RS - Balance in Teaching

BALANCE IN TEACHING
[XI]
FOUND AT IO N S O F WA L D O R F E D UC ATIO N
RUDOLF STEINER
B a lance i n Teac h in g
S T U T T G A RT
September 15-22, 1920 and October 15-16, 1923
Anthroposophic Press
The publisher wishes to acknowledge the inspiration
and support of Connie and Robert Dulaney
* * *
Copyright © SteinerBooks, 2007
Published by Anthroposophic Press/SteinerBooks

610 Main Street, Great Barrington, MA 01230
www.steinerbooks.org
This book is volume 302a in the Collected Works of Rudolf Steiner. It is a

translation of Erziehung und Unterricht aus Menschenerkenntnis, published by
Rudolf Steiner Verlag, Dornach, Switzerland. Part I: “Balance in Teaching” is a
revised translation by Ruth Pusch © Mercury Press, 1982, used with permission
of Mercury Press, Spring Valley, NY. Part II: “Deeper Insights into Education”
is translated by René Querido © Anthroposophic Press, 1983.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Steiner, Rudolf, 1861-1925.

[Erziehung und Unterricht aus Menschenerkenntnis. English. Selections]
Balance in teaching : Stuttgart September 15-22, 1920 and October 15-16, 1923
/ Rudolf Steiner.
p. cm. -- (Collected works of Rudolf Steiner ; 302a) (Foundations of
Waldorf education ; 11)
Two series of lectures, originally published separately.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 978-0-88010-551-4
1. Steiner, Rudolf, 1861-1925. 2. Waldorf method of education.
3. Anthroposophy. I. Title.
LB775.S7E792513 2007
371.3 — dc22
2007032330
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any

form without the written permission of the publisher, except for
brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and articles.
C O NTE NTS
Introduction by Douglas Gerwin ix
PART ONE
Balance in Teaching
LECTURE ONE
The Educational Task of Central Europe

The flooding of Central Europe by the impulses and philosophy of the
West. Herbert Spencer and his views. The educational task of Central
Europe: to nurture living education. Education must be founded on
a knowing and feeling relationship to the being of the child. Inner
attitude of the teacher. Tragedy and humor.
Stuttgart, September 15, 1920 1
LECTURE TWO
The Three Fundamental Forces in Education

Differences in development of the constituents of the human being.
Change of teeth. The interaction of soul and body. Puberty. The activ-
ity of the speech and musical forces; their connection with the sculp-
tural-architectonic forces. Tasks and effects of music, painting and
drawing, and eurythmy. The hygienic-therapeutic aspects of instruc-
tion. Reverence, enthusiasm, and the feeling of protection.
LECTURE THREE
Supersensible Physiology in Education

Education as science and as art. The interaction in teaching of the tonal
and the pictorial element. Perceiving, comprehending, remembering.
The interaction of the physical body with the soul-spiritual. Meditation
of the teacher and its transformation into creative forces.
LECTURE FOUR
Balance in Teaching
The educational process as incarnating process. The integration of the
“I” into the human organization through the artistic element in teach-
ing. The “too much” and the “not enough.” Therapeutic effect of the
different subjects and teaching measures. The head forces and the body.
Knowledge of the human being as a bridge to the child, as awakener of
the force of love.
PART TWO
Deeper Insights into Education
Preface by René Querido 61
LECTURE ONE
Gymnast, Rhetorician, Professor: A Living Synthesis

Threefoldness of the human being is revealed in the development of
education. Educator as gymnast in Greece, as rhetorician in Rome, as
scholar from the fifteenth century onward. Modern education must
cultivate a synthesis of these three elements. Examples of how our
knowledge of the world has become abstract and alienates us from
the real world. How Waldorf education can bring life to knowledge.
Teachers can achieve something with children only by being human,
not merely by being able to think.
Stuttgart, October 15, 1923 65
LECTURE TWO
Forces Leading to Health and Illness in Education

Why do we educate? Education is a metamorphosis of the healing
process as humans unfold their being on Earth. Teachers must learn to
regard things in their educational application as either bringing health
or being injurious to health, rather than being “true” or “false.” Under-
standing the principle of healing through knowledge of our relation
to the world around us. True feelings of enthusiasm and responsibility
must arise in teachers.
Stuttgart, October 16, 1923, Afternoon 80
LECTURE THREE
A Comprehensive Knowledge of the Human Being as the Source of

Imagination in the Teacher
A description of the processes of health and illness continually taking
place in the human organism. Everything one does affects these
processes. Teachers are coworkers in the actual guidance of the world.
What is needed to adopt the right attitude toward the task of true educa-
tion: example of Mahatma Gandhi. Teachers must unite themselves
with the archangel Michael to work for the healing of humanity.
Stuttgart, October 16, 1923, Evening 94
The Foundations of Waldorf Education 107
Rudolf Steiner’s Lectures and Writings on Education 108
Index 111
I NTR O D U CTI O N
by Douglas Gerwin
HIGH up in the wooded mountains of Phokis stands a circle

of tall fluted columns marking the secluded temple of Delphi.
According to legend, Zeus released two eagles from opposite
ends of the world, and the craggy olive grove where these two
mighty messengers converged he designated as being the Ompha-
lus, the navel of the world. Eventually this meeting place became
the sacred precinct for two Greek deities, who occupied a temple
erected on this quiet mountainside. It was said that Apollo and
Dionysus took up residence at Delphi during each year; first
Apollo and then Dionysus, but never both at the same time.
These two gods—Apollo and Dionysus—embody polar
complementary forces that work in opposite ways to develop the
child and young adult, but they also help teachers educate chil-
dren to grow into strong and, above all, healthy human beings.
Rudolf Steiner describes how children first come into the world
primarily under the radiant formative guidance of Apollo; but
already in the early years, and certainly by the second dentition,
the turbulent stirrings of Dionysus begin to arise in these increas-
ingly independent young human beings. The central task of teach-
ers is to permit these alternating forces to play themselves out in
the developing children and adolescents without overwhelming
them. How to do this?
x B A L A NC E I N T E AC H I NG
This question stands at the heart of two series of lectures

that Rudolf Steiner held towards the end of his life in Stuttgart,
Germany, for teachers at the original Waldorf school. The first
set was given as follow-up to an intense two-week teacher educa-
tion course that Steiner had offered these teachers just before the
school opened in 1919.1 In a series of four lectures given a year
later, in September 1920, Steiner described the polar opposite
forces that work on the developing child and spelled out in rare
detail how teachers could use the curriculum to balance these
forces. The second set, held just over three years later, in Octo-
ber of 1923, focused more on the historically changing mission
of the teacher—from Greek gymnast and Roman rhetorician to
modern professor—and laid out the need for teachers to collabo-
rate more intimately with the medical profession in the healthy
unfolding of youth.
In both lecture series (herein collected for the first time in
English as a single volume), Steiner explores the effects on the
child of what he variously calls, on the one hand, sculptural or
etheric formative forces and, on the other, musical or astral forces.
These formative forces, like a sculptor taking hold of a handful of
clay, work in the spirit of Apollo from the whole to the part. They
act with a centripetal gesture—starting from the vast expanses of
the periphery—to form and ground and center a child: in short,
to incarnate the child into unique flesh and bone, distinct blood
and nerve. The other forces, like a musician taking up a trumpet
or drum, work in the spirit of Dionysus from individual elements
to the whole. They act with a centrifugal gesture—starting with
distinct parts, like individual notes—to build and expand and
extend a child: in short, to excarnate it from the confines of the
1. In English, this course is available in three separate volumes: Study of Man

(published also as Foundations of Human Experience), Discussions with Teachers,
and Practical Advice to Teachers.
Introduction xi
physical world and connect it with the whole periphery of the

spiritual world.
Left to themselves, these forces can work one-sidedly on the
growing child, with devastating consequences. Allow the sculptural,
formative, centripetal, linear forces of Apollo to exert too strong a
grip, and we can see children grow prematurely stiff in carriage and
sometimes burdened of soul, like grumpy little gnomes trapped in
the confines of precociously sclerotic bodies. Allow the musical,
centrifugal, curvilinear forces of Dionysus to rise up too strongly,
and we can see children who stay youthful and carefree too long,
like flighty Peter Pans or fluid slender sylphs. Here Rudolf Steiner
offers exceptionally specific suggestions on how teachers can use
the subjects of the curriculum—both academic and artistic—
either as parachutes to buoy a child’s overly precipitous descent
into the physical body, or as anchors or tethers to coax a reluc-
tant being down into corporeal existence on earth. Even the same
subject matter, he shows, can be used to one purpose or the other,
depending upon what the child or adolescent is asked to do with
it. Children overly prone to becoming trapped in the body need
to draw, write, and revel in the details of a subject in order to
loosen their “I” a little from the confines of the physical organ-
ism. By contrast, children who have difficulty taking hold of the
physical organism need to observe, as from a bird’s eye view, what
they have drawn or written, or be encouraged to attend to the
overall meaning or context of a subject, rather than its details.
Underlying these suggestions is the general maxim: Move, and
you excarnate; be still, and you incarnate. But the result of move-
ment is that you feel more incarnated, as for instance after a brisk
walk; of being still, that you feel more buoyant and excarnated,
as for instance after a period of silent contemplation. As in any
organic polarity, opposite forces such as movement and stasis, far
from canceling the effects of each other, actually help to generate
them.
xii B A L A NC E I N T E AC H I NG
In other words, the forces of stilling and moving represent

two vital principles of human development. The sculptural forces
represented by the archetype of Apollo serve to induce calm,
stability, and ultimately quiescence, even to the point of rigidity.
What Steiner calls musical forces, represented by the archetype of
Dionysus, serve to stir activity, instability, and ultimately dynamic
motion, even to the point of dissolution. In Greek mythology the
first was called Kosmos (“form coming to rest”), the second Kaos
(“restless void”).
These complementary principles—movement and stasis—can
be found in two bodily systems by which most of our classroom
learning proceeds: the auditory and the visual systems. Ear and
larynx, connected by the Eustachian tube, form a single sensory
system, as anyone knows who has watched small children subtly
mouth the words they are hearing. In his study of the human
senses, Rudolf Steiner maintains that even in order to hear the
spoken word in a conversation we have actually to reproduce
gently the living etheric movements of the larynx that formed it.2
Indeed, we hear something only when it moves, and we hear only
when the ear itself vibrates. In other words, our sense of hearing is
profoundly integrated into the world of movement.3
2. See Rudolf Steiner’s lecture (Stuttgart, December 9, 1922) on “The Ear”

published in the annual journal The Golden Blade 1970, ed. Adam Bittleston,
p. 24.
3. See Armin Husemann, The Harmony of the Human Body: Musical Prin-
ciples in Human Physiology (Edinburgh: Floris Books, 1994). Husemann, a
celebrated school doctor and accomplished pianist, opened his lecture series
at the 2002 Kolisko Conference of Waldorf teachers and therapists in Lahti,
Finland, with the question: “What happens if someone tells you a joke while
you and your friends are lifting a heavy grand piano?” His answer—that
you are unable to laugh unless you first set the piano down on the floor—
graphically illustrated how deeply the larynx is embedded in our muscula-
tory system. Hoist a piano off the ground and we stretch taut every muscle of
our body, including the muscles of the larynx; once stretched, these laryngeal
muscles prevent us from laughing.
Introduction xiii
This system of ear and larynx, so utterly reliant upon our abil-
ity to move and be moved, stands in polar contrast to another
sensory system which depends on our ability to slow down move-
ment almost (though never entirely) to the point of complete quiet.
This is the pictorial or visual sense given to us through our eyes.
While each eye is surrounded by six (some say seven) muscles that
allow us to roll our eyeballs, squint at a distant object, or simply
stare at something close to hand, we see only when our eyes—and
the head in which they are set—come to a fleeting moment of
focus and rest.
These two sensory systems, and their reciprocal roles in our
development as in the processes of perceiving and remember-
ing, Rudolf Steiner explores in bold and sometimes convoluted
ways. For instance, he suggests that eye and ear both perceive
and remember in radically opposite ways. We have a dim sense of
this if we notice how very different is the experience of a picture
remembered from a tune remembered. Any advertiser knows is it
easier to lodge a catchy melody in the mind than a pretty picture.
A visual image may need to be exceptionally shocking or clever to
stick in our thoughts, but even the most trivial musical jingle can
get caught up in the revolving door of the mind. Why is this?
Rudolf Steiner explains that we perceive or take in pictorial
impressions with the visual (and other) senses of our nervous
system, centered in the brain, but we comprehend these impres-
sions only to the degree that they sink down to be worked upon
by our rhythmic systems of respiration and circulation; further-
more, he says, we commit them to lasting memory only if we fully
digest them by means of our powers of metabolism and will as
expressed through our limbs.
With aural impressions, according to Steiner, the sequence is
reversed. Sounds we perceive or take in via our will—through
metabolism and limbs. Whereas we tend to stand still when we
look—for instance at a painting in a museum gallery or at the
xiv B A L A NC E I N T E AC H I NG
sweep of a valley from a mountaintop vista—we are much more

likely to move to what we hear, especially if the sound is musical.
In other words, we perceive sound with our full body, not just
with our ears. These impressions must be lifted into our systems
of circulation and breathing, the semi-consciousness of heart and
lung, if they are to be comprehended, and only then can these
auditory perceptions rise up into the brain and nervous system,
where they are livingly remembered. “In the same regions where
we perceive the visible [i.e. the brain], we remember the audible.
In the same regions where we remember the visible [i.e. the limbs],
we perceive the audible. And the two cross over each other like a
lemniscate in the rhythmic system” (page 35). To the degree that
we become conscious of this crossing over, he adds, we can “hear
colors” and “see sounds.” This description casts entirely new light
on the learning habits of so-called “visual learners” and “auditory
learners”; the one is learning top down, so to speak; the other,
bottom up.
Complicating, and perhaps confusing, this schema is the
notion that the workings of eye and ear—and the forces they
embody—change dramatically as we grow from infant to young
adult. On the one hand, even with the embryo, we can see that
physically we grow down from head to toes under the influence
of powerfully formative, “sculptural” forces. These, according to
Steiner, radiate from the head, especially during the pre-school
years, giving shape to the child’s developing body. Apollo inhab-
its the human temple first. On the other hand, and harder to
recognize, is a countervailing stream of “musical” forces which,
starting from the sixth or seventh year, begin to challenge these
sculptural forces, resulting in the developmental milestones of the
second dentition, the so-called “nine-year-old change,” and the
voice shift at puberty. Around the onset of adolescence this colli-
sion of opposite forces is further complicated by what Steiner calls
a battle between inner forces—both musical and sculptural—
Introduction xv
threatening to break out and similarly named outer forces threat-

ening to break in.
However we understand these sculptural and musical forces,
it falls to the teachers to form their lessons in such a way that the
children overcome their natural one-sidedness, for in overcoming
imbalance they can achieve, or sustain, a condition of physical
and emotional health. Only our rhythmic systems—of breath
and blood, of lung and heart—are of themselves health giving,
since in these the relationship of movement and stasis is more in
equipoise. Here the collaboration between teacher and physician
can be especially useful to further the child’s healthy growth and
development, for the doctor engages at the unconscious level just
those therapeutic forces that the teacher employs at the conscious
level. “The forces inherent in education are metamorphoses of
therapeutic forces” (page 88). In a sense, education begins where
medicine leaves off.
This brings us to a consideration of education as a health-
bearing endeavor. All too easily teachers can set their mission
according to what is right and what is wrong in their students
and, for that matter, with their colleagues. Students are assessed
in terms of results viewed as correct or incorrect; colleagues
in terms of deeds judged as being wrong or right. While these
forms of evaluation have their place, Rudolf Steiner is at pains to
describe how these terms lose their meaning and their value when
education shifts from physical to metaphysical realities. “As soon
as we reach the spiritual world we must substitute ‘healthy’ and
‘ill’ for ‘true’ and ‘false.’. . . In the physical world things can be
‘right’; in the spiritual world nothing is ‘wrong’ or ‘right’” (pages
88-89). To the degree that education involves spiritual processes,
then, teachers need to evaluate their lessons not just on the merit
of their correctness but also on the degree to which they create
health. “We must learn to regard things in their educational
application as either healthy or unhealthy, injurious to health.
xvi B A L A NC E I N T E AC H I NG
This is of particular significance if one wishes to engender a true

consciousness of oneself as a teacher” (page 89).
In this context, it may help to recall the verse Rudolf Steiner
gave to young physicians as part of their training with him. More
recently this verse is spoken each morning during the Kolisko
conferences held every four years for educators and therapists:

Powerfully there lived in ancient times
Among the souls of the Initiates the thought
That every person coming into the world
Is ill by nature;
Education was then seen as a healing process,
Bringing to the child, as it matured,
The health it needed
To become a full human being.4
*******
A final note on reading this text: The first lecture series of this
volume, previously published in English as Balance in Teaching,
appeared in German under the title, supposedly suggested by Marie
Steiner, of Meditativ erarbeitete Menschenkunde —literally “the
study of the human being worked on meditatively.” The second
set of lectures in this book, originally issued in English under the
title Deeper Insights into Education: The Waldorf School Approach,
has also been published separately in German as Anregungen zur
innerlichen Durchdringung des Lehr- und Erzieherberufes—literally
“suggestions concerning the inner penetration of the teachers’ and
4. Rudolf Steiner’s verse to young doctors. See, for instance, Michaela Glöck-
ler et al, Education—Health for Life: Education and Medicine Working Together
for Healthy Development, Conference Companion to Kolisko Conferences
2006 (Dornach: School for Spiritual Science, 2006), p.9. Verse retranslated
by Douglas Gerwin.
Introduction xvii
educators’ profession.” At least the German titles suggest that,

notwithstanding his detailed suggestions, Steiner never intended
these series as prescriptions for teaching but rather, like so many
of his lectures, as indications for contemplative study and medi-
tation. Especially his comments on ear and eye, on musical and
sculptural forces, call for a contemplative rather than expository
reading. Like the teacher who at the end of school exclaims, “How
much have I learned this year!” we can profit from this compact set
of lectures as much in light of our lessons as in preparing them.
Douglas Gerwin, Ph.D., is Director of the Center for Anthroposo-

phy, including Chair of its Waldorf High School Teacher Education
Program, and Co-Director of the Research Institute for Waldorf Educa-
tion. Himself a Waldorf graduate, Dr. Gerwin has taught for over 25
years at university and high school levels in subjects ranging from
biology and history to German and music. He is editor of four books
related to Waldorf education—For the Love of Literature: A Celebra-
tion of Language and Imagination (published by Anthroposophic Press);
Genesis of a Waldorf High School; The Andover Proceedings: Tapping the
Wellsprings of Health in Adolescence; And Who Shall Teach the Teachers:
The Christ Impulse in Waldorf Education—as well as author of various
articles on adolescence and the Waldorf curriculum. This year he co-au-
thored the Survey of Waldorf Graduates, the first comprehensive look at
how North AmericanWaldorf graduates fare in college and beyond. He
currently resides in Amherst, Massachusetts, with his wife Connie, a
Waldorf high school teacher of math at the Hartsbrook School.
PART ONE
Balance In Teaching
1
The Educational Task of Central Europe

STUTTGART — SEPTEMBER 15, 1923
MY dear friends, during the days I am to spend here I had

intended to give a kind of supplement to last year’s introductory
education course. But the days are so few and, after what I have
just been told, there are so many things to be done that I can
hardly say whether it will be possible to get beyond these scanty
introductory words. It is almost impossible to speak of any kind
of program.
I should like first to add to what I said to you last year about
the teacher, the educator. Of course, all I shall say about the
teacher’s intrinsic being must be understood in a completely
aphoristic way, and it will really be best if it gradually takes its
true form within you yourselves, developing further through your
own thinking and feeling. The College of Teachers must become
aware that teachers especially must have a deep feeling for the
nature of the esoteric. And in calling your attention to this, I will
remind you that we base our work on anthroposophical spiritual
science; in our school this spiritual science will shape the form of
education necessary for our time. In this age of democracy and
journalism, it seems that people hardly have a true or valid feeling
for what is meant by “esoteric.” We sometimes believe that what
is true is true, what is right is right, and the true and the right
can be proclaimed before the world, once they are formulated in
2 B A L A NC E I N T E AC H I NG
a way one considers correct. But in real life this is not the case;
things are quite different. In real life the essential point is that you
can unfold a certain kind of effectiveness in your actions only if
the impulse for this effectiveness is guarded in the soul as a most
sacred, secret possession. Teachers in particular must guard many
things as sacred, secret possessions, and must look upon these as
something that only play a part in those meetings and discussions
carried on within the College of Teachers itself. At first a state-
ment of this kind does not seem particularly clear, and yet it will
become so. I could say a good deal more, but it will begin to be
understandable if I say that the principle I have just stated has
universal significance for the present age, embracing the entire
civilization of our time.
When we think about the education of the young today, we
must bear in mind that we are concerned with the feelings, ideas,
and will impulses of the next generation; we must be clear that
our present task is to prepare this next generation for definite
tasks that must be accomplished some time in humanity’s future.
When this is said, the question at once arises: Why is it then that
humanity has reached its present condition of widespread misery?
Humanity has arrived at this misery because it has, in essen-
tial things, really made itself dependent—through and through
dependent—on the kind of thinking and feeling peculiar to the
West. When someone in Central Europe—someone involved in
external public life, a journalist, best-selling author, or the like—
speaks today in Berlin or Vienna about Fichte, Herder, or even
Goethe, they are further removed from the spiritual impulse
living in these great men than they are from what is felt and
thought today in London, Paris, New York, or Chicago. Things
have gradually developed in such a way that in general our whole
civilization has been flooded by the impulses proceeding from
the philosophy of the Western nations. Our whole public life is
permeated by their philosophy.
The Educational Task of Central Europe 3
This is particularly true of the art of education. From the

last third of the nineteenth century, European nations, gener-
ally speaking, have learned from the West in all these matters;
today those who discuss or dispute questions of education take
for granted that they should make use of the habits of West-
ern thought. If you trace back all the educational ideas that are
considered reasonable in Central Europe today, you will find their
source in the views of Herbert Spencer1 or personalities like him.
People do not trace out the numerous paths by which the views
of Spencer and the others have entered the heads of those who set
the tone in cultural and spiritual questions in Central Europe,
but these paths exist; they can be found. If you take the spirit
of the educational thinking (never mind the details) such as is
found in Fichte, it is not only absolutely different from what is
generally considered sensible pedagogy today; modern people are
actually hardly capable of bringing their souls into the direction
of thinking and feeling needed to conceive how the intentions of
Fichte and Herder can be developed further. Thus, we experience
in education—especially in the art of education—that what has
become the rule is exactly the opposite of what it should be. Let
me point out to you what Spencer has written.
Spencer was of the opinion that pictorial instruction and object
lessons in school should lead in later years to the experiments
of the naturalist or into the research of the scientist. What then
would have to be done in school? According to him, we should
teach children in such a way that when they are grown up and
have the opportunity, they can carry on what they have learned
in school about minerals, plants, animals, and so on, so that they
become proper scientific thinkers. It is true that this kind of idea
is frequently opposed, but at the same time people really put this
1. Herbert Spencer (1820-1903), English philosopher.

principle into practice, simply because our textbooks are put

together with this in mind, and no one would think of altering
or doing away with our textbooks. Our botany textbooks today
are written more for future botanists than for human beings in
general. In the same way, zoology textbooks are not written for
everyone, but for future zoologists.
Now the remarkable thing is that we ought to strive for the exact
opposite of what Spencer laid down as a true educational principle.
When we are teaching children about plants and animals in our
elementary schools, we could hardly imagine a greater mistake in
our educational method than to treat the subject as an introduc-
tion to studies required to become a botanist or zoologist. If, on
the contrary, you plan your lessons so that your way of teaching
about plants and animals hinders the children from becoming
botanists or zoologists, you will have acted more wisely than by
following Spencer’s principle; for no one should become a bota-
nist or zoologist through what he or she learns in the early grades.
People become scientists only through their particular talents,
revealed by their choice of vocation, which are certain to appear
at maturity if there is a true art of education. Through their gifts!
That is, if one has the gifts necessary for a botanist, one can
become a botanist, and if one has the gifts necessary for a zoolo-
gist, one can become a zoologist. This can result only from the
gifts of the children in question, which is to say, through prede-
termined karma. This must come about by our recognizing that
one child has the makings of a botanist and another the makings
of a zoologist. It must never be the result of forming our elemen-
tary school lessons in any way as a preparation for special scien-
tific activity. Just think what has been happening. Our scientists,
sad to say, have been taking on the field of pedagogy; people who
have trained themselves to think scientifically have been engag-
ing in education, have taken a most important part in deciding
educational questions. The opinion is that the teacher as such has
something in common with the scientist; a scientific training has

actually been accepted as valid educational training, whereas the
two should be completely and absolutely different. If the teacher
is a scientist, and makes it his or her business in a limited sense
to think scientifically (that one can do as a private person, but
not as a teacher), quite often something happens. The teacher
will cut a rather comical figure in the classroom and among the
students or colleagues; jokes will be made at his or her expense.
Goethe’s “Baccalaureus”2 in the upper classes is not such a rarity
as is usually supposed.
Today if we were to ask whether we would side with the teach-
ers when the students make jokes about them or uphold the
students, we would in the present state of affairs in education side
more with the students. The direction things have taken can be
best observed in our universities. What are the universities, actu-
ally? Are they institutions for teaching young men and women or
are they research centers? They would like to be both, and that
is why they have become the exaggerations they are today. People
even find it an excellent feature of our universities that they are at
one and the same time institutions for teaching and for research.
But this is just how all the muddle comes into education—it is
carried out by scientists, works its way into our highest educa-
tional centers, later finds its way down into the high schools, and
finally into the elementary schools.
However, it cannot be sufficiently borne in mind that the art
of education must proceed from life itself and not from abstract
scientific thought. It is peculiar that we have an educational meth-
odology with a wholly scientific direction, while quite forgotten is
what can be found in Herder, in Fichte, in Jean-Paul, in Schiller,
and other great individuals, reminding us that there is really a
2. Faust, Part 2, Act 2. A student highly scornful of all his professors.

way of educating drawn directly from life, that is a life-infused

education.
It is, moreover, the world-historical mission of the Central
European peoples to cherish and develop this way of educating,
to make it their esoteric task to develop it. There is much that will
be possible for all humankind to do, working together; this must
happen if improvement in the social sphere is to come about in
the future. But what is emerging as an art of education from the
whole of the spiritual culture that is specifically Central Euro-
pean, the peoples of the West will not be able to understand. In
fact, it will annoy them. We can only speak to them about the art
of education when they have made up their minds to discover and
understand the esoteric foundation of spiritual science. All those
things people in Germany have looked at with such pride over
the last forty years, those things that have been considered such
major advances, are of no possible use to Germany itself; they will
just pass over into the dominion of the Western nations. There
is nothing to be done about it. We can only hope to awaken so
much understanding for the threefolding of the social organism
that the Western nations will take part in it.
However, we do have something to give the world from
Central Europe in respect to the art of education that no one else
can give, neither an Eastern nor a Western person. But we must
have the discretion to keep this in those circles that are able to
understand it; we must understand how to guard it with a certain
sense of trust, knowing that it is this guardianship that will make
our work effective. You must know what things to be silent about
in the presence of certain people if you want to obtain a result.
Above all, we must be clear that there is nothing to hope for from
the kind of thought coming to us from the West, which is indeed
indispensable in many other branches of modern civilization. We
must know that there is absolutely nothing to hope for from that
quarter for the art of education we have to develop.
Herbert Spencer has written something of unusual inter-

est about education. He has compiled a list of axioms, or “prin-
ciples” as he calls them, about children’s intellectual education.
Among these is one on which he lays great emphasis: in teach-
ing, one should never proceed from the abstract but always from
the concrete; one should always elaborate a subject from an indi-
vidual case. So he writes in his book on education, and there we
find, before he enters into anything concrete, the worst thickets
of abstraction, really nothing but abstract straw, and he does not
notice that he himself is carrying out the opposite of just those
principles he has argued are indispensable. We have here the
example of an eminent and leading contemporary philosopher
completely contradicting what he has just advocated.
You heard last year that our education is not to be built on
abstract principles, or on one thing or another that someone says
about “not bringing things to the child from outside but devel-
oping the child’s individuality,” and so on. You know that our
educational art should be built upon a real sympathy with the
child’s nature, that it should be built up in the widest sense on
knowledge of the growing child. In our first course of lectures
and then later in our faculty meetings, we have actually brought
together everything we need to know about the nature of the
growing child. If as teachers we can enter into the child’s unfold-
ing, out of this understanding will arise the insight into how we
need to act. In this respect, as teachers we must become artists.
Just as it is impossible for an artist to pick up a book on aesthet-
ics and then paint or carve according to the principles the writer
has laid down, it should also be quite impossible for a teacher to
use an “educational guide” in order to teach. What the teacher
does need is insight into what the child really is and is becom-
ing step by step through the stages of childhood. Above all we
should be clear about the following. Say we teach, beginning with
first grade, the six-year-olds. Every time we take a first grade, our
teaching will be bad and will have failed to fulfill its purpose if,
after working with this first grade for a year, we do not say to
ourselves, “Who is it now who has really learned the most? It
is I, the teacher!” But if we say to ourselves, “At the beginning
of this school year I had excellent educational principles, I have
followed the best teaching authorities, and have done everything
to carry out these principles,” if you really had done this, you
most certainly would have taught badly. You would have taught
best of all if each morning you had gone into your class in fear
and trembling, without very much confidence in yourself, and
then declared at the end of the year: I myself have really learned
the most during this year! For your ability to say this depends on
your actions; it depends on what you have really done, depends
upon your constantly having had the feeling that you are growing
while you are helping the children to grow, the feeling that you
are experimenting in the highest sense of the word, that you are
not really able to do so very much, but by working with the chil-
dren there grows in you a certain strong capacity. Sometimes you
will have the feeling that there is not much to be done with this
or that kind of child, but you will have taken trouble with them.
From other children, owing to their special gifts, you will have
acquired a certain experience. In short, you leave the endeavor
quite a different person than you were when you began, and you
have learned to do what you were incapable of doing when you
began to teach a year earlier. At the end of the school year you say
yes, only now can I do what I ought to have been doing. This is a
very real feeling! And hiding within it is a certain secret. If at the
beginning of the school year you had really been able to do all you
could do at the end, you would have taught badly. You gave good
lessons because you had to work them out as you went along! I
must put this in the form of a paradox. You taught well when
you did not know at the beginning what you had then learned by
the end of the year, and it would have been harmful if you had
already known at the beginning of the year what you had learned
by the end. A remarkable paradox!
It is important for many people to know this, but it is most
important of all for teachers to know it. For this is a special
instance of a general truth and insight: no matter what the subject
is, a knowledge that can be comprehended in abstract principles,
that can be represented by ideas in the mind, is of no practical
value. Only what leads to this knowledge, what is found on the
way to this knowledge is of practical value. The kind of knowl-
edge that is ours after we have taught for a year first receives its
value after our death. It is not until after death that this knowl-
edge rises into such a reality that it can shape our development,
that it can develop the individuality further. In life it is not the
ready-made knowledge that has value, but the work that leads to
this knowledge, and particularly in the art of education this work
has its own special value. It is the same in education as in the
arts. I cannot consider anyone an artist with the correct attitude
who does not inwardly acknowledge upon finishing a piece of
work: only now can I really do it. I do not think artists have the
right attitude if they are satisfied with any work they have done.
They may have a certain natural, egoistic respect for their work,
but they cannot really be satisfied with it. In fact, a completed
artwork loses a large part of its interest for the artist, and this loss
of interest is due to the particular nature of the knowledge we are
gaining while we make something. On the other hand, the living
quality in a work of art, the life that springs from it, originates in
the fact that it has not yet been transmuted into knowledge.
It is the same with the whole organism. Our head is as
“finished” as anything can be finished, for it is formed out of the
forces of our last incarnation; it is “overripe.” All human heads
are overripe, even the unripe ones—but the rest of the organism
is only at the stage of furnishing the seed for the head in our next
incarnation; it is full of life and growth, but it is incomplete. Not
until our death will the rest of our organization really show its
true form, namely, the form of the forces that are at work in it.
The constitution of the rest of our organism shows that there is
flowing life in it; ossification is reduced here to the minimum,
while in our head it reaches the maximum.
A specific kind of inward humility, the sense that we ourselves
are still only becoming, is something that will give teachers
strength, for more arises out of this feeling than out of any abstract
principles. If we stand in our classroom conscious that it is a good
thing that we do everything imperfectly—for in that way there is
life in what we do—we will teach well. If on the other hand we
are always patting ourselves on the back over the perfection of our
teaching, then it is quite certain we shall teach badly.
But now consider that you have been responsible for teach-
ing the first grade, second grade, and so on, that you have gone
through everything that has to be gone through, excitements,
disappointments, successes, too, if you will. Consider that you
have gone through all the classes of the elementary school; at the
end of each year you have spoken to yourself somehow in the
spirit I have just described, and now you make your way back
down again from the eighth to the first grade. Well, now it might
be supposed that you can say to yourself: Now I am beginning
with what I have learned; now I shall be able to do it right; I shall
be an excellent teacher! But it won’t be like that. Experience will
bring you inwardly to something quite different. At the end of the
second, the third, and each subsequent school year, you will say
exactly the same thing out of a right feeling: I have now learned
what it was possible to learn about seven-, eight- and nine-year-
old children by working with them; at the end of every single
school year I know what I ought to have done. But when you have
reached the fourth or fifth school year for the second time, again
you will not know how you really ought to have taught. For now
you will correct what you thought to be right after you had taught
for a year. And so, after you have finished the eighth school year
and have corrected everything, if you really have the good fortune
to begin again in the first grade, you will find yourself in the
same position—but now, to be sure, you will teach in a different
spirit. If you carry out your teaching duties with inwardly true,
noble, and not false doubts, you will find that your diffidence has
brought you an imponderable power that will make you pecu-
liarly fitted to accomplish more with the children entrusted to
you. This is absolutely true. The effect in one’s life, however, will
really be only a different one—not one that is so much better,
just different. I might say that the quality you bring about in the
children will not be much better than the first time, the effect will
only be different. You will attain something different in quality
but not much more in quantity. You will attain something that
is different in quality and that is sufficient, for everything we
acquire in the way described, with the necessary noble diffidence
and heartfelt humility, has the effect that we are able to make
individualities out of human beings, individualities in the best
sense of the word. We cannot have the same class twice and send
out into the world the same copies of a cut-and-dried educational
pattern. We can, however, give the world personalities who are
individually different. We bring about diversity in life, but this
does not derive from the working out of abstract principles. The
diversity depends on the deeper understanding of life that we
have just described.
You can see from all this that what matters more than anything
else in a teacher is the way he or she regards this holy calling. This
is not insignificant, for the most important things in teaching and
in education are those that are imponderable. A teacher who enters
the classroom with this heartfelt conviction achieves something
different from one who does not. Just as in everyday life it is not
always what is physically large that counts but something quite
small, so it is not always what we do with big words that carries
most weight. Sometimes it is the perception, the feeling that we

have built up in our hearts before we enter the classroom.
One thing of special importance is that we must quickly strip
off our narrow, personal self like a snakeskin when we enter the
classroom. Teachers may go on through all sorts of experiences
between the end of class one day and beginning again on the next
because they are, as is sometimes said with such self-satisfaction,
really only human. It may be that they have been pressed by their
creditors, or have quarrelled with a spouse, as does happen. There
are things that put us out of sorts. Such disharmonies provide an
undertone to our state of soul, as do happy, joyous feelings as well.
The father of a pupil who particularly likes you may have sent you
a pheasant after he has been out hunting, or perhaps a bouquet
of flowers. What I mean is that it is quite a natural thing to carry
moods of this kind around with us. As teachers, however, we
must train ourselves to lay aside these moods and give ourselves
up entirely to the content of the subject we are going to teach. We
should really be able to describe a subject tragically, taking our
mood from the subject, and then pass over into a humorous mood
as we proceed with our lesson, surrendering ourselves completely
to the subject.
The important thing is that we should also be able to perceive
the whole reaction of the class to tragedy or romance or humor.
When we are able to do this, we shall become aware that all three
moods are of extraordinary significance for the children’s soul
life. And if we allow our lessons to be carried along by an alterna-
tion of humor, romance, and tragedy, if we pass from one mood
into the other and back again, if we are really able, after present-
ing something for which we needed a certain heaviness, to pass
over into a certain lightness—not a forced lightness, but one that
arises because we are living in our lesson—then we are bringing
about in the children’s soul life something akin to the in- and out-
breathing of the bodily organism.
As we teach, our object is not simply to teach with and for

the intellect, but rather to really be able to consider these various
moods. For what is tragedy, what is romance, what is a “melan-
cholic” mood? It is exactly the same as an in-breathing for the
organism, the same as filling the organism with air. Tragedy means
that we are trying harder and harder to draw our physical body
together so that in doing so we become aware of the astral body
emerging further and further out of it, owing to this contraction.
A humorous mood signifies that we paralyze the physical body,
but with the astral we do just the opposite of what we did before;
we expand it as far as possible, spreading it out over its surround-
ings so that we are aware, for example, if we do not merely look
at something red but move out into it, how we spread our astral
body over this redness and pass over into it. Laughing simply
means that we drive the astral body out of our facial features; it
is nothing else but an astral out-breathing. If we want to apply all
this in our teaching we must have a certain feeling for the dynam-
ics. It is not always advisable on the heels of something heavy and
sustained to go straight over into the humorous. However, we
can always find the ways and means in our lessons to prevent the
child’s soul from being imprisoned by the serious or the tragic,
and in extricating it, we will free it so that it can really breathe in
and out between the two moods of soul.
These are some introductory examples of the variety of moods
teachers should consider while teaching; certainly this is just as
important as any other specific aspect of education.
2
The Three Fundamental Forces in Education

IT is naturally not possible to educate or give instruction without a

kind of inward experiencing of the whole human being, for during
children’s development this whole human being needs to be consid-
ered far more carefully than later on. As we know, the whole human
being comprises within itself the ego, the astral body, the etheric
body, and the physical body. These four members of our nature by
no means undergo a uniform development; they unfold in quite
different ways. We must clearly distinguish between the develop-
ment of the physical and the etheric bodies, and that of the astral
body and the ego. The outer signs of this dissimilar development
express themselves—as you know from various indications I have
given here and there—in the change of teeth, and in the change
that in the male appears as the change of voice at puberty, and also
proclaims itself clearly in the female, though in a different way.
The essence of the phenomenon is the same as the voice change in
the male, only in the female organism it appears in a more diffused
form, so that it is not observable in merely one organ, as in the case
of the male, but extends over the entire organism. You know that
between the change of teeth and the change of voice, or puberty,
lies the period of teaching with which we are principally concerned
in the elementary schools, but the careful teacher and educator
must also pay close attention to the years following puberty.
The Three Fundamental Forces in Education 15
Let us call to mind what the change of teeth signifies. Before

the change of teeth—that is, between birth and the change of
teeth—the physical and etheric bodies in the child’s organism
are strongly influenced by the nerve-sense system operating from
above downward. Up to about the seventh year the physical body
and the etheric body are most effectively influenced from the
head. In the head are concentrated the forces that are particularly
active in these years—that is, in the years when imitation plays
such an important role. And what takes place in the formation of
the remaining organism, trunk and limbs, is achieved through
what rays down from the head to this other part, to the trunk and
the limb organism, to the physical body and the etheric body.
What radiates from the head into the physical and etheric bodies
of the whole child right into the tips of the fingers and toes, this
radiating from the head into the whole child is soul activity, even
though it emanates from the physical body. It is the same soul
activity that is later active in the soul as intelligence and memory.
Only later on, after the change of teeth, children begin to think
in such a way that their memories become more conscious. The
whole change that takes place in the child’s soul life shows that
certain soul forces previously active in the organism become active
as soul forces after the seventh year. The whole period up to the
change of teeth, while the child is growing, makes use of the same
forces that after the seventh year appear as intellectual forces.
Here you have an interplay between soul and body that is
quite real; the soul emancipates itself in the seventh year and
begins to function—no longer in the body, but independently. At
this point, those forces that come newly into being in the body
as soul forces begin to be active, and from the seventh year on
they are at work well into the next incarnation. Then whatever
radiates upward from the body is thrust back, whereas the forces
that shoot downward from the head are restrained. Thus, during
the time the teeth are changing, the most severe battle is fought
between the forces striving downward from above and those

shooting upward from below. The change of teeth is the physical
expression of this conflict between the two kinds of forces: those
that later appear in the child as powers of reasoning and intellect,
and those that need to be used particularly in drawing, paint-
ing, and writing. We employ upwelling forces when we develop
writing out of drawing, for what these forces really strive for is to
pass over into sculptural formation, drawing, and so forth. These
are the sculptural forces that, ending with the change of teeth,
have previously modeled the child’s body. We work with them
later, when the second dentition is completed, to lead the child to
drawing, to painting, and so on. These are primarily the forces
that were placed into the child by the spiritual world in which
the child’s soul lived before conception. At first they are active as
bodily forces in forming the head, and then from the seventh year
on they function as soul forces. Therefore in the period following
the seventh year, through authority in our teaching we simply
draw forth what had earlier been unconsciously active in the child
as imitation; at that time these forces had a strong unconscious
influence on the body. If later the child becomes a sculptor, a
draftsperson, or an architect—but a real architect who works
out of formative principles—it is because such a person has the
predisposition for retaining in his or her organism, specifically in
the head, a little more of the forces that radiate downward into
the organism, so that later on these forces of childhood can still
radiate downward. But if they are entirely used up, if with the
change of teeth everything passes over into the soul, then we will
have children without a talent for drawing, sculpture, or architec-
ture, who could never become sculptors.
This is the secret: these forces are related to what we have
experienced between death and a new birth. The reverence that is
needed to make education effective, something that can take on
a religious quality, will arise if you as a teacher are conscious that
when around the seventh year you call forth from the child’s soul
the forces that are used when the child learns to draw and to write,
these actually come down from heaven! The child is the media-
tor, and you are actually working with forces sent down from
the spiritual world. When this reverence for the divine-spiritual
permeates your teaching, it truly works miracles. And if you have
reverence, if you have the feeling that by means of this connection
with forces developed in the spiritual world before birth—a feel-
ing that engenders a deep reverence—you will see that through
such a feeling you can accomplish more than through any amount
of intellectual theorizing about what should be done. Reverence
will have an immeasurable formative influence upon the child;
the teacher’s feelings are certainly the most important tools of
education.
During the child’s change of teeth, then, transference of spiri-
tual forces is being enacted, forces that move from the spiritual
world through the child and into the physical world.
Another process takes place in puberty, but it is prepared grad-
ually through the whole cycle of years from the seventh to the
fourteenth or fifteenth. During this time something is stirring
to life in those regions of our soul that are not yet illuminated by
consciousness. Something is radiating continuously into us from
the outer world; we are unconscious of it, for our own conscious-
ness is only now being formed. What since birth has permeated
the child from the outer world, what has cooperated in building
up the body and has entered into the child’s formative forces is
now gradually emerging into consciousness.
These are yet different forces; while the sculptural forces enter
the head from within, these others now come from outside. Forc-
ing their way through the sculptural forces and descending into
the organism, they cooperate in what takes place, beginning
with the seventh year, in building up the child’s body. I can only
characterize these forces as those active in speech and in music.
They are forces of a musical nature that we take up from the

outer world, the world outside humankind, from our observa-
tion of nature and its processes, above all from observation of
nature’s regularities and irregularities. For everything going on
in nature is permeated by a hidden music, the earthly projection
of the “music of the spheres.” Every plant, every animal actually
incorporates a tone of the music of the spheres. This is also true of
the human body: the music of the spheres still lives in the forms
and structure of the body, but it no longer lives in human speech,
expressing the soul nature.
All of this the child absorbs unconsciously, and for this reason
children are so highly musical. They are taking all of this up into
their bodily organism. What children experience as formed move-
ment, as linear and sculptural elements, comes from within, from
the head; what children absorb as tone texture, as speech content,
comes from outside. Somewhat later, around the fourteenth year,
what is coming from outside works against the gradually develop-
ing spiritual element of music and speech coming from within. A
process of pressing them together—of compacting—takes place
in the girl’s whole organism, in the boy more in the region of
the larynx, where it causes the change of voice. This process is
brought about by an element from within, bearing more of the
nature of will that runs up against a similar will element coming
from outside; this conflict finds expression in the change of voice
and the other changes at puberty. It is a battle between inner and
outer forces of music and speech.
Up to the seventh year the human being is permeated on the
whole more by sculptural and less by musical forces—that is, less
by the inspiring music and speech forces that enkindle the whole
organism. But beginning with the seventh year, music and speech
become particularly active in the etheric body. Then the ego
and the astral body turn against this; an element of will battles
from outside against a similar will element from within, and this
becomes apparent at puberty. The difference that exists between

male and female has another outer manifestation in the difference
of vocal pitch. The voice levels of a man and woman coincide
only in part; the voice of the woman reaches higher, that of a man
descends deeper into the bass. This corresponds precisely to the
structure of the rest of the organism, formed out of the struggle
between these forces.
All this shows that in our soul life we are concerned with
something that at certain definite times also cooperates in the
building up of the organism. All the abstract discussions you
find in modern scientific books on psychology, all the talk about
psychophysical parallelism, are testimony to the inability of our
philosophers and psychologists to grasp the connection between
the psychological and the physical. The psychological is certainly
not connected with the physical in the manner set forth in the
senseless theories thought out by the psychophysical parallelists.
We should recognize the wholly concrete action of the psycho-
logical in the body and its reactions, one of which we will speak
of shortly.
Up to the seventh year the sculptural element works together
with the music and speech elements; then there is a change, so
that from the seventh year the relation between music and speech
on the one hand and the sculptural on the other is a different
one. But through the whole period up to puberty this coopera-
tion takes place between the sculptural, which emanates from the
head and has its seat there, and music and speech, which come
from outside, using the head as a conduit, and spread themselves
into the organism.
From this we see that human language, particularly its musi-
cal element, cooperates in shaping the human being. First it forms
us, then it stems itself, pausing at the larynx so that it does not
pass this entrance gate as it did before. For before, you see, it
has been speech that changed our organs, even down into the
bony system. And anyone who observes a human skeleton from

a genuine psychophysical point of view—not with the absurd
psychophysical thoughts of our contemporary philosophers and
psychologists—and considers the differences between the male
and the female skeleton, will see in the skeleton an embodied piece
of music performed by the reciprocal action of the human organ-
ism and the outer world. Were we to play a sonata and preserve
its structure through some spiritual process of crystallization, we
would have, as it were, the principal forms, the scheme of arrange-
ment, of the human skeleton! And that will, incidentally, attest
to the difference between human beings and animals. Whatever
the animal absorbs of the music and speech element—very little
of the speech, but very much of the musical—passes through the
animal, because in a sense the animal lacks the human isolation
that later leads to mutation. In the shape of an animal skeleton we
also have a musical imprint, but a composite of different animal
skeletons, such as one finds, for instance, in a museum, is needed
to provide a complete musical impression. An animal invariably
manifests a onesidedness in its structure.
We ought to consider such things carefully; they will show
us what feelings we should develop in forming our picture of
the human being. Just as our reverence grows if we cultivate our
connection and attunement with prenatal forces, we will acquire
greater enthusiasm for teaching by immersing ourselves in other
human forces. A Dionysian element irradiates, as it were, the
music and speech instruction, while we have more of an Apol-
lonian element in teaching sculpture, painting, and drawing. The
instruction that has to do with music and speech we will impart
with enthusiasm; the other we will give with reverence.
The sculptural forces offer the stronger opposition; hence they
are arrested as early as the seventh year. The other forces, coun-
teracting less vigorously, are arrested only in the fourteenth year.
You must not take this to mean physical strength and weakness;
I am referring to the counter pressure that is exerted. Since the

sculptural forces, being stronger, would overwhelm the human
organism, the counter pressure is greater. Therefore they must be
arrested earlier, whereas the musical forces are permitted by cosmic
guidance to remain longer in the organism. The human being is
permeated longer by the musical forces than by the sculptural.
If you let this thought ripen within you and bring the requi-
site enthusiasm to bear, conscious that by developing an apprecia-
tion for speech and music precisely during the elementary school
period, when the struggle we referred to is still raging and when
you are still influencing the bodily nature—not just the soul
nature—then you are preparing what will have an effect and be
carried even beyond death. We are contributing essentially to this
through everything we impart to the child in the way of music
and speech during the elementary school period. And this should
give us a certain enthusiasm, because we know that thereby we
are working for the future. On the other hand, by working with
sculptural forces we are in touch with what already lay in the
human being before birth, before conception, and this gives us
reverence.
We combine our own forces with those that reach into the
future and realize that we are fructifying the germ of music and
speech with something that will have its effect on these in the
future after the physical has been cast off. Music itself reflects the
music of the spheres in the air—only thus does it become physi-
cal. The air is in a sense the medium in which tones become phys-
ical, just as it is the air in the larynx that makes speech physical. It
is the non-physical in the air used in speech and the non-physical
in the air used in music that unfold their true activity only after
death. That is what brings about our enthusiasm for teaching, for
we know that we are working into the future.
I believe that in the future people will no longer talk to teach-
ers about education as they usually do today, but rather in ideas
and concepts that can be transformed into feelings. For nothing

is more important than that we are able as teachers to develop
the necessary reverence, the necessary enthusiasm, so that we can
teach with reverence and enthusiasm. Reverence and enthusi-
asm—these are the two secret and fundamental forces that must
permeate the teacher’s soul with spirit.
To help you understand all this better, I should like to mention
that the musical element is at home principally in the astral body.
After death we still carry our astral body with us for a time; and
as long as that is so, until we lay it aside completely—you are
familiar with this from my book, Theosophy—there still exists in
us after death a kind of recollection (it is no more than a memory)
of earthly music. In this way the music we receive during our
life works on as a musical memory after death—until about the
time the astral body is laid aside. Then in the life after death the
earthly music is transformed into the music of the spheres, and it
remains as such until some time before a new birth.
This will be more comprehensible to you if you know that the
music we take in here on Earth plays a powerful role in shaping
our soul organism after death, during the period of kamaloka.3
This is the comforting feature of the kamaloka time, and if we
know this, we are essentially in a position to ease for people what
the Roman Catholics call the fires of purgatory. Not, to be sure, by
removing their contemplation of it, which they must have. They
would remain imperfect if they could not observe the imper-
fect things they have done. But we introduce the possibility that
human beings will be better formed in their next life if during the
time after death, when they still have their astral body, they can
have many memories of musical experiences. This can be studied
3. The period after death when the soul is freeing itself from its inclination
toward physical existence in order to follow the laws of the spiritual world. See
Theosophy, chapter 3 or An Outline of Esoteric Science, chapter 3.
at a comparatively low stage of spiritual knowledge. You need only

wake up in the night after having heard a concert and you will be
aware that you have experienced the whole concert again before
waking. You even experience it much better when waking in the
night after the concert; the experience is very accurate. The point
is that music imprints itself upon the astral body, it remains there,
it still resonates; it remains for about thirty years after death.
Music continues to resonate much longer than speech; we lose
the latter comparatively quickly after death, and only its spiritual
extract remains. What is musical is preserved as long as the astral
body. The essence of speech can be a great gift to us after death,
especially if we have often absorbed it in the form I now frequently
describe as the art of recitation. When I describe the latter in this
way, I naturally have every reason to point out that these things
cannot be rightly understood without keeping in view the pecu-
liar course the astral body takes after death; matters must then be
described somewhat as I have done in my lectures on eurythmy.4
Here, you see, we must talk to people in more or less primitive
language, and it is really true that, seen from the point of view
beyond the threshold, everyone is actually primitive; only beyond
the threshold are they real human beings. And we can only work
ourselves out of this primitive state by working our way into spiri-
tual reality. This is also the reason for the constantly increasing
and primitive fury against the endeavors of anthroposophy.
Now I would like to point out something that should have
our particular attention in the art of education, something that
can be useful there—namely, that a certain characteristic is to be
noted in what I described as the first conflict in the child, whose
outer expression is the change of teeth, and in the later struggle
4. Rudolf Steiner, An Introduction to Eurythmy, Anthroposophic Press, NY,

1984.
whose equivalent is the change of voice. Everything that descends

from the head until the seventh year appears as an attack on what
is coming to the child from within in the nature of upbuilding
forces. And everything that works outward from within upward
to the head, countering the stream emanating from the head, is
like a defense opposed to the downward stream, which could be
considered as an attack.
It is similar in the case of music, but here what comes from
within appears as an attack, and what descends from above
through the head organism appears as the defense. If we did not
have music, frightful forces would actually rise up in us. I am
completely convinced that up to the sixteenth or seventeenth
century, traditions deriving from the ancient mysteries were active,
and that even then people still wrote and spoke under the influ-
ence of this aftereffect of the mysteries. They no longer knew, to
be sure, the whole meaning of this effect, but in much that still
appears in comparatively recent times, we simply have remnants
of the old mystery wisdom.
Hence I have always been deeply impressed by the words of
Shakespeare: “The man that hath no music in himself... is fit for
treasons, stratagems, and spoils!... Let no such man be trusted.”5
In the old mystery schools the pupils were told that what acts
as an attack from within us and must be continually warded off,
what is dammed back for the sake of human nature, is “treasons,
stratagems, and spoils,” and that the music that is active in us
is what counteracts it. Music is our defense against the luciferic
forces rising up out of the inner human being: disloyalty, murder,
and deceit. We all have disloyalty, murder, and deceit within us,
and it is not without reason that the world contains what comes to
us from music and speech, quite aside from the pleasure it affords.
5. The Merchant of Venice, Act 5, Scene 1.

Its purpose is to make people into human beings. One must, of

course, keep in mind that the old mystery teachers expressed
themselves somewhat differently; they expressed things more
concretely. They would not have said “treasons, stratagems, and
spoils” (it is already toned down in Shakespeare), but would have
said something like “serpent, wolf, and fox.” The serpent, the
wolf, and the fox are warded off from the inner nature of the
human being through music. The old mystery teachers would
always have used animal forms to depict what rises up within
us but must then be transformed into what is human. So it is
that we can achieve the right enthusiasm when we see the treach-
erous serpent rising out of the child and combat it with music
and speech instruction, and in the same way contend with the
murderous wolf and the tricky fox or cat. That is what can then
permeate us with true, intelligent enthusiasm—not the burning,
luciferic sort that alone is acknowledged today.
In recognizing the interplay between attack and defense, we
must remember that defense occurs in us on two levels. The first
is within ourselves, where a warding off appears in the change of
teeth in the seventh year. The second is what we have received
from music and speech when this wards off what tends to rise up
within us. Both battlefields are within the human being; what
comes from music and speech is more toward the periphery,
toward the outer world, and the sculptural tends more toward the
inner world.
But there is still a third battlefield, and that lies on the bound-
ary between the etheric body and the outer world. The etheric
body is always larger than the physical body, reaching out beyond
it in all directions, and here too is a battlefield. Here the battle is
fought more consciously, whereas the other two proceed more in
the subconscious. This third and more conscious battle reveals itself
when the other battles—the exchange between the human being
and the sculptural on the one hand and what pertains to speech
and music on the other hand—work themselves out and become

a part of the etheric body. Taking hold of the astral body, this new
force then moves more toward the periphery or outer boundary.
From this originates everything that shoots through our
fingers when we draw, paint, and so on. Painting is an art, there-
fore, that works more in our environment. The draftsperson, the
sculptor, must work more out of inner faculties, the musician
more out of devotion to the world. What presents itself in paint-
ing and drawing, to which we lead the children when we have
them draw forms and lines, is the battle that takes place wholly
on the surface; it is fought principally between two forces, one
working inward from outside, the other working outward from
within. The force working outward from within actually tends to
constantly spread a person out, tends to continue the formation
of the human being—not violently, but in a delicate way. This
force—I must express it more drastically than it really is, but in
this exaggeration you will see what I mean—this force, working
outward from within, tends to make our eyes bulge out, wants to
give us a goiter, to make our nose puff out and to make the ears
bigger; everything tends to swell outward.
Another force is present, however—one we absorb from the
outer world that wards off this swelling. And even if we only draw
a line—draw something—this is an effort to divert, through this
force working in from the outer world, that inner force which is
trying to deform us. It is a complicated reflex action, then, that we
execute in painting, in drawing, in graphic activity. In drawing
or in having the canvas before us, a feeling is actually glimmering
in our consciousness that we are rebuffing something that is out
there, that in the forms and lines we are setting up thick walls
or barbed wire. In drawing we really have such barbed wire by
means of which we quickly catch something swelling that tends
to destroy us from within, preventing its action from becoming
too strong. Therefore drawing instruction works best if it is based
on a study of the human being. If you study the motions the hand
tends to make—if, say, in eurythmy classes you have the children
hold the motions, the gestures they want to carry out—then you
have arrested the motion, the line that tends to destroy, and it
does not act destructively. So when you begin to have the children
draw eurythmic forms and then see that drawing and also writing
are formed out of the will that lives in gesture, you have some-
thing that human nature really wants, something linked with its
being and becoming.
In connection with eurythmy we should know that in our
etheric body we constantly have the tendency to do eurythmy; it
is something the etheric body simply does of its own accord, for
eurythmy is nothing but motions gleaned from what the etheric
body tends to do of itself. It is really the etheric body that makes
these motions, and it is only prevented from doing so when we
cause the physical body to carry them out. When we allow them
to be made by the physical body, these movements are checked in
the etheric body but react upon us, this time with a health-giving
effect.
These are things that affect the human being both in a cura-
tive-therapeutic and an educational way. They will be understood
only when we know that whatever is trying to manifest itself
in the etheric organization must be stopped at the periphery by
the movements of the physical body. In the case of eurythmy an
element more connected with the will is stopped; in drawing and
painting, it is an element more closely allied with the intellect.
Fundamentally, both are two poles of the same thing.
If we feel our way into this process and incorporate it into our
sensitive capacity as teachers, we will arrive at the third feeling
we need, which should permeate us through all our work in the
elementary school: when children come into the world, they are
exposed to things that we must protect them from through our
teaching. Otherwise they would flow too actively into the world.
A person always has the tendency to become weak and stunted in

soul, to make rachitic limbs, to become a gnome. And in teaching
and educating someone, we work at forming and individual. We
sense this formative activity best if we observe the child making
a drawing and we smooth it out a bit so that the result is not
only what the child wants, and not exactly what we want either,
but the result of both. If I can do this—improve what the child
scribbles with his or her fingers—in merging my feelings with the
child, the best results will come of it. And if I transform all this
into a feeling and let it permeate me, it will be the feeling that I
must protect the child from being absorbed too strongly by the
outer world. We must see that the children grow slowly into the
outer world and not let them do it too rapidly. We constantly
hold a protecting hand over the child; this is the third feeling we
teachers must cherish.
Reverence, enthusiasm, and a sense of guardianship, these
three are actually the panacea, the magic remedy, in the soul of the
educator and teacher. And if one wished to represent externally,
artistically, something like an embodiment of art and education
in a harmonious group, one would have to create it like this:
Reverence for what precedes the child’s existence before birth;

Enthusiastic anticipation of what follows it, after death;
Protective gesture for what the child experiences during life.6
In this formulation the outward manifestation of the teacher’s

nature also comes to expression.
6. Rudolf Steiner accompanied each of these phrases with a gesture. The

following description is attributed to Caroline von Heydebrandt: the gesture
for reverence, hands folded in prayer (in the stenographic record: two hands
inclining upward with the finger tips toward each other); the gesture for
enthusiasm, hand outstretched, pointing; the protective feeling, the right arm
[encircling] as in the eurythmy gesture for “B.”
In speaking of such matters, drawn from the intimacies of

world mysteries, we sense how unsatisfactory it must always be
to use conventional language. If one must say such things in
ordinary language, one always has the feeling that a corollary
or supplement is needed. What is spoken more abstractly always
wants to pass over into the artistic. That is why I wanted to make
this final point.
We must learn to carry within us something that everyone
in the future will feel: the possession of science alone makes the
human being into what resembles a dwarf in soul and spirit. A
scientist pure and simple will not have the impulse—not even in
the forming of his or her thoughts—to transform the scientific
into the artistic. But only through the artistic do we grasp the
world. Goethe’s words will always be true: “He to whom Nature
begins to reveal her manifest secrets feels an irresistible longing
for her most worthy interpreter, Art.”
As educators we should be able to perceive that as far as you
are only a scientist, you might as well be an ignoramus! Not until
you have transformed your organism of soul, spirit, and body,
when your knowledge assumes an artistic form, will you become
a human being. Our future development—and in this teachers
will have to play their part—will lead from science to artistic
understanding, from a deformed being to the attainment of full
humanity.
3
Supersensible Physiology in Education

IT is essential in life to have the relationships with our surroundings

in proper order. We can eat and digest suitable foods furnished by
the outside world, but we would be poorly nourished if we ate food
already partially digested by other people. The important point is
that when we receive things from outside us in a definite form, they
acquire value for our life because we need to work on them. It is
the same at higher levels too, for example, in the art of education.
Here the important thing is to know first what we should learn
and then, in the light of what we have learned, what we ourselves
must actually invent in handling our class. If one studies educa-
tion as a science consisting of all sorts of principles and formulas,
it means about the same thing in terms of education as choosing
to eat partially digested foods. But if we undertake a study of the
child, of the true nature of the human being, and learn to under-
stand children in this way, we take into ourselves the equivalent
of what nature offers us as nourishment. And in the practice of
teaching there will awaken in us, out of this knowledge of human
nature, the art of education in a quite individual form. In reality
the teacher must invent this art every moment. That is the point I
wished to make as an introduction to today’s talk.
In teaching and education there is a curious interweaving of
two different elements: the musical, tonal element that we hear in
Supersensible Physiolog y in Education 31
the world, and the pictorial in the world that we see. Of course,
other sense impressions are intermingled with what we hear and
what we see, and these can at times have a secondary importance
for the lesson, but they do not have the same significance as seeing
and hearing.
It is essential that we really understand what is actually going
on right down into the body. You know that modern science
distinguishes two kinds of nerves in the human being, the so-
called sensory nerves, which are supposed to run from the sense
organs to the brain or central nervous system, from which they
transmit perceptions and mental images, and the motor nerves,
which are supposed to run from the central nervous system to
the organs of movement, setting these in motion. You know that
from the point of view of spiritual science we have to challenge
this classification. There is absolutely no difference between the
so-called sensory nerves and motor nerves. Both are one and the
same—the motor nerves primarily serve no other purpose than
to make us aware of the moving limbs and the actual process of
motion the moment it happens. They have nothing to do with
stimulating the will. Therefore we can say that we have nerves
running from our periphery more toward the center and we
have nerves running from the center to the ends of the organs
of motion, but fundamentally these are one and the same nerve
strands. The essential point is only that there is an interruption
between these equivalent nerves, so that the active soul current,
streaming through a “sensory” nerve to the center, for instance, is
interrupted, as it were, at the center and there must jump across.
(This is very much like the passage of an electric spark or current
that jumps across an electric switch when the transmission is inter-
rupted.) It is a jump to the so-called motor nerve, which does not
change at this moment but remains the same as a sensory nerve,
except in one respect: the motor nerve is capable of becoming
aware of motion and of the moving limbs.
There is something that can give us an intimate insight into this

whole organic process in which soul currents and bodily happen-
ings interact. Let us assume, as a starting point, that we are look-
ing at a picture, that is, a perception conveyed primarily through
the sense organ of sight—a drawing, a form or shape of something
in our surroundings—in short, anything that becomes a posses-
sion of our soul through our eyes. We must now distinguish three
distinctly different inner activities that occur at this moment.
First we have perception as such; this perception takes place
within the organ of sight. Secondly, we must distinguish
comprehension, and here we should be clear that all comprehen-
sion is transmitted through our rhythmic system, not through
the nerve-sense system, which transmits only perception. We
comprehend what a picture is, for instance, only through the fact
that the rhythmic activity, regulated by the heart and lungs, is
carried through the cerebrospinal fluid up to the brain. In real-
ity, comprehension is transmitted physically by the rhythms that
occur in the brain and have their origin in our rhythmic system.
It is through breathing that we are able to comprehend.
How mistakenly these things are generally considered by
physiology today! It is believed that comprehension has some-
thing to do with the human nervous system, whereas in actuality
it is based on the fact that the rhythmic system receives what we
perceive and forms a mental picture of it, and then works further
on it. Because the rhythmic system is linked with our compre-
hension, the latter is closely related to our feeling. Those of us
who study and observe ourselves carefully will see the connection
between comprehension and emotion. Actually, we have to feel
the truth of something we have understood if we are to agree with
it. It is our rhythmic system that supplies the meeting place for
our comprehending knowledge and the soul’s element of feeling.
There is still a third aspect: to take in what comes to us in such
a way that our memory can retain it. With every event we have
to identify perception, comprehension, and an inward working

over of what we have understood so that our memory retains it.
This third element is linked with the metabolic system; the most
delicate inner metabolic processes going on in the organism are
connected with memory, with the capacity for remembering.
We must pay very careful attention to these processes, for as
teachers we have particular reason to know about them. Notice
what a different kind of memory pale children have compared
with children who have nice rosy cheeks, or how different with
regard to memory the various human races are. Everything of this
kind is dependent on the delicate organization and processes of
the metabolism. We can, for example, strengthen the memory of
pale children if, as teachers, we are in a position to see that they
sleep soundly, so that the delicate processes of their metabolism
receive greater stimulation. Another way of helping their memory
would be to bring about for them in our teaching a balanced
rhythm between mere listening and working on their own.
Suppose you let the children listen too much. They will manage
to pay attention and they will also understand, if they’re pushed,
for they’re breathing all the time and therefore keeping their brain
fluid moving—but their will is not being sufficiently exerted. The
will, as you know, is connected with the metabolism. If you let
the children get too much into the habit of watching and listening
without doing enough work by themselves, you will not be able
to teach them properly; mental assimilation is connected with the
metabolism and will—and the will is not active enough. You will
have to find the right balance between the children’s listening
and watching on the one hand, and having to exert themselves
independently on the other. The result of the children’s working
over by themselves what they have seen and heard is that their
will works into the metabolism and enkindles memory. These
are subtle physiological matters that will have to be grasped very
exactly by means of spiritual science.
All this has referred to the pictorial element, the visual expe-
rience of sight; it is quite different in the case of everything
that relates to the element of sound, to the more or less musi-
cal element. I do not only mean the musical element that lives
in music, which serves as the clearest and best example, but
everything to do with what we hear, with what lives musically
in language, and so forth. I include all of that when I speak now
of sound. However paradoxical it may seem, the process here is
the exact reverse of the one just described. The sense organiza-
tion in the ear is inwardly linked in a very delicate way with
all those nerves known to modern physiology as motor nerves,
which are in fact identical to the sensory nerves; everything we
experience as resonating sound is perceived through the nerve
strands embedded in our limb organism. Everything musical,
if it is to be perceived properly, must first penetrate deeply into
our whole organism—and for this the nerves of the ear are suit-
ably arranged—and then it must seize hold where the nerves are
otherwise reached only by the will. Those regions in the human
organism that convey memory of pictorial experiences are the
very ones that in the case of the musical, audible element give rise
to perception. Therefore if you look for the area in the organism
where memory of visible perceptions is developed, you will also
find the nerves that convey the actual perception of sound. That
is the reason, for instance, why Schopenhauer connected music
so intimately with the will. The will zones, where visual images
are remembered, are also the place where the perception of sound
as mental image arises.
The comprehension of sound as mental image also takes place
in the rhythmic system. That is what is so impressive about the
human organism, that these things intertwine in such a remark-
able way. Our visual images meet with our audible images and
weave themselves into a common inner soul experience because
they are both comprehended by means of the rhythmic system.
Everything we perceive is comprehended by means of the rhyth-

mic system; visual images are perceived by the isolated head
organism; audible images are perceived by the whole limb organ-
ism. Visual images stream inward toward the organism; audible
images stream from the organism upward.
You must combine all this with what I said in the first lecture.
If you are sensitive enough, it is not difficult to make the connec-
tion. Through the fact that the two worlds meet in the rhythmic
system, something arises in our soul that comprises both sound
experiences and sight experiences. The musical—everything
audible—is remembered in the same region where the visible has
its sensory nerve organs. These are at one and the same time the
organs that appear to be sensory nerve organs, as ordinary physiol-
ogy calls them, but in reality they are connected with the metab-
olism; they convey the delicate metabolism of the head region
and bring about musical memories. In the same region where the
perception of visible images arises, musical memory—in fact, the
memory of anything audible—comes about as well. In the same
regions where we perceive the visible, we remember the audible.
In the same regions where we remember the visible, we perceive
the audible. And the two cross over each other like a lemniscate in
the rhythmic system, where they dovetail and interlock.
Anyone who has ever studied musical memory—a wonderful
and mysterious thing, even though we all take it for granted—
will find out how fundamentally different it is from the memory
of something visible. This memory for music is based on a partic-
ular, delicate organization of the head metabolism; in its general
character it is also related to the will, and therefore to the metabo-
lism. Music memory and the memory of visual images are located
in different regions of the body; both, however, are connected
with the will.
When you have reflected on these things, you will be impressed
by how complicated the speech process is. Because the rhythmic
system is so closely linked with the speech organism, comprehen-

sion comes about when the speech process unfolds from within
and works outward. It comes to expression in a remarkable way,
and in order to make it clear I should like to remind you of
Goethe’s theory of color. Besides calling the red-yellow half of
the color world “warm” and the blue-violet part “cold,” Goethe
brings color perception and tone perception closely together. He
sees, as it were, a different kind of “sounding” in the red-yellow
portion of the spectrum from that in the blue-violet part, and
this connects, for instance, with major and minor in music—
that is, with certain more intimate aspects of tone experience. You
can find this in those of his writings on natural science that were
published from the unprinted material of the Weimar edition,
and were then added to the last volume of my Kürschner edition.7
We can certainly say that if we look into ourselves at these inner
processes in the same way that Goethe looks at and describes the
theory of color, we arrive at something remarkable. It is within
the human being, it is in speech that sound comes to life. Indeed,
the element of sound lives in speech but the sound is modified
in a definite way. I might say it is permeated by something that
“dulls it down” when we speak. This is not just a metaphor; we
have to do with actual processes when we say that in speech the
real tone has “color.” The same thing happens within us as it does
in the case of external color when we perceive it “tonally”—we do
not actually perceive tone in external color, but in a sense we hear
something sounding out of every color; the same occurs inwardly
when we listen. We do not see a color when we pronounce “ee”
or “oo,” any more than we hear tones when we see yellow or blue;
but we have the same experience when we feel color as we have
in sound when we hear the tones of speech. Here the world of
7. Cf. especially vol. 4, part 2, pp.102 etc., of Goethe’s Naturwissenschaftliche

Schriften, edited by Rudolf Steiner (Goethe to Johann Leonhard Hoffman).
sight and the world of sound interpenetrate each other. The color
we see outside in the world has obvious visual qualities, but also
a subtle tone quality that enters us in the way I described in a
previous talk. Speech coming from within us toward the surface
has an obvious tone quality, but also has a subtle color quality in
the various sounds, which rises upward to expression particularly
in children up to the seventh year, as I have told you. From this
you see that color is more pronounced in the outer world and
sound is more pronounced in the human inner world; cosmic
music moves beneath the surface in the outer world while beneath
the surface of sound within the human being there streams and
moves a mysterious astral element of color.
And now, if you rightly comprehend the marvelous living
organism that comes forth from the human being as actual
speech, you will feel, when you hear it, all the rhythms of the
astral body within the colorful air movements that pass directly
over into the words that sound forth from us. These rhythms are,
of course, also active in us in other ways, but here they become
strangely agitated, concentrate themselves toward the larynx and
receive their impulses, for instance, from sun and moon. All this
produces a certain play of forces in the astral body that comes
to external expression in the movements of the larynx. Now you
have the possibility to at least picture this: as you listen to any
kind of language, observe, if you can, the astral body, which at
once passes its rhythms on to the etheric body, making the whole
process more inward. If you could draw a picture of all this, you
would get only the intrinsic movements found in the human
organism; that is the eurythmy that is always being carried out
together by our astral and etheric bodies when we speak. There is
nothing arbitrary here; you would merely be making visible what
otherwise is constantly taking place invisibly.
Why would we do this at the present time? Because today
we must do consciously what we formerly did unconsciously; the
development of the human being consists in gradually bringing

down into the sense world what originally only existed in the
supersensible. The Greeks, for example, really still thought with
their soul; their thinking was entirely of a soul nature. Modern
human beings, especially since the middle of the fifteenth century,
think with their brain. Materialism is a perfectly correct theory
when applied to modern human beings, for what the Greeks still
experienced in the soul has gradually imprinted itself on the brain
and has become hereditary in the brain from generation to gener-
ation. Today human beings have started to think by means of the
brain’s imprints. They already think by material processes—in
short, they think materialistically. That had to come. However,
we must work our way upward again; we must add to these mate-
rial processes by lifting ourselves to what comes from the super-
sensible world. We now have to do the opposite of what occurred
when the soul was formerly imprinted into the body; that is, we
have to take hold—in freedom—of the spiritual-supersensible
through spiritual science. If the development of humanity is to
progress, we must undertake this consciously, this bringing down
of the supersensible into the sense world. We must consciously
bring the human body, this body of the senses, into visible move-
ment in a way that up to the present occurred invisibly, uncon-
sciously. We shall be consciously continuing along the path of the
gods if we take over their work of imprinting thought upon the
brain and convert supersensible eurythmy into sense-perceptible
eurythmy. Should we fail to do this, humankind would gradually
sink into daydreams, would become somnolent. Things would
come to such a pass that although various influences would flow
from the spiritual worlds into the human ego and astral body, this
would happen only during sleep, and on awakening these influ-
ences would never be transmitted to the physical body.
When people do eurythmy, through their movements the phys-
ical organism becomes a receptive organ for the spiritual world,
for the movements that want to come down from there. By prepar-
ing themselves for this, eurythmists become receptive to what is
directed out of the spiritual world. For the audience, the move-
ments living in their astral body and ego are intensified through
experiencing eurythmy movements in visible form. If you were
suddenly to wake up in the night after a eurythmy performance,
you would find that you felt much more satisfaction inwardly than
if you had awakened after hearing a sonata at an evening concert.
Eurythmy has an even stronger effect; it strengthens the soul by
bringing it into living contact with the supersensible. A certain
healthy balance, however, must be maintained, for if you have too
much of it, the soul will fidget about in the spiritual world at night
when one should sleep, and this restlessness in the soul would be
the counterpart of physical nervousness.
You see how such things suggest an ever more real and active
perception of this marvelous structure, our human organism. We
become aware, on the one hand, that nothing exists in our body
that is not permeated with spirit; on the other hand we see that
the spirit and the soul aspire not to remain separated from physi-
cal experience. And it is especially interesting to allow everything
I have presented today to work on you; let it invigorate you. For
instance, in active meditation you can form for yourself a mental
image of the musical life within us in the will region of visual
experience; then meditate further on the existence of musical
memory in the thought region of visual experience—and vice
versa, connect what is in the region where we have mental images
of the audible with what is in the region of the memory of visual
experience. If you bring all these things together and form mental
images of them in active meditation, you can be sure that the
vigorous power of ingenuity you need when facing the children
you are educating will be kindled in you.
Ideas like these, stemming from a spiritual-scientific method
of education, have as their aim a more intimate knowledge of the
human being. When you meditate on them, you cannot halt their
continued effect within yourself. You see, when you eat a piece
of bread and butter, first you are aware of a conscious action;
but what takes place when the bread and butter pass through the
complicated process of digestion is something you can affect very
little, yet this process takes its course and your general well-being
is closely bound up with it. Now if you study physiology as we
have done you experience it consciously to start with, but if you
meditate upon it afterward, an inner process of digestion goes on
in your soul and spirit, and that is what makes you an educator
and teacher. A healthy metabolic process makes an active human
being out of you, and in the same way this meditative digestion
of a true knowledge of the human being makes you an educa-
tor. You simply face the children as their teacher in an entirely
different way if you have experienced what results from a genuine,
spiritual-scientific knowledge of the human being. What makes
us into educators actually grows out of the meditative work of
acquiring such knowledge. Such observations as we have made
today, if we keep returning to them if only for five minutes a day,
will bring our inner soul life into movement. We shall produce
so many thoughts and feelings that they will just pour out of
us. Meditate in the evening upon such knowledge of the human
being and in the morning you will know in a flash, “Of course,
this or that is what I must do with Johnnie Miller,” or, “This girl
needs this or that,” and so on. In short, you will know what to do
in every case.
In our human life it is important to bring about this sort of
cooperation between inner and outer experiences. You do not
even need much time for it. Once you have got the knack, in
three seconds you can get an inner grasp of things that will keep
you going for a whole day’s teaching. Time loses its significance
when it is a matter of bringing the supersensible to life. The spirit
simply has different laws. Just as everything contracts in a dream,
things we receive from the spirit can expand. In the same way, on
waking up you can have a thought whose time-content could fill
weeks but shoots through your mind in no time at all: so perme-
ating yourself through meditation with this spiritual-scientific
knowledge of the human being can bring you to the point when
you have reached your fortieth or forty-fifth year to carrying out
in five minutes the whole inner transformation that you need for
your teaching. You will be quite different then in ordinary life
from what you were before.
One can read about such things in the writings of those who
have experienced them. You can begin to understand them, but
you must also understand that what is experienced by a few indi-
viduals to an especially high degree, in a way that can then throw
light upon the whole of life, must take place on a smaller scale in
the teacher’s case.
As teachers we must take up for ourselves the study of the
human being; we must come to a comprehension of the human
being through meditation; we must keep in our memory the
nature of the human being—then the memory will become
vigorous life. It is not the usual kind of remembering, but one
that gives new inner impulses. In this instance memory wells
forth from the life of the spirit and carries initiatives over into
our external work. This is the third stage. Meditative comprehen-
sion is followed by active, creative remembering, which is at the
same time a receiving of what emanates from the spiritual world.
We start with an acceptance or perception of knowledge of the
human being; then comes comprehension, a meditative compre-
hension of this knowledge that becomes inward and is received by
the whole of our rhythmic system; finally, we have a remember-
ing of the knowledge of the human being out of the spirit. This
means teaching creatively out of the spirit; the art of education
comes about and takes form. This must become a conviction,
must become a direction of soul.
You have to see the human being in such a way that you
constantly feel these three stages within yourself. The more you
are able to say to yourself: there is my physical body, there is my
skin; they enclose the being who receives the knowledge of the
human being, who meditatively comprehends it, whom God
has blessed and invigorated through remembering it—the more
you have this feeling within you, the more you will be a genuine
teacher.
4
Balance in Teaching
WHEN we look at human beings and observe how they are consti-
tuted, and then apply this knowledge to the child, the developing
human being, the following picture comes to us. Out of the spiri-
tual world into this one comes—we could say, on astral wings—
the human ego being. Observing children in the early years of
life, how they develop; how by degrees they bring their physiog-
nomy from the depth of their inner being to the body’s surface;
how they gain more and more control over their organism; what
we see in this process is essentially the incorporation of the ego.
What really takes place here can be characterized in different
ways, two of which are already familiar to you.
I have recently emphasized how the organizing principle in the
physical body emerges with the change of teeth, frees itself during
this time, and shapes primarily the intelligence. That is one way
of describing the process. Another way, however, stated earlier
when the whole subject was brought to our understanding from
a different standpoint, is to say that the etheric body is born with
the change of teeth. The first birth is of the physical body but the
birth of the etheric body is not until about the seventh year. What
we call the birth of the etheric or formative force body can also
be seen as the emancipation of the intelligence from the physical
body, a two-sided description of the same phenomenon. We can
grasp the matter only by observing two such aspects at the same
time. In spiritual science nothing can be characterized without
approaching something from different sides and then combining
the different aspects into one comprehensive view. Just as little as
a single tone comprises a melody can a single characterization be
enough for what spiritual science describes. You must character-
ize from different angles. In former times people who understood
something about this called it “hearing the various explanations
sound together.”
What else happens? Into the etheric body or intelligence,
whichever you like to call it, into what has become free streams
the ego, which had already descended at birth and now works on
the etheric body, bringing it gradually into shape. In this period,
therefore, an intermingling takes place between the eternal ego
and the slowly liberated intelligence or nascent etheric body.
If we consider the next period, from the seventh year to the
fourteenth, or puberty, we can say that in a sense an element of
will, a musical element, is being absorbed. Described from this
angle, what happens is best described by the word “absorbed,” for
the musical element really has its being in the outer world. The
musical tone element being absorbed is indeed permeated by a
pulsating, vibrating impulse coming from what spiritual science
calls the astral forces. Thereby the astral organism becomes freed
from its former connection with the child’s total organization.
We can then say with regard to the child that at puberty the birth
of the astral body takes place. But again it is the ego, the eternal
element, that unites itself with what is being freed, so that from
birth to puberty—that is, up to the age of fourteen or later—we
have a continuous anchoring of the ego in the entire human orga-
nization. After the seventh year the ego settles itself only into the
etheric body, whereas previously, while the human being was still
an imitator—indeed, due precisely to this imitative activity—it
worked itself into the physical body, and later, after puberty, it
Balance in Teaching 45
establishes itself in the astral body. What we have then is a contin-

uous penetration of the human organization by the ego.
This whole array of facts has an immense significance for the
educator. Fundamentally speaking, all teaching and instruction
should constantly keep in view this integration of the ego into
the rest of the human organization as I have just described it. The
process of ego integration should be guided by an artistic educa-
tion, as I have indicated in an essay on education in the journal
The Threefold Social Order.8
What do I mean by this? I mean, for example, that the ego
must not be permitted to enter the physical, the etheric, or the
astral body too deeply, nor must it be too much excluded. When
the former occurs, when it combines too intensely with the human
organism, people become too materialistic. We will then think
only with our brain, will be wholly dependent upon our organ-
ism; we become too much body. The ego is unduly absorbed
by the organism, and this we must prevent through education.
We must try to avoid everything that permits the ego to be too
strongly absorbed by the organism or to become too dependent
on it. You will understand how serious this is when I tell you that
the cause of the criminality and brutality in people lies in the
fact that their ego was allowed to be too strongly absorbed while
they were growing up. When this has occurred, anthropologists
confirm what are called symptoms of degeneracy in criminals,
but these symptoms are frequently not discovered until they are
well developed in later life, revealing that the ego of these people
had become too deeply embedded in the rest of the organism.
In the case of a child born with so-called “criminal earlobes,” it
is all the more necessary to take special care that this does not
8. See “The Pedagogical Basis of the Waldorf School” in The Renewal of the
Social Organism (Aufsätze über die Dreigliederung des sozialen Organismus und
zur Zeitlage, GA 24), Anthroposophic Press, Spring Valley, NY, 1985.
happen. By means of truly artistic educational methods we can

prevent the ego from settling too deeply in the child’s organism
if there are symptoms of degeneracy. We can save such children
from becoming criminals.
We can, on the other hand, make the opposite mistake. The
difficulty here is like using the balances in scales: we can place too
much or too little weight on one side, and then we have to set the
balance right. It is just like this with facts confronting us in life.
In trying to rectify a mistake we may easily fall into the opposite
error. Living reality can never be expressed in rigid concepts, and
in dealing with a child it is the intimate elements of life that are
all-important. We must never develop one extreme or the other in
a one-sided way but rather the feeling that in education one has to
create an artistic balance.
When the teacher fails to induce a rightful fusion of the ego
with the rest of the organization, it can then happen that the ego
remains too far outside, with the result that the child becomes a
dreamer or a visionary, or someone who will be generally useless
in the world, living in the grip of fantasies. That is the other
extreme, the mistake of not letting the ego sink deeply enough
into the organism. But even children with a predisposition for
dreaming, for false romanticism, for theosophy in the wrong
sense, can be saved from becoming fanatics unable to cope with
life if the educator sees to it that the ego is not unduly excluded
from the rest of the organism but permeates it in the right way.
When one finds in a child the well-known characteristic of theos-
ophists, a small bump rising a little way behind the forehead that
all children inclined to theosophy bring with them, the important
thing is to discourage the tendency to faddism and sentimentality
by pressing the ego more strongly into the organism.
But how can we achieve these two necessary results? We can
accomplish something in both directions by discovering the
methods to cope with such needs, and these are the following:
Everything in teaching that requires one to form mental images

of number and space, like geometry and arithmetic, helps the
ego to settle itself well into the organism when the child forms
such images and works on them. Equally, everything in speech
of a musical nature, rhythm, recitation and the like, help in
this. Music, especially the training of memory for music, will
be specially beneficial for a somewhat fanciful child. These are
the methods we must use to work upon a child whose ego does
not seem to want to enter his or her organism properly, and who
therefore might easily remain a victim of too great enthusiasms.
When, on the other hand, we notice that children are becoming
too materialistic, that the ego tends to become too dependent on
the body, we need only have them draw those geometrical forms
that are otherwise grasped more by thought. The moment we let
the children draw geometrical forms we create the counterpoise to
an excessive absorption of the ego. You will see from this that it is
possible to educate properly when we use the subjects of instruc-
tion correctly. If a child—because of talent or other reasons—is
receiving special musical training and we notice that they are
becoming too dependent on their organism, that there is a certain
heaviness in their singing, we must try to guide them to practice
more spontaneous listening rather than musical memory. We can
always look for a balance in these tendencies, either by helping the
children to draw in their ego with the methods I have described,
or by preventing the ego from becoming too drawn into the bodily
organism. One of these conditions would certainly arise if we failed
to maintain the right balance. It is especially good when we try to
regulate things through the way we teach language. All the musi-
cal elements in language contribute to the absorption of the ego.
When I notice that this happens too strongly, I take up something
with the child that concerns rather the meaning and content of
language. In this case I will work in such a way that I call upon the
child concerning the meaning of things. In the other case, when
children are becoming dreamy or fanciful, I try to make them take

up more the rhythmic element of language, meter and recitation.
The teacher must acquire the ability to achieve this artistically,
and in so doing can develop a certain sensitive sureness.
Actually, there are whole subjects that help us when we want to
protect the ego from being sucked into the organism too strongly.
These are above all geography, history, and everything where the
emphasis is on the picture element and on drawing. In history,
for example, it is quite excellent to develop your story in such a
way that it engenders vivid sympathy in the children, so that you
call up in them veneration, love, or even hatred (provided the
personality under discussion is contemptible). This participation
of heart and soul is the important thing, and such a treatment of
history can do a great deal to prevent the children from becom-
ing too materialistic. But if through insight into child develop-
ment, which we must acquire, we notice that through an overdose
of this sort of history lesson the children begin to show signs of
fanciful dreaminess, we must try the other things that have been
described. And all this must be integrated within the curriculum.
It must be started at the right age, and therefore it is good to keep
our eyes on the children for years. If we see the children becom-
ing too dreamy through the stories of history, then, when the
right moment arrives, we must permeate the subject with ideas,
with the great interrelationships in history. In short: individual
treatment of historical events and personalities prevents the ego
from being absorbed too much by the bodily organism; illumi-
nating history with ideas that cover whole epochs stimulates the
entrance of the ego into the organism.
Too much drawing and too many pictures can easily lift the ego
out of the organism, with all the consequences we have described.
When a child shows signs of instability as a result of drawing,
painting, or perhaps even writing, the remedy is to have him or
her understand the meaning of what they have done. Have them
think, for instance, about the rosette they have drawn, or admire
the forms of the letters of the alphabet and thus become conscious
of them. While mere writing and drawing take the children out
of themselves, the observation of what they have drawn or written
brings them back again into themselves.
These things show us how we can use every detail correctly
in our teaching when we develop it truly as an art. It is of enor-
mous importance that we consider such things seriously. Take,
for instance, the teaching of geography. On the whole it tends
to prevent the ego from being drawn in too deeply, and we can
employ it with good effect with a child who is in danger of becom-
ing too materialistic; we will lead such a child to an active interest
in geography. On the other hand, if the child tends to become
too dreamy and romantic through lessons in geography, this can
be counteracted by making him or her grasp concepts such as the
differences in altitude above sea level, or by leavening the geogra-
phy instruction with other kinds of thinking more closely related
to geometry; that will bring the ego back into the organism.
The full value of all this will be appreciated only if we are
capable of looking deeply into the wonderful structure of the
human organism and its harmony with the whole universe. Just
imagine what we have been observing, that the development of
a child between birth and puberty is an interplay of the cosmic-
sculptural forces and the cosmic-musical forces—naturally with
the most diverse variations. Looking at the human constitution
you will find, as we have often pointed out, on the one hand the
physical body and the formative force or etheric body; these two
never separate between birth and death—they belong together in a
certain sense continuously from birth to death. On the other hand,
physical and etheric bodies separate, in falling asleep, from the
astral body—first of all, the etheric body from the astral body—
and upon awaking they join together again. The etheric and astral
bodies, we see, are less closely linked than are, for instance, the
physical and etheric bodies. And like the latter pair, the ego and
the astral body are closely connected and do not separate during
sleep. Well, what are human beings, then, through our physical
body here on Earth? We are beings who live in reciprocal intimacy
with the air around us. A given amount of air is at one moment
within our physical body, at the next outside it; we breathe in,
we breathe out. This breathing in and out reveals in a delicate
way the difference between our waking and sleeping conditions.
There is a subtle difference, and in matters of great importance it
is usually the subtle differences that are most significant.
What happens here through the interaction between the astral
body and etheric body takes place in our waking state and in sleep
as well. The interplay between the sculptural element and the
musical during the formative years is the continual and mutual
intervibration of the astral and the etheric bodies, in which the
ego vibrates with the astral, the etheric with the physical body.
You see, we human beings really breathe in our ego and astral
body upon awaking and breathe them out again upon falling
asleep. This is a sort of greater breathing process that we can
compare with the lesser one. Actually, every time we fall asleep
we emerge from our physical and etheric bodies and enter into a
more intimate relationship with the surrounding air, because our
ego and our astral body are then directly in the air. Awake, we
direct our breathing from within; asleep, we do it from outside,
from the soul. Consider that on the one hand the air, at least a
certain quantity of it, is at one moment within the human organ-
ism and then out of it, and on the other hand that the entire
human constitution, from the physical body to the ego, takes part
in the breathing process, and you will see why we must closely
observe the nature of this interaction between the human consti-
tution and the air in order to understand the human being.
You have probably all studied some chemistry, and you may
recall the patience with which reasonably conscientious teachers
explained to the children or young people that air, consisting of

oxygen and nitrogen, is not a genuine chemical compound but a
sort of mixture. In air, then, the coexistence of oxygen and nitro-
gen is less than a chemical compound; it is a looser connection.
How is this fact related to the human being? We find the cosmic
counterpart within us, in the loose connection between the astral
and etheric bodies. Were oxygen and nitrogen chemically united,
the etheric and astral bodies would also be inseparably joined
together, and we would never be able to go to sleep. The inner
relation between the astral and etheric bodies is mirrored in the
outer constitution of the air, and vice versa. The human being is
organized in accord with the cosmos. Within ourselves we are a
microcosm, although certain things that in the outer world are
ordered in a physical way in us are of a soul nature. Outside in
nature we are concerned with physical laws governing oxygen and
nitrogen; within us, with the laws of soul active in the relation-
ship of the etheric and astral bodies. When we look at human
beings and what happens within our organism—a scientist of the
spirit can observe this—we realize that when we breathe we have
in the marvelous vibrations, which we can describe as vibrations
of light, a swift intermingling of astral and etheric vibrations; this
is an inner process of inhaling and exhaling. On the other hand,
we see the same thing happening one step lower down in the
physical process of out- and in- breathing. Contemplating this,
we can positively see how human beings, as spirit-soul beings, are
constantly freeing themselves of their physical surroundings, just
as in a mixture the heavier parts become dislodged and fall to the
bottom while the lighter ones remain on top. Such processes take
place in many different forms in the human being. But we must
find them, as it were, among the things we observe, perceive, and
take into ourselves in order that we may understand them, and
then, in meditative remembering, as I explained yesterday, trans-
form them into artistic education.
There is something more that we must consider. What is it that

carries our ego into the physical world at birth when we descend
from the spiritual world? It is our head. The head is, so to speak,
the carriage in which the ego journeys into the physical world,
and when it arrives it transforms its whole condition of life at this
transition from the spiritual to the physical world. Paradoxical as it
may seem to one who looks at things externally, it is so that in the
spiritual world, before we prepare to be born here on Earth, we are
in a constant state of motion. There movement is our true element.
Should we wish to continue this movement, we would never be
able to enter the physical world; we are saved from this contin-
gency through the head organism, which adapts itself to the rest
of the organism. In a sense, then, our head becomes the chariot we
ride into the physical world, but when it arrives it comes to a halt
and rests comfortably upon the rest of the body. Even when the
rest of the body walks, the head does not join in; just as persons
who ride in a carriage or in a train are themselves at rest, the ego,
which before birth was in constant motion, comes to rest once it
has descended to Earth; it ceases to carry out its former move-
ments. This points to something of extraordinary significance.
When modern embryologists study the development of the
human embryo in the mother’s womb, they observe that at first
the head is large and definitely shaped in comparison to the other
amorphous members that take shape later, yet they proceed to
assume that all the phenomena are of uniform importance. In
this respect modern embryology is really rather limited—so
much so, in fact, that it is difficult to find common ground for
discussion with present-day physiologists. Their thinking works
on an entirely different plane. What matters is that fertilization
acts primarily upon the limb-nature of the human being, upon
parts other than the head. Essentially the head receives its config-
uration from the whole cosmos, not from the father. The human
head is in fact not conceived from the male parent but out of
the cosmos. Furthermore, the head as potentiality already exists

in the unfertilized human cell, in which the head—while still
under a cosmic influence—is affected by the fact that fertiliza-
tion acts first upon the rest of the organism. Not until the embryo
begins to develop do the effects of the embryonic development
work back upon the head. Thus we can discover even by studying
embryonic development quite externally, but by really studying
it, that the head forms itself out of the mother’s body before any
direct influence by fertilizing forces has been exerted. It is just
like building a carriage in a workshop, a carriage that is then to
carry a passenger; they come toward each other. In the same way
the head is prepared in order to receive into itself the descending
human ego. And for a long time after birth, really through all the
formative years, a human being bears traces of this confluence of
the human and the cosmic organizations.
When the spirit of the education we want to nurture here
has entered the teacher—I should like to say as a genuine soul
habit—a result will be that teachers facing a class will be enor-
mously fascinated by what takes place in the individual chil-
dren. Even between the seventh and fourteenth years—certainly
perceptible only to intimate observation—a distinct differentia-
tion can be made between a certain withdrawal or retreat of a
superhuman organization from the head and a permeation of the
head with forces streaming up and pouring in from the rest of
the organism. You must think all of this over in conjunction with
what I said in the first two lectures, because one thing has to be
balanced by the other.
It must always be interesting for the teacher to study the
difference between the sculptural form of the child’s head and
the structure of the rest of the organism, but one must look at
the two phenomena in different ways. If you want to consider the
changes that take place in the head you must bring yourself to be
a sculptor; but to consider the changes in the rest of the organism,
you must bring yourself to be a musician imbued with eurythmy.

As for the latter, there is no point in observing how the fingers
grow, for example, but one should note any changes in the kind
of motions the children make. That indeed reacts back upon the
shaping of the organism, though not through the structural but
through the dynamic elements. If someone has excessively long
arms or legs, these will be heavier than normal. It is not their form
that has a distinct effect, but rather the force of weight that they
work with, and it is this weight that mingles with the musical
forming of the movements. If we want to form a correct judgment
of someone whose arms and legs are so long that they don’t know
what to do with them, we must approach such a person with a
judgment alive to music, with an intimate judgment filled with
life; we must feel how the child’s legs keep crossing and recrossing
because they are too long and keep getting into each other’s way,
and therefore the motion is abnormal. Or the arms never know
what they are meant to do because of their excessive weight. How
wonderful it is to think that through spiritual science one gets to
know the human being so intimately by applying such knowl-
edge! One will then no longer observe matters from the stand-
point of the emotions as one had considered them before. When
we see someone with small hands and arms, we will immediately
say to ourselves: well, there’s no great urge in that person to hit
someone. But when arms and hands are too long and heavy, the
impulse to hit out must be charged to that person’s karma, their
destiny, and not judged from an emotional point of view.
Keeping such things in mind brings us much closer to one
another, especially to those who are still developing, for we will
discover a remarkable secret. Out of this person’s bodily form—as
you will be able to say when you study it as we have—I can deter-
mine how he or she has developed and the whole composition of
his or her soul. I find the significance of a certain shape of head, a
certain weight of arms and legs, and so forth. Whether someone
steps delicately along on tiptoe or—like Fichte, whose complete

figure bore witness to the fact—walks firmly, setting down his
heels, tells us an immense amount and gives us the feeling that we
are learning to know human beings much better. Of course, these
things do not reveal any personal or intimate secrets; they are
experiences we have with others in a human and social interac-
tion that become more intimate between teacher and child during
instruction. A feeling can also arise that whenever we meet some-
one there is something to learn about them when we see them
face to face, and something else when we see them from the back.
We should let life itself engrave in us our understanding of the
nature of life. For example, a student of Fichte’s who understood
life correctly would have looked at Fichte from the front during
his lectures in order to take in what he said; however, in order to
get to know Fichte’s character he would have had to look at him
from behind, for this would disclose his whole manner and build.
The formation of the back of his head, his back and hunched
shoulders, the way he moved his hands and carried his head, all
this fairly challenged the observer to see in Fichte precisely the
personality he was in the world.
Remarkable things come to light if you get to know children
in this way; that is, if you are the sort of teacher who is inclined
toward an understanding directed to matters of destiny and not
the sort who gets angry at emotional children, continually nags
at them to sit still and be quiet, and finally throws the inkpot at
them, saying: “I’ll teach you how to be quiet!” This is a rather
drastic way to put it, but even if the reaction were less radical we
teachers and educators must recognize it as wrong.
If we can get away from such behavior and direct our anthro-
posophical study of the human being more toward children’s
bodily form so that their organism tells us something of their soul
nature, we may come to know that we are treating them differ-
ently from the usual way. And wonder of wonders! By approaching
the children like this we learn to love them, and we shall gradually
understand them with greater and greater love. In just this way we
shall gain a powerful feeling of support for teaching and educating
the child lovingly. These are the ways we acquire the right feelings
and attitudes as educators and teachers. It would be a mistake to
believe, for instance, that one could become a composer by study-
ing a textbook on music theory, or learn to paint from a book
on aesthetics. A person doesn’t become a painter like that, but
rather by learning to use color, by acquiring the necessary skill in
handling color, and so forth. To become a sculptor one must learn
to understand the forms of an organism, and this is intensely inter-
esting in the art of sculpture or elsewhere. As a sculptor you will
have quite a different feeling when modeling a head from the feel-
ing you have when forming the rest of the organism. When work-
ing on the head you will constantly have the feeling that the head
is working on you from within so that you must retreat from it,
that something coming out of it is pressing against you. In model-
ing the rest of the organism, on the other hand, you feel that you
are pressing in, while this section of the organism is withdrawing
from you. So your feelings are exactly opposite in modeling the
head and modeling the rest of the body, and this shows how neces-
sary it is to learn the appropriate approach in every single case.
The same holds true in the field of education. If you expected
to glean how a class should be handled from a textbook on educa-
tion, it would be exactly the same as trying to become a painter
by means of a textbook on aesthetics. Nothing will come of it.
But if you put into practice the anthroposophical knowledge of
the human being as we are doing here, the talent for education
will take hold of you. Many more people have this potential talent
than you would imagine. Following this first step you will acquire
certain other qualities that every good teacher needs. There is no
subject on which more nonsense is talked today than education,
although so many people take an extraordinary interest in it; one
finds such talk particularly distressing because it affects the next

generation. But especially in education as in so many other fields,
popular slogans can be confronted by a deeper grasp of human
nature. We can understand well-meaning laypeople saying that
instruction must be a pleasure for the children, but even teachers
use the phrase, and it should be strictly discredited when passed
on by professionals! If you consider how it is in reality, you must
ask: how should a teacher go about making the children radi-
antly happy when there are particularly difficult things for the
children to overcome? Or think about what children are like and
realize that they have to be in school from morning till night:
how will you contrive to give them nothing but pleasure and then
more pleasure? It simply cannot be done. It is one of those phrases
coined by people who have no contact with reality.
The simple fact is that certain things give children no pleasure
and yet they must be done. For one thing, if teachers were to give
children nothing but pleasure, the children would be unable to
develop a feeling for duty, for this can only be achieved if we learn
to overcome ourselves. So it is not a question of “nothing but
pleasure,” but of gaining the children’s love through the art of our
educating, so that under our guidance they will do things they
dislike doing or even things that make them suffer a bit. Bring
love to your teaching, and if you succeed in awakening the right
kind of love in the children something besides joy will develop in
them. Loyal affection and devotion to the teacher will grow in the
children so that they come to feel: there are many difficult things
we must do, but for that teacher I will do the hard things.
You see that in looking at teaching and educating we have
arrived at a different method of working from what is commonly
thought to be pedagogical. What we have discussed here will
show you that we can overcome many of the difficulties in the
classroom by coming to understand how to create the right rela-
tionship between teacher and pupil.
PART T WO
Deeper Insights into Education

Preface
IN considering the beginnings of Waldorf education—now a move-

ment of over 900 schools worldwide—one may well be astonished
to find that Rudolf Steiner preferred to convey its revolutionary
thrust by word of mouth rather than by means of the printed page.
Over a period of almost six years (1919–1924) Steiner, traveling
widely in Germany, Switzerland, France, Norway, Holland, and
England, gave some 200 lectures on the Waldorf approach, speak-
ing to small groups of qualified teachers as well as to large public
audiences.
Important seeds had been planted in Steiner’s early years
through his own experiences as tutor and teacher. In 1907 he
formulated his views on education in an essay entitled “The
Education of the Child in the Light of Anthroposophy.”9 It was
not until twelve years later, soon after the First World War, which
left Middle Europe shattered, morally depleted, and financially in
ruins, that Steiner answered the call from Emil Molt, the owner
of the Waldorf Astoria cigarette factory in Stuttgart, to found a
school initially intended for the children of the factory workers.
Three mighty courses of fourteen lectures each (Foundations
of Human Experience, also called Study of Man; Practical Advice
to Teachers; Discussions with Teachers) given over a period of two
9. See The Education of the Child and Early Lectures on Education, Anthropo-
sophic Press, Great Barrington, MA, 1996.
62 DE E PE R I NS IGH T S I N TO E DUC AT ION
weeks (August–September 1919) to a group of twelve young, able,

enthusiastic teachers, launched the bold venture that was to grow
into a strong movement with schools in Europe, North America,
South America, Africa, Asia, Australia, and New Zealand. Steiner
became the director of the Waldorf School in Stuttgart. He was
tireless in giving his time and strength, entering into every detail of
the curriculum, the work in the classroom, the life of the students;
he counseled teachers, visited classes, and advised parents, all this
in spite of a host of other commitments in such fields as medicine,
agriculture, and social renewal.
In studying Rudolf Steiner’s educational work, a careful
distinction should be made between the courses given to the
first teachers of the Waldorf School in Stuttgart, who were well
prepared through a sound basis in anthroposophy, and those given
to public audiences that often had not the slightest background in
spiritual science.
Steiner emphasized that the Waldorf approach was a great deal
more than the application of teaching methods; this new art of
education was born out of a solid anthroposophical foundation,
out of a knowledge of the growing child as a being of body, soul,
and spirit. Today it would be said that Waldorf education is holis-
tic, that it aims at unfolding the capacities of hand, heart, and
head in the child according to the stages of child development.
The three lectures published here were given in 1923 to the
original teachers of the Waldorf School, who had received four
years of intensive training and practice under Steiner’s personal
guidance. They should be read with this background in mind;
their original and sometimes startling message will then be under-
stood more readily. For beginners, it may well be advisable first
to work through Steiner’s written work and some of the earlier
public lectures, for example, A Modern Art of Education, four-
teen lectures delivered in August 1923 in Ilkley, England; or The
Renewal of Education, fourteen lectures given to Swiss teachers
Preface 63
in April and May 1920 in Basel, Switzerland; or The Spiritual

Ground of Education, four lectures given at Manchester College,
Oxford, England, in August 1922. It should be mentioned that
many invaluable indications on education will also be found in
Steiner’s lectures on the social question, the arts, medicine, cura-
tive education, and the sciences.
Serious readers will readily become aware that Steiner’s compre-
hensive teachings are undogmatic in character. They are indica-
tions, seeds that parents, teachers, or anyone genuinely interested
in children’s development and well-being can make their own and
verify through experience. Rather than encountering a number
of easily applicable educational recipes, they will find themselves
engaged in a process of discovery in the realm of childhood and
adolescence.
René M. Querido
1
Gymnast, Rhetorician, Professor:

A Living Synthesis
STUTTGART — OCTOBER 15, 1923
THE impressions I have gathered here in the school have prompted

me to use the short time I can be with you to say something that
emerges directly out of these impressions. After all, the fruitfulness
of our activity in an institution like the Waldorf School depends,
as does indeed the art of education as a whole, on the ability of
the teachers to develop the attitude that will enable them to carry
through their work with assurance and be active in the right way.
On this occasion, therefore, I would like to speak in particular
about the teachers themselves. I would like to preface what I have
to say with some brief remarks I made recently in a course for teach-
ers in England, though from a somewhat different point of view.
I shall then add a few things that will enable you, if you let them
work in the right way on your souls, to develop this right attitude
more and more. The question of attitude, or mood of soul, is very
much connected with the art of education. You may possess an
admirable mastery of the principles of teaching, you may be able to
work them out with intelligence and feeling, but what we are trying
to do will fall on fertile soil only if the general attitude that we take
with us into the school can be made into a harmonious whole.
We humans are threefold beings not only from the many
standpoints we have often discussed but also from those that lie a
little closer to the earthly than do the higher, spiritual perspectives.
This threefoldness reveals itself quite specifically if we focus on the

way human beings have developed their education. We need not
go back very far; indeed, if we went back to very ancient times our
view would have to alter somewhat. We need only go back to the
Greek era in human evolution, to a period that still stirs the minds
of those in our Western civilization. At that period we find that
the educator was really a gymnast, intent above all upon molding
pupils into maturity through the outer, physical, bodily nature.
However, we shall not properly understand the Greek gymnasts,
especially the earlier ones, unless we realize that they were quite
as much concerned with the development of the soul and spirit
as of the body. It is true that the Greeks laid stress upon physi-
cal exercises, which were all formed in an artistic sense, as the
means of bringing pupils to maturity. What is so little realized
nowadays, however, is that these exercises, whether dance move-
ments or some other rhythmical or gymnastic movements, were
devised in such a way that through the unfolding and expression
of rhythm, measure, and the like, spiritual beings were able to
draw near, beings who lived in the movements, in the rhythm and
measure in which the pupils were trained. While the pupils were
doing something with their arms and legs, a spiritual influence
passed from the limb system, including the metabolic system,
into the rhythmic and the nerve-sense systems; in this way the
whole human being was developed. Thus, one should not say that
in Greece primary importance was attached to the cultivation of
gymnastics, for this gives the impression that these exercises were
cultivated then as they are nowadays, that is, mostly in an entirely
outward and physical way. In fact, with the Greeks gymnastics
also included the education of soul and spirit. The Greek educator
was a gymnast; he educated the body, and along with the body the
soul and spirit, because he had the capacity, as if by magic, to draw
down the world of soul and spirit into bodily movements. The more
ancient Greek gymnasts were perfectly conscious of this. They had
Gymnast, Rhetorician, Professor: A Living Synthesis 67
no desire to educate human beings in an abstract, intellectual way

or to teach their pupils as we do today. We speak exclusively to the
head, even if we do not intend to. The Greeks brought their pupils
into movement; they brought them into movement that was in
harmony with the dynamic of the spiritual and physical cosmos.
In following the course of human evolution, we find that
among the Romans the art of cultivating the soul and spirit by
way of the bodily nature had been forgotten. They approached
the soul directly, and education took place especially through the
medium of speech, the faculty lying nearest to the soul element
in ordinary life. Roman education did, in fact, draw forth from
speech what was to form the pupils; the educator thus ceased to
be a gymnast and became a rhetorician. Beautiful speech was
from Roman times onward the essential element in education,
and actually remained so throughout the Middle Ages. Beautiful
speech—in forming words and in the consciousness that the word
is being sculpturally and musically formed—has its effect on the
whole human being. The most important principles of education
were derived from this consciousness. The Greeks had gone right
back to the bodily foundation of the human being, and from there
drew everything into the realm of soul and spirit. The Romans
concerned themselves with the middle part of the human being,
with the sublimated expression of the rhythmic system, with the
musical speech of poetry. They trusted that if speech were handled
properly, this musical and sculptural-painterly speech would work
downward into the bodily and upward into the spiritual. Intellec-
tual training also played no part in this form of education; special
importance was instead attached to speaking.
Then, from the fifteenth century onward, the rhetorician as
educator was gradually superseded by the professor [Doktor 10 ].
10. The German Doktor does not refer to a medical doctor in this context, but
to a scholar with a doctoral degree.
Even teachers who have only passed through a training college

nowadays are in this sense really “professors.” Hitherto there was
some justification for this, if indeed the ideal of the professor was
not held as it once was by a gymnastics teacher I knew well. He
felt extremely uncomfortable on any gymnastic apparatus but
loved to get up on a platform and hold forth theoretically about
gymnastics. His pupils sat crouched and bent on their benches
and listened to the gymnastics lectures. This sort of thing could
not have happened in any other institution, but in this training
college he could get up and lecture like this once a week. He felt
quite learned; he felt, in fact, like a real professor. The principle
that the basis of education lies not in the rhythmic system but
in the head, in the nerve-sense system, became more and more
prominent as humanity evolved from the fifteenth century into
the modern age. Hence it is not so easy today for teachers in the
Waldorf School to adhere to the principle that they should have
no desire to realize this ideal of the learned professor. I do not
mean this outwardly but inwardly. It is not easy, because it is a
normal part of modern consciousness to believe that something
is gained by becoming “learned.” In our civilization, however, a
healthy condition will be achieved only when we realize that to
be “learned” in this sense is actually harmful—and that far from
adding anything to a human being, it takes something away.
Though I am always delighted when someone nods intelligent
assent to the sort of thing I have been speaking about, I am also a
little uncomfortable about the nodding, because people take the
matter much too lightly. There is little inward inclination to lay
aside the doctorate, even if one does not have it oneself, even if one
only carries the attitude in one’s general consciousness. Further-
more, the trend that has caused the earlier gymnast and rhetori-
cian to be superseded by the professor is so much part and parcel
of modern civilization that it cannot easily be eradicated. It is in
education, of course, that we notice most clearly the unfortunate
effects upon a person who has gone through a doctoral training;

yet what has put the professor into a leading position in education
has been necessary for the entire development of intellectualism
in modern culture.
We have reached a point when we must cultivate the synthesis
of these three elements, for this division into gymnast, rhetori-
cian, and professor is yet another example of the threefoldness
of human nature, and it is above all in the realm of education
that this synthesis should be achieved. If we could manage things
ideally, the teacher should cultivate gymnastics in the noblest
sense, rhetoric in the noblest sense—with all that was associated
with it in ancient times—and also the professorial element in the
noblest sense. Then these three elements should be integrated into
a whole. I almost shudder at having to describe so dryly what you
must know in this regard and must receive in your hearts’ minds
[die Gesinnung], because I’m afraid it may again get distorted, as
happens with so much that must be said. It must not be distorted.
Teachers should simply realize that for their own art of education
they need a synthesis of the spiritualized gymnast, the ensouled
rhetorician, and the living, evolving spiritual element [das Geis-
tige], not the dead and abstract spiritual element.
The whole faculty ought to work together to assimilate these
things, to develop gymnastics in the noblest sense and also
what we have in eurythmy. If you really succeed in penetrating
eurythmy inwardly, you will experience for yourselves that there
is an active element of soul and spirit in every eurythmic move-
ment. Every eurythmic movement calls forth an element of soul
from the deepest foundations of the human being, and every
gymnastic movement, if rightly executed, calls forth in us a spiri-
tual atmosphere into which the spiritual element can penetrate
livingly, not in a dead, abstract way.
The rhetorical element, in the noblest sense of the word, still
has a particular significance for the teacher today. No educators,
in whatever sphere of education they may be engaged, should fail

to do their utmost to have their own speaking approach as closely
as possible an artistic ideal. The need for cultivating speech as
such should always be kept in mind. This is something that has
vanished so completely from human consciousness that in this age
of intellectualism professors of rhetoric are appointed at universi-
ties mainly out of an old habit.
Curtius was a professor of rhetoric at Berlin University, but
he was not allowed to lecture on the subject because lectures on
the art of speech were felt to be superfluous at a place of higher
education. He therefore had to discharge his duty in other ways
than by lecturing about rhetoric, though in his official appoint-
ment he still bore the title of professor of rhetoric. This shows
how we have ceased to attach any real value to the art of speech;
this is connected with our ever increasing disregard for the artistic
element as such. Today we usually think because we do not know
what else to do, and that is why we have so few real thoughts.
The thoughts produced in the style of our modern thinking are
the worst possible. The best are those that rise up out of an indi-
vidual’s humanness while he or she is engaged in some kind of
action. Good thoughts are those that evolve out of beautifully
formulated speech—when, out of such beautifully formulated
speaking, thoughts rebound in us. Then something from the
archangel lives in our thinking through the speech, and it is far
more significant that we be able to listen to this speech than that
we develop prosaic human thinking, however cleverly we might
do so. This can be achieved, however, only if we, especially those
engaged in education, clearly realize how remote modern think-
ing is from reality, from the world. We have, of course, produced
a splendid science, but the sad thing is that this science really
knows nothing; and because it knows nothing, it is driving the
very life out of human culture and civilization. We need not turn
into revolutionaries because of this, or go about shouting such
things indiscriminately in the world; what we need is to work out

of this consciousness in the school.
Not only has thinking gradually become more and more
abstract, but so has everything that relates to the content of the
human soul. At most, people are still aware that our highest soul
faculties originate in sudden flashes [einfällen], and are especially
proud when something occurs to them [einfällt] in this way.
Since people experience what may be the most valuable element
in their soul as something severed from the universe, they become
inwardly barren and lifeless, alienated from reality. Our musi-
cians compose music, they write melodies and harmonies, because
these happen to occur to them. Certainly one might think it quite
a good thing if such things occur to someone frequently in the
realm of music; but why do they occur to them? Why should
some melody suddenly occur to them out of nothingness? There
appears to be neither a human or cosmic reason that a melody
should occur suddenly to an individual who was born in and lives
in this or that time or place. Why? There is only meaning in it
when one has a connection with the cosmos in experiencing a
melody, when one experiences the connection with the cosmos in
experiencing a melody. One need not sail away into symbolism,
but the connection with the cosmos must be experienced. The
melody must really be “spoken” into us by the spirit of the world;
then it has meaning and does something to promote progress in
the world.
A great deal of ahrimanic influence can be found in the world
today; indeed, the evolution of the world would be impossible
without it. One of the worst instances of the ahrimanic, however,
is that in order to become a qualified professor one must write a
thesis. There is no real connection between writing a thesis and
becoming a professor; the only connection is purely external, ahri-
manized. Such things are taken seriously in our civilization today,
however, and force their way into education, because educational
institutions exert their influence from above downward, and the

whole mode of their organization is totally unsound. Merely to
say this sort of thing gets us nowhere, except to make us unpopu-
lar and create enemies for ourselves. In working here, however, we
should be fully awake to the fact that we are called to work out of
different premises.
Nowadays, for example, in lectures on the physiology of nutri-
tion, we would be told that potatoes—carbohydrates—contain so
much carbon, so much oxygen, and so on; that protein contains so
and so much carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, and nitrogen; fats, so and
so much nitrogen, and so on; that the various “salts” we consume
are composed of what nowadays are called the chemical elements;
and finally, that the amounts of carbon, oxygen, nitrogen, and so
forth that we need can be calculated. Thus is adduced the modern
theory of nutrition. It is exactly as though someone who wanted
to know how a watch comes into existence were first to ascertain
how gold is produced up to the moment when it is delivered to the
watchmaker, or how the glass for the watch is produced, and so
on. Such a person insists on getting to know the parts but never
on knowing what the watchmaker does with them. In all eternity
such a person will never really know anything about the watch.
He or she may be well informed about the glass, the hands, and
the materials comprising the watch, but knows nothing about
the watch itself. The same sort of thing is true regarding human
nutrition if people limit themselves to the knowledge that fats are
constituted of such and such chemical elements, carbohydrates of
others, and so forth. We begin to know something about nutri-
tion only if we can enter in a living way into the fact that what
we eat in a potato, for example, is related to the root. If we eat
something related to the root it is quite different from consuming
in flour something that is related to the seed, as in corn or wheat.
What really matters is not how much carbohydrate there is in a
potato or a kernel of corn. Rather, if I prepare a foodstuff from
seeds, from corn, this foodstuff has to be digested in the area of

the human being that extends to the lymph vessels, and reaches
the nerve-sense system in a condition such that it can provide the
foundation for thinking. When I eat a potato, which is related to
the root, it is not the human digestive tract or the lymphatic system
that reduces the potato to a state where the body can assimilate
it. No, here the midbrain is required, and when we eat potatoes
the task of digestion is imposed upon the midbrain. When we
eat a different kind of food this burden is not present. If we eat
potatoes in excess, we impose upon the midbrain the task of the
primary digestion; that is to say, we undermine the real function
of the midbrain in relation to the nerve-sense system, which is
to permeate thoughts with feeling [Gemüt]. We thus thrust our
thinking into the forebrain, where it becomes intellectual and to
some extent actually animal-like.
The essential point is not whether a potato, or cabbage, or
corn, is composed of such and such a percentage of carbohy-
drates. For a true physiology of nutrition all that is irrelevant.
What we really need to know is how these things actually work
within the human being. If we wish to develop a living grasp of
what the human being needs today, we must free ourselves from
all these things that can never give us true knowledge. The way
we talk about nature nowadays is not only misleading—it leads
us straight into emptiness of thought, emptiness of feeling.
Now you are all aware that there is a well-known process in the
human being by means of which carbon combines with oxygen
so that carbon dioxide is produced, that is, the mixture of carbon
and oxygen that we exhale. You will often hear this process talked
about as if it were a sort of inner burning, the same sort of thing as
when a candle burns. There, too, carbon combines with oxygen,
but to talk in this way is about as intelligent as to ask why the
human being needs two lungs; we might just as well substitute
two stones, two inorganic objects. If we mentally transfer into the
human being the outer process of burning, we think in the same

way we would if we viewed the lungs as two stones. The burning
that takes place outwardly in connection with oxygen is a dead
burning, an inorganic burning; what takes place in the human
being is a living burning, permeated with soul. Any process
that takes place outside in nature changes when it occurs in the
human being; in the human being it is permeated with soul; it is
spiritual. What carbon and oxygen do together within the human
organism bears the same relation to what happens outside as the
living lungs bear to two stones. It is more important to guide
one’s whole life of feeling in this direction than to ponder these
things; then in all realms of soul life one would come to a direct
experience of nature that could truly guide one from nature to the
human being. Nowadays people remain outside with nature and
do not reach the human being at all.
You will discover that if you speak to children with this kind
of feeling and attitude [Gesinnung] they will understand the most
difficult things as they need to be understood at their particu-
lar ages. If you rely on the accursed textbooks that are so popu-
lar, the children really understand nothing; you torment the
children, bore them, call forth their scorn. What you must do
is create a personal relationship to the world that is both living
and true to reality. That, above all, is what the teacher needs. I
would like to emphasize strongly at the beginning that teachers
should continually strive to bring to life in themselves what has
become dead in the course of civilization. One of the chief tasks
in Waldorf education is to bring life to knowledge, and to feel a
kind of repugnance for the way things are presented nowadays in
so-called scientific textbooks. After having conquered this stage of
repugnance we should be able to develop what really lives within
us and passes over to the children in a living way. We must begin
at this point with ourselves and then look at nature like this. A
good deal of courage is needed, because much of what is true is
regarded nowadays as sheer madness. Everything possible should

be done to develop this courage.
Think of a butterfly. It lays an egg, the caterpillar crawls out
and spins its cocoon, becoming a chrysalis, and finally the butter-
fly flies out of the chrysalis. These things are described in the
textbooks, but how? Without any consciousness whatever of the
wonderful mystery that really lies here. The butterfly lays an egg,
but it is essential that this egg be laid at the proper time of year
and that it be receptive to everything that works as the earthy, as
the solid or solid-fluid quality in nature. The most essential thing
for the development of the egg is the “salty” element. Then comes
the time when in addition to the earthy element, the fluid—and
with the fluid the etheric—takes over. The fluid element, which
becomes permeated with the etheric, passes over into the devel-
opment of the caterpillar that crawls out of the egg. When we
have the egg, we think primarily of the earth with the physical
element. When we have the caterpillar that crawls out of the egg
we see its shape. What crawls out is a being actually permeated
with the etheric, fluid-watery element, and that is what makes the
caterpillar into a caterpillar.
Now the caterpillar must develop its being in the air; the most
important thing now for the caterpillar is that it come in contact
with the light, so that it actually lives in the light-permeated air
but at the same time expresses an inner relationship to the astral
element, and with this relationship to astrality, absorbs light. It
is essential for the caterpillar to be exposed through its sensory
system to the rays of the sun, to the radiating sun with its light.
Next you see in the caterpillar what can be perceived in its most
extreme form when you lie in bed with the lights still burning,
and moths fly toward the light. There you have the apparently
inexplicable urge of the moth to sacrifice itself. We shall hear why.
The moth dashes into the light and is burnt up. Caterpillars have
the same urge regarding the radiating light, but they are organized
in such a way that they cannot hurl themselves into the sun. The
moth can hurl itself into the light. The caterpillar has the same
urge to give itself up to the light but cannot do so, for the sun is a
long way off. The caterpillar develops this urge, goes out of itself,
passes into the radiating light, gives itself up, spinning physical
material out of its own body into the rays of the sun. The caterpil-
lar sacrifices itself to the rays of the sun; it wishes to destroy itself,
but all destruction is birth. It spins its sheath during the day in
the direction of the sun’s rays and when it rests at night what has
been spun hardens, so that these threads are spun rhythmically,
day and night. These threads the caterpillar spins are material-
ized, spun light.
Out of the threads that the light has formed, that it has mate-
rialized, the caterpillar spins its chrysalis; it passes wholly into the
light. The light itself is the cause of the spinning of the chrysalis.
The caterpillar cannot hurl itself into the light but gives itself up to
it, creating the chamber in which the light is enclosed. The chrys-
alis is created from above downward in accordance with the laws
of form of the primal wisdom. The butterfly is formed after the
caterpillar has prepared the secluded chamber for the light. There
you have the whole process from the egg to the brilliantly colored
butterfly, which is born out of the light, as all colors are born out
of the light. The whole process is born out of the cosmos.
If the process that we see extended into a fourfoldness—egg,
caterpillar, chrysalis, butterfly—is in any way condensed, then
the whole is changed. When the process occurs inwardly within
the animal element, what remains is a being created out of the
light. You see, the only way we can really get to the essence of the
matter is to picture [vorstellen] the process artistically. It is impos-
sible to picture this process whereby the butterfly forms itself
from the chrysalis and is born out of the light unless we picture it
artistically. If you picture the process in accordance with reality,
you will find yourselves in a world of wonderful artistry. Just try
for yourselves and see how entirely different your consciousness is

if you know something in this way. It is a consciousness entirely
different from what you experience if you know something in the
modern, outer way, which really gives no knowledge at all. Every
detail becomes interesting if you allow yourselves, with soul and
body, to grow together with the cosmos in its work of artistic
creation.
Again, look at a tadpole with its resemblance to a fish; it breathes
with gills and has a fishlike tail to swim with. The creature lives
wholly in the watery element, the watery-earthly element. Then
the tadpole develops into a frog. What happens? The blood vessels
leading into the gills wither away, and the whole blood system is
rounded off inwardly. Through this rounding off, the lung arises.
The veins leading to the fishlike tail also wither away, but others
elongate into legs so that the frog can hop about on land. This
wonderful transformation of a system of blood vessels that at first
feeds the gills and tail, this extraordinarily artistic transforma-
tion into lungs and limbs, is a truly marvelous process. How is
it brought about? The first system of blood vessels, which feeds
the gills and tail, is produced by the earthly-watery element; the
second is produced by the watery-airy element that is permeated
glitteringly with light.
You can learn to understand how the elements work together,
but work together in an artistic way. If you reach this sort of
understanding of the natural world you simply cannot help feel-
ing as if you possessed the creative powers within yourselves. You
cannot possibly be like most people nowadays when they study
modern science. They are really not fully human. They just sit
with their heads unhappily in their hands and strain their brains;
study exhausts them. This is all unnatural; it is really nonsensical.
It is just as if eating were to make us tired—but that happens only
when we eat too much. Surely it is impossible to be wearied by
anything that is so intimately bound up with the human being as
this living-together of nature, spirit, and soul. Yet I have known

many people who have been keen students, have written books,
but have suffered from anemia of the brain. It is really the same
as when a person suffers from anemia in some other part of the
organism. No one can suffer from anemia of the brain who sees
things in the way I have described, in their true relation to reality.
This is something that brings us to life inwardly, which is what
we need above all else in our work as teachers. We must relate
ourselves directly to life, and anything we are going to introduce
in our teaching should sustain and uphold us inwardly, should
truly enliven us. This is why no true teaching can ever be boring.
How could it be? One might as well expect children to find eating
and drinking boring, which usually does not happen unless a
child is ill. If our teaching is boring there must be something
wrong with it, and we ought to ask ourselves in every case (unless
we are dealing with a really psychopathic child) what is lacking in
us when our teaching bores the children.
These are things that really matter, and we must realize,
my dear friends, that we should neglect no single opportunity
to quicken the inner life of soul and spirit; otherwise we cannot
teach. However erudite we may be, we cannot be good teachers.
This is connected with what I described as our task to bring about
the synthesis of roles that in successive stages of world evolution
were separate: the gymnast, the rhetorician, and the professor.
It is especially necessary today that we not allow the last relics
that still live in the genius of our language, which can have an
effect upon our whole human nature, to vanish, but that we try
to bring a musical, sculptural-painterly quality into speech so that
what comes to expression in speech may again work back upon
us. We should therefore make it one of the primary demands on
ourselves that we never speak in a slovenly way in the school but
really form and mold our speech so that as teachers our speech has
something artistic about it. This may require some exertion, but
it is of enormous significance. If it is achieved, there may flow out

from the school an impulse for a revival, a renewal of civilization
through the synthesis of gymnast, rhetorician, and professor. We
must overcome the professorial quality—the learned knowledge,
intellectual knowledge—that is presently the most disastrous of
the three in all education. We can achieve something with chil-
dren only by being human beings, not merely by being able to
think.
This is the introduction I wished to give you today. I will
add something in later talks about matters that fundamentally
concern the teacher as a person, for the educational problem is in
many ways actually a problem of those who are teachers.
2
Forces Leading to Health

and Illness in Education
STUTTGART — OCTOBER 16, 1923, AFTERNOON
I have tried to show you that by permeating our knowledge with

anthroposophy it is possible to unfold a vital life of soul. We need
this vital soul life if we wish to have the strength for our teaching
and education. I would like to speak to you now about something
that is a preeminent goal to strive for in education, namely, that
through a particular orientation in educational activity, inner forces
can be gathered in order to fire the heart in an educational sense.
Today I wish to speak about the following question: which
forces are we really working with when we work educationally?
Actually, this question cannot be answered in any definite sense
by the culture of today. We can say, of course, that the outer life
human beings stand within, making it possible for them to earn
a living, requires them to have capacities that children cannot as
yet have. We must impart such capacities to them. Proper adult
behavior is perhaps also something that children cannot acquire
by themselves; it must be imparted to them through education.
But the answer to the question—why do we actually educate?—
remains something rather superficial in modern culture because
adults today don’t really see anything of great value in what they
became through the teaching and education they received. They
don’t look back with any particularly deep gratitude to what they
have become through their education. Ask yourself in your own
Forces Leading to Health and Illness in Education 81
heart whether this gratitude is always alive in you. In individual

cases, of course, it may be present on reflection, but on the whole we
do not think with deep gratitude about our own education because
the human soul [Gemüt] does not fully realize what education
actually means, nor which forces in human nature are quickened
by it. That is why it is so difficult nowadays to arouse enthusiasm
for education. All our methods, all our ingenious, formed, outer
methods of education, are of little value in this respect. Answers
to the question—how can this or that be achieved?—are of little
use. What is most important is for someone to have enthusiasm in
their work, and to be able to develop this enthusiasm to the full if
they are to be a true teacher. This enthusiasm is infectious, and it
alone can work miracles in education. Children eagerly respond to
enthusiasm, and when there is no response on their part it usually
indicates a lack of enthusiasm in the teacher.
As a kind of obvious secret, let me say that although a great
deal has been said about enthusiasm here, when I go through the
classes in the school I see a kind of depression, a kind of heaviness
in the teachers. The lessons are really conducted with a certain
heaviness, and this heaviness must be eliminated. Actually, it
may also express itself in artificial enthusiasm. Artificial enthu-
siasm can achieve nothing at all. The only enthusiasm capable
of achieving anything is that which is kindled by our own living
interest in the subjects we must deal with in the classroom.
Now, it is essential for you to realize that as teachers we need
to develop our own consciousness; we must work at cultivating
this consciousness. This effort to develop our own consciousness
is certainly made infinitely more difficult by the fact that in the
higher grades we must take into account the impossible demands
made upon our children from outside in preparation for gradua-
tion. This lies like a leaden burden upon the teaching in the higher
grades. Nevertheless, it is essential that we not lose sight of our own
goal, and therefore we must work to develop this consciousness,
the Waldorf teacher’s consciousness, if I may so express it. This

is only possible, however, when in the field of education we come
to an actual experience of the spiritual. Such an experience of the
spiritual is difficult for modern humanity to attain; we must both
understand and face this. We must realize that we really need some-
thing quite specific, something that is hardly present anywhere
else in the world, if we are to be capable of mastering the task of
the Waldorf school. In all humility, without any trace of pride or
arrogance, we must become conscious of this, but conscious of
it inwardly, deep in our hearts, not merely by talking about it;
within our hearts we must be able to become conscious of it. This
is possible, however, only if we have a clear understanding of what
humanity has lost in this respect, has lost just in the last three or
four centuries. It is this that we must find again.
What has been lost is the realization that when human beings
enter the world out of pre-earthly existence, compared with the
actual forces of the human being they are beings who need to be
healed. This bond of education with healing has been lost from
sight. During a certain period of the Middle Ages, certainly,
people believed that the human being, as man or woman on
Earth, was ill and that human health had to be restored; that
human beings as they existed on the earth actually stood below
their proper level, and that something real had to be done in order
to make men and women truly human. This is often understood
merely in a formal sense. People say the human being must evolve,
must be brought to a higher level, but this is meant abstractly, not
concretely. It will be interpreted concretely only when the activity
of education is actually brought into connection with the activ-
ity of healing. In healing someone who is sick, one knows that
something has actually been achieved: if the sick person has been
made healthy, he or she has been raised to a higher level, to the
level of the normal human being. In ancient times, those who
knew the world mysteries regarded birth as synonymous with an
illness, because when human beings are born they fall in a certain
sense below their proper level and are not the being they were
in pre-earthly existence. In comparison with the higher human
nature, it is really something abnormal for human beings to bear
within them the constituents of their bodies, to have to bear a
certain heaviness. It would not be considered particularly intelli-
gent today to say that compared with the higher nature of human
beings, it is of the nature of illness to have to struggle continually
until death with the physical forces of the body. Without such
radical conceptions, however, we cannot approach the reality of
what education means. Education must have something of the
process of healing. In order to make this clear, let me offer the
following.
The human being really lives within four complexes of forces.
In one we are active when we walk, move our legs with a pendu-
lum swing, or when we use our legs to dance or make other move-
ments. This movement, taking place in the outer, physical world
of space, can also be pictured as bringing about changes of loca-
tion in space. Similarly, other possibilities of human movement,
of the arms, hands, head, eye muscles, and so forth, can be desig-
nated as changes in location of an ordinary inanimate body—
that is to say, if we leave out of account the inner activity of the
human being. This is one complex of forces within which the
human being lives and is active.
The second is unfolded when we begin to work upon the phys-
ical substances we absorb; in the widest sense this includes every-
thing that belongs to the activity of nourishment. Whereas the
human limbs mediate what we have in common with beings that
change their physical location, there is another activity we need in
order to continue the activity connected with the outer substances
we absorb as nourishment. If you put a piece of sugar into your
mouth, it dissolves. This is a continuation of what sugar is in
the outer world. Sugar is hard and white. You dissolve it, and it
becomes liquid, viscous, and then undergoes further changes. The

chemist speaks of chemical changes, but that is not relevant here.
The sugar continually changes. It is worked upon and absorbed
into the whole organism. There you have a second kind of activ-
ity. This continues right into the rhythmic system, and then the
rhythmic system takes over the activity of the digestive system.
What happens in this second kind of human activity, however,
is very different from the human activity of moving the limbs or
of moving the whole human body in the outer world. The activ-
ity of nourishment is quite different from the activity exercised
when we move outwardly or, let us say, lift a weight. This activity
of nourishment cannot proceed at all without the intervention,
at every point of this activity, of the astral nature of the human
being. The astral nature of the human being must permeate each
individual part of this activity, of nourishment. In the activity
that I have described as the activity of walking, grasping, and
so on, we are dealing essentially with the same forces we make
use of that we can also verify physically. What really happens
in these movements is that the etheric organism is set in motion
and through its mediation arises a leverage movement that we
can see in an act of grasping or walking. If we focus on the activ-
ity of walking or grasping, we need only consider that which we
have in the physical world as it is inserted within the working of
the etheric; then we have what happens in the human being. We
never have this, however, if we consider the activity of nourish-
ment. This can arise only if the astral body takes hold of processes
that otherwise occur in a test tube. There primarily astral forces
must be at work, and no one ever considers that physical forces no
longer play a part in this process. This is exceedingly interesting,
because it is generally believed that in nourishment, for example,
physical forces are at work. As soon as the human being no longer
exists in relation to the outer world, the physical forces cease to
have their raison d’ être; they are no longer active, no longer have
any effect. In the activity of nourishment, the astral and etheric

forces work upon the physical substances. The physical effect of a
piece of sulfur or salt outside the body has no significance within
the body. The astral seizes hold only of the astral nature of a
substance, and then the etheric-astral is the really active factor in
nourishment.
Going further, we come to the activities that take place in the
human rhythmic nature, in the blood rhythm, in the breathing
rhythm. In their inner constitution these activities are similar to
the forces at work in the system of nourishment. They are the
result of cooperation between the etheric and the astral, but in the
activity of digestion the astral is in a certain respect weaker than
the etheric, and in the rhythmic activity the astral becomes stron-
ger than the etheric. In the rhythmic system the etheric withdraws
more into the background (though actually only the etheric that
is within the human being). The etheric outside the human being
begins to take part again in the activity exercised in the human
rhythmic system, so that with the activity of breathing one actu-
ally has the force of our inner etheric body, the force of the outer
ether of the world, and our human astral activity.
Now, picture to yourselves what is really going on when the
human being breathes. The physical activity of carbon, oxygen,
and so on is completely suppressed, but the combined working
of the etheric outside, the etheric within, and the astral is a most
important factor. This plays a great part. These are the forces,
however, that we must know in any substance if we wish to speak
of the healing effect of that substance. We cannot discover the
extent to which a substance is a remedy if we do not know how
that substance, when introduced into the body, is laid hold of by
these three systems of forces. The whole of therapy depends upon
knowledge of these three forces in connection with the substances
used. Knowledge of the healing influence in the outer and inner
etheric and in the astral is what constitutes therapy in the real
sense. What does it mean when antimony, for example, is used as

a remedy? It simply means that some form of antimony is intro-
duced into the body; it is laid hold of in a certain way by the inner
etheric forces, by the outer etheric forces that enter by way of the
breathing, and by the astral forces in the human being. We realize
the extent to which antimony is a remedy when we understand
the effect of these three systems of forces on a substance within
the human organism.11
In ascending to the rhythmic activity, therefore, we come to
recognize a much more delicate process than exists, for exam-
ple, in the activity of nourishment. It is essentially this rhythmic
activity that must be considered if we wish to recognize the heal-
ing effects. Unless we know how a particular substance affects the
rhythm of breathing or the blood circulation, we cannot under-
stand the nature of this substance as a remedy.
Now the strange thing is this. Whereas the doctor brings into
operation the therapeutic forces in the unconscious, in the rhyth-
mic system of the blood circulation or the breathing, as teachers
we must bring the next higher stage into operation: that which
is connected with the activity in the nerves, in the senses. This
is the next metamorphosis of the remedy. What we do as teach-
ers is really to work in such a way on the physical human being
that the substances that are taken up are subjected to the etheric
activity and to the outer physical activity—namely, to percep-
tion, whenever something is perceived—and to the inner physical
activity, that is to say, to the inner changes of location brought
about mechanically through human beings moving themselves.
Whereas the remedy contains the outer and inner etheric and the
astral, education contains outer physical forces (as in gymnas-
tics) and inner physical forces. When human beings bow their
11. Rudolf Steiner and Ita Wegman, Extending Practical Medicine, London,
Rudolf Steiner Press, 1996.
heads, a change takes place in their entire dynamic system; the

center of gravity shifts a little, and so forth. In the workings of
light upon the eye we have recognized outer physical forces in
their greatest delicacy and refinement. Moreover, outer physical
forces are operating when pressure is made on an organ of touch.
We therefore have etheric activity, outer physical forces, and inner
physical forces—that is to say, physical changes in the nervous
system, destruction in the nervous system. These are true physi-
cal processes that are actually present only in the human nervous
system. As teachers, we are essentially dealing with these three
systems in our work with the children. This is the higher meta-
morphosis of what is done in healing.
What kinds of activity are present in the human being? There
are the movements of walking, grasping, the movement of the
limbs, outer changes of location, the activity in the process of
nourishment, the rhythmic activity—which is through and
through a healing activity—and the perceiving activity, if we
regard it from outside. Regarded from within, educational activ-
ity is entirely a perceiving activity.
This will now give you deeper insight into the nature of the
human being. You will be able to say to yourselves: since factors
are active in the rhythmic system that are healing factors, there is
a doctor [Arzt] continually present in the human being. In fact,
the whole rhythmic system is a doctor. The function of a doctor
is to heal something, however, and if healing is needed there
must be illness. If that is so, walking, grasping, digesting must
be continual processes of illness, and breathing and blood circu-
lation a continual healing. This is indeed the case. In modern
science, however, where discrimination is lacking, no one realizes
that the human being is continually becoming ill. Eating and
drinking, especially, are processes that continually create illness.
We cannot avoid continually injuring our health through eating
and drinking. Eating and drinking to excess merely injure us
more seriously, but we are always injuring ourselves to a slight

degree. The rhythmic system, however, is continually healing this
illness. Human life on the earth is a continual process of becom-
ing ill and a continual healing. This process of becoming ill brings
about a genuine physical illness. What the human being does in
intercourse with the outer world, the consequences of walking,
grasping, and the like, is a more intense but less noticeable process
of becoming ill. We must counter it through a higher process of
healing, through a process of education, which is a metamorpho-
sis of the healing process.
The forces inherent in education are metamorphoses of thera-
peutic forces: they are therapeutic forces transformed. The goal of
all our educational thinking must be to transform this thinking
so as to rise fruitfully from the level of physical thinking to spiri-
tual thinking. In physical thinking we have two categories that, in
our academic age, give rise to a barren enthusiasm that has such a
terrible influence. We have only two concepts: right-wrong, true-
false. To discover whether something is “true” or “false” is the
highest ideal of those whose entire lives are given up to the world
of academia. In the concepts “true” and “false,” however, there is
so little reality. They are something formal, established by mere
logic, which actually does nothing but combine and separate. The
concepts “true” and “false” are dreadfully barren, prosaic, and
formal. The moment we rise to the truths of the spiritual world
we can no longer speak of “true” and “false,” for in the spiritual
world that would be as nonsensical as saying that to drink such
and such a quantity of wine every day is “false.” The expression
“false” is out of place here. One says something real regarding
this only by saying that such a thing gives rise to illness. Correct
or incorrect are outer, formal concepts, even regarding the physi-
cal. Pertaining to the spiritual world, the concepts of “true” and
“false” should be discarded altogether. As soon as we reach the
spiritual world we must substitute “healthy” and “ill” for “true”
and “false.” If someone said about a lecture such as the one I

gave here yesterday evening that it was “right,” it would mean
nothing at all. In the physical world things can be “right”; in
the spiritual world nothing is “wrong” or “right.” There, things
are reality. After all, is a hunchback “true” or “false”? In such a
case we cannot speak of right or wrong. A drawing may be false
or correct, but not a plant; a plant, however, can be healthy or
diseased. In the spiritual world things are either healthy or ill,
fruitful or unfruitful. In what one does there must be reality. If
someone considers that a lecture such as I gave yesterday is healthy
or health-bringing, that is to the point. If they simply consider it
“right,” they merely show that they cannot rise to the level where
reality lies. It is a question of health or illness when we are dealing
with spiritual truths, and it is precisely this that we must learn
in connection with education. We must learn to regard things
in their educational application as either healthy or unhealthy,
injurious to health. This is of particular significance if one wishes
to engender a true consciousness of oneself as a teacher. It may
be said that engendering this consciousness begins with passing
from the “true” and “false” of logic to the reality of “healthy” or
“ill.” Then we come quite close to understanding the principle of
healing. This can be developed in concrete detail, but we must
also let ourselves be stimulated by a comprehensive knowledge of
the human being, a knowledge of human beings in relation to the
world around them.
When modern science describes the breathing process, for
example, no particular weight is laid on the essential factor, on
the actual human factor. It is said that the air consists of oxygen
and nitrogen, leaving aside for the moment the other constitu-
ents. We inhale oxygen along with a certain amount of nitrogen.
We then exhale oxygen combined with carbon, and also nitrogen.
The percentages are measured and then people believe that the
essentials of the process have been described. Little account is
taken, however, of the essentially human factor. This begins to

dawn upon us when we consider the following. There is a definite
percentage of nitrogen in the air that is good for breathing, and
also a definite percentage of oxygen. Suppose a number of people
come to a region where the air is poor in nitrogen, containing less
than the normal percentage. If they breathe in this nitrogen-poor
air, this air gradually becomes richer in nitrogen through their
breathing. They exhale nitrogen that they would not otherwise
exhale in order to augment the nitrogen content of the air in the
environment. I do not know whether any account is taken of this
in physiology today. I have often pointed out that human beings
living in air that is poor in nitrogen correct this lack; they prefer
to take nitrogen from their own organic substances, depriving
themselves of it in order to augment the nitrogen content of the
outside air. They do the same with respect to the normal content
of oxygen in the air. Human beings are so intimately related to
their environment that the moment the environment is not as it
ought to be they correct it, improve upon it. Thus we may say that
human beings are constituted in such a way that we need nitro-
gen and oxygen not only for ourselves; it is even more necessary
that we have nitrogen and oxygen in certain percentages in our
environment than within our own organism. Our environment is
more important for our subconscious forces than the makeup of
our own body. The incredibly interesting fact is that through our
instincts human beings have a far greater interest in their environ-
ment than in the makeup of their own body. This is something
that can be proved by experiment, provided the experiments are
arranged intelligently. It is only a question of arranging experi-
ments in this realm. If our research institutes would only tackle
such problems, what a vast amount there would be for them to do!
The problems are there and are of tremendous importance. They
are terribly important for education, too, for it is only now that we
can ask why the human being needs an environment containing a
particular amount of nitrogen and a particular amount of oxygen.

We know that in the inner activity of nourishment or general
growth, all kinds of combinations of substances are formed in
the human being, revealing themselves in a definite way when
we become a corpse. It is only in this dead form, however, that
science today investigates these things.
Now the strange thing is that in the sphere of the human
being that encompasses part of the rhythmic activity and part of
the metabolic-limb activity, there is a tendency for an activity to
unfold between carbon and nitrogen. In the sphere that extends
from the rhythmic upward to the nerve-sense activity, there is a
tendency to unfold an activity between carbon and oxygen. It is
truly interesting, if one observes a soul-constitution not worn out
by dry scholarship, to see sparkling soda water, where the carbon
dioxide appears in the liquid as the result of the interplay of carbon
and oxygen. If one observes these bubbles one has directly and
imaginatively a view of what goes on in the course of the rhyth-
mic breathing activity from the lung system toward the head. The
bubbling effervescence in sparkling water is a picture of what, in
a fine and delicate way, plays upward toward the human head.
Looking at a spring of sparkling water, we can say that this activ-
ity of the rising carbon dioxide is really similar, only in a coarser
form, to a continual, inward activity within the human being that
rises from the lungs to the head. In the head, something must
continually be stimulated by a delicate, intimate sparkling-water
activity; otherwise, the human being becomes stupid or dull. If we
neglect to bring this effervescence of sparkling water to a person’s
head, then the carbon within him or her suddenly shows an incli-
nation for hydrogen instead of oxygen. This rises up to the brain
and produces “marsh gas,” such as is found in subterranean vaults,
and then the human being becomes dull, drowsy, musty.
To begin with, these things confront us as inner—one would
like to say—physical activities, but they are not really physical, for
the production of marsh gas or carbon dioxide becomes in this

case an inner spiritual life. We are not being led into materialism
here but into the delicate weaving of the spiritual in matter.
Now if, in teaching languages, for example, we make the
children learn too much vocabulary, if we make them memorize
through an unconscious mechanization, this process can lead to
the development of marsh gas in the head. If we bring as many
living pictures as possible to the child, the effect is such that the
breathing system lets the carbon dioxide effervesce toward the
head. We therefore play a part, in fact, in something that makes
for either health or illness. This shows us how as teachers we must
demand a higher metamorphosis of the forces of healing. To be
able to perceive these hidden relationships in the human organ-
ism kindles enthusiasm in the highest degree. We realize for the
first time that the head is a remarkable vault that can be filled
with either marsh gas or carbon dioxide. We feel we are standing
before the deeper wellsprings of existence.
In the next lecture we shall study another activity, with which
this activity must be brought into balance. This can happen,
however, only when there is on the one hand the right kind of
teaching in the musical sphere and, on the other, the right kind of
teaching in lessons that are based upon outer perception [Anschau-
ung], not upon the musical sphere. Thus, our teaching takes shape,
and our interest is aroused in the human being before us. To this
something else must be added: the feeling of responsibility. The
consciousness of a Waldorf teacher should be imbued with the
realization that makes him or her say in all humility: people are
let loose into the educational world today as if the totally blind
were sent out to paint in color. Few know what is really taking
place in education. It is no wonder that a blind person has no
particular enthusiasm for painting in color; no wonder there is no
real enthusiasm for education in the world! The moment we enter
into education in the way described, however, the whole art of our
education will provide the stimulus for this enthusiasm, and we

shall feel that we are in touch with the wellsprings of the world,
and find the true feeling of responsibility. We realize that we can
bring either health or illness. This enthusiasm on the one hand
and a feeling of responsibility on the other must both arise in us.
3
A Comprehensive Knowledge of the Human Being

as the Source of Imagination in the Teacher
STUTTGART — OCTOBER 16, 1923, EVENING
WHAT I wish to offer you in these lectures is intended essen-

tially as an impulse toward the inner enrichment of the teacher’s
profession. I would like to add the following to what I said this
afternoon. You see, we must bring our knowledge of the human
being to the point where we can really know in detail what is
going on in human beings during their ordinary activity in the
world. I have shown you that the first form of activity we perceive
in human beings is the movement of our limbs. Now we must
ask: what actually moves our limbs? Which force is at work when
we walk or do something with our arms? What is it? Now, the
materialistic view—which conceives of a person as a piece of
the cosmos consisting of blood, bones, and so on, described as a
human being—will simply be that it is we ourselves who move
the limbs! We are the true initiators of action! Fundamentally,
there is no sense in putting it like that since we ourselves are the
object in movement, are what is moved. If we ask who is the actual
subject, who is moving the arm or the leg, then we arrive at some-
thing spiritual, certainly not material. We are forced to say that it
is the spiritual itself that must bring physical forces, forces that we
usually designate as physical, into action. Our leg must be moved
by something spiritual just as, for example, we say that a piece of
wood is moved by us from one place to another.
A Comprehensive Knowledge of the Human Being 95
Here, however, we come to something remarkable that gener-

ally receives little attention, because a great illusion prevails regard-
ing it. Our human movement is really a magical effect, because in
it something is set in motion by the spirit. Our movement as a
human being is in truth a magical effect, and our view of the
human being is entirely incorrect if we do not associate the magi-
cal element with the movements we make. The will—that is to
say, something purely spiritual—must intervene in physical activ-
ity; these are in truth magical effects. When you walk, an inner
magician, something essential, is working within you. How does
this happen? The fact that we are physical human beings, made
up of bones, blood, and so forth, does not make us into moving
human beings; at best it is able to make us inert beings, beings
who lie permanently in bed. If we are to be able to move, the will
must be directly active. Materialistic science simplifies things by
theorizing about motor nerves and the like. That is nonsense. In
actual fact we have in human movement a magical effect, a direct
intervention of the spirit into the bodily movements. How is this
possible? This will become clear in the following.
I pointed out to you this afternoon that as the human life process
passes from the rhythmic system to the metabolic-limb system, what
comes out of carbon has an affinity for what comes out of nitro-
gen, and a continual tendency arises in the human being to create
combinations of carbon and nitrogen. This tendency exists, and
we shall never become clear about the digestive process itself, and
especially the excretory process, if this tendency toward the combi-
nation of carbon and nitrogen is not kept in mind. This tendency
finally leads to the formation of cyanic acid. As a matter of fact,
there exists from above downward in the human being a continual
tendency to produce cyanic acid, or at any rate, cyanides. There is
really no commonly accepted expression for what happens here.
What happens only goes so far as to just reach the point of coming
into being, and then it is immediately arrested by the secretions,
particularly of the gall bladder. Thus, in the lower part of the human
being there is this continual tendency to create cyanide combina-
tions that are arrested in their status nascendi by gall secretions. To
create cyanide combinations in human beings, however, means
to destroy the human being; the speediest method of destroying
the human form [Gestalt] is to permeate it with cyanide. This
tendency exists particularly in the direction of the metabolic-
limb system; the human organism continually wants to create
cyanide combinations, which are in turn immediately broken up.
At this moment between the coming into being and the immedi-
ate dissolution of the cyanide compounds, the will lays hold of the
muscular system. In the paralyzing of this process lies the possi-
bility for the will to take hold so that human beings can move.
From above downward there is always a tendency in the human
being to destroy organic substance through a kind of poisoning.
This is continually on the verge of beginning, and we would not
be able to move, we could never achieve any freeing of the will,
if this continual tendency to destroy ourselves were not present.
Thus, to express it in a grotesque way, from above downward we
have this continual tendency to make ourselves into ghosts and
thereby to move by magical means. When considering human
movement we must not limit our gaze to the physical body, but
must turn to the human will, to the calling forth of spatial move-
ments by purely magical means.
You see, therefore, every time people bring themselves into
movement they are faced with the responsibility of intervening
in the processes that are the actual processes of illness and death.
On the other hand, we must know that this process of illness is
opposed by the health-bringing process I spoke of this afternoon.
For everything that occurs in the processes that take place in
the lower human being there is a corresponding process above.
Carbon has the tendency to form nitrogen compounds down-
ward, but upward it has the tendency to form oxygen compounds.
Early alchemists called carbon the “stone of the wise,” which is

nothing other than carbon fully understood. Upward it has the
tendency to form oxygen compounds, acids, or oxides. These
stimulate the thoughts, and whenever we vitally occupy a child
we stimulate the formation of carbon compounds and therewith
the activity of thinking. Whenever we guide children into some
form of action while they are thinking, we call forth a state of
balance between the formation of carbonic and cyanic acids. In
human life everything actually depends upon producing symme-
try between these two things.
If a human being is occupied only with intellectual work, the
process of the formation of carbonic acid is too strongly stimu-
lated; the upper organism is saturated with carbonic acid. Now
a proper, intelligently conducted musical education counteracts
this excessive carbonic acid formation and enables the human
being to again bring some activity—inner activity at least—into
the carbonic acid process. By arranging a schedule so that the
teaching of music, for example, is interspersed among the other
subjects, we actually penetrate directly into the processes of illness
and health in the human organism. I am not telling you these
things today simply for the sake of the subject matter, although
I believe they are among the most interesting things that could
be found in physiology, for it is only in this way that we can see
clearly into the living activity of the substances and forces within
the human being. Processes of illness and health are continually
taking place in the human organism, and everything a person
does or is guided to do has its effect upon these processes. From
this knowledge must be created a feeling of responsibility and a
true consciousness of one’s purpose as a teacher. We must realize,
in all humility, the importance of our profession: that we help
to orient what are in the most eminent sense cosmic processes.
In fact, as teachers we are coworkers in the actual guidance of
the world. It is the particular value of these things for our whole
life of feeling [Gemüt] and for consciousness that I wish to stress

today.
By fully penetrating this, every one of our actions will take
on extraordinary importance. Think how often I have said that a
person will completely misapprehend the whole of human evolu-
tion if he or she persists in trivial pictorial instructions [Anschau-
ungsunterricht] and never attempts to introduce children to more
than they can already understand. Such teachers fail to realize
that a great deal of what they teach children in their eighth or
ninth year will be accepted only if the children feel themselves
to be in the presence of a beloved teacher, confronted by an obvi-
ous authority. For the children, the teacher should represent the
whole world of truth, beauty, and goodness. What the teacher
takes to be beautiful or true or good should be so for the pupil.
This obvious authority, during the period between the change
of teeth and puberty, must be the basis of all the teaching. Chil-
dren do not always understand the things they accept under the
influence of this authority, but accept them because they love the
teacher. What they have accepted will then emerge in later life,
say in the thirty-fifth year, and signify an essential enlivening of
the whole inner being. Those who say that one should merely
teach children trivial mental conceptions have no real insight into
human nature, nor do they know what a vital force it is when at
thirty-five a person can call up something he or she once accepted
simply through love for a teacher. Now you can see the inner
significance of what I have been saying. The human process that
is the equilibrium between the carbon and the cyanide processes
is essentially supported, made essentially more vital, by the fact
that something of this condition remains deeply embedded in
human nature in the same way that something that we may have
accepted lovingly in our eighth or ninth year remains hidden and
is understood only decades later. What occurs between recep-
tivity and understanding, what lies directly in the soul in the
process of balance between the lower and upper human being,

together with the corresponding action of carbon, has enormous
influence.
Of course, you cannot apply these things in detail in your
approach to teaching, but you can go into the classroom
supported by this knowledge and apply one aspect or another in
various realms of your teaching; if one has acquired this knowl-
edge, a definite result will follow. One can distinguish between
those who have knowledge that is inwardly mobile or inwardly
static. One who simply knows how diamonds, graphite, and coal
appear in nature outside the human being, and goes no further
than that, will not teach in a very lively way. If one knows,
however, that the carbon in coal, in graphite, and so on, also
lives within human beings as a metamorphosed substance; that
on the one side it acts only in death-bringing compounds and
on the other only in compounds of resurrection; if one speaks
not only of the metamorphoses of carbon, which in the vari-
ous stages of the earth’s evolution produced diamond, coal,
and graphite; if one realizes that there are different kinds of
metamorphosis of carbon in the human being that can become
inwardly alive, can be spiritualized, can mediate between death
and life; if one understands this, one has in this understanding
an immediate source of inspiration. If you can understand this,
you will find the right approach to teaching in school; it is essen-
tial for the right approach to occur to you; you should not stand
in the classroom with such a sour look that anyone can tell from
your expression that you stand before the children in a morose,
surly mood. Such a mood is impossible if you possess inwardly
mobile, creative knowledge. Then, in all humility, you will real-
ize the importance of the work, and this will reveal itself even
in your facial expression while teaching. Your expression is then
naturally illuminated by the etheric and astral and unites with
outer form to create a whole.
A teacher’s face has three main nuances of expression, with

any number of intermediate stages. There is the face with which
teachers meet an ordinary person, when they forget that they are
teachers and simply engage in natural conversation. There is the
face teachers have when they have finished their lesson and leave
the classroom; and there is the face they have in the classroom. We
may often be ashamed of human nature when we see the differ-
ence in the teachers’ faces when they are going into their class-
room and when they leave it. These things are connected with the
whole consciousness of the teacher. Perhaps it may comfort you a
little if I say that under the influence of an active, vital knowledge
every face becomes twice as beautiful as it is otherwise, but the
knowledge must do its work, the knowledge must live, and teach-
ers’ faces should always be alive, inwardly expressive, especially
when they are giving lessons. The importance in what I’m tell-
ing you is not that you should know these things, but that they
should work on your life of feeling [Gemüt], strengthening you,
giving you the vigor to spiritualize your profession.
Teachers ought to be conscious, especially nowadays, of their
great social task, and they should ponder this task a great deal.
The teacher, above all others, should be deeply permeated with
awareness of the great needs of modern civilization.
I will give you an example of what is needed in order to adopt
the right attitude in our civilization today. You have all heard of
Mahatma Gandhi who, since the war, or really since 1914, has set
a movement going for the liberation of India from English rule.
Gandhi’s activities began first in South Africa with the aim of
helping the Indians who were living there under appalling condi-
tions, and for whose emancipation he did a great deal before 1914.
Then he went to India itself and instituted a movement for libera-
tion there. I shall speak today only of what took place when the
final verdict was passed on Mahatma Gandhi, and omit the court
proceedings leading up to it. I would like to speak only of the last
act in the drama, as it were, that took place between him and his
judge. Gandhi had been accused of stirring up the Indian people
against British rule in order to make India independent. Being
a lawyer, he conducted his own defense and had not the slight-
est doubt that he would be condemned. In his speech—I cannot
quote the actual words—he spoke more or less to the following
effect, “My Lords, I beg of you to condemn me in accordance
with the full strength of the law. I am perfectly aware that in the
eyes of British law in India my crime is the gravest one imagin-
able. I do not plead any mitigating circumstances; I beg of you to
condemn me with the full strength of the law. I affirm, moreover,
that my condemnation is required not only in obedience to the
principles of outer justice but to the principles of expediency of
the British government. For if I were to be acquitted I should feel
it incumbent upon me to continue to propagate the movement,
and millions of Indians would join it. My acquittal would lead to
results that I regard as my duty.”
The contents of this speech are very characteristic of what
lives and weaves in our time. Gandhi says he must of necessity
be condemned, and declares it his duty to continue the activity
for which he is to be condemned. The judge replied, “Mahatma
Gandhi, you have rendered my task of sentencing you immeasur-
ably easier, because you have made it clear that I must of necessity
condemn you. It is obvious that you have transgressed against
British law, but you and all those present will realize how hard it
will be for me to sentence you. It is clear that a large portion of the
Indian people looks upon you as a saint, as one who has taken up
his task in obedience to the highest duties devolving upon human-
ity. The judgment I shall pass on you will be looked upon by the
majority of the Indian people as the condemnation of a human
being who has devoted himself to the highest service of human-
ity. Clearly, however, British law must in all severity be put into
effect against you. You would regard it as your duty, if you were
acquitted, to continue tomorrow what you were doing yesterday.

We on our side have to regard it as our most solemn duty to make
that impossible. I condemn you in the full consciousness that my
sentence will in turn be condemned by millions. I condemn you
while admiring your actions, but condemn you I must.” Gandhi’s
sentence was six years at hard labor.
You could hardly find a more striking example of what is char-
acteristic of our times. We have two levels of actuality before us.
Below is the level of truth, the level where the accused declares
that if he is acquitted, it will be his solemn duty to continue what
he must define as criminal in face of outer law. On the level of
truth, also, we have the judge’s statement that he admires the one
whom, out of duty to his government, he sentences to six years’
hard labor. Above, at the level of facts, you have what the accused
in this case, because he is a great soul, defined as crime: the crime
that is his duty and that he would at once continue were he to be
acquitted. Whereas on the one level you have the admiration of
the judge for a great human being, on the other you have the pass-
ing of judgment and its outer justification. You have truths below,
facts above, which have nothing to do with one another. They
touch on one another at only one point, at the point where they
confront each other in statement and counterstatement.
Here, my dear friends, you have a most striking example of
the fact that nowadays we have a level of truth and a level of
untruth. The level of untruth, however, is in public events, and
at no point are the two levels in touch with each other. We must
keep this clearly in mind, because it is intimately bound up with
the whole life of spirit of our times. An example as striking as this
reveals things that occur everywhere but are usually less obvious
and startling. We must achieve first, however, a real consciousness
of what has come to pass in the present in order to put truth in
the place of what is happening in the present. We simply must
find the true path. Naturally, it is not a matter of overturning
everything or of engaging in false radicalism, which leads only to

destruction, but of seeing what one can do. We have to find the
way to a clear insight and then work in the area where our efforts
can be most fruitful.
The most fruitful sphere of activity is education. There, even if
education is controlled by dictatorial rules and standards, teach-
ers can let what they gain from a true feeling for their profession
flow into their lessons. They must, however, have a knowledge of
the human being that will imbue life and spirit into what is other-
wise dead knowledge, and, on the other hand, have an enthusi-
asm arising from a really free and open-minded conception of
what life today actually is. You must be clear that in outer life you
are at the level above, but as a teacher facing children it is possible
to maintain the level below. It is not by practicing an educational
method based on clichés, but by acquiring real enthusiasm for
your profession, the consciousness of your profession, that you
can emancipate yourselves from the constraints in educational
activity and be inspired by the majesty contained in a true knowl-
edge of humanity. It is sometimes a very bitter experience to speak
to anthroposophists, for example, and be compelled to say things
that turn what people have learned upside down (though not in
a bad sense)—and then to find that no attention is paid to what
has been said. If you grasped the full weight of what I said in the
lecture yesterday12 about meteoric iron, for instance, you might
well be astonished at the indifference with which such a matter
is received. I can understand this in the case of people who have
not learned anything, but in the case of those who are conversant
with the scientific concepts about iron, it is incomprehensible. But
the world is like that today.
12. Rudolf Steiner, “The Michael Inspiration, Spiritual Milestones in the

Course of the Year,” The Festivals and Their Meaning, London, Rudolf Steiner
Press, 1996.
That is not, however, how the world should be in the head,

and especially in the heart, of teachers and educators. They must
be filled with the consciousness that all the knowledge acquired
through modern science is dead knowledge out of which we
must create something living, and the only sort of knowledge
that we can use in school arises from this enthusiasm. If you
are permeated on the one hand with the enthusiasm kindled by
such a knowledge of the human being, and on the other with
the consciousness of the necessity to put truth in place of the
lies that are accepted today—you can find no more impressive
example than the legal case I just described to you—if you real-
ize this necessity with your whole being and know that it is the
teacher’s task to find the right direction through recognition of
this necessity, and in face of the appalling crudities inherent in
what appears to be truth in public life today, then something
happens within the human being that colors every sphere. You
will become a different kind of eurythmy teacher, a different
kind of art teacher, a different kind of mathematics teacher. In
every sphere you will become different if you are permeated in
the real sense by this consciousness. Everything is established by
this enthusiasm. This is not the time to talk about the niceties
of this or that method. We must bring life into the world, which
through its dead intellectualism is faced with the danger of fall-
ing still further into death.
Basically, we have fallen out of the habit of being inwardly
incensed by things as they are. If you merely pull a long face,
however, about things that ought to be rejected in our civiliza-
tion, you certainly will not be able to educate. That is why it is so
necessary from time to time to speak of things in such a way that
they can really take hold of our feeling [Gemüt]. If you go away
from these lectures with nothing more than the feeling that there
has to be a change in the spiritual factors governing the world
today, then you will have grasped my aim in giving them.
The dragon takes on the most diverse forms; takes on every

possible form. Those that arise from human emotions are harm-
ful enough, but not nearly as harmful as the form the dragon
acquires from the dead and deadening knowledge that prevails
today. There the dragon becomes especially horrible. One might
almost say that the correct symbol for institutions of higher educa-
tion today would be a thick, black pall hung somewhere on the
wall of every lecture room. Then one would realize that behind
it is something that must not be shown, because to do so would
throw a strange light on what goes on in these lecture rooms!
Behind the black pall there should be a picture of Michael’s battle
with the dragon, the battle with deadening intellectualism. What
I have said today shows you how the struggle between Michael
and the dragon should live in teachers. What I wanted to pres-
ent to you is this: we must become aware of Michael’s battle; it
must become a reality for us if we are to celebrate Michaelmas in
the right way. No one is more called upon to play a part in inau-
gurating the Michael festival in the right way than the teacher.
Teachers should unite themselves with Michael in a particularly
close way, for to live in these times means simply to crawl into
the dragon and further the old intellectual operation. To live in
the truth means to unite oneself with Michael. We must unite
ourselves with Michael whenever we enter the classroom; only
through this can we bring with us the necessary strength. Verily,
Michael is strong! If we understand Michael’s struggle with the
dragon in a particular sphere, we are working for the healing of
humanity in the future. If I had been asked to give these lectures a
title, I would have had to say: Michael’s Struggle with the Dragon,
Presented for the Teachers at the Waldorf School. One should
not speak about the possibility of celebrating a Michael festival
now, but rather give thought to introducing into the most diverse
spheres of life the kind of consciousness with which a Michael
festival could be connected. If you can make these things come
alive in your hearts, can permeate your souls with them; if you
can bring this consciousness with you into the classroom and
sustain it there in complete tranquility, without any element of
agitation or high-sounding phrases; if you can let yourselves be
inspired to unpretentious action through what can be kindled in
your consciousness by surrender to these necessities, then you will
enter into the alliance with Michael, as is essential for the teacher
and educator.
T H E F O U N D AT I O N S
O F W A L D O R F E D U C AT I O N
The First Free Waldorf School opened its doors in Stuttgart, Germany,
in September, 1919, under the auspices of Emil Molt, the Director of the
Waldorf Astoria Cigarette Company and a student of Rudolf Steiner’s spiri-
tual science and particularly of Steiner’s call for social renewal.
It was only the previous year—amid the social chaos following the
end of World War I—that Emil Molt, responding to Steiner’s prognosis
that truly human change would not be possible unless a sufficient number
of people received an education that developed the whole human being,
decided to create a school for his workers’ children. Conversations with
the minister of education and with Rudolf Steiner, in early 1919, then led
rapidly to the forming of the first school.
Since that time, more than 900 schools have opened around the
globe—from Italy, France, Portugal, Spain, Holland, Belgium, Great Brit-
ain, Norway, Finland, and Sweden to Russia, Georgia, Poland, Hungary,
Romania, Israel, Africa, Australia, Brazil, Chile, Peru, Argentina, Japan,
China, and others—making the Waldorf school movement the largest
independent school movement in the world. The United States, Canada,
and Mexico alone now have around 200 schools.
Although each Waldorf school is independent, and although there
is a healthy oral tradition going back to the first Waldorf teachers and
to Steiner himself, as well as a growing body of secondary literature, the
true foundations of the Waldorf approach and spirit remain the many
lectures that Rudolf Steiner gave on the subject. For five years (1919–24),
Rudolf Steiner, while simultaneously working on many other fronts,
tirelessly dedicated himself to the dissemination of the idea of Waldorf
education. He gave manifold lectures to teachers, parents, the general
public, and even the children themselves. New schools were founded.
The movement grew.
While many of Steiner’s foundational lectures have been translated
and published in the past, some have never appeared in English, and
many have been virtually unobtainable for years. To remedy this situation
and to establish a coherent basis for Waldorf education, Anthroposophic
Press has decided to publish the complete series of Steiner lectures and
writings on education in a uniform series. This series will thus constitute
an authoritative foundation for work in educational renewal, for Waldorf
teachers, parents, and educators generally.
RUDOLF STEINER’S LECTURES
A N D W R I T I N G S O N E D U C AT I O N
I. Allgemeine Menschenkunde als Grundlage der Pädagogik. Pädagogischer

Grundkurs, 14 Lectures, Stuttgart, 1919 (GA 293). Previously Study of Man.
The Foundations of Human Experience (Anthroposophic Press, 1996).
II. Erziehungskunst Methodische-Didaktisches, 14 Lectures, Stuttgart, 1919
(GA 294). Practical Advice to Teachers (Anthroposophic Press, 2000).
III. Erziehungskunst Methodische-Didaktisches, 15 Discussions, Stuttgart,
1919 (GA 295). Discussions with Teachers (Anthroposophic Press, 1997).
IV. Die Erziehungsfrage als soziale Frage, 6 Lectures, Dornach, 1919 (GA
296). Education as a Force for Social Change (previously Education as a
Social Problem) (Anthroposophic Press, 1997).
V. Die Waldorf Schule und ihr Geist, 6 Lectures, Stuttgart and Basel, 1919
(GA 297). The Spirit of the Waldorf School (Anthroposophic Press, 1995).
VI. Rudolf Steiner in der Waldorfschule, Vorträge und Ansprachen, Stuttgart,
1919–1924 (GA 298). Rudolf Steiner in the Waldorf School: Lectures and
Conversations (Anthroposophic Press, 1996).
VII. Geisteswissenschaftliche Sprachbetrachtungen, 6 Lectures, Stuttgart,
1919 (GA 299). The Genius of Language (Anthroposophic Press, 1995).
VIII. Konferenzen mit den Lehren der Freien Waldorfschule 1919–1924,
3 Volumes (GA 300). Faculty Meetings with Rudolf Steiner, 2 volumes
(Anthroposophic Press, 1998).
IX. Die Erneuerung der Pädagogisch-didaktischen Kunst durch Geisteswis-
senschaft, 14 Lectures, Basel, 1920 (GA 301). The Renewal of Education
X. Menschenerkenntnis und Unterrichtsgestaltung, 8 Lectures, Stuttgart,
1921 (GA 302). Previously The Supplementary Course—Upper School and
Waldorf Education for Adolescence) Education for Adolescents (Anthropo-
sophic Press, 1996).
XI. Erziehung und Unterricht aus Menschenerkenntnis, 7 Lectures, Stutt-
gart, 1920, 1922, 1923 (GA 302a). Balance in Teaching (Anthroposophic
Press, 2007).
XII. Die Gesunder Entwicklung des Menschenwesens, 16 Lectures, Dornach,
1921–22 (GA 303). Soul Economy: Body, Soul, and Spirit in Waldorf
Education (Anthroposophic Press, 2003).
XIII. Erziehungs- und Unterrichtsmethoden auf Anthroposophischer Grund-
lage, 9 Public Lectures, various cities, 1921–22 (GA 304). Waldorf Educa-
tion and Anthroposophy 1 (Anthroposophic Press, 1995).
Rudolf Steiner’s Lectures and Writings on Education 109
XIV. Anthroposophische Menschenkunde und Pädagogik, 9 Public Lectures,

various cities, 1923–24 (GA 304a). Waldorf Education and Anthroposophy 2
XV. Die geistig-seelischen Grundkräfte der Erziehungskunst, 12 Lectures, 1
Special Lecture, Oxford 1922 (GA 305). The Spiritual Ground of Education
XVI. Die pädagogische Praxis vom Gesichtspunkte geisteswissenschaftlicher
Menschenerkenntnis, 8 Lectures, Dornach, 1923 (GA 306). The Child’s
Changing Consciousness As the Basis of Pedagogical Practice (Anthropo-
sophic Press, 1996).
XVII. Gegenwärtiges Geistesleben und Erziehung, 4 Lectures, Ilkeley, 1923
(GA 307). A Modern Art of Education (Anthroposophic Press, 2004) and
Education and Modern Spiritual Life (Garber Publications, 1989).
XVIII. Die Methodik des Lehrens und die Lebensbedingungen des Erziehens, 5
Lectures, Stuttgart, 1924 (GA 308). The Essentials of Education (Anthro-
posophic Press, 1997).
XIX. Anthroposophische Pädagogik und ihre Voraussetzungen, 5 Lectures, Bern,
1924 (GA 309). The Roots of Education (Anthroposophic Press, 1997).
XX. Der pädagogische Wert der Menschenerkenntnis und der Kulturwert der
Pädagogik, 10 Public Lectures, Arnheim, 1924 (GA 310). Human Values in
Education (Anthroposophic Press, 2005).
XXI. Die Kunst des Erziehens aus dem Erfassen der Menschenwesenheit, 7
Lectures, Torquay, 1924 (GA 311). The Kingdom of Childhood (Anthro-
posophic Press, 1995).
XXII. Geisteswissenschaftliche Impulse zur Entwicklung der Physik. Erster
naturwissenschaftliche Kurs: Licht, Farbe, Ton—Masse, Elektrizität, Magne-
tismus, 10 Lectures, Stuttgart, 1919–20 (GA 320). The Light Course
XXIII. Geisteswissenschaftliche Impulse zur Entwicklung der Physik. Zweiter
naturwissenschaftliche Kurs: die Wärme auf der Grenze positiver und negativer
Materialität, 14 Lectures, Stuttgart, 1920 (GA 321). The Warmth Course
(Mercury Press, 1988).
XXIV. Das Verhältnis der verschiedenen naturwissenschaftlichen Gebiete zur
Astronomie. Dritter naturwissenschaftliche Kurs: Himmelskunde in Beziehung
zum Menschen und zur Menschenkunde, 18 Lectures, Stuttgart, 1921 (GA
323). Available in typescript only as “The Relation of the Diverse Branches
of Natural Science to Astronomy.”
XXV. The Education of the Child and Early Lectures on Education (A
collection) (Anthroposophic Press, 1996).
XXVI. Miscellaneous.
I NDEX
Ahriman/ahrimanic, 71 forces, 44, 84-86

air, 51 out-breathing, 13
as a mixture instead of rhythms, 37, 84-86
compounds, 51 wings, 43
oxygen and nitrogen, loosely becoming, 10
connected, 51 birth, being synonymous with
anemia of the brain, 78 illness, 83
antimony, 86 blood
anthroposophical/anthroposophy, 1, circulation, 86-87
6, 23, 31, 33, 38-39, 41, 44, 54- rhythm, 85
56, 62, 80, 103 blood vessels, transformation in
Apollonian element, 20 tadpoles, 77
archangel, 70 botanist/botany, 4
architect, 6 breathing, 50-51, 85-87, 89-92
art, during sleep, 50
as becoming a human, 29 effervescing of carbon dioxide, 92
as interpreter of nature, 29 greater breathing process, 50
artistic/artists, 26, 29 in-breathing/out-breathing, 12-13,
artistic balance, 46, 48 50-51
artistic education, 45-46, 49, 51 low nitrogen air, 90
artistic element, 70 low oxygen air, 90
artistic ideal, 70 part played by astral/etheric, 85-86
artistic transformation in tadpoles, rhythm, 85-87
77 butterfly metamorphosis, 74-76
knowledge gained in working, 9
learning properly to be a painter, carbon, 96-99
56 in human body, as well as
loss of interest when complete, 9 external forms, 99
not transmuted into knowledge as “stone of the wise,” 97
until complete, 9 carbonic acid, 97-98
picturing the butterfly evolution caterpillar metamorphosis, 75-76
artistically, 76 change of teeth, 14-17, 23, 25, 43,
work in natural world artistically, 98
77 change of voice, 14, 18-19, 24
astral, 13, 37, 51, 75, 84-86, 99 chemical/chemistry, 50-51
body, 13-14, 18, 22-23, 26, 37-39, College of Teachers, 1-2
44-45, 49-51 color, 36-37
astral element, 37 as a perceiving activity, 87

color perception, 36 principles of, 7-9
colors as born out of light, 76 as a science of principles and
tone as color, 36 formulas, 30
comprehension, 32-33, 36, 41 effectiveness, 2
consciousness ego (“I”), 14, 18, 38-39, 43-53
being formed, 17 ego absorption, 46-48
cultivate our consciousness, 81-82 ego integration, 45
different when worked with soul egoistic, 9
and body, 77 embryo/embryologist, 52
cosmic music, 37 enthusiasm, in teaching, 21-22, 28,
cosmic-musical forces, 49 62, 81, 92-93, 103-104
cosmic-sculptural forces, 49 artificial enthusiasm, 81
criminal earlobes, 45 esoteric, 1, 6
crystallization, spiritual, 20 etheric, 27, 51, 75, 84-87, 99
Curtius, 70 etheric body, 14-15, 18, 25-27, 37,
cyanic acid (cyanide), 95-98 43-45, 49-51, 84-85
as formative force body, 43, 49
degeneracy, 45-46 inner and outer forces, 84-87
digestive system, 84-85 as intelligence, 44
Dionysian element, 20 eurythmic/eurythmy, 23, 27, 37-39,
doctor. See professor 54, 69, 104
draftsman, 16, 26 strengthens the soul, 39
his work, 26-27 excretory process, 95
dragon, 105
dreaminess, prevention of in a child, feeling (Gemüt ), 73, 100, 104
46, 48 feelings, 22
forming of in children, by
education/educational teachers, 28
as art (artistic), 3, 6-7, 9, 23, 45- life of feeling, 100
46, 49, 51, 92-93 merging feelings with a child, 28
children’s intellectual education, 7 protecting the child, from being
educating lovingly, 56 absorbed too strongly by outer
education transforms therapeutic world, 28
forces, 88 Fichte, 2-3, 5, 55
educational thinking, 88 forces
educator as gymnast, 66-67 complexes of, in humans, 83-85
educator as rhetorician, 67 from inward to outward, 26
environment for, 90-91 from outward to inward, 26
as most fruitful sphere of activity, human movement, 83-84
103 human nourishment, 83-85
musical education, 97 forebrain, 73
must have healing process, 83 thoughts here become intellectual,
must have some of process of 73
healing, 83 frog, 77
Index 113
Gandhi, Mahatma, 100-102 intellectual/intellectualism

geometry, 49 age of, 70
gesture, 27 deadening of, 104-105
God, 42 training, 67-69, 79
Goethe, 2, 29, 36 interplay, between attack and
his Baccalaureus, 5 defense, 25
his Faust, 5 in etheric body, 25-26
his Naturwissenshaftliche Schriften,
36 Jean-Paul, 5
his theory of color, 36
Greek kamaloka, 22
era, 66 as purgatory, 22
education, 66-67 karma, 4, 54
gymnasts, 66-67 knowledge in teaching, 9
thinking, 38 found on the way, 9
guardianship, sense of, 28 gained in teaching, 9
gymnasts, 66-69, 78-79, 86 ready made, 9
this knowledge rises after death, 9
head system, human, 9-10, 15-16,
18, 23-24, 35, 52-53, 67-68, languages, human, 19, 34, 47, 92
91-92 primitive, 23
head metabolism, 35 rhythmic element, 48
head receiving configuration from larynx, 18-19, 21, 37
cosmos, 52-53 level of truth, 102
music using head as conduit, 19 level of untruth, 102
as “over-ripe,” 9 light
sculptural form of, 53 attraction to, 75-76
sculptors having different creating out of light, 76-77
feelings, while molding the head, limb system, 31, 35, 66, 91, 94
56 magical element of moving, 95
healing, 85-89, 92 love
antimony as a remedy, 86 develops towards child with proper
as bond with education, 82 teaching, 56
influences by etheric/astral, 85-87 Lucifer/luciferic, 24-25
therapeutic forces transformed, 88 forces of, 24
Herder, 2-3, 5 lymph vessels, 73
illness, 83, 85-88, 93, 96-97 marsh gas, 91-92

nature of, 83 meditation, active, 39-41
imitation , as a role, 15-16 meditative comprehension, 41-42
individuality, of the child, meditative digestion, 40
development of, 7-9 meditative remembering, 51
sympathy with, 7 memory, 33-35, 41, 47
inspiration, 99 audible memory, 35
intellectual forces, 15-16 helping children’s memories, 33
musical memory, 35, 47 mystery teachers, 25

visual memory, 35
mental assimilation, 33 nerve-sense system, 15, 31-32, 66,
mental image, 34 68, 73, 86-87, 91
audible image, 34-35, 39 motor nerves, 31, 34, 95
received by head, 35 nervous system, 87
visual image, 34-35, 39 sense organization of ear, 34
metabolic system, 33, 35, 40, 66 sensory nerves, 31, 34-35
metabolic-limb system, 91, 95-96 nourishment, 83-87, 91
Michael, 105-106 nutrition, modern theory, 72-73
battle with the dragon, 105
Michaelmas, 105 observation of nature, 18
midbrain, 73 ossification, 10
real purpose of, 73 oxygen, 73-74
Molt, Emil, 61 inorganic burning, 74
motion, process of, 31 living burning, 74
motor nerves, 31, 34, 95
music/musical painting (art), 26-27
aids ego in children, 47 pedagogical/pedagogy, 3-4, 57
defense against frightful forces, perception, 32-34, 41, 87, 92
24-26 personality, judged from physical
earthly music transformed, 22 body, 54-55
elements/forces, 17-21, 24, 30, philosopher, 20
34-35, 44, 47, 50, 71 pictorial (seeing)
fructifying of music germ, 21 element, 31, 34
imprints on astral body, 23 instructions, 98
memory for music, 47 primitive, human on this side of
music in elementary school, 21 threshold, 23
music in skeleton, 20 principles
music preserved as long as astral abstract, 7, 10
body, after death, 23 formative, 16
music wards off “serpents, professor, 67-71, 78-79
wolves, and foxes,” 24-25 protective, 28
music wards off “treasons, psychologist/psychology, 19-20
strategems, and spoils,” 24-25 psychophysical parallelism, 19
musical connection with cosmos, physiologist/physiology, 52, 72, 97
71 puberty, 14, 17-19, 44, 98
musical education, 97
musical memory, after death, 22 Querido, René M, 61-63
musical sphere, 92
non-physical, in air, 21 reality, not true or false, 88-89
resonates, 23 reasoning power, 16
spiritual element, 18 recitation, 23, 48
Music of the Spheres, 18, 21-22 as an act, 23
musician, 26, 54 remembering, active, creative, 41
Index 115
repugnance, to some textbooks, 74 perception, “tonally”, 36

resurrection, compounds of, 99 process of, 35-36
reverence, 17, 21-22, 28 rhythms of astral body in speech, 37
right-wrong concepts, 88-89 sound comes to life, 36
rhetoric/rhetorician, 67-70, 78-79 spiritual element, 18
rhythmic system, 32, 34-36, 41, 66- tone has color, 36-37
68, 84-88, 91, 95 Spencer, Herbert, 3-4, 7
Romans, 67 contradicting his own principles, 7
education of, 67 his principles, 3-4, 7
root food, 72 spiritual
experience of, 82
Schiller, 5 forces, from heaven, 17
Schopenhauer, 34 knowledge, low stage, 23
sculptor, 16, 26, 53, 56 truths, 89
learning to be one properly, 56 spiritual science. See anthroposophy
sculptural forces (elements), 17, 19- spontaneous listening, 47
21, 25, 50 Steiner, Rudolf
counter pressure to, 20-21 as director of Waldorf School in
emanating from the head, 19 Stuttgart, 62
seed food, 72-73 Discussions with Teachers, 61
Shakespeare, 24-25 The Education of the Child in the
The Merchant of Venice, 24 Light of Anthroposophy, 61
sight element, 35 Extending Practical Medicine, 86
skeleton Festivals and their Meaning, 103
animal, 20 Foundations of Human
human, 20 Experience (Study of Man), 61
sound element, 30, 34-36 his gestures, 28
soul, 81 his “initial lectures” on Waldorf
activity, 15, 74 education, 61
currents, 31-32 An Introduction to Eurythmy, 23
forces, 15-17, 74, 81 his lecture, “The Michael
not becoming a gnome, 28 Inspiration; Spiritual Milestones
resembles a dwarf, 29 in the Course of the Year,” 103
soul life, vital, 80 A Modern Art of Education, 62
sparkling water activity, 91-92 An Outline of Esoteric Science, 22
speech (sound), 17-18, 20-21, 67, Practical Advice to Teachers, 61
70, 78 The Renewal of Education, 62
as artistic, 78 The Spiritual Ground of Education,
color quality in sound, 37 62
defense against frightful forces, Theosophy, 22
24-26 his essay in the journal, The
forces, speech, 18 Threefold Social Order, 45
fructifying germ, 21 sugar, 83-84
lose speech quickly after death, 23
nonphysical in air, 21 tadpoles, 77
teaching thoughts, 70, 73

akin to in- and out-breathing, training, scientific, 5
12-13 true-false concepts, 88-89
alliance with Michael, 106
balances in curriculum, 48 universities
boring teaching, 78 as research centers, 5
bring life to knowledge, 74 for teaching, 5
child in true nature of a human, 30 upwelling forces, 15-16
control “tragedy, romance or
humor,” 12 vocation, not to be taught at
controlling moods, 12-13 elementary level, 4
conviction of teachers, 11
develop individualities in children, Waldorf schools (education), 61-62,
11 65, 68, 74, 82, 92, 105
experiences in teaching proves as an art, 62
different, 10-11 book on Waldorf Schools, The
faces of teacher, 99-100 Pedagogical Basis of the Waldorf
feeling for esoteric, 1 School, 45
geometry and arithmetic aids ego, original teachers, had 4 years of
47, 49 training under Rudolf Steiner, 62
growing with children, 8 school in Stuttgart, 62
love for teacher, 98 will, element of, 18, 27, 31, 33-35,
music aids ego, 47 44, 95-96
musical sphere, teaching in, 92 will region of visual experience, 39
strength in knowledge of will zones, 34
becoming, 10
strip off personal self in teaching, zoologist/zoology, 4
12
taking on a religious quality, 16-17
teaching children in puberty, 14
teaching of history, 48
teaching languages, 92
teaching lovingly, 56-57
work with lessons as you go, 8, 10
theosophist/theosophy, 46
threefold (-ness), 65-66, 69
of the social organism, 6
thinking, 70-71, 73, 88, 97
brain, 38, 45
educational, 88
materialistic, 38, 45
prosaic, 70
soul, 38
spiritual, 88
thinking and feeling, 1, 3, 73
During the last two decades of the nineteenth century the Austrian-
born Rudolf Steiner (1861–1925) became a respected and well-
published scientific, literary, and philosophical scholar, particularly
known for his work on Goethe’s scientific writings. After the turn
of the century he began to develop his earlier philosophical prin-
ciples into an approach to methodical research of psychological and
spiritual phenomena.
His multifaceted genius has led to innovative and holistic approaches
in medicine, philosophy, religion, education (Waldorf schools),
special education, economics, agriculture (Biodynamic method),
science, architecture, drama, the new arts of speech and eurythmy,
and other fields of activity. In 1924 he founded the General Anthro-
posophical Society, which today has branches throughout the
world.

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BALANCE IN TEACHING

Copyright © SteinerBooks, 2007

Published by Anthroposophic Press/SteinerBooks

This book is volume 302a in the Collected Works of Rudolf Steiner. It is a

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Steiner, Rudolf, 1861-1925.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any

Introduction by Douglas Gerwin ix

The Educational Task of Central Europe

The Three Fundamental Forces in Education

Supersensible Physiology in Education

Preface by René Querido 61

Gymnast, Rhetorician, Professor: A Living Synthesis

Forces Leading to Health and Illness in Education

A Comprehensive Knowledge of the Human Being as the Source of

The Foundations of Waldorf Education 107

Rudolf Steiner’s Lectures and Writings on Education 108

HIGH up in the wooded mountains of Phokis stands a circle

This question stands at the heart of two series of lectures

1. In English, this course is available in three separate volumes: Study of Man

physical world and connect it with the whole periphery of the

In other words, the forces of stilling and moving represent

2. See Rudolf Steiner’s lecture (Stuttgart, December 9, 1922) on “The Ear”

sweep of a valley from a mountaintop vista—we are much more

threatening to break out and similarly named outer forces threat-

This is of particular significance if one wishes to engender a true

educators’ profession.” At least the German titles suggest that,

Douglas Gerwin, Ph.D., is Director of the Center for Anthroposo-

The Educational Task of Central Europe

MY dear friends, during the days I am to spend here I had

This is particularly true of the art of education. From the

1. Herbert Spencer (1820-1903), English philosopher.

principle into practice, simply because our textbooks are put

something in common with the scientist; a scientific training has

2. Faust, Part 2, Act 2. A student highly scornful of all his professors.

way of educating drawn directly from life, that is a life-infused

Herbert Spencer has written something of unusual inter-

most weight. Sometimes it is the perception, the feeling that we

As we teach, our object is not simply to teach with and for

The Three Fundamental Forces in Education

IT is naturally not possible to educate or give instruction without a

Let us call to mind what the change of teeth signifies. Before

between the forces striving downward from above and those

They are forces of a musical nature that we take up from the

becomes apparent at puberty. The difference that exists between

bony system. And anyone who observes a human skeleton from

I am referring to the counter pressure that is exerted. Since the

and concepts that can be transformed into feelings. For nothing

at a comparatively low stage of spiritual knowledge. You need only

4. Rudolf Steiner, An Introduction to Eurythmy, Anthroposophic Press, NY,

whose equivalent is the change of voice. Everything that descends

5. The Merchant of Venice, Act 5, Scene 1.

Its purpose is to make people into human beings. One must, of

and music on the other hand—work themselves out and become

A person always has the tendency to become weak and stunted in