When my children first began entertaining themselves long enough for me to plot out their educational future via the Internet, I sought out alternatives to the local public school -- as I assumed good, progressive parents are expected to do. I had a hard time with the idea of compulsory schooling at all: The institutionalization of my children's education went against something deep in my gut -- some rebellious tendency, perhaps, or just the wish that I'd been allowed to do more dreaming as a young child. I wanted more for my children: more art, more imagination, more fantasy, more drama and music. I also wanted less: less rote learning, less commercialism and peer pressure, fewer worksheets, less time spent sitting listlessly at a desk watching slide shows.
The more I read online about Waldorf schooling, clicking from virtual tour to virtual tour of beautiful classrooms and beautiful toys, all surrounded by beautiful pink-cheeked children, the more enthusiastic I got. What institutional-education-fearing rebel wouldn't be attracted to a school system that incorporates reverence for nature into its curriculum and bedecks its classrooms with smooth wooden toys and brightly colored bits of wool and silk? To me, it was the perfect alternative to Coke-sponsored public schools. I imagined my children in such an environment, creating colorful works of art, singing, dancing with silk fairy wings on their backs, and stacking untreated wooden blocks while listening to a teacher read aloud from a book of classic fairy tales, bright smiles on their fresh, freckly faces. In my mind's eye, the Waldorf method transformed them somehow. They'd be imaginative, inquisitive -- not like the snarky, sophisticated sitcom kids I feared they were otherwise doomed to become. The wooden and natural-fiber toys were said to inspire creativity; the careful attention to festivals and seasons would provide the children with a sense of rhythm.
After I'd done my fill of research on Waldorf, I contemplated Sudbury schools, a program that allows children the freedom to design their own educational pursuits and that is run democratically by students, staff and parents. I considered Montessori schools, based on a philosophy that provides structure but still encourages independent thinking as well. But from the outside, Waldorf did the best job of fulfilling my educational fantasies.
Apparently, that fantasy hooks a lot of people. Judging from the accounts of the more than 20 people I spoke to about their experiences with Waldorf education and the hundreds of accounts I read online, most parents who choose Waldorf are drawn to it for the same reasons: the arts-based education, the avoidance of commercial and media influences, and the idea that the school would nurture their child's body, mind and spirit.
Waldorf education has been around for 75 years, and its popularity shows no signs of abating; there are over 800 schools in 40 countries and at least 157 Waldorf schools in North America, with a number of public schools incorporating Waldorf-inspired aspects into their curriculum. And for the most part, parents I've spoken to whose children are currently enrolled in Waldorf schools tend to be deeply satisfied with their children's education; they agree with the Waldorf philosophy and enjoy the ready-made community. "Our school is a very harmonious and peaceful place," says Stacy Aaron, whose son Nicky is a kindergartener at the Portland Waldorf School in Portland, Ore. "The curriculum and teaching style work for my kid, and he is treated with respect and kindness by his teachers and the other staff."
Waldorf is as much a lifestyle as it is an education, with the school's philosophies lapping into home life: Parents are often asked to enforce rules about television watching and to keep a "media free" environment for children in lower grades (no TV or computers, period). Parents also receive guidelines for packing school lunches (an Olympia, Wash.-area Waldorf school's handbook states that lunches must be packed in a basket, not a lunch box, with two cloth napkins and a ceramic cup). Mary Hammond*, a Santa Rosa, Calif., mother of two, says the Waldorf school application she filled out asked questions about how long she'd breastfed her children and how much television she and her husband watched. In many ways, says Hammond, who eventually decided that Waldorf's mandates were too strict for her children, "I felt like I was on trial to see if we'd 'fit in' with the community before we even started there!"
Former Waldorf parents criticize their schools for not fully explaining these practices -- or how deeply they connect to Steiner's spiritual worldview. "Anthroposophy is the foundation of everything that happens in a Waldorf school, but it's veiled," says Dan Dugan, secretary of the Waldorf watchdog group People for Legal and Nonsectarian Schools (PLANS). "It isn't taught directly to the children, but to the knowing eye it is everywhere."
Next page: "Any good school will be very upfront about the anthroposophical basis of Waldorf education"