The Renewal of Education
GA 301
3 May 1920, Basel
VIII. Teaching Zoology and Botany to Children Nine through Twelve
I have attempted to indicate from various perspectives how we can base curriculum and teaching goals upon human development. I have particularly tried to show that we can characterize the period that begins around the age of six or seven with the change of teeth, and continues until puberty, about age fourteen or fifteen, as one stage of life. I also attempted to show that there is a shorter stage within the earlier stage that lasts until approximately the age of nine. There is another important change around the age of twelve. We should view these three times, that is, about the age of nine, then about twelve, and then again around fourteen or fifteen, which is approximately when the students leave school, as important when we create the whole curriculum and teaching goals. You can easily see the importance of comprehending the development of the human being when you realize that what is important in education is that we completely develop those forces that lie buried in human nature. If we look at things in the proper way, we have to admit that we need to use all our teaching material and education to reveal those forces. It is not nearly so important to use the forces within children to teach them one detail or another. What is important is that we use the material the children are to learn in such a way that the effects of what they learn develop the natural forces within them. That is something we fail to do if we do not take into account how different the child’s physical and soul nature is before the age of nine, and then again before the age of twelve, and so forth. We must be aware that the power to differentiate through reason, which enables human beings to reason independently, in essence occurs only at puberty and that we should slowly prepare for it beginning at the age of twelve. We can therefore say that until the age of nine children want to develop under authority, but their desire to imitate is still present as well. At nine, the desire to imitate disappears, but the desire for authority remains. At about the age of twelve, while still under the guidance of authority, another important desire, namely, to reason independently, begins to develop. If we use independent reasoning too much before the age of twelve, we will actually ruin the child’s soul and bodily forces. In a certain sense, we deaden human experiencing with reason.
To anyone not completely devoid of feeling, it is not insignificant that we say yes or no to something through making a judgment. Depending upon whether we need to say yes or no, we have feelings of liking or disliking, joy or sorrow. As much as modern people tend to have egotistical feelings of liking or disliking those things that they judge, they have hardly any feelings, whether of joy or sorrow, about the world and life as a whole. That is precisely why people miss so much today. Aside from that, their incapacity to experience the world influences social desires as a whole. That is why our teaching should not only emphasize the development of proper concepts, but it should also develop a proper feeling for the world, a proper feeling for a person’s place in the world.
Today people have one overriding judgment in regard to social issues. They say to themselves that we must make the world into an earthly paradise for all human beings. In the end, what do the extremists, the radical socialists of Eastern Europe, want other than to develop a kind of earthly paradise out of some theories, even though the paradise that results is a hell? But that is something else again. Where does this come from? We need only replace that judgment with another, and we will immediately see the problem in wanting to create an earthly paradise through enforced socialization.
I don’t really want to discuss Nietzsche here, but I do want to mention the following in order to explain something else.1 Nietzsche’s first work was entitled The Birth of Tragedy from the Spirit of Music. Among the many thoughtful ideas contained in that work (even though you could argue against them), Nietzsche suggests that the Greek people were not the eternally happy, laughing folk many people say they were, but instead the life of the Greeks was rooted in tragedy, in a kind of sadness. The Greeks felt that our life here upon earth between birth and death could not always be one of great happiness, and that the task of human beings lay beyond this earthly life. Nietzsche thought the Greeks had a particularly strong feeling of this and needed a strong solace for the disharmonies of earthly life, which they found in art. Nietzsche’s view of the rise of art was that art, particularly Greek art, was a solace for earthly disharmonies. Nietzsche sees music in particular as something that leads people beyond earthly disharmonies. There is certainly a contrast between what we experience in our dry, calculating thinking and what we experience through music, but these contrasts relate to one another in a quite peculiar way. Consider that we can compute tones and the relationships of tones in terms of numbers; the result is musical physics, or acoustics. However, those who give themselves over to the musical world of tones leave what we can compute completely behind. They leave the intellectual aspects of music aside. What is intellectual sleeps in music. Nietzsche had a particular feeling for what he called the tragedy of music. The tragedy of music is that people can feel in music what they should otherwise feel throughout the world. Now Nietzsche was a man who could feel throughout his body what the materialism of the nineteenth century had brought to humanity. He was the kind of a teacher who dreamed of educational institutions based upon ideas such as I just described, which could have been the source of a genuine solace for life. Someone like Nietzsche revealed through his own life what was needed by the nineteenth century. The problem is, he collapsed under the experiences of those disharmonies. If we read between the lines, we will see that fate in a way determined that this man could deeply experience things that others of his century passed through in a more or less sleepy state of soul. We can also see that he always points to those things that were missing in his own education, specifically the education he had to go through in school. In Nietzsche youhave the feeling that the forces within him remained deeply buried, that they were never developed. Surely such an insightful person as he felt the tragedy of that much more strongly than others. You could easily say that here and there he had some awareness of the three main stages of childhood, particularly the stage between the ages of six or seven and fourteen or fifteen, but he never brought that understanding into the service of education. That is something that must happen now.
At the age of nine, the child experiences a truly complete transformation of her being that indicates an important transformation of her soul life as well as her physical experience. At that time, the human being begins to feel separated from her surroundings and learns to differentiate between the world and herself. If we can observe accurately, we have to admit that until that transformation, the world and the I are more or less conjoined in human consciousness. Beginning at the age of nine (of course I mean this only approximately), human beings can differentiate between themselves and the world. We must take that into consideration in what and how we teach children starting at the age of nine. Until then, it is best not to confuse them with descriptions and characterizations of things that are separate from the human being, or that we should consider separate from the human being. When we tell a child a story or a fairy tale, we describe the animals and perhaps the plants in the way we would speak about people. In a certain sense, we personify plants and animals. We can justifiably personify them because the child cannot yet differentiate between herself and the world. That is why we should show the child the world in a way similar to the way he or she experiences it. You should be clear that what I am suggesting does not diminish childhood before the age of nine, but enriches it.
My last statement may seem quite paradoxical to you. But much of what people say about the child’s life is said in such a way that the child’s life does not actually become richer but rather poorer. Think for a moment of what modern people often say when a child injures himself on the corner of a table and hits the table in rage. Today people say that children’s souls have something called animism. In a certain sense, the child makes the table alive by pushing his or her soul into the table. This is an impossible theory. Why? Because children do not directly perceive themselves as something living, something that can put itself into the table and personify it. Rather, children do not think of themselves as any more alive than the table. Children look at the table and experience no more of themselves than they do of the table. It is not that the child personifies the table but, if I can express it this way, the child “tables” his or her own personality. Children do not make their personality anything more than the table. When you tell a child a fairy tale or story, you speak only of what the child can comprehend of the external world. That is what must occur until the age of nine. After that, you can count upon children’s ability to differentiate themselves from the world. At that time, we can begin to speak about plants and animals from the perspective of nature. I have put a lot of effort into studying the effects upon children of teaching about nature too early. Teaching about nature too early really does make children dry; so dry, in fact, that a well-trained observer can see in the changes of someone’s skin that that person was taught about the concepts of nature at too early an age.
When they are nine we may begin to teach children the concepts of nature, but only through living thoughts. Wherever possible, we should avoid teaching them about minerals, about dead things. What is living, what lives outside the human being, exists in two areas, that of animals and that of plants. However, if we attempt to present the popular descriptions of animals, their scientific characteristics and the scientific descriptions of plants, we will not really be able to teach children about them. You can see in nearly every natural history book that the content is nothing more than a somewhat simplified academic natural science—that is horrible. Of course, people have also attempted to create an illustrative teaching of nature. There are numerous books about that method too, but they suffer from the opposite mistake. They contain a great deal of triviality. In that case, the teacher attempts to discuss nothing with the children, nothing more than what they already know. As people say, the teacher tries to create a picture of nature solely out of the nature of the children themselves. We easily fall into triviality that way. We can only throw our hands up in frustration about so many of those method books because they are so terribly trivial. We may feel that if schools use such things, only triviality will be implanted in children. This triviality will come to expression later as many other things I have already mentioned, as a kind of aridness in later life, or at any rate it will make it impossible for people to look back upon their childhood with joy.
That is, however, precisely what human beings need. Throughout life, we need to be able to look back upon our childhood as something like a paradise. It is not just that we had only happy experiences then; it is really not so important that as children we had only happy experiences. Many people may have gone hungry during their childhood or have been beaten by their teachers out of a lack of understanding or were treated unkindly. Of course, nothing other than an intent to fight against all such things in the best possible way should ever form the basis of education. Nevertheless such things can occur, and even so thinking back upon childhood can still be a source of enlivening when, in one way or another, we gained a relationship to the world during childhood. As children, we need to develop that relationship by being taught about nature in the proper way. It is of no help whatsoever when we describe the various classes of animals or types of plants and so forth to children and then, in order not to be too dry, we go on a walk with the children to show them the plants outdoors. That is not at all useful. Of course, through certain instinctive tendencies, one teacher will be able to accomplish more and another less. A teacher can, through his or her own love of nature, enliven a great deal for children. However, what spiritual science can give to people’s feeling is something really quite different, something that gives people a feeling for the connections living between the human being and the remainder of the world.
In the first third of the nineteenth century, many people still felt that the entire animal world was an extended human being. In this model, we have different groups of animals. One group is one-sidedly developed in one direction, another in another direction. We can create an overview of the various groups and kinds of animals for ourselves. The human being contains all those forces, all the inner forms that are distributed among the animals. That was, for example, the view of nature that someone like Oken took. At that time people looked for the lower animals in nature. Today’s materialistic natural science says that these lower animals existed in very early times and that they slowly developed and become more complete. The result was today’s human being, a completely developed physical being. We do not need to go into all the details today, since our concern is not with conventional science, but with education. However, can’t we see that the human head, which is a bony structure outside with the softer parts inside, looks similar to that of certain lower animals? Look at a snail or a mussel and see how similar they are to the human head. If you look at our more or less developed birds, you would have to admit that they have adjusted to the air, they have adjusted their entire life to something that corresponds to the inner form of the lungs and such things in human beings. If you remove from your thoughts all those aspects of the human being contained in the limbs and imagine the entire human inner organization as adjusted to living in air, the result will be the form and function of a bird. You could also compare the organic form of a lion or a cat with that of a bovine.
Everywhere you will see that in one group of animals, one part of its form is more developed and in another group, a different part. Each group of animals is particularly well-developed in one direction or another. We can say a snail is almost entirely head. It has nothing other than the head aspect, only it is a simple and primitive head. The human head is more complicated. Of a bird we can say that it is, in a certain sense, entirely a lung developed in a particular way because all other aspects are rudimentary. Of a lion we can say that it is, in a certain sense, primarily the blood circulation and the heart. We could say cattle are entirely stomachs. Thus in external nature we can characterize the various groups of animals by looking toward individual human organs. What I have just said can be said very simply, in a primitive way. If we look at the world of animals and look at the great diversity there, then compare that with the human organism and see how in the human being everything is well-rounded—how no part of the human being is one-sidedly developed, but each part complements the other—then we can see that in animals the various organs are adapted to the external world, whereas in human beings the organs do not adapt to the external world, but rather one organ complements another.
The human being is a closed totality.
Now imagine that we used everything available to us, the nature exhibits in the school, each walk with the children, everything the children have experienced, to show in a living way how the human being is, in a certain sense, a summary of the animal world. Imagine showing children that everything in the human being is formed harmoniously, is well-rounded, and that the animals represent one-sided developments and, for that reason, are not fully blessed. We can also show that the human being represents an adaptation of one system of organs to the other and for that reason has a possibility of complete being. If we are completely convinced of this relationship of the human being to the world of animals, if it fully permeates us spiritually, we can describe that relationship in a lively way so that the description is quite objective, but at the same time children can feel their relationship to the world.
Think how valuable it is for modern people to be able to say, in our materialistic times, that they are the crown of earthly creation. People do not really understand it—they look at themselves, and they look at individual animals. However, they do not look at each individual animal and try to understand how one system of organs is one-sidedly developed in one animal and another in another animal. They also do not consider how that all comes together in the human being. If we do that, our knowledge will directly become a feeling, a perception of our position relative to the world. We will then stop experiencing ourselves only egotistically, and our feelings will go out into the universe.
You need only attempt to teach in that sense once, and you will see what value such teaching has for the feelings of the child. Such knowledge is transformed completely into feeling, and people slowly become more modest under the influence of such knowledge. In that way, the material to be taught becomes a genuine means of education. What is the use of saying we should not teach in a dry way, we should not teach the children only facts, if we have no possibility of transforming the material to be taught so that it becomes a direct means of education? Sometimes when people stress that teaching children too many facts hinders their proper development, we want to ask, “Why don’t you throw out all the material you teach if it is of no use?” We cannot do that, of course. We must make the material we teach into educational material. Teaching about nature, particularly in connection with the animal world, can become educational material when we shape it in the way I described, and when we do not teach it to children before the age of nine.
With the plant world, we cannot take the individual plants or kinds of plants, present them one-sidedly, summarize everything we find there, and expect to see it again in the human being. The approach that is so fruitful with animals and gives us such a good basis for an artistic and living presentation of the nature of animals fails with plants. We cannot consider them in the same way; it does not work. With plants, we need to use a very different approach. We need to consider the entire nature of plants in relationship to the earth as something that enlivens the entire earth.
Materialism has brought us to the point where we consider the earth only as a ball made of stones and minerals in which plants are simply placed. We cannot use the same principle with, for instance, the human head and hair. We need to consider the growth of hair as something connected with the human head. In the same way, we must consider plants as belonging to the organism of the earth. We create an abstract picture if we only think of the earth as a stone, which can at most call gravity its own. We speak of the real earth when we think of the earth as an organism with plants that belong to it just as the hair on our heads belongs to us. When we consider it that way, our picture of the earth grows together with our picture of plants, and we get the proper feeling for how to think of the earth in connection with the plant world. We can do that when we look at the earth in the course of the year. If we are to really teach children about plants, we should not compare one class or group of plants with another. Instead we need to use all the fresh plants we have, the nature exhibits in the school, walks, everything the children remember, and everything we can bring into the classroom as fresh plants. Then we can show the children how spring magically draws the plants out of the earth. We can show them how plants are magically drawn out, then go on to May, when the earth becomes somewhat different. We then continue on into summer, and the earth looks different again.
We try to consider flowers and plants in the same way children understand the development of the earth throughout the course of the year. We tell the children how, in the fall, the plant seeds return to the earth and the cycle begins anew. We consider the earth an organism and follow the sprouting and dying back of the plants. We call everything by its proper name (which of course is only convention) only after we have taught the child by saying, “Look, here is a plant (under a tree or perhaps somewhere else). We have this little plant because this kind of plant grows so well in May. It has five little petals. Remember, these plants with five little yellow petals are part of the life of the whole earth in May. It is a buttercup.” You can go on in that way and show them how the world of plants is connected with the yearly cycle of the earth. You can then go on further to more hidden things, how, for example, some plants bloom at Christmastime, and some plants can live through winter and others much longer. You go from the life of one plant that decorates the earth for one year and leaves, to others, such as the growth of a tree and so forth. You would never consider simply comparing one plant with another; you always relate the earth to its plant growth and how the growth of plants arises out of the living earth.
You now have two wonderful points in the life of nature. Everywhere in the animal realm you find things that point to the human being. People can feel how they are a synthesis of all the one-sided aspects of the animal realm. We do not take up any species of animals without indicating which aspect of the human being that animal species has developed one-sidedly. The animal kingdom becomes, therefore, a picture of the human being spread out before us—the human being unfolded like a fan. As I said, modern people laugh about such things, but during the first third of the nineteenth century that sometimes took on grotesque forms. People such as Oken have said such grotesque things as “the tongue is a squid,” and I certainly do not want to defend them. Oken had the right principle in mind. He looked at the human tongue and then sought something among the animals which he then compared with that human organ. He found the greatest similarity to the human tongue in the squid; thus the tongue is a squid. He went on to say that the stomach is a cow. All that is, as I said, an extreme presentation. We certainly do not need to go that far. At that time, people were really unable to find the proper things. Today, however, we can certainly present the entire animal world as a spread-out human being and the human being as a synthesis of the entire animal world. We thus connect everything the children observe in the animals with the human being. We therefore have a possibility of placing all the aspects of a human being in front of the child’s eyes by directing the child’s eyes outward.
In the plant world we have just the opposite. There we completely forget the human being and consider the world of plants as entirely growing out of the earth itself, out of the planet upon which we wander. In the one case we bring the animal world into a close relationship to the human being, and in the other case we bring the plant world into the same close relationship to something that exists outside the human being. In other words, on the one hand we bring forth a feeling understanding of the world of animals and the human being by observing the animal world itself. On the other hand, we teach children to objectively consider the earth as an organism upon which we run about and from which we live, and where we see in the growth of plants, in the life cycle of plants, particularly in how plants live from year to year, something that is separate from ourselves. Through these two ways of looking at things, we can bring a tremendous amount of balance between the intellect and feeling into the human soul. We will leave mere intellectualism, which is so boring and arid, behind.
Once people comprehend annual plants, green plants that grow out of the earth with their roots in the earth, leaves, and stems above it, and the green leaves that then go on to form the flower and seed; once people perceive a living connection with the earth and have enlivened that through their experiences of the yearly cycle; once they have experienced how the blossom comes forth when sunlight has connected itself in love with what pours forth out of the earth; once that is felt throughout people’s entire being as a felt knowledge; once people have felt the growth from the root through the leaf to the flower and finally to the seed from spring until fall; once people have felt all that, then they will realize something else. Here is the earth, here is a plant, an annual. This plant that lives only one year is rooted in the earth. Now let us look at a tree. Here it is wood. Here are the branches. What appears on the tree during the course of one year appears similar to an annual plant and sits on the tree in a way similar to an annual plant sitting in the earth. In a certain sense the earth and the part of the tree that is wood are the same. Through that we can create a picture that will have an enormously strong effect upon us. In the same way a tree grows into wood, the earth is built upon what lies under the surface. Where no trees, but only annual plants grow, the forces that are otherwise in the trunk of the tree is in the earth itself. We can achieve a living feeling about how to seek the flowing of the sap in the tree trunk under the surface of the earth. Just as the sap that flows within a tree brings forth the blossoming of the year, the sap flowing beneath us, which we can see is identical to the sap flowing in the tree, brings forth annual plants. What I want to say is that we can intimately connect what we see in trees with our view of the earth. We therefore gain an understanding of what is living.
Through such a living characterization of the earth, plants, animals, and human beings, you can directly enliven something in the children that they would otherwise feel as only dead, specifically, in the period from about the age of nine until twelve. During the time when children are particularly interested in gradually differentiating themselves from the world and unconsciously want to learn about the relationship between the human being and the world of animals, on the one hand and, on the other hand, the earth and earthly life separate from the human being, something will grow within children that gives them the proper relationship to the historical life of humanity on Earth. In this way the appropriate feelings develop that allow children to learn about history properly. Before the age of ten or eleven, we have told children about history only in the form of stories or biographies. At about the age of ten or eleven, we include history within the teaching of natural history, so that everywhere a feeling develops in the child through the teaching of natural history that is, in a certain sense, also held in all the concepts and ideas and feelings that can enliven the teaching of history. Only at the age of twelve can we begin to go on to actual reasoning. We will speak more of that tomorrow.
For centuries, no one has been educated in a way appropriate to human nature, which makes it quite impossible to accurately look at human life and compare it with the life of the earth. People express themselves through their view of the world. Quite understandably, people say, for example, that spring is the morning of the year, summer the day, fall the evening, and winter the night. But in reality it is quite different. When we are sleeping, everything that differentiates us from plants slips out of our human form. When we are sleeping, we are not at all justified in looking as we do. Actually, we look the way we do only because we are shaped in accord with our soul and spirit. While sleeping, we are actually more at the level of plants. At that time, as individual human beings, we are no different from the earth with its plant growth. But to which season does our sleep correspond? When we are sleeping, that corresponds to summer, that is, to that period of the year in which the plants are here. To which season does our wakefulness correspond? That is like winter, when plant life ceases and, in a sense, recedes deep within the earth. In the same way, plant life recedes into the human being and is replaced by something else during the period of awakening until falling asleep again. If we do not follow some vague analogy but follow reality, we would have to say that we need to compare human sleep with summer, and the period of human wakefulness with the earth’s winter. Thus the reality of the situation is actually just the opposite of some vague analogy.
At this point I need to say something rather unusual. I have attempted to determine if anyone working in conventional science has even the slightest idea of what I have spoken of as a result of spiritual-scientific research, namely, that the earth is actually awake in winter and asleep in summer. The only small hint I have found which, if properly developed, would lead to what I have just described, I found in the Basel school program developed in the 1840s or ’50s. In that school program there is a discussion about human sleep that is treated in a manner contradictory to normal considerations. I think it is important to make mention of that school program in Basel. At the moment, I have forgotten the name of the person who created it, but I hope I will remember it by tomorrow.
8. Zoologie- und Botanikunterricht vom 9. bis 12. Jahr
Es ist versucht worden, von verschiedenen Seiten her auf die Einrichtung des Lehrplanes, auf die Gestaltung der Lehrziele aus der Entwickelung des Menschen heraus hinzuweisen. Namentlich versuchte ich ja, die Zeit ungefähr vom 6., 7. Jahre, wenn der Zahnwechsel beginnt, bis zur Geschlechtsreife, bis zum 14., 15. Jahre hin als einen ganzen Lebensabschnitt zu charakterisieren und dann zu zeigen, wie wiederum in diesen Lebensabschnitt sich hineinstellt als ein kleinerer die Zeit bis so um das 9. Lebensjahr herum. Wiederum ist ein wichtiger Umschwung in diesem Lebensabschnitt so um das 12. Jahr herum. Diese drei Zeitpunkte, das 9. Lebensjahr, das 12. Lebensjahr und das 14., 15. Lebensjahr, also dasjenige, das ungefähr den Abgang von der Schule bedeutet, sie sollten bei der ganzen Einrichtung des Lehrplanes und bei der Gestaltung der Lehrziele eigentlich das Maßgebende sein. Und man wird sofort dazu kommen, diese Verfolgung der Entwickelung des Menschen als das Maßgebende zu betrachten, wenn man sich sagt: Es kommt ja wahrhaftig bei der Erziehung des Menschen darauf an, daß wir die Kräfte, die in der menschlichen Wesenheit alle veranlagt liegen, wirklich alle aus dem Menschen herausholen. Wir werden uns, wenn wir in der richtigen Weise so etwas anschauen, sagen: Eigentlich müssen wir den ganzen Lehrstoff und das ganze Erziehungsleben dazu verwenden, um diese Kräfte, die in der menschlichen Wesenheit verborgen liegen, wirklich zur Offenbarung zu bringen. Nicht handelt es sich darum etwa, die kindlichen Kräfte dazu zu verwenden, dies oder jenes aus den Einzelheiten des Wissens aufzunehmen, sondern darum, gerade dasjenige, was wir gewissermaßen als Wissensschatz an das Kind heranbringen, so zu verwenden, daß nur durch die Wirkung dieses Wissensschatzes die Kräfte aus der kindlichen Natur herausgeholt werden. Das werden wir nicht tun, wenn wir nicht Rücksicht darauf nehmen, wie anders die leiblich-seelische Kindesnatur geartet ist bis zum 9, Jahre, bis zum 12. Jahre und so fort. Wir müssen uns ja vor allen Dingen dessen bewußt sein, daß die eigentliche unterscheidende Urteilskraft, dasjenige, was den Menschen befähigt zu urteilen, selbständig zu urteilen, daß das im Grunde genommen erst mit der Geschlechtsreife voll auftritt, und daß es sich vorbereitet langsam von dem 12. Lebensjahre an. So daß wir sagen können: bis zum 9. Jahre entwickelt sich ja schon der Hang der menschlichen Natur unter Autorität sich zu entwickeln; aber es wirkt noch nach bis in dieses 9. Jahr herein das, was man den Nachahmungstrieb nennen kann. Dann verschwindet dieser Nachahmungstrieb, der Hang zur Autorität bleibt. Dann beginnt aber im 12. Lebensjahr ungefähr, noch unter der Leitung der Autorität, die noch weiter wirkt, der entscheidende Trieb, Urteile, selbständige Urteile zu entwickeln. Bauen wir zu sehr auf das selbständige Urteil schon vor dem 12. Jahre, dann ruinieren wir eigentlich die seelisch-leiblichen Kräfte des Kindes, dann ertöten wir vor allen Dingen das ganze menschliche Miterleben mit einem Urteil.
Ja, ein Mensch, der nicht ganz ausgetrocknet ist, für den ist es ja nicht gleichgültig, urteilend zu irgend etwas ja oder nein zu sagen. Je nachdem wir zu diesem oder jenem ja oder nein sagen müssen, empfinden wir Lust und Leid, Freude und Schmerz. Aber allerdings, so sehr es auch die Menschen im Felde des Egoismus empfinden, was sie zu beurteilen haben als lustvoll und als leidvoll, so wenig sind die Menschen heute dazu erzogen, das Ganze des Lebens und der Welt lustvoll und leidvoll zu empfinden. Aber dadurch geht einem als Mensch viel verloren. Und außerdem beeinflußt dieses Nichterlebenkönnen der Welt auch das ganze soziale Wollen. Daher ist wirklich nicht bloß auf die Heranbildung richtiger Begriffe im Lehrstoff besonderer Wert zu legen, sondern auch auf die Heranbildung einer richtigen Weltempfindung, eines richtigen Sichhineinstellens in die Welt.
Heute beherrscht die Menschheit ja fast einzig und allein ein Urteil in sozialer Beziehung. Sie sagen sich: Die Welt muß so eingerichtet werden, daß sie für alle Menschen eine Art irdisches Paradies darstellt. Was wollen denn schließlich die extremen, die radikalen Sozialisten Osteuropas anderes, als aus irgendwelchen Theorien heraus das soziale Leben so gestalten, daß eine Art irdisches Paradies entsteht- wenn auch in Wirklichkeit dann aus dem Paradies eine Hölle wird, das ist ja natürlich etwas, was auf einem andern Blatte steht. Woher kommt denn das? Man braucht nur ein anderes Urteil an die Stelle dieses Urteils zu setzen und man wird merken, woran gerade dieses Urteil, das ganze irdische Leben durch irgendwelche sozialen Zwangsmaßregeln zu einer Art Paradies zu machen, krankt. Nicht um etwa vor Ihnen hier Nietzscheanismus zu treiben sage ich das Folgende, aber um damit etwas zu erläutern. Nietzsche hat seine erste Schrift unter dem Titel verfaßt: »Die Geburt der Tragödie aus dem Geiste der Musik«. Unter den mannigfaltigen, sehr anregenden Ideen - gegen die man aber sehr viel polemisieren kann — dieser Schrift ist auch diese, daß das Griechenvolk nicht jenes ewig heitere, lächelnde Volk war, als welches es von manchen Menschen dargestellt wird, sondern daß das griechische Volk auf dem Grunde seines Lebens Tragik hatte, Lebenstrauer, und gerade die Griechen es waren, welche empfanden, daß unser Leben zwischen Geburt und Tod, das Leben, das wir hier im Irdischen vollbringen, nicht ein restlos glückliches sein kann, daß des Menschen Aufgabe weiter liegt als dieses irdische Leben. Nietzsche meinte, die Griechen hätten das ganz besonders empfunden und hätten auch einen kräftigen Trost für die Disharmonien des irdischen Lebens gebraucht, den sie in der Kunst fanden. Nietzsche sieht geradezu die Entstehung der Kunst so an, daß er sich sagt: Die Kunst ist der Trost besonders bei dem griechischen Menschen gewesen über die irdischen Disharmonien, und insbesondere auch in der Musik sieht Nietzsche etwas, was über die irdische Disharmonie hinausführen soll. Es ist ja so, daß gewissermaßen ein Gegensatz besteht zwischen unserem trockenen, nüchtern rechnenden Denken und zwischen dem, was der Mensch erlebt, wenn er musikalisch erlebt. Es berühren sich ja da in einer ganz eigentümlichen Weise auch die Gegensätze. Denken Sie doch, daß man die Töne und Tonverhältnisse in Zahlen berechnen kann, dann haben wir Tonphysik, Akustik! Derjenige aber, der sich hingibt der musikalischen Welt der Töne, für den verbirgt sich das, was man da rechnen kann, vollständig. Das Intellektuelle wird gerade im Musikalischen vollständig zugedeckt. Das Intellektuelle schläft im Musikalischen. Das ist etwas, was Nietzsche ganz besonders empfand. Er nannte das das Tragische bei der Musik, durch das der Mensch sich hingegeben empfindet an dasjenige, was er sonst an der Welt empfinden müsse. Ja nun, Nietzsche ist eben ein Mensch gewesen, der durch seine besondere Organisation so recht empfunden hat dasjenige, was der Materialismus des 19. Jahrhunderts in die Menschheit hineingetragen hat. Wahrhaftig, dieser Pädagoge, der da träumte von Bildungsanstalten, die aus solch einer Idee hervorgehen könnten wie die, die ich jetzt gerade als die seinige charakterisiert habe, die sein könnten die Quellen eines wirklichen Lebenstrostes, wahrhaftig dieser Nietzsche, er hat manches von dem durch sein eigenes Leben verraten, wessen das 19. Jahrhundert bedarf. Er ist nur zusammengebrochen unter dem Erleben gerade eben der Disharmonien des 19. Jahrhunderts. Und wenn man gewissermaßen zwischen den Zeilen dieses Menschen liest, dem es sozusagen schicksalsbestimmt war, dasjenige tief innerlich zu erleben, worüber die anderen im 19. Jahrhundert mehr oder weniger im Seelenschlaf dahingegangen sind, dann, dann sieht man, wie er doch immer hinweist auf dasjenige, was seiner eigenen Erziehung und namentlich der Erziehung, die er hätte durch den Unterricht erhalten sollen, gefehlt hat. Man hat gerade bei Nietzsche das Gefühl: die Kräfte, die in ihm waren, sie sind unten, tief unten geblieben. Sie sind nicht herausgeholt worden. Das empfand natürlich ein so genialer Mensch noch viel tragischer als ein anderer. Man kann leicht sagen, daß da oder dort aufmerksam gemacht worden sei auf die drei Abschnitte im Leben des Kindes besonders zwischen dem 6., 7. und dem 14., 15. Jahre. Aber so richtig sind diese Lebensabschnitte niemals in den Dienst der Pädagogik bisher gestellt worden, und das muß besonders geschehen.
Im 9. Jahre erlebt das Kind wirklich eine völlige Umgestaltung seines Wesens, die hinweist auf eine bedeutsame Umgestaltung seines Seelenlebens, auf eine bedeutsame Umgestaltung seines leiblich-physischen Erlebens. Der Mensch beginnt von da ab sich abgesondert zu fühlen von seiner Umgebung. Er lernt unterscheiden Welt und Ich. Wenn wir richtig zu beobachten verstehen, so müssen wir sagen: Welt und Ich fließen mehr oder weniger bis zu diesem Lebensumschwung im menschlichen Bewußtsein zusammen. Vom 9. Lebensjahre an — natürlich ist das alles approximativ gemeint — unterscheidet der Mensch sich und die Welt. Dies muß durchaus beachtet werden bei dem, was wir als Unterrichtsstoff und Erziehungsleben vom 9. Lebensjahre an an das Kind heranbringen. Wir tun gut, bis dahin nicht allzusehr das Kind zu beirren mit der Schilderung, der Charakteristik von Dingen, die abgesondert vom Menschen sind oder abgesondert vom Menschen betrachtet werden. Wenn wir dem Kind eine Fabel erzählen, wenn wir den Kindern Märchen erzählen, so fabulieren wir über Tiere und vielleicht über Pflanzen so, wie wir etwa auch über einen Menschen sprechen können, Tiere und Pflanzen werden personifiziert, sagen wir wohl auch. Sie werden mit Recht personifiziert, weil das Kind noch nicht unterscheidet zwischen Ich und Welt; aus diesem Grunde soll das Kind die Welt ähnlich sehen dem, was es in sich selber erlebt. Wir müssen uns klar sein, daß das, was ich da schildere, nicht eine Verarmung des kindlichen Lebens ist im 9. Jahre, sondern eine Bereicherung.
Es wird Ihnen ganz paradox erscheinen, daß ich diesen letzten Satz eben ausspreche. Allein dieser letzte Satz so ausgesprochen, wie ich es jetzt getan habe, wirkt paradox. Aber dasjenige, was man oftmals über das kindliche Leben sagt, das wird durchaus in dem Sinne ausgesprochen, daß eigentlich das kindliche Leben nach und nach nicht reicher wird, sondern eigentlich verarmt. Bedenken Sie, was man heute oftmals sagt, wenn sich ein Kind an einer Tischecke einen Schmerz zufügt und in der Wut den Tisch schlägt. Man sagt dann, das Kind habe in seiner Seele etwas, das man Animismus nennt. Das Kind belebe den Tisch, schiebe gewissermaßen seine Seele in den Tisch hinein. Dies ist indessen eine unmögliche Theorie. Warum? Weil sich das Kind nicht als ein unmittelbar Lebendiges betrachtet, das sich in den Tisch hineinversetzt, den Tisch von sich aus personifiziert, sondern weil das Kind sich selber nicht lebendiger denkt als den Tisch. Das Kind schaut den Tisch an, und es hat noch nicht mehr an sich erlebt, als es äußerlich am Tisch erlebt. Nicht, daß das Kind den Tisch personifiziert, sondern, wenn ich mich so ausdrücken darf, es vertischt seine Persönlichkeit, es macht seine Persönlichkeit nicht reicher, als der Tisch ist. Wenn Sie daher dem Kinde Märchen erzählen, Fabeln erzählen, dann reden Sie ihm von so vielem, als das Kind von der äußeren Welt auffassen kann. Das muß bis zum 9. Lebensjahre geschehen. Von da ab können Sie beginnen, damit zu rechnen, daß das Kind Ich und Welt voneinander unterscheiden lernt. Das heißt, von da ab können wir erst über Pflanzen und Tiere naturgeschichtlich mit dem Kinde reden.
Ich habe mir wirklich viel Mühe gegeben, die Wirkung verfrühter naturgeschichtlicher Betrachtungen auf Kinder zu studieren. Verfrühte naturgeschichtliche Betrachtungen machen in der Tat das Kind später trocken, trocken bis dahinein, daß ein guter Beobachter es, ich möchte sagen, an der Anlage zur Vergilbtheit der Haut beim Menschen bemerken kann, wenn zu früh naturgeschichtliche Begriffe an das Kind herangebracht werden.
Im 9. Lebensjahre ist der Zeitpunkt gegeben, wo wir beginnen dürfen, naturgeschichtliche Begriffe an das Kind heranzubringen, aber auch erst noch lebendige Begriffe; womöglich ist noch zu vermeiden, Mineralisches, Totes an das Kind in dieser Zeit heranzubringen. Lebendiges, das außermenschliche Lebendige, es steht ja in zwei Gebieten, zwei Sphären vor uns, in dem tierischen Gebiete und in dem pflanzlichen Gebiete. Aber wenn wir nun dasjenige, wozu es die Menschen gebracht haben in der Beschreibung der Tiere, in der wissenschaftlichen Charakteristik der Tiere, in der wissenschaftlichen Beschreibung und Charakteristik der Pflanzen, wenn wir das in populären kurzen Büchern für die Kinder verarbeiten, versuchen, äußerlich populär zu besprechen, so kommen wir dadurch dem Kinde doch nicht bei. Es ist fast durch alle unsere naturgeschichtlichen Handbücher zu verfolgen, daß sie eigentlich nichts anderes sind als etwas filtrierte, naturwissenschaftliche Gelehrsamkeit, und das ist schrecklich. Freilich, auf der anderen Seite hat man dann versucht, aufzubauen auf naturwissenschaftlichem Anschauungsunterricht. Allein da gibt es ja wiederum methodische Bücher. Aber die leiden an dem entgegengesetzten Fehler. Da ist viel Trivialität drinnen. Da sucht man womöglich nichts mit dem Kinde zu besprechen, als was das Kind schon selber weiß, und sucht, wie man sagt, recht anschaulich nur aus der Natur des Kindes heraus zu schöpfen. Dadurch verfällt man in die Trivialität. Und manche der methodischen Handbücher, die da existieren, der methodischen Anleitungen, sie sind zum Verzweifeln eigentlich, weil sie so furchtbar trivial sind. Man fühlt: wenn so etwas in der Schule wirksam würde, würde alles Schädliche der Trivialität in den Menschen hineingepflanzt werden. Und die Trivialität, mit der man imKindesalter wirtschaftet, die drückt sich später nun ebenfalls wie manches andere, was ich schon erwähnt habe, in einer Verödung des menschlichen Lebens aus; mindestens in einer solchen Ausgestaltung des Lebens, die es dem Menschen unmöglich macht, mit voller Freude in sein Kindesalter zurückzublicken. Das aber ist eigentlich etwas, was der Mensch braucht. Es ist notwendig, daß wir das ganze Leben hindurch in der Lage sind, auf unser Kindesschulalter als auf etwas Paradiesisches zurückzublicken. Nicht deshalb, weil wir etwa da nur Freudiges erlebt haben. Darauf kommt es nicht einmal so stark an, daß wir da nur Freudiges erlebt haben. Es kann mancher im Kindesalter gehungert haben, es kann mancher von seinen Lehrern im Unverstande vielleicht verprügelt worden sein, lieblos behandelt worden sein - selbstverständlich darf niemals etwas anderes pädagogischer Grundsatz werden, als die Absicht, alle diese Dinge in der bestmöglichen Weise zu bekämpfen -, aber es kann so etwas vorgekommen sein, und dennoch kann das Zurückerinnern an das Kindesleben eine Quelle von Belebung sein, wenn wenigstens von der einen oder von der anderen Seite her wir im Kindesalter die Möglichkeit empfangen haben, ein Verhältnis zur Welt zu gewinnen. Ein Verhältnis zur Welt müssen wir gerade dadurch gewinnen, daß in der richtigen Weise der naturgeschichtliche Unterrichtsstoff an das Kind herangebracht wird. Es hilft gar nichts, wenn wir dem Kinde die aufeinanderfolgenden Klassen der Tiere beschreiben oder die aufeinanderfolgenden Klassen und Arten und so weiter der Pflanzen beschreiben und dann, gewissermaßen um nicht trocken zu werden, auch einmal mit den Kindern einen Spaziergang machen, um die Pflanzen im Freien den Kindern zu zeigen; das nützt eigentlich gar nicht viel. Gewiß, nach der instinktiven Veranlagung wird ja der eine Lehrer mehr, der andere weniger bewirken. Er wird recht viel durch eine gewisse ihm selbst eigene Hinneigung zur Natur auch in den Kindern anregen können. Aber dasjenige, was aus Geisteswissenschaft in den Menschen und in sein Gemüt übergehen kann, das ist doch noch etwas ganz anderes, das bringt uns die Empfindung von einem lebendigen Zusammengehören des Menschen mit der ganzen übrigen Welt.
Man lacht heute darüber, daß eigentlich im ersten Drittel des 19. Jahrhunderts noch bei vielen Menschen ein Gefühl vorhanden war dafür, daß die ganze Tierwelt ein ausgebreiteter Mensch ist. Wir haben verschiedene Tierklassen. Die eine Tierklasse ist nach der einen Richtung einseitig gebildet, die andere Tierklasse nach der anderen Richtung. Wir können uns einen Überblick verschaffen über die verschiedenen Tierklassen, Tiergattungen, Tierarten und so weiter. Der Mensch enthält alles das an Kräften, an innerer Gestaltung, was über die Tiere verteilt ist. Davon ging die naturwissenschaftliche Betrachtung, sagen wir, noch eines Oken aus. Mit Feuer vertrat Oken so etwas. Man suchte draußen in der Natur niedere Tiere. Heute sagt die materialistische Naturwissenschaft, diese niederen Tiere, die seien in der Urzeit dagewesen, sie hätten sich allmählich vervollkommnet, und daraus sei der heutige Mensch entstanden, ein vervollkommnetes physisches Wesen. Auf die Einzelheiten brauchen wir hier nicht einzugehen, da wir es hier nicht mit gewöhnlicher Wissenschaft, sondern mit Pädagogik zu tun haben. Aber kann man denn nicht sehen, wie dasjenige, was menschliches Haupt ist, außen die knöcherne Schale, innen die weichen Teile, gerade gewissen niederen Tieren ähnlich sieht? Nehmen Sie Schnecken, nehmen Sie Muscheltiere, die sind ähnlich dem menschlichen Haupte. Und wenn Sie unsere mehr oder weniger entwickelten Vögel nehmen, so werden Sie sich sagen müssen: Da ist in Anpassung an die Luft, in Anpassung an die ganze übrige Lebensweise dasjenige ganz besonders ausgebildet, was beim Menschen zurücktritt als innere Lungenbildung und dergleichen. Wenn Sie sich das wegdenken, was beim Menschen in die Gliedmaßen fließt, wenn Sie sich denken die ganze Organisation mehr im Innern gehalten und angepaßt an die Lebensverhältnisse in der Luft, dann bekommen Sie die Organisation des Vogels. Vergleichen Sie die Organisation des Löwen oder der Katze mit der Organisation des Rindes, Sie werden überall sehen: bei der einen Tiergattung ist das eine Glied der Organisation mehr ausgebildet, bei der anderen Tiergattung ein anderes Glied der Organisation mehr ausgebildet. Jede Tiergattung ist auf eines hin besonders organisiert. Von der Schnecke können wir sagen: sie ist fast ganz Kopf, sie hat nichts anderes als Kopf. Nur ist sie ein einfacher, primitiver Kopf. Der menschliche Kopf ist komplizierter. Vom Vogel können wir sagen: er ist gewissermaßen ganz Lunge, entsprechend umgebildet, weil alles andere verkümmert ist. Vom Löwen können wir sagen: er ist gewissermaßen ganz Blutzirkulation und Herz. Vom Rind können wir sagen: es ist ganz Magen. Und so können wir draußen in der Natur die verschiedenen Gattungen und Arten so charakterisieren, daß wir hinschauen auf die einzelnen Organe. Das, was ich jetzt sage, das kann durchaus auch in sehr einfacher, primitiver Weise gesagt werden. Und dann, wenn man die Welt des Tierreiches überschaut und alles dasjenige, was da wie der große Fächer von Wesenheiten auseinandergebreitet ist, wenn man das dann vergleicht mit der menschlichen Organisation, wie im Menschen alles abgerundet ist, wie kein Organisationssystem sich vordrängt, eines an das andere angepaßt ist, da finden wir: Ja, bei den Tieren sind immer die Organsysteme an die Außenwelt angepaßt; beim Menschen sind nicht die Organsysteme an die Außenwelt angepaßt, sondern eins ans andere. Der Mensch ist eine abgeschlossene Totalität, eine abgeschlossene Ganzheit, was ich Ihnen hier nur skizzenhaft andeuten kann.
Denken Sie sich einmal, wir verwenden alles, was wir verwenden können, das naturgeschichtliche Kabinett der Schule, jeden Spaziergang, den wir mit den Kindern machen, alles dasjenige, was das Kind erlebt hat, wir verwenden alles, um in lebendiger Darstellung zu schildern, wie der ganze Mensch gewissermaßen ein Kompendium der Tierwelt ist, wie in ihm alles harmonisch gestaltet, abgerundet ist, wie die Tiere einseitige Ausbildungen darstellen und deshalb keines die volle Beseelung haben kann und wie der Mensch die Anpassung des einen Organsystemes an das andere darstellt und gerade dadurch die Möglichkeit, ein vollbeseeltes Wesen zu sein, erhält. Wir können uns, wenn wir selber ganz überzeugt und durchgeistigt sind von diesem Verhältnis des Menschen zur Welt der Tiere, dann aufschwingen, dieses Verhältnis auch lebendig zu schildern, so daß die Darstellung eine ganz objektive ist, aber daß zu gleicher Zeit der Mensch sein Verhältnis zur Welt fühlt. Denken Sie doch nur, was es denn für einen Wert hat, wenn man heute dem Menschen im materialistischen Zeitalter sagt, er sei die Krone der Erdenschöpfung. Er versteht es ja nicht im einzelnen. Er betrachtet sich. Er betrachtet das einzelne Tier. Er betrachtet nicht jedes einzelne Tier so,daß er versucht zu erkennen, wie diesÖrgansystem bei dieser, wie ein anderes bei der anderen Tierklasse einseitig ausgebildet ist. Er betrachtet auch nicht das Zusammenfassende im Menschen. Wenn wir dies tun, dann wird unser Erkennen unmittelbar ein Fühlen, ein Empfinden unserer Stellung zur Welt, dann hören wir auf, egoistisch nur in uns zu fühlen, dann geht unser Gefühl hinaus in die Welt.
Man versuche nur einmal in diesem Sinne zu unterrichten, und man wird sehen, welchen Wert ein solches Unterrichten für das Gemüt des Kindes hat. Es verwandelt sich solches Erkennen durchaus in Empfindung. Der Mensch wird unter dem Einfluß eines solchen Erkennens nach und nach bescheiden. Der Unterrichtsstoff wird wirklich als Erziehungsmittel verwendet. Was nützt es denn, wenn wir immer wieder sagen, wir sollen nicht bloß trocken unterrichten, nicht bloß dem Kinde Wissensstoff beibringen, wenn wir keine Möglichkeit haben, den Wissensstoff so umzuwandeln, daß er unmittelbar Erziehungsmittel wird? Manchmal, wenn immer wiederum betont wird, das zu viele Wissen, das wir dem Kinde beibringen, verhindere die richtige Entwickelung des Kindes, so möchte man sagen: Ja, aber warum werft ihr denn dann, wenn das Unterrichten nichts ist, nicht den ganzen Unterrichtsstoff aus der Schule heraus? Das kann man natürlich nicht tun. Der Unterrichtsstoff muß eben zum Erziehungsmittel gemacht werden. Der naturgeschichtliche Unterricht wird es mit Bezug auf die Tierheit durch eine Behandlung im angedeuteten Sinne und indem wir ihn nicht an das Kind herankommen lassen, bevor es das 9. Jahr überschritten hat.
Bei der Pflanzenwelt geht es uns nicht so, daß wir nun auch die einzelne Pflanzenart oder Pflanzengattung einseitig darstellen können und dann alles dasjenige, was da zusammengefaßt wird, etwa im Menschen wiederum sehen können. Die Betrachtungsweise, die so fruchtbar ist für die Tiere, die uns eine so gute Grundlage abgibt für eine künstlerisch lebendige Gestaltung des zoologischen Wesens, sie versagt beim Pflanzenreich. Das können wir nicht so betrachten; das geht nicht: da müssen wir etwas ganz anderes zu Hilfe nehmen. Dieses ganze Pflanzenwesen müssen wir als zur Erde, zur ganzen Erde lebendig hinzugehörig betrachten.
Unser Materialismus hat es dazu gebracht, die Erde wie eine Kugel aus Steinen, aus Mineralien bestehend zu betrachten, und die Pflanzen gleichsam so drinnen steckend. Wir dürfen dasselbe Prinzip nicht anwenden, sagen wir, auf das menschliche Haupt und seine Haare. Wir werden den Haarwuchs als etwas betrachten, was zum menschlichen Haupt gehört. So müssen wir die Erde mit ihrem Pflanzenwuchs als etwas betrachten, was zum Organismus Erde hinzugehört. Wir schaffen uns ein Abstraktum, wenn wir die bloß steinerne Erde betrachten, die höchstens noch die Schwerkraft ihr eigen nennt. Wir reden von der wirklichen Erde, wenn wir den Organismus Erde so betrachten, daß die Pflanzen zu ihm gehören, wie die Haare unseres Hauptes zu uns gehören. Dann aber, wenn man das so betrachtet, wachsen einem im Anschauen der Erde die Pflanzen mit der Erde zusammen, und man bekommt den richtigen Instinkt dafür, nun die Erde im Zusammenhang mit ihrer Pflanzenwelt wirklich ins Auge zu fassen. Das tun wir dann, wenn wir die Erde im Zeitenlaufe, im Jahreskreislaufe betrachten. Wenn wir tatsächlich Naturgeschichte der Pflanzen mit dem Kinde betreiben, müssen wir nicht Klasse neben Klasse, Art neben Art stellen. Wir müssen vielmehr alles zu Hilfe nehmen, was wir haben, das naturgeschichtliche Kabinett, die Spaziergänge, alles dasjenige, woran sich das Kind erinnert, alles dasjenige, was wir an frischen Pflanzen in die Klasse schleppen können, und dann dem Kinde schildern: Der Frühling zaubert diese oder jene Pflanze aus der Erde hervor, zaubert von den Pflanzen dies oder jenes hervor, da schaut es so aus — dann schreiten wir weiter in den Mai hinein, da wird die Erde so; dann schreiten wir weiter in den Sommer hinein, da wird die Erde so.
Wir versuchen, die Blüten der Pflanzen nicht anders ins Auge zu fassen als ein Kind der Zeitentwickelung der Erde im Jahreskreislauf. Wir reden dem Kinde davon, wie im Herbste die Pflanzensamen wiederum zurück zur Erde gehen, wie der Kreislauf von neuem beginnt. Wir fassen die Erde als einen Organismus auf und verfolgen dieses lebendige Aufsprießen und wieder Zurückgehen der Pflanzen. Wir nennen dem Kinde den Namen - der ja etwas Konventionelles ist — erst dann, wenn wir es dazu hingeführt haben: »Sieh einmal, da hast du dieses Pflänzchen: das ist so und so — unter Bäumen oder von Bäumen entfernt. Da steht dieses Pflänzchen, weil im Mai diese Pflänzchen so und so gedeihen; das hat fünf Blättchen. Erinnere dich...da ist es: das, was da fünf gelbliche Blättchen hat, hängt mit dem ganzen Leben der Erde im Mai zusammen; das ist der Hahnenfuß!« und so weiter, so daß die ganze Naturgeschichte der Pflanzenwelt als das Jahresleben der Erde erscheint. Und dann geht man weiter über auf jene etwas mehr verborgenen Dinge, wie gewisse Pflanzen zur Weihnachtszeit blühen, wie andere Pflanzen überdauern, wie manche lange überdauern. Man geht über von dem Leben des einen Krautes, das im Jahreslaufe die Erde schmückt und wiederum weggeht, man geht über von da zum Wachstum des Baumes und so weiter. Niemals betrachtet man bloß Pflanze neben Pflanze, sondern die Erde mit ihrem Pflanzenwachstum, und das Pflanzenwachstum herausentstehend aus der lebendigen Erde.
Da haben Sie zwei wunderschöne Pole ins naturgeschichtliche Leben hineingestellt. Mit dem Tierreich etwas, was überall auf den Menschen hinweist. Der Mensch fühlt sich selber wie heraussynthetisiert aus den Einseitigkeiten des Tierreiches. Keine Tierspezies betrachten wir, ohne daß wir auf dasjenige im Menschen hinweisen, was diese Tierspezies besonders einseitig entwickelt hat. Das Tierreich wird uns ganz ein auseinandergelegtes Menschenreich, ein fächerförmig ausgebreitetes Menschenreich. Wie gesagt, die heutigen Menschen lachen über solche Dinge. Allerdings, das erste Drittel des 19. Jahrhunderts hat das manchmal bis zum Grotesken gebracht. Solche Leute wie Oken, sie haben ein solch groteskes Wort ausgesprochen, ich will das nicht verteidigen: Die Zunge ist ein Tintenfisch. Da hat Oken natürlich das richtige Prinzip im Auge gehabt. Er hat die Zunge des Menschen genommen, er hat in jeder einzelnen Art der Tierklassen etwas gesucht. Das hat er dann verglichen mit dem Organ des Menschen, und bei dem Tintenfisch fand er eben die größte Ähnlichkeit mit der Zunge: die Zunge ist ein Tintenfisch. Der Magen ist ein Wiederkäuer und so weiter. Das ist, wie gesagt, wiederum die Ausartung gewesen, das radikale Extrem. Man braucht ja nicht bis dahin zu gehen. Man konnte auch in der damaligen Zeit die Dinge noch nicht richtig finden; aber heute, heute können wir allerdings die gesamte Tierwelt wie fächerförmig ausgebreitet im Menschen schildern, den Menschen so als die Synthese der ganzen tierischen Welt hinstellen. Wir tragen alles, was dann in der Tierreihe mit den Kindern beobachtet wird, an den Menschen heran. Wir haben die Möglichkeit, dem Kinde, indem es die Augen nach außen richtet, gewissermaßen die Elemente seines Menschtums vor Augen zu stellen.
Im Pflanzenreich, da haben wir gerade das Entgegengesetzte. Da vergessen wir den Menschen ganz und betrachten das Pflanzenreich ganz und gar aus der Erde selbst herauswachsend, aus dem Planeten, auf dem wir herumwandeln. Das eine Mal bringen wir das Tierreich in engstes Verhältnis zum Menschen, das andere Mal bringen wir das Pflanzenreich in das engste Verhältnis zu dem, was außermenschlich, objektiv ist. Mit anderen Worten: auf der einen Seite rufen wir das empfindende Verstehen des Tierreiches und des Menschen selbst durch die Betrachtung des Tierreiches hervor; auf der anderen Seite erziehen wir den Menschen, die Erde in ihrer Objektivität zu betrachten, als einen Organismus, auf dem er herumläuft und von dem er lebt, und auf dem das, was er sieht in dem Wachsen der Pflanzen, in dem jährlichen Leben der Pflanzen, in dem besonderen Überdauern der Pflanzen dieses Jahres und so weiter, abgesondert von ihm ist. Durch diese zweifache Betrachtungsweise bringen wir ungeheuer viel von dem, was man Gleichgewicht zwischen dem Intellektuellen und dem Gemüthaften nennen kann, in diese Menschenseele hinein. Dies führt dazu, daß das bloße Intellektualistische, das so pedantisierend und austrocknend wirkt, zurücktritt. Wenn man begreift die Jahrespflanze, die krautartige Pflanze herauswachsend aus der Erde, die Wurzel in der Erde, Blättchen und Stengel heraus, die grünen Blätter bis herauf zur Blüte und Samenbildung, wenn man das lebendig empfindet im Zusammenhang mit der Erde und einem das noch besonders lebendig gemacht wird dadurch, daß man es im Jahreskreislauf erlebt; daß man erlebt, wie die Blüte hervorgeholt wird, wenn das Sonnenlicht sich, ich möchte sagen, in Liebe verbindet mit demjenigen, was aus der Erde herausquillt, wenn das ganz durchempfunden wird als empfindende Erkenntnis, als erkennende Empfindung, wenn man so vom Frühling in den Herbst hin empfindet das Werden von der Wurzel durch das Blatt bis zur Blüte und zum Samen, wenn man das alles empfindet, dann kommt einem etwas anderes. Sehen Sie, da ist die Erde, da die Pflanze, die Jahrespflanze. Die einjährige Pflanze, sie wurzelt in der Erde drinnen. Jetzt betrachten wir den Baum; hier ist er verholzt, da sind die Äste. Was da erscheint in einem Jahre, das empfindet man ja ähnlich wie die einjährige Pflanze, das sitzt so ähnlich an dem Baum, wie die einjährige Pflanze in der Erde sitzt. Gewissermaßen wird einem die Erde und dasjenige, was da Holz des Baumes ist, eine Einheit, und man bekommt die ungeheuer stark auf uns wirkende Vorstellung: indem der Baum mit seinem Holz herauswächst, türmt sich die Erde selbst auf und dasjenige, was unter der Erde ist; wo keine Bäume, sondern die Jahrespflanzen wachsen, da ist die Kraft, die sonst in den Baumstamm heraufquillt, in der Erde selbst drinnen. Man bekommt eine lebendige Empfindung, den Säftestrom des Baumstammes zu suchen unter der Oberfläche der Erde. Und so wie der Säftestrom des Baumstammes nun eben die Blüte des Jahres hervortreibt, so treibt der Säftestrom unten, den man identisch mit dem Säftestrom des Baumstammes weiß, die einjährige Pflanze hervor. Ich möchte sagen: die Anschauung des Baumstammes verwächst einem mit der Anschauung der Erde. In das Lebendige kommt man hinein.
Kann man mit einer lebendigen Charakteristik von Erde, Pflanzenreich, Tierheit und Menschentum in dem Kinde das, was sonst nur tot empfunden wird, einfach und elementar beleben - und zwar namentlich in der Zeit vom 9. bis gegen das 12. Jahr hin, wo das Kind besonders veranlagt ist, sich nach und nach von der Welt zu unterscheiden und doch begierig ist, im Unbewußten aufzunehmen auf der einen Seite den Zusammenhang des Menschen mit dem Tierreich, auf der andern Seite das, was absondert vom Menschen, was Erde und Erdenleben ist —, dann wächst mit dem Menschen etwas heran, was ihn auch in das richtige Verhältnis zum geschichtlichen Leben der Menschheit auf der Erde bringt. Dann erst entwickeln sich die Empfindungen, die dann in der richtigen Weise die Geschichte aufnehmen. Vor dem 10., 11. Jahr wird man selbstverständlich die Geschichte nur in der Form der Erzählung, des Biographischen getrieben haben. Im 10., 11. Jahr wird man die Geschichte durchaus so zum naturgeschichtlichen Unterricht hinzunehmen, daß man überall das, was man im Menschen heranzieht an Empfindungen, die aus dem naturgeschichtlichen Unterricht kommen, gewissermaßen intensiv zusammenhält mit dem, was nun auch die Begriffe, die Ideen, die Empfindungen des geschichtlichen Unterrichts beleben kann. Erst im 12. Jahr ist eigentlich die Möglichkeit gegeben, überzugehen zu dem, was das eigentliche Urteil ist. Davon wollen wir dann morgen sprechen.
Sehen Sie, es ist merkwürdig, die Unmöglichkeit, das Menschenleben richtig anzusehen und es richtig zu vergleichen mit dem Erdenleben, die rührt davon her, daß man eigentlich durch Jahrhunderte hindurch eine solche naturgemäße Erziehung nicht genossen hat. Die Menschen veräußerlichen sich sehr in ihrer Anschauung der Welt. Die Menschen sagen zum Beispiel ganz begreiflicherweise: Frühling, das ist der Morgen des Jahres; Sommer, der Tag des Jahres; Herbst, der Abend des Jahres; Winter, die Nacht des Jahres. Ist das aber in Wirklichkeit so? In Wirklichkeit ist es ganz anders, Wenn wir schlafen, dann ist alles das, was uns von der Pflanze unterscheidet, aus unserer menschheitlichen Organisation herausgewichen. Wir sind schlafend eigentlich gar nicht berechtigt, so auszusehen, wie wir sind. Eigentlich sehen wir nur deshalb gerade so aus, weil wir auf das Beseeltsein und das Durchgeistigtsein hin organisiert sind. Schlafend sind wir eigentlich Pflanzenwesen, sind wir auf der Höhe der Pflanzenwesen. Da sind wir als einzelner Mensch nichts anderes, als die Erde mit ihrem Pflanzenwachstum ist. Aber welcher Jahreszeit entspricht es, wenn wir schlafen? Wenn wir schlafen, entspricht dies dem Sommer, das heißt der Jahreszeit, in welcher die Pflanzen da sind. Und welcher Jahreszeit entspricht es, wenn wir wachen? Wie im Winter das pflanzliche Leben aufhört und sich gewissermaßen ins Innere der Erde zurückzieht, so zieht sich auch beim Menschen in der Zeit vom Aufwachen bis zum Einschlafen das pflanzliche Leben zurück und wird durch etwas anderes ersetzt. Wenn wir nicht nach einer vagen Analogie gehen, sondern nach der Wirklichkeit, müssen wir sagen: Den menschlichen Schlaf haben wir zu vergleichen mit der Sommerzeit, das menschliche Wachen mit der Winterzeit der Erde. Die Wirklichkeit ist somit gerade das Gegenteil dessen, was wir als vage Analogie annehmen.
Was ich Ihnen jetzt gesagt habe, das ist etwas, was Geisteswissenschaft immer behandeln muß, und ich möchte niemals dilettantisch, sondern immer ganz sachgemäß zu Werke gehen. Hier an dieser Stelle muß ich eigentlich etwas sehr Eigentümliches sagen. Ich habe nun nachgeforscht, ob jemandem, der in der äußeren Wissenschaft tätig ist, wenigstens eine Spur von dem aufgegangen ist, was ich hier als geisteswissenschaftliches Ergebnis ausgesprochen habe, daß nämlich die Erde eigentlich im Winter wacht und im Sommer schläft. Nun, den einzigen kleinen Hinweis, der richtig weiter verfolgt, zu dem eben Ausgesprochenen hinführen würde, habe ich tatsächlich in einem aus den fünfziger oder vierziger Jahren stammenden Basler Schulprogramm gefunden. In einem Basler Schulprogramm findet sich eine Abhandlung über den Schlaf des Menschen, und der Schlaf des Menschen wird dort in einer der gewöhnlichen Betrachtungsweise entgegengesetzten Art behandelt. Der Gerechtigkeit halber möchte ich auf dieses Basler Schulprogramm hinweisen. Im Augenblick ist mir der Name des Verfassers nicht gegenwärtig, ich hoffe aber, daß er mir noch einfallen wird, damit ich ihn bis morgen nachtragen kann.
8. Zoology and botany lessons from grades 9 to 12
Various attempts have been made to draw attention to the structure of the curriculum and the formulation of teaching objectives based on human development. Specifically, I attempted to characterize the period from around the age of 6 or 7, when teeth begin to change, to sexual maturity at around the age of 14 or 15 as a whole stage of life, and then to show how, within this stage of life, there is a smaller period up to around the age of 9. Again, an important turning point in this stage of life occurs around the age of 12. These three points in time, the age of 9, the age of 12, and the age of 14 or 15, which roughly corresponds to leaving school, should actually be the decisive factors in the overall structure of the curriculum and in the formulation of teaching objectives. And one will immediately come to regard this pursuit of human development as the decisive factor when one says to oneself: What really matters in the education of human beings is that we truly bring out all the powers that are inherent in the human being. If we look at this in the right way, we will say to ourselves: Actually, we must use the entire curriculum and the entire educational life to truly reveal these powers that lie hidden in the human being. It is not a matter of using the child's powers to absorb this or that from the details of knowledge, but of using precisely what we bring to the child as a treasure trove of knowledge in such a way that only through the effect of this treasure trove of knowledge are the powers drawn out of the child's nature. We will not do this if we do not take into account how differently the physical and soul nature of children is constituted up to the age of 9, up to the age of 12, and so on. Above all, we must be aware that the actual power of discernment, that which enables human beings to judge, to judge independently, only fully emerges with sexual maturity, and that it develops slowly from the age of 12 onwards. So we can say that up to the age of 9, the tendency of human nature to develop under authority is already developing, but what we might call the imitative instinct continues to have an effect into this 9th year. Then this imitative instinct disappears, but the tendency toward authority remains. Then, around the age of 12, still under the guidance of authority, which continues to have an effect, the decisive urge to develop judgments, independent judgments, begins. If we rely too much on independent judgment before the age of 12, we actually ruin the child's mental and physical powers; above all, we kill the whole human experience of sharing in a judgment.
Yes, a person who is not completely dried up is not indifferent to saying yes or no to anything in judgment. Depending on whether we have to say yes or no to this or that, we feel pleasure and pain, joy and sorrow. But however much people in the field of egoism feel what they have to judge as pleasurable and painful, people today are not educated to feel the whole of life and the world as pleasurable and painful. But as a human being, one loses a lot as a result. And besides, this inability to experience the world also influences the whole of social will. Therefore, it is really not only the development of correct concepts in the teaching material that is of particular importance, but also the development of a correct perception of the world, a correct attunement to the world.
Today, humanity is dominated almost solely by one judgment in social relations. They say to themselves: The world must be arranged in such a way that it represents a kind of earthly paradise for all people. After all, what do the extreme, radical socialists of Eastern Europe want other than to use some theories to shape social life in such a way that a kind of earthly paradise is created—even if in reality paradise then turns into hell, which is of course something else entirely. Where does this come from? One need only substitute another judgment for this judgment, and one will see what is wrong with this particular judgment, namely, to turn all earthly life into a kind of paradise through some kind of social coercive measures. I am not saying the following in order to promote Nietzscheanism here, but rather to explain something. Nietzsche wrote his first work under the title: “The Birth of Tragedy from the Spirit of Music.” Among the manifold, very stimulating ideas in this work—against which one can argue a great deal—is also this one: that the Greek people were not that eternally cheerful, smiling people as they are portrayed by some, but that the Greek people had tragedy at the core of their lives, a sadness about life, and that it was precisely the Greeks who felt that our life between birth and death, the life we live here on earth, cannot be completely happy, that man's task lies beyond this earthly life. Nietzsche believed that the Greeks felt this particularly strongly and also needed powerful consolation for the disharmonies of earthly life, which they found in art. Nietzsche sees the emergence of art in such a way that he says to himself: Art was a consolation, especially for the Greek people, for the earthly disharmonies, and in music in particular, Nietzsche sees something that is supposed to lead beyond earthly disharmony. There is, in a sense, a contrast between our dry, sober, calculating thinking and what people experience when they experience music. The opposites touch each other in a very peculiar way. Consider that we can calculate tones and tonal relationships in numbers; then we have the physics of sound, acoustics! But for those who surrender themselves to the musical world of tones, what can be calculated is completely hidden. The intellectual is completely covered up in music. The intellectual sleeps in music. This is something that Nietzsche felt very strongly. He called it the tragic element in music, through which human beings feel devoted to what they would otherwise have to feel in the world. Well, Nietzsche was a person who, due to his particular constitution, felt very strongly what 19th-century materialism had brought into humanity. Truly, this educator, who dreamed of educational institutions that could arise from an idea such as the one I have just characterized as his, which could be the sources of real comfort in life, truly this Nietzsche, he revealed through his own life much of what the 19th century needed. He simply collapsed under the experience of the disharmonies of the 19th century. And if one reads between the lines of this man, who was, so to speak, destined to experience deeply within himself what others in the 19th century more or less passed by in a state of spiritual slumber, then one sees how he always points to what was lacking in his own education, and in particular in the education he should have received through teaching. With Nietzsche in particular, one has the feeling that the powers that were within him remained buried deep down. They were never brought out. Naturally, such a brilliant person felt this even more tragically than others. It is easy to say that attention was drawn here and there to the three stages in a child's life, especially between the ages of 6, 7, and 14, 15. But these stages of life have never really been put to use in education, and that needs to happen.
At the age of 9, the child experiences a complete transformation of its being, which points to a significant transformation of its soul life, to a significant transformation of its physical experience. From this point on, the human being begins to feel separated from their surroundings. They learn to distinguish between the world and the self. If we observe correctly, we must say that the world and the self more or less merge in human consciousness until this turning point in life. From the age of 9 onwards — of course, this is all approximate — the human being distinguishes between themselves and the world. This must be taken into account in what we teach children and how we educate them from the age of nine onwards. Until then, we would do well not to confuse children too much with descriptions and characteristics of things that are separate from human beings or are viewed as separate from human beings. When we tell children fables or fairy tales, we talk about animals and perhaps plants in the same way that we might talk about human beings; animals and plants are personified, we might say. They are rightly personified because children do not yet distinguish between themselves and the world; for this reason, children should see the world in a similar way to how they experience themselves. We must be clear that what I am describing here is not an impoverishment of the child's life at the age of 9, but an enrichment.
It will seem quite paradoxical to you that I am saying this last sentence. This last sentence alone, as I have just said it, seems paradoxical. But what is often said about childhood is expressed in the sense that childhood does not actually become richer, but rather poorer. Consider what is often said today when a child hurts itself on the corner of a table and, in anger, hits the table. People say that the child has something in its soul that is called animism. The child animates the table, pushing its soul into the table, so to speak. However, this is an impossible theory. Why? Because the child does not see itself as an immediately living being that puts itself into the table, personifying the table of its own accord, but because the child does not think of itself as more alive than the table. The child looks at the table and has not yet experienced more than what it experiences externally at the table. It is not that the child personifies the table, but, if I may express it this way, it tables its personality; it does not make its personality richer than the table is. Therefore, when you tell children fairy tales and fables, you are telling them as much as they can comprehend about the outside world. This must be done until the age of 9. From then on, you can begin to expect the child to learn to distinguish between the self and the world. This means that from then on, we can talk to the child about plants and animals in terms of natural history.
I have really made a great effort to study the effect of premature natural history observations on children. Premature natural history observations do indeed make the child dry later on, dry to the point that a good observer can, I would say, notice a tendency toward yellowing of the skin in humans if natural history concepts are introduced to the child too early.
The age of 9 is the time when we can begin to introduce natural history concepts to the child, but only living concepts; if possible, we should avoid introducing minerals and dead things to the child at this time. Living things, non-human living things, are present in two areas, two spheres: the animal kingdom and the plant kingdom. But if we now take what humans have achieved in the description of animals, in the scientific characterization of animals, in the scientific description and characterization of plants, and if we process this in popular short books for children, trying to discuss it in an outwardly popular way, we will still not reach the child. It can be seen in almost all of our natural history textbooks that they are actually nothing more than filtered scientific scholarship, and that is terrible. Of course, on the other hand, attempts have been made to build on scientific visual teaching. But there are methodological books for that, too. However, they suffer from the opposite mistake. There is a lot of triviality in them. They seek to discuss nothing with the child that the child does not already know, and seek, as they say, to draw only from the nature of the child in a very vivid way. This leads to triviality. And some of the methodological manuals that exist, the methodological instructions, are actually exasperating because they are so terribly trivial. One feels that if something like this were to take effect in school, all the harmful aspects of triviality would be implanted in people. And the triviality with which one deals with childhood is later expressed, like many other things I have already mentioned, in a desolation of human life; at least in a form of life that makes it impossible for people to look back on their childhood with complete joy. But that is actually something that people need. It is necessary that throughout our lives we are able to look back on our childhood school days as something paradisiacal. Not because we only experienced joy there. It does not even matter so much that we only experienced joy there. Some may have gone hungry in childhood, some may have been beaten by their teachers in ignorance, treated unkindly — of course, nothing else should ever become a pedagogical principle than the intention to combat all these things in the best possible way — but such things may have happened, and yet memories of childhood can be a source of inspiration if, at least from one side or the other, we were given the opportunity in childhood to develop a relationship with the world. We must develop a relationship with the world precisely by teaching children natural history in the right way. It does not help at all if we describe the successive classes of animals or the successive classes and species of plants, etc., to the child and then, in order not to become too dry, take the children for a walk to show them the plants outdoors; that is not really very useful. Certainly, depending on their instinctive disposition, some teachers will have more of an effect than others. They will be able to inspire the children to a considerable extent through their own inclination toward nature. But what can be transferred from spiritual science into the human being and into his mind is something quite different; it brings us the feeling of a living togetherness between the human being and the rest of the world.
Today we laugh at the fact that in the first third of the 19th century, many people still had a feeling that the entire animal world was an extended human being. We have different classes of animals. One class of animals is formed in one direction, another class of animals in another direction. We can get an overview of the different animal classes, animal genera, animal species, and so on. Human beings contain all the powers and inner structures that are distributed among the animals. This was the basis of the scientific view of, let's say, Oken. Oken represented something like this with fire. People looked for lower animals out in nature. Today, materialistic natural science says that these lower animals existed in primeval times, that they gradually perfected themselves, and that this gave rise to modern humans, a perfected physical being. We do not need to go into the details here, as we are not dealing with ordinary science, but with pedagogy. But can't we see how the human head, with its bony shell on the outside and soft parts on the inside, resembles certain lower animals? Take snails, take shellfish, they are similar to the human head. And if you take our more or less developed birds, you will have to say to yourself: In adaptation to the air, in adaptation to the whole remaining way of life, that which recedes in humans as internal lung formation and the like is particularly well developed. If you imagine away what flows into the limbs in humans, if you imagine the whole organization held more internally and adapted to the living conditions in the air, then you get the organization of the bird. Compare the organization of the lion or the cat with the organization of the cow, and you will see everywhere: in one species, one part of the organization is more developed, in the other species, another part of the organization is more developed. Each animal species is specially organized for one thing. We can say of the snail: it is almost entirely head, it has nothing but a head. Only it is a simple, primitive head. The human head is more complicated. We can say of the bird: it is, in a sense, entirely lung, correspondingly transformed, because everything else is atrophied. We can say of the lion that it is, in a sense, entirely blood circulation and heart. We can say of the cow that it is entirely stomach. And so we can characterize the different species and types in nature by looking at the individual organs. What I am saying now can also be said in a very simple, primitive way. And then, when we survey the world of the animal kingdom and everything that is spread out there like a great fan of beings, when we compare that with the human organization, how everything is rounded off in humans, how no organizational system pushes itself forward, how one is adapted to the other, we find: Yes, in animals, the organ systems are always adapted to the outside world; in humans, the organ systems are not adapted to the outside world, but to each other. The human being is a closed totality, a closed whole, which I can only sketch out here.
Just imagine, we use everything we can use, the school's natural history cabinet, every walk we take with the children, everything the child has experienced, we use everything to describe in a lively presentation how the whole human being is, in a sense, a compendium of the animal world, how everything in him is harmoniously designed, rounded off, how animals represent one-sided formations and therefore none of them can have a full soul, and how the human being represents the adaptation of one organ system to another and precisely through this gains the possibility of being a fully animated being. If we ourselves are completely convinced and inspired by this relationship between humans and the animal world, we can then rise to the challenge of describing this relationship in a lively way, so that the description is completely objective, but at the same time humans feel their relationship to the world. Just think what value it has today, in this materialistic age, to tell humans that they are the crown of earthly creation. They do not understand it in detail. They look at themselves. They look at individual animals. They do not look at each individual animal in such a way that they try to recognize how this organ system is developed in this animal and how another is developed in another class of animals. Nor do they look at the sum total of what makes up human beings. When we do this, our recognition immediately becomes a feeling, a sense of our position in the world; we cease to feel only within ourselves in an egoistic way, and our feeling goes out into the world.
Just try teaching in this way, and you will see what value such teaching has for the child's mind. Such recognition is transformed into feeling. Under the influence of such knowledge, the human being gradually becomes modest. The teaching material is really used as an educational tool. What good is it if we keep saying that we should not just teach dryly, not just impart knowledge to the child, if we have no way of transforming the knowledge in such a way that it immediately becomes an educational tool? Sometimes, when it is repeatedly emphasized that too much knowledge that we teach children prevents their proper development, one would like to say: Yes, but if teaching is useless, why don't you throw all the teaching material out of school? Of course, that cannot be done. The teaching material must be turned into an educational tool. Natural history lessons will do this with regard to animal life by treating it in the manner suggested and by not allowing children to approach it before they are over the age of 9.
With the plant world, we cannot simply present individual plant species or genera in a one-sided manner and then see everything that is summarized there reflected in humans. The approach that is so fruitful for animals, which gives us such a good basis for an artistically lively representation of zoological beings, fails in the plant kingdom. We cannot look at it that way; it doesn't work: we have to use something completely different. We must regard the whole plant world as belonging to the earth, to the whole earth.
Our materialism has led us to view the earth as a sphere consisting of stones and minerals, with plants stuck inside it, as it were. We must not apply the same principle to, say, the human head and its hair. We will regard hair growth as something that belongs to the human head. In the same way, we must regard the earth with its plant growth as something that belongs to the earth organism. We create an abstraction when we regard the earth as merely stone, which at most can claim gravity as its own. We are talking about the real earth when we regard the earth organism in such a way that plants belong to it, just as the hair on our head belongs to us. But then, when you look at it this way, the plants grow together with the earth as you look at it, and you get the right instinct to really see the earth in connection with its plant world. We do this when we look at the earth in the course of time, in the cycle of the year. If we really want to teach children the natural history of plants, we must not place class next to class, species next to species. Rather, we must make use of everything we have, the natural history cabinet, the walks, everything the child remembers, everything we can bring into the classroom in the form of fresh plants, and then describe to the child: Spring conjures this or that plant out of the earth, conjures this or that out of the plants, and this is what it looks like — then we move further into May, and the earth becomes like this; then we move further into summer, and the earth becomes like this.
We try to view the blossoms of plants in the same way as a child views the development of the earth in the cycle of the seasons. We talk to the child about how in autumn the plant seeds return to the earth, how the cycle begins anew. We view the earth as an organism and follow this lively sprouting and returning of the plants. We only give the child the name — which is, of course, something conventional — once we have guided them to it: "Look, there you have this little plant: it is such and such — under trees or away from trees. This little plant is there because in May these little plants thrive in such and such a way; it has five leaves. Remember... there it is: the one with five yellowish leaves is connected with the whole life of the earth in May; that is the buttercup!" and so on, so that the whole natural history of the plant world appears as the annual life of the earth. And then one moves on to those somewhat more hidden things, such as how certain plants bloom at Christmas time, how other plants survive, how some survive for a long time. One moves on from the life of the one herb that adorns the earth in the course of the year and then disappears again, one moves on from there to the growth of the tree, and so on. One never looks at plants merely side by side, but at the earth with its plant growth, and the plant growth emerging from the living earth.
You have placed two wonderful poles in natural history. With the animal kingdom, something that points everywhere to the human being. The human being feels himself to be synthesized out of the one-sidedness of the animal kingdom. We do not look at any animal species without pointing to that in the human being which this animal species has developed in a particularly one-sided way. The animal kingdom becomes for us a completely separated human kingdom, a fan-shaped human kingdom. As I said, people today laugh at such things. However, the first third of the 19th century sometimes took this to grotesque extremes. People like Oken uttered such grotesque words, which I do not want to defend: the tongue is a squid. Of course, Oken had the right principle in mind. He took the human tongue and looked for something in each individual species of animal class. He then compared this with the human organ, and found that the octopus had the greatest similarity to the tongue: the tongue is an octopus. The stomach is a ruminant, and so on. As I said, this was again a degeneration, a radical extreme. There is no need to go that far. Even in those days, it was not possible to find things correctly; but today, we can describe the entire animal world as spread out like a fan in humans, presenting humans as the synthesis of the entire animal world. We bring everything that is observed in the animal series with the children to the human being. We have the opportunity to show the child, by directing its eyes outward, the elements of its humanity, so to speak.
In the plant kingdom, we have just the opposite. There we forget the human being completely and regard the plant kingdom as growing entirely out of the earth itself, out of the planet on which we walk. In one case we bring the animal kingdom into the closest relationship with the human being, in the other we bring the plant kingdom into the closest relationship with what is non-human, objective. In other words, on the one hand, we evoke a sensitive understanding of the animal kingdom and of human beings themselves by observing the animal kingdom; on the other hand, we educate humans to view the earth in its objectivity, as an organism on which they walk and from which they live, and on which what they see in the growth of plants, in the annual life of plants, in the particular survival of plants this year, and so on, is separate from them. Through this twofold approach, we bring an enormous amount of what can be called balance between the intellectual and the emotional into the human soul. This leads to the retreat of the purely intellectual, which has such a pedantic and drying effect. When one understands the annual plant, the herbaceous plant growing out of the earth, the root in the earth, the leaves and stems, the green leaves up to the blossom and seed formation, when one feels this vividly in connection with the earth and one is made even more vividly aware of it by experiencing it in the annual cycle; that one experiences how the flower is brought forth when the sunlight, I would say, connects in love with what springs forth from the earth, when this is felt through and through as sentient knowledge, as knowing feeling, when one feels in this way from spring to autumn the becoming from the root through the leaf to the blossom and the seed, when one feels all this, then something else comes to one. You see, there is the earth, there is the plant, the annual plant. The annual plant takes root in the earth. Now let us consider the tree; here it is lignified, there are the branches. What appears there in a year is felt in a similar way to the annual plant; it sits on the tree in much the same way as the annual plant sits in the earth. In a sense, the earth and the wood of the tree become one, and we get the incredibly powerful impression that as the tree grows with its wood, the earth itself and what is beneath the earth pile up; where there are no trees, but annual plants grow, the power that otherwise wells up into the tree trunk is inside the earth itself. One gets a vivid sensation of seeking the sap flow of the tree trunk beneath the surface of the earth. And just as the sap flow of the tree trunk now drives forth the blossom of the year, so the sap flow below, which we know to be identical with the sap flow of the tree trunk, drives forth the annual plant. I would like to say: the view of the tree trunk merges with the view of the earth. One enters into the living.
Can one, with a living characterization of the earth, the plant kingdom, animality, and humanity, simply and elementarily enliven in the child what is otherwise only perceived as dead — namely, in the period from the age of 9 to about 12 , when the child is particularly predisposed to gradually distinguish itself from the world and yet is eager to absorb unconsciously, on the one hand, the connection between humans and the animal kingdom and, on the other hand, that which is separate from humans, that which is the earth and earthly life — then something grows within the human being that also brings them into the right relationship with the historical life of humanity on earth. Only then do the feelings develop that will then absorb history in the right way. Before the age of 10 or 11, history will of course only have been taught in the form of stories and biographies. In the 10th and 11th years, history will be incorporated into natural history lessons in such a way that the feelings that are cultivated in the human being through natural history lessons are, in a sense, intensively linked with what can now also enliven the concepts, ideas, and feelings of history lessons. It is only in the 12th year that it is actually possible to move on to what is the real judgment. We will talk about that tomorrow.
You see, it is strange that the impossibility of seeing human life correctly and comparing it correctly with life on earth stems from the fact that, for centuries, people have not actually enjoyed such a natural education. People externalize themselves greatly in their view of the world. For example, people quite understandably say: Spring is the morning of the year; summer is the day of the year; autumn is the evening of the year; winter is the night of the year. But is that really the case? In reality, it is quite different. When we sleep, everything that distinguishes us from plants has left our human organization. When we are asleep, we are not actually entitled to look the way we do. In fact, we only look the way we do because we are organized to be animated and spiritualized. When we are asleep, we are actually plant beings, we are on the level of plant beings. As individual human beings, we are nothing more than the earth with its plant growth. But which season does it correspond to when we sleep? When we sleep, it corresponds to summer, that is, the season in which plants are present. And what season does it correspond to when we are awake? Just as plant life ceases in winter and, in a sense, retreats into the earth, so too does plant life in humans retreat during the time between waking and falling asleep and is replaced by something else. If we do not follow a vague analogy but reality, we must say: human sleep can be compared to summertime, human wakefulness to wintertime on earth. Reality is thus the very opposite of what we assume to be a vague analogy.
What I have just told you is something that spiritual science must always deal with, and I never want to proceed in a dilettantish manner, but always in a very objective way. At this point, I must say something very peculiar. I have now investigated whether anyone working in the external sciences has grasped at least a trace of what I have expressed here as a spiritual scientific result, namely that the earth actually wakes in winter and sleeps in summer. Well, the only small reference that, if properly pursued, would lead to what I have just said, I actually found in a Basel school program dating from the 1950s or 1940s. In a Basel school program there is a treatise on human sleep, and human sleep is treated there in a way that is contrary to the usual view. In the interests of fairness, I would like to refer to this Basel school program. I cannot remember the name of the author at the moment, but I hope it will come to me so that I can add it by tomorrow.