carried out in line with different or more complete points of view than in previous years. This is how we would like to govern this school—out of an activity that is direct and unmediated, as indeed it must be if it flows from spiritual depths.
You absolutely do not need to be afraid that we are trying to make this school into one that represents a particular philosophy, or that we intend to drum any anthroposophical or other dogmas into the children. That is not what we have in mind. Anyone who says that we are trying to teach the children specifically anthroposophical convictions is not telling the truth. Rather, we are trying to develop an art of education on the basis of what anthroposophy means to us. The “how” of educating is what we are trying to gain from our spiritual understanding. We are not trying to drum our opinions into the children, but we believe that spiritual science differs from any other science in filling the entire person, in making people skillful in all areas, but especially in their dealings with other human beings. This “how” is what we are trying to look at, not the “what.” The “what” is a result of social necessities; we must apply our full interest to deriving it from a reading of what people should know and be able to do if they are to take their place in our times as good, capable individuals. The “how,” on the other hand, how to teach the children something, can only result from a thorough, profound and loving understanding of the human being. This is what is meant to work and to prevail in our Waldorf School.
This is what I wanted to tell you, my dear friends—to point out how on the one hand we need our children’s parents to be really sincere friends of our school. The more we are able to know that this is the case, the better and more forcefully we will be able to accomplish our intentions for the school. We need to have an ongoing activity of love for teaching, of love for dealing with children, among our faculty and among all those who are connected to our teaching. This will be accomplished if a real spiritual life, a spiritual life that has honest and upright intentions with regard to humanity’s spiritual, economic and political upswing and progress, stands behind our faculty and all those having to do with our school. It will be accomplished if the attitude toward teaching and the skill in teaching that are to be at work in our school are surrounded by a wall of parents who approach us with understanding and are devoted to our school in sincere friendship. If we have these friends, then the work of our school will succeed, and we can be convinced, ladies and gentlemen, that by doing what is good for our school and our children we will also be doing what is good for all of humanity as it is meant to evolve in the future. To work in the right way for education, for schooling, also means to work seriously and truly for human progress.
From the discussion
Herr Molt thanked Dr. Steiner for his lecture and encouraged the parents to ask questions and make their wishes known.
People complained that the children in the second grade could not yet read as well as those in the public school, and that because the subjects were being taught in blocks, the children always lost their connection to what had been done before.
Dr. Steiner replied:
With regard to reading and writing at the right time, I would still like to say the following: In line with what we are accustomed to today, it is certainly somewhat depressing to see a child going into the second grade who still cannot correctly rattle off what is there on the paper in the form of little ghosts. However, experience contradicts this and teaches us to know better. You see, we do not necessarily have to assess life only in terms of very short spans of time. I have met people who at the age of eighteen or nineteen were able to put their reading and writing to extremely good and skillful use, for instance because of being obliged to take up a career at an early age, as life sometimes demands of us. I have met people who found their place in a profession at an early age with considerable skill, and I have known others who did this with less skill. Now, do some research and find out whether, among these people whom life forced to embark on a career at age eighteen or nineteen, the ones who did so with skill are the ones who learned early, much too early, to rattle off what the little ghosts on the paper said, or whether it was the ones who learned to do this somewhat later. At issue here is whether things were learned in the right way for real life. This is what our method adheres to very carefully. I would like to make you aware that we often do not observe these things in their appropriate context in life. I have met people who had a very, very good style of writing, who wrote good letters. It was possible to research the circumstances to which they owed this. And I must confess quite openly that I discovered that in most cases they were people who had still made the most awful mistakes at age eight or nine. They only learned to shed these mistakes at age ten or eleven, but that is how they came by their special skill. These things are complicated, and we have to consider how our methods of instruction proceed from a comprehensive understanding of the human being. Then we will get used to the fact that many things become accessible to the children at different times from what we are used to. If it had always been the case that there had been strict rules about these things—"It is harmful for children to learn to read before the age of eight”—then no one today would be surprised when they still cannot read, but now we think this is a bad thing. There is something in this that you just said yourselves: The Waldorf School is supposed to lead to the right thing, not to make compromises with what is false.
As to what was said about it being difficult for the children to get back into a subject when they have been away from it for a while, what is important here is that we not judge the success of the school by what happens in the very next block of time. For the life of the mind, we need something similar to what happens in our physical life: We cannot be awake all the time; we must also sleep. When we do not sleep, we also cannot be properly awake in the long run. When the children have been taught for a couple of years according to this method, in which things do not always proceed at a constant pace but are removed from the children’s view now and then, you will be able to convince yourselves how thoroughly they have taken possession of these things. After a couple of years you will probably come to a different conclusion than you do now on the basis of first impressions. Of course we are exposed to misunderstandings on some counts. However, perhaps what now puts people off will prove its worth over the years. We must wait and see.
Two additional questions addressed the points of whether Waldorf school students would be able to take the Abitur,3The German school-leaving examination that qualifies a student for university entrance. and of whether it would not be possible to assign homework.
Dr. Steiner responded:
It is certainly a matter of principle with us that the children should not be deprived of any possibility to take their place in life as we know it at present. There are certain things we have to do as a consequence of our pedagogical and methodological viewpoints, but these must be compatible with guiding the children into life in ways that do not cause them any outer difficulties. I formulated this principle myself, and it is being implemented as best we possibly can, especially in the most important points. With this in mind, I also drew up a document, an educational contract of a sort, that takes these two things into account.4When the Waldorf School was founded, Rudolf Steiner had submitted a memorandum to the authorities in which the agreement was recorded that at the conclusion of the third, sixth and eighth grades its students were to be at the same level of learning as their counterparts in the public schools. Within these time-periods, however, the School was guaranteed complete freedom of instruction. We teach without regard for the interim educational goals that are set for the individual grades in other schools until our children are nine years old and have completed the third grade. After all, in order to do justice to what follows from a real recognition of the children’s needs and to meet the demands of a real philosophy of education, we need a certain amount of leeway, don't we? After this amount of time, we can then take into account what is required of us by law for all kinds of underlying reasons. So, by age nine we want the children to have come far enough that they would be able to transfer to any other school. After that, we again allow ourselves some leeway until they are twelve, so that we can again practice an appropriate education during this time. At age twelve, any child is again able to transfer to another school. The same thing will apply at age fifteen and again at the Abitur: If we are lucky enough to be able to continue adding grades to the school and to take the children all the way to the Abitur; then they will be far enough along to take the exam at the usual age. Of course it is always possible that there will be an examiner somewhere who insists that the young people from the Waldorf School cannot do a thing. It is always possible for the examiners to flunk someone if they so choose, or to give the slow ones a good grade and flunk the smart ones. We cannot guarantee that this will not happen. As a general rule, however, where we can do better than what is done outside, we must do better, in spite of the fact that we must avoid putting obstacles in the children’s way when it comes to meeting the outer demands of life. To be sure, this is at best a second choice. It would be better if we could also establish colleges, but that cannot be, so we must be content with the second choice in this instance.
We should never fail to consider what it means for a real art of education when children are given assignments that we cannot make them complete. It is much, much better to refrain from giving compulsory homework, so that we can count on having the children do what they do with real pleasure and conviction, rather than constantly giving assignments which some children will not complete anyway. It is the worst thing in education to constantly give assignments that are not carried out. It demoralizes the children in a terrible way. We must be especially careful to comply with these more subtle educational principles. The children who want to work have plenty to do, but there should be no attempt at coercion on the part of the school. Instead, if we absolutely want the children to work at home, we should make the effort to encourage them to do so voluntarily. There will always be enough for them to do. But we should not let the tendency arise to work counter to the principles of a really appropriate art of education by moving toward coercion.
Ansprache Am Elternabend
Meine lieben Freunde, sehr verehrte Anwesende! Die Waldorfschule, die jetzt schon mehr als ein Jahr besteht, haben Sie gewählt, um ihr Ihre Kinder zur Erziehung zu übergeben. Wenn wir uns in wenigen Andeutungen - mehr kann es ja nicht sein in dieser kurzen Zeit - über die Methoden und die Unterrichtsweise, die Erziehungsart in der Waldorfschule verständigen wollen, werden wir am besten davon ausgehen, das zu erwähnen, was wir in der Waldorfschule viel mehr brauchen als in einer anderen Schule. Wir brauchen in dieser Schule, wenn wir in der richtigen Weise vorwärtskommen wollen, mehr als in einer anderen ein vertrauensvolles Zusammenwirken mit den Eltern. Unsere Lehrer sind durchaus darauf angewiesen, dieses vertrauensvolle Zusammenwirken mit den Eltern der Kinder zu finden. Denn unsere Schule ist durch und durch auf geistige Freiheit gebaut - womit ich natürlich nicht irgendeine phantastische geistige Freiheit der Kinder meine. Unsere Schule stellt sich in das allgemeine Kulturleben hinein als eine im besten Sinne des Wortes freie Schule. Bedenken Sie doch nur, wie sonst das Schulleben heute in die Öffentlichkeit hineingestellt ist durch den Zwang, durch die öffentliche Autorität. Es ist ganz aus den Einrichtungen des Staates heraus gedacht, es soll nur den Einrichtungen des Staates dienen, soll vor allen Dingen dem Staate solche Menschen liefern, wie er sie braucht. Daß dies nicht zugleich im Interesse einer wirklich gesunden menschlichen Entwickelung liegt, das ist die Erkenntnis, aus der heraus die Waldorfschule gegründet ist. Sie soll vor allem einer gesunden menschlichen Entwickelung dienen. Auf die gesunde menschliche Entwickelung soll aller Unterricht und alle Erziehung in der Waldorfschule aufgebaut sein.
Sehen Sie, die Menschen sagen heute sehr oft, man solle in der Schule die Individualität des Kindes entwickeln, man solle nichts in das Kind hineintrichtern, sondern man solle dasjenige, was in dem Kinde liegt, aus diesem herausholen. -— Das ist ein sehr schöner Grundsatz. Solche schönen Grundsätze hat man überhaupt sehr viele in der pädagogischen Literatur des 19. und 20. Jahrhunderts. Denn diese pädagogische Literatur, aus der die Lehrer das Lehren lernen sollen, ist in abstrakter Beziehung gar nicht schlecht. Es ist außerordentlich viel Gutes über das Erziehungswesen gesagt worden von allerlei sehr menschenfreundlichen Leuten; aber man kann nicht sagen, daß diesen guten Absichten auch überall dasjenige entspricht, was man Lehrpraxis und Erziehungspraxis nennen kann. Und das ist es eigentlich, worauf es bei uns in der Waldorfschule ankommt, heranzubilden eine echte, wahre Erziehungspraxis und Unterrichtspraxis. Und ich glaube in der Tat, durch diejenige Pflege des geistigen Lebens, die gerade in unseren Kreisen stattfindet, herausfinden zu können eine wahre Erziehungspraxis und Unterrichtspraxis. Denn diese Pflege des geistigen Lebens soll ja besonders dazu befähigen, den Menschen besser kennenzulernen als irgendeine andere Art der Pflege des geistigen Lebens. Und das soll sich nicht nur auf den erwachsenen Menschen, sondern auch den werdenden Menschen, das Kind, beziehen.
Diesen werdenden Menschen, man glaubt ja oftmals, ihn in der richtigen Weise zu kennen. Gewiß, es gibt ein menschliches Verhältnis, in dem wenigstens in der Regel, ja vielmehr, als man oftmals bei denjenigen denkt, denen das Kindliche nicht nahetritt, eine recht gute Erkenntnis des werdenden Menschen, des Kindes vorhanden ist, das ist das Verhältnis des Vaters, der Mutter zu dem Kinde. Das Verhältnis des Vaters und der Mutter zu dem Kinde ist ein naturgemäßes. Es ist ein solches, beim dem man hineinwächst in das Zusammenleben mit dem Kinde. Da tut man aus einem gewissen Gefühl heraus das Richtige. Man tut gewiß manchmal auch etwas Unrichtiges; aber das liegt dann mehr oder weniger in unnatürlichen Verhältnissen, in einer unnatürlichen Entwickelung des richtigen Vater- und Muttergefühls.
Wenn aber dann das Kind hineinwächst in die Zeit, in der der Zahnwechsel beginnt, dann geht es nicht mehr ab mit demjenigen, was das Elternhaus dem Kinde sein kann; denn sonst würde man ja nicht genötigt sein, Schulen zu haben. Dann muß das Kind in die Schule. Und dann handelt es sich darum, daß das Kind in eine solche Erziehung kommt und an einen solchen Unterricht herantreten kann, in denen bewußt aus der Erkenntnis des kindlichen Wesens heraus der Mensch, der werdende Mensch, dem Leben entgegengeführt werden kann. Damit aber das stattfinden kann, muß im Lehrer, im Erzieher eine wirkliche Erkenntnis des Menschen leben. Und eine wirkliche Erkenntnis des Menschen erfordert tatsächlich ein Leben in der edelsten Wissenschaftlichkeit, in der Wissenschaftlichkeit des Seelischen. Ein wirkliches Erkennen des Menschen fordert einen freien, eindringlichen Blick in die ganze Welt. Denn der Mensch ist herausgestaltet aus der ganzen Welt. Und wer nicht mit einem warmen Interesse an Welterkenntnis hängen kann, der kann auch nicht hineinschauen in das menschliche Gemüt, insbesondere nicht in das menschliche Gemüt, das im Kinde erst heranreifen soll zum ganzen Menschen. Und wer nicht fühlen kann alles dasjenige, was an Physischem in der Welt existiert, was an Seelischem die Welt durchwaltet, was die Welt an Geistigem enthält, der kann nicht das Wesen des Kindes erkennen; denn in dem Kinde ist noch etwas drinnen von dem geheimnisvollen Walten desjenigen, was der Mensch sich mitbringt, wenn er aus ganz anderen Welten, aus geistigen Welten herunterkommt zu seinen Eltern und von ihnen einen Körper annimmt. Wenn man das Kind in den ersten Lebensjahren betrachtet, von Woche zu Woche, von Monat zu Monat - so ergibt sich ja wirklich das Wunderbarste im ganzen Weltenwerden; wenn man betrachtet, wie ein zunächst Unbestimmtes geistig herauswächst durch die Körperlichkeit des Kindes, wie die unbestimmten Züge, die noch etwas von bloß Naturhaftem an sich tragen, durch das innere Geistig-Seelische gestaltet werden; wie die Seele allmählich herausdringt durch das Auge, das immer verständiger und verständiger in das Leben hineinblickt, so enthüllen sich die wunderbarsten Weltgeheimnisse. Es ist dann etwas ganz Wunderbares, zu sehen, wie das Kind mit seiner Umgebung zusammenwächst, wie es in demjenigen, was es in noch ungeschickter Weise ausführt, fast ganz nachmacht dasjenige, was es in seiner Umgebung sieht; wie es endlich zusammenwächst mit seiner Umgebung im Sprechenlernen. Die ersten sieben Lebensjahre des Kindes, sie sind ja ganz und gar diesem seinem Zusammenwachsen mit der Umgebung gewidmet. Und dann, wenn das Kind ungefähr zu der Zeit, in der der Zahnwechsel herannaht, von der Schule übernommen wird, dann muß man jedes einzelne, was man mit dem Kinde vollbringt, begründen auf diese Menschenkenntnis. Aber man muß es noch auf anderes begründen.
Man kann glauben, man kenne das Wesen des werdenden Menschen. Aber man muß aus diesem Wesen des werdenden Menschen herausholen dasjenige, was dann das Kind zum Lesen, zum Schreiben, zum Rechnen bringt. Man merkt da bald, welch kompliziertes Ding echte Menschenkenntnis ist. Man kann das Lesenlehren, das Schreibenlehren und so weiter gut methodisch gelernt haben in den pädagogischen Vorbereitungsanstalten für den Lehrer und die Lehrerin. Man kann sich dann bemühen, dasjenige, was man da gelernt hat, anzuwenden, und man kann das sogar bis zu einem gewissen Grade in verständiger Weise sehr gut machen; und doch: man erzielt nichts im Unterricht und in der Erziehung in der Schule, wenn nicht zwischen dem Lehrer und dem Kinde ein ganz bestimmtes Verhältnis ist, das Verhältnis wirklicher Liebe des Lehrers zum Kinde und des Kindes zum Lehrer. Das ist dasjenige, was wir wirklich in unserer Waldorfschule pflegen wollen; pflegen wollen als etwas pädagogisch und didaktisch ebenso Notwendiges, wie bloße äußere Geschicklichkeit. Wir möchten, daß eine Atmosphäre von Liebe lebt in jeder Klasse, und daß aus dieser Atmosphäre von Liebe heraus der Unterricht gegeben werde.
Aber diese Liebe, sie läßt sich nicht diktieren. Es ist nicht damit getan, daß man in den Präparandenanstalten, den Vorbereitungsanstalten für den Lehrerberuf, über diese Liebe Predigten hält. Man kann die Liebe nicht so ohne weiteres lehren. Aber man braucht als Lehrer tatsächlich mehr Liebe, als man für das andere Leben braucht. Sehen Sie, die Menge von Liebe, die sonst die Menschen aufbringen für ihre Kinder, und wenn es eine noch so große Schar ist, ist gering gegen die für den Lehrer nötige; so viele Kinder hat man doch nicht, als der Lehrer gewöhnlich in der Klasse unterrichten muß. Dann, im späteren Leben, bringt man auf die Liebe des Mannes zur Frau, der Frau zum Mann, und das ist auch etwas, was in engerem Kreise gehalten werden soll, denn da ist es ja auch nicht gut, wenn sich diese Liebe zu sehr zwischen vielen Persönlichkeiten teilt, da ist immer dasjenige, was als Liebe vom Menschen in das Leben ausströmen soll, auf verhältnismäßig wenige Menschen verteilt. Gewiß, man kann, man soll alle Menschen lieben; aber das bleibt doch eben innerhalb gewisser Grenzen. Man kann nur bis zu einem gewissen Grade dem Wort dienen: Seid umschlungen, Millionen!
Aber denselben Grad von Liebe, wenn auch vielleicht in einer etwas anderen Art, wie sie die Eltern für die Kinder haben, der Mann für die geliebte Frau, die Frau für den geliebten Mann -, dieselbe Liebe, ebenso intensiv muß sie der Lehrer oder die Lehrerin für die Kinder unbedingt haben; mehr ins Seelische, mehr ins Geistige übersetzt, aber sie muß da sein. Diese Liebe hat man nicht angeboren, sondern die muß man aus etwas ganz anderem heraus haben. Man muß sie aus einer Wissenschaft, aus einer Erkenntnis haben; aber aus einer Wissenschaft, die nicht so trocken, nicht so abstrakt ist, wie heute die Naturwissenschaft oder irgendeine andere Wissenschaft, wie überhaupt das ganze wissenschaftliche Leben ist, das von seiner Trockenheit, seiner Nüchternheit auf die Pädagogik abfärbt. Diese Liebe kann man nur aus einer Wissenschaft heraus haben, die wirklich vom Geiste handelt, die den Geist offenbart. Denn wo eine Wissenschaft den Geist gibt, da gibt sie auch Liebe. Und so gibt diejenige Pflege des Geistigen, diejenige geistige Wissenschaft, die zur Begründung der Waldorfschule geführt hat, den Lehrern und Lehrerinnen diese wirkliche Liebe. Und die braucht man, auf die muß alles begründet sein. Gerade die naturgemäßesten Methoden in der Schule müssen auf diese Liebe begründet sein. Es ist der Geist des Weltverstehens und dieser Geist der Liebe, die vor allen Dingen drinnen sein wollen in dem Unterricht, den wir in der Waldorfschule pflegen, in der Erziehung, die wir in der Waldorfschule geben wollen. Und das läßt sich nicht machen mit allgemeinen Phrasen, das läßt sich nur machen, wenn man dasjenige, was man von der Entwickelung des Kindes kennt, von Monat zu Monat, von Jahr zu Jahr im einzelnen immer wiederum anzuwenden weiß.
Im gewöhnlichen Unterricht beginnt man heute gleich damit, an das Kind etwas heranzubringen, was die ganze gesunde Entwickelung des Menschen lähmt. Sehen Sie einmal zurück in der Menschheitsentwickelung. Es hat Zeiten gegeben - und man darf nicht so hochmütig sein, die Menschen in diesen Zeiten nur für dumm und kindisch zu halten -, da haben die Menschen noch nicht in dem heutigen Sinne lesen und schreiben gelernt, höchstens ein primitives Rechnen. Heute lernen wir lesen und schreiben, aber wir lernen auch nicht dasjenige Lesen und Schreiben, das sich zuerst herausentwickelt hat aus dem Nichtlesen und Nichtschreiben; sondern heute lernen wir etwas, was schon sehr verstandesmäßig und konventionell geworden ist. Im Grunde genommen wird das Kind in ganz künstlicher Weise in etwas ihm Fremdes hineingeführt, wenn man es ohne weiteres das Lesen und Schreiben lehrt, das heute im menschlichen Verkehr üblich ist. Wenn man das Kind im ersten Schuljahr bekommt, dann muß man bedacht sein, ihm nicht in gewaltsamer Weise dasjenige einzutrichtern, was nun die Großen können sollen. Und da komme ich gleich auf etwas zu sprechen, auf das ja schon unser verehrter Herr Molt hingedeutet hat, daß in der Waldorfschule die Kinder etwas später lesen und schreiben lernen als in anderen Schulen. Das hat seine guten Gründe. Das frühe Lesen- und Schreibenlernen in anderen Schulen ist in vieler Beziehung ein Fehler. Denn nicht darum handelt es sich, daß man die Kinder so schnell wie möglich zu gewissen Fertigkeiten bringt, sondern darum, daß man sie dazu bringt, daß sie einmal im späteren Leben tüchtige Menschen werden, die sich das. Dasein nicht selber versauern, es sich nicht selber schwierig machen. Die äußeren Verhältnisse können das Leben schon schwer genug für viele Menschen machen, es braucht nicht noch das innere Schwächegefühl, das innere Unfähigkeitsgefühl aufzutauchen, um das Leben erst recht sauer zu machen. Es muß eine Methode gefunden werden, um in ganz sorgfältiger Weise aus den natürlichen Neigungen und Geschicklichkeiten der Kinder lesen und schreiben zu lehren.
Wir gehen - ich will das nur erwähnen - davon aus, daß wir das Kind zuerst gewisse Formen zeichnen lassen, damit sich aus diesen Formen diejenigen entwickeln, die in den Buchstaben liegen. Wir lassen das Kind vom Schreiben ausgehen, um ins Lesen hineinzukommen. Denn je mehr man ausgeht von dem, was im ganzen Menschen begründet ist, desto besser ist es für die Entwickelung des Kindes. Das Lesen und Schreiben, wie wir es als erwachsene Menschen zu unserem menschlichen Verkehr oder zur Aufnahme von irgendwelchen Dingen des geistigen und sonstigen Lebens gebrauchen, ist ja so beschaffen, daß im Lesen die Zeichen, die unsere Worte zusammensetzen, die Zeichen für unsere Buchstaben, schon etwas ganz Konventionelles geworden sind. Ältere Völker haben noch eine Bilderschrift gehabt; in dieser Bilderschrift lag etwas Anschauliches. Da war noch eine Beziehung zwischen dem, wodurch man schreibend etwas ausdrückte, und demjenigen, was ausgedrückt werden sollte. In unseren Buchstaben ist nichts mehr zu erkennen von dem, was ausgedrückt werden soll. Wenn man daher die Buchstaben so einfach den Kindern lehrt, wie sie ja in langer Entwickelung erst geworden sind, dann zwingt man das Kind an etwas ihm Fremdes heran. Von dem, was das Kind gerne hinzeichnet, was es aus seinem ganzen Wesen heraus macht, muß man es vernünftig, verständig hinüberführen zu den Buchstabenformen. Dann erst kann man das Lesen daraus entwickeln.
An diesem Beispiel wollte ich Ihnen nur zeigen, worauf unsere pädagogische Kunst hinaus will: wirklich dem werdenden Menschen abzulesen, was man mit ihm machen soll. Derjenige, der die Menschennatur kennt, der weiß ganz gut, wie die Dinge im Leben zusammenhängen. Das, was da das Allerwichtigste ist, das beobachtet man im Leben oftmals wirklich recht wenig. Man findet im Leben oftmals Menschen, und heute sind diese wirklich zahlreicher als man glaubt, die an nichts recht Freude haben, die furchtbar leicht ermüden, die früh altern, wenigstens innerlich seelisch altern und so weiter. Man macht sich nicht klar, wovon so etwas herrührt. Es rührt davon her, daß nicht in der richtigen Weise das Kind im sechsten, siebenten, achten Jahr im Schreiben und Lesen unterrichtet worden ist. Derjenige, der die Menschennatur kennt, weiß, daß ein Kind, das in der richtigen Weise lesen gelernt hat, dem es nicht eingepaukt, eingetrichtert worden ist bis zum siebenten, achten Jahr, sondern das in richtiger, naturgemäßer Weise lesen und schreiben gelernt hat und es daher vielleicht ein bißchen später fertiggekriegt hat, dafür das, was es vom Lesen- und Schreibenlernen hat, als eine wirklich gute Gabe für das ganze Leben hat.
Man kann durch alle möglichen künstlichen Einpaukereien, die über alle Neigungen und Entwickelungsmöglichkeiten des Kindes hinwegsehen, erreichen, daß das Kind mit siebeneinhalb Jahren lesen und schreiben kann; aber ein solches Kind hat man in vieler Beziehung seelisch für das ganze Leben gelähmt. Wenn man dagegen in der richtigen Weise vorgegangen ist, dann hat das Kind erst mit acht Jahren lesen und schreiben gelernt, aber so, daß im Lernen Lebenskräfte in ihm entstanden sind. Und das wollen wir. Wir wollen, daß das Kind Lebenskraft aus der Schule heraus erlangt, die immer wieder und wiederum in dem Kinde das ganze Leben hindurch nachwirkt.
Wir stehen heute — das braucht man ja besonders den Bewohnern Mitteleuropas nicht zu sagen - in einer furchtbaren Zeitlage drinnen. Not und Elend, sie werden ja wahrhaftig nicht kleiner, sondern fast mit jedem Tag größer. Und man kann schon sagen: Vieles von dem rührt einfach davon her, daß sich die Menschen nicht mehr ins Leben richtig hineinfinden können, sich nicht ans Leben anpassen können. Nun ist die allerwichtigste Zeit, in der der Mensch sich ins Leben hineinfinden soll, allerdings nicht die Schulzeit, sondern eine viel spätere Zeit; es ist die Zeit der Zwanzigerjahre, zwischen zwanzig und dreißig. Es ist diejenige Zeit, die die älteren Epochen - die wir nicht zurückwünschen wollen und können - den Übergang von der Lehrzeit zur Meisterschaftszeit genannt haben. In solchen Übergangsbenennungen liegt manchmal etwas außerordentlich Vernünftiges. - In dieser Zeit wächst der Mensch ja eigentlich erst ganz aus. Da muß er den Weg finden, um im Leben geschickt zu werden. Da tritt etwas ein, das ich mit folgendem vergleichen möchte. Ich möchte Sie da erinnern an ein Bild, das ich aus der Natur nehme. Es gibt gewisse Flüsse in Kärnten und Krain; ein solcher Fluß, der beginnt von seiner Quelle an zu fließen, er heißt zuerst Poik. Dann verschwindet er in ein Loch hinein, ist nicht mehr sichtbar. Nach einiger Zeit kommt er wieder hervor. Es ist derselbe Fluß, er ist nur unter der Erde weitergeflossen. Dann, in seinem weiteren Lauf, heißt er Unz. Dann verschwindet er wieder, fließt wiederum unterirdisch, kommt wieder hervor, und dann hat der den Namen Laibach. Er kommt immer wieder heraus; es ist dasselbe Wasser, nur daß es zuweilen unter der Erde fließt. So ist es mit dem Menschenleben. Es gibt etwas im menschlichen Leben im zweiten, dritten, vierten, fünften, sechsten, siebenten Lebensjahr und auch während der Schulzeit, das ist die Spielneigung des Kindes. Alles was zum Spiel des Kindes gehört, ist besonders lebhaft in diesem Lebensalter. Dann geht es so wie dieser Fluß in die Untergründe des menschlichen Lebens hinunter. Man sieht dann, wenn die Geschlechtsreife kommt, wenn andere Dinge kommen, diesen Spieltrieb nicht mehr in der gleichen Art wirksam. Aber dann, wenn die Zwanzigerjahre kommen, dann kommt dasselbe, was im Spiel wirksam war, wiederum heraus. Es ist aber jetzt nicht mehr als Spieltrieb wirksam; es ist jetzt etwas anderes. Es ist jetzt die Art und Weise geworden, wie der Mensch sich ins Leben hineinfinden kann. Und in der Tat ist es so: wenn man das Kind in der richtigen Weise nach seinen besonderen Anlagen spielen läßt, wenn man ihm die richtigen Spiele beibringt, dann wird das Kind sich in der richtigen Weise dem Leben anpassen können. Wenn man etwas verfehlt mit Bezug auf die Natur des Kindes in den Spielen, die man an das Kind heranbringt, so wird das Kind auch ungeschickt sein, sich in das Leben hineinzustellen. - So hängen die Sachen zusammen: Dasjenige, was Spieltrieb ist, die besondere Art, wie das Kind spielt, die verschwindet, versickert im Leben. Dann tritt sie wieder an die Oberfläche, sie ist aber jetzt etwas anderes, sie ist jetzt Lebensgeschicklichkeit, Anpassungsfähigkeit an das Leben. Das Leben hängt durchaus durch alle Lebensalter in sich zusammen. Dieses muß man wissen, damit man das Kind in der richtigen Weise unterrichtet und erzieht.
Da ist zum Beispiel ein ganz wichtiger Zeitpunkt im Leben des Kindes, bald liegt er ein bißchen früher, bald liegt er ein bißchen später, aber immer ungefähr zwischen dem neunten und zehnten Lebensjahr. In diesem Lebenspunkt, da kommt viel, viel darauf an, daß ein richtiges Achtungsgefühl, ein richtiges Verehrungsgefühl zu dem Lehrer vorhanden ist. Das soll sonst natürlich auch vorhanden sein, aber in diesem Lebenspunkte entscheidet sich für das Kind etwas ganz wesentliches. Es ist das wirklich von einer außerordentlich großen Bedeutung. Deshalb ist ja pädagogische Kunst etwas sehr schwer zu Erringendes, sie beruht auf einer gründlichen Menschenkenntnis. Vieles, was beim Menschen auftritt in viel späteren Lebensaltern, wodurch der Mensch oft ganz unglücklich wird, wodurch er sich nicht hineinfinden kann ins Leben, untüchtig zur Arbeit wird, ja sogar auch Neigungen zu physischen Krankheiten entwickeln kann - man glaubt das heute nicht, es ist aber so -, das rührt alles davon her, daß das Kind nicht richtig zwischen dem neunten und zehnten Jahr behandelt worden ist. Bis zu diesem neunten bis zehnten Jahr muß man versuchen, das Kind möglichst mit solchem Unterrichtsstoff zu beschäftigen, der es nicht dazu zwingt, viel über sich nachzudenken, sondern über die Dinge, die draußen im Leben sind. Und zwischen dem neunten und zehnten Jahr muß man anfangen, ihm Begriffe, Vorstellungen beizubringen von Pflanzen und Tieren so, daß es von einem solchen Nachdenken über die Welt den Übergang findet zu einem Nachdenken über sich selber. Daraufhin muß aller Unterricht gestaltet werden, daß man richtig in den betreffenden Zeitpunkten, in denen gewissermaßen die innere Natur des Kindes es fordert, mit einer Sache einsetzt.
Ich deute Ihnen das jetzt nur mit ein paar Worten an, was tatsächlich eine ausgebildete Menschenkenntnis ist, die aus der Geisteswissenschaft folgt, und die eigentlich erst möglich macht, eine wirkliche pädagogische Kunst zu entfalten. Diese auf wirkliche geisteswissenschaftliche Menschenerkenntnis aufgebaute pädagogische Kunst soll die ganze Waldorfschule beherrschen; sie soll der Geist sein, der in der Waldorfschule waltet. Und wir glauben in der Tat, daß vieles von dem, was so schmerzlich ist in der Gegenwart, danach schreit, die nächste Generation durch eine solche Erziehung tüchtig zu machen. Und wir glauben, daß diejenigen Eltern wirklich verstehen, was die heutige Zeit fordert, die verständnisvoll ihre Kinder einer solchen Schule anvertrauen, die aus wirklicher, gründlicher Menschenkenntnis heraus eingerichtet ist. Und aus einem solchen Verhältnis der Eltern zur Schule, das zu unserem ganzen Wirken dazugehört, entsteht dasjenige, was wir in der Schule brauchen. Wenn das Kind des Morgens in die Schule hineinkommt so, daß die Eltern, die selbst aus diesem Verständnis heraus die richtige Liebe zur Schule haben, das Kind entlassen in dieser Liebe, dann wird es auch dasjenige in der rechten Weise erleben können, was ihm vor allen Dingen entgegengebracht werden soll, wenn es die Schultüre aufmacht und den Lehrer, die Lehrerin trifft mit jener Liebe, aus der doch allein dasjenige entspringen kann, was ein wirklich richtiger Unterricht und eine richtige Erziehung ist.
Indem man einsetzt im richtigen Moment mit dem, was gerade in den Fähigkeiten, den Anlagen des Kindes liegt, bringt man dieses dazu, daß dasjenige, was da eingesetzt hat, dem Kinde für das ganze Leben hindurch ein Erfrischungsquell ist. Und wenn die Eltern unserer Kinder das einsehen, daß wir ja eigentlich arbeiten wollen, um in den nächsten Jahrzehnten Menschen hinzustellen, die für das immer schwerer werdende Leben tüchtig sind, die aber auch noch Fragen haben können an das Leben, dann stehen die Eltern in der richtigen Weise zu unserer Schule. Denn wir müssen auf diesem Verständnis der Eltern aufbauen. Wir können nicht in derselben Weise wie andere Schulen, geschützt durch den Staat und durch alle möglichen Autoritäten, wirken. Wir können allein wirken, wenn wir einer verständnisvollen Elterngemeinschaft gegenüberstehen. Wenn wir in dem Bewußtsein desjenigen, was wir an den Kindern in der Schule haben, die wir aus echter Menschenkenntnis heraus unterrichten wollen und aus einem Verständnis desjenigen, was vom Unterrichtsstoff gerade verwendet werden kann in irgendeiner Zeit, immer versuchen, diesen Kindern das Beste zu geben, das ihnen gegeben werden soll, dann brauchen wir diese Schule umwallt von dem Elternverständnis wie von den Mauern einer Festung. In dem Bewußtsein können unsere Lehrer am besten unterrichten. Wir hier lieben unsere Kinder, wir unterrichten aus Menschenverständnis und Kinderliebe heraus, und um uns herum baut sich auf eine andere Liebe, die Liebe der Eltern zu diesem unserem Schulwesen. In dieser Gemeinschaft nur können wir gegenüber dem, was heute an Unverstand und auch an bedenklicher Sittenentfaltung vorhanden ist, wirklich weiter arbeiten zu einer gedeihlichen Menschenzukunft.
Denn dasjenige, was gearbeitet werden soll in diesem Sinne, es mag heute mit einer kleinen Gemeinde sein; aber es kann viel werden aus dieser kleinen Gemeinde, wenn sie gerade immer mit richtigem Verständnis dieser Schule gegenübersteht.
Unsere Lehrer brauchen solch ein Bewußtsein, weil sie ja nicht irgendwie im Hintergrund haben all diejenigen Zwangsmaßregeln, die die Lehrer anderer Schulen haben. Aber aus dem Zwang heraus wird niemals im menschlichen Leben etwas Vernünftiges gewirkt. Damit wir in Freiheit wirken können, brauchen wir ein Verständnis des freien Wirkens bei der Elternschaft. Und indem sich wirklich jetzt schon eine recht stattliche Anzahl von Menschen gefunden haben, die ihre Kinder in die Waldorfschule schicken, zeigt sich eben, daß ein solches Verständnis wenigstens seinen Anfang genommen hat. Man möchte allerdings, daß es sich immer weiter und weiter verbreitete, daß immer mehr und mehr Menschen einsehen würden, daß etwas Tüchtiges doch nur erreicht werden kann durch eine echte, wahre Erziehungskunst. Aber wir wollen insbesondere an solchen Abenden wie dem heutigen immerhin froh sein, daß wir uns so zusammenfinden können in dem Geiste, in dem wir uns sagen: Wir wollen eine bessere Menschheitszukunft dadurch herbeiführen, daß wir mit denen zusammenarbeiten, die die kommenden Generationen im Sinne echter Menschenkenntnis und Menschenliebe erziehen und unterrichten wollen.
Es kann selbstverständlich nicht gleich im ersten Anhub dasjenige erreicht werden, auch beim besten Willen nicht, was uns als Ideal vorschwebt; allein immerhin ist einiges erreicht worden. Auch das Verständnis wird nicht gleich anfangs ein ganz durchdringendes sein können. Manches wird leicht mißverstanden werden können. Man wird unter Umständen sagen können: Ja, in dieser Schule wird manches Kind zu wenig geprügelt, denn manchem Kind sind schon entweder wirkliche oder figürliche Prügel durchaus notwendig. - Ja, man sagt so etwas manchmal eben nicht aus gründlicher Menschenkenntnis und Menschenliebe heraus; denn es gibt Methoden, die, wenn sie auch manchmal langsamer wirken, doch sicherer das Gute im Menschen entwickeln als irgendwelche unnatürlichen Zwangsmaßregeln. Und für manches muß eben nach und nach erst ein Verständnis errungen werden.
Sehen Sie, mir wurde neulich gesagt, daß ein Junge, der zu uns in die Schule gekommen ist und recht nachgedacht hat und auch wirklich bei uns etwas Gründliches lernt, gesagt hat: Ich weiß gar nicht, ich war früher in einer anderen Schule - er ist erst vor kurzem eingetreten -, da hat man Rechnen, Mathematik, Geometrie und alles mögliche gelernt; und nun soll ich doch ein tüchtiger Mensch werden; aber in dieser Schule lerne ich ja gar keine Mathematik; was soll denn aus mir werden, wenn ich gar keine Mathematik lerne? - Woher war das gekommen, daß der Junge geglaubt hat, er lerne keine Mathematik? Sehen Sie, wir möchten es dahin bringen, natürliche Verhältnisse in bezug auf dasjenige heranzubilden, was in anderen Schulen der sogenannte Stundenplan erreichen soll. Da wird das Kind von Schulgegenstand zu Schulgegenstand getrieben; es kommt überhaupt nicht zu irgendeinem Konzentrieren. Wir lehren, damit das Kind sich ganz hineinfindet, Wochen hindurch denselben Gegenstand durch die ganze Hauptschulzeit, je zwei Stunden vormittags; wir gehen nicht von Stunde zu Stunde immer von Gegenstand zu Gegenstand; wir wechseln erst nach einiger Zeit mit dem Gegenstand. Nun ist der Junge gerade in einer Zeit gekommen, wo die Mathematik nicht dran war. Da hat er geglaubt, er würde überhaupt keine Mathematik lernen. Später merkt er natürlich, daß er Mathematik konzentriert lernt, indem nicht gehetzt wird von Stunde zu Stunde zu etwas anderem, so daß er nun die Mathematik um so gründlicher lernt. Solche Mißver-. ständnisse können leicht vorkommen, auch wenn sie nicht, wie in diesem Fall, auf der flachen Hand liegen. Da muß man sagen: Wenn manches natürlich in der Waldorfschule anders ausschaut, als man es gewöhnt ist von früher her, so soll man nicht allzu schnell urteilen.
Die Dinge, die bei uns gepflegt werden, sind wirklich aus dem herausgeholt, was ich Menschenkenntnis genannt habe. Und das ist eben gerade das Charakteristische unserer Schule. Deshalb ist es ja auch, daß im Grunde genommen, soviel wir sehen können, die Kinder außerordentlich gern in die Schule kommen. Ich komme ja immer von Zeit zu Zeit in die Schule und nehme am Unterricht teil. Wir streben an, so aus der Natur des Kindes heraus zu arbeiten, daß das Kind gewissermaßen das Gefühl erhält: Ich möchte ja das wissen, das können, was ich da wissen und können soll - und daß es nicht das Gefühl hat, es werde ihm etwas aufgezwungen. Das muß man natürlich für jeden Schulgegenstand, weil ja jeder anders ist, wiederum in einer besonderen Weise herausbilden.
Und dann muß der ganze Unterricht durchdrungen sein von einem gewissen Erziehungsprinzip. Das läßt sich nur dadurch gewinnen, daß der Lehrer selber ganz im geistigen Leben drinnen steht. Das kann er nicht, wenn er nicht auch die Verantwortlichkeit kennt gegenüber dem geistigen Leben. Aber, meine sehr verehrten Anwesenden, die große Verantwortlichkeit gegenüber dem geistigen Leben, die hat man nur dann, wenn sie einem nicht ersetzt werden soll durch ein bloß äußerliches Verantwortlichkeitsgefühl. Wenn man sich bloß richtet nach dem, was Verordnung ist für jedes Schuljahr, dann glaubt man sich auch frei von der Notwendigkeit, von Woche zu Woche erlebend darüber nachzuforschen, was man mit Bezug auf den einzelnen Gegenstand in der Schule vorzunehmen hat, und wie man es vorzunehmen hat. Dieses immer fort und fort aus dem lebendigen geistigen Quell Herausschöpfen, das ist das, was unseren Lehrern eigen sein soll. Da muß man sich dem geistigen Leben gegenüber verantwortlich fühlen. Dann muß man das geistige Leben frei wissen, dann muß die Schule Selbstverwaltung haben, dann darf nicht der Lehrer ein Beamter sein; er muß vollständig sein eigener Herr sein; denn er erkennt einen erhabeneren Herren an als eine äußere Instanz, das geistige Leben selber, zu dem er in einer unmittelbaren Beziehung steht, nicht durch Schulbehörden, durch Rektoren oder Schulinspektoren oder Oberschulräte, Studienräte und so weiter hindurch. Ein wirklich freies Schulleben hat dieses direkte Inbeziehungstehen zu den Quellen des geistigen Lebens notwendig. Denn nur wenn man dieses in sich hat, kann man auch den geistigen Quell im Schulzimmer den Kindern vermitteln. Das streben wir immer mehr und mehr an, das wollen wir. Und wir haben selbst in der Zeit, in der wir gewirkt haben, von Monat zu Monat sorgfältig geprüft, wie unsere Grundsätze, unsere Kunstregeln bei den Kindern wirken. Und in den folgenden Jahren wird manches schon unter anderen Gesichtspunkten, unter vollkommeneren Gesichtspunkten sich vollziehen als im vorhergehenden. Und so möchten wir gerade aus einem unmittelbaren Leben, wie das nicht anders sein kann, wenn es aus geistigen Untergründen heraus fließt, diese Schule leiten.
Fürchten Sie durchaus nicht, daß wir aus dieser Schule eine Weltanschauungsschule machen wollen und etwa anthroposophische oder andere Dogmen den Kindern eintrichtern wollen. Das fällt uns nicht ein. Wer so etwas sagen würde, daß wir den Kindern gewisse Dinge, die gerade anthroposophische Überzeugungen sind, beibringen wollen, der würde nicht die Wahrheit sagen. Wir wollen vielmehr gerade aus dem, was uns Anthroposophie ist, eine pädagogische Kunst entwickeln. Das «Wie» im Unterricht, das ist es, was wir gewinnen wollen aus unserer geistigen Erkenntnis. Nicht wollen wir den Kindern dasjenige eintrichtern, was wir meinen, sondern wir glauben eben, daß sich Geisteswissenschaft von jeder anderen Wissenschaftsart dadurch unterscheidet, daß sie den ganzen Menschen ausfüllt, ihn auf allen Gebieten geschickt macht, vor allen Dingen in bezug auf die Behandlung von Menschen. Auf dieses «Wie» wollen wir sehen, nicht auf das «Was». Das «Was» ergibt sich aus den sozialen Notwendigkeiten; das muß man mit vollem Interesse ablesen an dem, was der Mensch wissen und können soll, wenn er sich als tüchtiger Mensch in die Zeit hineinstellen soll. Aber das «Wie», wie den Kindern etwas beizubringen ist, das ergibt sich nur aus einer gründlichen, tiefen und liebevollen Menschenerkenntnis. Die soll walten und wirken in unserer Waldorfschule.
Das ist es, was ich heute gerne sagen wollte, meine lieben Freunde, um darauf hinzuweisen, wie wir auf der einen Seite in den Eltern unserer Kinder wirklich herzliche Freunde unserer Schule brauchen. Je mehr wir denken können, daß diese Eltern herzliche Freunde unserer Schule sind, desto besser, desto kraftvoller wird dasjenige geleistet werden können, was wir in dieser Schule leisten wollen. - Wir brauchen in unserer Lehrerschaft und in all denjenigen, die mit unserem Unterrichten verbunden sind, ein fortwährendes Leben in Liebe zum Lehren, in Liebe zur Kinderbehandlung. Es wird diese dadurch erreicht, daß hinter unserer Lehrerschaft und hinter allen denen, die mit unserer Schule zu tun haben, ein wirkliches, geistiges Leben steht, ein geistiges Leben, das es ehrlich und aufrichtig mit dem geistigen, dem wirtschaftlichen, dem staatlichen Aufschwung und Fortschritt der Menschheit meint. Es wird dadurch erreicht, daß diese Gesinnung des Unterrichtens, daß die Geschicklichkeit in der Unterrichtskunst, wie sie in unserer Schule wirken sollen, umgeben sind von dem Wall, den verständnisvoll uns entgegenkommende, unserer Schule in herzlicher Freundschaft zugetane Eltern bilden. Haben wir diese, dann, meine lieben Freunde, wird das Werk unserer Schule gelingen, und wir können überzeugt sein, meine lieben, verehrten Anwesenden, daß, indem wir Gutes tun an unserer Schule, an Ihren Kindern, wir auch zu gleicher Zeit ein Gutes tun an der ganzen Menschheit, wie sie sich in die Zukunft hinein entwickeln soll. Denn ein richtiges Erziehungswerk, ein richtiges Schulwerk tun, heißt zu gleicher Zeit ein ernstes, wahres Werk des Menschenfortschritts tun.
Aussprache am Elternabend
Herr Molt dankt Herrn Dr. Steiner für seinen Vortrag und fordert die Eltern auf, Fragen und Wünsche vorzubringen.
Es wurde nun darüber geklagt, daß die Kinder in der zweiten Klasse noch nicht so gut lesen können wie in der Volksschule, und daß die Kinder durch den epochenweisen Unterricht immer wieder den Zusammenhang mit dem Durchgenommenen verlieren.
Dr. Steiner erwidert:
Was das Lesen und Schreiben zur rechten Zeit anbetrifft, so möchte ich noch folgendes sagen: Es ist ja gewiß nach den Gewohnheiten, die man heute hat, etwas deprimierend, wenn man sieht, daß ein Kind schon in die zweite Klasse geht und noch nicht richtig abplappern kann dasjenige, was da in kleinen Gespenstern auf dem Papier steht. Aber dem steht manche Erfahrung gegenüber, die besseres lehrt. - Es ist ja nicht notwendig, daß man das Leben nur nach ganz kurzen Zeiträumen beurteilt. Ich habe Menschen kennengelernt, die haben etwa im achtzehnten, neunzehnten Jahr außerordentlich gut ihr Lesen und Schreiben verwendet in geschickter Anwendung, weil sie zum Beispiel gezwungen waren, früh einen Beruf zu ergreifen; das bringt das Leben ja manchmal mit sich. Ich habe solche Menschen beobachtet, die sich geschickt früh in einen Beruf eingeordnet haben, und ich habe solche kennengelernt, die sich ungeschickt in einen Beruf eingeordnet haben. Nun forschen Sie nach bei denjenigen, die sich, durch das Leben gezwungen, irgendwie in einen Beruf hineinstellen müssen, ob die im achtzehnten, neunzehnten Jahr Geschickten nun diejenigen sind, die ganz früh, viel zu früh herplappern gelernt haben das, was in kleinen Gespenstern auf dem Papier steht, oder ob es diejenigen sind, die das etwas später gelernt haben. Es handelt sich doch darum, daß für das Leben in der richtigen Weise die Sachen gelernt werden. Und das ist dasjenige, was gerade bei unserer Methode sorgfältig eingehalten wird. Ich möchte, daß Sie darauf aufmerksam würden, daß man überhaupt manchmal die Dinge nicht im richtigen Lebenszusammenhang beobachtet. Ich habe Menschen kennengelernt, die einen sehr, sehr guten Stil hatten, die gute Briefe schrieben. Da konnte man dann nachforschen: Welchem Umstande verdanken sie das? Und ich muß Ihnen ganz offen gestehen, daß sich mir ergeben hat: es waren meistens solche Menschen, die im achten, neunten Jahr noch die gräßlichsten Fehler gemacht haben. Sie haben dann im zehnten, elften Jahr erst gelernt, diese Fehler abzulegen. Dadurch sind sie gerade zu einer ganz besonderen Tüchtigkeit gekommen. Diese Dinge sind eben kompliziert, und man muß schon darauf sehen, wie unsere Unterrichtsmethode eben aus einer dürchgreifenden Menschenkenntnis hervorgeht. Dann wird man sich daran gewöhnen, daß manches an die Kinder zu anderen Zeiten herantritt, als man es sonst gewöhnt ist. Nicht wahr, wenn es immer so gewesen wäre, daß man als strenge Regel aufgestellt hätte: Es ist schädlich, daß ein Kind vor dem achten Jahr schon lesen kann, dann würden heute die Leute sich nicht darüber wundern, daß es noch nicht lesen kann. Jetzt findet man es schlimm. Aber da liegt ja eben das, was Sie eben selbst gesagt haben: Die Waldorfschule soll eben zum Richtigen hinführen und nicht mit dem Falschen Kompromisse schließen.
Was nun darüber gesagt worden ist, daß das Kind erst wiederum mit Mühe an einen Lehrgegenstand herangebracht werden muß, nachdem es etwas aus der Sache herausgekommen ist, da handelt es sich darum, daß man nicht gerade nach der nächstliegenden Schulzeit den Erfolg der Schule beurteilen soll. Es ist im geistigen Leben auch etwas Ähnliches notwendig wie im natürlichen Leben. Da kann man auch nicht immer wach sein, da muß man schlafen. Und wenn man nicht schläft, so kann man auch auf die Dauer nicht ordentlich wachen. Wenn ein Kind ein paar Jahre nach dieser Unterrichtsmethode - nach der also nicht immer in gleichmäßiger Weise fortgemacht wird, sondern wo die Dinge auch wiederum ein bißchen aus dem Gesichtskreis herausrücken - erzogen wird, dann werden Sie sich überzeugen können, mit welcher Gründlichkeit die Dinge angeeignet werden. Sie werden nach ein paar Jahren wahrscheinlich ein anderes Urteil bekommen, als nach dem unmittelbaren Eindruck jetzt. Wir sind ja natürlich dem ausgesetzt, daß wir in manchem jetzt mißverstanden werden; aber es wird gerade das vielleicht, was man jetzt etwas befremdlich findet, was man schwierig findet für manche Kinder, sich im Lauf der Jahre bewähren. Darauf müssen wir sehen.
Zwei weitere Fragen gingen dahin, ob die Schüler in der Waldorfschule das Abitur machen können und ob nicht doch Hausarbeiten aufgegeben werden könnten.
Dr. Steiner erwiderte darauf:
Wir haben ja durchaus das Prinzip, den Kindern nicht etwa die Möglichkeit zu nehmen, sich in das Leben, wie es heute einmal ist, hineinzustellen. Daher ist von mir selbst der Grundsatz aufgestellt worden, und der wird ja durchgeführt, insbesondere in den wichtigsten Punkten so gut es nur eben geht: Dasjenige was wir tun müssen von pädagogischen und didaktischen Gesichtpunkten aus, das muß damit vereinigt werden, daß das Kind auch so ins Leben hineingeführt wird, daß ihm äußerlich keine Schwierigkeiten erwachsen. Daher ist von mir ausgearbeitet worden eine Art von Lehrverfassung, die diesen beiden Dingen Rechnung trägt. Wir unterrichten ohne Rücksicht darauf, welche Lehrziele für die einzelnen Klassen in den anderen Schulen zunächst für die Kinder bis zum neunten Lebensjahr, bis zum Absolvieren der dritten Klasse aufgestellt sind. Nicht wahr, man muß einen gewissen Spielraum haben, damit man in ihm das, was aus einer wirklichen Erkenntnis der Bedürfnisse des Kindes folgt, und was eine wirkliche Pädagogik fordern muß, erfüllen kann. Dann, nach diesem Spielraum, kann man dem Rechnung tragen, was nun heute einmal aus allerlei Untergründen und Gesetzen heraus gefordert wird. Also im neunten Lebensjahr wollen wir das Kind soweit haben, daß es in jede andere Schule übertreten kann. Dann wiederum lassen wir uns Spielraum bis zum zwölften Jahr, damit wir für diese Zeit ordentlich Pädagogik treiben können. Im zwölften Jahr kann also wieder jedes Kind in eine andere Schule übertreten. Und so soll es auch wiederum sein nach dem fünfzehnten Lebensjahr und auch weiterhin bis zum Abitur. Wenn wir so glücklich sind, immer wieder eine Klasse auf die Schule aufsetzen zu können, und die Kinder bis zu dem Abitur zu bringen, so werden sie in dem Alter, wo sie sonst das Abitur machen, so weit sein, daß sie dieses Examen werden machen können. Es kann ja natürlich sein, daß irgendwo ein Examinator sitzt, der sagt: Die jungen Leute aus der Waldorfschule können selbstverständlich nichts. - Man kann jemand immer durchfallen lassen, wenn man will; man kann dem Dümmsten ein ausgezeichnetes Zeugnis geben und den Gescheiten durchfallen lassen. Für solche Fälle kann nicht gesorgt werden. Aber im Prinzip muß das statthaben, daß wir dasjenige, was wir besser machen können als draußen, besser machen, trotzdem wir keine Steine dem Kinde in den Weg legen in bezug auf die äußeren Lebensforderungen. Es ist dies allerdings doch ein Surrogat — besser wäre es, wenn wir auch Hochschulen einrichten könnten. Das kann eben nicht sein, daher müssen wir uns auf diesem Gebiete mit einem Surrogat begnügen.
Man sollte nie außer acht lassen, was es für eine wirkliche Erziehungskunst bedeutet, wenn Kinder etwas aufgetragen bekommen, was dann nicht zu erzwingen ist. Es ist viel, viel besser, wenn man mit Zwangshausaufgaben haushält, so daß man darauf rechnen kann, daß dasjenige, was die Kinder zu tun haben, wirklich auch mit Lust und aus Überzeugung heraus getan wird, als wenn man fortwährend Aufgaben gibt, und dann Kinder darunter sind, die die Aufgaben doch nicht machen. Es ist das allerschädlichste in der Erziehung, wenn immerfort Aufträge erteilt werden, die nicht ausgeführt werden. Das demoralisiert die Kinder in furchtbarer Weise. Und diese feineren Erziehungsgrundsätze sollte man besonders beachten. - Kinder, die arbeiten wollen, die haben genügend zu tun; aber man sollte nicht versuchen, nach dieser Richtung irgendeinen Zwang auszuüben von seiten der Schule. Man sollte sich vielmehr bemühen, das Kind anzuhalten zum freiwilligen Arbeiten, wenn man durchaus will, daß die Kinder zu Hause arbeiten. Es wird genügend da sein, was das Kind arbeiten kann. Aber es sollte nicht die Tendenz dahingehen, die Grundsätze einer wirklich sachgemäßen Erziehungskunst dadurch zu durchkreuzen, daß man doch wieder auf den Zwang hinarbeiten möchte.
Address at the Parents' Evening
My dear friends, distinguished guests! You have chosen the Waldorf School, which has now been in existence for more than a year, to entrust your children to for their education. If we want to communicate in a few brief remarks—more is not possible in such a short time—about the methods and teaching style, the type of education at the Waldorf School, it is best to start by mentioning what we need much more at the Waldorf School than at any other school. If we want to progress in the right way, we need more than in any other school a trusting cooperation with the parents. Our teachers are entirely dependent on finding this trusting cooperation with the children's parents. For our school is built through and through on spiritual freedom – by which I do not mean, of course, some fantastical spiritual freedom for the children. Our school presents itself in general cultural life as a free school in the best sense of the word. Just consider how school life today is otherwise presented to the public through coercion, through public authority. It is conceived entirely from the institutions of the state; it is intended to serve only the institutions of the state, and above all to supply the state with the kind of people it needs. The Waldorf School was founded on the recognition that this is not in the interests of truly healthy human development. Its primary purpose is to serve healthy human development. All teaching and education at the Waldorf School should be based on healthy human development.
You see, people today very often say that the individuality of the child should be developed in school, that nothing should be crammed into the child, but rather that what is within the child should be brought out. — That is a very fine principle. There are many such fine principles in the educational literature of the 19th and 20th centuries. For this educational literature, from which teachers are supposed to learn how to teach, is not bad at all in abstract terms. A great deal of good has been said about education by all kinds of very philanthropic people; but it cannot be said that these good intentions are always reflected in what can be called teaching practice and educational practice. And that is actually what matters to us at the Waldorf School: to develop a genuine, true educational practice and teaching practice. And I believe that by cultivating spiritual life, as we do in our circles, we can discover a true educational practice and teaching practice. For this cultivation of spiritual life should enable us to get to know human beings better than any other kind of cultivation of spiritual life. And this should apply not only to adults, but also to the developing human being, the child.
We often believe that we know these developing human beings in the right way. Certainly, there is a human relationship in which, at least as a rule, and indeed more often than one might think among those who are not familiar with children, there is a very good understanding of the developing human being, the child. This is the relationship of the father and mother to the child. The relationship of the father and mother to the child is a natural one. It is one in which one grows into living together with the child. One does the right thing out of a certain feeling. Certainly, one sometimes does something wrong, but that is then more or less due to unnatural circumstances, to an unnatural development of the right fatherly and motherly feelings.
But when the child reaches the age when its teeth begin to change, it can no longer rely on what the parental home can offer it, for otherwise there would be no need for schools. Then the child has to go to school. And then it is a matter of the child receiving an education and being able to approach teaching in which, based on a conscious understanding of the child's nature, the human being, the human being in the making, can be guided toward life. But for this to happen, the teacher, the educator, must have a real understanding of the human being. And a real knowledge of human beings actually requires a life of the noblest scientificity, the scientificity of the soul. A real knowledge of human beings requires a free, penetrating view of the whole world. For human beings are shaped by the whole world. And those who cannot attach themselves to the world with a warm interest in knowledge cannot look into the human mind, especially not into the human mind that is only just maturing in the child into a whole human being. And those who cannot feel all that exists in the world in physical terms, all that governs the world in spiritual terms, all that the world contains in spiritual terms, cannot recognize the essence of the child; for in the child there is still something of the mysterious influence of that which the human being brings with them when they come down from completely different worlds, from spiritual worlds, to their parents and take on a body from them. When one observes the child in the first years of life, from week to week, from month to month, the most wonderful thing in the whole world comes to pass; when one observes how something initially indeterminate grows spiritually through the child's physicality, how the indeterminate features, which still bear something of the purely natural, are shaped by the inner spirit and soul; how the soul gradually emerges through the eyes, which look into life with ever greater understanding, revealing the most wonderful secrets of the world. It is then something quite wonderful to see how the child grows together with its environment, how it almost completely imitates what it sees in its environment in what it does in a still clumsy way; how it finally grows together with its environment in learning to speak. The first seven years of a child's life are entirely devoted to this growing together with its environment. And then, when the child is taken over by the school at about the time when the change of teeth approaches, everything that is done with the child must be based on this knowledge of human nature. But it must also be based on something else.
One may believe that one knows the nature of the developing human being. But one must draw from this nature of the developing human being that which will then enable the child to read, write, and do arithmetic. One soon realizes how complicated true knowledge of human nature is. One may have learned how to teach reading, writing, and so on in a methodical way in the teacher training colleges. One can then endeavor to apply what one has learned there, and one can even do so very well to a certain extent in an intelligent manner; and yet: one achieves nothing in teaching and education at school unless there is a very specific relationship between the teacher and the child, a relationship of genuine love between the teacher and the child and between the child and the teacher. This is what we really want to cultivate in our Waldorf school; we want to cultivate it as something that is just as necessary pedagogically and didactically as mere external skill. We want an atmosphere of love to live in every class, and we want teaching to be given from this atmosphere of love.
But this love cannot be dictated. It is not enough to preach about this love in teacher training colleges, the preparatory institutions for the teaching profession. Love cannot be taught so easily. But as a teacher, you actually need more love than you need for other aspects of life. You see, the amount of love that people otherwise muster for their children, even if it is a large group, is small compared to what is necessary for a teacher; after all, one does not have as many children as a teacher usually has to teach in a class. Then, later in life, one brings in the love of a man for a woman, of a woman for a man, and that is also something that should be kept within a narrower circle, because it is not good if this love is shared too much among many personalities; there is always that which should flow out of human beings into life as love, distributed among relatively few people. Certainly, one can and should love all people, but this remains within certain limits. One can only serve the word to a certain degree: Be embraced, millions!
But the same degree of love, albeit perhaps in a slightly different form, as that which parents have for their children, a man for his beloved wife, a woman for her beloved husband – the same love, just as intense, must absolutely be felt by the teacher for the children; translated more into the soul, more into the spirit, but it must be there. This love is not innate, but must come from something completely different. It must come from a science, from knowledge; but from a science that is not as dry, as abstract as natural science or any other science today, as indeed the whole of scientific life is, which rubs off on education with its dryness and sobriety. This love can only come from a science that truly deals with the spirit, that reveals the spirit. For where a science gives the spirit, it also gives love. And so the cultivation of the spiritual, the spiritual science that led to the founding of the Waldorf school, gives teachers this real love. And that is what is needed, that is what everything must be based on. The most natural methods in school must be based on this love. It is the spirit of understanding the world and this spirit of love that above all else must be present in the teaching we cultivate in Waldorf schools, in the education we want to give in Waldorf schools. And that cannot be done with general phrases; it can only be done if one knows how to apply what one knows about the development of the child, month by month, year by year, in detail, again and again.
In ordinary teaching today, one begins immediately to introduce the child to something that paralyses the whole healthy development of the human being. Look back at human development. There have been times — and we should not be so arrogant as to consider the people of those times stupid and childish — when people did not yet learn to read and write in the modern sense, but at most a primitive form of arithmetic. Today we learn to read and write, but we do not learn the kind of reading and writing that first developed out of not reading and not writing; instead, today we learn something that has already become very intellectual and conventional. Basically, the child is introduced in a completely artificial way to something foreign to him or her when we simply teach him or her to read and write in the way that is common in human communication today. When you get the child in the first year of school, you have to be careful not to force-feed them what the grown-ups are supposed to be able to do. And this brings me straight to something that our esteemed Mr. Molt has already pointed out, namely that in Waldorf schools, children learn to read and write a little later than in other schools. There are good reasons for this. Teaching children to read and write at an early age in other schools is a mistake in many respects. For it is not a question of teaching children certain skills as quickly as possible, but of enabling them to become capable people in later life who do not make their own lives miserable or difficult for themselves. External circumstances can make life difficult enough for many people; there is no need for an inner feeling of weakness or inadequacy to arise and make life even more difficult. A method must be found to teach reading and writing in a very careful manner, based on the natural inclinations and abilities of the children.
We assume – I just want to mention this – that we first let the child draw certain shapes so that the shapes that form letters can develop from these shapes. We let the child start with writing in order to move on to reading. The more we start from what is inherent in the whole person, the better it is for the child's development. Reading and writing, as we adults use them for human communication or for absorbing things of intellectual and other kinds of life, are such that in reading the signs that make up our words, the signs for our letters, have already become something quite conventional. Older peoples still had a pictorial script; there was something vivid about this pictorial script. There was still a connection between what was expressed in writing and what was to be expressed. In our letters, nothing of what is to be expressed can be recognized anymore. Therefore, if we teach children letters in the way they have developed over a long period of time, we are forcing them to learn something that is foreign to them. We must guide them sensibly and intelligently from what they like to draw, what they do with their whole being, to the shapes of letters. Only then can we develop reading from this.
With this example, I just wanted to show you what our pedagogical art aims to achieve: to really read what should be done with the developing human being. Those who know human nature know very well how things in life are connected. What is most important is often observed very little in life. In life, one often encounters people, and today there are more of them than one might think, who take no real pleasure in anything, who tire terribly easily, who age prematurely, at least inwardly and emotionally, and so on. People do not realize where this comes from. It stems from the fact that children have not been taught to read and write in the right way in their sixth, seventh, and eighth years. Those who know human nature know that a child who has learned to read in the right way, who has not been drilled or crammed until the age of seven or eight, but who has learned to read and write in the right, natural way and may therefore have taken a little longer to learn, will have gained something from learning to read and write that will be a real gift for the rest of their life.
Through all kinds of artificial cramming that ignores the child's inclinations and developmental possibilities, it is possible to get a child to read and write by the age of seven and a half; but in many respects, such a child has been psychologically crippled for life. If, on the other hand, the right approach has been taken, the child will not have learned to read and write until the age of eight, but in such a way that learning has awakened life forces within them. And that is what we want. We want the child to gain life force from school that will continue to have an effect on them throughout their entire life.
Today, we find ourselves in a terrible situation, as the inhabitants of Central Europe in particular know only too well. Hardship and misery are certainly not diminishing, but are growing almost daily. And it is fair to say that much of this is simply due to the fact that people are no longer able to find their place in life, to adapt to life. Now, the most important time for people to find their place in life is not during their school years, but much later; it is the time of their twenties, between the ages of twenty and thirty. It is the time that older epochs — which we do not want to and cannot wish back — called the transition from apprenticeship to mastery. There is sometimes something extremely sensible in such transitional designations. It is during this time that people actually grow up completely. They have to find their way in order to become skilled in life. Something happens that I would like to compare with the following. I would like to remind you of an image that I take from nature. There are certain rivers in Carinthia and Carniola; one such river, which begins to flow from its source, is first called Poik. Then it disappears into a hole and is no longer visible. After some time, it reappears. It is the same river, it has only continued to flow underground. Then, in its further course, it is called Unz. Then it disappears again, flows underground again, reappears, and then it has the name Laibach. It keeps coming out again and again; it is the same water, only that it sometimes flows underground. So it is with human life. There is something in human life in the second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh years of life, and also during school years, which is the child's inclination to play. Everything that belongs to the child's play is particularly lively at this age. Then it goes down into the underground of human life, like this river. When sexual maturity arrives, when other things come along, this play instinct is no longer effective in the same way. But then, when the twenties arrive, the same thing that was effective in play comes out again. However, it is no longer effective as a play instinct; it is now something else. It has now become the way in which people can find their way into life. And indeed, if you let the child play in the right way according to its particular aptitudes, if you teach it the right games, then the child will be able to adapt to life in the right way. If you miss the mark with regard to the child's nature in the games you introduce to the child, then the child will also be clumsy in finding its place in life. - This is how things are connected: the play instinct, the particular way in which the child plays, disappears, seeps away in life. Then it resurfaces, but now it is something else, it is now life skills, adaptability to life. Life is interconnected throughout all stages of life. It is important to know this in order to teach and educate children in the right way.
For example, there is a very important moment in a child's life, sometimes a little earlier, sometimes a little later, but always around the age of nine or ten. At this point in life, it is very, very important that the child has a proper sense of respect and admiration for the teacher. Of course, this should also be present at other times, but at this point in life, something very essential is decided for the child. It is really of extraordinary importance. That is why the art of teaching is something very difficult to achieve; it is based on a thorough knowledge of human nature. Much of what occurs in people at much later stages of life, often making them very unhappy, preventing them from finding their place in life, rendering them incapable of work, and even causing them to develop a predisposition to physical illness—people don't believe this today, but it is true—all stems from the fact that the child was not treated properly between the ages of nine and ten. Up to this ninth or tenth year, one must try to occupy the child as much as possible with teaching material that does not force them to think much about themselves, but rather about the things that are out there in life. And between the ages of nine and ten, one must begin to teach them concepts and mental images about plants and animals in such a way that they make the transition from thinking about the world to thinking about themselves. All teaching must be designed in such a way that one begins with a subject at the right moment, when the child's inner nature demands it, so to speak.
I am now only hinting at what is actually a trained knowledge of human nature that follows from spiritual science and that actually makes it possible to develop a true art of education. This art of education, based on a true spiritual scientific knowledge of human nature, should dominate the entire Waldorf school; it should be the spirit that prevails in the Waldorf school. And we truly believe that much of what is so painful in the present cries out for the next generation to be made capable through such an education. And we believe that those parents who understandingly entrust their children to such a school, which is based on real, thorough knowledge of human nature, truly understand what the present time demands. And from such a relationship between parents and the school, which is part of our entire work, arises what we need in the school. When the child enters the school in the morning, and the parents, who themselves have a genuine love for the school based on this understanding, send the child off with this love, then it will also be able to experience in the right way what should be offered to it above all else when it opens the school door and meets the teacher with that love from which alone can spring what is truly right teaching and a right education.
By starting at the right moment with what lies within the child's abilities and aptitudes, one brings about a situation in which what has been started becomes a source of refreshment for the child throughout its whole life. And when the parents of our children realize that we actually want to work to produce people in the coming decades who are capable of coping with an increasingly difficult life, but who can also still ask questions about life, then the parents will support our school in the right way. For we must build on this understanding on the part of the parents. We cannot operate in the same way as other schools, protected by the state and by all kinds of authorities. We can only work if we are faced with an understanding community of parents. If we are conscious of what we have in the children at school, if we want to teach them based on a genuine understanding of human nature and an understanding of what can be used from the teaching material at any given time, and if we always try to give these children the best that can be given to them, then we need this school to be surrounded by parental understanding like the walls of a fortress. With this awareness, our teachers can teach at their best. We here love our children, we teach out of an understanding of human nature and a love for children, and around us another kind of love is building up, the love of parents for our school system. Only in this community can we really continue to work toward a prosperous future for humanity in the face of today's lack of understanding and also the alarming development of morals.
For what needs to be done in this sense may be a small community today, but this small community can become something great if it always approaches this school with the right understanding.
Our teachers need this awareness because they do not have all the coercive measures that teachers in other schools have in the background. But coercion never produces anything sensible in human life. In order for us to work in freedom, we need an understanding of free action on the part of parents. And the fact that a considerable number of people have already decided to send their children to Waldorf schools shows that such an understanding has at least begun to take root. However, we would like to see it spread further and further, so that more and more people would realize that something worthwhile can only be achieved through a genuine, true art of education. But on evenings like tonight, we want to be happy that we can come together in the spirit of saying to ourselves: We want to bring about a better future for humanity by working together with those who want to educate and teach the coming generations in the spirit of genuine knowledge of human nature and love for humanity.
Of course, even with the best will in the world, we cannot achieve our ideal at the first attempt; but at least something has been achieved. Nor will understanding be completely thorough from the outset. Some things may easily be misunderstood. Under certain circumstances, people may say: Yes, in this school, some children are not beaten enough, because for some children, either real or figurative beatings are absolutely necessary. Yes, sometimes people say such things without a thorough knowledge of human nature and love for humanity, because there are methods which, although they may sometimes work more slowly, develop the good in people more reliably than any unnatural coercive measures. And for some things, understanding must first be gained gradually.
You see, I was recently told that a boy who came to our school, who has thought things through and is really learning something thorough with us, said: I don't know, I used to go to another school – he only joined us recently – where we learned arithmetic, mathematics, geometry, and all sorts of things; and now I'm supposed to become a capable person; but in this school I don't learn any math at all; what will become of me if I don't learn any math? Where did this boy get the idea that he wasn't learning math? You see, we want to create natural conditions in relation to what other schools try to achieve with their so-called timetable. There, the child is driven from one school subject to another; there is no concentration whatsoever. We teach so that the child can fully immerse themselves in the subject, spending weeks on the same subject throughout their entire primary school years, two hours each morning; we do not move from subject to subject hour by hour; we only change subjects after some time. Now the boy had just reached a stage where mathematics was not on the timetable. So he believed that he would not be learning mathematics at all. Later, of course, he realized that he was learning mathematics in a concentrated way, because he was not rushing from one subject to another every hour, so that he was now learning mathematics all the more thoroughly. Such misunderstandings can easily occur, even if they are not as obvious as in this case. It must be said that if some things at Waldorf schools look different from what one is used to from the past, one should not judge too quickly.
The things we cultivate are really drawn from what I have called knowledge of human nature. And that is precisely what characterizes our school. That is why, as far as we can see, the children are extremely happy to come to school. I visit the school from time to time and take part in the lessons. We strive to work with the nature of the child in such a way that the child gets the feeling: I want to know and be able to do what I am supposed to know and be able to do – and that they do not feel that something is being forced upon them. Of course, this has to be developed in a special way for each school subject, because each one is different.
And then the entire lesson must be permeated by a certain educational principle. This can only be achieved if the teacher himself is fully immersed in spiritual life. He cannot do this if he is not also aware of his responsibility towards spiritual life. But, ladies and gentlemen, one can only have this great responsibility toward spiritual life if it is not replaced by a merely external sense of responsibility. If one merely follows the regulations for each school year, then one believes oneself to be free from the necessity of investigating from week to week what one has to do with regard to the individual subject in school and how one has to do it. This constant drawing from the living spiritual source is what should be characteristic of our teachers. One must feel responsible toward spiritual life. Then one must know that spiritual life is free, then the school must have self-administration, then the teacher must not be a civil servant; he must be completely his own master, for he recognizes a higher master than an external authority, spiritual life itself, to which he has a direct relationship, not through school authorities, principals, school inspectors, senior school inspectors, teachers, and so on. A truly free school life requires this direct relationship with the sources of spiritual life. For only when one has this within oneself can one also convey the spiritual source to the children in the classroom. We strive for this more and more; this is what we want. And even during the time we were working, we carefully examined from month to month how our principles, our rules of art, were working on the children. And in the years to come, many things will be done from different perspectives, from more complete perspectives than in the past. And so we would like to run this school based on immediate life, as it cannot be otherwise when it flows from spiritual foundations.
Do not fear that we want to turn this school into a school of worldview and drum anthroposophical or other dogmas into the children. That does not occur to us. Anyone who would say that we want to teach children certain things that are specifically anthroposophical beliefs would not be telling the truth. Rather, we want to develop an educational art based precisely on what anthroposophy is to us. The “how” of teaching is what we want to gain from our spiritual knowledge. We do not want to drum into the children what we think, but we believe that spiritual science differs from every other kind of science in that it fills the whole human being, makes him skilled in all areas, especially in relation to the treatment of people. We want to focus on the “how,” not the “what.” The “what” arises from social necessities; it must be determined with keen interest in what people need to know and be able to do if they are to stand their ground as capable individuals in the world today. But the “how,” how to teach children something, can only be derived from a thorough, deep, and loving understanding of human nature. This should prevail and be effective in our Waldorf school.
That is what I wanted to say today, my dear friends, to point out how, on the one hand, we really need the parents of our children to be sincere friends of our school. The more we can think of these parents as warm friends of our school, the better and more powerfully we will be able to achieve what we want to achieve in this school. We need our teachers and all those involved in our teaching to live a continuous life of love for teaching and love for children. This is achieved by ensuring that our teaching staff and all those involved with our school are supported by a genuine spiritual life, a spiritual life that is honest and sincere in its commitment to the spiritual, economic, and political advancement and progress of humanity. It is achieved by the fact that this attitude to teaching, that the skill in the art of teaching, as it should work in our school, is surrounded by the wall formed by parents who are understanding and accommodating and who are devoted to our school in heartfelt friendship. If we have this, then, my dear friends, the work of our school will succeed, and we can be convinced, my dear, esteemed attendees, that by doing good at our school, for your children, we are also doing good for all of humanity as it develops into the future. For to do a proper job of education, a proper job of schooling, means at the same time to do a serious, true work of human progress.
Discussion at the parents' evening
Mr. Molt thanks Dr. Steiner for his lecture and invites the parents to ask questions and make requests.
Complaints were made that the children in the second grade are not yet able to read as well as they did in elementary school, and that the children repeatedly lose track of what they have learned due to the block teaching method.
Dr. Steiner replies:
As far as reading and writing at the right time is concerned, I would like to say the following: According to today's customs, it is certainly somewhat depressing to see that a child is already in second grade and still cannot properly parrot what is written in small letters on the paper. But this is countered by many experiences that teach us better. It is not necessary to judge life only in very short periods of time. I have met people who, at the age of eighteen or nineteen, made exceptionally good use of their reading and writing skills because, for example, they were forced to take up a profession at an early age; that is sometimes what life brings. I have observed such people who have skilfully integrated themselves into a profession at an early age, and I have met others who have integrated themselves into a profession in a clumsy manner. Now, consider those who, forced by life, have to enter a profession somehow. Are those who are skilled at the age of eighteen or nineteen the ones who learned very early, much too early, to parrot what is written in small letters on paper, or are they the ones who learned this a little later? The point is that things are learned in the right way for life. And that is what is carefully adhered to in our method. I would like you to be aware that sometimes things are not observed in the right context of life. I have met people who had a very, very good style, who wrote good letters. One could then investigate: to what circumstances do they owe this? And I must confess to you quite openly that I have found that it was mostly people who still made the most terrible mistakes in the eighth or ninth grade. It was only in the tenth or eleventh grade that they learned to correct these mistakes. This is what gave them their special ability. These things are complicated, and we have to see how our teaching methods are based on a thorough understanding of human nature. Then we will get used to the fact that some things come to children at different times than we are used to. Wouldn't it be true if it had always been the case that a strict rule had been established: It is harmful for a child to be able to read before the age of eight, then people today would not be surprised that they cannot yet read. Nowadays, people think it is terrible. But that is precisely what you yourself have just said: Waldorf schools should lead children to what is right and not compromise with what is wrong.
What has now been said about the fact that the child must first be introduced to a subject with difficulty after it has emerged from the subject matter is that one should not judge the success of the school immediately after the school period. Something similar is necessary in spiritual life as in natural life. One cannot always be awake; one must sleep. And if you don't sleep, you can't stay awake properly in the long run. If a child is educated for a few years using this teaching method—which does not always proceed in a uniform manner, but where things also recede a little from view—then you will be able to see for yourself how thoroughly things are learned. After a few years, you will probably come to a different conclusion than your immediate impression now. Of course, we are exposed to the possibility of being misunderstood in some respects now, but it is precisely what may seem a little strange now, what may seem difficult for some children, that will prove itself over the years. We must keep an eye on that.
Two further questions concerned whether pupils at Waldorf schools can take the Abitur (German university entrance qualification) and whether homework could be assigned after all.
Dr. Steiner replied:
We certainly have the principle of not depriving children of the opportunity to engage with life as it is today. That is why I myself have established the principle, which is being implemented as far as possible, especially in the most important areas: what we have to do from an educational and didactic point of view must be combined with introducing the child to life in such a way that no external difficulties arise for them. I have therefore developed a kind of teaching constitution that takes both of these things into account. We teach without regard to the teaching objectives set for individual classes in other schools, initially for children up to the age of nine, until they complete the third grade. It is essential to have a certain amount of leeway so that we can fulfill what follows from a genuine understanding of the child's needs and what a genuine pedagogy must demand. Then, after this leeway, we can take into account what is now required by all kinds of underlying factors and laws. So, by the age of nine, we want the child to be ready to transfer to any other school. Then we allow ourselves leeway until the age of twelve so that we can provide proper education during this time. At the age of twelve, every child can transfer to another school. And so it should be again after the age of fifteen and continue until graduation. If we are fortunate enough to be able to add a new class to the school again and again and bring the children to the point of taking their high school diploma, they will be ready to take this exam at the age when they would otherwise take it. Of course, it may be that somewhere there is an examiner who says: The young people from the Waldorf school are obviously incapable of anything. You can always fail someone if you want to; you can give the dumbest kid an excellent report card and fail the smart ones. There's no way to prevent that. But in principle, we have to be allowed to do what we can do better than others, even though we don't put obstacles in the way of the children when it comes to the external demands of life. This is, of course, a substitute — it would be better if we could also establish universities. That is not possible, so we must be content with a substitute in this area.
One should never forget what it means for the art of education when children are given something to do that cannot be enforced. It is much, much better to be sparing with compulsory homework, so that one can count on the children doing what they have to do with enthusiasm and conviction, than to constantly give them tasks and then have children who do not do them anyway. It is most detrimental to education when assignments are constantly given that are not carried out. This demoralizes children in a terrible way. And these finer principles of education should be given special attention. Children who want to work have enough to do, but the school should not try to exert any pressure in this direction. Rather, if you really want children to work at home, you should try to encourage them to work voluntarily. There will be plenty for the child to do. But there should be no tendency to thwart the principles of a truly appropriate art of education by resorting to coercion again.