The Rudolf Steiner Archive

Twelfth Lecture

[ 1 ] One must not ignore the fact that human relationships with the environment are far more complex than the scope of what we are always conscious of. From a wide variety of perspectives, I have indeed attempted to clarify for you the nature and significance of unconscious and subconscious psychological processes. And particularly in the fields of pedagogy and didactics, it is of great importance that a person be educated in a way that corresponds not only to their consciousness but also to their subconscious, as well as to their subconscious and unconscious psychological forces. If one wishes to be a true educator and teacher, one must therefore attend to the subtleties of the human being.

[ 2 ] We have learned about the three stages of human development that occur between the change of teeth and sexual maturity and that coincide, in particular, with elementary school and the early years of middle school. We must simply be aware that, especially during the last of these life stages, the subconscious plays a major role alongside the conscious mind—a role that has significance for the entire course of a person’s future life.

[ 3 ] By looking at the matter from a different angle, I would like to make clear to you what lies at the heart of the issue.

[ 4 ] Just think how many people today ride on electric trains without having the faintest idea of what actually powers them. Just imagine how many people today simply watch the steam engine—in the form of a locomotive—whiz by without having the slightest idea of the physical and mechanical processes that enable it to move. Consider, then, how such ignorance shapes our relationship as human beings to the environment we actually make use of. We live within a world created by human beings, shaped by human thought—a world we use yet understand nothing about. This fact—that we understand nothing of something shaped by human beings, which is essentially the result of human thought—has great significance for the entire mood of the human soul and spirit. People really just have to numb themselves so that they do not perceive the effects that originate from this side.

[ 5 ] It’s always a great pleasure to see people from the—well, how should one put it so as not to offend—from the higher social classes walk into a factory and feel quite uncomfortable. This is because they feel a sensation welling up from their subconscious: they use everything that is produced in this factory, yet as human beings they actually have not the slightest connection to what goes on there. They know nothing about it. If one even notices this unease—to take a familiar example—when a regular cigarette smoker walks into the Waldorf-Astoria cigarette factory and has no idea what happens there to produce the cigarettes he smokes, then one is already pleased that people can at least still perceive their own ignorance of the environment—shaped by human thought—in which they live and whose products they use. And when people who know nothing about how the electric railway operates always board and exit the train with a slight sense of unease, then one is already glad. For this sense of unease is already the first step toward improvement in this area. The worst thing is to experience the world created by human beings without caring about that world.

[ 6 ] We can only counteract these tendencies if we begin doing so as early as the final stage of elementary school education, if we truly do not let children leave school at ages 15 or 16 without having at least a basic understanding of the most important life skills. So that they develop a longing to be curious and eager to learn at every opportunity about what is happening in their surroundings, and then, out of this curiosity and thirst for knowledge, further develop their understanding. We should therefore, toward the end of their school years, use the individual subjects in a comprehensive sense to foster the child’s social development—just as we use the various elements of geography according to the model I presented in my last lecture as a kind of overall structure of the geographical realm. That is to say, we should not fail to use the concepts of physical and natural history that we have acquired to introduce the child to the workings of at least those industrial systems that are most relevant to them. By the age of 15 or 16, the child should generally have gained an understanding of what goes on in a soap factory or a spinning mill. Naturally, the aim will be to conduct these matters as economically as possible. In every comprehensive enterprise, it is possible to develop a summary that condenses the complex processes taking place into a very basic form. I believe Mr. Molt will agree with me when I say that, if we proceeded economically, we could teach a child the entire manufacturing process of cigarette production—even from start to finish—summarized in a few short sentences, which would only need to be made understandable through the rest of the curriculum. Teaching children certain summaries of various branches of industry in this way is of the greatest benefit to young people aged 13, 14, 15, and 16. If a person were to compile a sort of notebook during these years—one that included entries on soap manufacturing, cigarette manufacturing, spinning mills, weaving mills, and so on—that would be very good. There is no need to teach them mechanical or chemical technology on a broad scale right away, but if the child could compile such a notebook, they would benefit greatly from it. Even if the notebook were to be lost, the residue would remain. For a person would not only benefit from knowing these things, but the most important thing is that, as they go through life and their profession, they feel: they once knew these things; they once worked through them. This, in fact, affects the confidence with which they act. It affects the confidence with which a person engages with the world. This is very important for a person’s capacity for will and decision-making. You will not be able to have people with strong initiative in any profession if these people do not stand in the world in such a way that, even regarding matters outside their profession, they have the feeling that they once acquired—albeit rudimentary—knowledge of them. They may have forgotten it, but the residue, the remnant of it, has remained with them. Of course, we also learn a great deal in school. And in hands-on lessons—which so often degenerate into platitudes—students are taught such things as well; but one can experience that later on, the feeling is entirely absent: “I went through that, and I was lucky to have gone through it”—but rather the feeling: “Thank God I’ve forgotten that, and it’s good that I’ve forgotten what I learned there.”—We should never evoke this feeling in people. Countless things will spring up from the subconscious if we were taught in our childhood in such a way that what I just described was observed, when we later enter a workplace or the like. Today, everything in life is specialized. This specialization is actually terrible. And the main reason there is so much specialization in life is that we already begin to specialize in the classroom.

[ 7 ] What has been explained there could be summarized as follows: Everything a child learns during their school years should ultimately be broadened in such a way that it weaves its way into every aspect of practical human life. In this way, a great many things that are currently antisocial could be made social, so that—at least in our context—an understanding would take root of what, in later life, will not be directly related to our profession.

[ 8 ] For example, what is currently being observed in the outside world should also be taken into account in those areas of life that are still based on older, sound—albeit perhaps still atavistic—educational principles. I would like to point out a very remarkable phenomenon in this regard. When we—who are now elderly—started middle school in Austria, we had relatively good geometry and arithmetic textbooks. They have now disappeared. A few years ago, I scoured all sorts of used bookstores in Vienna to find older geometry books, because I wanted to see with my own eyes once again what we boys, for example, had experienced to our delight in Wiener Neustadt: When we started first grade in middle school, on the very first day the second-graders would always come out into the hallway and shout: “Fialkowskiy, Fialkowskiy, he has to be paid tomorrow!”—That is to say, as first-graders, we’d take Fialkowskiy’s geometry book from the second-graders and bring them the money the next day. I’ve come across another “Fialkowskiy” like that, and it delighted me greatly because it shows that, following this older tradition, people were actually able to write much better geometry textbooks for schools than they did later on. For today’s textbooks, which have replaced them, are actually quite dreadful. The situation is particularly bad in the areas of arithmetic and geometry instruction. — But if one thinks back just a little and considers the generations that came before us and those we had before us, there were even better textbooks back then. Almost all of them originated from the school of the Austrian Benedictines. It was the Benedictines who wrote the mathematics and geometry textbooks, and they were very good because the Benedictines are the Catholic order that places great emphasis on ensuring its members receive a solid education in geometry and mathematics. It is generally considered a Benedictine principle that it is actually nonsense for someone to ascend the pulpit and speak to the people without knowing geometry and mathematics.

[ 9 ] This ideal of unity, which fills the human soul, must permeate the entire educational process. There must be a part of the whole world alive in every profession. And in particular, there must be something inherent in the profession’s opposites—in those things one believes one can hardly ever apply in one’s profession. One must engage with what is, so to speak, the opposite of one’s own profession. But one will only develop this longing if one is taught in the way I have just described.

[ 10 ] It was precisely during the period when materialism had become widespread—in the last third of the 19th century—that this materialism had also penetrated pedagogy to such a degree that specialization was considered very important. Do not believe that it has an idealistic effect on the child if you avoid showing him the connection between the curriculum and practical life during the final years of his elementary school education and the first years of his secondary school education. Do not believe that the child will become more idealistic in later life if, during these years, you have them write essays about all sorts of sentimental views of the world—about the gentleness of the lamb, the ferocity of the lion, and the like, or about nature permeated by God. You are not fostering idealism in the child in this way. In fact, you will be far more effective in fostering idealism in the child if you do not attack this idealism so directly—so brutally directly. Why, then, have people in modern times become so irreligious? Simply because sermons are far too sentimental and abstract. That is why people have become so irreligious—because the Church pays so little attention to the divine commandments. For example, there is a commandment: “You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain.” If one observes this and does not mention the name of Jesus Christ after every fifth sentence, or speak of the divine world order, then one immediately faces reproaches from so-called church-minded people—those who would most like to hear the names of Jesus Christ and God in every sentence. That shy, subtle infusion of divine inner being—which even avoids constantly having “Lord, Lord!” on one’s lips—is not regarded today, especially in church-minded circles, as a religious attitude. And when what is presented to humanity is permeated by this shy yet potent divine quality—one that is not sentimentally paraded on the lips—then, as a result of a flawed upbringing, one hears from all sides: “Yes, he should speak much more about Christianity and the like.” — What I am suggesting here must also be taken into account in the classroom, not by dragging what children learn in their 13th, 14th, and 15th years into the realm of sentimentality, but by guiding what they learn more toward the practical aspects of life. Basically, no child should reach the age of 15 without having had their arithmetic instruction extended to include knowledge of the rules governing at least the simplest forms of bookkeeping. And so the principles of grammar and linguistics should be introduced during these years less in the form of essays—which, in a sense, portray human inner life as if it were permeated everywhere by barley wort—for these are mostly the essays that children are made to write between the ages of 13 and 16 years—as if they were a refined version of the spirit that prevails over after-dinner drinks and in coffee-clatsch gatherings—but rather, care should be taken to ensure that language instruction leads into business writing, into the business letter. And no child should have passed the age of 15 without having gone through the stage of writing model examples of practical business letters. Don’t say, “The child can always learn that later.” Certainly, by overcoming tremendous obstacles, one can learn it later, but only by overcoming those obstacles. You do the child a great favor when you teach it to apply its knowledge of grammar and language to business writing and business letters. In this day and age, there really shouldn’t be a single person who hasn’t learned to write a proper business letter at least once. Of course, they may not need to use it later in life, but there really should be no one who has not at least once been encouraged to write a proper business letter. If a child has been oversaturated with sentimental idealism between the ages of 13 and 15, that idealism will later become repulsive to them, and they will become a materialistic person. If, however, one introduces the child to the practical realities of life during these years, the child will retain a healthy relationship with the idealistic needs of the soul—needs that can only be extinguished if they are indulged in a senseless manner during early adolescence.

[ 11 ] This is extremely important, and in this regard, even certain external aspects of the structure of the lessons would be of great significance. We will, of course, have to make compromises regarding religious instruction—as you know. As a result, what could once have permeated the curriculum as a religious element will not be able to find its way into our other subjects. The fact that we must make such compromises stems from the fact that religious communities today adopt an attitude toward the world that is hostile to culture. But even today, if the religious communities were to make compromises with us of their own accord, much could be achieved through this religious education that has been crammed into the rest of the curriculum. If, for example, the religious education teacher were willing to to occasionally draw on material from other subjects—if, for example, he were to explain the steam engine to the children, interspersed within the religion class, by tying it in with something else, such as astronomy or something entirely secular and the like—then the mere fact that the religion teacher does this would have immense significance for the consciousness of the growing children. I mention this extreme case because, in other subjects, we will have to pay attention to what, in the area just described, can hardly be taken into account. We must not think in a pedantic way: “Now you’re teaching geography, now history, and you don’t care about anything else at all.” — No, when we explain to the child that the word “sofa” came from the Orient during the Crusades, we will then incorporate something about the manufacturing process of the sofa in general into the history lesson. We will then move on to other pieces of furniture that are more Western in origin, thus drawing on something entirely different from the so-called subject matter. This will be of immense benefit to the growing child, particularly from a methodological and didactic standpoint, because moving from one topic to another—so that one is connected to the other—is the most beneficial thing for the development of the mind, the soul, and even the body. For one might say: A child who, to their delight, is suddenly told in history class about the manufacture of a sofa—and from there perhaps learns about Oriental carpet patterns—but in such a way that the child truly gains an overview, will process this information better than a child who simply goes from a French class to a geometry class. They will also be physically healthier. In this way, we can design instruction to be internally wholesome. After all, most people already suffer from all sorts of digestive disorders and physical ailments, many of which stem from our unnatural teaching methods, because we are unable to adapt our teaching to what life demands. The girls’ high schools are, in this regard, the worst off. And if someone were ever to study, from a cultural-historical perspective, the connection between women’s illnesses and the teaching methods of the girls’ high school system, it would make for a very interesting chapter. We need only direct our thoughts toward such matters today so that, by avoiding much of what has emerged in the most recent era, a return to health in this area may take place. Above all, we must recognize that human beings are complex beings, and that what we wish to cultivate within them often must first be prepared.

[ 12 ] If you wish to gather children around you with interest in order to speak to them—imbued with religious feeling—about the glory of the divine powers in the world, then, if you simply do this to children who come from here and there without having been chosen, you will speak in such a way that it goes in one ear and out the other and does not reach their hearts at all. If, after the children have written a business letter in the morning, you meet with them again in the afternoon—with what has arisen in their subconscious as a result of the business letter—and wish to teach them religious concepts, then you will succeed, for you yourself will have created the very mood that seeks its opposite. Truly, such things are not presented to you from some abstract didactic standpoint, but because they are of immense importance for life. I would like to know who, in the real world today, has not experienced just how much unnecessary work is done. Businesspeople today will repeatedly agree with you when you say: There is someone employed in some business; he is tasked with writing a business letter to a related industry or to people who are supposed to distribute the product. He writes a letter, a reply comes back; then another letter must be written, another reply comes back, and so on. This practice of wasting time in this way has become particularly widespread in business life today. It is certainly true that our public life is being conducted in an incredibly uneconomical manner in this way. You can really feel it. For if you simply pick up a copybook in a business setting today, using ordinary common sense, you really go through agony. Not because one is averse to finding the forms of speech and the topics covered in it appealing, but because one feels tormented by the fact that things are written down in the most impractical way possible—because, in fact, this workbook could be reduced to at least a quarter of its size. And this stems solely from the fact that instruction in the final year of elementary school is not structured appropriately. For this simply cannot be made up for later in life without encountering almost insurmountable difficulties. They cannot even make up for what was neglected during this time in secondary school, because the abilities that develop during this period fade away and are no longer present to the same extent later on. One must take these abilities into account if one expects someone not only to cobble together a letter superficially with half-baked thoughts, but to be fully engaged and to compose such a letter with prudence and a broad perspective.

[ 13 ] During the first epoch—when the child starts school and up through the age of 9—it is of paramount importance that we remain grounded in human nature and educate and teach entirely from that perspective; then from ages 13 to 15, when shaping the curriculum, it is essential that we as teachers and educators are rooted in life, that we have an interest in and sympathy for life, and that we teach from life itself. I had to tell you all this before I proceed to outline the ideal curriculum for you and compare this ideal curriculum with the curricula that will also play a role in your teaching, because we are, after all, surrounded on all sides by the external world and its influences.