The Rudolf Steiner Archive

Sixth Lecture

[ 1 ] When we consider the relationship between the growing individual and the broader human environment, the principles of moral and social education emerge as the most important. And it is these that we would like to briefly examine today—even if, unfortunately, we can only do so in a very general way. Here, too, the key is to adapt as much as possible to the individuality of the growing human being. But one must also bear in mind that, as an educator or teacher, one is oneself a product of the social life of the surrounding community and, in a sense, embodies that social life and the moral views of the community, bringing them to the growing child. Here, too, one must do precisely what, from a pedagogical and didactic standpoint, truly offers the prospect of being absorbed into the person’s own being—a being that must be recognized in the manner indicated here over the past few days.

[ 2 ] It is indeed true that an extraordinary amount depends on the way in which things are presented to the child at a particular age. Now there are three virtues that must be considered—on the one hand, in relation to the child’s development, but on the other hand, also in connection with human social life as a whole. These are the three fundamental virtues. And these three fundamental virtues are, first, that which can live in the will to gratitude; second, that which can live in the will to love; and third, that which can live in the will to duty. Essentially, these three virtues are the primordial virtues of the human being. All others are, in a certain sense, contained within them.

[ 3 ] Yet humanity’s attention is far too rarely focused on what I would like to call, in this context, gratitude. Gratitude, however, is a virtue which—if it is to be fully realized in the human soul—must grow with the person; it must already begin to flow into the person during the period when the forces of growth are at their most vibrant and malleable inwardly. Gratitude is precisely something that must develop out of that physical-religious relationship which I have described in recent days as prevailing in the child from birth through the change of teeth. But this gratitude is also something that arises quite naturally during this stage of life when the child is treated properly. If what flows into the child through imitation—through proper reverence and proper love for those in the child’s environment, such as parents or other caregivers—flows out from the child’s inner being, then everything that radiates from the child’s soul will truly be imbued with gratitude. I would like to say: We need only behave in such a way that we are worthy of gratitude, and then this gratitude will flow to us from the children—especially in the early years of life. And then this gratitude develops in such a way that it grows; it grows by flowing into the forces of growth that cause the limbs to grow, forces that even alter the chemical composition of the blood and other bodily fluids. This gratitude lives within the body, and it must live within the body; otherwise, it is not deeply enough rooted in the person. It would be wrong, for example, to admonish a child: “You should be grateful for what those around you do for you.” Instead, one should naturally incorporate the feeling of gratitude into daily life by allowing the child to observe how one, as an adult, is grateful for the things that another person voluntarily gives or does for one, and by expressing that gratitude; in this way, the child becomes accustomed to imitating the feeling of gratitude that prevails in their surroundings. If the child learns on their own—not through admonitions—to say “Thank you” quite often—not out of obligation, but by imitation—this has an extraordinarily beneficial effect on the child’s overall development. For it is precisely from this sense of gratitude—which is far too often overlooked and which takes root in the child during the first stage of life—that a comprehensive, universal sense of gratitude toward the entire world develops. And it is so important that a person cultivate this sense of gratitude toward the whole world. It does not always need to rise to the level of consciousness, but it can live within a person unconsciously and intuitively—so that they feel grateful when, after some effort, they come to a place where they encounter a beautiful meadow full of flowers. A feeling of gratitude for everything one sees in nature can arise unconsciously and intuitively within a person. A feeling of gratitude can arise every morning when the sun rises anew. A feeling of gratitude can arise toward all natural phenomena. And in a correspondingly graduated manner, if we simply behave toward children in the right way, a sense of gratitude develops toward everything that people give us, everything they do for us, what they say to us, how they smile at us, how they treat us, and so on. This universal sense of gratitude is the foundation for a person’s true religiosity. For one does not always realize in life that it is precisely this universal sense of gratitude—when it takes hold of a person in their entirety, and it must do so already in the first stage of life—that then gives rise to something entirely different. For it is the case in human life that love itself flows into everything, provided only that life offers the appropriate opportunity to develop this love. The opportunity for the more intensive development of love, extending even into the physical realm, arises only in the second stage of life, between the change of teeth and sexual maturity. But it is precisely that tender blossom of love—which, without yet manifesting outwardly, is deeply rooted within the child—that takes firm hold as gratitude develops. And the love that arises from gratitude in the first stage of a child’s life is the love of God. One must be clear about the fact that, just as one must plant the roots of a plant in the soil in order to have blossoms later, one must also plant gratitude, because it is the root of love for God. For love for God will develop precisely as the blossom from the root of universal gratitude.

[ 4 ] One must be mindful of such things, because, in the abstract, one usually knows what life should be like; but in concrete terms, one does not. In the abstract, of course, it’s easy to demand that people carry the love of God within themselves. That is, after all, as true as it gets. But abstract demands have the peculiarity that, in their abstractness, they do not become reality.

[ 5 ] Let me return once more to something I’ve said over the past few days. One could well say to the stove: “Look, you’re a stove; we’ve put you there to heat the room; your categorical imperative—which is the true categorical stove imperative—is that you heat the room.” That won’t warm the room! But I can skip all that talk and stoke the stove with wood; then the stove will warm the room, even if I don’t remind it of its categorical stove imperative. And the same is true when we introduce the right things to a child at the right stage of life. So if we instill gratitude in a child during the first stage of life, then when we later accomplish the other thing—which I will discuss later—out of gratitude toward the whole world, toward the cosmos, and ultimately out of that feeling of gratitude that should actually inspire all human beings—the gratitude for simply being here in the world— —it is precisely from this feeling of gratitude that the innermost, warmest piety will then develop; that piety which does not reside merely on the lips or in the thoughts, but which fills the whole person, and which is also honest, sincere, and entirely true. But gratitude must grow. And the soul and spirit can grow in such an intense way—as is necessary for gratitude—only if this gratitude is developed from the tender stirrings of the child between birth and the time when the baby teeth fall out. Then this gratitude is the root of love for God. It is the foundation of love for God.

[ 6 ] And once we get the child into elementary school, we as teachers or educators are strongly urged to consider what the child’s life has been like up to this age of compulsory schooling. And in fact, there should always be close contact with the family home and with what has come before. This contact should always be sought. The teacher and educator should have a clear mental image of what—simply developed through social circumstances—is present because the child was placed in a particular environment in a certain way. And one will then always have the opportunity, if one simply recognizes these things, to correct them in one way or another even during the child’s school-age years. But—one must recognize these things in the right way. For this, contact with the family home is necessary. It is necessary to observe carefully: what might the child have observed in this or that mother and formed within themselves by imitation? It is so immensely important to take this into account when the child begins elementary school. This is just as much a part of pedagogy and didactics as what I accomplish in the classroom. One simply must not exclude these things from true pedagogy and didactics.

[ 7 ] And now we have seen that, between the time of tooth replacement and sexual maturity, a natural authority must develop between the teacher, the educator, and the child. From this natural authority grows the second fundamental virtue: love. For the human organism, precisely during the period from the change of teeth to sexual maturity, is—as an organism—inclined to develop toward love. Now, in our present age, we must view the virtue of love in its proper light. For materialism has, in fact, gradually reduced love to an extremely one-sided mental image. And since this materialism often seeks to see love only in sexual love, it actually traces all other expressions of love back to hidden sexual love. And we even see—in what I described the day before yesterday as “dilettantism squared”—not among all, as many reject this—but among many psychoanalysts, a tendency to reduce a great many aspects of life that have nothing to do with it to the sexual element. In contrast, it is precisely the teacher and educator who must have internalized something of the universal nature of love. For it is not only sexual love that develops during the period from the change of teeth to sexual maturity, but love in general—love for everything. Sexual love is only one part of the love that develops during this stage of life. At this stage of life, one can see how love of nature develops, how universal love for humanity develops, and one must have a strong sense of how sexual love is merely a specific chapter in this general book of life that speaks of love. Once one understands this, one will also be able to orient sexual love correctly within the context of life. Today, for many theorists in particular, romantic love has essentially become a Moloch that has, in fact, gradually devoured all the seeds of love.

[ 8 ] Love develops in the soul in a different way than gratitude. Gratitude must grow along with the person; therefore, it must be instilled at that stage of life when the forces of growth are at their strongest. Love, on the other hand, must awaken. There is indeed something akin to a process of awakening in the development of love. Love must also be nurtured in more spiritual realms as it develops. What a person grows into as they gradually develop love within themselves is a slow, gradual awakening, until finally the last stage of this awakening is reached. Consider the ordinary, everyday process of waking up: at first, mental images still heavily tinged with drowsiness, perhaps some emerging sensations… the eyes slowly free themselves from being closed… a helping hand from outside—and finally, the transition of the moment of waking into the physical realm.

[ 9 ] That is indeed the case—except that, in the case of a child, the awakening of love takes about seven years. At first, love stirs in all those things that are so appealing to a child when we want to teach them their first lessons in school. When we begin to approach the child with this vivid imagery that I have described, we see love emerging precisely from this activity. And everything must be immersed in this love. There is something profoundly spiritual about this love, something incredibly tender. Compared to the usual act of awakening, one is actually still deep within the child’s sleep or sleeping dreams—the teacher, of course, should not be in that state, although it is often the teacher who is caught up in those sleeping dreams. This then gives way to a stronger jolt into waking life. And in all that I described yesterday and the day before regarding the period between the ages of 9 and 10—and especially as one approaches the age of 12—a love of nature awakens. It is only then that we will truly see it emerge.

[ 10 ] Before that, there is something entirely different in relation to nature: a love for all that is enchantingly alive in nature, which must be brought to life for the child in a pictorial way through the way the child is cared for. Then a love for the realities of nature awakens. And here we face a particularly difficult task: to infuse with gratitude—and I I’m not joking; I say this with the deepest seriousness—to instill grace. It is particularly necessary for teaching and education that we, for example, bring grace into geometry and physics lessons—true grace; the lessons must become graceful; above all, they must not be sour. This is precisely what ails teaching and education during the stage of life between about 11½ or 11¾; years and the ages of 14 and 15 in these subjects—to such an extent that it is often so sour that what must be said about the refraction of light, the reflection of light, the calculation of the surface area of a spherical cap, and so on, is presented not with grace, but with sourness.

[ 11 ] Especially during this stage of life, one thing must be taken into account: The teacher must bring into the school a spiritual breath that then communicates to the children in a most remarkable way. A spiritual breath. Breathing consists of inhaling and exhaling. You see, most of the time—or at least quite often—teachers in physics and geometry classes merely exhale spiritually. They do not inhale, and this exhalation, too, creates a sour atmosphere; I mean the spiritual exhalation that merely describes things in a dry manner, permeating everything with a personally adopted, overwhelming seriousness. Seriousness may well be present there, but not that overwhelming seriousness. And spiritual inhalation consists precisely of humor—the humor that arises from everything that happens in the classroom and elsewhere, wherever one has the opportunity to be together with those being educated and taught. The only obstacle that can stand in the way of the development of humor can only be the teacher; it is certainly not the children, nor is it all that one has to teach, if it is properly situated within this stage of life. The only obstacle can truly be the teacher alone. If the teacher truly manages to avoid chewing over the lesson’s content themselves during class, then they can gradually even reach the point where the reflected light might, under certain circumstances, make jokes—where the spherical cap, when it has to calculate its surface area, smiles. Of course, none of this has to happen through forced jokes. Things must be steeped in humor; they must be firmly embedded within the subject matter itself and drawn out from it. That is what matters. The inspiration must be sought within the things themselves. Above all, there should be no need to search for it at all. At most, as a well-prepared teacher, one should need to bring discipline to whatever comes to mind during class. For when one is well-prepared, all sorts of things come to mind. But the opposite is also true: if one is not well-prepared, nothing comes to mind, because one is simply struggling to get through the lesson material. This stifles the flow and prevents the fresh, humorous air of the soul from entering. — So this is especially necessary at this level of instruction.

[ 12 ] If instruction proceeds in this way, then the awakening takes place in such a way that the human soul and the human spirit ultimately occupy the correct position when the final act of awakening—the onset of sexual maturity—actually occurs. For this is, in fact, the moment when something that has developed in the soul—first gently, then more strongly—can finally take hold of the physical body in the proper way.

[ 13 ] Now you might say: Yes, but how must a teacher educate themselves in order to work in this way? You see, there is something to consider here that I would like to call the “social aspect” of teacher education, which is given far too little attention. There is still far too much in teacher training that stems from what a certain era—not the olden days, but a certain era—associated with the teaching profession. After all, the teaching profession was not respected and revered within general society to the extent that it should have been. And only when human society shows the teaching profession the proper respect, only when it truly sees the teacher—I don’t mean just seeing them when a political speech is being given—but truly perceives, with feeling, that which must continually bring new impulses to civilization—only in such a relationship does what the teacher needs as a foundation develop. And such a perspective—or perhaps better said, such a feeling—will bring into teacher education, above all, what constitutes a comprehensive view of life. For the teacher needs a comprehensive view of life. The teacher needs a vibrant, wholehearted engagement with life. The teacher does not merely need expert instruction in pedagogy and didactics, as is currently the case—he does not merely need to be trained to teach this or that subject, but above all, he needs something that is constantly renewed within himself. He needs a view of life that permeates his very being. They need a deep understanding of life itself. They need far more than they can put into words when standing before the children. This is something that must be incorporated into teacher training. And one should actually regard the educational question, in the strictest sense, as a social question. But this encompasses both instruction in school and the development of the teaching profession itself.

[ 14 ] Now, you see, what is presented here as pedagogy and didactics for the current stage of human development is by no means intended to be seen as subversive or radically revolutionary. It would be a profound misunderstanding to believe that. It is intended to be precisely what can be introduced into the present—without resorting to any form of radicalism—if one simply looks at it for what it is. That is all it can be about. But one might still say: It is precisely the social perspective on pedagogical questions that points us toward many aspects of life as well. And so I would like to mention something now—not so much to advocate for it in the present in terms of its content, or to agitate for it, but simply to illustrate, as it were, to state: This must come to pass one day. The present is not yet ready for it—so please do not regard what I am about to say as radicalism.

[ 15 ] You see, these days people are being awarded doctoral degrees who, when you get right down to it, have not actually been tested in what they have gone through up to the point of earning their doctorate. In fact, one is by no means tested in chemical, geographical, or geological knowledge when one is in the state in which people are very often awarded a doctorate today. Rather, one is only capable of possessing such knowledge once one has passed the test demonstrating that one can convey it to another in a proper, instructive, and educational manner. And at that point in life when a person, at whatever level, has passed the test proving that they can impart what they have absorbed to others through teaching and education, the practice of conferring doctoral degrees should actually be discontinued. You see, there is something in the instincts of the people that is extraordinarily wise. The instincts of the people actually recognize only one kind of doctor—the one who can heal, who demonstrates that he can heal; that is, the one who is engaged in living practice, not merely in the knowledge of medicine. Now, two concepts have emerged from this one: the concepts of education and healing. In earlier times, education was also conceived as a form of healing. The process of education was also regarded as a way of restoring a person to health. Because, as I have already indicated, it was believed that human beings possessed too much of what was merely inherited in physical terms, education was a form of healing. If one uses terminology in the old sense, one could even say: a healing from original sin. Thus, the healing processes undertaken by the doctor are merely on a slightly different level, but are essentially the same as those undertaken by the teacher. From the perspective of a comprehensive worldview, the teacher is just as much a healer as the doctor is. And so the social significance—which serious titles can confer (for titles do, after all, have meaning in social life)—might well coincide with the realization that only one who has been tested, who can apply in life what he otherwise merely possesses as knowledge, should be made a doctor; that is, this dignity is bestowed upon him. Because otherwise, it is really just a mere label.

[ 16 ] Well, as I said, this isn’t something I want to demand in an agitational way at the present time. I would never weave this into any speech other than an educational one. I know exactly how to distinguish between demands that can be carried out at present and those that, at present, would be like trying to break down closed doors—not open doors, but closed doors. Anyone who truly wants to achieve something in life does not set up abstract, distant ideals against which they will either break their neck or bruise their forehead, but rather always tries to be in harmony with life. Then, to illustrate what is possible in the present, one can also draw upon what is to come in the future. For what I have just said can only be a demand for a distant future. But we can sense the dignity that should be accorded to teachers in particular within social life. And it is important to me that we illustrate this dignity through something like what I have just described. And if the teacher has, as it were, the support of what I have just indicated, then within the natural authority that should prevail in the school, love will also manifest itself as a true awakening, step by step. Things sometimes have their origin in something quite different from what one might suppose.

[ 17 ] And just as love of God has its roots in gratitude, so, in turn, true moral impulsiveness has its origin in love, as I have just indicated. For nothing else constitutes true ethical virtue. True ethical virtue is founded solely on love of humanity. This love of humanity—which prevents us from passing each other by without really knowing one another, as is so often the case today, because we no longer have an eye for the individual qualities of our neighbor—this universal love of humanity, which is based on human understanding, awakens between the loss of baby teeth and puberty, just as gratitude grows between birth and the loss of baby teeth. We must do everything we can in school to awaken this universal love for humanity.

[ 18 ] What, then, happens in the child’s environment during the first stage of life, up until the child’s teeth begin to fall out? People do things in the child’s environment. But what the child takes in from people’s actions is not the actions themselves. The child does not yet have the capacity to perceive people’s actions. Rather, everything the child perceives in its environment consists of meaningful gestures. In the first stage of life, we are indeed dealing with an understanding of meaningful gestures. And the child imitates these meaningful gestures. From the perception of these meaningful gestures, a sense of gratitude develops, and from this sense of gratitude, the will to be grateful.

[ 19 ] Even the child from the time of tooth replacement until puberty—especially in the early years—does not yet perceive actions in its environment; rather, everything it perceives—even what the people around it do through their movements and other actions—is, for the second stage of life from tooth replacement to puberty, no longer merely a sum of meaningful gestures, but a meaningful language. For the child from the change of teeth to puberty, what is done in their environment—not just what is spoken—is also a meaningful language. It is not so much what the adult says that is important to the child.

[ 20 ] When the teacher writes on the board

[ 21 ] or when the teacher writes...

[ 22 ] That really is a huge difference. Whether the teacher writes it this way:

[ 23 ] or

[ 24 ] whether he renders the number seven and the word artistically, philistinely, or even sloppily—that makes a world of difference.

[ 25 ] But what is at work in it is what it means in human life. Whether writing “Blatt” or writing it this way (see above), it is all a meaningful language. And it is also a meaningful language whether the teacher enters the classroom in a dignified, respectable manner or whether he struts in—as they say in a certain dialect. And it is a language of meaning whether the teacher is always level-headed during class—so that this conveys to the child the message: he always reaches for the right object—or whether it happens that, when he leaves in the winter, he ties the towel he used to wipe the blackboard around his neck instead of his scarf. But these things do not act as actions; these things act as meaning. And they act through their meaning, both in their bad, unattractive ways and in their endearing ways. One must simply be clear that the value of the action does not yet lie in all of this, but rather the value of meaning.

[ 26 ] Even actions that might otherwise seem somewhat ridiculous when considered on their own can be endearing. For example, I had a teacher from the age of 13 to 18—I consider him my very best teacher—who never began a lesson without quietly blowing his nose. One would have missed it terribly if he hadn’t done so even once. Now, I’m not saying it was necessary for the teacher to have thought of that and done it; rather, these are truly the kinds of things where one should ask whether it’s necessary for the person in question to break the habit if it’s instinctively ingrained in him. That’s something entirely different.

[ 27 ] I mentioned that, too, merely by way of illustration. For the point is that everything the teacher does in front of the child during this stage of life is a meaningful form of communication—that through all of this, the teacher is speaking to the child. What the teacher says in words is only a part of what he communicates to the child. There are, however, an immense number of unconscious factors at play here, which lie deep within the child’s emotional life. For example, the child has an extraordinarily subtle sense—which it does not bring to consciousness through intellectual concepts—of whether the teacher is being a bit flirtatious with this or that student during class or whether the teacher is a person who behaves quite naturally. This makes an enormous difference for the child in the classroom. And as I’ve already hinted at in the discussion: it makes an enormous difference to the child whether the teacher is prepared enough to be able to do without the book or the workbook. For the child’s unconscious says to itself, when the teacher stands there teaching with the book or workbook in hand: Why should I actually know this, since he doesn’t know it himself! After all, the teacher is a human being too! He is a fully formed human being, while we are still becoming human beings, and yet we are expected to strive to know what he himself does not know! This is something that lies incredibly deep in the child’s unconscious and cannot be rectified once it has taken root there. And that is precisely why we can only develop that subtle, unpretentious approach toward children of this age if we—and I must admit this sounds pedantic—if we prepare ourselves properly, prepare for everything in such a way that we have the material completely mastered, that it lives within us as smoothly as possible, if I may put it that way, but not “well-oiled” in the sense of smearing with ink, but rather “well-oiled” in the sense of the oil that keeps a machine running smoothly. Then one is truly present in the classroom, and one behaves appropriately within the classroom. And only then is one in a position to ensure that the children do not even have the slightest inclination to become insolent. For that is actually the most dreadful thing—when 10-, 11-, or 12-year-olds already start showing a tendency to be cheeky toward you. Therefore, nothing we say ourselves—not even when we’re being humorous—should contain anything that provokes cheekiness. Otherwise, it can of course happen that, for example, if you say to a student who isn’t trying hard enough and is stuck on a problem—“Here stands the ox on the mountain”—the boy might reply, “Teacher, I’m not a mountain!”—Of course, it must not come to that. Instead, through all the preparations I’ve spoken of, a sense of authority must develop as something entirely natural. Only when it is a matter of course will such responses—which, of course, can be milder; I have cited these merely by way of illustration—fail to arise. Such responses not only spoil the particular student in question, whom one has directly before one, but they naturally spoil the entire class as well.

[ 28 ] When the transition from the second stage of life to the third takes place, only then does the possibility arise—well, how would one put it today?—for the young gentleman and the young lady to perceive actions. Before that, one perceives meaningful gestures; later, one hears meaningful speech; only now does the possibility arise to perceive actions in what those around them do. I said: Through meaningful gestures, love for God develops alongside gratitude. From the perception of meaningful language, universal love for humanity develops as the foundation of ethics. If one then arrives in the right way at the ability to perceive actions, what one might call love of work develops. While gratitude must grow and love must awaken, what is now developing must already manifest itself with full self-control; we must have guided the young person to the point where, having passed the stage of sexual maturity, they develop with full self-mastery, so that they have, as it were, come into their own; then love of work develops. And this must, as it were, develop as something arising freely from within the person, on the foundation of everything else: love of work, love of labor, love for what one does oneself. At the very moment when an understanding of another’s actions awakens, at that very moment the conscious attitude toward a love of work, a love of labor, and a love of doing must develop as its counterpart. Then, in the proper way following the Intermediate Epoch, childlike play will have been transformed into the human conception of work. And that is what we must strive for in social life.

[ 29 ] What, then, is required of the teacher? Indeed, it requires something of the teacher that is, in essence, the most difficult thing one can develop as a teacher and educator. For the best thing one can give a child during the first and second stages of life is what awakens within them of its own accord with sexual maturity—something that surprises one as arising from the child’s own individuality, something that comes from within the child themselves, and in the face of which one says to oneself: “You were really just a tool for this.” - Without the attitude that bubbles up from this, one cannot truly be a teacher. For one is faced with the most diverse individualities, and one must not stand with both feet firmly planted in the classroom in such a way that one feels: “Everyone you teach or educate must now become just like you.” One must never have this feeling. Why not? Well, if luck happens to be on your side, among the students you have in front of you—alongside the exceptionally dull ones, whom we’ll discuss later—there might be three or four children with a genius-like disposition. And surely you’ll agree with me that one cannot make only geniuses into teachers, and that it will in fact not be uncommon for the teacher to lack the genius that those he may have to educate and teach will one day possess. But the teacher must not only properly educate and teach those who can become like him; he must also properly educate and teach those who, according to their aptitudes, are destined to far surpass him. But this will only be possible if, as a teacher, one completely breaks the habit of wanting to mold students into what one is oneself. And if one can resolve to stand in the classroom selflessly to the utmost extent possible—to set aside, as far as possible, one’s human sympathies and antipathies, as well as one’s personal characteristics—and to devote oneself entirely to what the students are saying—what they say, of course, unconsciously—then one will educate the geniuses correctly in the same sense as one will educate the less gifted. But it is precisely through this process that the proper awareness arises in the teacher. And the teacher possesses this awareness when he tells himself: Every form of education is, at its core, a form of self-education.

[ 30 ] Essentially, there is no form of education at any stage other than self-education. For deeper reasons, this is particularly recognized by anthroposophy, which has a truly scientific understanding of repeated earthly lives. All education is self-education, and as teachers and educators, we are really only the environment surrounding the child who is educating itself. We must provide the most favorable environment so that the child can educate itself through us in the way that its inner destiny requires.

[ 31 ] This proper attitude of the educator and teacher toward the child can be achieved by nothing other than the ever-increasing cultivation of the awareness that this is indeed the case. For people in general, there may be various prayers; for the teacher, there is also this prayer: “Dear God, grant that I may completely set aside my personal ambitions.” And: “Christ, make the Pauline saying especially true for me: ‘Not I, but Christ in me.’” - As I said, there may be various prayers for other people, but for the teacher there is precisely this prayer to God in general and to Christ in particular, so that the true Holy Spirit of genuine education and genuine teaching may reign within him. For this is the true Trinity for the teacher.

[ 32 ] If one succeeds in thinking in this way within the child’s environment, then what is to emerge from the child’s upbringing can at the same time be a social act. Of course, there are factors to consider here that I can only touch upon briefly. But just take a look at this: From what do people expect social improvement to come in today’s world? They expect everything from external institutions. Look at the terrible experiment in Soviet Russia. It boils down to seeking all of humanity’s happiness as the result of external institutions. People believe that what matters for social development is what kind of institutions one should create. But that is precisely the least essential aspect of social development. For you can create institutions—whatever they may be, monarchical, republican, democratic, or socialist—but it will always depend on the kind of people who live and work within these institutions. For the person who acts socially, two things are essential: loving devotion to one’s own actions and an understanding response to the actions of others.

[ 33 ] Think for a moment about what flows from these two things: loving devotion to one’s own actions, and understanding acceptance of the actions of others. The fact that people can cooperate socially follows solely from this. But you can pass this down for eons: you will not bring it about through any external means; you must draw it forth from the depths of human nature. For if you wish to establish external institutions—even with the best of intentions—you yourself may create such institutions and demand actions from the individual that he cannot bring himself to perform; and, in turn, the other person may exhibit actions for which one cannot show understanding and acceptance. But institutions come from people—you can see everywhere in people how institutions arise from them—and they arise from that aspect of human nature which, to a greater or lesser extent, consists of loving devotion to one’s own actions and an understanding response to the actions of others.

[ 34 ] If one has a proper understanding of this social ferment, then one will realize how, due to a lack of this proper understanding, the strangest views have arisen, particularly with regard to social issues. Just think about it for a moment—to give an example, I would like to say this: Today, millions of people—not thousands, but millions—are being indoctrinated with what so-called Marxism teaches about the nature of labor and the relationship of labor to social life. And if you examine how the person who supposedly discovered this arrived at what is now being drummed into millions of people—what millions of people today cling to as a social gospel, and on the basis of which they agitate—you will see that it rests on a fundamental error in the conception of human social life. For Karl Marx seeks to situate labor within the social sphere in such a way that he evaluates it based on what a person expends within themselves through what they experience in their work during working hours. But this leads to utter absurdity. For what goes on within a person is exactly the same, whether I have chopped a certain amount of wood over a certain period of time or whether—because I do not need to chop wood—I use a wheel specially designed for this purpose in such a way that I spare myself all other work by standing on one of its spokes as if on a step and pressing it down, then onto the next spoke, and so on, jumping from spoke to spoke. The same result will be produced within me as if I were chopping the corresponding amount of wood. Karl Marx’s argument follows the same line of reasoning. But chopping wood is something I place within the entire process of humanity. Stepping on the spokes of the wheel, on the other hand—such a wheel is, after all, specifically designed for people who are putting on weight—has no social benefit; rather, it has only a health benefit for the person using it. But what, according to Karl Marx, is supposed to measure the value of labor is human internal consumption of food. It is simply absurd to apply this method of calculation from an economic perspective. And so all manner of approaches were taken, yet only one was not considered in its full significance: loving devotion to one’s own actions, and understanding consideration for the actions of others.

[ 35 ] But we must ensure that we behave in the child’s environment in such a way that, as the child reaches sexual maturity, they become fully aware of what is contained in these two social principles. To do this, we must fully understand what it means to stand beside the child in such a way that the child engages in the best form of self-education while with us.