The Child's Changing Consciousness and Waldorf Education
GA 306
17 April 1923, Dornach
Lecture III
Yesterday I pointed out that there is much more involved in learning to walk, speak, and think—the three most important activities of early childhood—than is apparent outwardly. I also indicated that it is impossible to observe the human being completely without distinguishing between what is internal and what is external. When considering the organization of the whole human being, who is made up of body, soul, and spirit, it is especially necessary to develop a refined faculty of discrimination, and this is particularly true in the field of education.
Let us first look at what is very simply called “learning to walk.” I have already mentioned that a part of this activity is connected with how the child establishes equilibrium in the surrounding physical world. The entire, lifelong relationship to static and dynamic forces is involved in this activity. Furthermore, we have seen how this seeking, this striving for balance, this differentiation of arm and hand movements from those of the legs and feet, also forms the basis for the child's faculty of speech. And how, arising out of this faculty, the new faculty of thinking is gradually born. However, in this dynamic system of forces that the child takes hold of in learning how to walk, there lives yet something else that is of a fundamentally different character. I noted this briefly yesterday, but now we must consider it more fully.
You must always bear in mind that, pre-eminently during the first stage of childhood, but also up to the change of teeth, the child is one big sense organ. This is what makes children receptive to everything that comes from their surroundings. But it also causes them to recreate inwardly everything that is going on in their environment. One could say—to choose just one particular sense organ—that a young child is all eye. Just as the eye receives stimuli from the external world and, in keeping with its organization, reproduces what is happening there, so human beings during the first period of life inwardly reproduce everything that happens around them.
But the child takes in what is thus coming from the environment with a specific, characteristic form of inner experience. For example, when seeing the father or the mother moving a hand or an arm, the child will immediately feel an impulse to make a similar movement. And so, by imitating the movements of others in the immediate environment, the usual irregular and fidgety movements of the baby gradually become more purposeful. In this way the child also learns to walk.
But we must not overemphasize the aspect of heredity in the acquisition of this faculty, because this constant reference to heredity is merely a fashion in contemporary natural-scientific circles. Whether a child first puts down the heel or the toes when walking is also is due to imitating the father, mother, or anyone else who is close. Whether a child is more inclined to imitate one parent or the other depends on how close the connection is with the particular person, the affinity “in between the lines” of life, if I may put it this way. An exceedingly fine psychological-physiological process is happening here that cannot be recognized by the blunt tools of today's theories of heredity. To express it more pictorially: Just as the finer particles fall through the meshes of a sieve while the coarser ones are retained, so does the sieve of the modern world-view allow the finer elements of what is actually happening to slip through. In this way only the coarser similarities between child and father, or child and mother, only the “rough and ready” side of life is reckoned with, disregarding life's finer and more subtle points. The teacher and educator, however, need a trained eye for what is specifically human.
Now it would be natural to assume that it must surely be deep love that motivates a child to imitate one particular person. But if one looks at how love is revealed in later life, even in a very loving person, one will come to realize that if one maintains that the child chooses by means of love, then what is actually happening has not been fully appreciated. For in reality, the child chooses to imitate out of an even higher motive than that of love. The child is prompted by what one might, in later life, call religious or pious devotion. Although this may sound paradoxical, it is nevertheless true. The child's entire sentient-physical behavior in imitation flows from a physical yearning to become imbued with feelings found in later life only in deeply religious devotion or during participation in a religious ritual. This soul attitude is strongest during the child's earliest years, and it continues, gradually declining, until the change of teeth. The physical body of a newborn baby is totally permeated by an inner need for deeply religious devotion. What we call love in later life is just a weakened form of this pious and devotional reverence.
It could be said that until the change of teeth the child is fundamentally an imitative being. But the kind of inner experience that pulses through the child's imitation as its very life blood—and here I must ask you not to misunderstand what I am going to say, for sometimes one has to resort to unfamiliar modes of expression to characterize something that has become alien to our culture—this is religion in a physical, bodily guise.
Until the change of teeth, the child lives in a kind of “bodily religion.” We must never underestimate the delicate influences (one could also call them imponderable influences) that, only through a child's powers of perception, emanate from the environment, summoning an urge to imitate. We must in no way underestimate this most fundamental and important aspect of the child's early years. Later on we will see the tremendous significance that this has for both the principles and practical methods of education.
When contemporary natural science examines such matters, the methods used appear very crude, to say the least. To illustrate what I mean, I would like to tell you the case of the mathematician horses that, for awhile, caused a sensation in Germany. I have not seen these Dusseldorf horses myself, but I was in a position to carefully observe the horse belonging to Herr von Osten of Berlin, who played such a prominent part in this affair. It was truly amazing to witness how adept his horse was at simple mathematical calculations. The whole thing caused a great sensation and an extensive treatise dealing with this phenomenon was quickly published by a university lecturer, who came to the following conclusion.
This horse possesses such an unusually fine sensibility that it can perceive the slightest facial expressions of its master, Herr von Osten, as he stands next to it. These facial expressions are so fine that even a human being could not detect them. And when Herr von Osten gives his horse an arithmetical task, he naturally knows the answer in his head. He communicates this answer to the horse with very subtle facial expressions that the horse can perceive. In this way it can “stamp” the answers on the ground.
If, however, one's thinking is even more accurate than that of contemporary mathematical sciences, one might ask this lecturer how he could prove his theory. It would be impossible for him to do so. My own observations, on the other hand, led me to a different conclusion. I noticed that in his grey-brown coat Herr von Osten had large, bulging pockets out of which he took sugar lumps and small sweets that he shoved into the horse's mouth during his demonstrations. This ensured an especially close and intimate relationship, a physically-based affinity between steed and master. And due to this intimate physical relationship, this deep-seated attachment, which was constantly being renewed, a very close soul communication between a man and a horse came about. It was a far more intimate process than the horse's supposedly more intellectual and outward observation of its master's facial expressions. Indeed, a real communication from soul to soul had taken place.
If it is possible to observe such a phenomenon even in an animal, then you can comprehend the kind of soul communication that can exist in a little child, especially if permeated by deeply religious devotion. You must realize how everything the child makes its own grows from this religious mood, which is still fully centered within the physical body. Anyone who can observe how the child, with its inner attitude of religious surrender, surrenders to the influences of the surrounding world, and anyone who can discern in all these processes what the child individually pours into the static and dynamic forces, will discover precisely in this physical response the inherent impulses of its later destiny. However strange it may sound, what Goethe's friend Knebel in his old age once said to Goethe is still true:1Karl Ludwig von Knebel (1744–1834) German poet and tutor at the Court of Weimar.
Anyone who looks back over one's past life will find that, when we have experienced a significant event and then look back at what led up to it, it becomes apparent that we were steered toward it. We find that it was not just one previous step, but a whole series of previous steps, that now make it appear as if we had been striving toward the decisive event from a deep inner soul impulse.
If such an event is connected with someone else, the person concerned will think (provided one can extricate oneself from the turmoil of life and perceive the finer nuances of physical existence): This is not an illusion, or something I have dreamed up; but if, at a decisive moment in life, I have found another human being with whom I am more intimately connected than with other people, then I really have been seeking this person, whom I must have already known long before we met for the first time.
The most intimate matters in life are closely connected with how the child finds its way into the static and dynamic realm. If one can develop a faculty for observing such things, one will find that an individual's destiny already begins to be revealed in a strangely sense-perceptible form by how a child begins to place the feet on the ground, in how a child begins to bend the knees, or in the way a child begins to use the fingers. All of this is not merely outwardly or materially significant, but it reflects what is most spiritual in the human being.
When a child begins to speak, it adapts itself to a wider circle. In learning the mother tongue, this circle embraces all who share the same language. Now the child is no longer restricted to the narrow circle of people who provide a more intimate social background. In living into the mother tongue, the child also adapts to something broader than the static and dynamic forces. One could say that, in learning to speak, the child lives into its folk soul, into the genius of its mother tongue. And since language is thoroughly spiritual, the child still lives in something spiritual, but no longer in a spirituality only connected with the individual human being, something that is a matter of individual destiny, but something that receives the child into the wider circle of life.
When the child learns to think—well, with thinking we do not remain in the realm of the individual at all. In New Zealand, for example, people think exactly the same as we do here today. It is the entire Earth realm that we adapt ourselves to when as children we develop thinking from speech. In speaking we still remain within a smaller circle of life. In thinking, we enter the realm of humanity as a whole. This is how the child's life circles are expanded through walking, speaking, and thinking. And through discrimination one will find the fundamental links between the way a child adapts itself to the of static and dynamic forces, and its future destiny during earthly life.
Here we see the work of what we have been calling in anthroposophy the I-being of the human individual. For us, this term does not imply anything abstract, it merely serves to pinpoint a specifically human feature. Similarly, through the medium of language, we see something emerge in the human being that is entirely different from the individual I. Therefore we say that in language the human astral body is working. This astral body can also be observed in the animal world, but there it does not work in an outward direction. In the animal it is connected more with the inner being, creating the animal's form. We also create our form, but we take away a small part of this formative element and use it to develop language. In speech the astral body is actively engaged. And in thinking, which has this universal quality and is also specifically different from the other two faculties, something is happening where we could say that the human etheric body is working. Only when we come to human sense perception do we find the entire physical body in collaboration.
I do not mind if, for the time being, you treat these statements more or less as definitions. At this point it is not an important issue, for we are not interested in splitting philosophical hairs. We are merely trying to indicate what life itself reveals. And this needs to be based on a knowledge of the human being that can lead us to a true form of education, one that encompasses both theory and practice.
When looking at such a progression of development, we find that the human being's highest member, the I, is the first to emerge, followed by the astral body and etheric body. Furthermore, we can see how the soul and spiritual organization, working in the I, astral, and etheric bodies, is working on the physical body until the change of teeth. All three members are working in the physical body.
The second dentition announces a great change that affects the child's whole life. We can first observe it in a particular phenomenon. What would you say is the most striking factor of early childhood? It is, as I have described it just now, the child's physical-religious devotion to its environment. This is really the most decisive characteristic. Then the child loses the baby teeth, which is followed by years of developing a certain soulspiritual constitution, particularly in the years between the change of teeth and puberty.
You see, what has been working physically during the first period of life will later, after the child has gone through puberty, reappear transformed as thought. The young child cannot in any way yet develop the kind of thinking that leads to an experience of religious devotion. During this time of childhood—first before the change of teeth, but also continuing until puberty—these two things keep each other at a distance, so to speak. The child's thinking, even between the change of teeth and puberty, does not yet take hold of the religious element. One could compare this situation with certain alpine rivers that have their sources high up in the mountains and that, on their way down, suddenly seem to disappear as they flow through underground caves, only to reappear lower down along their further courses. What appears as a natural religious reverence during the years leading to the change of teeth withdraws inward, takes on an entirely transformed soul quality, and seems to disappear altogether. Only later in life, when the human being gains the capacity to consciously experience a religious mood, does it reappear, taking hold of a person's thinking and ideation.
If one can observe such transformations, one will find external observation even more meaningful. As I mentioned already in the first lecture, I am not at all against the more external forms of observation, which are fully justified. Yet, at the same time, we must realize that these methods cannot offer a foundation for the art of education. Experimental child psychology, for example, has discovered the curious phenomenon that children whose parents anxiously try to engender a religious attitude, who try to drum religion into their children, such children achieve poor results in their religion lessons at school. In other words, it has been established that the correlation coefficient between the children's accomplishments in religious instruction and the religious attitude of their parents is very low during the years spent in primary education.
Yet one look at human nature is enough to discover reasons for this phenomenon. No matter how often such parents may talk about their own religious attitude, no matter what beautiful words they may speak, it has no meaning for the child at all. They simply pass the child by. For anything directed to the child's reason, even if formulated in terms intended to appeal to the child's feelings, will fail to have any impact, at least until the time of the change of teeth. The only way of avoiding such heedlessness is for the adults around the child, through their actions and general behavior, to give the child the possibility to imitate and absorb a genuine religious element right into the finest articulation of the vascular system. This is then worked on inwardly, approximately between the seventh and fourteenth year. Like the alpine river flowing underground, it will surface again at puberty in the form of a capacity for conceptualization.
So we should not be surprised if a generous helping of outer piety and religious sentiment aimed at the child's well-being will simply miss the mark. Only the actions performed in the child's vicinity will speak. To express it somewhat paradoxically, the child will ignore words, moral admonitions, and even the parents' attitudes, just as the human eye will ignore something that is colorless. Until the change of teeth, the child is an imitator through and through.
Then, with the change of teeth, the great change occurs. What was formerly a physically based surrender to a religious mood ceases to exist. And so we should not be surprised when the child, who has been totally unaware of any innate religious attitude, becomes a different being between the change of teeth and puberty. But what I have pointed out just now can reveal that, only at puberty, the child reaches an intellectual mode of comprehension. Earlier, its thinking cannot yet comprehend intellectual concepts, because the child's thinking, between the change of teeth and puberty, can only unite with what is pictorial. Pictures work on the senses. Altogether, during the first period of life ending with the change of teeth, pictures of all the activities being performed within its environment work on the child. Then, with the onset of the second set of teeth, the child begins to take in the actual content presented in pictorial form. And we must pour this pictorial element into everything that we approach the child with, into everything we bring to the child through language.
I have characterized what comes toward the child through the element of statics and dynamics. But through the medium of language a much wider, an immensely varied element, comes within reach of the child. After all, language is only a link in a long chain of soul experiences. Every experience belonging to the realm of language has an artistic nature. Language itself is an artistic element, and we have to consider this artistic element above everything else in the time between the change of teeth and puberty.
Don't imagine for a moment that with these words I am advocating a purely esthetic approach to education, or that I want to exchange fundamental elements of learning with all kinds of artificial or esthetically contrived methods, even if these may appear artistically justified. Far from it! I have no intention of replacing the generally uncultured element, so prevalent in our present civilization, with a markedly Bohemian attitude toward life. (For the sake of our Czech friends present, I should like to stress that I do not in any way associate a national or geographical trait with the term Bohemian. I use it only in its generally accepted sense, denoting the happy-golucky attitude of people who shun responsibilities, who disregard accepted rules of conduct, and who do not take life seriously.) The aim is not to replace the pedantic attitude that has crept into our civilization with a disregard of fundamental rules or with a lack of earnestness.
Something entirely different is required when one is faced with children between the change of teeth and puberty. Here one has to consider that at this age their thinking is not yet logical, but has a completely pictorial character. True to nature, such children reject a logical approach. They want to live in pictures. Highly intelligent adults make little impression on children aged seven, nine, eleven, or even thirteen. At that age, they feel indifferent toward intellectual accomplishment. On the other hand, adults with an inner freshness (which does not, however, exclude a sense of discretion), people of a friendly and kindly disposition do make a deep impression on children. People whose voices have a ring of tenderness, as if their words were caressing the child, expressing approval and praise, reach the child's soul. This personal impact is what matters, because with the change of teeth the child no longer surrenders solely to surrounding activities. Now a new openness awakens to what people are actually saying, to what adults say with the natural authority they have developed. This reveals the most characteristic element inherent in the child between the change of teeth and puberty.
Certainly you would not expect me, who more than thirty years ago wrote the book Intuitive Thinking: A Philosophy of Freedom, to stand here and plead authoritarian principles. Nevertheless, insofar as children between the change of teeth and puberty are concerned, authority is absolutely necessary. It is a natural law in the life of the souls of children. Children at this particular stage in life who have not learned to look up with a natural sense of surrender to the authority of the adults who brought them up, the adults who educated them, cannot grow into a free human beings. Freedom is won only through a voluntary surrender to authority during childhood.
Just as during the first period of life children imitate all of the surrounding activities, so also during the second period of life they follow the spoken word. Of course, this has to be understood in a general way. Immensely powerful spiritual substance flows into children through language, which, according to their nature, must remain characteristically pictorial. If one observes how, before the change of teeth, through first learning to speak, children dreamily follow everything that will become fundamental for later life, and how they wake up only after the change of teeth, then one can gain a picture of what meets children through the way we use language in their presence during the second period of life.
Therefore we must take special care in how, right at this stage, we work on children through the medium of language.
Everything we bring must speak to them, and if this does not happen, they will not understand. If, for example, you factually describe a plant to a young child, it is like expecting the eye to understand the word red. The eye can understand only the color red, not the word. A child cannot understand an ordinary description of a plant. But as soon as you tell the child what the plant is saying and doing, there will be immediate understanding. The child also has to be treated with an understanding of human nature. We will hear more about this later when we discuss the practical aspects of teaching. Here I am more concerned with presenting a basic outline.
And so we see how an image-like element pervades and unites what we meet in the child's threefold activity of walking, speaking, and thinking. Likewise, activities occurring around the child, which were at first perceived in a dreamy way, are also transformed, strangely enough, into pictures during this second period between the change of teeth and puberty. The child begins to dream, as it were, about the surrounding activities, whereas during the first period of life these outer activities were followed very soberly and directly, and simply imitated. And the thoughts of the child are not yet abstract, nor yet logical; they are also still pictures. Between the second dentition and puberty, children live in what comes through language, with its artistic and pictorial element. Thus, only what is immersed in imagery will reach the child. This is why the development of a child's memory is particularly strong at this age.
And now, once again, I have to say something that will make learned psychologists shudder inwardly and give them metaphorical goose flesh. That is, children receive their memory only with the change of teeth. The cause for such goose flesh is simply that these things are not observed properly. Someone might say, “What appears as memory in a child after the change of teeth surely must have already existed before, even more strongly, because the child then had an inborn memory, and all kinds of things could be remembered even better than later on.” This would be about as correct as saying that a dog, after all, is really a wolf, and that there is no difference between the two. And if one pointed out that a dog has experienced entirely different living conditions and that, although descended from the wolf, it is no longer a wolf, the reply might be, “Well, a dog is only a domesticated version of a wolf, for the wolf's bite is worse than the dog's bite.” This kind of thing would be somewhat analogous to saying that the memory of a child is stronger prior to the change of teeth than afterward. One must be able to observe actual reality.
What is this special kind of memory in the young child that later memory is descended from? It is still an inner habit. When taking in the spoken word, a refined inner habit is formed in the child, who absorbs everything through imitation. And out of this earlier, specially developed habit—which still has a more physical quality—a soul habit is formed when the child begins the change of teeth. It is this habit, formed in the soul realm, that is called memory. One must differentiate between habit that has entered the soul life and habit in the physical realm, just as one has to distinguish between dog and wolf—otherwise one cannot comprehend what is actually happening.
You can also feel the link between the pictorial element that the child's soul had been living within, as well as the newly emerging ensouled habit, the actual memory, which works mainly through images as well.
Everything depends, in all these matters, on keen observation of human nature. It will open one's eyes to the incisive turning point during the change of teeth. One can see this change especially clearly by observing pathological conditions in children. Anyone who has an eye for these things knows that children's diseases look very different from adult diseases. As a rule, even the same outer symptoms in an ill child have a different origin than those in an adult, where they may appear similar, but are not necessarily the same. In children the characteristic forms of illness all stem from the head, from which they affect the remaining organism. They are caused by a kind of overstimulation of the nerve-sense system. This is true even in cases of children who have measles or scarlet fever.
If one can observe clearly, it will be found that when walking, speaking, and thinking exert their separate influences, these activities also work from the head downward. At the change of teeth, the head has been the most perfectly molded and shaped inwardly. After this, it spreads inner forces to the remaining organism. This is why children's diseases radiate downward from the head. Because of the way these illnesses manifest, one will come to see that they are a reaction to conditions of irritation or overstimulation, particularly in the nervesense system. Only by realizing this will one find the correct pathology in children's illnesses. If you look at the adult you will see that illnesses radiate mainly from the abdominal-motor system—that is, from the opposite pole of the human being.
Between the age when the child is likely to suffer from an overstimulation of the nerve-sense system and in the years following sexual maturity—that is, between the change of teeth and puberty—are the years of compulsory schooling. And amid all of this, a kinship lives between the child's soul life and the pictorial realm, as I have described it to you. Outwardly, this is represented by the rhythmic system with its interweaving of breathing and blood circulation. The way that breathing and blood circulation become inwardly harmonized, the way that the child breathes at school, and the way that the breathing gradually adapts to the blood circulation, all of this generally happens between the ninth and tenth year. At first, until the ninth year, the child's breathing is in the head, until, through an inner struggle within its organism, a kind of harmony between the heartbeat and the breathing is established. This is followed by a time when the blood circulation predominates, and this general change occurs in the physical realm and in the realm of the child's soul.
After the change of teeth is complete, all of the forces working through the child are striving toward inwardly mobile imagery, and we will support this picture-forming element if we use a pictorial approach in whatever we bring to the child. And then, between the ninth and tenth years, something truly remarkable begins to occur; the child feels a greater relationship to the musical element. The child wants to be held by music and rhythms much more than before. We may observe how the child, before the ninth and tenth years, responds to music—how the musical element lives in the child as a shaping force, and how, as a matter of course, the musical forces are active in the inner sculpting of the physical body. Indeed, if we notice how the child's affinity to music is easily expressed in eagerly performed dance-like movements—then we are bound to recognize that the child's real ability to grasp music begins to evolve between the ninth and tenth years. It becomes clearly noticeable at this time. Naturally, these things do not fall into strictly separate categories, and if one can comprehend them completely, one will also cultivate a musical approach before the ninth year, but this will be done in the appropriate way. One will tend in the direction suggested just now. Otherwise the child aged nine to ten would get too great a shock if suddenly exposed to the full force of the musical element, if the child were gripped by musical experiences without the appropriate preparation.
We can see from this that the child responds to particular outer manifestations and phenomena with definite inner demands, through developing certain inner needs. In recognizing these needs, knowledge does not remain theoretical, but becomes pedagogical instinct. One begins to see how here one particular process is in a state of germination and there another is budding within the child. Observing children becomes instinctive, whereas other methods lead to theories that can be applied only externally and that remain alien to the child. There is no need to give the child sweets to foster intimacy. This has to be accomplished through the proper approach to the child's soul conditions. But the most important element is the inner bond between teacher and pupil during the classroom time. It is the crux of the matter.
Now it also needs to be said that any teacher who can see what wants to overflow from within the child with deep inner necessity will become increasingly modest, because such a teacher will realize how difficult it is to reach the child's being with the meager means available. Nevertheless, we shall see that there are good reasons for continuing our efforts as long as we proceed properly, especially since all education is primarily a matter of self-education. We should not be disheartened because the child at each developmental stage reacts specifically to what the external world—that is we, the teachers—wishes to bring, even if this may assume the form of a certain inner opposition. Naturally, since consciousness has not awakened sufficiently at that age, the child is unaware of any inner resistance. In keeping with their own nature, children, having gone through the change of teeth, demand lesson content that has form and coloring that satisfies what is overflowing from their organisms. I will speak more about this later.
But one thing that children do not want—certainly not during the change of teeth—something they will reject with strong inner opposition—is to have to draw on a piece of paper, or on the chalkboard, a peculiar sign that looks like this: A, only to be told that this is supposed to sound the same as what would spontaneously come from one's own mouth [Ah!] when seeing something especially wonderful!2In German, the letter A is pronounced “ah” as in “father” or “star.”—Translator. For such a sign has nothing whatever to do with the inner experience of a child. When a child sees a combination of colors, feelings are immediately stimulated. But if one puts something in front of a child that looks like FATHER, expecting an association with what is known and loved as the child's own father, then the inner being of the child can feel only opposition.
How have our written symbols come about? Think about the ancient Egyptians with their hieroglyphs that still retained some similarity to what they were intended to convey. Ancient cuneiform writing also still had some resemblance to what the signs signified, although these were more expressive of the will-nature of the ancient people who used them, whereas the Egyptian hieroglyphs expressed more of a feeling approach. The forms of these ancient writings, especially when meant to be read, brought to mind the likeness of what they represented from the external world. But what would children make of such weird and ornate signs on the chalkboard? What could they have to do with their own fathers? And yet the young pupils are expected to learn and work with these apparently meaningless symbols. No wonder that something in the child becomes resentful.
When children are losing their baby teeth, they feel least connected with the kind of writing and reading prevalent in our present stage of civilization, because it represents the results of stylization and convention. Children, who have only recently come into the world, are suddenly expected to absorb the final results of all of the transformations that writing and reading have gone through. Even though nothing of the many stages of cultural progress that have evolved throughout the ages has yet touched the children, they are suddenly expected to deal with signs that have lost any connection between our modern age and ancient Egypt. Is it any wonder, then, if children feel out of touch?
On the other hand, if you introduce children to the world of number in an appropriate way for their age, you will find that they can enter the new subject very well. They will also be ready to appreciate simple geometric forms. In the first lecture I have already noted how the child's soul prepares to deal with patterns and forms. Numbers can also be introduced now, since with the change of teeth a hardening of the inner system is occurring. Through this hardening, forces are being released and expressed outwardly in how the child works with numbers, drawing, and so on. But reading and writing are activities that are, initially, very alien to children at around the seventh year. Please do not conclude from what I have said that children should not be taught to read and write. Of course they must learn this because, after all, we do not educate the young for our benefit, but for life. The point is, how should this be done without countering human nature? We shall go into this question more thoroughly during the next few days. But, generally speaking, it is good if educators realize how alien many things are to a child's soul, things that we take from contemporary life and teach because we feel it is necessary for the children to know them.
This must not lead us into the opposite error of wanting to create an esthetic form of education, however, or declaring that all learning should be child's play. This is one of the worst slogans, because such an attitude would turn children into the kind of people who only play at life. Only dilettantes in the field of education would allow themselves to be taken in by such a phrase. The point is not to select certain tidbits out of play activities that are pleasing to an adult, but to connect with what is actually happening when a child is playing.
And here I must ask you a pertinent question. Is play mere fun or is it a serious matter for children? To a healthy child, playing is in no way just a pleasurable pastime, but a completely serious activity. Play flows earnestly from a child's entire organism. If your way of teaching can capture the child's seriousness in play, you will not merely teach in a playful way—in the ordinary sense—but you will nurture the earnestness of a child's play. What matters at all times is the accurate observation of life. Therefore it can be rather regrettable if well-meaning people try to introduce their pet ideas into the one branch of life that demands the closest observation of all—that is, education. Our intellectual culture has landed us in a situation where most adults no longer have any understanding of childhood, because a child's soul is entirely different from that of a thoroughly intellectualized adult. We must begin by finding the key to childhood again. This means that we must permeate ourselves with the knowledge that, during the first period of life until the change of teeth, the entire behavior of a child reveals a physically anchored religious quality; and after this, between the change of teeth and puberty, a child's soul life is attuned to all that has a pictorial quality, and it undergoes many artistic and esthetic changes during this period of life.
When a child has reached puberty, the astral body, which has been working through language until this point, now becomes free to work independently. Previously, the forces that work through the medium of language were needed to build up the inner organization of the child's body. But after puberty, these forces (which work also in many other spheres—in everything that gives form, in relation to both plastic and musical forms) become liberated, and are used for the activity of thinking. Only then does the child become an intellectualizing and logically thinking person.
It is clear that what flashes, streams, and surges through language in this way, delivers a final jolt to the physical body before becoming liberated. Look at a boy who is at this age and listen to how his voice changes during puberty. This change is just as decisive as the change of teeth in the seventh year. When the larynx begins to speak with a different vocal undertone, it is the astral body's last thrust—that is, the forces flashing and working through speech—in the physical body. A corresponding change also occurs in the female organism, but in a different way, not in the larynx. It is brought about through other organs. Having gone through these changes, the human being has become sexually mature.
And now the young person enters that period of life when what previously radiated into the body from the nerve-sense system is no longer the determining factor. Now it is the motor system, the will system—so intimately connected with the metabolic system—that takes the leading role. The metabolism lives in physical movements. Pathology in adults can show us how, at this later age, illnesses radiate mainly from the metabolic system. (Even migraine is a metabolic illness.) We can see how in adults illnesses no longer spread from the head, as they do in children. It does not matter so much where an illness manifests, what matters is to know from where it radiates into the body.
But during grade school (from about six to fourteen) the rhythmic system is the most actively engaged. During this time, everything living within the nerve-sense system on the one hand, and within the metabolic-limb system on the other, is balanced by the rhythmic system. This balancing activity of the rhythmic system encompasses what works through our physical movement, where processes of combustion continually occur, and are also balanced by the metabolism. This balancing activity also works in the metabolism's digestion of what will eventually enter the bloodstream and take the form of circulation. This all comes together in the breathing process, which has a rhythmical nature, in order to work back again finally into the nerve-sense process. These are the two polarities in human nature. The nerve-sense system on the one hand, the metabolic-limb system on the other, with the rhythmic system in between.
We have to consider this rhythmic system above all when dealing with children between the change of teeth and puberty. It is fully expressed during these years, and it is the healthiest of the human systems; it would have to be subjected to gross external interference to become ill.
In this respect, modern methods of observation again take the wrong course. Think of the recent scientific tests that study fatigue in children by means of fatigue coefficients. Let me repeat again at this point, to avoid misunderstandings, that I have no intention of running down modern methods of scientific investigation as such, nor of heaping scorn on its methods. In these experiments various degrees of fatigue are measured, for example, in gym or arithmetic classes, and so on. There is nothing wrong in discovering such factors, but they must not form the basis of one's teaching. One cannot arrange a timetable according to these coefficients because the real task of a teacher is very different. At this stage of childhood, the aim should be to work with the one system in the human being that never tires throughout a person's whole life. The only system prone to fatigue is the metabolic and limb system. This system does tire, and it passes its fatigue to the other systems. But I ask you, is it possible for the rhythmic system to tire? No, it must never tire, because if the heart were not tirelessly beating throughout life, without suffering fatigue, and if breathing were not continuous without becoming exhausted, we simply could not live. The rhythmic system does not tire.
If we tire our pupils too much through one or another activity, it shows that, during the age under consideration—between seven and fourteen years—we have not appealed strongly enough to the rhythmic system. This middle system again lives entirely in the pictorial realm and is an outer expression of it. If you fail to present arithmetic or writing lessons imaginatively, you will tire your pupils. But if, out of an inner freshness and at a moment's notice, you can call up powers of imagery in the children, you will not tire them. If they nevertheless begin to droop, the source of their fatigue is in their motor system. For example, the chair that a child sits on might be pressing too hard, or the pen may not fit the hand properly. There is no need to calculate through pedagogical psychology how long a child can engage in arithmetic without undue strain. The important thing is that the teacher knows how to teach the various subjects in harmony with the pupils rhythmic system, and how, through knowledge of the human being, the lesson content can be presented in the appropriate form.
This can become possible only when we recognize that the pupil awakens to the intellectual side of life only with the advent of sexual maturity, and that between the change of teeth and puberty the teachers have to guide through personal example as they bring to their pupils what they wish to unfold within them. Consequently, a pedagogy that springs from a true knowledge of the human being has to be largely a matter of the teachers' own inner attitudes—a pedagogy destined to work on the teachers' own moral attitudes. A more drastic expression of this would be: The children in themselves are all right, but the adults are not! What is needed above all has already been put into words at the end of the first lecture. Instead of talking about how we should treat children, we should strive toward a knowledge of how we, as teachers and educators, ought to conduct ourselves. In our work we need forces of the heart. Yet it is not good enough to simply declare that, instead of addressing ourselves to the intellect of our pupils we now must appeal to their hearts, in both principle and method. What we really need—and this I wish to emphasize once more—is that we ourselves have our hearts in our pedagogy.
Dritter Vortrag
Ich habe schon gestern darauf aufmerksam gemacht, wie eigentlich in diesen drei bedeutsamsten Betätigungsweisen des kindlichen Lebens, in dem Aneignen des Gehens, des Sprechens und des Denkens, noch anderes darinnen liegt. Und man kann nicht den Menschen beobachten, wenn man seine Außenseite von seiner Innenseite nicht unterscheiden kann. Man muß gerade mit Bezug auf das, was im ganzen Menschen nach Leib, Seele und Geist steckt, sich ein feines Unterscheidungsvermögen aneignen, wenn man den Menschen pädagogisch-didaktisch behandeln will.
Gehen wir zunächst heran an dasjenige, was man so populär als das Gehenlernen bezeichnet. Ich habe schon gesagt: Eigentlich ist darin enthalten die ganze Art, wie sich der Mensch mit der physischen Außenwelt, die ihn auf der Erde umgibt, ins Gleichgewicht versetzt. Es ist eine ganze Statik und Dynamik des Lebens darin enthalten. Und wir haben ja auch gesehen, wie dieses Suchen des Gleichgewichts, dieses Emanzipieren der Hand- und Armgliedmaßen von den Bein- und Fußgliedmaßen, wiederum die Grundlage bildet für die Sprachfähigkeit des Menschen; und wie aus der Sprachfähigkeit die Denkfähigkeit eigentlich erst herausgeboren wird. Nun liegt aber in diesem dynamisch-statischen System, das sich der Mensch mit dem Gehen aneignet, noch etwas wesentlich anderes. Ich habe auch darauf schon gestern wenigstens etwas hingedeutet, aber wir müssen das noch ausführlicher betrachten. Bedenken Sie nur, daß eben der Mensch eigentlich, am meisten im ersten Kindesalter, dann aber bis zum Zahnwechsel hin, ganz Sinnesorgan ist. Dadurch ist er erstens als ganzer Mensch empfänglich für alles dasjenige, was aus seiner Umgebung wirkt; aber er ist auch auf der anderen Seite veranlaßt, nachzubilden durch sich selbst dasjenige, was in seiner Umgebung wirkt. Er ist gewissermaßen - sagen wir, wenn wir ein Sinnesorgan herausgreifen -, er ist ganz Auge. Wie das Auge die Eindrücke von der Außenwelt empfängt, wie das Auge aber gerade durch seine eigene Organisation nachbildet dasjenige, was in seiner Umgebung auftritt, so bildet der ganze Mensch in der ersten Lebensperiode innerlich dasjenige nach, was in seiner Umgebung geschieht. Aber er nimmt dasjenige, was in seiner Umgebung geschieht, mit einer eigentümlichen inneren Erlebnisform auf. Es ist ja, wenn wir als Kind den Vater oder die Mutter die Hand bewegen sehen, den Arm bewegen sehen, sogleich im Kinde der innere Trieb, auch solch eine Bewegung zu machen. Und von den allgemeinen zappelnden, irregulären Bewegungen geht es über zu bestimmten Bewegungen, indem es die Bewegungen seiner Umgebung nachahmt. So lernt das Kind auch das Gehen. Wir müssen im Gehen auch nicht in demselben Grade ein Vererbungselement sehen, wie man das aus der heutigen naturwissenschaftlichen Zeitmode heraus tut - es ist nur eine Mode, dieses überall Appellieren an die Vererbung -, sondern das Auftreten bei dem einen Kinde mit der Ferse, bei dem anderen Kinde mit den Zehenspitzen, auch das rührt von der Nachahmung von Vater oder Mutter oder sonst jemand her. Und entscheidend für diese Wahl, möchte man sagen, des Kindes, ob es sich mehr nach dem Vater oder mehr nach der Mutter richtet, ist die - wenn ich es so ausdrücken darf - zwischen den Zeilen des Lebens auftretende Zuneigung zu dem betreffenden Wesen, welches das Kind nachahmt. Hier liegt wirklich ein feiner psychologisch-physiologischer Prozeß, der sich mit den groben Mitteln der heutigen naturwissenschaftlichen Vererbungstheorie eben wirklich gar nicht anfassen läßt. Ich möchte sagen: Wie die feineren Körper durch das Sieb herunterfallen und nur die gröberen übrigbleiben, so fällt einem sogleich durch das Sieb der heutigen Weltanschauungen dasjenige durch, was da eigentlich stattfindet, und es bleibt einem nur das Grobe der Ähnlichkeit zwischen dem Kinde mit dem Vater oder der Mutter und so weiter. Aber das sind die Grobheiten des Lebens, die da zurückbleiben, nicht die Feinheiten. Und der Lehrer, der Erzieher braucht eben ein feines Beobachtungsvermögen für das spezifisch Menschliche.
Nun könnte man sagen: Gewiß, da muß die Liebe walten gerade zu dem einen besonderen Wesen, nach dem sich das Kind richtet. Aber wenn man die Erscheinungen der Liebe im späteren Leben des Menschen betrachtet, auch dann, wenn der Mensch ein sehr liebevoller geworden ist, so kommt man darauf, daß man noch nicht einmal den besonderen Eigentümlichkeiten, die da walten im Kinde, genug tut, wenn man bloß sagt: Das Kind wählt nach Liebe. Es wählt nämlich nach etwas noch Höherem als nach Liebe. Es wählt nach dem, was, wenn wir es im späteren Leben beim Menschen aufsuchen, die religiöse Hingebung ist. Das scheint sehr paradox zu sein, aber es ist so. Das ganze sinnlich-physische Verhalten des Kindes, indem es alles nachahmt, ist ein Ausfluß dessen, daß der Leib des Menschen bis zum Zahnwechsel - natürlich allmählich abnehmend, besonders stark im ersten Kindesalter, aber doch bis zum Zahnwechsel hin - strebt nach einem Durchlebtwerden mit solchen Gefühlen, wie sie später nur in der religiösen Hingebung oder in der Teilnahme an Kultushandlungen zum Ausdruck kommen. Der Leib des Menschen, wenn er in das physische Leben hereintritt, ist nämlich ganz in religiöse Bedürfnisse getaucht, und die Liebe ist später eine Abschwächung desjenigen, was eigentlich religiöses Hingebungsgefühl ist. Wir können sagen: Das Kind ist bis zum Zahnwechsel im wesentlichen ein nachahmendes Wesen, aber jene Erlebnisform, welche durch diese Nachahmung hindurch wie das Blut des Lebens geht, ist - Sie werden den Ausdruck nicht mißverstehen, man muß, um etwas zu bezeichnen, das der Gegenwartskultur so fremd ist, manchmal auch fremdartige Ausdrücke gebrauchen -, es ist leibliche Religion. Das Kind lebt bis zum Zahnwechsel in leiblicher Religion. Man soll ja nicht unterschätzen jene ganz feinen, man könnte sagen imponderablen Einflüsse, die von der Umgebung des Kindes durch die bloße Anschauung im nachahmenden Bedürfnis ausgehen. Man soll das ja nicht unterschätzen, denn das ist das Allerwichtigste für das kindliche Lebensalter. Wir werden noch sehen, welche ungeheuer bedeutsamen pädagogisch-didaktischen Ergebnisse gerade daraus hervorgehen.
Nun, nicht wahr, wenn die heutige Naturwissenschaft an solche Dinge herangeht, so wirken sie ja ungeheuer grob. Ich möchte auch diesmal jene Tatsache anführen, die man bei dieser Gelegenheit sehr gut verstehen kann: das sind nämlich die mathematisierenden Pferde, die eine Zeitlang ein solches Aufsehen gemacht haben. Ich habe die Elberfelder Pferde nicht gesehen, aber ich habe gut studieren können das Pferd des Herrn von Osten, der ja in Berlin eine bestimmte Zeit hindurch eine große Rolle gespielt hat. Es war wirklich etwas Erstaunliches, wie gut dieses Pferd rechnen konnte. Nun, die Sache hat ja viel Aufsehen gemacht, und es erschien auch eine sehr ausführliche Abhandlung von einem Privatdozenten, der zu dem Schluß gekommen war: Dieses Pferd hat die Eigentümlichkeit, daß es die ganz feinen Mienen, die der Mensch nicht wahrnehmen kann, diese ganz feinen Mienen, die der Herr von Osten hat, während er neben dem Pferd steht, wahrnehmen kann. Und wenn der Herr von Osten ihm dann eine Rechnungsaufgabe gibt, so hat er selbst ja schon das Resultat im Kopfe und macht dazu eine ganz besonders feine Miene; das nimmt das Pferd wahr, und da tritt es mit dem Fuße auf, wenn es diese Miene wahrnimmt. Man konnte allerdings, wenn man noch exakter dachte als die exakte Naturwissenschaft von heute, jetzt diesen Privatdozenten fragen, wie er denn das beweisen will. Er könnte es nicht beweisen. - Aber sehen Sie, meine Beobachtungen gingen dahin, daß etwas ganz anderes eine Bedeutung hatte für den ganzen Verlauf der Sache. Der Herr von Osten hatte nämlich in seinem braungrauen Mantel große Säcke, und fortwährend, während er demonstrierte, schob er dem Pferd Zuckerln, kleine Bonbons, in den Mund. Dadurch wurde ein besonders intimes, leiblich intimes Verhältnis zwischen dem Roß und Herrn von Osten hergestellt, und auf diesem intimen leiblichen Verhältnis, auf dieser fortwährend unterhaltenen innigen Zuneigung beruhte jenes seelische Verhältnis zwischen dem Manne und seinem Pferd. Und es ist ein viel intimerer Vorgang als das äußerliche, intellektuelle Beobachten von Mienen: es ist tatsächlich eine seelische Kommunikation.
Wenn man das schon in der Tierheit in einem solchen Falle beobachten kann, dann müssen Sie sich klar sein, welche seelische Kommunikation, wenn sie noch durchstrahlt sein kann von dieser religiösen Hingabe, im kindlichen Lebensalter vorhanden ist - wie da alles, was das Kind sich aneignet, aus dieser religiösen Seelenorientierung hervorgeht, die noch ganz im Leibe sitzt. Und derjenige, der nun beobachten kann, wie das Kind sich von außen beeinflussen läßt durch diese religiöse Hingabe an die Umgebung, und wer unterscheiden kann von dem, was auf diese Art geschieht, dasjenige, was das Kind noch individuell gerade in diese Statik und Dynamik hineingießt, der findet dann schon veranlagt gerade in dieser leiblichen Äußerung des Kindes die Impulse des späteren Schicksals. Sehen Sie, es ist sehr merkwürdig, aber durchaus wahr, was zum Beispiel solch ein Mensch wie Goethes Freund Knebel im hohen Alter zu Goethe gesagt hat: Wer zurückblickt auf das Leben, der findet sehr leicht, daß, wenn wir ein entscheidendes Ereignis im Leben haben und wenn wir dasjenige, was vorangegangen ist, verfolgen, es so ist, wie wenn wir hingesteuert wären zu diesem entscheidenden Ereignis, wie wenn nicht nur der vorhergehende Schritt, sondern viele vorhergehende Schritte so gewesen wären, daß wir aus innerem Seelentrieb heraus gerade dahin gestrebt haben.
Ist das betreffende Ereignis so, daß es mit einer Persönlichkeit zusammenhängt, dann wird der Mensch, wenn er wirklich sich herauslösen kann aus dem Getöse des Lebens und auf die feineren Empfindungen hinschauen kann, sich auch sagen: Es ist nicht bloß eine Illusion, ein Erträumtes, sondern hast du einen Menschen gefunden bei einer bestimmten Lebensstation, mit dem du inniger verbunden sein willst als mit anderen Menschen, so hast du ihn eigentlich gesucht. Du hast ihn ja schon gekannt, bevor du ihn das erstemal gesehen hast. - Die intimsten Dinge des Lebens stehen gerade neben diesem Sichhineinfinden in die Statik und Dynamik. Und wer sich ein Beobachtungsvermögen nach dieser Richtung aneignet, der wird finden, daß die Lebensschicksale sich in einer merkwürdig bildhaften Form ausdrücken in der Art und Weise, wie das Kind beginnt aufzutreten, wie das Kind beginnt, die Knie zu beugen, wie es beginnt, sich seiner Finger zu bedienen. Das alles ist ja nicht bloß etwas materiell Äußerliches, das alles ist ja das Bild gerade für das Geistigste des Menschen.
Und wenn das Kind zu sprechen beginnt, dann ist es ein größerer Kreis, dem es sich anpaßt. Es ist zunächst, wenn es nur seine Muttersprache lernt, der Kreis des Volkstums, nicht mehr jener engere Kreis derjenigen Persönlichkeiten, die ein mehr intimes soziales Milieu ausmachen. Der Kreis hat sich erweitert. Indem das Kind sich in die Sprache hineinlebt, paßt es sich schon an etwas an, was nicht mehr so eng ist wie das, an was es sich anpaßt mit Statik und Dynamik. Daher können wir sagen: Das Kind lebt sich mit dem Sprechen hinein in den Volksgenius, den Sprachgenius. Und indem die Sprache durch und durch ein Geistiges ist, lebt sich das Kind noch in ein Geistiges hinein, aber nicht mehr in das individuell Geistige, das für es dann schicksalmäßig, unmittelbar persönlich schicksalmäßig wird, sondern in etwas, was das Kind aufnimmt in einen größeren Lebenskreis.
Und lernt das Kind dann denken - ja, im Denken sind wir gar nicht mehr individuell darinnen. In Neuseeland denken die Menschen gerade so, wie wir heute hier denken. Da ist es der ganze Erdenkreis, dem man sich anpaßt, indem man das Denken herausentwickelt aus der Sprache. Also mit der Sprache stehen wir noch in einem kleineren Lebenskreise drinnen; im Denken stehen wir in der ganzen Menschheit drinnen. So erweitern wir unseren Lebenskreis im Gehen, Sprechen, Denken. Und hat man ein Unterscheidungsvermögen, dann findet man schon die durchgreifenden spezifischen Unterschiede zwischen jenen menschlichen Lebensäußerungen heraus, die in der Aneignung der Statik und Dynamik mit dem Schicksal liegen. Und wir schauen darinnen dasjenige wirksam, was wir in der Anthroposophie gewöhnt worden sind, die Ichwesenheit des Menschen zu nennen. Nicht eine abstrakte Unterscheidung wollen wir pflegen, sondern nur das Spezifische, das im Menschen wirkt, eben damit fixieren. Ebenso sehen wir, daß etwas ganz anderes als diese ganz individuelle Menschennatur in der Sprache herauskommt. Deshalb sagen wir: In der Sprache wirkt mit des Menschen astralischer Leib. Dieser astralische Leib kann zwar auch beim Tier beobachtet werden; aber beim Tier wirkt er nicht nach außen, sondern mehr nach innen und bewirkt die Gestalt des Tieres. Wir bilden auch die Gestalt, aber wir nehmen gewissermaßen ein wenig weg von diesem gestaltbildenden Elemente und verwenden es dazu, die Sprache auszubilden. Da wirkt also der astralische Leib mit. Und im Denken, was dann ganz allgemein ist, was wiederum etwas spezifisch von dem anderen Verschiedenes ist, im Denken bilden wir dasjenige aus, was wir so abgrenzen, daß wir sagen: Da wirkt der Ätherleib des Menschen mit. Und erst bei den Sinneswahrnehmungen wirkt der ganze physische Leib des Menschen mit.
Nehmen Sie diese Dinge zunächst meinetwillen wie die Festlegung einer Terminologie; darauf kommt es jetzt nicht an, es handelt sich wirklich nicht um allerlei philosophische Spintisierereien, sondern um eine starke Hindeutung auf das Leben selber. Diese muß zugrunde liegen jener Menschenerkenntnis, die wiederum zu einer wahren Pädagogik und Didaktik führen kann.
So sehen wir gewissermaßen in einer solchen Reihenfolge, daß das Höchste zuerst herauskommt, das Ich, dann der astralische Leib, dann der Ätherleib. Und das ganze Geistig-Seelische, das im Ich, Astralleib und Ätherleib wirkt, das sehen wir dann auf den physischen Leib weiter bis zum Zahnwechsel hin wirken. Es wirkt im physischen Leibe das alles drinnen.
Mit dem Zahnwechsel tritt eine große Veränderung im ganzen Leben des Kindes ein. Diese Veränderung, wir können sie zunächst an einem bestimmten Element beobachten. Sehen Sie, was ist denn eigentlich beim Kinde dasjenige, was das Ausschlaggebende ist? Es ist wirklich das, was ich eben charakterisiert habe, diese leiblich-religiöse Hingabe an die Umgebung. Das ist wirklich das Ausschlaggebende. Nun geht das Kind durch den Zahnwechsel durch, bekommt dann eine gewisse seelisch-geistige Konstitution gerade im volksschulmäßigen Alter zwischen dem Zahnwechsel und der Geschlechtsreife. Nun sehen Sie: was da leiblich wirkt im Menschen in der ersten Lebensperiode, es kommt erst im späteren Lebensalter, wenn der Mensch die Geschlechtsreife schon durchgemacht hat, als Gedanken zum Vorschein. Es ist gar nicht so, daß das Kind schon ein solches Denken hat, welches sich im Kinde verbinden könnte mit dem Erleben der religiösen Hingabe. Diese zwei Dinge stehen im kindlichen Alter - zunächst bis zum Zahnwechsel, aber noch bis zur Geschlechtsreife - in einer solchen Weise zueinander, daß sie sich, möchte ich sagen, gegenseitig fernhalten. Das Denken des Kindes ergreift selbst zwischen dem Zahnwechsel und der Geschlechtsreife noch nicht das religiöse Element. Es ist so wie bei jenen Alpenflüssen, die da oben entspringen und dann in den Höhlen des Gebirges scheinbar verschwinden, indem sie da unten weiterflieffen und dann wieder hervorkommen und oben weiterfließen. Dasjenige, was im kindlichen Lebensalter bis zum Zahnwechsel hin als diese religiöse Hingabe erscheint, es tritt in das Innere des Menschen zurück und wird ganz seelisch, so daß man es wie verschwinden sieht, und erst später, wenn der Mensch dann wirklich ein religiös empfindendes Wesen wird, dann tritt es wiederum hervor, und zwar ergreift es jetzt das Vorstellen, das Denken.
Wenn man so etwas beobachten kann, dann wird ja erst die äußerliche Beobachtung - die ich durchaus nicht tadle, die ich durchaus, wie ich schon im ersten Vortrage sagte, berechtigt finde, aber die nicht unmittelbar die Grundlage für die pädagogische Kunst bilden kann -, diese Beobachtung wird dadurch erst bedeutungsvoll. Sehen Sie, da hat wiederum die experimentelle pädagogische Psychologie festgestellt, daß es ja sehr merkwürdig ist, wie Kinder von solchen Eltern, die fortwährend mit religiöser Gesinnung in der Umgebung wirken, die fortwährend die religiöse Gesinnung in Worten zum Ausdruck bringen und dem Kinde die Religion sozusagen einbläuen möchten - wie Kinder von solchen Eltern in ihren eigenen Schulleistungen in der Religion schwach sind; wie der geringste Korrelationskoeffizient zwischen der religiösen Schulleistung der Kinder im volksschulpflichtigen Alter und der religiösen Gesinnung der Eltern besteht. Diese Korrelationskoeffizienten sind sehr gering.
Ja, sehen Sie, wenn man nun hineinschaut in die menschliche Wesenheit, dann sieht man die Gründe für diese Erscheinung. Die EItern mögen nämlich noch soviel reden von ihrer religiösen Gesinnung, sie mögen noch soviel Schönes dem Kinde sagen, das hat ja gar keine Bedeutung für das Kind; daran geht das Kind vorbei. An allem geht das Kind vorbei, was auf den Verstand wirken soll, selbst noch an dem, was auf das Gemüt wirken soll, geht es vorbei bis zum Zahnwechsel. Es geht nur daran nicht vorbei, wenn diejenigen Persönlichkeiten, die in der Umgebung des Kindes sind, in ihren Handlungen, schon durch ihre Gesten, durch die Art und Weise, wie sie sich verhalten, dem Kinde die Möglichkeit geben, in religiöser Hingebung nachzuahmen und bis in die feinsten Gliederungen des Gefäßsystems hinein das Religiöse aufzunehmen. Dann wird das im Innern des Menschen verarbeitet zwischen ungefähr dem siebenten und dem vierzehnten Lebensjahr; es geht wieder da unten weiter, wie der Fluß unten weitergeht, und kommt erst wiederum, wenn das Kind geschlechtsreif ist, im Vorstellungsvermögen zum Vorschein. Wir dürfen uns also nicht wundern, daß, wenn noch soviel äußere Frömmigkeitsformeln und noch soviel religiöse Gesinnung an das Kind herantreten, das alles nicht wirkt. Wirkend sehen wir nur dasjenige, was in den Handlungen liegt, die das Kind umgeben - das andere geht alles an dem Kinde vorüber. Das Kind geht, paradox ausgedrückt, an den Worten und an den Ermahnungen, selbst an den Gesinnungen der Eltern gerade so unbeteiligt vorbei, wie das Auge vorbeigeht an allem, was nicht Farbe ist. Das Kind ist eben durch und durch ein nachahmendes Wesen bis zum Zahnwechsel.
Mit dem Zahnwechsel tritt dann eben die große Veränderung bei dem Kinde ein. Diese leiblich-religiöse Hingabe hört auf. Wir brauchen uns jetzt nicht zu verwundern, wenn das Kind, das ja gar nichts gemerkt hat von all der religiösen Gesinnung, nun sich ganz anders erweist zwischen dem Zahnwechsel und der Geschlechtsreife. Aber gerade das, was ich gesagt habe, beweist uns, daß das Kind zu dem intellektualistischen Verstehen eigentlich erst mit der Geschlechtsreife kommt. Das Denken des Kindes erfaßt noch gar nicht das Intellektuelle, sondern das Denken des Kindes vom Zahnwechsel bis zur Geschlechtsreife steht durchaus mit alledem nur in Verbindung, was bildhaft auf das Kind wirkt. Auf die Sinne wirken Bilder. In der ersten Lebensperiode bis zum Zahnwechsel wirken überhaupt nur die Bilder des Geschehens, des Tuns der Umgebung. Dann fängt das Kind an, mit dem Zahnwechsel auch dasjenige aufzunehmen, was bildhaft ist. Und dieses Bildhafte, das müssen wir vor allen Dingen in all das gießen, wodurch wir jetzt in vorzüglicher Weise an das Kind heranbringen dasjenige, was eben herangebracht werden muß, das ist: durch die Sprache.
Ich habe Ihnen jetzt ja charakterisiert, was alles an das Kind herankommt durch das statisch-dynamische Element. Aber mit dem Sprachlichen kommt weiteres, kommt ungeheuer vieles an das Kind heran. Die Sprache ist ja nur ein Glied in einer umfangreichen Kette von Seelenerlebnissen. Und alle diejenigen Seelenerlebnisse, welche zu dem Kreis der Sprache gehören, sind die künstlerischen Seelenerlebnisse. Die Sprache selbst ist ein künstlerisches Element. Und das künstlerische Element, das ist dasjenige, was wir vorzugsweise berücksichtigen müssen gerade für das volksschulmäßige Zeitalter, für das Zeitalter des Kindes vom Zahnwechsel bis zur Geschlechtsreife.
Glauben Sie ja nicht, daß ich jetzt in diesem Augenblicke eintreten will für eine ästhetisierende Erziehung, für ein Ersetzen der ersten Unterrichtselemente durch allerlei Erkünsteltes und Künstlerisches, vielleicht auch berechtigt Künstlerisches. Das will ich durchaus nicht. Ich will durchaus nicht das Philisterelement, das in unserer gegenwärtigen Zivilisation ja ausschlaggebend ist, durch das Boheme-Element ersetzen. - Für unsere tschechischen Freunde möchte ich bemerken, daß mit Boheme-Element natürlich kein Völker-Element gemeint ist, nichts Landschaftliches, sondern was im Leben so schlampig dahinlebt, ohne Pflichtgefühl, ohne Regelung, ohne Ernst. - Also darum handelt es sich nicht, daß das Ungeregelte, das Unernste, an die Stelle treten soll des philiströsen Elementes, das in unsere Zivilisation hineingekommen ist, sondern es handelt sich um etwas ganz anderes für das Zeitalter von dem Zahnwechsel bis zur Geschlechtsreife. Da muß man eben darauf hinschauen, wie das ganze Denken noch kein logisches ist beim Kinde, sondern wie das ganze Denken beim Kinde ein bildhaftes ist. Und durch seine innerliche Natur lehnt das Kind das Logische zunächst ab; es will Bildhaftes haben. Die gescheiten Menschen, die machen noch nicht einen sehr starken Eindruck auf das siebenjährige, neunjährige, elfjährige, selbst noch dreizehnjährige Kind. Die Gescheitheit der Menschen ist diesen Kindern noch ziemlich gleichgültig. Aber einen starken Eindruck machen die frischen Menschen, die liebenswürdigen Menschen; diejenigen, die so sprechen, daß sie auch schon mit ihren Worten - nun, es ist etwas extrem ausgedrückt - sozusagen Zärtlichkeiten austeilen, diejenigen, die mit Worten streicheln können, die mit Wortbetonungen loben können. Diese Menschen, die in Frische, aber ohne Unbesonnenheit durch das Leben gehen, diese sind es, welche auf die Kinder in diesem Lebensalter ganz besonders wirken. Und auf diese persönliche Wirkung kommt es an. Denn es erwacht mit dem Zahnwechsel gerade das Hingegebensein des Kindes jetzt nicht mehr an die Taten allein der Umgebung, sondern an dasjenige, was die Menschen sagen. In dem, was die Menschen sagen, in dem, was man durch eine selbstverständliche Autorität sich aneignet, in dem liegt das wesentlichste Element des kindlichen Lebens vom Zahnwechsel bis zur Geschlechtsreife.
Sie werden mir, der ich die «Philosophie der Freiheit» geschrieben habe vor mehr als 30 Jahren, nicht zutrauen, daß ich für die Autorität in unziemlicher Weise eintrete; aber für das Kind vom Zahnwechsel bis zur Geschlechtsreife ist das Leben unter der selbstverständlichen Autorität eben ein seelisches Naturgesetz. Und derjenige, der nie in diesem Lebensalter gelernt hat, als zu einer selbstverständlichen Autorität zu seiner ihn erziehenden und lehrenden Umgebung aufzusehen, der kann auch niemals frei werden, kann auch niemals ein freier Mensch werden. Die Freiheit erwirbt man sich eben gerade durch die Hingabe an die Autorität in diesem Lebensalter.
Gerade so wie das Kind in der ersten Lebensepoche dasjenige nachahmt, was in der Umgebung getan wird, so folgt es in der zweiten Lebensepoche dem, was in der Umgebung gesagt wird - natürlich im umfassenden Sinne gesagt wird. Und Ungeheures fließt durch die Sprache, die aber aus dem Kinde heraus durchaus nach Bildlichkeit verlangt, in das Kind ein. Sehen Sie: wenn man beobachtet, wie das, was veranlagt wird beim ersten Sprechenlernen, man möchte sagen traumhaft vom Kinde verfolgt wird bis zum Zahnwechsel und dann erst aufwacht - gerade dann hat man eine Vorstellung davon, was da alles mit unserer Handhabung der Sprache in der Umgebung des Kindes in der zweiten Lebensepoche an es herantritt. Daher muß gerade für dieses Lebensalter ganz besonders berücksichtigt werden, wie auf das Kind gewirkt werden kann durch das, wofür die Sprache tonangebend ist. Alles muß gewissermaßen sprechend an das Kind herangebracht werden - und dasjenige, was nicht sprechend an das Kind herangebracht wird, das begreift das Kind nicht. Wenn man dem Kinde eine Pflanze beschreibt, da ist es gerade so, wie wenn man vom Auge verlangt, daß es das Wort Rot verstehen soll; es versteht nur die rote Farbe. Das Kind versteht nichts von der Beschreibung einer Pflanze; es fängt aber sofort an zu verstehen, wenn man ihm erzählt, wie die Pflanze spricht und handelt. Man muß eben das Kind auch nach der Menschenerkenntnis behandeln. Das werden wir aber mehr im pädagogisch-didaktischen Teil sehen; dasjenige, was ich jetzt sage, soll mehr eine Grundlage sein.
Wir sehen also das, was uns in der Dreiheit Gehen, Sprechen, Denken im Kinde veranlagt entgegentritt, wie in dem bildhaften Element vereinigt. Auch das, was das Kind zuerst im Sinnlichen träumend aufgenommen hat von den Taten der Umgebung, wird merkwürdigerweise in diesem zweiten Lebensalter vom Zahnwechsel bis zu der Geschlechtsreife in Bilder verwandelt. Das Kind fängt an, möchte man sagen, zu träumen von dem, was seine Umgebung tut, während es in der ersten Lebensperiode das ganz nüchtern aufgefaßt hat, in seiner Art nüchtern, indem es innerlich es nachahmt. Jetzt fängt es an zu träumen von demjenigen, was die Umgebung tut. Und die Gedanken des kindlichen Denkens sind noch nicht abstrakte, noch nicht logische Gedanken, sie sind auch noch Bilder. In demjenigen, wofür die Sprache tonangebend ist, in diesem künstlerischen Element, diesem ästhetischen Element, diesem bildhaften Element lebt das Kind vom Zahnwechsel bis zur Geschlechtsreife, und nur dasjenige kommt von uns als Erwachsene zu ihm, was in diese Bildlichkeit getaucht ist. Daher entwickelt sich besonders für dieses Lebensalter das Gedächtnis des Kindes.
Nun sage ich wiederum etwas, vor dem die gelehrten Psychologen heute selbstverständlich ein leichtes Gruseln, eine Art Gänsehaut bekommen, wenn ich sage: Das Kind bekommt das Gedächtnis erst mit dem Zahnwechsel. Aber daß man dieses leise Gruseln, diese Gänsehaut bekommt, das rührt nur davon her, daß man die Dinge eben nicht beobachten kann. Sehen Sie, wenn einer sagt: das, was als Gedächtnis beim Kinde auftritt vom Zahnwechsel an, das war ja früher sogar stärker da, denn das Kind, das hat ein naturgemäßes Gedächtnis, es erinnert sich viel leichter an alles mögliche, als man sich später daran erinnert — ja, das ist zwar richtig, aber es ist in der Art richtig, wie wenn einer sagt: ein Hund ist ja doch ein Wolf, er unterscheidet sich nicht von einem Wolf. Und wenn man ihm dann sagt: ein Hund ist eben durch andere Lebensverhältnisse hindurchgegangen, er ist zwar aus dem Wolf geworden, aber er ist keiner mehr, dann sagt er: ja, was beim Hund in zahmer Weise vorhanden ist, das ist beim Wolf eben mehr vorhanden, der Wolf beißt mehr als der Hund. - So ist es, wenn man sagt, das Gedächtnis ist beim Kinde stärker vorhanden als im späteren Leben, nach dem Zahnwechsel. Man muß eben wirklich eingehen können auf das Beobachten des Tatsächlichen, des Wirklichen.
Was ist diese besondere Art von Gedächtnis, von dem das spätere Gedächtnis abstammt, beim Kinde? Das ist ja beim Kinde noch Gewohnheit. Beim Kinde, das alles durch Nachahmung sich einverleibt, entsteht eine innere, feine Gewohnheit, wenn es das Wort wahrnimmt, und aus der Gewohnheit, dem, was später als Gewohnheit auftritt, aus einer besonders ausgebildeten Gewohnheit, die noch eine mehr körperliche Eigenschaft ist, geht das hervor, was später, vom Zahnwechsel an, die seelisch gewordene Gewohnheit, das Gedächtnis ist. Man muß die seelisch gewordene Gewohnheit von der bloß physischen Gewohnheit unterscheiden, wie man den Hund vom Wolfe unterscheidet, sonst kommt man nicht zurecht.
Und nun wird man auch den Zusammenhang empfinden zwischen der bildhaften Natur, in der das ganze kindliche Seelenleben ist, und dem Heraufkommen der durchseelten Gewohnheit, dem eigentlichen Gedächtnis, das ja vorzugsweise in Bildern wirkt.
Es kommt bei allen Dingen überall darauf an, daß man sich eben eine feine Menschenbeobachtung aneignet. Dann merkt man schon auch den großen Einschnitt zwischen dem Lebensalter, das beim Kinde dem Zahnwechsel vorangeht, und dem Lebensalter, das dann folgt. Man merkt diesen Einschnitt ja auch ganz besonders an den pathologischen Zuständen, die auftreten. Wer dafür ein Auge hat, der weiß, daf Kinderkrankheiten ganz anders ausschauen als Krankheiten der Erwachsenen. In der Regel hat sogar derselbe äußere Symptomkomplex beim Kinde einen ganz anderen Ursprung, als er beim Erwachsenen hat, wo er zwar nicht ganz dasselbe, aber ähnlich ist. Beim Kinde entstehen nämlich die charakteristischen Krankheitsformen eigentlich alle vom Kopf herunter nach dem übrigen Organismus, durch eine Art Übererregung des Nerven-Sinnessystems. Bis in die kindlichen Masern und Scharlach hinein ist das so. Und wenn man nun beobachten kann, so findet man: in diesem kindlichen Leben, in dem nun getrennt voneinander wirken Gehen, Sprechen, Denken - alle diese Tätigkeiten wirken beim Kinde vom Kopfe aus. Der Kopf ist ja mit dem Zahnwechsel am meisten innerlich plastisch ausgebildet. Er verbreitet dann dasjenige, was innere Kräfte sind, auf den übrigen Organismus. Daher strahlen eben die Kinderkrankheiten auch vom Kopfe aus. Man wird sehen an der Art und Weise, wie Kinderkrankheiten auftreten, daß sie eine Reaktion sind auf Erregungszustände des Nerven-Sinnessystems in erster Linie. Nur dann findet man eine richtige Pathologie der Kinderkrankheiten, wenn man das weiß. Gehen Sie an den Erwachsenen heran, dann werden Sie sehen, daß seine Krankheiten vorzugsweise ausstrahlen vom Unterleibs- und Bewegungssystem, also gerade vom entgegengesetzten Pol des Menschen.
Zwischendrinnen, zwischen dem kindlichen Alter, das eigentlich an einer Übererregung des Nerven-Sinnessystems leiden kann, und dem erwachsenen Alter nach der Geschlechtsreife liegt eben gerade das schulpflichtige Alter - vom Zahnwechsel bis zur Geschlechtsreife. Da steht mitten drinnen das alles, was ich Ihnen geschildert habe, dieses bildhafte Seelenleben. Das hat zu seiner Außenseite das rhythmische System des Menschen, das Ineinanderwirken von Atmung und Blutzirkulation. Wie Atmung und Blutzirkulation sich innerlich harmonisieren, wie das Kind atmet in der Schule, wie sich die Atmung allmählich der Blutzirkulation anpaßt, das geschieht in der Regel zwischen dem 9. und 10. Jahr. Während zuerst bis zum 9. Jahr die Atmung präponderierend ist, wie dann durch ein innerliches Kämpfen im Organismus sich eine Art Harmonie herausstellt zwischen dem Pulsschlag und den Atemzügen, wie dann die Blutzirkulation präponderierend wird, das ist leiblich auf der einen Seite vorhanden, das ist seelisch auf der anderen Seite vorhanden.
Alle Kräfte des Kindes, indem es durch den Zahnwechsel durchgegangen ist, streben nach einer innerlich plastischen Bildhaftigkeit. Und wir unterstützen diese Bildhaftigkeit, wenn wir selbst mit alledem, was wir dem Kinde überliefern, bildhaft an das Kind herantreten. Dann, zwischen dem 9. und 10. Jahr, tritt etwas Merkwürdiges auf. Da will das Kind viel mehr als früher musikalisch gepackt werden, in Rhythmen gepackt werden. Wenn wir das Kind beobachten in bezug auf das musikalische Aufnehmen bis zu diesem Lebenspunkte zwischen dem 9. und 10. Jahr - beobachten, wie auch das Musikalische in dem Kinde eigentlich plastisch lebt, wie es selbstverständlich zur inneren Plastik des Leibes wird, wie auch das Musikalische beim Kinde außerordentlich leicht in das Tanzartige, in die Bewegung übergeht: da müssen wir erkennen, wie das eigentliche innere Erfassen des Musikalischen gerade erst zwischen dem 9. und 10. Jahr auftritt. Das wird ganz deutlich bemerkbar sein. Natürlich sind die Dinge nicht so streng voneinander unterschieden, und wer diese Dinge durchschaut, wird das Musikalische vor dem 9. Jahre pflegen, aber in richtiger Weise - mehr nach der Seite hin tendierend, wie ich es eben charakterisiert habe; sonst würde das Kind zwischen dem 9. und 10. Jahr einen Schock bekommen, wenn das musikalische Element plötzlich an es herantreten und es nun innerlich ergreifen würde, während es ganz ungewohnt war, überhaupt in dieser starken Weise innerlich ergriffen zu werden.
Und so sehen wir, wie das Kind aus seiner inneren Wesenheit heraus ganz bestimmten Manifestationen, Offenbarungen der Außenwelt, innere Forderungen, innere Bedürfnisse entgegenstellt. Wenn man diese inneren Forderungen und inneren Bedürfnisse so kennenlernt, wie ich es jetzt geschildert habe, dann lernt man sie nicht bloß theoretisch kennen, sondern man lernt am Kinde selbst erkennen: jetzt spriefßt das aus ihm heraus, jetzt etwas anderes. Da wird wirklich eine solche Lebenserkenntnis nicht Theorie, sie wird Instinkt. Ein instinktives Beobachten des Kindes tritt dadurch zutage, währenddem sonst alles Beobachten eben nur zu Theorien führt - und man muß die Theorien äußerlich anwenden und bleibt im Grunde genommen dem Kinde ganz fremd. Man braucht ja nicht dem Kinde Bonbons zu geben, um die Intimität herzustellen, man muß das eben durch seelische Bedingungen herbeiführen. Aber das allerwichtigste Element ist eben die seelische Verbindung zwischen dem Lehrenden und dem zu Erziehenden im volksschulmäßigen Lebensalter. Das ist es, worauf es besonders ankommt.
Nun muß man ja sagen: Dasjenige, was da aus dem Kinde herauswill, das kommt eigentlich mit einer großen inneren Notwendigkeit aus dem Kinde heraus. Und der Erzieher und Lehrer, der das Kind durchschauen kann aus all den Quellen heraus, die ich charakterisiert habe, wird eigentlich nach und nach recht sehr bescheiden, weil er allmählich kennenlernt, wie wenig man im Grunde genommen mit leichten Mitteln herankommt an das Kind. Wir werden aber sehen, daß Erziehung und Unterricht dennoch ihre gute Begründung haben und uns schon, wenn wir sie in der richtigen Weise als Praxis pflegen, in die Lage versetzen, an das Kind heranzukommen - gerade weil die meiste Erziehung doch Selbsterziehung ist. Aber wir müssen auch einsehen, daß eben das Kind etwas ganz Spezifisches, sogar in jedem Lebenspunkte etwas ganz Spezifisches, der Außenwelt, also uns selbst als Erziehern und Lehrern, entgegenbringt. Und wir müssen uns dann nicht wundern, wenn wir etwas an das Kind heranbringen und das Kind - nicht bewußt, denn das bewußte Leben ist ja da noch nicht so sehr ausgebildet - unbewußt uns eine bestimmte Opposition entgegenbringt.
Das Kind verlangt durch seine innere Natur, wenn es den Zahnwechsel durchgemacht hat, daß wir ihm in äußeren Formen und Farben dasjenige entgegenbringen, was aus der Organisation selbst herausquillt. Darüber werde ich dann später noch sprechen. Aber was das Kind nicht verlangt, was das Kind ganz gewiß im ZahnwechselLebensalter zunächst nicht verlangt, was es innerlich mit starker Opposition zurückweist, das ist, daß es, wenn es gelernt hat, als menschlichen Ausdruck für Verwunderung A zu sagen, dann für dieses A solch ein komisches Zeichen auf die Tafel oder auf Papier schreiben soll! Das hat ja nicht das geringste zu tun mit dem, was das Kind eigentlich erlebt. Wenn das Kind eine Farbenzusammenstellung sieht, dann lebt es innerlich auf. Wenn man aber dem Kinde so etwas vorhält: VATER und dann soll es das, was sein Vater ist, irgendwie mit dem in Zusammenhang bringen - da macht natürlich das innere Menschenwesen Opposition.
Diese Dinge, wodurch sind sie denn entstanden? Denken Sie doch nur einmal, die alten Ägypter haben noch eine Bilderschrift gehabt. Da haben sie in dem, was sie bildhaft fixiert haben, eine Ähnlichkeit gehabt mit dem, was das bedeutet hat. Diese Bilderschrift hatte noch eine bestimmte Bedeutung - auch die Keilschrift hatte noch eine bestimmte Bedeutung, nur drückte diese mehr das willkürliche Element aus, während das gemüthafte Element mehr in der Bilderschrift ausgedrückt wurde - ja, bei diesen älteren Schriftformen, namentlich wenn man sie lesen sollte, kam einem das zum Bewußtsein: die hatten noch etwas zu tun mit dem, was dem Menschen in der Außenwelt gegeben ist. Aber diese Schnörkel da an der Tafel, die haben nichts zu tun mit dem «Vater», und just damit soll nun das Kind anfangen sich zu beschäftigen. Es ist gar kein Wunder, daß es das ablehnt.
Nämlich mit dem Schreiben und Lesen ist im Zahnwechselalter die menschliche Natur am wenigsten verwandt, mit jenem Schreiben und Lesen, wie wir es jetzt in der Zivilisation haben - denn das hat sich entwickelt dadurch, daß die Erwachsenen das Ursprüngliche fortgebildet haben. Nun soll das Kind, das erst jetzt in die Welt gekommen ist, das aufnehmen. Noch trat an das Kind nichts heran von all den Kulturfortschritten, und es soll sich jetzt plötzlich in ein späteres Stadium hineinfinden, das nichts damit zu tun hat, wo alles ausgelassen ist, was zwischen heute und Ägypten liegt. Ist es zu verwundern, daß das Kind sich da nicht hineinfinden kann? Bringen Sie dagegen das Rechnen in einer menschenmöglichen Form an das Kind heran, so werden Sie sehen, daß das Kind sich da hineinfindet; auch in geometrische einfache Formen findet es sich hinein. Schon im ersten Vortrage habe ich darauf hingedeutet, daß die Formen seelisch frei werden, und auch die Zahlen werden seelisch frei, indem wir mit dem Zahnwechsel überhaupt unser inneres System erhärten - und dadurch setzt sich seelisch ab, was dann im Rechnen und Zeichnen und so weiter zum Ausdruck kommt. Aber das Lesen und Schreiben ist zunächst um das 7. Jahr herum etwas der Menschennatur ganz Fremdes. Bitte ziehen Sie jetzt nicht den Schluß, daß ich behauptet hätte, man solle die Kinder nicht lesen und schreiben lehren. Ich werde die wirklichen Konsequenzen des Gesagten in den nächsten Tagen ziehen, um dann die Fragen sich beantworten zu lassen, wie man die Kinder schreiben und lesen lehrt. Denn man erzieht die Kinder ja nicht für sich, sondern für das Leben; sie müssen schreiben und lesen lernen. Es handelt sich bloß darum, wie man sie lehren soll, damit das der Menschennatur nicht widerspricht. Aber es ist im allgemeinen recht gut, wenn man sich gerade als Lehrender und Erziehender klarmacht, wie fremd das ist, was man aus der allgemeinen sozialen Kultur an das Kind heranzubringen nötig hat. Wie fremd das der kindlichen Natur ist, das soll man wissen und sich klar vor die Seele stellen. Das ist sehr notwendig.
Natürlich wird man dadurch nicht in den Fehler verfallen dürfen, eine ästhetisierende Erziehung zu schaffen, indem man sagt: Das Kind soll spielend lernen. Das ist eine der schlimmsten Redensarten, denn dadurch würde ein solcher Mensch nur zum Spieler werden im Leben. Das sagen nur Dilettanten der Pädagogik. Es handelt sich nicht darum, daß man vom Spiel dasjenige nimmt, was einem als Erwachsenem angenehm ist, sondern das, was gerade aus dem kindlichen Lebensalter beim Spiel herauskommt. Und da frage ich Sie: Ist dem Kinde das Spiel Spaß oder Ernst? Das Spiel ist dem gesunden Kinde durchaus nicht spaßhaft, sondern sehr ernst. Es fließt in wirklichem Ernst aus der menschlichen Organisation das Spiel heraus im kindlichen Alter. Treffen Sie nur diesen Ernst des Spiels für das schulpflichtige Alter, dann unterrichten Sie das Kind nicht spielend in dem Sinne, wie man es meint, sondern mit dem Ernste, den das Kind selber bei seinem Spiel hat. Es kommt überall auf die richtige Lebensbeobachtung an. Deshalb ist es ja auch zum Teil etwas bedauerlich, daß heute von allen Seiten her die Leute in dasjenige, was die feinste Lebensbeobachtung fordert, in das Erziehungs- und Unterrichtswesen, mit ihren dilettantischen Forderungen hereinkommen. Das ist sehr bedauerlich. Denn wir sind durch unsere intellektualistische Kultur endlich in ein solches Zeitalter hineingekommen, daß die Erwachsenen das Kind überhaupt nicht mehr verstehen, weil das Kind eine ganz andere Seele hat als der Erwachsene heute, der durchintellektualisiert ist. Wir müssen erst wiederum den Anschluß finden an die kindliche Natur. Und da handelt es sich darum, sich wirklich mit so etwas zu durchdringen, daß im ersten Lebensalter des Kindes bis zum Zahnwechsel hin das ganze Verhalten des Kindes einen leiblich-religiösen Zug hat; daß dann das ganze Verhalten des Kindes vom Zahnwechsel bis zur Geschlechtsreife ein Seelenleben hat, das aufs Bildhafte geht und das sich in bezug auf seine Bildhaftigkeit, auf ein gewisses Künstlerisch-Ästhetisches auch im Laufe dieser Lebensperiode wiederum mannigfaltig ändert.
Ist dann der Mensch bei der Geschlechtsreife angelangt, dann wird, was in der Sprache gewirkt hat, der astralische Leib in ihm frei, frei wirksam. Vorher hat er das, was bei der Sprache wirkt, zur Organisation des Leibes innerlich nötig. Dasjenige, was in der Sprache wirkt, auch in vielem anderen wirkt, in allem Formen, dem plastischen und musikalischen Formen wirkt, das wird jetzt frei. Das lernt der Mensch dann anwenden auf das Denken von der Geschlechtsreife ab; da wird er erst ein intellektualisierendes, logisches Wesen.
Und man kann ja sehen, wie dasjenige, was das Sprechen durchzuckt und durchströmt und durchwellt, noch einen letzten Ruck in den Körper hinein macht und dann frei wird. Schauen Sie sich den Knaben an, hören Sie ihm zu, wie verwandelt in dem Alter die Sprache durch die Geschlechtsreife wird. Das ist ebenso wie das Verwandeln beim Zahnwechsel um das 7. Jahr herum. Da ist noch der letzte Ruck, den der Astralleib hinein in den Körper macht, den also das, was im Sprechen zuckt und wirkt, in den Körper macht, wenn der Kehlkopf aus einem anderen Sprachunterton heraus zu sprechen beginnt. Beim Weiblichen ist es entsprechend auch so, nur in anderer Weise, nicht durch den Kehlkopf, sondern durch andere Organe. Der Mensch ist dann geschlechtsreif geworden.
Dann tritt er eben in dasjenige Lebensalter ein, wo maßgebend, ausschlaggebend für ihn jetzt nicht das ist, was vom Nerven-Sinnessystem in den ganzen Körper ausstrahlt, sondern maßgebend wird jetzt für ihn das Bewegungssystem, das Willenssystem, das innig zusammenhängt mit dem Stoffwechselsystem. Der Stoffwechsel lebt sich in der Bewegung aus. Und jetzt können wir auch an der Pathologie eben sehen, wie beim Erwachsenen vorzugsweise vom Stoffwechselsystem die Krankheit ausstrahlt - sogar die Migräne ist eine Stoffwechselkrankheit -, wie die Krankheiten nicht vom Kopf ausstrahlen, während beim Kinde alles vom Kopf ausstrahlt. Es ist einerlei, wo man die Krankheit bekommt, wissen muß man, von wo die Krankheit ausstrahlt.
Aber im volksschulmäßigen Alter ist das rhythmische System besonders engagiert; da gleicht sich alles aus, was zwischen dem Nerven-Sinnessystem und dem Stoffwechsel-Bewegungssystem drinnen lebt: dasjenige, was durch die Bewegung wirkt, wo fortwährend Verbrennungsprozesse stattfinden, die wiederum durch den Stoffwechsel ausgeglichen werden; dann, was im Stoffwechsel allmählich sich bereitet, um in das Blut überzugehen, die Form der Blutzirkulation anzunehmen - und wie das mit dem Atmungsprozefß, der rhythmisch ist, zusammenkommt, um dadurch erst wiederum in den NervenSinnesprozeß hineinzuwirken. Wir haben diese zwei Pole der Menschennatur: das Nerven-Sinnessystem auf der einen Seite, das Stoff wechsel-Bewegungssystem auf der anderen Seite, zwischendrinnen das rhythmische System.
Und sehen Sie, auf dieses rhythmische System müssen wir besonders hinschauen, wenn wir eben im menschlichen Lebenslaufe die Zeit haben zwischen dem Zahnwechsel und der Geschlechtsreife. Da kommt das rhythmische System zum Ausdruck - und dieses rhythmische System, das ist das Gesündeste im Menschen. Man muß es schon von außen krank machen, wenn es krank werden soll!
In dieser Beziehung gibt sich wiederum die heutige Beobachtungsweise ganz falschen Vorstellungen hin. Denken Sie doch nur einmal, daß man heute wiederum wissenschaftlich feststellt - womit nichts gegen die Wissenschaft gesagt sein soll, es ist in einer gewissen Art ganz richtig, ich betone das immer wiederum, sonst könnten Sie ja sehr leicht sagen: da wird die Wissenschaft verhöhnt. Gar nicht soll die Wissenschaft verhöhnt werden, sie soll durchaus anerkannt werden -, also die Wissenschaft stellt fest die Ermüdungskoeffizienten. Man stellt fest, wie stark das Kind beim Turnen ermüdet, wie stark das Kind beim Rechnen ermüdet und so weiter. Das ist ganz gut, ganz verdienstlich, wenn man das feststellt, aber man kann nicht den Unterricht darnach einrichten. Man kann nicht den Stundenplan darnach einrichten, wie stark das Kind ermüdet, denn man hat eine ganz andere Aufgabe: man soll nämlich wirken auf dasjenige System, das überhaupt im ganzen Leben nicht ermüdet. Ermüden kann eigentlich nur das Stoffwechsel-Bewegungssystem. Das ermüdet, und das überträgt seine Ermüdung auf die anderen Systeme. Aber kann denn das rhythmische System ermüden? Nein, es kann nicht ermüden, denn wenn das Herz nicht das ganze Leben hindurch schlüge, unermüdet, ohne jede Ermüdung, wenn der Atem nicht das ganze Leben hindurch ginge, unermüdet, ohne jede Ermüdung, so könnten wir nicht leben. Das rhythmische System ermüdet nicht.
Ermüden wir unsere Schüler durch irgend etwas zu stark, so beweist das nur, daß wir uns im richtigen Lebensalter, zwischen dem 7. und 14. Lebensjahr, zu wenig an das rhythmische System, das ganz im Bildhaften wiederum lebt und Ausdruck des Bildhaften ist, wenden. Wenn Sie den Rechenunterricht, den Schreibunterricht nicht bildhaft gestalten, so ermüden Sie die Kinder. Wenn Sie imstande sind, durch innerliche Frische im Momente entstehen zu lassen das Bildhafte im Kinde, dann ermüden Sie das Kind eben gerade nicht. Es ermüdet dann nur durch dasjenige, was im Bewegungssystem liegt, durch die Art und Weise, wie der Stuhl drückt, auf dem es sitzt, ob eine Schreibfeder ungeschickt eingerichtet ist, mit der es schreibt, und so weiter. Es handelt sich nicht darum, wie wir eine psychologische Pädagogik vorangehen lassen, um zu wissen, wie lange das Kind rechnen darf, damit es nicht zu stark ermüdet, sondern es handelt sich darum, wie wir richtig die verschiedenen Schulgegenstände an das rhythmische System heranbringen; wie wir aus der Erkenntnis des Menschenwesens heraus dasjenige, was wir an das Kind heranbringen sollen, eben wirklich heranbringen.
Und dazu müssen wir eben wissen, wie der Mensch eigentlich für das intellektualistische Leben, für das eigentliche Verstehen, mit der Geschlechtsreife erst erwacht, wie es ein persönlich vorbildhaftes Wirken sein muß, was eintreten muß zwischen dem Zahnwechsel und der Geschlechtsreife, was der Lehrende, der Erziehende für seine Jugend entwickelt. Daher ist diejenige Pädagogik, die aus wirklicher Menschenerkenntnis hervorgeht, so stark eine Gesinnungspädagogik, eine Pädagogik, die auf die Gesinnung des Lehrers vor allen Dingen wirken soll. Etwas extrem ausgesprochen möchte man sagen: Die Kinder sind ja schon recht, aber die Erwachsenen sind nur so wenig recht! Wir brauchen tatsächlich das, was ich schon am Schluß des ersten Vortrages gesagt habe: Wir brauchen gar nicht ein Herumreden, wie wir die Kinder behandeln sollen, sondern wir brauchen vor allen Dingen eine Erkenntnis, wie wir uns selber verhalten sollen als Lehrender und Erziehender. Wir brauchen Herz. Aber nicht bloß so, daß wir sagen: wir sollen nicht den Verstand, sondern das Herz des Kindes behandeln, pädagogisch und didaktisch, sondern wir brauchen eben - das möchte ich noch einmal betonen -, wir brauchen Herz für die Pädagogik selber.
Third lecture
Yesterday, I already pointed out how there is actually more to these three most important activities in a child's life, namely learning to walk, talk, and think. And one cannot observe human beings if one cannot distinguish their outer side from their inner side. If you want to treat people in an educational and didactic way, you have to acquire a keen sense of discernment with regard to what lies within the whole human being in terms of body, soul, and spirit.
Let us first approach what is popularly referred to as learning to walk. I have already said that this actually encompasses the whole way in which human beings balance themselves with the physical external world that surrounds them on earth. It encompasses the entire statics and dynamics of life. And we have also seen how this search for balance, this emancipation of the hands and arms from the legs and feet, in turn forms the basis for human speech; and how the ability to think is actually born out of the ability to speak. But there is something else that is essential in this dynamic-static system that humans acquire through walking. I already hinted at this yesterday, but we need to look at it in more detail. Just consider that human beings, especially in early childhood but also until they lose their baby teeth, are essentially sensory organs. This means that, first of all, as a whole human being, they are receptive to everything that affects them from their environment; but on the other hand, they are also inclined to reproduce within themselves what affects them in their environment. In a sense – let's take one sensory organ as an example – they are entirely eye. Just as the eye receives impressions from the outside world, and just as the eye, through its own organization, reproduces what occurs in its environment, so the whole human being, in the first period of life, internally reproduces what happens in his environment. But he takes in what happens in his environment with a peculiar form of inner experience. When we as children see our father or mother move their hand or arm, we immediately feel an inner urge to make the same movement. And from general fidgeting and irregular movements, we progress to specific movements by imitating the movements of our surroundings. This is how children learn to walk. We do not have to see walking as being influenced by heredity to the same degree as is currently fashionable in science – it is only a fashion to appeal to heredity everywhere – but the fact that one child walks on its heels and another on its toes also stems from imitation of the father or mother or someone else. And the decisive factor in this choice, one might say, of the child, whether it follows more the father or more the mother, is – if I may put it this way – the affection that appears between the lines of life for the person whom the child imitates. This is really a subtle psychological-physiological process that cannot be grasped with the crude means of today's scientific theory of heredity. I would like to say: just as the finer particles fall through the sieve and only the coarser ones remain, so too does what is actually taking place fall through the sieve of today's worldviews, and only the coarse similarities between the child and the father or mother, and so on, remain. But these are the coarsenesses of life that remain, not the subtleties. And the teacher, the educator, needs a keen power of observation for what is specifically human.
Now one might say: Certainly, love must prevail precisely for the one special being to whom the child is oriented. But when one considers the manifestations of love in later life, even when the person has become very loving, one comes to the conclusion that one does not even do enough for the special characteristics that prevail in the child if one merely says: The child chooses according to love. For the child chooses according to something even higher than love. It chooses according to what, when we look for it in later life, is religious devotion. This seems very paradoxical, but it is so. The child's entire sensory-physical behavior, in which it imitates everything, is an expression of the fact that until the change of teeth, the human body strives—gradually diminishing, of course, but particularly strongly in early childhood—to experience feelings that later find expression only in religious devotion or participation in cultic acts. When the human body enters physical life, it is completely immersed in religious needs, and love is later a weakening of what is actually a feeling of religious devotion. We can say that until the change of teeth, the child is essentially an imitative being, but the form of experience that flows through this imitation like the blood of life is – you will not misunderstand the expression, for in order to describe something that is so foreign to contemporary culture, one must sometimes use foreign expressions – it is physical religion. Until they lose their baby teeth, children live in physical religion. One should not underestimate those very subtle, one might say imponderable, influences that emanate from the child's environment through mere observation in their need to imitate. One should not underestimate this, because it is the most important thing for a child's age. We will see what enormously significant pedagogical and didactic results emerge from this.
Well, isn't it true that when today's natural science approaches such things, they seem enormously crude? I would like to cite once again a fact that can be easily understood in this context: namely, the mathematizing horses that caused such a stir for a time. I have not seen the Elberfeld horses, but I have been able to study in detail the horse of Mr. von Osten, who played a major role in Berlin for a certain period of time. It was truly astonishing how well this horse could calculate. Well, the matter caused quite a stir, and a very detailed treatise was published by a private lecturer who had come to the conclusion that this horse had the peculiarity of being able to perceive the very subtle expressions that humans cannot perceive, the very subtle expressions that Mr. von Osten has when he stands next to the horse. And when Mr. von Osten gives it a math problem, he already has the answer in his head and makes a very subtle expression; the horse perceives this and stamps its foot when it perceives this expression. Of course, if one thought even more precisely than today's exact natural sciences, one could now ask this private lecturer how he intends to prove this. He could not prove it. But you see, my observations led me to believe that something else entirely was significant for the whole course of events. Mr. von Osten had large sacks in his brown-gray coat, and while he was demonstrating, he kept putting sugar cubes, small candies, into the horse's mouth. This created a particularly intimate, physically intimate relationship between the horse and Mr. von Osten, and it was on this intimate physical relationship, on this constantly maintained affection, that the spiritual relationship between the man and his horse was based. And it is a much more intimate process than the external, intellectual observation of expressions: it is in fact a spiritual communication.
If this can already be observed in animals in such a case, then you must be aware of the spiritual communication that is present in childhood, when it can still be radiated by this religious devotion – how everything that the child acquires arises from this religious orientation of the soul, which is still completely in the body. And anyone who can observe how the child is influenced from outside by this religious devotion to its surroundings, and who can distinguish between what happens in this way and what the child still pours into this statics and dynamics individually, will then already find the impulses of later destiny predisposed in this physical expression of the child. You see, it is very strange, but absolutely true, what, for example, a person like Goethe's friend Knebel said to Goethe in his old age: When we look back on life, we find very easily that when we have a decisive event in life and when we trace what preceded it, it is as if we were steered toward this decisive event, as if not only the preceding step, but many preceding steps had been such that we strove toward it out of an inner soul impulse.
If the event in question is connected with a personality, then when a person can really detach themselves from the hustle and bustle of life and look at the finer sensations, they will also say to themselves: It is not merely an illusion, a dream, but if you have found a person at a certain stage of life with whom you want to be more intimately connected than with other people, then you have actually sought them out. You already knew them before you saw them for the first time. The most intimate things in life are closely connected with this finding one's place in the static and dynamic aspects of life. And anyone who acquires the ability to observe in this direction will find that the destinies of life express themselves in a strangely pictorial form in the way the child begins to walk, the way the child begins to bend its knees, the way it begins to use its fingers. All this is not merely something material and external; all this is precisely the image of the most spiritual aspect of the human being.
At first, when it is only learning its mother tongue, it is the circle of the people, no longer the narrower circle of those personalities who make up a more intimate social milieu. The circle has widened. As the child lives its way into the language, it already adapts to something that is no longer as narrow as what it adapts to with statics and dynamics. Therefore, we can say that the child lives its way into the genius of the people, the genius of language, through speaking. And since language is thoroughly spiritual, the child lives its way into something spiritual, but no longer into the individual spiritual, which then becomes fateful, immediately personally fateful for it, but into something that the child takes up into a larger circle of life.
And when the child then learns to think – yes, in thinking we are no longer individual. In New Zealand, people think just as we think here today. There, it is the whole world that one adapts to by developing thinking out of language. So with language we are still within a smaller circle of life; in thinking we are within the whole of humanity. Thus we expand our circle of life in walking, speaking, and thinking. And if one has the power of discernment, one will discover the profound specific differences between those human expressions of life that lie in the acquisition of statics and dynamics with destiny. And we see at work within this what we have become accustomed to calling, in anthroposophy, the I-being of the human being. We do not want to cultivate an abstract distinction, but only to fix what is specific and at work in the human being. We also see that something quite different from this very individual human nature comes out in language. That is why we say: the astral body of the human being is at work in language. This astral body can also be observed in animals, but in animals it does not work outwardly, but more inwardly, shaping the form of the animal. We also form our form, but we take a little away from this form-forming element, so to speak, and use it to develop language. So the astral body is at work here. And in thinking, which is then quite general, which in turn is something specific that is different from the other, in thinking we form that which we delimit in such a way that we say: the etheric body of the human being is at work here. And only in sensory perception does the whole physical body of the human being come into play.
For my sake, take these things initially as the establishment of a terminology; that is not important now. These are really not all kinds of philosophical speculations, but rather a strong indication of life itself. This must underlie that knowledge of human beings which in turn can lead to true pedagogy and didactics.
So we see, in a sense, that the highest comes out first, the ego, then the astral body, then the etheric body. And we then see the whole spiritual-soul aspect, which works in the ego, astral body, and etheric body, continuing to work on the physical body until the teeth change. All of this works within the physical body.
With the change of teeth, a great change takes place in the whole life of the child. We can observe this change first of all in a certain element. You see, what is it that is really decisive in the child? It is really what I have just characterized, this physical-religious devotion to the environment. That is really the decisive factor. Now the child goes through the change of teeth and then acquires a certain soul-spiritual constitution, especially at the elementary school age between the change of teeth and sexual maturity. Now you see: what has a physical effect on the human being in the first period of life only comes to the fore as thoughts in later life, when the human being has already gone through sexual maturity. It is not at all the case that the child already has such thinking that could be connected in the child with the experience of religious devotion. These two things stand in such a relationship to each other in childhood — initially until the change of teeth, but still until sexual maturity — that they, I would say, keep each other at a distance. Even between the change of teeth and sexual maturity, the child's thinking does not yet grasp the religious element. It is like those Alpine rivers that spring up there and then seem to disappear into the caves of the mountains, continuing to flow down below and then reappearing and continuing to flow above. What appears as religious devotion in childhood up to the change of teeth recedes into the inner being and becomes entirely spiritual, so that one sees it disappear, and only later, when the person truly becomes a religious being, does it reappear, now taking hold of the imagination and thinking.
When one can observe something like this, then external observation – which I do not criticize at all, which I find entirely justified, as I said in the first lecture, but which cannot directly form the basis for the art of education – only then does this observation become meaningful. You see, experimental educational psychology has found that it is very strange how children of parents who constantly express their religious beliefs in words and want to instill religion in their children, so to speak, perform poorly in religion at school; how there is the slightest correlation coefficient between the religious school performance of children of compulsory school age and the religious beliefs of their parents. These correlation coefficients are very low.
Yes, you see, when you look into the human being, you see the reasons for this phenomenon. No matter how much parents talk about their religious beliefs, no matter how many beautiful things they say to their children, it has no meaning for the child; the child ignores it. The child ignores everything that is supposed to affect the mind, even what is supposed to affect the heart, until the child's teeth change. It only does not pass them by if the personalities in the child's environment, through their actions, their gestures, and the way they behave, give the child the opportunity to imitate them in religious devotion and to absorb the religious into the finest structures of the vascular system. Then, between the ages of about seven and fourteen, this is processed within the human being; it continues down there, just as the river continues down there, and only reappears in the child's imagination when they reach sexual maturity. So we should not be surprised that, no matter how many external formulas of piety and religious sentiments are presented to the child, none of it has any effect. We see only what is effective in the actions that surround the child – everything else passes the child by. Paradoxically, the child passes by the words and admonitions, even the attitudes of its parents, just as indifferently as the eye passes by everything that is not color. The child is, through and through, an imitative being until it loses its baby teeth.
With the change of teeth, a great change occurs in the child. This physical-religious devotion ceases. We need not be surprised if the child, who has not noticed anything of all the religious sentiment, now proves to be quite different between the change of teeth and sexual maturity. But what I have just said proves to us that the child only actually develops intellectual understanding with sexual maturity. The child's thinking does not yet grasp the intellectual, but the child's thinking from the change of teeth to sexual maturity is only connected with everything that has a pictorial effect on the child. Images affect the senses. In the first period of life, up to the change of teeth, only the images of events and activities in the environment have any effect. Then, with the change of teeth, the child begins to take in what is pictorial. And we must pour this pictorial element above all into everything through which we now bring to the child in an excellent way what needs to be brought to it, namely through language.
I have now described to you everything that comes to the child through the static-dynamic element. But with language, much more comes to the child, an enormous amount. Language is only one link in an extensive chain of soul experiences. And all those soul experiences that belong to the circle of language are artistic soul experiences. Language itself is an artistic element. And the artistic element is what we must take into account, especially for the elementary school age, for the age of the child from the change of teeth to sexual maturity.
Do not think that I am now advocating an aesthetic education, replacing the first elements of teaching with all kinds of artificial and artistic, perhaps even justified artistic, elements. I certainly do not want that. I certainly do not want to replace the philistine element, which is so decisive in our present civilization, with the bohemian element. For our Czech friends, I would like to note that by bohemian element I do not mean a national element, nothing scenic, but rather that which lives so sloppily in life, without a sense of duty, without rules, without seriousness. So it is not a question of the unregulated, the unserious, taking the place of the philistine element that has entered our civilization, but of something quite different for the age from the change of teeth to sexual maturity. One must simply observe how the child's entire thinking is not yet logical, but rather pictorial. And because of its inner nature, the child initially rejects the logical; it wants the pictorial. Intelligent people do not yet make a very strong impression on seven-, nine-, eleven-, or even thirteen-year-old children. These children are still fairly indifferent to people's intelligence. But fresh people, amiable people, make a strong impression; those who speak in such a way that even their words – well, to put it somewhat extremely – express tenderness, those who can caress with words, who can praise with the intonation of their words. These people, who go through life with freshness but without recklessness, are the ones who have a special effect on children of this age. And it is this personal effect that matters. For with the change of teeth, the child's devotion awakens, no longer to the actions of those around them alone, but to what people say. What people say, what is acquired through natural authority, is the most essential element of a child's life from the change of teeth to sexual maturity.
You will not believe me, who wrote “The Philosophy of Freedom” more than 30 years ago, that I advocate authority in an inappropriate way; but for the child from the change of teeth to sexual maturity, life under natural authority is a spiritual law of nature. And those who have never learned at this age to look up to the natural authority of their educational and teaching environment can never become free, can never become free human beings. Freedom is acquired precisely through devotion to authority at this age.
Just as the child imitates what is done in its environment in the first phase of life, so in the second phase of life it follows what is said in its environment – said in a comprehensive sense, of course. And tremendous things flow into the child through language, which, however, demands imagery from the child. You see, when you observe how what is laid down when a child first learns to speak is pursued by the child in a dreamlike way until the change of teeth and only then awakens, you get an idea of what comes to the child through our use of language in the child's environment in the second stage of life. Therefore, at this age in particular, special consideration must be given to how the child can be influenced by what language sets the tone for. Everything must be presented to the child in a way that speaks to them – and what is not presented to the child in a way that speaks to them, the child does not understand. Describing a plant to a child is like asking the eye to understand the word “red”; it only understands the color red. The child understands nothing of the description of a plant; but it immediately begins to understand when you tell it how the plant speaks and acts. You have to treat the child according to human knowledge. We will see more of this in the pedagogical-didactic part; what I am saying now is more of a foundation.
So we see what we encounter in the child as predisposed in the trinity of walking, speaking, and thinking, united in the pictorial element. Strangely enough, what the child first absorbed in a dreamlike way from the actions of its surroundings is transformed into images in this second stage of life, from the change of teeth to sexual maturity. The child begins, one might say, to dream about what its surroundings are doing, whereas in the first period of life it perceived everything in a very sober way, sober in its own way, by imitating it internally. Now it begins to dream about what its surroundings are doing. And the thoughts of childlike thinking are not yet abstract, not yet logical thoughts; they are still images. In that artistic element, that aesthetic element, that pictorial element, in which language sets the tone, the child lives from the change of teeth to sexual maturity, and only that which is immersed in this pictoriality comes to it from us as adults. Therefore, the child's memory develops especially for this age.
Now I am going to say something that will naturally give learned psychologists today a slight shudder, a kind of goose bumps, when I say: the child only acquires memory when it starts losing its baby teeth. But the reason for this slight shudder, these goose bumps, is simply that one cannot observe these things. You see, when someone says that the memory that appears in children when they start losing their baby teeth was even stronger in the past, because children have a natural memory they remember all kinds of things much more easily than we remember them later — yes, that's true, but it's true in the same way that someone says: a dog is still a wolf, it's no different from a wolf. And if you then say to them: a dog has gone through different living conditions, it may have evolved from a wolf, but it is no longer a wolf, then they say: yes, what is present in a tame way in a dog is more present in a wolf, a wolf bites more than a dog. - That is how it is when people say that memory is stronger in children than in later life, after the change of teeth. One must really be able to respond to the observation of what is actual, what is real.
What is this special kind of memory in children, from which later memory derives? In children, it is still habit. In children, who assimilate everything through imitation, an inner, refined habit when they perceive the word, and from this habit, from what later appears as habit, from a specially developed habit that is still a more physical characteristic, emerges what later, from the change of teeth onwards, becomes the habit that has become spiritual, the memory. One must distinguish the habit that has become spiritual from the merely physical habit, just as one distinguishes the dog from the wolf, otherwise one cannot cope.
And now one will also sense the connection between the pictorial nature in which the whole of the child's soul life is contained and the emergence of the soul-filled habit, the actual memory, which works primarily in images.
In all things, it is important to acquire a keen observation of human nature. Then you will also notice the great divide between the age preceding the change of teeth in children and the age that follows. This divide is particularly noticeable in the pathological conditions that occur. Anyone who has an eye for this knows that childhood illnesses look very different from adult illnesses. As a rule, even the same complex of external symptoms has a completely different origin in children than it does in adults, where it is not quite the same, but similar. In children, the characteristic forms of illness actually all originate in the head and spread to the rest of the organism through a kind of overexcitement of the nervous sensory system. This is true even for childhood measles and scarlet fever. And if we observe this, we find that in childhood, when walking, speaking, and thinking are separate activities, all these activities originate in the child's head. The head is most plastically formed internally during the change of teeth. It then spreads what are internal forces to the rest of the organism. This is why childhood diseases also radiate from the head. The way in which childhood diseases occur shows that they are primarily a reaction to states of excitement in the nervous and sensory systems. Only when we know this can we find the correct pathology of childhood diseases. If we look at adults, we see that their diseases radiate primarily from the abdominal and locomotor systems, i.e., from the opposite pole of the human being.
In between childhood, when the nervous and sensory systems can suffer from overexcitement, and adulthood after sexual maturity, lies the school-age period – from the change of teeth to sexual maturity. In the middle of this lies everything I have described to you, this pictorial soul life. On the outside, this is reflected in the rhythmic system of the human being, the interaction of breathing and blood circulation. How breathing and blood circulation harmonize internally, how the child breathes at school, how breathing gradually adapts to blood circulation, this usually happens between the ages of 9 and 10. While breathing is predominant until the age of 9, a kind of harmony then emerges between the pulse and the breaths through an inner struggle in the organism, and blood circulation then becomes predominant. This is present physically on the one hand and psychologically on the other.
All the child's powers, having gone through the change of teeth, strive for an inner plastic imagery. And we support this pictoriality when we ourselves approach the child pictorially with everything we pass on to them. Then, between the ages of 9 and 10, something remarkable happens. The child wants to be captivated by music much more than before, to be captivated by rhythms. If we observe the child in relation to musical absorption up to this point in life between the ages of 9 and 10 – observe how music actually lives vividly in the child, how it naturally becomes part of the inner plasticity of the body, how music in the child also transitions extremely easily into dance-like movement: we must recognize how the actual inner grasp of music only occurs between the ages of 9 and 10. This will be very clearly noticeable. Of course, things are not so strictly distinguished from one another, and those who understand this will cultivate music before the age of 9, but in the right way — tending more toward the side I have just characterized; otherwise the child would experience a shock between the ages of 9 and 10 when the musical element suddenly approached them and now gripped them inwardly, while they were completely unaccustomed to being gripped inwardly in such a strong way.
And so we see how the child, from its inner being, counters certain manifestations and revelations of the outside world with inner demands and inner needs. When one learns about these inner demands and inner needs in the way I have just described, one does not merely learn about them theoretically, but one learns to recognize them in the child itself: now this is sprouting out of it, now something else. Then such knowledge of life really becomes not theory, but instinct. An instinctive observation of the child comes to light, whereas otherwise all observation leads only to theories – and one has to apply the theories externally and remains, in essence, completely alien to the child. You don't need to give the child candy to establish intimacy; you have to bring it about through emotional conditions. But the most important element is the emotional connection between the teacher and the student at elementary school age. That is what is particularly important.
What wants to come out of the child actually comes out of the child with a great inner necessity. And the educator and teacher who can see through the child from all the sources I have characterized actually becomes very modest little by little, because he gradually learns how little one can actually approach the child with easy means. However, we will see that education and teaching nevertheless have their good reasons and, if we practice them in the right way, enable us to reach the child – precisely because most education is self-education. But we must also realize that the child brings something very specific, even in every aspect of life, to the outside world, that is, to us as educators and teachers. And we should not be surprised when we bring something to the child and the child – unconsciously, because conscious life is not yet so well developed – unconsciously offers us a certain opposition.
Through its inner nature, once the child has gone through the change of teeth, it demands that we present to it in external forms and colors that which springs from its own organization. I will talk about this later. But what the child does not demand, what the child certainly does not demand at the age of tooth replacement, what it rejects internally with strong opposition, is that once it has learned to say A as a human expression of wonder, it should then write such a strange symbol for this A on the blackboard or on paper! This has nothing to do with what the child actually experiences. When the child sees a combination of colors, it comes alive inside. But when you hold something like this up to the child: FATHER, and then it is supposed to somehow connect what its father is with that – naturally, the inner human being opposes this.
How did these things come about? Just think, the ancient Egyptians still had pictorial writing. What they fixed pictorially had a similarity to what it meant. This pictorial script still had a specific meaning – cuneiform script also had a specific meaning, but it expressed the arbitrary element more, while the emotional element was expressed more in pictorial script – yes, with these older forms of writing, especially when you had to read them, you became aware that they still had something to do with what is given to human beings in the outside world. But these squiggles on the blackboard have nothing to do with the “father,” and this is precisely what the child is now supposed to start dealing with. It is no wonder that it rejects it.
Namely, writing and reading are the least related to human nature at the age of tooth replacement, that writing and reading as we now have it in civilization — for that has developed as a result of adults further developing the original form. Now the child, who has only just come into the world, is supposed to take this in. The child has not yet been exposed to any of the advances of culture, and now it is suddenly supposed to find its way into a later stage that has nothing to do with it, where everything between today and Egypt has been left out. Is it any wonder that the child cannot find its way into it? If, on the other hand, you introduce arithmetic to the child in a form that is humanly possible, you will see that the child can find its way into it; it can also find its way into simple geometric forms. In the first lecture, I already pointed out that forms become psychologically free, and numbers also become psychologically free when we consolidate our inner system with the change of teeth – and this is what is expressed psychologically in arithmetic and drawing and so on. But reading and writing are initially, around the age of 7, something completely foreign to human nature. Please do not conclude from this that I am saying children should not be taught to read and write. I will draw the real conclusions from what I have said in the next few days, and then answer the questions of how to teach children to read and write. After all, we do not educate children for ourselves, but for life; they must learn to read and write. It is simply a question of how to teach them so that it does not contradict human nature. But it is generally quite good for teachers and educators to realize how foreign it is to introduce children to general social culture. One should be aware of how foreign this is to a child's nature and keep this clearly in mind. This is very necessary.
Of course, this should not lead to the mistake of creating an aesthetic education by saying: Children should learn through play. This is one of the worst sayings, because it would only turn such a person into a player in life. Only dilettantes of pedagogy say this. It is not a question of taking from play what is pleasant for an adult, but what comes out of play at the child's age. And so I ask you: Is play fun or serious for the child? Play is by no means fun for healthy children, but very serious. Play flows out of the human organism with real seriousness in childhood. If you meet this seriousness of play for school-age children, then you will not teach the child through play in the sense that is commonly understood, but with the seriousness that the child itself has in its play. It all depends on the right observation of life. That is why it is somewhat regrettable that today, from all sides, people are entering the field of education and teaching, which requires the finest observation of life, with their amateurish demands. This is very regrettable. For our intellectualistic culture has finally brought us into an age in which adults no longer understand children at all, because children have a completely different soul than today's adults, who are thoroughly intellectualized. We must first reconnect with childlike nature. And this involves really understanding that in the first years of a child's life, up to the change of teeth, the child's entire behavior has a physical-religious character; that from the change of teeth to sexual maturity, the child's entire behavior has a soul life that tends toward the pictorial and, in relation to its pictorial nature, to a certain artistic-aesthetic quality, also changes in many ways during this period of life.
When the human being reaches sexual maturity, what has been at work in language becomes free, freely effective in the astral body within them. Before this, they need what is at work in language for the internal organization of the body. What is at work in language is also at work in many other things, in all forms, in plastic and musical forms, and this now becomes free. From the age of sexual maturity, human beings learn to apply this to their thinking; only then do they become intellectual, logical beings.
And one can see how that which flashes through, flows through, and ripples through speech makes one last jolt into the body and then becomes free. Look at the boy, listen to him, how speech is transformed at that age by sexual maturity. It is just like the transformation that occurs when teeth change around the age of 7. There is still the last jolt that the astral body makes into the body, that is, what twitches and acts in speech makes into the body when the larynx begins to speak with a different undertone. It is the same with females, only in a different way, not through the larynx, but through other organs. The human being has then reached sexual maturity.
Then they enter the age of life where what is decisive for them is no longer what radiates from the nervous-sensory system throughout the whole body, but rather the motor system, the will system, which is closely connected with the metabolic system. Metabolism lives out in movement. And now we can also see in pathology how, in adults, disease radiates primarily from the metabolic system—even migraine is a metabolic disease—how diseases do not radiate from the head, whereas in children everything radiates from the head. It does not matter where you get the disease, you have to know where the disease radiates from.
But at elementary school age, the rhythmic system is particularly active; everything that lives between the nervous-sensory system and the metabolic-motor system is balanced: that which works through movement, where combustion processes take place continuously, which in turn are balanced by the metabolism; then what is gradually prepared in the metabolism to pass into the blood, to take the form of blood circulation — and how this comes together with the respiratory process, which is rhythmic, in order to then in turn influence the nerve-sense process. We have these two poles of human nature: the nervous-sensory system on the one hand, the metabolic-movement system on the other, and in between the rhythmic system.
And you see, we must pay particular attention to this rhythmic system when we have the time between the change of teeth and sexual maturity in the human life course. This is when the rhythmic system comes to the fore – and this rhythmic system is the healthiest thing in human beings. You have to make it sick from the outside if you want it to become sick!
In this regard, today's approach to observation is again based on completely false ideas. Just think about the fact that today, science has once again established – and this is not meant to be a criticism of science, it is in a certain sense quite correct, I always emphasize this, otherwise you could very easily say that science is being mocked. Science should not be mocked at all; it should be fully recognized. So science determines the fatigue coefficients. It determines how much a child tires during gymnastics, how much a child tires during arithmetic, and so on. It is quite good and commendable to determine this, but one cannot organize teaching according to it. You cannot organize the timetable according to how tired the child gets, because you have a completely different task: you should work on the system that never tires in the whole of life. Only the metabolic-muscular system can actually tire. It tires, and it transfers its fatigue to the other systems. But can the rhythmic system tire? No, it cannot tire, because if the heart did not beat throughout life, tirelessly, without any fatigue, if the breath did not continue throughout life, tirelessly, without any fatigue, we could not live. The rhythmic system does not tire.
If we tire our students too much with anything, it only proves that we are paying too little attention to the rhythmic system, which lives entirely in the pictorial and is an expression of the pictorial, at the right age, between 7 and 14 years of age. If you do not make arithmetic and writing lessons pictorial, you will tire the children. If you are able to bring forth the pictorial in the child through inner freshness in the moment, then you will not tire the child. The child will only tire from what lies in the motor system, from the way the chair on which it sits presses, from whether the pen with which it writes is awkwardly designed, and so on. It is not a question of how we proceed with psychological pedagogy in order to know how long the child is allowed to do arithmetic so that it does not become too tired, but rather how we correctly bring the various school subjects into line with the rhythmic system; how, based on our knowledge of the human being, we really bring to the child what we should bring to it.
And to do this, we need to know how the human being actually awakens to intellectual life, to true understanding, with sexual maturity, how it must be a personally exemplary influence, what must happen between the change of teeth and sexual maturity, what the teacher, the educator, develops for his youth. That is why pedagogy that arises from a true understanding of human nature is so strongly a pedagogy of attitude, a pedagogy that should above all influence the attitude of the teacher. To put it somewhat extremely, one might say: Children are already quite right, but adults are so wrong! We really need what I said at the end of the first lecture: we don't need to talk about how we should treat children, but above all we need to understand how we ourselves should behave as teachers and educators. We need heart. But not just in the sense that we say we should treat the child's heart rather than their mind, pedagogically and didactically, but we need – and I would like to emphasize this once again – we need heart for pedagogy itself.