Waldorf

by

Poetry: Saying Goodbye

The Waldorf school my daughter graduated from last week names each class after a tree. That tree becomes the class name, a symbol to rally the class together and form them into a cohesive unit. I wrote this poem to honor her teacher and the Linden tree class. The image was drawn on the chalkboard by her lovely teacher on their very first day together. I hope you enjoy it.

Under the Linden Tree

I. Branches and Leaves

Swept forth into the strong branches 
of the Linden tree, you call out “look at me”
and “it’s not fair” straining to be heard among 
the others. Within your fellow heart-shaped
leaves you found symmetry, serrated edges—your
pointed tips sharpened by your proximity to 
magic.

Noisy bees circled, drawn by your
sweetness, your softness transformed by 
storms into hardened beauty carved into 
any form you like. Tilia, basswood, lime—
your names ring out like justice and peace
dancing around the base of graceful towering
magic.

Seasons danced happily through your 
green leaves, braced together and held firm
by the juggling trunk’s deep roots far deeper
than any tempest could shake. Tiny creamy 
yellow flowers burst forth in bundles, hanging 
tight to the tree with ambrosial scented, delicate
magic.

Youth green fullness, brash and vividly bold,
gave way to golden autumn’s crisp firmness
curled tight together clinging on for one more
precious moment. Yet, breezes come to transform
one into many, flying on fitted spiraling wings from
your fertile orchard, singing the forever song of Linden
magic.

II. Trunk

Blown into an orchard, banded cord thick with
butterflies, steady roots plant deep in slippery soil 
ripe with crawling, noisy seekers crying out with
“whys” and “how comes.” Beneath the Linden
branches the red-winged cardinal’s two-part whistle 
sings of beginnings, suns, moons—ancient woody 
magic.

Gathered together under loosely woven branches
communing and feasting wildness transforms into 
dancing movement. Light streaks through limbs to
cover crowns as Jack Frost frolics with snowflakes as
hands, melting hardness into puddles of kindred
kindness. Leafy bunches become conical, balanced
magic.

Ridged, furrowed scaly bark grows and smooths  
until shining with etched runes it reaches across
fast-moving water to capture sacred geometric
truths within bright colored folds. Bears prowl 
near, scratching fears, stretching up toward 
cascading waters, ravens, dragons, stones–Earth
magic.

Winds blow birds nests nestled into grooves worn 
smooth by patient hands. Across distances the song
remains strong, drawing the Linden into itself, singing
melodies deeply woven through delicate leafy veins
forever connected, forever entwined, forever part of 
sunlight’s loving embrace, warmth wrapped in bonded
magic.

by

Casting stones with third graders

rockAs they filed passed her, she grabbed a smooth stone from the basket and placed it into their waiting hands. In silence they accepted the stone and lined up outside the classroom.

For the next 20 minutes or so they walked in complete silence. Some clutched the stone toward their chest. Others tossed it in the air occasionally letting it fall to the ground. All were silent.

They followed their teacher as she led them off the school campus, across the street, through the neighborhood to a well-worn path that cut down to the river.

Forming a line along the river’s edge, the children watched their teacher and mimicked her movements. She held the stone out in front of her with both hands. She closed her eyes. When she opened them she threw the stone out into the river and watched the ripple cascade out from where it fell. Recognizing their cue, all the children started tossing in their stones. They stood quietly watching where they fell.

Stepping back from the river they formed a circle.

“Would anyone like to share what they were thinking about?”

Hands raised very quickly.

“I was thinking how I need to be nicer to my brother.”

“I want to do more things for my dog.”

“I want to work on my patience.”

“I think I can listen to my mom more.”

After sharing, the class sang several songs they had prepared for the day. The songs were filled with glee and hopefulness.

The walk back was anything but quiet. Lots of silliness, giggling and reflection.

“That was weird not talking, but cool.”

“I think we could have surprised a deer!”

“I’m proud of our class.”

Once in the classroom they had the traditional snack of apples and honey.

The teacher then presented the children with a new stone and said “Shanah Tovah,” which means “Good Year.”

The stones that were thrown in the river represented things to “cast off” from the previous year. The new stone represents the year to come.

This was my sons third grade class celebrating Rosh Hashanah. He attends a charter Waldorf school and it’s part of the third grade curriculum. They have been learning, through story and watercolor painting, the creation story. Rosh Hashanah is the “anniversary” of the creation of Adam and Eve.

These are 8- and 9-year-old children who walked in complete silence for almost 30 minutes AND participated in self-reflection.

Love this.

Next week the children will be building temporary structures called sukkah’s and the week will culminate in an evening feast for all the families.

Love this too.

I feel so lucky to have witnessed this beautiful example of reverence and reflection that is at the heart of Waldorf education.

I was even able to cast my own stone into the water. As I watched it sink to the bottom I tried to let all my pain, anger and sadness sink with it.

I’m doing work, my friends. I am starting to feel hope. Thanks for all the kind words and hugs. They have not gone unnoticed or unappreciated.

Shanah Tovah.