A beautiful piece of writing by a mother who abandoned the waldorf dream (if I may call it that). She writes:
One of the things that brought me to the school was searching for a place that Z felt comfortable — and the beautiful space itself — with its timber-framed buildings and its surrounding prairie gardens, its long sunlit wooden hallways lined with boots — its coatrooms and pegs for coats — its teachers engaged in singing and filling basins of water for the children to wash their dishes after snack. So beautiful. For Z, a child who never warmed to the loud, brightly-lit community rooms at local music classes — or to the public library — seemed at ease enough there… and yet. I was troubled. I would catch the teachers faces in repose – not just our teachers — but the teachers I saw on the grounds — with their hats on and the little ones following them around like ducklings — and their sternness seemed at odds with the physical surroundings in a way I couldn’t place — for a place that was created in such a joyful image — it seemed that there was something at work beneath that I wasn’t quite understanding.
I do recommend that you read the whole post. Right now!