The Idea and Practice of Waldorf Education

GA 297 — 8 October 1920, Dornach

3. Discussion of Pedagogical and Psychological Questions

at the first Anthroposophical College Course at the Goetheanum

Question: How can we recognize the different temperaments in children and in ourselves?

Rudolf Steiner: I would like to say a few words about temperament, more to point out how, under the influence of the pedagogy that we want to cultivate in Waldorf schools, intellectualism and the other soul qualities gradually become an art of education. What is important is that it should not be a matter of mere skill or of pure science in education, but that it should be an art. This presupposes that one is able to observe the human being from all sides, that one has made a great effort to grasp the nuances of the soul life as revealed in the different temperaments. First more theoretically, then, as soon as one has grasped what you find in our anthroposophical literature in various descriptions of the temperaments, by applying it to life. In many cases, this is a method of convincing oneself of the truth that anthroposophy can help when it is seen in the spirit; it is a method of having life confirm it. Life's experiences will present themselves to us at every turn, showing how what is seen in the spirit - or even just appropriated by learning what the seer has seen - must then be transferred into life.

So it should be a more or less long path of one's own study of the human being, and I would like to say about the whole human being. When this has been passed on to the teacher, then what comes out at the end is something like a rounded handling of life. Let us assume that a teacher has been trained in the way I have only been able to sketch it out, in that he has looked into the being of the developing human being with certain glances, and he comes to teach after such preparation. Then the following can happen: he speaks with a child in class. This child, to whom he asks a question, will prepare to answer with a certain ease and indifference. The teacher has a certain idea of how the answer should be. The child easily decides to give the answer, gives an answer without showing that the decision is difficult for him. In the end, one has the feeling that —- one acquires a certain certainty in this feeling only by allowing what I have described to happen: Yes, that is an answer, it is approximately correct, but this answer came about because this child has forgotten much of what I have already taught. The answer is such that much more could be added to it. And I may be led to add much more. The child accepts this and sits down again. I am dealing with a sanguine child.

I ask a question of a second child. The child shows me as I get up that it takes a certain resolve to approach the question. So it allows the question to approach it, not moving its face back and forth, but looking at me quite rigidly. It allows the question to approach it. Now, after it has heard the question, it is silent for a while. It will take a special art to observe and evaluate such reactions in the right way when teaching in a game of questions and answers. Only after a certain pause, which is, so to speak, completely neutral, can you see an effort in the child to come to a decision, to formulate the answer. One will find that the answer is difficult for him, that the child has to struggle to formulate the answer. For such things one must be able to acquire the necessary sense of tact. And one will generally find that this child brings everything he can muster to give the answer. And one will notice from the child's whole bearing – especially from the fact that he probably lowers his face a little – that he is not entirely satisfied with his answer. One will therefore be able to notice anticipation and retrospective feeling, anticipation and empathy before and after the answer: one is dealing with a melancholy child.

You ask a third child a question. You may need to ask the question a second time, because you realize that the child has not fully understood it. The child barely takes in the question completely, you may have to make an effort to formulate the question again forcefully, and so on. Then the child does not make the gesture with his hand, but in his soul [Rudolf Steiner demonstrates the gesture]. It says something to you; there is then something in the words - you have to have a feeling for this - sometimes something that does not correspond to the question: you are dealing with a phlegmatic child.

Then a fourth child. It has long been noticed that this child is eager to answer and wants to be asked questions. You ask it a question and you can hear how the answer bubbles up. How it says something in some way beyond the answer that one expected. This has nothing to do with the method, or that the answer may not be given correctly, but it is a matter of the habitus, how the child behaves, namely that it pushes itself to do so. One must develop a feeling for what is going on in the sphere of temperament – because it is not at all the case that the child who pushes to answer and wants to be asked is much more knowledgeable than the other. Perhaps it does not even know as much as the phlegmatic child. It is not a matter of the method or something learned, but of the feeling habitus, the sentience habitus. There may be a very poor answer. Nevertheless, you can recognize the choleric child by the way he behaves. And so, if you observe the essence of the human being in the right, lively way – if you stand in front of the children in the first lesson, you can tell from their corresponding expression – if you are only able to assess them correctly – what temperament you are dealing with.

Of course, this is just one example. It can also be observed in other ways. What matters is that the educational theory gained from anthroposophy becomes an art of education, so that, just as the artist nuances in color, sees something in color that the other person cannot see, so one sees something in the child that the other person does not see and perceive, and so one must first become acquainted with the nature of the child.

Question: How can we influence the temperaments through colors?

Rudolf Steiner: I refer you to the booklet “The Education of the Child in the Light of Anthroposophy”, which was published many years ago. I will try to explain some of it to you.

Let us assume, then, that a child faces you at an early age as a choleric child. It will not take a game of questions and answers to figure it out, but it may show itself by kicking terribly at every opportunity, by throwing itself on the floor and beating itself. All these expressions are the corresponding ones in the choleric child.

Now, if you are a layperson, you will probably believe that you can tame such a child by placing it in a calming, colorful environment if possible. But that is not true. If you surround the choleric child with blue or dress him in blue clothes, then precisely because he has the disposition for it, when he is surrounded by this calming blue color, which he does not reject, he will act out his choleric temperament. He will become even more “z'widerer,” more rumbling. On the other hand, if the child is surrounded by red, the exciting red color, you know from other lectures that the complementary color is green, the green-bluish complementary color is evoked. The child, when constantly surrounded by red, has to make an effort internally to experience the complementary color internally and is not externally excited. So the same thing, that is what has a calming effect on an excited child.

On the other hand, you will have a good effect on a melancholy child if you get him to come out of himself by bringing him into a blue, greenish-blue environment; so don't be afraid that if you give him a calming, adoring environment, you will make him even more melancholy.

The point here is to really understand how it follows from the essence of man that you fight fire with fire. You see, it is always a matter of starting from the essence of man and using the knowledge you gain to approach life. But I would like to make it quite clear that a mechanistic view must be avoided when considering education as an art. And when we ask how we can influence temperaments by means of colors and such things, we must not fall into the trap of intellectual systematization. If education becomes an art, then one does not arrive at such intellectual schematizing. When dealing with color, one does not look at the temperaments, but in general one is more concerned with whether the child is an excited or an unexcited child. It may also happen, for example, that a phlegmatic child may have to be treated in the same way with colors as a melancholic child, and so on. In short, the aim is to develop a living art of education from a living science of education.

Question: Is it beneficial for children to look back as early as five or six years of age?

Rudolf Steiner: I do not know what prompted the question about children looking back. I also do not know if the question arises from experience. It seems so, because it is written here. I am actually surprised that this question has been asked, because I would have thought that such nonsense, having five- to six-year-old children look back, would not actually occur. As you know from my writings, looking back is practiced, in particular, from “How to Know Higher Worlds” in order to advance spiritually and to gradually arrive at a real spiritual view. And you can easily imagine what a profound effect it has on a person when such a review is practiced, when you consider that the other thinking, the one that runs along in the course of natural phenomena, is the thinking of ordinary consciousness. When we now, through a certain inner effort, try to formulate a review in such a way that we, as it were, go through the events of the day backwards from evening to morning, we snatch ourselves away from precisely this ordinary thinking and imagining and experiencing of things. We break free. And by doing this radically, in such a contrary way, we gradually achieve an inner emancipation of the soul and spirit element in the human being. Such practice provides a support for spiritual progress.

Now it could be meant – it is not clearly expressed in the question – that a review would be adapted for children to such an exercise, which is appropriate for spiritual progress in later life. That would simply be nonsense for the reason that one would introduce an absolute disorder into the relationship between the spiritual-mental and the bodily-etheric of the child. It would be plain to see that one was causing terrible damage. To allow such practices with children would mean that one would tear apart at a very early stage that which corresponds to the imagination, to feeling, to the will; that one would bring such disorder into the whole soul-spiritual-physical organization of the child that one would virtually develop the child, deliberately develop it into childish mental deficiency, into a kind of dementia praecox. If one hears about such things at all, if one becomes familiar with such things, it is important to know that they should not be used in a novelistic way, and especially that they are not only not intended for children aged five to six, but that it is nonsense to use them at all in people before sexual maturity. If the intention is to look back in such a way that the child is allowed to remember the events of the day, then such a thing must at least not be taken to any extreme. It may sometimes be necessary for the child to remember some kind of misbehavior or for them to remember a joy they have experienced for this or that reason, but to is something that is basically also a kind of mischief, albeit a small mischief, compared to when, for example, it is meant to suggest that the child should be doing spiritual exercises.

A question about a 23-year-old person with an intellectual disability: Is the disability connected to a past life and how should the person in question be educated?

Rudolf Steiner: In such matters, each case is truly an individual one and nothing can be said from the few details given on this note, least of all how the mental deficiency in question is connected with any previous life on earth. As for how to treat him educationally, that really depends entirely on what the person was like before. Above all, the person should be followed up in terms of education: What was done with the person before? Was no attention paid to the fact that there were abnormalities in the past? The real issue is that it is not possible for a young person of twenty-three to become feeble-minded unless it is due to an external necessity. Rather, the issue is that the things that preceded it should have been dealt with in the appropriate way. But to answer the question of what to do after he turns twenty-three, you would have to know the person very well.

Perhaps I may take this opportunity to come back to a few other things that have caught my eye during the course of the evening. First of all, the matter of the age of nine. It is indeed the case that the main epoch of the developing human being's life is from birth to the change of teeth, then again from the change of teeth to sexual maturity, but that between the ages of nine and ten there is something that intervenes in the child's life in an extraordinarily significant way. You know that the sense of self first arises in the form of a sense of self. This sense of self only emerges in the second, third, sometimes even the fourth year of life. It is not yet an actual sense of self, and this sense of self is not actually present in a transparently clear way even at the change of teeth. So you don't give the child something that is in line with his development when you introduce things that sharply challenge the child to separate himself from his surroundings, to have a strong sense of self. Everything that is perceived when one strongly separates oneself from one's surroundings, when one perceives another being as another, one should bring up as little as possible to the child up to the age of nine, but should guide the child in such a way that it perceives the outside world only as a continuation of its own being, so to speak. One should cultivate precisely this feeling, which does not separate from the outside world. One should educate the child in such a way that it can feel and sense what is outside, as if it were continuing into its own organization and vice versa. And only around the age of nine does a clear and distinct sense of self actually awaken. It is this sense of self that Jean Paul says is actually in the innermost sanctum of the human being and that only this sense of self actually allows one to feel the human being as such, the human existence inwardly. This sense of self awakens in the ninth year. And in this year, between the ninth and tenth year – these things are, of course, only approximations – the world also enters, the outer world; the child differentiates itself from the outer world, is allowed to differentiate itself of its own accord. It is then possible to approach the child with the simplest ideas and observations from the plant and animal kingdoms, no longer to bring things to the child merely in the form of fairy tales, legends or stories, but to really bring them in such a way that the child acquires possible ideas - I do not mean systematically as in science. That is what needs to be observed.

What cannot be emphasized strongly enough for the art of education is that one must not follow the mischief of introducing scientific categories into school life. Unfortunately, even the schoolbooks for the lower grades are often put together in such a way that their content is taken out of scientific books in its structure and direction. But botany, zoology and so on should not be taught to the child as if one wanted to believe that he should become a botanist or zoologist; rather, precisely because one assumes that he should certainly not become a botanist or zoologist, not in such a way that one presents him with all the raisins, but in such a way that one uses the aptitudes that the child has at that particular moment, and then helps them to break through. This is the result of a natural art of education, as applied in Waldorf schools: people are not trained according to a certain specialization, but they are made human beings. And if they then develop in one direction or another, it is because their original abilities have not been suppressed and can now develop in a certain sense. That is what makes a human being human.

Regarding the lecture by Rudolf Meyer, Berlin:

It would certainly be interesting to pursue the considerations that Mr. Meyer so beautifully presented in his lecture on the relationship between Fichte, Pestalozzi and Herbart from a psychological point of view. But let me just express a few thoughts about it.

It is extremely interesting that from the consideration of Pestalozzi one gets the idea that the successes that he had with his art of education are essentially based on the fact that he was, as it seems, an infinitely amiable personality, especially towards children, and that out of a certain childlike love he instinctively applied a highly perfect art of education.

It is a different matter when we look at what was happening around Pestalozzi. Here we do not get the impression that Pestalozzi would have been able to transfer to others the educational skills that he possessed through the inherent kindness of his personality. And if you look at the actual pedagogical principles, the more fundamental aspects, and not just at the extraordinarily charming descriptions that Pestalozzi gave of life with children – which can be extremely inspiring, especially for educators – but if you ask other people about the instructions he gave, you can see that he was not in a position to become aware of what instinctively worked in him as an educational art in a lovable way, so that he could have transferred it to others. Therefore, the love that Pestalozzi is shown is actually based more on the fact that this amiable personality speaks from all his writings, and what one feels when reading these writings triggers many educational impulses from within the human being. While - I only need to recall the instructions that Pestalozzi gives, one must teach very young children the parts of the human body in a way that is not at all natural. If you look at Pestalozzi's formulations in his art of education, you have to say: that is not suitable for inspiring other educators.

But something else is becoming blatantly obvious. It may well be that Pestalozzi also proceeded with young children as he describes it, and had great success; while another - even a direct student of Pestalozzi, we can prove that it was so - who followed the same instructions, now achieved absolutely nothing. The fact is that the important personality of Pestalozzi was not behind it. In the final analysis, it is not the content that is important in a pedagogical system that aspires to become an art of education. The pedagogy cultivated in Waldorf school lessons is actually about the fact that, under certain circumstances, even if the content of what is taught is based on false premises – it does not have to be so, but it can be so – it can nevertheless have an effect on the child in an appropriate way through the way the art of education is applied. One might say that in Waldorf education it is not so much the content of the teaching that is important as the way it is handled. This is because spiritual science is fundamentally not something that merely — that is not even the most important thing, in fact — but spiritual science essentially consists in the fact that it gives a living world view, that it allows what it gives as a world view to be truly experienced. That is why spiritual science is so poorly understood. Because, you see, in the sense of our spiritual science here – and I am saying this precisely with regard to spiritual science as the basis of a pedagogical art – it is certainly a mistake for someone to be a pure materialist, for someone to have materialistic theories; but one can also formulate materialistic theories very wittily. One can have spirit and be a materialist. And conversely, one can also be a spiritualist, a theosophist, an anthroposophist, who can reel off theories from spiritualism, theosophy or anthroposophy and be terribly spiritless in the process. Then it is a matter of the spirit of materialism, which, however, prevails, having to be valued more highly in the sense of a real anthroposophy than the spiritlessness of the anthroposophist, who schematically recounts everything that is theory or inanimate outlook on life. So that one can say: anthroposophy is directed towards the real life of the spirit. And this real life of the spirit really does enter the whole human being. In a sense, the spirit should be banished into what the human being does. And that is what makes the teacher, from the most profound level of his spiritual science, skilled in the art of education, which enables him to truly transform education.

This is what Rudolf Meyer presented so beautifully in his lecture and by which he measured the intellectualism of Herbart, who played such a great role in the education that we will hopefully soon have behind us and that we will very soon replace with a different one.

Today, you have also been presented with a very nice illustration of how Herbart's views were shaped by his inheritance. But there is something else that matters in the assessment of Herbart, namely how the selection has worked. For the culturally and historically important phenomenon is that one looks at this Herbart, who was purely intellectualistic, but who founded a comprehensive pedagogical school that then had an enormous influence on pedagogical work. It must be said that the fact that, of all the philosophers and other world-view thinkers, it was this intellectualist Herbart who was chosen by the fate of Central Europe to be the educational source of inspiration can be traced back to the entirely intellectualist tendency that the intellectual life of the 19th century took.

This can be made particularly clear with regard to Herbart by the following: one could point out, for example, as Rudolf Meyer has done very nicely, and one can also do so with other personalities, that Schiller's “Letters on the Aesthetic Education of Man” are also a kind of pedagogical impulse. Schiller, who so magnificently portrays how, on the one hand, man tends towards intellectualism and, on the other, towards mere sensual-physical instincts, points out how man follows the necessity of reason in logic, in the intellectual, and how he follows the necessity of the senses in ordinary life. And then Schiller presents beauty, which is the balance between the two, which one achieves by being able to follow the spiritual not only logically in the intellect, but to already have it in sensual perception, so that one may also feel the pleasant as thoroughly beautiful. On the other hand, he demands that what one experiences sensually should already be spiritualized, so that it is elevated, that one experiences it as spiritual. Schiller therefore actually wants to create a balance in beauty between the intellectual and the sensual-illustrative or instinctive will. And basically he wants to permeate all of life with what emerges from people when they are educated for such a balance. In Schiller, we see how he wants to bring people to action through the spirit, how he works towards this balance between intellectualism and between the instinctive, that is, the dull-willed element, but one that is to be spiritualized, how he points out that the whole human being is to be placed in the world.

This is then contrasted with Herbartianism – yes, one can tell a whole story about it if one has experienced Herbartianism as strongly as it was experienced by people who spent their youth in Austria in the second half of the 19th century, where Herbartianism was proclaimed as philosophy from all the lecterns. It was only Brentano who introduced a change in this respect, but he was an isolated case. Herbartianism continued to be preached until the turn of the century, or at least until the 1890s, and everything that was achieved in the field of education, as you can see, is based on Herbart.

One of these 'Herbartians' was Robert Zimmermann, a very brilliant man, an important man and also a morally superior personality; but he was a Herbartian through and through. And he wrote a 'Philosophical Propaedeutic' for grammar school students. This “Philosophical Propaedeutic” also contained a psychology. In this psychology, there is the following sentence: Man experiences hunger or satiation through food not through something else, but through the ideas he has about it. So it is quite broadly argued that it does not depend on the real process behind the phenomenon of how hunger is transformed into satiation, but it depends - and now I quote almost word for word: if you have the idea of hunger at a certain moment of the day, this idea of hunger would be pushed below the threshold of consciousness by the opposite idea of satiation.

This replacement of nutrition with a purely intellectual process is something that has actually been included in high school psychology textbooks, and one can imagine how the minds of those who absorbed such psychology without knowing it had to be colored.

But I would like to draw attention to something else. Very briefly, I will touch on how Herbartian aesthetics stands in contrast to basically all other aesthetic worldviews that have emerged in Central Europe. When one speaks of aesthetics, then it depends on whether one speaks – I will say it now in general – of what speaks to you as beauty or what repels you as ugliness, that you essentially remain in the realm of taste judgment. Then one differentiates from this aesthetics – and this is what otherwise distinguishes aesthetics from the ethics found within Central Europe – that which, as will, impulsates the moral act or that which is sick in the will in the immoral act. What other people in Central Europe developed as aesthetics, what they selected from the direct impulse of the will, does not exist for Herbart's philosophical considerations. For ethics is only a special chapter of aesthetics. And just as in art, when two forms have something in common, for example, this is the summarizing, the harmonious element, so it is for Herbart in relation to moral judgment. He speaks of five forms: the relationship of action to action or action to thought, and the like, and he says: a strong action pleases next to a weak one. He looks at the aesthetic impression, not at the volitional impulse, and gives his judgment of favor the term “perfection.” So that in the case of perfection, it is not the volitional element that is effectively present in the human being as a volitional impulse, but rather he says: If I will more strongly one time and more weakly the other, I gain the aesthetic impression that the strong is more pleasing than the weak. Therefore it is predominant.

You see, what should be a powerful driving force is reduced to a judgment of liking or disliking. You then have the idea of wanting, of moral freedom, of right and of retribution. These five ethical ideas are therefore considered by Herbart, not by taking them out of the nature of the will, of ethos, but by observing, as it were, how man's action pleases or displeases when it is looked at. So you have here the task of at least guiding ethics, which should essentially arise from the will, on the way to the intellectual. I said that one must look at the selection process to see why Herbart was chosen by the fate of Central Europe. This is based on the fact that the age as such had to go through intellectualism, that the age as such demanded intellectualism.

Now, we have indeed gained a great deal through intellectualism. In Herbart's work, some dark sides and some light sides of this intellectualism can be seen. As Mr. Rudolf Meyer just mentioned, Herbart's ideas only found their way into elementary school pedagogy indirectly, not exactly directly, but all the more so into grammar school pedagogy. The only problem is that in the latter case, it remained an intellectual exercise and did not lead to a true art of education or to the proper practice of pedagogy. For what was this grammar school education? As you know, as a rule the philosopher in the philosophy faculty had to teach it as a subsidiary subject, not out of any great sympathy for it. And as for how it was practised – well, we would rather not talk about how education was practised at grammar schools. It was simply not possible to bring into the art of education that which draws from mere intellectual sources. On the other hand, we must not forget or overlook the fact that Herbart, who had such a broad impact and was so widely disseminated, had an enormously disciplining effect on thinking, that the inner weaving of thoughts does not follow pure arbitrariness but certain underlying laws, which is of course also true. And in this respect it did not really improve until Herbartianism gradually declined more or less only towards the end of the nineteenth century; on the contrary, it must be said that there was something disciplining in Herbart's philosophy , something that, even if it easily led thoughts into an even greater pedantry, nevertheless made this pedantry less unbearable than when the pedantry runs without an inner conformity to the laws of thinking. On the whole, it must be said that, in the 19th century, humanity's urge to discipline thinking inwardly came about, which then also had an effect on natural science until very recently and which has a certain significance. It must be said that in this respect Herbart certainly had a disciplining effect. But today we are faced with a challenge of the world, in the face of which we have to say: We will not get anywhere with such intellectualism. We can no longer, so to speak, substitute the idea of hunger and satiation – apparently it can only be one or the other – for the real process and thereby entrench ourselves entirely in our heads as in a fortress. We have to engage the whole person through what we do. In the course of this discussion about Herbart's intellectualism, I was constantly reminded of how the entire 19th century, especially in Central Europe, was dominated by intellectualism. This became very vividly clear to me many years ago in a conversation I had with the long-deceased Austrian poet Hermann Rollett. He was a remarkable personality. He was completely immersed in intellectualism. He could not imagine the world differently. He said that everything else was simply not proper, had no discipline of thought, one had to think intellectually, think atomistically, and so on. But he was terribly pessimistic, and he once said to me: “For our development as a civilization, as civilized people of the world, we have the prospect of ultimately wasting away in all our limbs and being only heads, being only a ball!” This was Rollett's world, and it was what led him to despair of the progress of humanity, because he believed that the limbs would atrophy more and more, that man would only roll along as a head ball, and that there would be such small bits of arms and feet sticking out. He painted this vividly as a picture.

But it is necessary, at least in a spiritual and psychological sense, to do everything from now on to prevent man from developing into a mere head person in the future. It must be understood that the spirit is not only talked about to him, but that it is banished from human life. But when the spirit takes hold of the whole human being in such a way that this whole human being also radiates the spirit into the social existence, then this is what the time demands of us with all our energy and what we must fulfill: the education of the human being not only as a head human being and towards some one-sidedness, but the education of the whole human being through spiritual science.