The Rudolf Steiner Archive

3. Understanding Human Nature as the Foundation of Education

[ 1 ] You will have seen that my efforts are directed toward gaining insight into the nature of the human being—and thus into the nature of the developing child—which then makes it possible to apply in practice what is necessary when one has the task, as an educational artist, of truly guiding human potential toward life in a way that fosters its flourishing. You can already see from the hints I have been able to offer so far that the question I raised in the first lecture can, in a certain sense, already be answered—at least in part. This question is, I believe, of particular importance for today’s educators. The question is: How is it, then, that on the one hand we have an excellent scientific pedagogy—that is, the embodiment of the principles of outstanding pedagogical geniuses—and yet, across the broadest circles, we have justified criticisms of the art of pedagogy, of the current application of this pedagogical science? This stems from the fact that, while we do have abstract guidelines—derived from the principles provided by pedagogical geniuses through a certain instinctive intuition—on how one should conduct oneself as an educator, but that this body of principles—in the past era, during which our entire worldview has been permeated by it—has not been matched by a genuine insight into human nature within the field of educational science itself. From the natural sciences, as they have been pursued—and one need not overlook their great advances or their tremendous triumphs—one cannot directly derive an art of education. For this, it is necessary to penetrate the essence of the developing human being from entirely different perspectives. And so it can be said that, above all, natural science—which has remained theoretical and has created a dichotomy between the external, physical realm and the spiritual-psychic realm—has provided no support or assistance for these excellent pedagogical principles, and that these principles have therefore, until now, been dependent on being instinctively applied by educators with a special aptitude.

[ 2 ] It goes without saying that people such as Pestalozzi, Diesterweg, and others like them, with their magnificent pedagogical instinct, also developed an instinctive understanding of human nature. But we are living in an age in which human culture can no longer rely on instinct alone. In the more or less ancient patriarchal forms of social coexistence, one could get by on instinct; we are now living in an age in which everything must become more and more conscious. And so we must also consciously acquire an understanding of human nature. But this is only possible if we bring closer together the study of the human being—in a sense, the cognitive aspect of the human being—and the practical application, the practice, which proves to be so necessary, particularly for educators. We cannot make much use of what the natural sciences tell us about human physiology and biology to the extent that we can directly derive pedagogical rules from it, or that we can immediately discern where there is inferior aptitude, where there is superior aptitude in one direction or another, and how these aptitudes are to be utilized.

[ 3 ] For all this to become possible, a different understanding of human nature is necessary than that which follows from current natural science. I have already mentioned some of the elements that must be pursued to lay the foundation for such an understanding of human nature; others, which are intended to build a bridge to the true art of education, we have yet to discover. Above all, I would like to point out that, first of all, in this age of materialism, we have become less and less capable—as I have already described from various perspectives—of truly understanding the physical organization of the human being; and, on the other hand, we have come to the point where, as a means of approaching human beings, we can hardly use anything other than language. And what we call “concrete instruction”—we will see that this concrete instruction is something extraordinarily beneficial in certain areas of education and teaching, but it must not become one-sided. Likewise, we will have to ask ourselves whether language—communication with the developing child—is, in and of itself, a means of truly reaching the child’s essence. We cannot answer this question except by attempting to delve a little deeper into the essence of the human being.

[ 4 ] I would like to draw your attention to the following: Anyone who attempts to form a picture of the human organism based on what is written in the introductory sections of standard educational handbooks or psychology texts—in order to structure the spiritual realm and the art of education using principles derived from the natural sciences and psychology—does such a person not actually hold the mental image that the human organism is a composite of forms firmly held together? One tends to hold this view: There is the human organism; inside the skull there is something like a solid brain—or at least a solid or semi-solid brain; there are the other organs—the liver, lungs, and so on. Even based on the diagrams one sees—indeed, even based on the immediate visual impression one can gain when approaching the matter superficially, or through clinical observation—one forms a mental image that these clearly defined, I might say, sharply delineated contours of the individual organs are the only thing that constitutes the human organism. But I ask you to bear in mind that the human being is actually, at a conservative estimate, 80 percent a column of fluid—that is to say, his organization consists of solid matter only to the very slightest degree. Can one really assume that one is truly describing the human being’s organization when one describes him as if the individual organs were sharply defined structures? The human being is a column of fluid. Furthermore, the human being is filled with gaseous matter. Very, very little consideration is given to all of this. Even something like the nervous system is described as if one were dealing with more or less solid strands, or at least as something that shimmers from the solid into the soft. In doing so, one lacks the awareness that it is embedded everywhere in liquid or even in gaseous matter—gaseous matter that exists in the human organism only in the form of vibrations and rhythmic movements. Anyone who becomes aware that in the human being—I will now set aside the gaseous aspect—we are dealing with a column of fluid; anyone who becomes aware, for example, of how the brain is embedded in cerebrospinal fluid; anyone who becomes aware how much of our organ life is connected to the process I described in a certain way yesterday—that cerebrospinal fluid oscillates up and down under the influence of inhalation and exhalation—will not merely attribute a kind of parallelism between those processes in the organism and the clearly defined spiritual-soul phenomena, but will have to form the following mental image: While I think, while I feel, while I will, it is also the liquid components of the organism that are constantly in some kind of motion, assuming a fluid structure and then dissolving that fluid structure again. One must ask oneself: Why, for example, should the process of imagination be connected—which, in fact, it is not—to any vibrations or similar processes in the nerve tracts? Why shouldn’t it be connected to vibrations within the liquid components of the human being? The materialistic age of natural science has not posed this question in the proper way at all. And for the goals that conventional natural science initially sets for itself, one gets by just fine with what natural science brings to light. For, you see, modern science is actually quite advanced in its practical results in the field of solid-state technology, or even in the field of liquids—where the liquid is present externally in space—or in the field of gases, as in steam technology, where this gaseous substance is present externally in space and must be controlled.

[ 5 ] When one applies the findings of natural science to the inorganic realm, one must take into account how things work. This is precisely why natural science has made such remarkable progress in this particular field during the age of materialism—because it had to keep pace with technology at every turn. One need only consider that if someone were to build a railroad bridge based on incorrect mechanical principles, it would very soon become apparent that the bridge would collapse if two trains crossed it instead of one. We have witnessed such accidents. In such cases, practical experience corrects the erroneous principles.

[ 6 ] The further we move into areas where the inorganic-technical no longer exerts a corrective influence, the less practice influences theory. I need only point out that, after all, even medicine is by no means in the same position as the technology of the inorganic world. In the case of a railroad bridge or something similar, you can quickly see what it means to work with incorrect scientific principles. When a doctor treats a patient, it is still not customary today to hold him accountable—nor are the means available, because the natural sciences are not permeated by Spiritual Science— it is not yet possible to verify whether he has done everything necessary for the patient’s recovery. There, the situation is quite different; the theoretical perspective cannot be readily corrected based on practice. Now—forgive me for making this remark as well, but I think it is particularly important for educators, because for educators, the whole of life is important—if one were to examine, say, the field of jurisprudence or economic life with regard to the application of the principles that people hold, then one would see how feeble the control exercised by practice is today. The law is supposed to decree that what officially established jurisprudence does is correct. This is customary in all countries. Whether the matter can be justified in light of a true understanding of human nature is just as much out of the question today as it was in Goethe’s time, when he entrusted his *Faust* with the question of the right with which we are born.

[ 7 ] And finally, people don't even feel the need to form any mental images about how what we do with the younger generation—based on what appear to be excellent pedagogical principles—is connected to what ultimately emerges. But it is precisely here that I would like to draw attention to one thing—I have done so repeatedly in other contexts—so that people might at least once turn their spiritual gaze in the appropriate direction. You can learn today about the terrible things being perpetrated in the social sphere in Eastern Europe, in Russia. You will certainly hear with horror the news of what is being perpetrated there under the influence of Lenin’s and Trotsky’s theories in Eastern Europe. And actually, people are only concerned with what is happening today. What will become of what is happening today in 20 or 25 years—what barbarism will befall Europe as the fruit of these things—people today do not even want to create a mental image of it. But observing precisely what is in the making in the development of humanity—that is, after all, the task of the educator.

[ 8 ] Now, here’s something peculiar. You see, in Zurich, a philosopher named Avenarius—who at first seemed a very respectable, middle-class man—taught philosophy. Later on, a student of Ernst Mach named Vogt taught there, along with the associated philosopher Adler—the very same Adler who later shot the Austrian minister Stärgkh. Well, one might not say that Adler was as respectable a gentleman as Avenarius; but Avenarius was a respectable, middle-class gentleman. Yet he expounded the very philosophy, the very worldview, that was entirely possible to expound based on the materialism of that time. And if you investigate the “political philosophy” of Bolshevism today, you will find that this “political philosophy” of Bolshevism is that of Avenarius! Two generations later, what was taught as genuine philosophy in Zurich has become the very theory that is being directly put into practice by Bolshevism!

[ 9 ] People do not even consider this connection across generations because they have no clear understanding of what happens when the views of one generation are passed down to the next—and I do not mean merely through physical inheritance—and then to the generation after that. The respectable, middle-class Avenarius taught a philosophy that, after a relatively short time, must indeed lead to the barbarization of Europe. The point is that, if one wants to understand what value a particular view holds for human development, one must not rely solely on abstract judgments, but must be able to look into the way in which views actually take effect. To look ahead to what will become of what we do in the classroom in 20, 25, or 30 years—that is an important duty of all pedagogy. For all pedagogy has the task of consciously positioning itself within the development of humanity. This is not possible without a thorough understanding of human nature. This understanding of human nature must be provided by a natural science renewed through Spiritual Science. This natural science, renewed through Spiritual Science, will not be a figment of the imagination, but rather a sound understanding of the human material organism as the physical vehicle of soul and spiritual life.

[ 10 ] Today I would like to draw your attention to an important aspect of our inner life that you are all familiar with and that will prove to be significant, especially as we now proceed further and further into the realm of pedagogy: the process by which what we process through our imagination—once we have reached the necessary age as children—becomes part of our memory over time. As you know, for the health of our inner life, the mental images formed as results of sensory impressions, as results of our power of judgment, and so on—we can describe the details later—must be properly transformed; these results must be incorporated into our life of imagination, into our capacity for recollection, into our memory. When we describe something externally, we in turn—let us say, for now, in an abstract sense—draw from the inner life of the soul that which we have experienced as a mental image in the external world or in our interactions with our fellow human beings. We recall it into our consciousness once more. What is actually happening there?

[ 11 ] More and more, the general view has been to regard this process in a one-sided, abstract way as merely a mental process. People have asked: What becomes of our mental images once they are taken up by the soul? What were they when they were taken up and then recalled through memory? How does this process take place? One cannot study this process without looking intimately into the connection between the soul-spiritual and the bodily-physical. Certainly, there will be so-called idealists who might even say: Yes, Spiritual Science is, at heart, entirely materialistic; it refers everywhere to the physical organs. — No, it would be a tremendous mistake to believe that. On the contrary, Spiritual Science recognizes the great power of the soul in the formation of the organs. It must attribute to the soul a power greater than merely working in abstractions; it must attribute to the soul the power to form the organs in the first place; so that it seeks out the soul first and foremost in early childhood, when work on the formation of the organs continues even after birth, precisely through the spiritual-soul aspect.

[ 12 ] I would like to say: A very first step toward a truly rational consideration of psychological and physical life is provided by Goethe’s Theory of Colors—this much-misunderstood work of Goethe’s, about which one need only speak positively today to be immediately branded a dilettante, but which, I believe, will soon be viewed by physicists in a different light than it is today. But I do not wish to go into an appreciation of Goethe’s Theory of Colors today; rather, I simply want to refer you to the beautiful chapter where Goethe speaks at the beginning about physiological colors, and to the other beautiful chapter where, toward the end, he discusses the sensory and moral effects of colors. The middle section, after all, is the one specifically contested by physicists. The beginning and the end—these are judged more, even today, by artistic minds, and they find it easier to come to terms with the subject. But it would also be necessary, in the pursuit of a scientific foundation for pedagogy, to attempt to draw assistance from this perspective that Goethe adopts toward the world of colors.

[ 13 ] Goethe draws particular attention at the outset to the lively interaction that exists between the eye and the external world; not only a lively interaction that lasts as long as we expose the eye to any color phenomenon in the external world, but one that continues even afterward. Goethe deals in particular with afterimages that arise as a result of the immediate impression. You are all familiar with these afterimages, which arise within the sensory organ itself—in this specific case, the eye. You need only expose your eye for a short time—say, to a green surface—and then look away from that green, sharply defined surface toward a white surface, and you will subjectively perceive the same surface as red in the aftereffect. Afterimages arise. The organ remains under the influence of what it has experienced with the external world for a while.

[ 14 ] You see, this is the basic process as it unfolds in the sense organs. Something takes place in the sense organs during the time the sense organ is exposed to the process or to things in the external world, and something else takes place afterward before it eventually subsides. But even from the outside, a person will be able to notice a certain similarity between what takes place in the sense organ over a short period of time and what takes place in the human organism with regard to the faculty of recollection, to memory. Just as the red lingers for a short time after the green, so the mental image of the directly experienced perception lingers within the organism. Only the time scales are completely different.

[ 15 ] And there is something else that is different as well. This, in turn, brings us closer to understanding the difference in temporal relationships. When we expose the eye to a color impression and then experience an aftereffect, it is something entirely partial; it is a single organ on the periphery of the human organism that brings about the aftereffect. When a memory image emerges from within a person, recalling something that existed years ago, then the whole person—as one can sense, and as is evident—is involved in this act of recall; then a lingering effect sets in in which the whole person is involved.

[ 16 ] What is actually going on inside a human being? Yes, one can only understand this by delving more deeply into certain processes within the human organism, which I alluded to at the beginning of today’s reflection. I would also like to draw attention here to a fact that has been cast in a completely false light by modern scientific thinking. This is the function and role of the heart within the entire human organism. Today, you find the heart described everywhere as a kind of pump that pumps blood to all parts of the human organism. In a sense, the entire blood circulation is attributed to the activity of the heart. The fact that this contradicts embryology, and that closer observation—even of the heartbeat and similar phenomena—reveals contradictions, is something people still refuse to examine properly today. In fact, there are only a few people—such as the excellent physician Schmid, who wrote a treatise on this subject as early as the 1880s, and the forensic anthropologist Moritz Benedikt—who have drawn attention to this matter; but all of this is insufficient; it is merely elementary; there are only a few who have actually come to realize that the movements of the heart are a consequence of the movement of the blood, that the movement of the blood itself is the fundamental life force, that the heart does not pump, but rather that the heart itself, in its movements, is under the influence of the living, flowing blood. The heart is nothing more than the organ that, so to speak, balances the two circulatory systems—namely, that of the upper human, the “head human,” and that of the “limb human.” These two blood movements converge in the heart. But blood is not a lifeless substance that is merely pumped like a stream of water; rather, blood is itself intrinsically alive, generates its own movements, and transmits these movements to the heart, which in its own movements merely reflects the movements of the blood. Just as one can say that there is a parallelism between the more or less solid organ and the mental processes, so too—as I explained yesterday—is there a parallelism between this movement of the blood and the mental processes,

[ 17 ] An organ such as the heart—what role does it play in relation to the soul? I would like to ask it this way: if, under the influence of truly sound natural science, we say that the blood itself is alive and in motion, and that the heart’s movement—the entire activity of this organ—is actually only a consequence of blood circulation, merely inserting itself into the living blood circulation—well, what, then, is the heart’s function?

[ 18 ] An unbiased observation reveals that when the eye is exposed to the outside world, the experiences the eye has during this exposure linger for a moment but soon disappear. As we develop our emotional world, this emotional world is closely connected to our entire blood circulation. There are other factors as well, but I am singling out blood circulation. Just consider this: when we feel shame, we blush; everyone knows this is because the blood flows to the periphery; when we are afraid, we turn pale: the blood flows toward the center. Just as in this extreme case—and this can be studied in individual cases— —the Copenhagen physiologist Lange has conducted excellent studies on this connection between blood flow, the processes within the organism in general, and mental processes—just as one can observe in extreme cases how the emotional experience of fear or shame affects blood circulation, so too does normal mental life continuously affect blood circulation. Our emotional life is constantly active. It only affects normal blood circulation in one direction or another when it becomes extreme in one direction or the other. But just as we breathe continuously, so do we feel continuously; just as blood circulation is continuous, so do we feel continuously, and you will see that we even feel while we sleep, if we continue to examine these processes.

[ 19 ] What circulates in the blood is the outward physical expression of our emotional experience. Our emotional life, in turn, is connected to our imaginative life. Now, whatever we imprint upon our circulatory system—all of it resonates within the human heart. And the heart is precisely—Goethe uses the expression “the eye” to describe it as an inner, living organ—the heart is likewise a living organ. Its task is not merely to serve the blood; it is something that holds great significance throughout the entire human organism. While the eye, so to speak, adapts to external light impressions only for a short time, the heart continually resonates with the subtle vibrations into which the blood is set by the influence of the emotional life and the imaginative life connected to it. Gradually, the heart itself incorporates into the configuration of its vibrational life that which lives particularly in the emotional life and the imaginative life connected to it. And one of the organs that plays a role when memories of experiences are recalled is the heart. All the human organs that participate in the flow of bodily fluids within the organism—such as the kidneys, which are embedded in the excretory flow, and the liver, which is involved in the digestive flow, and so on—all these organs resonate, as our emotional and volitional life causes the circulatory and metabolic processes to resonate as well. And just as an afterimage arises from the eye, so too does what we experience in the external world return from our entire being, differentiated and specified in memory. The whole human being is an organ that resonates, and the organs—which are usually thought of merely as being physically situated one next to the other—are in reality there to internally process what the human being experiences on the soul-spiritual level and to preserve it in a certain way. We shall see that this is only seemingly a materialistic view; we shall see how it leads precisely to a correct understanding of the human being as a spiritual being. But even today, as I draw your attention to this, you can see how such a view encompasses the whole human being—not merely as modern materialistic natural science does today, by placing the individual organs side by side, depicting them next to one another, and then even attributing material, mechanistic functions to them—such as the heart as a “pump,” a concept that would never even occur to the heart itself. The perspective of Spiritual Science shows that the whole human being is at once body, soul, and spirit, and that we actually only distinguish between these three aspects—body, soul, and spirit—in our mental image. In reality, body, soul, and spirit are constantly interconnected within the human being.

[ 20 ] Take a moment to familiarize yourself with what embryology already tells us today—how the heart gradually develops within the organs of the circulatory system, within the vascular system of the circulatory system. Observe how the heart is not present from the very beginning, with the development of the circulatory organs stemming from it, but rather how the circulatory system forms little by little, and the heart actually emerges last as the result of embryonic development! You can see directly in embryology that things are exactly as I have described them. Thus, on the one hand, through Spiritual Science we strive not to view the human liver merely as a liver, nor the human spleen merely as a spleen—as they appear to us when we dissect a corpse in the clinic—but rather to attempt to answer the question: What significance do these organs hold in spiritual and soul life? After all, we do not regard the eye merely as a mere physical instrument; nor should we regard the other organs as mere physical instruments. And while we believe that the liver is merely a digestive organ, it has very, very much to do precisely with the spiritual life of the human being. — I will describe this to you in detail later; today I would simply like to outline the methodological approach of these considerations and indicate something of the direction in which this methodological approach is heading.

[ 21 ] Language has sometimes preserved such things: You see, the ancients, who still possessed a primal knowledge—an instinctive, primal knowledge—did not always view things as abstractly as we do. “Hypochondria,” abdominal cartilaginousness—the fact that what appears to be merely a psychological anomaly has its cause in the human abdomen is implied in this name. And the English language, which is still at a somewhat earlier stage than the Central European languages—just look it up—has designated something as “spleen”: You know that when one speaks of “spleen,” one means something psychological. But “spleen” is also the spleen, and there are good physiological reasons for this; for the spleen has a great deal to do with psychological spleen. We will discuss this in more detail later. These things have been almost entirely lost. Materialism, in particular, has lost its knowledge of the physical organs, especially those of the human being. How, then, is one to treat human beings at all if one is unable to understand what they are physically, since they are built up, piece by piece, out of the spiritual and psychological, so that nothing is physical that is not a manifestation of the spiritual and psychological!

[ 22 ] On the one hand, a genuine focus on the physical realm is necessary if we are to establish a sound foundation for pedagogy. Yes, you see, when I have to speak about these things here, a prejudice can very easily arise: here is someone who actually wants to overturn everything in the world that has been painstakingly developed through hard work in science. This is not done lightly; of that you can be assured. In general, it is much more comfortable today to blow the familiar trumpet than to have to oppose certain things out of genuine insight, because one realizes that such a stance is necessary in the realm of spiritual life, precisely for a genuine cultural renewal of our decadent age. I myself would much rather present—in whatever way I can—the findings of modern natural science, which I, too, fully acknowledge within their scope, than have to oppose them in a certain direction, precisely where human understanding is concerned.

[ 23 ] On the one hand, then, this effort is necessary when one considers the physical and bodily aspects; but on the other hand, it is also necessary when one considers the practice of human interaction. And, after all, teaching and education are really just a special case of human interaction. We have had to distinguish between human life up to the change of teeth and then again up to sexual maturity, and I have tried to describe to you how different the forces are in the first stage of human life compared to the second. This, however, necessitates a completely different kind of psychological experience for both stages of life. Simply because the imaginative faculty is directed toward that inner hardening of the human body during the first stage of life—which reaches its culmination with the change of teeth around the age of seven—the most important means of communication for a person in this period within their human environment is the principle of imitation. Everything a child does during these years, up until the change of teeth, is done according to the principle of imitation. What a child’s environment does during this stage of life is of infinite importance; for the child simply imitates. It is one of the characteristics of this stage of life that the child imitates. And this imitation is connected to the very same forces that bring the second set of teeth out of the jaw. They are the same forces, and as we have seen, they are the powers of imagination. The powers of imagination are at the same time the formative powers. They are the forces that are at work in the child through the principle of imitation. Imagine what this means when one grasps it not only with the mind, not merely intellectually, but when one grasps it with the whole person, with the whole soul—when one has a full, universally human understanding of it! This means that I know: when I do something in front of a child who is not yet seven years old, I am not doing it just for myself; rather, my action continues into the child’s own action. I am not alone in my actions. We shall see: I am not alone in my “actions,” in my will, in my feelings; I am not alone in my thinking or mental images, for these act as imponderables. And, as we shall see, it makes a difference whether I live alongside the child with a good disposition and let the child grow up beside me, or with a bad disposition. Here, imponderables are at work that are not yet appreciated today. Just as one does not appreciate the connection between the spiritual-soul aspect and the individual physical human organ, so one does not appreciate what lives between people as a real force: the spiritual-soul aspect itself.

[ 24 ] And again, from the time of tooth replacement until sexual maturity, as I have described, the will asserts itself so strongly that, in boys, we experience this assertive will in the change of voice; in girls, it expresses itself in a different way; we will speak more about this later. What is at work in the child precisely during the elementary school years already shows us that it is a matter of the will—that there is something that, originating in the will, seeks to enter the body and establish itself there. The mere principle of imitation can no longer be at work here—although, as we shall see, it remains particularly important from an educational standpoint up to the age of nine and must be incorporated into the curriculum—the mere principle of imitation can no longer be at work here; rather, a different principle must now come into play. This is the principle of authority. If, when I am raising or teaching a child between the ages of 7 and 14 or 15, I do not act as an authority figure, this has the same effect on the child’s spiritual and soul life as it would have on the physical body if I were to cut off two of the child’s fingers or an arm, thereby preventing the child from fully expressing itself physically through its behavior. I am taking something away from the child when I deprive it of what is striving to emerge from within: the experience of having older people beside them who educate and teach them as true authorities.

[ 25 ] This brings us to something that requires us to communicate with the growing child in ways other than through observation and language; it brings us to the role of love in teaching and upbringing. One of the intangible aspects of interacting with the growing child in an educational context is that we are justified in exercising authority over the child, and that this authority becomes a force that operates as a matter of course. It does not become so unless we are, in a certain sense, imbued with what we have to impart to the child. If, as teachers or educators, we merely carry that particular store of knowledge within us in a dry, rote manner—if we educate or teach solely out of a sense of duty—then we have a different effect on the child than when we are deeply committed, with inner warmth and enthusiasm, to what we have to convey to them. If we work ceaselessly with every fiber of our soul and identify completely with this treasure trove of knowledge, then our love for what we carry in our soul acts as a means of communication just as effective as visual instruction and language. These are the intangible factors whose significance we will be able to grasp precisely through a pedagogical science enriched by the Spiritual Science.

[ 26 ] We’ll continue discussing this tomorrow. In particular, questions such as those submitted to me in writing today will be answered in the following lectures. For precisely those things I spoke about yesterday and today—and their connection, for example, to Haeckel’s biogenetic principle (which is noted in one of the questions)—will become quite clear and distinct. The materialistic mindset of our time has been a major obstacle, particularly when it comes to shedding light on educational matters from these perspectives. I believe these matters will be placed in their proper light, precisely through the course of the following discussion.