Inspired Teaching: Short Memoirs from Otto Specht
These stories contain very true moments from Otto Specht School. Names and some details have been changed or omitted for privacy and brevity. At Otto Specht, we often bring these moments to our faculty meetings - the challenges and the insights that shifted the child into a more positive outlook or outcome. Together, we are able to build a picture of each child and what they are requiring from us. Remarkably, we recognize time and again that they are requiring us to take notice and make changes in the ways that the world at large is crying out for us to do.
A Story for the Wooden Toys
by Joen Dealande
Ronia joined in January of her first grade year. It was my first year at Otto Specht School. I was a trained Waldorf Teacher with 8 years of class teaching experience and several additional years of experience teaching other subjects such as music and drama. However, when Ronia came, I felt suddenly like a novice. Ronia is very bright and quick but academically delayed due in large part to an inability to be in a classroom for extended periods of time, to follow teacher instructions, to focus for more than a brief amount of time, or to attend to non preferred activities. In short, she lacked the general baseline criteria to be in most school environments. Ronia presents with what is termed a Pathological Demand Avoidance (PDA) profile, displaying a strong lack of recognition of adult authority and an inability to take verbal directive i.e. she cannot do anything the teacher is directly asking of her even if she wants to do it, among other behaviors.
As a Waldorf teacher my use of story is extensive in the classroom. With Ronia, however, if I tried to tell a story she would quickly become very restless and begin to engage in distracting behavior, talking over me or moving about the classroom. If I persisted she would begin to throw objects or turn over chairs and desks. We found some other ways to get work done - often outside, but I felt like I was working without my greatest asset, and what is more, that Ronia was missing out on the nourishing soul content the stories provide alongside their more “academic” lessons.
With help from my evening meditations, in Second Grade, I hit upon the idea of having a group of wooden animals lined up on a desk, and while Ronia was busy doing book work or drawing, I would tell the story to the animals. The next day I would question the animals about the story, they would give me answers silently and I would repeat the answers aloud for Ronia’s sake. At first I could only get away with about five minutes of storytelling but bit by bit I could stretch this out. The wooden animals heard a good number of stories about different saints and a couple Jataka tales, though I might take two or even three weeks to complete a story.
We always drew pictures and I would repeat that portion of the story as we drew. On Fridays, using wooden peg dolls simply dressed in paper costumes (many of which I made in the classroom on the day) I would retell the stories as a little puppet show. Ronia began to ask if she could do a puppet show herself, and in these she would weave elements of the story into her play.
Late in the year came the startling day when, as I was asking the animals about the Jataka tale of the brave little parrot, Ronia raised her hand and provided the correct answer. From that point on, though I never asked her directly, she would often give the answers, showing the surprising amount she was actually taking in.
Since working at Otto Specht School and with Ronia in particular, I have read quite a bit about special needs children and especially those with a PDA profile. I do not in any way consider myself an expert, nor do I know whether these methods would have worked with any other child. I do know that Waldorf pedagogy is not just a rich curriculum; it is meeting each child and figuring out who they are and what they are asking of us. And I do feel strongly that the real work comes in our meditative life, and that inspiration is there for the asking from the spiritual world. Sometimes, with these children whose needs are so particular to themselves, I think it’s the best place to find what we need.
Hurricane Charlie and some Advice from Mother (Nature)
by Mihail Etropolski
Tall for his age but with the somewhat undefined limbs of a younger child; legs that somehow mostly keep from falling as they bang their way through the rocks and brush of campus, seemingly a step behind - or maybe at times ahead, of the rest of him. Charlie has what can be described as violent outbursts. On his third day of second grade at our school, he knocked over several chairs and two tables, emptied the bookshelves of all their contents, and threw almost all our classroom items all over the floor. The few times I reminded Charlie we’d have to clean everything up before putting our shoes on for recess, a new item would find itself flying across the room. It had all begun so suddenly that a classmate and teacher were struck by flying walnuts used for math activities, before we diverted everyone else to an activity out of the classroom.
Similar episodes were why Charlie had to leave his previous school, and why he has experienced a series of shuffling venues and caretakers, and he was sure to show us what he was capable of before he got too comfortable. Charlie is bright. He has absorbed many facts about the world, memorized from conversations with and between his bright, well educated parents or overheard amongst adults, on the radio, or on the TV. When it comes to school activities, however, it can be difficult for him to follow the structure, move towards a clear goal, or even lose himself in play with peers. Very quickly into one of these activities, some realization comes into him, and he resists continuing, usually passively but sometimes with flying objects and furniture turned upside down.
At an age when one is building their earthly home – one’s body, one’s habits – how difficult it must be for him! While trying to feel the ground upon which to build, has had to navigate shifting school structures and authorities. When laying the bricks and mortar, his own being is rebelling and knocking them down.
At the Otto Specht school, our Farm and Garden program and the enlivening setting of our campus gives us access to the wisdom of nature. And boy do we need it when questions get tough. Here, Charlie’s love of animals has found an outlet. When he cares for the chickens, geese and horses, he is experiencing the love that his teachers and caregivers have for him. When he wades through the stream and builds dams, he is engaging in the balancing and movement activities that will form his body for the future. And when we teachers look to the unwavering support of Mother Nature, we can embody the loving authority that he so needs.
On the day Hurricane Charlie upended the classroom, he wanted to skip cleaning and just move on to the next part of the day. This was not allowed – we needed to make sure everything was the way we found it first. After a few more reminders, I said “Ah, you must be too sleepy to clean at the moment. Let’s make you a little bed.” He nodded and cuddled up on a sheepskin with a beanbag as a pillow and a play-cloth as a cover. I hummed a little, although Charlie never went to sleep. In a few minutes, he stood up, and began picking up blocks, walnuts used for counting games, and books to put back on the shelf. Together we put every single item back, stood at the center, looked about, and said out loud, “I did that!”
Over the next three months, Charlie’s outbursts became less frequent, and I wondered if he was perhaps growing more confident about the ground on which to build his home. One day, as we were finishing up a lesson, a classmate asked him if he was returning to our school next year. Without a trace of his usually muffled and hesitant speech, Charlie plainly said “Yes. And we’ll have to make sure we change this to the third grade classroom because I love it here and I want to stay.”