Tag: teachers

The Importance of Imagination

November 8th, 2026

“When I think back on all the crap I learned in high school
It’s a wonder I can think at all
And though my lack of education hasn’t hurt me none
I can read the writing on the wall”

– from the song “Kodachrome” by Paul Simon

“Tamarack Waldorf School strives to spark curiosity and creativity in every child through hands-on, art- and nature-based education for a diverse community of students in the heart of Milwaukee.”

– the mission statement from Tamarack Waldorf School

“Imagination is more important than knowledge. Knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world.”

– Albert Einstein

Our grandson, Asher, is in kindergarten at Tamarack Waldorf School. Waldorf education is a niche teaching philosophy/system. Very few parents know about it, and even fewer are willing to put their children into that pedagogical environment. Admittedly, Waldorf is not for everybody. Our three kids all went to Waldorf schools when they were young, a quarter century ago. None of them have forgiven us for sending them there. I think they all got something out of the experience, but they haven’t quite figured out what that might be. Waldorf is not like most other schools, whether they be public or private. My wife and I tried a number of different ways to educate our kids, and that included homeschooling for a few years. The kids all wound in public high school after spending some years in Waldorf. That was a function of the total lack of any Waldorf high schools closer than Chicago. If there had been a Waldorf high school in the Milwaukee area, they would have gone there.

So, how is Waldorf different from other educational systems? I don’t even know where to start. I guess it is best to begin by looking at the school’s goals. You probably read the Tamarack mission statement that posted earlier in this essay. Focus on the words “curiosity” and “creativity”. The faculty at Tamarack really and truly tries to encourage those two attributes. The teachers want to students to want to learn. They attempt to draw unique strengths and abilities out of each child. They do this with art, music, storytelling, and other activities that require imagination. Imagination is fundamental to the curriculum.

Do other schools do that? Maybe, but not nearly as much. At many other schools the primary goal is for the students to do well on standardized tests. The students are encouraged to compete against their peers, even in kindergarten. I believe that most schools are designed to satisfy the needs of corporate America. They often produce worker bees, but not individuals who can think for themselves. Our children are now adults who think independently. They look at the world from a different angle than most other people. They may not always make wise decisions, but they make them on their own.

Waldorf education has a spiritual underpinning. Waldorf schools are not religious schools, but it assumed that there is more than just the material world. There is more to life than working to acquire consumer goods. Nature matters. Humans of every color, culture, and creed matter. Being a compassionate person matters.

A teacher at a Waldorf school may not excel at everything. They are mere mortals like the rest of us. However, they care about their students and that concern shows in their work every day. Many years ago, when our daughter graduated from Tamarack, her long-time main teacher told the people attending the graduation ceremony a story. The teacher explained how she meditated on each of her students every night before going to bed. She added that, sometimes, a child from her class would appear to her in her dreams and tell her what they needed. I found that level of commitment to be amazing.

Now, it’s Asher’s turn to go to Tamarack. He is doing well in kindergarten thus far. He sings songs in the car that he learned in class. He draws and paints at home. He is constantly nagging my wife and me to tell him stories, and he actively participates in creating the narratives. He is slowly learning to read and do math on his own, without any pressure from us, and I think he is doing these things simply because he wants to. He wants to learn.

That’s a win.

Coming Full Circle

May 31st, 2025

We took our grandson, Asher, to the May Festival a couple days ago. The May Festival is an annual event put on by the Tamarack Waldorf School. It celebrates the arrival of spring, which in Wisconsin is well-worth celebrating. We live in a climate where it is not unusual for people to wear hoodies on Memorial Day or even well into June. It has only been within the last week or two that all the trees finally have their leaves. When our world suddenly turns a vibrant green it’s definitely party time.

The festival was held in a tiny park a couple blocks from the school. Tamarack is located on Brady Street on the lower east side of Milwaukee. The school really has no green space of its own, so the park is better place to celebrate the annual resurgence of the natural world. There is a small knoll in the park. That is where everyone gathered in a circle at the beginning of the festival. Karin, Asher, and I got there just as the show was about to start. We found a place in the circle. It was an eclectic group: caregivers, little kids, and a few teachers. The school has a diverse population. It even had that twenty-five years ago when our children attended the school. In a way, it felt like we were back home.

One of the teachers led the entire circle in an a cappella version of a Waldorf song. The tune was accompanied by body movements. The teacher had told all the newbies to watch what the older kindergarteners (“the tall pines”) did and just follow their lead. The song was a hymn of praise to nature and springtime. It might have been a bit overly sentimental, but it struck a chord in each person in the circle.

After the song, the kids dispersed to do other activities. The school had set up a station to give each child a temporary tattoo (the logo for the school). There was also a table to get bags of popcorn. There was a place to blow soap bubbles. Most of the children gravitated to the jungle gym. That’s where Asher went.

I stood on the mound and stared at the other families at the gathering. My mind flipped between the present scene and images from a quarter century ago. There was feeling of disorientation and profound sadness. A lot can happen in a family in twenty-five years, and in our family a lot did happen. A kid went to war. A kid got divorced. A kid did time in prison. Those are just the highlights. My mind flickered between memories of our children when they were innocents and the current group of kids playing and laughing in the park where I was standing. So much was different and so much has been lost. I didn’t know what I was doing when I raised our kids. As I watched the children, I asked myself, “Do I know any better this go around?” I have no idea. Then I caught a glimpse of Asher doing exactly what a four-year-old should be doing. I got my balance back.

Karin and I struck up a conversation with a kindergarten teacher who might become Asher’s guide in the fall. We told her a bit about the old days, when this school was just starting. Karin and I were there at the very beginnings of the organization. We didn’t stay long. I couldn’t deal with the chaos and conflicting interests that accompanied the birth of the school. I was an angry and impatient bastard back then, and I was not at all helpful. We homeschooled for three years and then we came back to school after the dust settled a bit.

The teacher was fascinated by our history lesson. Karin drifted off to talk to other folks that she knew. I told the teacher more stories of the school. She seemed interested and I love an attentive audience. I told her about the time I was a chaperon for our youngest son’s class trip to New Orleans. We went there in 2008, three years after Katrina. That was an adventure, but then I am convinced that any visit to New Orleans qualifies as an adventure. The teacher I spoke with had been to “N’aalins” years ago and she fell in love with the town. So, did I. We agreed that the city has a soul, and it teems with both angels and demons.

Later, I found Karin again. She was talking with a young man who had once been a teacher at the school. I didn’t recognize him at first. His hair was thinner, and his middle was thicker. We talked for a while. He remarked that we were back in the school with Asher, and that we had “come full circle”.

That’s not quite accurate. A person never comes full circle. A person may return to a place or to an organization, but that individual comes back different and returns to something that has also changed and has changed forever. We are coming back to Tamarack, but it isn’t the same school. Oh, the school is still in the same building, and the curriculum is pretty much the same, but in some ways, it is alien to us.

I looked at the new parents at the festival and I saw strangers. They have more tattoos and piercings than my generation ever had. They have different views of what it means to be a family. They have different challenges, and they probably can’t understand our struggles. They are bringing new things to an education model that is already a century old. Their children, like our Asher, are entering a world beyond my comprehension.

At the same time, I can see, or better feel, the similarities between these young people and me. We have the same fears. We have the same hopes. We might all become friends. That is my hope and wish. My wife and I are entering the winter of our lives. The other parents are beginning their summers. All of our little ones are laughing and crying in the early springtime of their generation. We have that in common.