The Rudolf Steiner Archive

Eighth Lecture

[ 1 ] To round out, so to speak, what could only be said in very sketchy terms over these few days regarding the pedagogy and didactics emerging from anthroposophical research, I would like to add something today about the way in which the Waldorf School is run as an example in the spirit of these ideas, and how they are put into practice. Above all, it must be evident from the entire spirit of the pedagogy and didactics represented here how the physical, emotional, and spiritual aspects are taken into account in a balanced way, so that teaching and education—when carried out as described—truly become a kind of hygiene for the child’s life and, when necessary, even a form of therapy for that life.

[ 2 ] But in order to understand this, one must be able to observe the child’s being in the right way. We must be clear that everything we have described regarding the child’s development up to the change of teeth is expressed in the child’s life primarily through the nervous-sensory system. Now, every organ system in the human body is distributed throughout the entire body, but at the same time, each such system is, for the most part, localized to a specific side of the body. And so the nervous system is organized primarily toward the head. Therefore, when we speak here of the three principal organ systems of the human being—the nervous-sensory system, the rhythmic system, and the nutritive-locomotor system—no one should assume that we mean the head system, the chest system, the limb system, the digestive system, or anything of the sort. That would be entirely wrong. Human beings cannot be divided in such a spatial manner; rather, one can only say: these three systems interpenetrate one another and interact throughout the entire body. However, the nervous-sensory system is primarily localized in the head; the rhythmic system—which, after all, encompasses everything in the human being that is rhythmic and proceeds rhythmically—is primarily organized in the chest organs, namely the respiratory and circulatory organs. But you see, the human rhythmic system also includes everything that promotes the rhythm of digestion, and ultimately the rhythm of sleeping and waking, insofar as digestion, sleeping, and waking are rooted in the human organism. And in turn, the actual chemical-physiological process of digestion is intimately connected with everything that constitutes the human musculoskeletal system. And movement, on the one hand, contributes to the proper functioning of the nutritional and digestive systems, and vice versa. So one must say: during childhood up to the time of tooth replacement, all three systems naturally interact with one another; but what is plastically organizing in the child—what is at work in the child as it grows and nourishes itself—originates primarily in the head, in the sensory-nervous system. And when a child falls ill, all illnesses essentially stem from influences of the sensory-nervous system. That is why these young children, up until the time of tooth replacement, are particularly susceptible to these illnesses originating from within—what are commonly called “childhood illnesses.”

[ 3 ] These childhood illnesses are influenced—more than even doctors today, in this materialistic age, realize—in an extraordinarily powerful way by the imitative forces coming from the child’s environment. Thus, in some cases of measles in children, one must certainly attribute the sudden, irascible outbursts of rage to the child’s environment. I do not mean a fit of madness, but rather a mild outburst of rage, such as occurs so frequently among people. That shock, which is simultaneously imbued with moral and spiritual elements in the child, must certainly be counted among the causes of the illness. And everything that influences a child’s development up to the time of tooth replacement continues to have an effect almost until the age of 9. So if, for example, it happens at school that the teacher or educator becomes very angry and, in my opinion, starts ranting terribly when a child spills just a little ink—and then perhaps takes the inkwell out of the desk and says: “If you do that one more time, I’ll pour the whole inkwell over your head or throw it at your head!”—this is, of course, a very extreme example, but things of this sort happen all the time—if this happens in such a way, then we should not be surprised if, at the same time, we are also having an extraordinarily adverse effect on the child’s physical health.

[ 4 ] Likewise, the inner insincerity of teachers and educators has an immensely strong effect on children, even beyond the stage of losing their baby teeth. This inner insincerity can also take the form, for example, of being a hypocritical devout person, or of imposing moral rules on the child that one does not even think to follow oneself. Thus, a falsehood weaves its way into and lives on in our words and in the behavior we display before the child. We can say of the adult: He does not notice this. The child, however, picks up on this through gestures. And this inner dishonesty and insincerity, acting indirectly through the nervous-sensory system, has an immensely strong effect on the organization of the child’s digestive system, particularly on the development of the gallbladder. And this development of the gallbladder is then of immense importance for the child’s entire life.

[ 5 ] This insight into the interplay of spirit, soul, and body—this is what must continually, even if not constantly spoken of, permeate the actions of the teacher and educator through intense contemplation. And because the human organism is so heavily engaged in activity originating from the head and the nervous-sensory system during childhood—and because the so-called “abnormal” can so easily take the place of the “normal” when originating from the head—it is precisely this childhood stage that is so extraordinarily susceptible to childhood illnesses.

[ 6 ] When the child is between the stages of tooth replacement and sexual maturity, this is—strangely enough—due to the nature of the human organism itself—though in a way that is entirely understandable to those who have insight into human life—the healthiest stage of life, because at this stage the entire organism radiates from the rhythmic system, which never tires and is never overstimulated by its own inner nature. Any symptoms of illness that arise at this stage of life—which, of course, should not be viewed in strictly defined terms but rather in accordance with life and reality—definitely originate from external influences: If a person is particularly susceptible to illness at this stage of life, when the rhythmic system plays a primary role, it is because they have not been properly treated from the outside.

[ 7 ] And then, once sexual maturity has passed, illness also radiates from within, originating in the musculoskeletal and digestive systems. As human beings, we become so vulnerable to illness that the causes of disease arise from within. Because so much of what affects a child’s physical constitution is involved in the practice of education and instruction, we must always, so to speak, carry—or allow to be carried—physical and mental hygiene on the wings of what we hold as educational and instructional principles for this second stage of a child’s life. It must always be an integral part of what we do.

[ 8 ] You see, one can also point out specific details here. Take, for example, a child with a melancholic temperament. You will see how consuming sugar affects this child in a completely different way than it does a child with a sanguine temperament. If you introduce sugar—in the proper dosage, of course—to a melancholic child, that sugar has a suppressing effect on liver activity; and what then radiates from the liver activity—what permeates the whole person from this liver activity that is now becoming increasingly restrained—counteracts the melancholic temperament from the physical side. It is an external support, but one must be aware of this external support. One does not deny the spiritual-soul aspect when one knows that these external supports exist. For anyone who, as is the case in the field of anthroposophy, knows that the spiritual is at work in all that is physical, sees in the specific action that sugar performs in relation to the liver not merely something physical, but rather a spiritual -psychic effect that is only influenced in a physical way when we give—or have given—sugar to the melancholic child in the correct dosage. For the sanguine child, on the other hand, it may be beneficial to stimulate the liver, and this occurs when sugar is withheld from the child.

[ 9 ] And so, when one understands this entire interplay of body, soul, and spirit, one can have an immensely beneficial effect on the three aspects of the human being. So it must be said: While it is widely believed today that a pedagogy based on spiritual principles pays too little attention to the physical, this is certainly not the case with the pedagogy referred to here. For the pedagogy that pays the least attention to the physical is precisely that which seeks to impose abstract rules directly upon the physical, because this pedagogy does not understand how every stirring of the soul and spirit affects the physical body, especially during childhood.

[ 10 ] Because all of this is true, it was necessary that, before we began running the Waldorf School, I hold a seminar course for those who at that time wanted to become—or were expected to become—Waldorf school teachers. This seminar course was designed primarily to introduce into pedagogy this comprehensive concept of the interplay between soul, body, and spirit. After all, this concept had gradually been phased out—more so than people realize—from the pedagogy of the 19th and 20th centuries.

[ 11 ] Later on, as the Waldorf School continued to operate, smaller supplementary courses were held that added to what the first foundational course had provided. And it is actually self-evident to anyone who wishes to take on Waldorf school teaching in any way that they must, above all, immerse themselves fully—not so much in the details presented in these courses, but in the spirit that is meant there and from which the details are addressed. For when one approaches a subject with vitality, the details matter far less than the overall spirit that internally connects the details in one context or another. You will have seen, particularly in lectures such as those given here by Dr. von Baravalle and Dr. von Heydebrand, how individual teachers have sought to incorporate the spirit of this pedagogy into their approach to the various subjects. The entire approach to the subjects is then permeated, as if by a kind of lifeblood, by this spirit of unity in human organization. Of course, in this regard as well, much of what I can say today must remain only in outline form.

[ 12 ] I already hinted yesterday that the most essential prerequisites for the proper management of such a school lie in the fact that the teaching staff acts as the soul and spirit—but in a unified manner—on the entire school organism. And above all, one of the key pedagogical impulses is that teachers’ conferences should not merely produce a statistical record of what individual teachers have observed, but that a living, individualized psychology—arising from the very process of teaching—should develop within the framework of these conferences. I would like to mention just one example. We have boys and girls sitting side by side in the classes. Initially, the Waldorf School had a student body that did not exceed a hundred by much, but it has grown to the point where we had 700 students last school year. This growth in student numbers made it necessary to establish parallel classes, especially for all the lower grades. Now we have classes in which there are more girls than boys, and also those where the opposite is true; it is rare for the numbers to be roughly equal. It would, of course, be pedantic to decree that there must be an equal number of girls and boys. First, this is not feasible because schoolchildren are simply not enrolled in school that way; second, such a rigid approach would also seem out of touch with reality. We must therefore ensure that school administrators are able, under all circumstances, to apply what they consider to be the right approach. But it is quite evident that a class with more girls is a completely different psychological entity than a class with more boys than girls. In this regard, one can entirely disregard external circumstances that arise—that is, what takes place on a grossly observable level. Rather, what makes such a class a distinct psychological entity are the intangible impulses at work there—impulses that are not at all grossly perceptible on the surface. And it is precisely in teachers’ conferences that we have the opportunity to work in this direction as well. And here we must be clear about just how organically inspiring this effect is if we wish the school to be an organically inspired institution.

[ 13 ] Just think for a moment: what if a person were to say at some point in their life: “I want to think only of what will truly serve me later in life; I don’t want to let any mental images into my soul that won’t serve me later in life, because it’s completely wasteful to let in mental images other than those that serve you in life; so I’ll limit myself to such mental images.” Yes, such a person would become a terrible creature in life! For, first of all, he would have nothing to dream about; he would never be able to dream. But—one might also say, if one is sufficiently philistine in disposition—dreaming doesn’t really matter; one can do without dreams, for they mean nothing in external reality! They mean nothing to those who perceive this reality only in an external way. Yes, if only dreams were truly meant to be nothing more than fantastical constructs. Of course, the person who sees something profoundly spiritual, something deeply prophetic—something worth more than external reality—in every trivial dream arising from the liver, gallbladder, and stomach gains nothing from dreams. But the one who knows that the forces—whether health-promoting or disease-causing—are expressed only in an indistinct way in the information of dreams, the dreams themselves, through the respiratory, circulatory, and nervous systems—which are the forces that make us healthy or sick—he knows that these dreams reflect half of the human being in a hygienic-pathological sense, and that not having dreams is roughly equivalent to having one’s digestion and circulation undermined by some poison. One must be clear about this: In human beings, many things must apparently be unnecessary for all external life, just as there is much that is unnecessary in nature itself. For just compare the number of herring eggs laid in the sea with what ultimately emerges from them! One might accuse nature of being wasteful, since so much is lost that the eggs should actually be spared. But one can only say this because one does not know how powerful the spiritual effects of the lost herring eggs are on the developing ones. A certain number of eggs must be lost so that a certain number of eggs can thrive. These things are interconnected.

[ 14 ] Now, when applied to the school as an organism, this manifests itself as follows: In faculty meetings, the psychological and pneumatological aspects—as a science of the soul and spirit—are addressed in relation to what arises from factors such as the number of boys and girls, and from many, many other factors. There, work is continuously underway to develop a psychology—and indeed a pathology—of the entire school. And in order for this to encompass the whole person, the school must include something like what we have in the Waldorf school: that among the teaching staff there is a school physician who also teaches classes from time to time. So that within the teaching staff—provided everyone works together in the faculty meetings—the pathological-therapeutic element, which lives in the children at school just as much as the element of talent and the element of genius, is not merely discussed continuously in a statistical manner for individual cases, but is actually processed. So that an immense amount can be learned from every single case—knowledge that may not be immediately applicable, much like what a person takes in and claims they do not need in life. Yet they do need it. And what one internalizes there—in terms of living psychology, living physiology, and so on—continues to have an effect in entirely different areas. You mustn’t overlook this: Once you—forgive the expression, it’s entirely justified—have learned about the child’s mental bile functions and have managed to get into that way of thinking at all, then the next time you find yourself in a situation where you can’t apply what you’ve learned about the mental bile functions—because you’re now dealing with the nose— You might say: “Why do I need to learn about the gallbladder when I’m now dealing with the nose?”—but you’ll approach what becomes apparent about the nose in a completely different way once you’ve managed to find your way into this subject at all, even if only in a small way. So the point is that, in the true sense, the teachers’ conference should become the spirit and soul of the entire school organism; only then will each teacher enter the classroom with the right attitude and the right state of mind.

[ 15 ] And one must certainly take into account that it is precisely in these matters that the most intense religious element lies. One does not always need to have the words “Lord, Lord” on one’s lips—or to infuse everything with the name of Christ—but one can heed the commandment: ‘You shall not take the name of the Lord your God in vain’—but one can infuse everything precisely with the fundamental religious impulse, and in the most intense way with the fundamental Christian impulse. Then one will come upon certain ancient experiences that modern intellectualism no longer comprehends, but which are deeply rooted in human development and Christian development. For example, anyone who wishes to be properly inspired by all the deep powers of the soul in order to shape pedagogy correctly in these pathological-physiological areas would do very well—though for modern people this is, of course, horribile dictu—to allow themselves to be inspired again and again by what radiates from the Gospel of Luke for such a mindset. Whereas those who wish to be inspired to foster the necessary idealism of life in children would do well to draw inspiration from repeated readings of the Gospel of John. And whoever does not wish to raise their children to be cowards, but rather to be people who tackle life with vigor, should draw inspiration from the Gospel of Mark. And whoever wishes to raise children to be people who do not overlook things but perceive everything correctly should draw inspiration from the Gospel of Matthew. Such was the attitude toward the Gospels in times past. When people today read that the Gospel of Luke, for example, was understood as having a medical focus, they no longer understand what that means. But when they approach these matters from a pedagogical perspective in their daily lives, they begin to understand these things once again.

[ 16 ] Now, one can put it the way I just did. But one can also put it another way, and it is no less religious or Christian. What I have just said can also be expressed, for example, by developing, in a seminary course, insights into the four main human temperaments—the physical, emotional, and spiritual nature of the choleric, the melancholic, the sanguine, and the phlegmatic. One examines these four temperaments in detail and then goes on to describe how to deal with the four different temperaments in the classroom; for example, how it is beneficial to group the choleric students together in a corner of the classroom. This relieves the entire class management of much of what would otherwise be necessary in the form of admonitions. For the choleric types shove one another, and this is an extraordinarily effective educational measure that they take among themselves. Indeed, those who are shoved by the others—who are the very ones who actually wanted to be shoved by them—are thereby educated in a marvelous way. And if you let the phlegmatic children act phlegmatically toward one another, this has a tremendously educational effect. But all of this must be done with the necessary tact. One must understand how to handle this in detail. — And so, in the first teacher training course I held for the Stuttgart Waldorf School, you will find a detailed discussion of temperamental characteristics in children.

[ 17 ] And so one could also say: What I have just said about the four Gospels is, in essence, exactly the same in spirit, because it introduces us to the same element of human life. Today, people have the feeling that they must juxtapose everything if they are to learn anything. Yes, but that approach will never lead one to a principle that can truly be applied in life. For example, no one can understand, say, the biliary system or the liver system in the human body without understanding the brain, because every organ of the digestive tract has a corresponding organ in the brain. One knows nothing at all about the liver unless one knows the correlate of liver function in the brain. Nor can one truly understand the immense inspiration the Gospels can impart to the human soul if, on the other hand, one does not know how to translate this into the way character and temperament are imprinted in human beings when they appear here on earth as physical human beings. To grasp the world in all its vitality is something entirely different from grasping it in lifeless concepts.

[ 18 ] And that is what then leads one to realize: By raising children in this way, one nurtures something that is not merely meant for childhood, but that continues to have an impact far into the future. For you see, when you grow old, what must you do? Anyone who does not understand the human being cannot properly grasp what it actually means that, as a child, during the age when certain impulses are imprinted solely upon the human being, I acquired certain impulses. Back then, I could only immerse these impulses in the soft, pliable, supple, and malleable—musically receptive—childlike organism that I still possessed. In later life, I have a body that has grown harder—not physically, mind you, but one that is becoming sclerotic in both soul and body. Yes, that part of me that has been shaped—that never grows old at all! It is not true that it grows old. No matter how old one may have become, one is inwardly endowed with exactly the same childlike nature with which one was endowed, let’s say, between the ages of 10 and 15. One always carries that within oneself. But this must be so flexible and malleable that it now also makes use of this aged brain—which is already perched atop a bald skull—just as it once made use of the soft brain. And if one is not raised in this way, then precisely that immense contrast arises that can be observed today between old age and youth—a contrast that is often regarded as so unbridgeable. People sometimes say the opposite of what is actually true. For often people say: “Yes, today’s youth don’t understand old age because old age doesn’t understand how to be young with the youth.”—But that is not true at all. None of it is true. Rather, the youth expect old age to use its aged physicality in the right way. In old age, young people see something entirely different from what they themselves possess. Then, too, a natural reverence for old age sets in. Young people see that they can receive something from old age that they cannot obtain on their own—provided that old age knows how to treat the bald head just as correctly as it lives with the child’s full head of tousled hair. This must absolutely be present. We must educate people in such a way that they understand how to grow old. This is what ails humanity today: those who grow up childish and youthful do not recognize in older people individuals who have truly grown old, but rather, to young people today, older people have remained childish—exactly as they themselves are! Because of inadequate education, people today cannot make use of their aging bodies, so they remain childish. The term “childish” is, in fact, an extraordinarily apt choice: Over the course of life, one does not engage one’s entire organism, but works only with the head—the very part that a child or young person is supposed to use. So young people say: What do I need to learn from them! “They’re no further along than we are; they’re just as childish as we are.”—The issue is not that old age today lacks youthfulness, but that old age has remained far too childish. That is what causes the difficulties today. So, even with the very best of intentions, people often describe reality in terms of its opposite.

[ 19 ] All these things simply need to be properly understood; then pedagogy—forgive me for putting it this way—since it is currently turned upside down, will be set back on its feet. For that is what it needs: to be set back on its feet. In today’s intellectualistic age, it is indeed turned upside down.

[ 20 ] But that is precisely what makes Waldorf education so unique: that outward appearances really do not matter at all. Whether one achieves what is to be cultivated as emotional and spiritual content by attuning to the specific effect of each of the four Gospels, or brings about the same emotional elements by properly applying the doctrine of the four temperaments—that is not what matters; what matters is the spirit that governs what is being developed there. In the superficial way things are understood today, well, the situation is constantly such that—if, say, someone gets their hands on the fundamental Stuttgart Teachers’ Course and hears that it contains a great deal about dealing with children’s temperaments, but in a subsequent course the approach to the Gospels has been developed—well, then they simply have to learn the later material as well. Now, it is good to consider things from different angles. But one must also be aware that the different presentations—that is, the presentation given earlier and the one given later—are in harmony, even though they contain different words and phrases. However, this agreement is an uncomfortable one, because in such a view, things are in mutual interaction, not merely in a one-sided causal relationship.

[ 21 ] And so you can take the teachers’ course—which Mr. Steffen has rendered in such a commendable way, in his exquisite artistic style—that was held at the Goetheanum when a number of English friends were here, and compare it with what has now been said time and again in this course in a pedagogical and didactic manner, albeit in slightly different ways: it is the same thing, just as, for example, the head and the stomach are part of the same organism. But the inconvenient part is that, as a result, everything is in interaction, and so one cannot say: “I have already understood the teachers’ course that was printed here, so if the later one is the same, I no longer need to read the later one.” - Yes, but you see, if you have both, you also understand the earlier one in a different way through this interplay. And one can say: Anyone who has absorbed a later course in a seminar setting will only truly understand the earlier one, because everything is interconnected. In mathematics, there is a purely causal sequence in terms of comprehension; there, one can understand the earlier material quite well without the later one. In something like living pedagogy, however, there is interaction; there, the earlier material is illuminated by the later one.

[ 22 ] I am sharing this description with you because it must also be the living spirit that permeates the entire educational philosophy of the Waldorf School. One must always strive to understand a matter from every possible angle and never be satisfied with having understood it from only one perspective. As a Waldorf school teacher, one must always be much more aware of the fact that “Actually, you still have to learn everything yourself”—rather than thinking, “Actually, you’re a terribly clever fellow.”—The latter comes almost never so easily once one has truly immersed oneself in Waldorf pedagogy. For a true Waldorf teacher, everything that comes from this perspective must spring from a warm, emotional place—from true self-confidence, which is one and the same with true trust in God. When a person knows that the divine forces are at work within them, they will have—quite apart from what they have more or less learned externally—an inner, living source that lies deep within the human being. One is only at the beginning of the path when one has self-confidence acquired from external sources. One is only where one ought to be when self-confidence has led one to trust in God, has led one to feel in the right way: It is not I, but Christ within me who is the active force. Then, however, self-confidence simultaneously becomes self-humility, because one knows that one reflects the divine-Christian forces in what one carries within the soul. This spirit must be present throughout the school’s administration. If this spirit is not present, this school would be like an external organism from which the blood has been drained or the breath blocked. It is precisely this spirit that matters. And when this spirit is alive, then—quite independently of the personalities of the teacher or teachers—enthusiasm will arise from this spirit itself. Then one will also be able to have confidence that something of the objective spirit lives throughout the entire school—which is not the same as the individual spirit of a single teacher. But this, in turn, can only gradually take shape through careful nurturing in the faculty’s collegial meetings.

[ 23 ] Well, it is from such materials that what we call “block teaching” at our Waldorf school has been developed. This block teaching consists of not constantly distracting the child by teaching geography from 8:00 to 8:45 a.m., something completely different—perhaps Latin—from 8:45 to 9:30 a.m., and then, say, mathematics and arithmetic from 9:30 to 10:30 a.m., or something similar; but rather that the main lesson each day is structured so that—depending on what is necessary for the individual subjects—during the first part of the day, for 3 to 4 weeks—the duration must, of course, be determined by the circumstances and the content of the lesson—the same subject is always covered. So, for example, over the course of 3 to 4 weeks—throughout a single “epoch”—geography is taught in a necessary, if I may say so, manner that is not rigid but rather serious yet relaxed; in the next “epoch,” a lesson is then taught that builds upon this geography instruction, and so on. One will, however, find that this block-based instruction—which is structured so that the material intended for a given grade is covered in blocks over the course of the year— one feels that conducting lessons and providing education under such conditions is somewhat more difficult than usual; for it is easier for a teacher to become boring when teaching geography for such a long stretch at a time than when teaching geography for only three-quarters of an hour. And one must also be fully immersed in the subject matter in a completely different way if one wishes to teach in this manner.

[ 24 ] We generally follow up these core classes with language instruction after 10 a.m., once the children have had their necessary break, as well as other subjects that are not considered part of the core curriculum. As for language instruction at the Waldorf School, our approach is such that even the youngest children begin studying two non-German languages from the very moment they enter elementary school. We teach the children French and English using the method we consider to be the correct one and in the manner that is appropriate for these subjects. But what matters most is that these subjects not only broaden their external horizons, but also that the richness of their inner life—especially their spiritual life—is significantly fostered through this language instruction.

[ 25 ] Now—as you can gather from what was said yesterday—in the administration of such a school, physical aspects, especially as they are cultivated in eurythmy and gymnastics, are not given any less consideration; rather, they are taken into account in such a way that they can truly become an integral part of the whole. And from the very beginning, the curriculum is also permeated—in a manner appropriate to the students’ age—with the musical element.

[ 26 ] It has indeed been hinted at—in the sketchy manner that was, unfortunately, necessary—how children are introduced to the arts through singing, music, sculpture, and so on. These elements must definitely be present. It must be recognized in a practical way—that is, through actual implementation—what it means for a person when they are guided musically in the right way through the—if I may say so—earlier stages of life, that is, between the loss of baby teeth and puberty—through the ages up to 9, 12, and so on. This proper musical introduction lays the foundation for removing all the obstacles we encounter later in life to the courageous, meaningful unfolding of our will. The way in which music interacts with the organism is such that it instills precisely the right approach— one might say, the way in which nervous fluctuations influence the flow of respiration, how this in turn affects the function of the nervous system, how the respiratory rhythms then influence the circulatory rhythms, and how the circulatory rhythm influences the rhythm of sleep and wakefulness. This is, in fact, one of the most wondrous things: that it is precisely through anthroposophical research that one can come to understand how music is intrinsically creative within the human being. One learns to recognize how, in the outflow of nerves from the medulla oblongata, from the entire spinal cord system—how in this extension of the nerves there lies an incredibly delicate musical instrument. And one comes to recognize that it withers and hardens, rendering the whole human being inwardly incapable of properly developing courage, if musical instruction and musical education do not cater to this wonderfully delicate musical instrument. It is indeed a delicate musical instrument that unfolds in the interplay between the nerve-sense organs with their functions and the human being’s motor functions, in connection with the rhythm of digestion and the rhythm of sleeping and waking. The higher self seeks to play upon the lower self. And through the organization of the entire human organism toward the musical, one comes to harmonize with what is heard during music lessons on the piano and what the children sing—harmonizing with what is inwardly perceptible within the nervous-circulatory system as a divine plan of creation. This is one of the most wondrous things, for in every music lesson a divine-spiritual element—which seems to rise up into the child’s body—meets with that which emanates from the earth. In what we as the whole of humanity have developed in musical culture, earth and heaven truly meet; one must be aware of this. And being aware of this—knowing that as a teacher one does this not by theorizing about it at length, but by allowing the genius of heaven to meet the genius of earth within the human breast—is what provides the enthusiasm needed for the class. It also provides the enthusiasm that one then carries into the teachers’ conferences, through which the music teacher inspires the art teacher, and so on. One must simply recognize how the spirit must be at work in everything—in pedagogy and didactics, as they are understood here.

[ 27 ] For example, we recently held a teachers’ conference during which we were actually able, to a large extent, to elucidate the entire process by which the spiritual, soul, and physical aspects of the human being interact when a child is introduced to eurythmy exercises and then transitions to physical education. This overview of the relationship between gymnastics and eurythmy—which is of such immense importance in the conduct of instruction—emerged for us recently at the teachers’ conference, and this will naturally continue. In this way, the teachers’ conferences become the living lifeblood that must flow through the “school” as an organism. Then everything else will follow naturally, as long as one does not resist it. Then one also learns to go for walks and take field trips with the children at the right time. Then physical education will naturally flow into that phase of human life that is already appropriate for the individual child in any given school. Then the concern will not arise: “Yes, all of this may be excellent at the Waldorf school, but there isn’t enough physical activity.” Well, first of all, not everything that might be desirable can be done today, because the Waldorf school has also developed from humble beginnings. The fact that we have even reached what we have today required overcoming immense external difficulties. But in spirit, those things that are drawn forth from the spirit certainly also contribute to the proper handling of the physical-spiritual aspect. So one must say: Just as I, in order to raise my arm, do not need to learn how the individual larger and smaller muscles of my arm function according to the laws of dynamics and statics, perhaps vitalism, and so on—I also do not need to know in detail all the subtleties of how this or that is driven, as long as I am able to approach the conduct of instruction with my whole spirit, which has then become a teaching and educational disposition—as long as I can enter right into the core in the proper way.

[ 28 ] Well, I was only able to give you a rough outline of the principles underlying the running of such a school, which is guided by the impulses of ideas flowing from anthroposophical research. And we have now—particularly due to your time constraints—reached the end of this course. So let me conclude by reiterating what I already took the liberty of saying during a discussion: Anyone who lives with their whole soul within the ideal that educational and instructional life must develop in this way for the benefit of human development must be filled with deep gratitude in their soul for the fact that the esteemed teachers who have come from afar to this course and have sought to learn about what is being attempted here in the fields of pedagogy and didactics based on anthroposophical research. So let me express to you, at the conclusion of this course, my deep gratitude and heartfelt satisfaction that—regardless of how one or the other may find this more or less appealing or unappealing—what is meant to influence the most diverse branches of life through anthroposophy, and what is meant to enrich life through anthroposophy, has once again been perceived by a number of souls. And these two thoughts will certainly linger, especially among those who were involved in the event: the fond memory of gratitude and the fond memory of the satisfaction I have just described. And the more these thoughts can take on greater inner intensity—these thoughts of a work grounded in such gratitude and such satisfaction—the more hope will arise that, little by little, what is intended to flow from this pedagogy for the overall development of humanity might indeed come to pass. And the loving work inherent in this educational approach will be able to arise all the more in those who are already working within it today with their whole humanity. Not only have the Waldorf school teachers and educators perhaps given you something—through what they sought to convey to you from their practical experience—but you, who were present as visitors, have certainly given just as much to the Waldorf teachers by kindling precisely that love that is needed—that natural love which, in truth, is the sole source of enthusiasm—when one sees that what lives within oneself also begins to live in the souls of others. And from this mutual interplay of gratitude and inner satisfaction, of hope and love—which have flowed into one another during this course—we may hope that beautiful fruits will ripen if we take the necessary interest in these things and feel the necessary inner activity to truly live within them.

[ 29 ] This, my esteemed audience and my dear friends, is what I would now like to convey in this farewell message, now that the course has come to an end. It is not meant to be just any abstract greeting, but a concrete one in which gratitude serves as the firm foundation, in which satisfaction is what can work as a warming force within, and in which hope is what radiates from this greeting as a source of courageous strength. May love, in the practice of what is to become “pedagogy for humanity” in this way, become the light that shines upon those whose duty it is to care for the education of humanity.

[ 30 ] With that in mind, now that we have come to the end of this course, I would like to extend my warmest farewell to you all.

FAQs

[ 31 ] Question: Is it possible to introduce the Waldorf school approach in other countries as well—for example, in Czechoslovakia?

[ 32 ] In principle, it is possible to introduce Waldorf education anywhere, because it is pure pedagogy, nothing but pedagogy. The essence of Waldorf education—in contrast to many other educational movements that exist today—is precisely that Waldorf education is purely pedagogical. Isn’t it true that today there are people who say: If you want to properly educate and teach a person, you have to send them to a rural boarding school; it won’t work in the city. One person demands these external conditions, another those. One says: “Boarding school is the right way to educate,” while another says: “Family upbringing is the right way.” All these considerations fall away in Waldorf education. I don’t want to argue against these things at all; they may have their merits from one perspective or another. But Waldorf pedagogy is, after all, pure pedagogy and can adapt to all external circumstances, whether it’s an urban school, a rural school, or anything else. It is simply not tailored to specific circumstances, but aims only to focus on the growing human being as such. So, Waldorf pedagogy could be introduced into any school. It is another matter, however, whether it will be allowed in—whether those in charge of these schools, or those who establish them, or who set their curricula, or the like, will agree to it. Waldorf education could be introduced into all schools around the world tomorrow, but whether it will be allowed in—that is the question. That must be answered from the perspective of each individual territory. —That is the only thing that can be said about it.

[ 33 ] On Recitation and Eurythmy.

[ 34 ] It is indeed a pity that Dr. Steiner, who trained the art of recitation here, is ill these days and was unable to perform the recitation herself. The point is that eurythmy itself compels us to return to the art of recitation and declamation that was practiced in eras with a greater artistic sensibility than our own. Our present age, after all, is not one with a particularly artistic sensibility and would not easily understand why Goethe himself rehearsed his iambic dramas with his actors like a conductor wielding a baton. In our age, recitation and declamation—which must be distinguished from one another in a very strict sense—place much greater emphasis on emphasizing the very content of the prose. At least one strong trend has existed since the 1890s that has actually pushed the artistic shaping of language itself further into the background and brought the prose content of the poem more to the forefront, whereas what really matters is seeing the essence in the imaginative shaping of sounds, but also, let’s say, in the structure of the stanzas or in the musical-thematic treatment, in rhythm, meter, and the melodious theme—which will always underlie everything—and to achieve, through the treatment of language at a higher level, what is achieved in prose through the mere content of the words. Indeed, the sense of the artistic nature of language has generally declined in recent times; even outward cultural phenomena make this clear. I do not believe that very many people know or have paid attention to what subject the famous Curtius taught at the University of Berlin. He lectured on art history and the like, but that was not the subject for which he was employed at the University of Berlin; rather, his title was “Professor of Eloquence”—he was actually employed to teach the art of oratory, to speak about the art of oratory. But people no longer had any appreciation for that; it was unnecessary for him to lecture on his own field, so he drifted into a different one. Such phenomena are common today. If we are to return to the art of recitation—which must be cultivated primarily for the more narrative forms or for the kind of poetry the Greeks, for example, practiced—for the art of recitation and the art of declamation, which is the art underlying older German poetry—then the necessary steps must once again be taken regarding the treatment of language. That is what matters. I do not know what exactly caught the questioner’s attention, but this is what matters to us: to achieve through the treatment of language what is achieved in prose through the content of the language itself.

[ 35 ] It is not through an emphasis on the content, nor through the prose meaning of the content, but through the manner in which sounds follow one another or through the use of rhyme and the like—in other words, it is precisely through form that one achieves what today is often achieved through prose-like emphasis. Recitation seeks primarily to adhere to a vivid yet measured style; thus, where it matters, it seeks to emphasize the lengthening and shortening of syllables—which can be particularly important in ballads. Declamation seeks to convey the essence through high and low tones and what follows from them. (It had occurred to the questioner that in the word “grüßen,” the syllable “grüs” was pronounced on the same note as the syllable “sen.”) This is not an artistic question, but merely a matter of interpretation. It depends entirely on whether the speaker places the primary stress on: “Say, I’ll have her send my regards,” or: “Say, I’ll have her send my regards.”

[ 36 ] Question: Doesn't this shift the emphasis of the rhyme?

[ 37 ] That could only be moved if the other syllables weren't adjusted accordingly. After all, that comes from the mood, not from the way the language is handled.

[ 38 ] Question: Doesn't this view express a certain regularity?

[ 39 ] No, the interpretation must remain free. It is entirely possible to artistically declaim or recite one and the same poem while incorporating a wide variety of interpretations, just as one incorporates a wide variety of interpretations when performing a piece of music. There is no single, definitive way to approach a poem; rather, what matters is the essence—that is, to reach a point where one no longer feels as though one is speaking by reciting or declaiming with the larynx, but rather speaking with the breath. What matters is truly developing the ability to shape the breath. That is what matters in recitation. In singing, one shapes the breath. The same principle must also apply to recitation, although naturally, in speech, the melody is already inherent in the sound. So the essential must indeed be brought into the treatment of the language itself, and not into the content. One must take into account that, with Schiller, for example, it was like this: for his most significant poems, he had a general melody in his soul; to that, he could write whatever text he wanted. One must strive to express the essence, on the one hand, through the musical aspect, and on the other hand, through the sculptural and pictorial qualities of language.

[ 40 ] Question: In the art of dance, dancers move in different ways. This is not the case with eurythmy; surely the movement itself is always the same?

[ 41 ] You wouldn’t say that if you saw eurythmy often. Let’s say, if you recite a poem and another person recites the same poem, there are still two different vocal ranges and so on. You can, of course, interpret the poem artistically in the same way. The artistic interpretation will be the same. Yet this difference is already very evident in eurythmy. You will nevertheless see the personal characteristics of the individual eurythmists. They are already unique. Eurythmy simply hasn’t advanced far enough yet for these particular individual styles to stand out. But that will be the case when eurythmy has progressed to the point where the eurythmist lives in complete harmony with their art; then the individual interpretation will also become noticeable. Certainly, a lawful movement always underlies it. It is just like speaking: If I want to say “Mund” (mouth), I must not say “Mond” (moon)—that is, I must not use an “o” instead of a “u.” The performer must therefore include a “u” at the appropriate place in the eurythmy, but within this regularity, the individual expression of the performer’s interpretation—offering the greatest potential for development—comes into its own. It is not something pedantic or stereotypical. You will also see that when a beginner performs something in eurythmy, or someone who has been practicing it for years, there is a great difference—not merely in skill, but also in artistry. And in the same way, the innate artistic talent comes to the fore, revealing whether someone has an artistic disposition or not. This becomes apparent in eurythmy more than in any other art form. Eurythmy is entirely rooted in the human organism. The human organism encompasses eurythmy in such a way that eurythmy, just like other arts—such as painting—is not grasped intellectually but is contained within consciousness, whereas dancing extends into the emotional realm. There, other difficulties can arise. After all, dancing is not something purely artistic. Eurythmy, however, is indeed an art.

[ 42 ] The participants had expressed a desire to found a school association with the goal of establishing a Waldorf school in Switzerland. However, the question also arose as to which was more important: rebuilding the Goetheanum or establishing a school. Doing both at the same time did not seem possible. Dr. Steiner was asked to comment on the reconstruction of the Goetheanum.

[ 43 ] Yes, the fact that the Goetheanum is to be rebuilt is, after all, something that goes without saying for the wider circles—not just for those in Switzerland, but for the wider circles of anthroposophists around the world. Over the years that it stood, the Goetheanum gradually came to be regarded as something that was meant to serve as a focal point for the entire anthroposophical movement. And there can be little doubt among the vast majority of anthroposophists around the world that the Goetheanum must be rebuilt. The only obstacles to rebuilding the Goetheanum could, in fact, come from the Swiss authorities. There can be no other obstacles. If the Swiss authorities of all kinds do not make it impossible for the Goetheanum to be rebuilt, then it will most certainly be rebuilt.

[ 44 ] On the other hand, even while the Goetheanum was still in existence, the need to establish at least a small training school here had already become apparent. For in fact, with regard to all the endeavors undertaken by anthroposophy—those that arise from the impulses of anthroposophy—it is always necessary that they be represented and then translated into practical application. As you know, various other endeavors have also emerged from anthroposophical work, such as those in the field of medicine. I mention this merely by way of explanation. I also had to say: If one is even considering practicing medicine on the basis of anthroposophical research, it is necessary for the individuals who devote themselves to this cause to be in constant, truly practical contact with sick people. That is why the clinics here in Arlesheim and in Stuttgart were established. I mention this merely as an example to show that we can only be truly serious about the various impulses arising from the anthroposophical movement—whatever direction they may take—to the extent that these institutions emerge of their own accord as a necessity. And so, with this small teacher-training school—which is directly affiliated with the Goetheanum and continues to operate—we have done the one and only thing that was possible. In fact, we even began this school because, out of a certainly well-founded conviction, a number of parents would have gladly entrusted their younger children to us for this school, where they would then have been taught according to the Waldorf method. But these children were taken from us by the authorities. These children simply had to be subjected to the compulsory education law. As a result, we were not in a position in Switzerland to establish anything even on a small scale similar to what was still possible in Stuttgart at the time the Waldorf School was founded, thanks to a more liberal school law. In this regard, the progress of world history is indeed very curious. With regard to the education system, people were actually free—please do not think that I am now trying to express conservative or reactionary tendencies; I merely wish to state historical facts—in those bygone days when there was still no liberalism, let alone democracy. Lack of freedom only arose in the era of liberalism and democracy. I do not even wish to claim that these things—lack of freedom and liberalism, lack of freedom and democracy—necessarily go hand in hand; but in the course of historical development, they have proven to be closely linked. And the most unfree educational system of all is found in that part of today’s—well, I don’t know if I should say “civilized world”—in that part of the European world that is even regarded by some Western European, democratically minded people as a kind of paradise: in Soviet Russia. There, freedom is being eradicated root and branch by what is called “extreme democracy,” and an educational system is taking its place that is, in fact, a caricature of human freedom and human activity.

[ 45 ] Well then, I would like to strongly emphasize that the reconstruction of the Goetheanum is indeed a necessity, and that one would only decide not to rebuild it if there were a compelling reason to do so. So this must certainly be the goal, and it is also taken for granted—and vigorously pursued as a goal—by all those who are serious about anthroposophy. As soon as the official matters are settled, every effort will of course be made in this direction. One can only ever do one thing at a time if one does not wish to advocate something merely in theory. After all, one can decide on all sorts of things and devise plans, but if one stands on the ground of a realistic understanding, one does so only when the foundation for it is in place. The ideal situation, of course, would be if what could be established in terms of the general spiritual life of the people and other aspects of community life through a new Goetheanum could be complemented by a public school here as well. But that depends precisely on all these interests—which are particularly prevalent in this region—being resolved in some way.

[ 46 ] And for my part, I am convinced that if only a sufficiently large number of people—by which I do not always mean majorities—can be found who recognize such a school as a necessity, then it will come into being. Ways and means will certainly be found, and it will come into being. With the Goetheanum, however, it is not so easy. Of course, shaping it—let’s say—out of the will of Switzerland is not so easy; it must be an international endeavor.

[ 47 ] But elementary schools do indeed emerge from the cultures of the people, and the point here is really that neither the Waldorf teachers nor I nor anyone else other than our esteemed Swiss friends and visitors has a say in this matter—and that it would therefore be essential, above all else, to hear the feelings, attitudes, and views of precisely these Swiss friends and visitors on this point.

[ 48 ] Following further remarks by participants, Dr. Steiner is asked to deliver the closing remarks.

[ 49 ] The Chair believes I should say a few more words. These can really only consist of my expressing my great satisfaction that the distinguished guests gathered here have demonstrated the very best will and the very best intentions. And it must be said that any such gathering of people is a cause for joy—people who, in turn, come to realize that what is cultivated here in Dornach is, after all, not what so many people falsely make of it. And when a number of individuals come together who, simply through their own observations, can discern how much falsehood is being spread about Dornach, then the time will also come when everything that is intended today—though still only faintly evident from here—will be disseminated in a much, much easier way. Of course, not everyone is in a position to see the very specific way in which what happens here in Dornach is distorted. One is sometimes quite astonished at how little moral ethos actually exists among people today, at how much indifference there is toward distortions and misrepresentations—which actually belong in the realm of immorality—and at how much of what is done in the way of distortions and misrepresentations is accepted with a certain apathy. It is, after all, the case that one encounters almost disbelief when one touches upon matters that belong to this realm. A prominent figure was mentioned here yesterday—one whom a great many people in Switzerland look up to. And when one is now compelled to say that this figure, for example, had already disparaged my book *The Key Points*—even before it had been published, and thus before the figure in question could have read a single word of it—people, given the general ethical apathy that prevails today, will not take particular notice when a figure who is perhaps even famous to some degree utters a falsehood. As a result, these things add up. They add up tremendously, in fact. About two years ago, for instance, it was repeatedly pointed out how a theological figure here in Switzerland had written a pamphlet containing the grotesque claim that a wooden sculpture was to be erected here at the Goetheanum—one that could already be seen in the studio and that bore Luciferic features at the top and an animal-like appearance at the bottom. Now, this figure bears the features of an ideally formed Christ at the top, and the lower part is not yet finished. When confronted, this person simply explained that he had copied these words from someone else. You see, despite this, the person in question is a widely renowned figure in Switzerland. This has often been said in our circle—and stated with a certain decisiveness—but it once again passes unnoticed amid the general ethical and moral apathy, instead of being taken in the broadest circles as an example of just how strong the tendency is—even among very famous figures—to simply distort anthroposophy and everything associated with it through untruths, through very gross untruths. - Well, I could go on like this. But I fear that if I were to list for you even a small fraction of the untruths—real untruths—that have been spread about anthroposophy, and about everything that stems from it, we would not be able to part ways until the sun rises again. Of course, we do not want that. But the fact is that it must be emphasized once again: Everything becomes so difficult for us because falsehoods about Dornach and everything associated with it are rampant through all sorts of underhanded channels, and because people remain somewhat indifferent in the face of these things. I do not want to beg—of course not—for people to defend Dornach. But one thing is exceptionally important, and that is this: Many people say, “Yes, when it comes to expressing opinions, freedom must prevail in the broadest sense.”—Certainly, everyone is entitled to their opinion; no one can hold this view more strongly than I do. It simply goes without saying that everyone should have their own opinion and be free to express it. But no one should be allowed to speak a falsehood into the world without also hearing a meaningful response to it. The world is already most disturbed by falsehoods. And that is precisely what we find most difficult to bring to light here. We have many good friends, but the enthusiasm for standing up for the truth in such a way that one also deals with falsehood in the proper manner has not yet grown very strong for everything that emanates from Dornach. And the difficulties are all connected to these matters more than one might think.

[ 50 ] For example, I recently found myself in a situation where I was confronted with a very large number of falsehoods—that is, judgments that were false and that were being attributed to me. Since I was keen in this case to correct the judgment people had formed based on these widespread falsehoods, I said: “Well, what if I commit to refuting all these falsehoods with supporting documentation in a very concise manner—in such a way that it wouldn’t require much reading—in a very short time? What would that be like?”—To which I was told: “That wouldn’t change anything.” — Isn’t that right? These are, after all, indications of difficulties where one can pinpoint what the core issue is. So, correcting the many falsehoods that are rampant in Dornach—that would certainly be something that is highly desirable. — Raising funds for a Swiss school association wouldn’t be so difficult if this mistrust weren’t present. But this mistrust, I believe, will persist as long as we are not effectively able not only to counter falsehoods with the truth, but also to point to a certain number of people who know that the falsehoods are indeed falsehoods and who are also willing to stand up for the fact that these falsehoods really are falsehoods.

[ 51 ] You see, in many respects, this situation has already led to the point where I have recently had to say to some people: “Yes, it actually hurts us the most when we ourselves have to prove the truth of our cause.” For people would much rather have us be the way the falsehoods about us describe us. Then they wouldn’t have to feel guilty about badmouthing us. But as it is, the very people who spread the falsehoods about Dornach and anthroposophy most actively know full well that these things are untrue. And what is most unpleasant for them is if someone could prove to them that these falsehoods are indeed false. This is true with regard to personal matters and so on. I am certainly not bringing up these things now in order to speak about such matters yet again at this point, but I simply wish to say: I present them, as it were, as the shadow that every light casts; for the light to have its proper brightness, the shadow must be there. Brighter lights cast stronger shadows. I present these things as the other side of the matter. But precisely because this other side exists, you may believe me when I say that it gives me all the more heartfelt satisfaction that this evening, from so many quarters, there have been such forceful calls for action on behalf of the cause we are advocating here. And as I express this heartfelt satisfaction to you, I would also like to place the light alongside the shadow—which, as I said, I have merely placed in this light to make it appear all the more brilliant; for it truly shines quite beautifully to me—this light that has been cast before us by the fact that so many esteemed and dear guests who have gathered here have spoken so urgently in favor of the cause.