fourth esoteric lesson
It’s a bit late, but I’ve finally read the english translation of the fourth first class esoteric lesson. (I say sorry, before I even begin, to my reader in Minnesota! I’m throwing pearls for swine again, or perhaps roses for donkeys, which is another expression I recently came across in a similar context — that of esoteric wisdom being wasted on those who do not take it seriously… and reverentially…!) Here are a couple of quotes, to tempt and seduce you all:
‘A relationship with the spiritual world cannot take place without this understanding of the meeting with the Guardian of the Threshold, because the spiritual world is on the other side of this threshold.’
‘It is in fact true that whenever we are dealing with esoteric truths we should not think: Oh, I know that already. For the essence of the esoteric does not lie in knowledge, but in direct experience. And inwardly, in deeper levels of our souls than where memory has its roots, is where we should grasp and retain the esoteric.’
It is also about animosity in ordinary life (and thinking and feeling and such things in esoteric life), Skakesperean villains, esoteric couch-potatoes, the contemplation of trees, and more.
‘The esotericist must also use words, for he must speak.’
Well, yes, he must. And some of them certainly speak a lot!
It’s quite a nice lecture but I instinctly oppose, I think (with my earthly, materialistic brain), what he says about earthly, ‘sub-humanizing’ forces and the ‘true’ human being. Perhaps someone can explain why I should not feel alarmed by the thought of the ‘true’ human being rejecting the earthly in favour of the supposedly higher and perfect, an elusive utopia — denying, in effect, much of what (it seems to me) makes us human. Yes, ‘godly forces’ vs evil and all that — but I still can’t… fathom. And I can’t grasp how this idea makes it any more likely that you experience yourself as ‘one with the world’, which he talks about. But then…:
‘Think, my dear friends, about standing outside in a field looking up at a star-bedecked sky. It becomes clearer when we have the opportunity to choose; it can also happen in daylight, but it is clearer at night. We feel at one with the world; we feel: that is you. But the point on earth we stand on, which we consider to be so important that it only encompasses our individual self, dissolves when we gaze up into space. It expands to the hemisphere.’
biodynamic wines (welt article)
There’s an interesting article about organic and biodynamic wines in german Welt Online:
‘Nicolas Joly von der Loire, der Prototyp der biodynamischen Winzer, spricht daher gerne über planetarische Konstellationen und kosmische Strahlungen. Dabei wirkt er wie ein Metaphysiker, der bodenlos mit Begrifflichkeiten aus einem Physikseminar des vorletzten Jahrhunderts jongliert. Da Alkohol nicht gerade gesundheitsförderlich wirkt, führte das schon bei manchem Biodynamiker zu etwas widersprüchlichen Lehrsätzen. Steiner beispielsweise trank selbst gerne Cognac, verordnete aber seinen Anhängern eine strenge Diät aus Wasser und Kaffee. Französische Winzer tun sich da naturellement weniger schwer, deutsche Anthroposophen aber hadern auch heute noch. Von daher gibt es konsequenterweise auch keinen Demeter-Wein. Wie bitte, keinen Demeter-Wein? Nein, offiziell akzeptieren Anthroposophen keine alkoholischen Getränke als Nahrungsmittel, und so verkündet das Neusprech der Steiner-Jünger einen “Wein aus Demeter-Trauben” auf den Etiketten.’
It was surprising to learn there are no german Demeter wines; in other parts of the world, wine certification seems to be one of the organisation’s major tasks…
Anybody who knows what Steiner said about coffee, by the way?
There’s a new article about Steiner education in The Guardian and I’m sure everybody has read it and is talking about it already. On the upside, some negative sides of waldorf schools are mentioned. On the downside, the article is pretty lame, as though the guardian of the newspaper threshold had been preventing a decent job on this topic. The comment section is only for the brave, those of you who can stand a certain amount of stupidity. Apparently, the waldorf drones have been brought out in daylight, to submit positive comments that reek of advertisement brochures. (Tell me, how can a parent who investigated Steiner education 20 years ago, and then decided not to go there, still regurgitate all the right buzzwords?)
Jeevan Vasagar starts out the article by presenting to the readers a picturesque portrait of the Hereford Steiner academy. Trevor Mepham, the academy’s principal, talks about common sense, curiously enough, and about vitality and twinkling eyes. As for mind-blowing wisdom, he proposes that the human being needs a ‘relationship with the natural world’. It’s difficult to understand why this would have to be obtained within the framework of Steiner education though. Or why people would be willing to compromise a good education to obtain, for their children, a relationship with the natural world — as if you couldn’t have both. Of course, Trevor Mepham thinks waldorf education offers both. Critics would say he’s wrong — perhaps even that it offers neither a meaningful contact with the natural world nor a good education.
Among the good things about the article is the space given to waldorf school science teaching and the findings of Mark Hayes, who has read a book on the Steiner science curriculum. One that, moreover, was recommended to him by the movement itself.
Darwinism, the book notes, is “rooted in reductionist thinking and Victorian ethics”, while homeopathy is given as an example of “an effect that cannot be explained”. A typical passage on biology reads: “A reductionist biology which states or implies that the human body is a machine … is not one which nourishes the adolescent’s deepest concerns. The current theories are just that – theories. They have not been in existence long and though presented as ‘truth’ they will inevitably change.”
Mark is right to point out that anthroposophy is the basis of the education. This, of course, should have been the focus of Trevor Mepham’s lyrical exposition, but waldorf proponents frequently leave that side of it out. Better, they think, to talk generally about sufficiently nice but rather unspecified things, and let the parents make their own interpretations to suit their own minds, than to spell it out: anthroposophy. Jeevan Vasagar also makes his own interpretation, one which suggests that maybe he’s not too familiar with how, when and why anthroposophy influences Steiner education:
There’s little evidence of this philosophical backdrop [ie, anthroposophy /a] in the Herefordshire school’s everyday life, however.
Perhaps, I conclude, he just doesn’t know what to look for. (Perhaps he didn’t really get access to all aspects of the school’s everyday life, either.) He continues:
It’s clear from talking to the pupils that they don’t regard Steiner as a religious movement.
This, of course, comes as no surprise whatsoever. Their parents and teachers don’t regard the school as a religious/spiritual movement — at least not in public, even if they are anthroposophists. So why would the children do that, and especially children who may not even have heard much about anthroposophy? You see, that’s just not how it works. Steiner schools don’t ‘preach’ anthroposophy (if they did, I’m sure people would be less deluded and more capable of making decisions not regretted later). They work with anthroposophy as their foundation and immerse children in an anthroposophically ‘appropriate’ environment. That’s the point of it. What you get from talking to the children is a consequence of this approach. That they don’t recognize Steiner education, or even anthroposophy, as a religious/spiritual movement is all par for the course — it’s supposed to be that way.
Another highlight is, of course, the presence of Melanie Byng (woof!).
She feels embarrassed to admit that the aesthetic was part of the appeal. “An ordinary nursery seems messy, crowded, full of plastic. In a Steiner kindergarten, they use natural materials – wood, wool, everything very neatly and pleasingly arranged.”
But the academic part of the experience showed itself to be quite a disappointment, she says. I think not a few parents have discovered the same. And it isn’t embarrassing to fall for the aesthetic part. Even I could do that, and I should know better. Ironically, going back to the beginning of the article and looking at what Vasagar writes, one gets the impression he’s falling, at least a little, for the same things.
Vasagar’s lack of real insight shows most spectacularly, however, when he writes that ‘eurhythmy‘ is ‘a Steiner exercise involving stretching and hopping to music.’ Stretching and hopping to music, well, that’s a description that could work for comical purposes (perhaps), but as information it’s simply pathetic and entirely inadequate. He ends the article by saying:
But it’s not just a matter of attractive wooden furnishings and organic food – Steiner schools offer a radically different take on the world.
They do indeed ‘offer a radically different take on the world.’ What a pity that The Guardian fails to tell us much at all about that take on the world. Because an account of what that ‘take on the world’ entails would have been truly interesting and informative.
________________
Read also the BHA’s comment on the article.
‘sol, jord og regn’
Till den tidigare texten ville jag också, av någon anledning, citera den underbare Bjørneboe — min favoritantroposof! –, men så kom jag förstås på att han är på norska, och inte på engelska. Han får därför sin egen plats.
‘… Hele haven var fylt av den røde farven fra soloppgangen, men den glitret også i orange og violett. Himmelen var av gull, av et slags sydende, kokende gull hvor det blå beveget seg i striper og linjer, linjer som var myke og slangeaktige og fulle av liv.
‘”Solen,” gjentok Lefévre; “den er det eneste som er sant.”
‘Jeg forsto med en gang hva han mente, og merkte at over meg hadde nu solen bredt seg over hele himmelen, — alt var gull og solskinn, gull og solskinn. Alt var seg selv og var sin egen forklaring, farvekaskaderna i løvverket, den sprutende ilden i bekken, alt fløt over i en foss av farver.
‘Så kom havet, det uendlige, mørkeblå, gylne hav, skummet og lyset, og alt var omfavnet av solen, jorden ble båret av de uendlige flammearmerne som omslynget den og holdt den oppe.’
[...]
‘Vi spiste som vi aldri hadde spist før. Den samme økningen av sanseevnen som gjorde farvene omkring oss synlige slik som de virkelig er, gjaldt også smaksnerverne. Bare brødet og smøret, med en munnfull vin til, inneholdt allverdens rikdom av smak, av sol, jord og regn, av kornet og av melken som smøret var blitt til av. Det var eftermiddag.’
[Jens Bjørneboe: Kruttårnet. Eventuella skrivfel mina, så klart. Det är inte lätt att skriva av norska.]
spirituality of imperfection
I really should have included this in my previous post, but I couldn’t quite fit it in. It’s an article I read a couple of days ago and it’s about a book, from which this quote comes:
‘The problem with organized religions, Bill Wilson once complained, ‘is their claim how confoundedly right all of them are.’ The spirituality of imperfection … makes no claim to be ‘right.’ It is a spirituality more interested in questions than in answers, more a journey toward humility than a struggle for perfection.
‘The spirituality of imperfection begins with the recognition that trying to be perfect is the most tragic human mistake.’
Read more on the excellent Brain Pickings blog.
nightswimming
Only the fool would do such a thing, and I know for a fact that none of you are fools. The Baltic sea is not even 10° C, so of course you wouldn’t; you’re all eminently sane people, after all, and as anybody sane knows, there’s no such thing as swimming, in the Baltic, at this time of the year. And the air, by midnight, is not much warmer than the sea. So I know you wouldn’t. Nobody would. Unless. Unless, of course, they were utterly raving mad. Then maybe, only maybe. You’d have to be a death-defying lunatic (or a polar bear) for attempting it, and mad like that you shouldn’t be. You should be rational. Seeing things sanely. Keeping yourself safe and warm. I, of course, would never recommend anything else. Like any sane person, I’d stay away from the sea. I’d say, don’t be tempted by it, not by its salty attraction or its alluring perfume of sea-weed. Don’t be crazy.*
As you might have guessed by now, mr Dog and I have spent some days on the island, amongst sun-burnt cliffs and the lush and exuberant greenness of late spring, and returned to the city on thursday evening. We’ve had time to think all kinds of thoughts, not all of them entirely productive. Never underestimate nature, is one of those, and it is, indeed, a multi-layered one. (No, mr Dog did not kill a real bunny, only a supersensible one and a plush rat.) Never underestimate the power of the busy sea turning, after sunset, into dark-grey stillness and silence. Never think tranquillity won’t do anything to you; it will. As will the sky, with its few pale stars that are visible on a light summer sky. In fact, these particular burning objects of the cosmos must be the largest and closest to our earth, not the palest. Some of the brightest are probably planets, not stars. Things aren’t what they seem. There’s a sky full of stars rendered invisible by the summer night. I know, if only because they were there last autumn. I have no use for my star map now, or for the smartphone’s Google sky map. It will be a couple of months. Let’s not think about that. I don’t want to go to sleep, when I’ve just woken up.
Because the spring is almost over, the nights are light and the scents of early summer rise from the soil and the vegetation at dusk and at dawn, and you cannot protect yourself from them. They enclose you, and make you want to bow down and inhale; they make you want… infinitely more. It’s just that the air is only saturated so much, nature wants to keep its subtlety; all you can ever have is a forceful whisper. So we walk; we take our evening walks in that cathedral of old oak trees and light green birches and archipelago pines, breathing the incense of nature itself. Then, returning home, slowly recognizing more and more of the soft, salty scents of sea. You can’t breathe water, no matter how tempting.
Sometimes spiritual people, when asked to define what spiritual is, say that it’s the experience of art, of nature, of a piece of music, or something else they happen to appreciate. I use the word experience, because I can’t find any word more appropriate and broad enough to describe this. But, to me, this description seems slightly nonsensical. Then you have to ask — are their experiences, really and truly, any different? Are they somehow deeper? Somehow more meaningful? How, then? Or are they simply elevating themselves, feeding a superiority complex? And, by the way, where do awe and reverence ever get us — apart from away from the moment, from experience to duties? What I feel most suspicious of — possibly more suspicious of than of the supposedly fuller ‘experiences’ of spiritual people — is spiritual utopia. Of placing the state of human spiritual perfection at some point in the elusive future — in that epoch or state of mind we’re not yet capable of attaining. It’s always elsewhere, and never where we are. Always in another place, another time, in other circumstances. And, strangely, it’s always about getting there, about the arduous work of humanity on the path towards a goal, whose properties are almost (if not actually) intangible. It’s not about the fullness of the experience of the moment. Strangely, because it’s somehow paradoxical — isn’t it?
Why is it that those who claim that science can’t have all the answers also seem to be those who are most inept at accepting that our human knowledge is imperfect and start inventing intricate systems of explanations? Who is it that can’t bear to live with the unknown? Is the unknown so difficult a burden that an irrational explanation — encapsulated, funnily, in a seemingly rational, logical system of irrational beliefs — is better than none at all? But this seems to go against the popular spiritual idea that ‘everything’ can’t be explained. And yet… if you ‘buy’ anthroposophy, you have an explanation for virtually everything (for being, supposedly, a ‘method’ not a teaching, it certainly presents a wide range of doctrines). Who is it that needs the comfort of an all-encompassing explanation of life, the earth, cosmos and everything and who needs the promise of a future spiritual utopia? Anyway, to me the rationality of the system of irrational ideas and the quest for an ever more perfect future, seem quite bereft of something essential.
It’s lacking in the opportunity for elation — of the moment of elation amidst all the imperfections of life. It focuses more on a duty towards what can be and what can become, not on what is here and now. I guess, then, you really need reincarnation, because you have to postpone enjoyment — perhaps even the desire for it — to your next time around or even to a future state of consciousness… and, for some reason, the descriptions of these future states never portray them as very enjoyable either, except, I guess, at that point in time you’d see it all with other eyes, the new, spiritual eyes of the future, not yet even imaginable. I suppose I’m asking of spiritual enlightenment something it can’t be according to some or even most spiritualities — I’m asking that furthering humanity should not mean to remove its humanness (which seems to be one of the goals). That we should stop being what we are, to further progress — towards, well, something utopian. My question, though, is can you have the lows without the highs? The warmth without the cold? What is perfection without its contrast? And is it worth it? Why do people need to fully explain and systemize everything, even if it means they must to grasp any straw — and it appears spiritual people are no different from others, but instead arguably worse? So much for leaving the mysterious a mystery, so much for leaving things we can’t explain unexplained (for now). Instead, inventing the most intricate system of unlikely explanations that you can imagine.
You can’t do, I think, without the highs, not in this incarnation or epoch — not even with the promise of blessings in next epochs or of stages of planetary evolution when we’ve shed our physicalness and dog knows what else of that dreadfully human stuff that causes as much pain as it causes pleasure –, and why should you? Why do we need a system of explanations (that explain little) or a future of perfection (and thus of humans lacking some chief human characteristics like imperfection and limitations in knowledge)? Why do we need to get rid of the contrasts, of ahriman and lucifer and opposing forces and whatnot, for the benefit of a state of harmony and completeness, harmony without insecurity and without elements of the unknown?
I’m suspicious of any spirituality that places perfection somewhere in the future, in some seemingly distant state of things or state of mind, possibly not attainable for those who remain merely imperfect humans. I’m suspicious of anyone who doesn’t acknowledge that for brief moments, here and now, there is something resembling perfection — but for the rest of it, we must accept the imperfect, the paradoxes and the contradictions and the fact that, for all we do know, we don’t know all. My own brain is too small. I have to accept that there are both knowable and unknowable things that I will never know. That’s ok too. I don’t exactly need invented un-knowledge to fill up the space. There’s so much else to fill the space with.
So, what is there in spirituality that us non-spiritual among the human race do not possess? What have the spiritual attained that we can’t?
_________
*I always wanted a post with that title and now I have one, appropriately or not; at least, one might argue, it’s swimming, or drowning, in thoughts and in nonsense! (Hopefully charming; charm is the only thing that can rescue nonsense from well-deserved oblivion.) You can watch the utterly adorable Michael Stipe singing the song, though, while remaining as sane as you always were. Listen to this live version. At one particular moment in the song, it’s much more beautiful than the studio version.
oh really?
‘Sunfield Waldorf School teachers Helen Curry and Isolde Perry recently attended the World Waldorf Conference in Switzerland – for more than a week of 13- to 14-hour days – joining 948 teachers and presenters from 54 countries in learning about the latest scientific research and efforts to help children in the context of modern life.’
Anyone feels confident that the latest scientific research was on the agenda at the Goetheanum? Of course, it’s no secret how oriented waldorf education is towards modern life and helping kids coping with it…
pseudoscience in school (ii)
There is a good article in This is Cornwall. It’s about the letter published in The Observer a week ago — which I blogged about then. Melanie has been interviewed.
‘The letter is also signed by Dr Byng’s wife, Melanie Byng, who lives in Devon and is one of the most outspoken critics of the Steiner movement, with an active presence on Twitter under the name Thetis Mercurio.’
A spokesperson for a Steiner school then goes on to say that anthroposophy is not taught — but anthroposophy being directly taught is not the only, or should I say the main, point of concern or criticism. Talking about science, one can actually suspect (see my links in the previous post) that anthroposophy seeps in, more or less. More importantly, as Melanie points out, anthroposophy informs virtually everything that goes on in the school, from what is taught to how it’s taught and when. This can mean both teaching pseudoscientific ‘facts’ and children being left behind compared to peers in other schools. Denying it is so, is not honest, and leads parents to make uninformed decisions as they lack knowledge of what Steiner education really entails (and not).
‘Melanie Byng said: “The Steiner School fellowship needs to be honest about the fact that Anthroposophy is at the heart of informing educational policy at every Steiner School. If it’s not, then it can’t call itself a Steiner School.”‘
the beach
well, it’s not a huge beach. It’s quite adorable, even if it’s small. I don’t mind being in the city — but it doesn’t have this. (Photo from a week ago.)
fire
Last sunday night, when heavy winds made the island cottage very cold, I had to make a fire. Did you know there are elemental beings of fire? Well, of course you do. And that the element of fire itself, according to Steiner, interpenetrates all the other three elements. He speaks of it here, where he also, very poetically, describes why we have daylight — you see, we wouldn’t, unless some elementals were ‘imprisoned in night’, as this makes it possible for night to be separated from day. Being immersed in light from early morning till late at night now — the northern summer is arriving — I surmise lots of elementals must be ‘chained … to the night-time.’ According to the theory. Which I do not claim to understand. I’m not exactly sure what this has to do with the elementals of fire. But look at the photo, and see if you can spot any! Treat it as a Rorschach test of spiritual perception! Or… something. Well, even if you don’t see any elementals… If you see bunnies, door-handles or pretty ladies — anything, really, anything! –, please report your observations of those phenomena! They would provide such fascinating clues about your spiritual biography, I’m sure. I’ll ask my guru to interpret them. Of course, in his eyes, not seeing bunnies counts as a serious spiritual deficiency. Actually, I just thought I saw a burning frog sitting on one of the logs.
Bo Dahlin, professor i utbildningsvetenskap vid Karlstads universitet, skrev härom dagen en bloggkommentar där han hävdade att Ulf Ärnström och jag ljuger. Först trodde han förvisso att det var jag som ljög, men såg därefter han att han adresserade något som Ulf hade skrivit och ändrade sig sålunda. Eftersom jag är enig med Ulf i hans tolkning av den här delen av Dahlins forskning, får Dahlins ord anses träffa mig i lika hög utsträckning.
I en undersökning som antroposofer själva finansierade (Dahlin 2003-2007) visar det sig att minst 15% färre waldorfelever går vidare till högre studier jämfört med motsvarande vanliga gymnasieprogram (Dahlin själv jämför med alla program, inklusive de yrkesförberedande, och då ser naturligtvis siffrorna snyggare ut).
Alicia fortsätter att fara med halvsanningar och lögner – ingenting i vår rapport (Dahlin, Nobel, och Liljeroth var författarna, inte bara undertecknad) säger att 15% mindre av waldorfeleverna går vidare till högre utbildningar.
Sorry, min websida krånglade och jag såg inte att det var Ulf Ärnström som påstod att 15% färre waldorfelever gick vidare till högre studier, inte Alicia.
Låt oss inte stanna för länge vid att Bo Dahlin menar att jag ‘fortsätter’ att ljuga, vilket ger en antydan om en historia av något slag. Bo Dahlin är mycket välkommen att förklara vad han menar också med detta, men jag tycker att vi i första hand ska fokusera på att reda ut om Ulf och jag faktiskt far med halvsanningar och lögner vad gäller waldorfelevers övergångsfrekvens till högre studier.
Frågan är alltså, ljuger Ulf och jag om vi — baserat på Bo Dahlins forskningsrapporter* — fortsätter att påstå att 15% färre waldorfskoleelever, jämfört med elever i andra skolor, går vidare till högre utbildning? Eller är det kanske mer som Bo Dahlin själv uttrycker det här, nämligen att ‘resultatet av jämförelsen beror på hur man jämför’?
Öppnar waldorf dörren till högre studier?**
Detta med waldorfelevers övergång till högre studier utgör helt uppenbart en viktig fråga för waldorfrörelsen. En av Dahlins populära tolkningar av forskningsresultatet — nämligen att fler waldorfelever går vidare till högre utbildning — har okritiskt omnämnts i såväl media som av waldorfskolor och waldorfskoleföreträdare i olika sammanhang. Resultatet sprids till och med av waldorfentusiaster utomlands. Då, får man förmoda, är det också av vikt att slutsatsen som Bo Dahlin gör är sann och rimlig, och att han, när han menar att vi ljuger, faktiskt har något på fötterna.
Både Ulf Ärnström och jag tolkar nämligen Bo Dahlins resultat annorlunda än han själv nu tycks göra, och kommer således till en annan slutsats, en slutsats som vi anser att Dahlin öppnar för i sitt eget material. Jag anser inte att vi ljuger; det kunde vi bara göra om vi inte trodde att det vi säger stämmer överens med sanningen. Däremot kan vi ju ha fel, och då är detta ett ypperligt tillfälle för Bo Dahlin, eller någon annan hågad, att förklara varför. Än så länge är det omöjligt att veta vilka argument Bo Dahlin stöder sig på i sin kommentar, men det vore intressant att få ta del av dem.
Ulf Ärnström, som har läst både delrapporten och slutrapporten, kommenterar Bo Dahlins inställning så här:
[läsare som är överkänsliga även för enklare statistik varnas]
I slutrapporten Dahlin m.fl. (2006) säger man att 58% av eleverna från waldorf går vidare till högre studier inom tre år. Vad ska man då jämföra den siffran med? Rapporten nämner två alternativ, ett där 15% färre elever går vidare. Den siffran är alltså inte något lögnaktigt påhitt av mig, den står där i svart och vitt på sidan tolv. Uppenbarligen bortglömd och förnekad av dess skapare.
Som jag redovisade i min kommentar; rapporten förespråkar en annan jämförelse. Enligt den skulle 11% fler waldorfelever gå vidare till universitetsstudier. Så hur rimliga är dessa jämförelser? Det är inte särskilt svårt att avgöra detta själv.
I rapporten får man fram siffran 11% bättre övergångsfrekvens för waldorfskolorna genom att jämföra dem med samtliga gymnasielinjer, inklusive de rent yrkesförberedande. Argumentet är att waldorf skulle vara både studieförberedande och yrkesförberedande. Men vilket yrke är det waldorf förbereder eleverna för? Inget särskilt. De som slutat waldorf är precis lika väl eller illa förberedda för arbetsmarknaden som elever från rent studieförberedande kommunala gymnasier. Medan elever med avgångsbetyg från en riktig yrkesförberedande linje har större chans att gå direkt ut i arbetslivet. Och därmed har mindre behov av högskoleutbildning. Därför fortsätter också mycket färre till universitet. Det vet naturligtvis Dahlin och hans medförfattare också.
Jämför man istället med de studieförberedande linjerna hamnar man alltså på siffran 15% färre. Det är en betydligt rimligare jämförelsegrupp. Märkligt nog föreslår författarna till delrapporten från 2003 ett helt annat alternativ, nämligen 8% färre. Där är det inte tal om waldorf som yrkesförberedande. Istället jämför man med den linje som har den lägsta övergångsfrekvensen av de studieförberedande, den estetiska. Man säger också att det troligtvis rör sig om ännu färre, av ett skäl som inte nämns 2006.
Det borde ha nämnts i samband med att man hävdar att bortfallet på 32% är “lågt”. Det är det inte alls – om man har skäl att misstänka ett s.k. systematiskt bortfall. 2003 var de som skrev den rapporten högst medvetna om att rimligtvis kommer fler av de som studerat vidare att svara på enkäten. Varför nämns inte det 2006?
Det finns ytterligare ett skäl till att den reella skillnaden i övergångsfrekvens troligen ligger en bra bit över 15%, oavsett om man jämför med estetisk linje eller samtliga studieförberedande. Waldorfelevernas föräldrar hade nämligen högre utbildning, tjänade mer och hade i större utsträckning svensk eller inomeuropeisk bakgrund. De har också aktivt valt en friskola. Hade man valt att jämföra med en sådan grupp istället för med kommunala skolor hade det kunnat se betydligt värre ut. Rapporterna redovisar en hel del komplicerade statistiska analyser kring detaljer i liknande frågor. Men ingenstans försöker man besvara den grundläggande frågan om hur jämförelsen av övergångsfrekvenser hade sett ut ifall man hade tagit hänsyn till familjebakgrunden. Varför inte det?
______________________________
*Det handlar om två rapporter:
Delrapporten (delrapport 1 i Projektet Waldorfskolor i Sverige): Bo Dahlin, Cathrine Andersson, Elisabeth Langmann. Waldorfelever i högre utbildning, (Karlstads universitet, 2003).
Slutrapporten: Bo Dahlin, Ingrid Liljeroth, Agnes Nobel. Waldorfskolan — en skola för människobildning? (Karlstads universitet, 2006).
Dessutom finns ett par engelska sammanfattningar:
En engelsk sammanfattning av slutrapporten: Bo Dahlin. The Waldorf School — Cultivating Humanity? (Karlstads universitet, 2007).
En tidig engelsk sammanfattning av de första delrapporterna: Bo Dahlin. A Summary of the Swedish Waldorf School Evaluation Project. (Year unknown.)
De medförfattare till slutrapporten som Dahlin nämner i sin kommentar har inte varit ansvariga för den delrapport som utgjort underlag för slutrapporten. Dessutom bör något sägas om projektet som sådant, för den som inte redan känner till bakgrunden. Det finansierades av Kempe-Carlgrenska stiftelsen, en stiftelse med anknytning till den antroposofiska rörelsen. Stiftelsen utformade frågorna (se bilaga 1, s 42, delrapport 1). Forskarna, som skrivit rapporterna, är ‘positivt inställda’ till waldorfpedagogiken (ibid).
**Dörrhandtag, Kristofferskolan, en av de skolor som deltog i Dahlins projekt.
threshold crossings
After having briefly discussed unconscious spiritual threshold crossings in this recent thread, I came across this baffling conference description (the conference deals with Steiner’s mystery dramas):
Today, 113 years after the end of the Kali Yuga (the Dark Age), the spiritual worlds are accessible to all. Every human being today is crossing the threshold into the spiritual worlds, either consciously or unconsciously. The mystery dramas can give us an orientation into these experiences. Might the destructive forces, so prevalent in our times and at work in every sphere of human endeavor, be attributable to the crossing of this threshold of humanity, which if performed unconsciously yields “destructive urges” instead of beneficial impulses to fructify human life on earth?
oersättlig antroposofi
Ok. Detta, om möjligheterna till universitetsutbildning i waldorfpedagogik, gillar jag.
Däremot lär sådana kurser inte leda till en komplett waldorflärarutbildning så som skolorna behöver. En anledning till detta är bland annat att den antroposofiska människokunskapen är en oersättlig del av Waldorfpedagogiken, och den är knappast universitetet beredd att undervisa i.
Ja, exakt! Det alldeles förtjusande ordet ‘oersättlig’. Tänk om waldorfförespråkare kunde använda det lite oftare om antroposofin, i stället för att bluddra om mer eller mindre ovidkommande saker. Och sedan detta med att antroposofisk människokunskap faktiskt har lite svårt att passa in på universitetet, vilket är helt rätt svar på frågan (som var mer än lovligt naiv). Jag är helt enig (!). Universitetsprogram kan aldrig ge en komplett waldorflärarutbildning. Waldorflärare kan förvisso vara universitetsutbildade lärare — det är inget som hindrar, snarare tvärtom — men den antroposofiska delen måste komma någon annan stans ifrån, t ex genom kurser i privat regi.
‘den demokratiska valfriheten’
Här är ett upprop för statsfinansierad waldorflärarutbildning. (Se mitt tidigare inlägg.)
Vi uppmanar alla som vill värna waldorfpedagogiken och den pedagogiska mångfalden att skriva under detta upprop. Syftet är att visa ansvariga myndigheter hur många vi är som oroas över Waldorflärarhögskolans framtid, och att visa hur många vi är som motsätter oss inskränkningar i den demokratiska valfriheten.
Jag vill ha statsfinansierad champagne. Annars tänker jag klaga över inskränkningar i den demokratiska valfriheten. Ska jag verkligen behöva dricka… vatten? Hur odemokratiskt är inte det?
Men allvarligt talat. Det finns massor av saker staten inte finansierar. En av de sakerna är utbildning som håller för låg kvalitet, och det är förfärligt bra det (tänk vad mycket strunt som annars skulle bekostas av skattemedel! Det är illa nog som det är, kan man kanske tycka). Kanske borde dessa föräldrar i stället anordna ett upprop för att kräva av de ansvariga för waldorflärarutbildningen att de ser till att höja kvaliteten på utbildningen? En sådan åtgärd skulle ju faktiskt kunna gagna alla, inklusive de barn som går i waldorfskolor.
biodynamic wine, the hottest trend (apparently)
From an article — about ‘the new rules of wine’ — in The Telegraph:
The hottest new trend in wine is “biodynamics”, although those trumpeting it happily admit that the idea has been around for decades. It flows from a belief that mysterious energy forces, cosmic rhythms, lunar movements and natural earth patterns can make what is grown “vibrate in harmony with the universe”.
The standard theory is based on the work of the Austrian “spiritual scientist” Rudolf Steiner, who outlined his ideas to broad scepticism in the Twenties. Modern winemakers have proved more enthusiastic, though. Steiner’s foremost disciple, the famed Loire grower Nicolas Joly, is prone to baffling hard-nosed buyers’ conferences by saying things like: “For a vine, spring is the victory of sun forces over earth forces. In autumn the law of death comes into force.” It’s hard to argue with his wines, though.
