Proceedings Colloquium on World History - Waldorf Research Institute

I’m sure that’s true, not just of the humanities, or history, but it seems especially true in that way
because the literature can be such a window. It’s interesting that you’re talking about this stained glass
window. I couldn’t help but think that every piece of literature that they’re picking up is a potential window
into their own soul. But clearly, the 11 th grade parents had a lot of first-borns in that class, so they had to
be reassured that this dark night of the soul does transform into a more expansive experience of the 12 th
grade. Humanities is both a mirror and a window into their own inner experience.
I’m just always aware working with high school students, that they leave at age 18, that they will be
experiencing something very profound after this time, but we are not able to join them on this mighty step
towards this new birth. So I was eager years ago to teach college freshmen and sophomores to see what it’s
like on the other side. I was pretty shocked. These are very smart students; they’ve done very well in school;
they’re very hard-working. I would try to find time to squeeze into the curriculum stories, paint pictures in
words, and then try to give them a moment, to just pause in that. I realized it was so nourishing for them.
When I began to ask them, virtually none of them could remember having a story told to them in the
context of history. It’s something we Waldorf teachers simply take for granted. The ability to have an image
form was powerful to them. I could see how much they had missed. So another part of the humanities
curriculum is nourishment through these very challenging times. The students then leave us and reflect on
their history courses, including imaginative/cognitive reasoning.
I’ve had students say that they have a profound experience with the historical epochs. Just the fact
that the historical epoch is in front of them, in some ways, allows something to stir in them, and they don’t
know why. At this time they are leaning towards the birth of the ego, and this reflection is helpful in that
development.
I had known a particular class since kindergarten, and I always felt this group had been together
before. I’d felt that for years in the lower school. There were two groups of boys – one group was very
literary, expressing a strong interest in poetry. When they were given choices, they almost always chose the
poets of the First World War. Another group was not literary but very will oriented, very combative. When
they were in the ninth grade, I was teaching them about the rise of Nazism. The second group of the boys
challenged me, “You are making this up. This didn’t happen.” Their response was so unexpected that I
found myself feeling very tense. I wasn’t sure what to do next. That evening help arrived from an unexpected
source. Around dinner time there was a knock at the door. In front of me stood a German Waldorf
teacher on sabbatical and his grown son. I’d never met them before, but someone had given them my
name. I invited them in for dinner, and I told them I was going to preview a film that evening about the
rise of Nazism. The father was of the age when he could have been involved in the Second World War. They
said, “Oh, we’d love to see it.” So after dinner rather self-consciously, I previewed the film. When it was
finished, I asked the father, “Well, what did you think of it?” He replied, “Well, it’s extremely accurate.”
The next morning, in class I told the students about my guests. After that the second group no
longer questioned whether I had exaggerated or whether the events described had really happened. Something
seemed put to rest. I don’t know what all that was, but I found it interesting to read in Rabbi Yonassan
Gershom’s book Beyond the Ashes, Cases of Reincarnation from the Holocaust (A.R.E.Press 1992) that he had
met a number of Americans who were suffering from unexplained events related to the Holocaust which he
attributed to past life experiences.
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