The Rudolf Steiner Archive

6. Spiritual Science and Education

[ 1 ] It is a special honor for me to be able to speak among you about the relationship between the spiritual-science worldview to which I have dedicated my work and the educational work to which you have dedicated yours. Perhaps I may begin by making two remarks: The first is that what I intend to speak to you about must, of course, be clothed in seemingly theoretical words and phrases, since words are necessary to articulate ideas. I would like to expressly note, however, that this is not meant to be theoretical. For I would not be speaking on today’s topic at all if a part of my work had not always been practically devoted to educational work and the cultural development of humanity through education, so that what I wish to present is indeed intended to be rooted directly in practical experience.

[ 2 ] The second point I would like to make by way of introduction is that the Spiritual Science represented here is itself still something that is extremely contested in the present day, and that I therefore find it entirely understandable—precisely because I represent this Spiritual Science, I find it understandable—that there are still many objections raised against one aspect or another today, objections are raised to one thing or another today, simply because the method applied in the Spiritual Science is still unfamiliar to many contemporary views. But perhaps the very way in which we can attempt to make this Spiritual Science a genuine life force—how we can attempt to introduce this Spiritual Science into such a significantly practical field as education—may contribute precisely to bringing us closer to this Spiritual Science itself.

[ 3 ] What area of culture, after all, could one possibly cite that is far removed from pedagogical effectiveness and pedagogical interests? Those who work as educators are entrusted with human beings at an age when they are still capable of developing into anything possible in the world. And only through the warmest possible engagement with the overall culture of humanity can the educator, can the teacher, instill in those being educated and taught what is meant to be instilled in them. When we discuss today, in particular, the very specific topic of Spiritual Science and pedagogy, I do so because Spiritual Science is meant to become, in our time, a spiritual cultural element that will once again bring together the individual spiritual interests of humanity that have been driven apart over the past centuries, especially in the 19th century. Through Spiritual Science, we are able to bring together what has become specialized through a concrete worldview, without having to compromise on the demands of specialization. And there is a very special reason today to reflect on the relationship between Spiritual Science—as understood here—and pedagogy. This is because pedagogy, too, has played a part in the influence exerted on all human thought and all human activity by modern natural science, which has been accompanied by such great triumphs.

[ 4 ] More than the individual knows or is able to bring to consciousness, the scientific way of thinking—that very method which has led to such glorious results in the natural sciences—has gained influence over all our actions, particularly those we refer to as the art of education. And here, since I obviously cannot elaborate on the foundations of Spiritual Science as such, I would like to point out one thing: I would like to draw attention, by way of comparison, to the special relationship between the scientific method and life.

[ 5 ] Consider, for example, what makes the human eye this marvelous apparatus through which we perceive the external world within a specific sensory realm. The eye is this marvelous apparatus precisely because it is entirely designed to perceive the environment and—I am speaking figuratively—to forget itself in the act of perceiving. We must—I would say—completely reverse our perspective of observation—though we can only do so approximately through the external natural sciences—if we truly wish to investigate this instrument of our external sensory perception. While seeing, we cannot simultaneously look back at the essence of our eye. We can apply this analogy to the scientific method as it relates to life. Precisely because human beings in modern times have carefully and conscientiously developed the scientific method—so that it faithfully reproduces an objective picture of the external world in the various fields of natural science and the like—they have shaped the underlying state of mind in such a way that, in the scientific observation of the world, the human self is forgotten, and everything that is directly connected to human life is forgotten. And so it has come to pass that, the more we have advanced in the natural sciences, the less we have been able to use scientific methods to simultaneously look upon that which is truly human.

[ 6 ] Spiritual Science now seeks to add to natural science—entirely in the spirit of scientific knowledge, yet going beyond natural science precisely because of this spirit—that reversal of observation which is now turned back toward the human being. This can only happen by truly experiencing those processes of soul life that I have described in my book *How Does One Attain Knowledge of the Higher Worlds?* and that I have briefly touched upon in the second part of my *Secret Science*—by truly undergoing those processes of human soul life. These are processes that truly carry this human soul life beyond that in which it finds itself in ordinary life and in which it also finds itself within the world of natural science.

[ 7 ] To truly grasp such a way of looking at things, one must possess what I would like to call “intellectual humility.” I recently used an illustration in a public lecture here to explain what is necessary: Let us consider a five-year-old child. Let’s place a volume of Goethe’s lyric poems into the hands of a five-year-old child. This volume of Goethe’s lyric poems contains a whole world. The child will pick up the volume, fiddle with it a bit, but will not perceive anything of what this volume actually has to say to a human being. But the child can be developed; the spiritual powers lie dormant within it, so that in ten or twelve years it will truly be able to draw from the volume what is contained within it. We need this attitude if we wish to find our way into the Spiritual Science referred to here. We must be able to say to ourselves: No matter how meticulous the training of our intellect, our methods of observation and experimentation may be, it takes a person only so far. From that point on, they can take their own development into their own hands; from that point on, they can develop powers that were previously dormant. Then he becomes aware that he previously stood before both external nature—in terms of its spiritual and soul-like essence—and, in particular, the human being itself, just as a five-year-old child stands before Goethe’s volume of lyric poetry. The decision to adopt this intellectual humility is what, in essence and in principle, determines whether one can ‘find one’s way into what is meant here by Spiritual Science.’

[ 8 ] For by applying specific methods of thought, feeling, and will—methods aimed at making thought independent and disciplining the will—and by making the cultivation of the will and the cultivation of thought increasingly independent of the physical instruments, one attains the ability, so to speak, to truly observe oneself, to observe the human being itself. But if one can observe the human being, then one can also observe what is so extraordinarily important for observation: the human being in the making. Today, of course, there is certainly much talk of the spirit and of independent thinking; yet the Spiritual Science referred to here cannot align itself with this discourse, precisely because it develops spiritual methods internally in order to grasp and comprehend the concrete spiritual—not the Spirit of which one speaks so vaguely and generally as underlying things and human existence itself. The Spiritual Science referred to here must address the nature of the human being in detail.

[ 9 ] Today we want to speak about the nature of the developing human being. People certainly speak—I would say quite abstractly—about human individuality and its development; and they are rightly aware that educators, in particular, must take the development of this human individuality into account. However, I would like to draw attention to the fact that discerning educators were quite clear about how little the scientific education of modern humanity is capable of pointing to the truly lawful stages of development of the developing human being. I would like to cite two examples. The Viennese educator Theodor Vogt, who was frequently mentioned in the last third of the 19th century, stated—based on his reformed interpretation of Herbart’s views at the time— we are by no means far enough advanced today in the science of history—in our understanding of the historical life of humanity—to comprehend how humanity itself develops, so as to be able to derive from the view of developing humanity insights into the developing child, just as, for example, natural scientists derive the embryonic development of the individual human being from the evolution of species. This view was later reiterated by the Jena-based educator Rein. It essentially boils down to acknowledging that we today actually have no methods in Spiritual Science that could truly point to what underlies human development. Only the awakening of such abilities—the ones I have just alluded to and about whose development you can read in more detail in my books—truly enables us to approach that mystery that confronts us so wonderfully when we observe how, from birth onward, an inner essence emerges from within the human being and works its way into every gesture, and is expressed, in particular, through language, as well as through the relationships the human being enters into with their surroundings, and so on. Today, people tend to observe the various aspects of human life far too much from an external, physiological, and biological perspective. They fail to form a picture of the whole human being, in whom the physical, the soul, and the spirit interact in a complex interplay. When it comes to children, if one wishes to raise and educate them properly, one must form such a picture.

[ 10 ] Now, anyone who observes the developing child, guided by the methods of Spiritual Science, will find a significant turning point in the child’s development around the time when the teeth begin to change—around the age of six or seven. There is a saying that is often cited: “Nature takes no leaps.” — This is certainly true to a certain extent; but all such views are, at their core, one-sided. One can only see through their truth if one recognizes their one-sidedness. For nature is, in fact, constantly taking leaps. Just think of a growing plant, to give an example. Well, one can apply the saying that nature takes no leaps. But in the spirit of Goethe’s theory of metamorphosis, we would have to say: Even though the green leaf is the same as the colorful petal—nature makes a leap from the sepals to the colorful petals, another leap from the colorful petals to the stamens, and yet another distinct leap to the ovary. We cannot make sense of life if we apply such a view abstractly—that nature or life in general makes no leaps. And this is especially true of human beings. Human life flows along without a leap; but in the sense just mentioned, such leaps are everywhere.

[ 11 ] And a significant turning point occurs around the sixth or seventh year of life—a profound change that takes place within the human organism, one of which modern physiology has not yet formed a clear mental image of. Something is taking place [in the physical realm], but also in the soul and spirit of the human being. Up to this stage, the human being is essentially an imitative being. The constitution of their soul and body is such that they surrender themselves completely to their surroundings, that they empathize with their surroundings, and that they develop from the center of their will in such a way that the lines and rays of force of their will are actually precisely shaped by what is happening in their surroundings. And more important than anything else we convey to the child at this age through verbal admonitions or instruction is the way we ourselves behave in the child’s environment. And since the intangible factors in life have a much stronger influence than what can be clearly observed from the outside, it must be said that it is not only a matter of a person’s outward behavior when the child imitates it. In every sound of speech, in every gesture we make as educators—everything we do in the child’s presence during this stage of life—there is something to which the child adapts. As human beings, we are—far more than we realize—the outward expression of our thoughts. We pay little attention in life to how we move a hand; yet the way we move our hand is a faithful reflection of our entire state of mind, of the entire way we are inwardly disposed. And while, with the developed inner life of an adult, we pay little attention to the connection between the way we walk, the gestures of our hands, our facial expressions, and what lies within our soul as impulses of will and feeling, the child attunes itself to these intangible aspects of life. It is no exaggeration to say: Anyone in the child’s environment, as long as the child is under the age of seven, makes a deep inner effort to be a good person, a capable person—who conscientiously resolves not to forgive himself in his own life of thought and feeling toward the child, not even in what remains unspoken—that person exerts the strongest possible influence on the child through the imponderables of life.

[ 12 ] In this regard, there is still much to consider that—if I may put it this way—actually lies between the lines of life. As we have gradually become entangled in a more materialistic way of life, especially with regard to the intimate aspects of existence, we have grown accustomed to disregarding such things. Only when such things are valued once again will a certain impetus enter into pedagogy—an impetus that this field of study absolutely needs, especially in an age that claims to be a social, socially minded age.

[ 13 ] One cannot properly assess certain life experiences without taking into account such observations of the spiritual and soul aspects underlying the human being. I am telling you facts based on experience. For example, a father comes in completely distraught and says: “What am I supposed to do? My child has stolen something!” — Of course, one can understand how a father might be distraught by this. But now let’s try to get to the bottom of the matter. One might ask: “Well, how did the whole thing happen?” — “Well, the child simply took some money out of the drawer.” — “What did the child do with the money?” — “The child even bought something for his friends—some snacks—and didn’t steal for selfish reasons at all.” One has the opportunity to say: “Yes, look—the child didn’t steal; there’s no question at all that the child stole. The child simply saw, day after day, how the mother went to the drawer to take out money, and regarded this as perfectly legitimate and imitated it. This arose purely from the force that is the most important at this age: imitation.” If one guides a child correctly in this sense—if one knows how to direct the child’s attention in the right direction—then that attention will be directed toward certain actions that have a particularly significant influence at this very age.

[ 14 ] We must be fully aware that admonitions and instructions are of no help at this age; the only thing that helps is what acts upon the will. This human constitution, however, persists until the moment when, physiologically, this remarkable culmination of childhood sets in—which lies in the fact that the principle of hardening takes its final course and the permanent teeth crystallize out of the human organism. It is extraordinarily interesting to examine, through Spiritual Science methods, what underlies the developing organism as this final stage—the change of teeth—occurs. But it is far more important to also trace what I have described: the parallel spiritual-soul development, which still proceeds entirely from imitation.

[ 15 ] Around the age of seven, a marked change begins to take place in the child’s mental and emotional constitution—a change about which we can say: the ability to respond to things in a way entirely different from before begins to emerge in childhood. Previously, the eye was focused on imitation, and the ear was focused on imitation. Now the child begins to listen to what adults express as opinions and views. The drive to imitate transforms into devotion to authority. I am well aware of how uncomfortable many people today feel when the principle of authority is made into a key factor in education. However, if one wishes to present the facts seriously and honestly, one cannot rely on programs and catchphrases, but solely on empirical evidence—on experience. And one must have observed what it means when a child can be guided by a teacher or educator whom the child looks up to, so that they represent a natural authority for the child. It is of great significance in a person’s development that this developing individual adopts certain thoughts as their own and immerses themselves in them simply because the respected adult holds those thoughts or feels those emotions—because a process of growing together takes place between the developing individual and the adult. And one need only consider what it means for a person’s entire future life if they—and I say this explicitly—have had the good fortune, between the transition that takes place around the sixth or seventh year and the final major transition that occurs at the time of puberty in the fourteenth or fifteenth year, to be able to truly surrender themselves to a natural authority figure.

[ 16 ] The point, however, is not to stop at such abstractions, but rather to now turn our attention to this very important stage of life, which begins around the sixth or seventh year and ends with sexual maturity. At this stage of life, the child is taken from the parental home—having been raised or spoiled according to the principle of imitation—and entrusted to the school. The most important things for life should be instilled in the child during this phase. It is therefore quite correct to point out that not only every year, but—one might say—every month in the child’s development should truly be carefully examined by the educator and the teacher in terms of its essential nature, not only in general but—as far as possible, even in mass education—carefully examined in the case of each individual child. For as the child enters school—and we are speaking roughly up to the age of nine, though these are all approximate figures, of course—we still see the lingering effects of the impulse to imitate alongside the already emerging tendency to submit to authority. And if we can correctly observe the interplay of these two fundamental forces in the developing human being, then the living result of this observation is the proper foundation for both the teaching method and the curriculum.

[ 17 ] This question—please forgive me for making this personal remark—came to mind particularly this year, when the Waldorf School was to be established in Stuttgart. Thanks to the understanding cooperation of our friend Emil Molt, we were able to establish a school—modeled after the Stuttgart firm “Waldorf-Astoria”—that is a fully integrated elementary school, designed so that its teaching methods and the organization of the curriculum are entirely based on what Spiritual Science has to say about education. And I was privileged to hold the seminar course in September of this year for the teaching staff that I had to assemble for this school. It was then that all these questions came to me in a very timely way. And what I would now like to share with you is essentially a distillation of everything that emerged from a seminar course for those teachers who, guided by the principles of Spiritual Science and the social demands of our time, are to lead a true unified elementary school today.

[ 18 ] The point is that not only the teaching method, but above all the curriculum and the educational goals can be derived from a lively observation of the developing human being. If we look closely at this developing human being, we will find that even after the sixth or seventh year, there is still much within the child that stems from that particular nature of the will, which alone makes it possible for the child to have possessed the impulse to imitate to the degree I have described. It is the will that underlies this impulse to imitate, not yet the intellect. The intellect, in essence, develops much later out of the will. That intimate kinship that exists between one human being—that is, the adult educator—and another human being—the growing child—is expressed in a relationship of will to will. Therefore, we can best reach the child during this first year of elementary school if we are able to influence the will in the right way.

[ 19 ] But how can we best influence the will? We cannot influence the will if, already in this year, we place too much emphasis on external perception—on the focus on external, material life. It turns out that we come particularly close to the will when, in the early years, we actually allow education to be permeated by a certain artistic-aesthetic element. But one can indeed start from a certain artistic-aesthetic element. For example, one cannot begin teaching reading and writing in a way that lacks a genuine connection between what is being taught and the forces emerging from the child’s soul center. What we today call our letters and characters are, after all, fundamentally something highly derived. One need only look back at ancient scripts—not those of primitive peoples—but, for example, those of the highly developed Egyptian culture, to see how writing was still something that was thoroughly artistic in its design. This has gradually been worn away over time. Our written characters have, so to speak, become conventional symbols. But we can, in turn, return to the direct, elementary relationship that human beings have with what has since become writing. In other words, instead of teaching writing in an abstract way, we can begin with a kind of drawing-based writing instruction—but not an arbitrary form of it, rather one that truly shapes, out of the human artistic sensibility, what will later be transformed for the developing child into abstract written characters—yet shapes it in an artistic sense. So let us begin, as I would like to suggest, with a kind of “writing-drawing” or “drawing-writing,” and let us expand from this “writing-drawing” in such a way that we truly introduce the child to elements of the visual arts—painting and sculpture as well.

[ 20 ] Anyone who is a true psychologist knows that what is presented to the child in this way does not merely engage the mind, but rather engages the whole person. That which has an intellectualistic slant—that which is permeated solely by the intellect and, in particular, by convention, such as the ordinary letters used for reading or writing—also engages only the mind. If we infuse the teaching of these subjects with an artistic element, then we engage the whole person. Therefore, a future pedagogy will seek to derive the intellectual element—including visual instruction—from an artistic foundation.

[ 21 ] When we approach the child through art, that is the best way to take into account this interplay between the principle of authority and the principle of imitation. For there is an element of imitation in art; but there is also something in art that passes directly from one subjective human being to another. For whatever is intended to have an artistic effect must pass through the subjectivity of the human being. We approach the child quite differently as human beings with our inner being when what we teach them first takes on an artistic form. In this way, we pour something substantial of ourselves into the child—something that must appear as a natural authority, something that does not make us seem like a mere reflection of conventional culture and the like, but rather brings us, as human beings, closer to the child in a human way. And under the influence of this artistic education, the child will quite naturally come to accept the natural authority of the teacher and educator.

[ 22 ] This is something that points out, at the same time, that the spirit must be at work—for one can only teach in this way if what one has to convey is permeated by the spirit—in the entire conduct of the lesson, that one must live within what one has to impart. And this brings me to something that, in turn, belongs to the intangible aspects of the life of a teacher. It is all too easy to assume—as a matter of course—that, when standing before a child, one appears as the intelligent, superior one, while the child is perceived as the simple, naive being. This can have very significant consequences for teaching. You see, I want to give a concrete example that I have already cited here in my lectures in a different context: I want to teach the child a concept of the immortality of the human soul. Adapting to the child’s mind, I want to illustrate this with an example by presenting an image. I point out to the child, very vividly, the butterfly chrysalis and the butterfly emerging from it. Now I explain to the child: Look, just as the butterfly rests invisibly to the outer eye within this chrysalis, so your immortal soul rests within your body. Just as the butterfly emerges from the chrysalis, so too, as you pass through the gate of death, your immortal soul emerges from your body and rises into the world, which is, in essence, just as different [from the ordinary world] as the butterfly’s world is different [from the world of the chrysalis].

[ 23 ] Well, one can do that; fine. With the intellect, one conjures up such an image. But when teaching it to a child, one—as a “rational” person—is reluctant to believe in it oneself. But this has an effect on everything in education and instruction, for it is one of the imponderables that the child actually accepts only what I myself believe—through mysterious forces that act from the child’s subconscious to the educator’s subconscious.

[ 24 ] Spiritual Science, however, leads one to see the image I have just described not merely as one devised by the intellect, but to realize: this image has been placed within nature itself by the divine creative forces, not merely to symbolize the immortality of the soul at the whim of human beings, but because here, on a lower level, the same thing occurs as when the immortal soul departs from the body. One can rise to the level of believing in this image directly and with all the depth required—or rather, as one might better say, of wanting the child to believe in it. When the power of faith surges through the educator’s soul in this way, then the educator influences the child in the right way; then the authority’s influence is not a disadvantage but a great and significant advantage.

[ 25 ] When pointing out such things, one must always emphasize that a person’s entire life forms a coherent whole: what is planted in a person’s life while they are still a child often does not manifest until many, many years later as life skills or a sense of purpose. And people pay so little attention to this because it appears to have been transformed. Let us suppose, for example, that we succeed in awakening in a child a very necessary capacity for feeling—the capacity for reverence; let us suppose we succeed in creating in the child a prayerful mood toward whatever in the world can be revered as divine. Anyone who has learned to observe the interconnections of life knows that, transformed and metamorphosed, this prayerful mood reappears in later life. But one must simply recognize it again, for it appears in such a way that it has been transformed into an inner spiritual strength through which one can have a soothing, blessing—if I may use the expression—effect on other people. No one who has not learned to pray as a child will, as an elderly person, possess the strength of soul that can, in a blessing-like way, be passed on once again to children or younger people through their admonitions or, often, simply through their expressions. What we receive as the effect of grace during childhood is transformed in later life—through transitions that are usually unnoticed, that undergo a metamorphosis—into a source of blessing.

[ 26 ] This is how all kinds of forces in life transform. And unless one pays attention to these interrelationships, unless one draws the art of education from a broad, rich, and spiritually illuminated view of life—without this, education will not be able to accomplish what it is meant to: to work with the developmental forces of the human being and not against them.

[ 27 ] When a child reaches about the age of nine, a new stage begins—not as clearly as around the age of seven, but still with a certain degree of clarity. The aftereffects of the imitative impulse gradually fade, and something emerges in the child that, if one looks closely, can indeed be observed, albeit intimately: a special relationship develops between the child and its own “I.” This relationship to the “I”—which can be called a psychological relationship—naturally begins much earlier. It begins in every person at the earliest point in life that they can recall. It is also around this time that the child shifts from saying, “Little Karl wants that” or “Little Marie wants that” to saying, “I want that.” Later on, one recalls back to this point in time. For the average person, what came before usually disappears entirely. This is when the “I” enters the human inner being on a psychological level. But it has not yet fully entered on a spiritual level. What actually appears spiritually in the human soul as the experience of the “I” is revealed to us by what happens to the child around the age of nine—somewhere between the ninth and tenth years of life; all these figures are approximate. People who were observers of the soul have occasionally pointed to this magnificent and significant moment in human life. Jean Paul once put it so beautifully: he recalls—as a very young boy—standing in the courtyard of his parents’ house in front of a barn—he describes it so vividly—when the sense of “I” awoke within him. He will never forget, he says, how he gazed into the most veiled Holy of Holies of the human soul.

[ 28 ] In some children this change is clearly evident, in others less so, but it generally occurs around the age of nine. This is an extraordinarily important time for education and instruction. If we succeed, by this point, in arousing in the growing child those feelings and cultivating those inclinations of the will that are called religious or moral—and which can be drawn from all other forms of instruction—then one need only be a good observer of children to exercise one’s authority during this stage of life—when one sees it approaching, when one can observe it —to allow one’s authority to take effect in such a way that what one has previously kindled in the child—specifically in terms of religious sentiments—is consolidated.

[ 29 ] It is at this moment that it is determined whether a person can, from the depths of their innermost being, look up honestly and truthfully toward that which divinely permeates and spiritualizes the world and human life. And whoever, through spiritual insight, can put themselves in the place of human life—one might say is intuitively guided to do so—will, precisely at this moment, as an educator, find the right words and the right rules of conduct. For what pedagogy truly is, is something artistic. One must approach the child not with pedagogy as a normative science, but with pedagogy as an art. Just as the artist must master his subject matter, his material—must know it precisely and intimately—so too does the one who is imbued with spiritual insight know the symptoms that arise around the age of nine, when the human being becomes so deeply immersed inwardly that his sense of self becomes a spiritual one, just as it was previously a soul-based one. Then the educator or teacher will transform what they previously always tailored to connect with human subjectivity into a more objective view of things. If one understands how to properly grasp this moment, one will realize, for example, that before this point in time, one should speak to the child about scientific matters and the perception of nature only by cloaking what constitutes the perception of nature in stories, fables, and parables; that one should treat everything that is a natural object by comparing it to human characteristics, in short, that one should not separate the human being from their natural environment. At the moment when the “I” awakens—around the age of nine—the human being separates themselves from their natural environment and becomes ready to compare the relationships among natural phenomena objectively. We should therefore not begin the objective description of what is in nature around the human being before this point in childhood. Rather, we should develop a keen sense—I would say a spiritual instinct—for this significant turning point.

[ 30 ] Such a turning point then takes place again around the ages of eleven or twelve. Even in a life that is still entirely subject to authority, what will emerge in its fully developed form after puberty is already beginning to appear; what will become the child’s own capacity for judgment after puberty is already beginning to shine through. Thus, as educators and teachers, we work to appeal to the child’s capacity for judgment and to allow the principle of authority to take a back seat. But what is already at work within the child—what will emerge as independent judgment after puberty—begins to make its presence felt as early as the “age of authority,” starting around the twelfth year. There we can see—if we correctly perceive the change taking place in the child’s psychological constitution—how the child develops new interests. The ability to correctly comprehend physical phenomena—even the simplest physical concepts—does not develop until around the eleventh or twelfth year.

[ 31 ] Without observing these laws that underlie human life, there can be no true art of education. This art of education must be precisely attuned to what is developing within the human being. And it is from this that what we call the curriculum and the educational goals should be derived. What is taught and how it is taught should flow entirely from an understanding of human nature. But we will not gain this understanding of human nature unless we are able to direct our worldview toward the spiritual—toward the spiritual realities that underlie external sensory phenomena. Then, however, it will also become clear to us that the “imponderables,” which I have mentioned on several occasions, play a real role, especially in the art of education.

[ 32 ] Today, when our art of education—and this is often the case without us being fully aware of it—has developed more out of underlying scientific views, we place great value on what is known as “concrete instruction.” Now, I ask you not to take what I am saying as if I were trying to be polemical, as if I were trying to condemn or criticize anything. That is by no means the case. I merely wish to describe the role that Spiritual Science can play in shaping the art of education in the present and the future. The fact that we emphasize visual instruction beyond its proper limits is, fundamentally, merely a result of those patterns of thought that develop out of scientific perspectives and scientific methods. But as justified as it is—and I say this explicitly— as justified as it is to receive visual instruction at the right age and in relation to the right subjects, it is just as important to ask whether everything that is to be conveyed to the growing child can flow from visual perception, or whether it must pass by other means from the soul of the teacher or educator into the soul of the child. It must certainly be pointed out that such other paths exist. And I have, after all, pointed to the principle of authority as the pervasive principle between the change of teeth and sexual maturity. The fact that something lives within the teacher as an opinion, as a feeling—that should be the reason why the child accepts this opinion, this feeling. There must truly be something in the way the teacher relates to the child that has an intangible effect. Then there must be something that truly flows from such a comprehensive understanding of life and from an interest in such a comprehensive understanding of life, as I characterized it when I said: What we develop in childhood often manifests itself in a transformed form only in adulthood or even only in old age.

[ 33 ] When going beyond the limits of visual instruction, one often fails to take one thing into account, for example. One can, of course, lower one’s perspective to that of the child—but only with regard to what one wishes to present to the child in a concrete way, what the child can grasp, or at least what one believes the child is capable of grasping. Indeed, anyone who takes this beyond a certain extreme fails to observe a most important law of life. This law consists of the following: It is simply a source of vitality and strength when, for example, at the age of thirty-five, one finds oneself in a position to say: “As a child, you once heard this or that from your teacher, from the one who raised you.” You took that in and stored it in your memory; you preserved it. Why did you preserve it? Because you loved the teacher as an authority, because the teacher’s very being stood before you in such a way that it was clear to you: if he professes this, then you must take it in; thus, you acted instinctively. Now a light dawns on you; now you have matured enough to understand this in the way described. — I have taken in something that I took in out of love for authority. Now a force of maturity arises through which I recall it within myself; now I recognize it in a new sense; now I understand it for the first time.

[ 34 ] Yes, anyone who can smile at such a source of life force has no interest in real human life; such a person does not know how this human life forms a unity and how everything in it is interconnected; and therefore cannot appreciate what it means that one cannot merely stop at normal visual instruction—which is certainly fully justified within its limits—but must instill in the child’s soul that which later life, from one stage of maturity to the next, can always return to again and again. Why do we encounter so many inwardly broken people today? Why does our heart bleed today when we look upon vast territories faced with great challenges, where people walk about as if paralyzed? Because no consideration has been given, in the upbringing of growing children, to the development of those forces that serve as a strong support for a person in later life, enabling them to take their place in this life.

[ 35 ] These are the things that must certainly be taken into account when the mere scientific study of pedagogical norms is to be transformed into a true art of education. Because pedagogy must be universal for all of humanity, it must at the same time become the individual and individually applied art of the educator and the teacher. One must recognize certain inner connections if one wishes to clearly understand what is often expressed instinctively but is not yet fully grasped. Today, people rightly demand that education not be merely intellectual; what matters is not so much that the growing individual acquire knowledge or insight, but rather that he or she become a capable person, that the element of will be developed, that practical skills be truly cultivated within him or her, and so on. Certainly, such a demand is entirely justified. But the point is that such a demand cannot be met with general pedagogical platitudes and standards; it can only be met if one can truly address the specific stages of human development in concrete, individual cases. One must know how the artistic-aesthetic stimulates the will and must be able to bring the aesthetic-artistic into contact with this will. Nor, however, should one seek merely an external approach to the will. One will seek it in vain if one approaches the human being solely through physiology or biology, rather than through the spiritual-soul element that expresses itself in their being—and which is expressed in a particularly outstanding way during childhood. There, many things must be imbued with soul and spirit.

[ 36 ] At our Waldorf School in Stuttgart, we attempted for the first time to transform what is otherwise generally based—I would say—on physiology—at least in terms of its method, with regard to its inner organizational power—namely, gymnastics, into a certain form of eurythmy. You see, what you can see almost every Saturday and Sunday out in Dornach as a eurythmy performance is, of course, first and foremost conceived as a special art form—an art form in which the human organism itself, with its inner capacity for movement, is used as an instrument. But what is conceived in this way as an art form also offers the possibility of infusing the human movements—which we otherwise experience only through physiological gymnastics—with soul and spirit, so that the person does not merely perform what one might ask: “How does this affect this or that muscle?”—but performs what naturally flows from this or that soul impulse into the movement of the muscles, into the movement of the limbs.

[ 37 ] Eurythmy—as we, who stand on the ground of a spiritualization of life from the standpoint of Spiritual Science—are convinced—will indeed have great educational significance on the one hand and hygienic significance on the other. For it seeks the healthy relationships—those natural connections—that must exist between the soul’s inner experience, feeling, and expression, and what can develop as movement within the whole human being. What is otherwise sought merely through external physiology or other external factors is sought here through the understanding of the soul and spirit that permeate the human being. And so one can influence the will not only by applying the teaching principle of the traditional arts in the early years of elementary school, but one can also influence the will in a very special way by allowing something—which is otherwise also conceived as a cultivation of the will— gymnastics—which is otherwise also conceived as a “cultivation of the will”—be permeated by the soul-spiritual, though this must first be recognized in its concrete potential for effect and in its concrete manifestation.

[ 38 ] And so we must once again recognize how two mental faculties in the human being are connected—a connection that modern psychology, which in reality is not imbued with Spiritual Science, fails to grasp properly. If we can look appropriately at the important stage that I have described as occurring around the age of nine, we will see that something special takes place at this stage with regard to the child’s emotional capacities and emotional life. The human being turns inward. Different emotional nuances begin to emerge. In a sense, the inner life of the soul, in its emotional nuances, becomes more independent of the external world. At the same time, something else occurs that only becomes apparent through truly intimate observation of the soul—Jean Paul also noted this and expressed it wittily: We certainly learn more in our first three years of life than in our three years of academic study, because we still possess, so to speak, an organically developed memory, since memory still functions organically at that stage. For life itself, we learn more during that time. But a special relationship—one that plays a greater role in conscious life—is established precisely between the emotional life and the life of memory around the age of nine.

[ 39 ] One simply has to see such things. If one cannot see them, then they do not exist for one. If one truly understands these intimate connections between emotional life and memory, then—by nurturing these connections—one finds the proper perspective for what requires an appeal to memory in instruction. One should not, in fact, appeal to memory in any other way than by simultaneously appealing to the emotional life. Particularly in history instruction—for all historical presentations—one will find the correct nuance of communication if one knows this: what is to be incorporated into memory must always be permeated in our presentation by something that resonates with the student’s increasingly independent sensibility. One will also correctly integrate this history instruction into the curriculum if one understands these connections within life. In this way, one will then also gain a proper understanding of the cultivation of memory in general. And one will influence the emotional life—through the very means by which one has primarily influenced memory—just as one has initially influenced the life of the will through artistic means. Then one will gain the ability, gradually and in accordance with this stage of life, to allow the intellectual element to emerge from the elements of will and feeling. For if, in education and instruction, the intellectual element is not developed in the proper way from the elements of will and feeling, then we are working against the human being’s power of development, rather than in harmony with it.

[ 40 ] Well, you have seen from the overall tone of this lecture that, when it comes to the relationship between Spiritual Science and the art of education, what matters is to use Spiritual Science in such a way that it becomes a true understanding of the human being. Through this, we gain something within Spiritual Science itself that flows into our will just as artistic aptitude flows into the human will. In this way, we move away from pedagogy as a mere science of norms that always knows: “This is how one must educate.” In this way, however, we instill into our human being what we must possess within our will—the spiritualization of this will—so that we can act from our will into the developing forces of the growing human being. Thus, pedagogy in the sense of Spiritual Science must be grounded in true, effective knowledge of human nature. The developing human being thus becomes a sacred mystery to us, a sacred mystery that we seek to unravel at every moment. When we place ourselves in the service of humanity in this way through our pedagogical art, then we serve this life out of the great interests of that life itself. I would like to conclude by once again pointing to the perspective from which I began.

[ 41 ] The teacher or educator deals with human beings at that stage of life in which all the possibilities of life—which will then play out throughout the rest of their human life and existence—must be instilled in human nature and drawn out of it. Therefore, one can say that there is no area of life that should not, in some way, touch the one who is called upon to teach and educate. But only the one who learns to understand life from the perspective of the spirit truly understands it. Only the one who—to use Goethe’s expression—is able to shape life spiritually will be able to do so. But what seems to me to be necessary above all else at the present time is that the shaping of life carried out through pedagogy may be structured in accordance with the spirit—and increasingly so. Let me emphasize once again: today’s remarks were not made to criticize or to rebuke anything, but because of the humble conviction that Spiritual Science—with the insights it gains precisely about the nature of the human being and, by extension, about the nature of the developing human being—can serve the art of education and will be able to provide it with new sources of strength.

[ 42 ] This is what the Spiritual Science aims to be. For it does not wish to be just anything that stands apart from life and detached from the world; it wishes to be a leaven of life that can permeate all individual life capacities and life tasks. From this perspective, I try to speak about the most diverse areas of life from the standpoint of Spiritual Science and to have an impact on those areas. Do not attribute it to some kind of immodest presumption when I have spoken today about the relationship between Spiritual Science and education, but rather attribute it to an attitude rooted in the conviction that, especially in our time, much still needs to be explored regarding the spirit if we are to act in accordance with the spirit in life; attribute it to a mindset that wishes to contribute in an honest and sincere way to the most diverse branches of life, to contribute to the most wonderful, magnificent, and important branch of life—the educational and instructive shaping of the human being itself.

Question and Answer

A discussion ensued. The stenographer recorded the individual remarks, some in summary form and some in direct speech.

[ 43 ] Mr. Hulliger explains that he listened with great pleasure to the speaker’s remarks on pedagogy. The new art, too, strives for exactly the same thing—the reversal in the new art. He refers to a quote by Ferdinand Hodler: “What unites us as human beings is stronger than what divides us.” He then continues:

[ 44 ] And what unites us all is precisely the spiritual aspect that Dr. Steiner spoke of. The new art is also seeking this spiritual aspect, and it will find it, despite all the hostility. Following up on this thought, I would like to draw your attention to tomorrow’s event, where the reorganization of the Basel schools will be discussed. This reorganization is not being carried out according to the principles Rudolf Steiner outlined, but rather based on external considerations. If more time were available, I would speak tomorrow in favor of the unified school system, which is based on Rudolf Steiner’s teachings, and would above all demand that differentiation not begin as early as the tenth year of life, but only in the twelfth—and even then, not according to the level of ability—whether bright or less bright, clever or dull—but according to the nature of the ability. In his writings, Rudolf Steiner laid the foundations for this differentiation.

[ 45 ] Now I would like to draw your attention to something else. We can trace a child’s development through their drawings. We often see pictures painted by children hanging on the walls. All of these pictures tell us something, if we can understand them. I’d like to point out some experiences I’ve had myself as an art teacher in the classroom. — For example, I once received a picture that was a so-called “free drawing”: a meadow, then a mountain range, and in that mountain range, a saddle. And in this saddle stands a church. What does this mean? One day I came to realize that in their pictures and drawings, children express what they are experiencing emotionally. A path led up to this church. This path is the child’s life journey; the mountains,

[ 46 ] These are the obstacles that then stand in the way. For him, the church represents the spiritual force that overcomes these obstacles. And from this image, I can look back at the child’s character. Another picture: A path winds through a beautiful landscape. In the lower right is a girl, in the upper left a boy, painted in beautiful, delicate colors—a lovely little landscape. The girl who drew this picture is about thirteen years old, which means she is on the verge of puberty. This little picture expresses what she is experiencing inwardly and what lies ahead for her.

[ 47 ] I had my students depict witches in class. And what did I discover? Each one embodied in the witch precisely the evil trait that they themselves possessed. I had one student—a delicate, frail, sickly girl. She portrayed the witch as Death. That was entirely in keeping with her. — I later spoke with the homeroom teacher, and he told me: “What you’ve read into these drawings is entirely accurate. Your assessment based on these drawings is completely correct.”

[ 48 ] Now, briefly, about the way modern art can be viewed—and must be viewed. I can illustrate this with a few examples. We have a black blackboard up front here. I can look at this blackboard with my intellect and say to myself: This black blackboard has four corners, four right angles, two parallel sides on each side, and a surface that is dark and gloomy. So much for the intellect. My intuition immediately tells me something else. My feelings tell me: This black, hard, angular shape—I get the impression of something heavy, gloomy, austere, and unsettling. The first thing that comes to mind when I look at this blackboard is perhaps a coffin that comes to mind.

[ 49 ] This is how modern art should be understood—no longer with the intellect, but with the heart: What do I feel when I look at this painting, and what memories does it evoke? If you try this for yourself—noticing that the paintings I look at remind me of this or that—you will see that this is absolutely true. I have experienced this and have consistently tested it over the past two or three years, confirming that it is true. Then you will be able to distinguish, when it comes to modern art, what is good and what is not. Of course, there are a great many paintings that are bad—hollow, devoid of content, utterly terrible—and alongside them are the finest works. What does the public do? Because it lacks the ability to take these paintings in, it rejects them. We must educate children not so much to see with their eyes, but rather to feel.

[ 50 ] Mr. Wetterwald: When I take the floor, it is an inner urge that prompts me to do so; I would like to express my heartfelt thanks to the speaker for the beautiful words he shared with us and for the images, ideas, and thoughts he has unfolded before our eyes. His words touched me deeply because they stem from ideas I have been exploring for years, time and time again. I did not know what was meant by “Spiritual Science.” Now I have clearly seen that there is a close relationship between Spiritual Science—as the speaker has just outlined it—and pedagogy. That is now my firm conviction. His words also resonated with me because a certain development became evident throughout his entire presentation—the development we see in the Herbart-Ziller school, to which the speaker also drew our attention. —He also drew attention to certain stages in a child’s development, and that is what prompts me to say just a few more words.

[ 51 ] He has outlined these stages, and in a way that has convinced me that such stages truly exist. We find such stages already described by Herbart. As early as 1804, in his very interesting work *On the Aesthetic Structure in Education*, Herbart demonstrated what education should—and must—actually be about. From this, he then developed the theory of stages, which was further elaborated by Ziller and presented in a plausible manner, to a certain extent, by Vogt in Vienna. However, none of the stage theories just mentioned have convinced me of this fact as much as what was presented by the speaker today, and for that I offer my special thanks.

[ 52 ] Now, one more thing. I’m sure you’ve all sensed that one thing above all else matters—something that must weigh heavily on our souls, including my own—and that is the personality of the educator. This emerged from the entire lecture with the utmost clarity, moral warmth, depth, and sense of responsibility. And that is what particularly moved me—that he emphasized this idea with such sharpness and certainty, thereby showing us what a great task and responsibility we bear as we carry out our profession as educators. For the most part, I am in complete agreement with all the examples drawn from life. They expressed what I myself have experienced, thought, and felt for decades. I conclude by extending my heartfelt thanks to the speaker for his remarks.

[ 53 ] X (unknown): The previous speaker has already covered most of what I wanted to say, namely, how we use art to empathize with children.

[ 54 ] I would like to offer one more point as a kind of critique. Rudolf Steiner says that physical education, as it is practiced in schools today, should be replaced by eurythmy. I have attended some of the eurythmy mental images and saw what they are aimed at. Now, I do not believe that eurythmy alone should be taught in school. What does eurythmy develop? I believe that all these dancing movements in particular will neglect the upper body and the development of muscles. Yet these are precisely what matter for working people, which is what most of our elementary school students will go on to become. Through eurythmy, we will end up with neglected, weak upper arm muscles, weak chest muscles, and weak back muscles. The leg muscles will be strongly developed, but not the upper arm muscles—those will be neglected and will lag behind. We can already see this weakness today in so-called girls’ gymnastics, where there is far too much turning and far too much emphasis placed on dancing. When a demand is placed on the upper arm muscles—which are, admittedly, less developed in girls than in boys—these muscles fail; in most cases, girls cannot even perform the simplest support exercises. Yet this is far less important for girls in terms of their future careers than it is for men. If we consider eurythmy and set aside physiological gymnastics—parallel bars, high bar, and climbing exercises—entirely, I fear that the strength men need for their professions may also suffer.

[ 55 ] What I mean to say is that eurythmy can certainly be introduced—it provides the children with aesthetic training—but it should not be the only activity. What I liked about the exercises in Dornach was the truly beautiful interplay of lines, the harmony in the movement, the artistic and aesthetic qualities. But I have my doubts as to whether these eurythmy exercises will help prepare the body for one’s life’s work. I would like clarification on whether Rudolf Steiner wants only eurythmy performances, or whether he wishes to deny any validity to school gymnastics based on physiological principles. If it were the case that physical exercises based on an understanding of the human body were to be completely denied any validity, then I could not fully agree with the introduction of eurythmy.

[ 56 ] Rudolf Steiner: To avoid any misunderstandings, I would like to say a few words about the last point right away. Perhaps it did not come across clearly enough in the lecture—after all, I could only touch on the subject briefly—but it goes without saying that when we present eurythmy in Dornach, we present it first and foremost as an artistic performance, while taking into account what you said appeals to you. That is why we present precisely those elements that are, of course, more suited to being viewed, to the mental image, and to artistic expression. In the lecture, I wanted rather to point out that by observing this eurythmy, one can recognize the principle of how to imbue with spirit and soul that which is today conceived of as merely physiological—though, of course, this is put somewhat radically, since gymnastics is not conceived of as purely physiological either. Incidentally, in the introduction I always say that eurythmy is still in its infancy, and while it may seem one-sided today because certain limbs are developed more than others, I would like to emphasize—as a point of substance—that this too will disappear as it develops further. However, I did not want to give the impression that it is my opinion that physical education should be eliminated when eurythmy is introduced. At the Waldorf School in Stuttgart, we have introduced one hour of regular gymnastics and one hour of eurythmy—though even there, eurythmy does not consist solely of what is presented as an artistic performance, so that the requirements you rightly set are already taken into account.

[ 57 ] What matters to me is that the psychological and spiritual aspects be added to the physical and physiological elements that form the basis of gymnastics. Both must be present so that even in the movements a person performs in gymnastics, the soul—which is grasped as such in and of itself—plays a role, just as a interplay of body, soul, and spirit manifests itself in the human being as a whole. So this is by no means a matter of eliminating gymnastics; on the contrary, I would like gymnastics to be enriched by eurythmy. Not a single exercise on the parallel bars, not a single exercise on the high bar should be eliminated; nothing that belongs to gymnastics should be eliminated. But in addition to asking, “How is this or that muscle treated from a physiological standpoint?”—eurythmy would also ask: ‘How does a spiritual impulse work?’—so that something is added to what already exists. I do not wish to criticize what already exists, but only to briefly describe the spiritualization and soul-infusion demanded by Spiritual Science. I fully agree with what you reject, but I would like to show that Spiritual Science can bring about a soul-infusion of gymnastics.

[ 58 ] Mr. Blumer explains that the principle developed by Rudolf Steiner is immensely instructive and fruitful for the school. When one considers how the matter is currently handled in schools, one must conclude that it does not correspond to the stages Rudolf Steiner outlined. He continues:

[ 59 ] Goethe once said that, in order to develop sensitivity, a child must briefly relive the cultural epochs of humanity. And if we were to truly build upon these valuable words of Goethe’s and put them to good use, we would arrive at methods that are in complete contradiction to the ideas we have been cultivating for years.

[ 60 ] Secondly, I would like to note the following: Drawing instruction always begins with individual lines, straight lines, and shapes. However, when we look at the artwork of cave dwellers and their drawings in the caves, we must bear in mind that they received no formal drawing instruction whatsoever. And I believe that even from these earliest drawings and depictions by those indigenous peoples, we can learn an immense amount for our children’s art education. Or, to take singing as another example: Today we always start with the scale, as if that were the natural foundation for our school singing; whereas, if one studies the history of music, one immediately realizes that the scale is an abstraction that humanity only arrived at over the course of many centuries, while the primary element in music is the triad—the chord, in general. And so our singing lessons should be structured much more around the chord and only later move on to the scale. I believe that for other subjects as well—such as geography and history—we should pay much more attention to how those early peoples acquired this—I dare not say “science,” but simply this “knowledge.” And if we were to adopt this approach in the same way—for example, by presenting geography through interesting drawings depicting the voyages of explorers to the New World and so on—the child would show much, much more interest. They could experience it vicariously, rather than being presented with the finished results of the present day in dry textbooks and dry guides—guides spelled with a “d.”

[ 61 ] Mr. Weber: I must bring this discussion to a close; unfortunately, it has gone on too long.

[ 62 ] Mr. Hulliger: Just one more quick question: Wouldn’t it be possible for us to form an educational working group here in Basel? Wouldn’t some colleagues be willing to get together to discuss these issues and also conduct practical experiments? I believe we could be of great help to one another. After all, it’s no longer possible for any one individual to delve into all the different areas, and we could offer each other a great deal through a working group. Not that we would give each other lectures, but rather we would focus on a specific area, exchange ideas, conduct practical experiments as far as possible, and discuss the results of those experiments. There is no such working group in Basel yet, but there are, for example, in Winterthur and in Germany.

[ 63 ] Mr. Weber: The speaker should take the initiative and bring this about.

[ 64 ] Rudolf Steiner: Time has run out too much for me to even attempt to offer a proper closing remark. It gives me the deepest satisfaction that the various speakers in the discussion have, in fact, offered only additions that were extraordinarily interesting and that fit quite naturally into the thrust of the lecture. Isn’t that so? One can certainly understand that what can be seen in Dornach—including the individual artistic achievements there—reflects, in a way, the convictions that underlie Spiritual Science.

[ 65 ] Now the gentleman who has spoken here so beautifully about how one can be educated not toward external observation but toward artistic feeling would see how, precisely through Spiritual Science, attempts have been made to do justice to such things even within artistic endeavor itself. For example, in Dornach an attempt has been made to paint purely from color, so that the inner substance of the color—of the colored surface—is still perceived, and whatever appears as a line is meant to emerge from the surface of color. In this regard, the essence of Spiritual Science can also have a stimulating effect on many of the things that have been touched upon today.

[ 66 ] The reference to Herbart’s pedagogy interested me greatly, for there is much to be learned from Herbart—both in a positive and a negative sense. Above all, when one sees how, despite all efforts to develop a method, the intellectualism of the age played a predominant role in Herbart’s psychology. And precisely when one grapples with Herbart’s pedagogy, one must, by fighting against certain aspects of it, arrive at the very principles that form the basis of my remarks today.

[ 67 ] I agree with the last speaker on almost every point. He could see for himself that the very things he called for—developed and elaborated in every detail—are among the most fundamental aspects of our Waldorf School. In particular, what was said regarding the methods of drawing, music, and geography has been put into practice, for a great deal of effort has been devoted precisely to these three areas. Thus, in the trial lesson, we developed a study of the Mississippi region—I believe that the way this trial lesson was prepared, to present geography in a lively and vivid manner, arising not from any theory or intellectualism but from the whole of human experience, would have satisfied the esteemed speaker.

[ 68 ] So, rather than offering closing remarks, I would simply like to say that I am extremely pleased that so many people have provided such wonderful and important additions to the lecture.