Lib Ed - articles
The Baumgarten Children's Home
Siegfried Bernfeld
The Kinderheim Baumgarten was a Jewish children’s home set up in Vienna
after the first world war by the American Joint Committee, Vienna Branch.
There were three hundred children there, in unfinished buildings with not
enough heating, clothing, food, books or pencils. It ran from the 18th of
October, 1919 until the 15th of March, 1920, and in that short time
demonstrated the success of what they called “new education,” in the teeth of
continual disapproval from the authorities. The following article is an extract
from Anti-autoritäre Erziehung und Psychoanalyse, selected writings of
Siegfried Bernfeld, März Verlag, 1969. It shows how innovative Bernfeld’s
methods would still seem if they were reintroduced today.
People writing about education like referring to “the garden of childhood,”
and comparing the educator with the gardener. They are referring basically
to the gardener’s peripheral activities, as if his most important work was
pruning branches, digging up and digging in, pulling up weeds and finishing
things off with knife and shears. This calls up a picture of a completely
hysterical figure, running hither and thither, tying things up, watering and
cutting back and behaving as if it was he who made the grass grow, the
flowers bloom blue and red and the apples ripen; it does not recognise the
true picture of the contemplative man who does indeed do all those things,
but incidentally, not in order to make the plants grow, and grow a little more
as he would like; someone who really knows that what they need is rain, air
and soil, and that if he can’t provide those then he is left only with pale
anxieties and hopes. This quiet man’s true function is to learn to understand
his charges and their needs by careful observation and to create the
conditions for the fulfilment of these needs, but to do all this in the calm and
security that is a natural consequence of affectionate, understanding
observation.…
In the same way, the new educator’s activity could be better described as
non-activity, observing, watching and loving rather than perpetually
advising, punishing, teaching, challenging, forbidding, inspiring and
rewarding.
And that was why we, who are educators of this kind, or at least
would like to be, do not find it easy to say what we have been doing; we
would always have more to say about what the children were doing.
People, particularly the management, have criticised us for this behaviour.
We too were often uncertain about what we were doing, and used to
compare our actions with those that are usual in similar circumstances. Today,
however, we are able to say that in fundamental matters we, and the new
methods, were right. It was not always easy for us to be clear about this,
particularly as the environment in the Baumgarten was not at all favourable
to the natural development of new education. However, since our new
pedagogy always had the old one running alongside it as a reproach, a
challenge or a potential alternative, continuous comparison was both
necessary and possible. Hence let me follow this immediately with a few
examples of our deviant behaviour, concrete trifles which are significant in
their very triviality because thousands of them combine to make the life of a
school.
From the very first day the children made a considerable noise in the diningroom;
they shouted, pushed the tables about, banged their spoons on their
plates, fought, called angrily for their food, pestered the maids who were
giving out the food and so on and so forth. Old pedagogy demanded that this
should immediately be stopped. New pedagogy said that we too would like
the meal-times to be quieter, more concentrated, less irritating and
disagreeable for the adults, but we had time to think.
We asked ourselves how peace could be established in the dining-room. The
head teacher would have had to announce, with threats, that he required
absolute quiet, complete silence – with two or three hundred children a quiet
murmur would grow into a considerable noise, and what’s more the children
would be completely unable to understand the boundary between tolerable
and excessive noise and to respect it – and when it did not work he would
have first to threaten punishments and then to impose them. And perhaps
eventually the children would eat their meal in silence, to the delight of the
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head teacher, who saw his demands fulfilled, and to the astonished
admiration of any newly arrived visitor. But at the very least the teachers and
the head teacher, instead of being with the children at mealtimes, would have
had to stand over them and make sure they did not make any more noise
than was acceptable. And it would be just the same if the head teacher’s
harangue had given reasons for demanding silence, for instance that without
it the maids would find it difficult to do their work, or the teachers were tired
and wanted half an hour of quiet, and so on. The children would only hear
this as the banning of an enjoyable activity, because they are completely
indifferent to teachers and maids and their work and well-being.
So we did it differently. The teachers sat down here and there with the
children and joined in the noise, that is to say they talked to their neighbours
and got to know them. And then we considered what was needed for a
peaceful and dignified serving of food. And we soon saw that there had to be
enough plates, mugs and spoons, that food must be served quickly and fairly
in a fixed order, that there must be enough to eat, and so on. What we gained
from this interaction, from not beginning by demanding order, is shown by
the following quotation from a report written by teacher, Frau Gusti Bretter-
Mändl.
For example, there were fights at lunch again over spoons and who got bread
first, and so on. I never took a spoon if I had been given one because I was a
teacher. I gave it to the children, and my bread too, and so on, and I didn’t
begin to eat until everybody had everything. At first the children gave me
amazed, mistrustful looks, then they accepted the spoons in a way that showed
they were slightly ashamed – that was already great progress, they were
beginning to get the idea. And in the end it reached a point where none of
them would accept anything from me, and even competed as to who should
give me their spoon. That meant I had won. We liked one another. As food
was the most important thing in their lives, I was able to influence them by my
behaviour. If they saw that I was not eating much they persuaded me to eat, or
said, “Today you must eat with us.” For me that was the greatest proof of love.
Now I could start on teaching in the ordinary sense. I have seen how essential
it is for a teacher to live with the children, for her personality to make its effect
in every practical, everyday situation; if I had been able to be with the children
in the evenings and at all other times it would have been different again.
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And we all had similar experiences. Slowly, very slowly, but nevertheless
noticeably, order and peace developed in the dining-room, starting from the
separate points where the teachers were sitting, and spreading out into larger
and larger circles. Even before the time when the school community created a
list of dining-room rules and made sure that they were kept, it was already
being emphasised in discussions, with the complete understanding of all the
children, that we had to treat the maids with respect and that it was not
proper to “eat like animals.” And after three or four months we had flawless
order at the table (and this was acknowledged by the management too),
without any of us ever shouting out an angry “Quiet!” Order, not as a
compulsorily enforced, unexplained demand from the head teacher, who has
the power to demand it and to enforce it, but as an expression of a
community of young people and adults that had become well-mannered and
perceptive.
Right until the end there were some things that were not exactly as one or
another of us would have liked. It would have been easy for us to introduce
these things too, as we wanted, to suit our own standards. We did not do it,
because outward form only has meaning when it is the expression of emotion
or mood, and the progressive changes in orderliness at table were symptoms
of the progressive refinement of the social awareness, which had greatly,
though not completely, developed when we had to leave the Baumgarten.
Or:
The children drew all kinds of decorations and wrote all kinds of words on
the tables, the benches and the doors. Of course we agreed with the
management, that that is not appropriate in a well-run children’s home. But
we didn’t curse and punish; we didn’t even forbid it, and gained great
advantage from this. At the beginning the children did it right in front of us;
we knew what they were thinking, we saw who did it, and we took notice of
the situations they did it in. We also got to know those who were opposed to
such senseless destruction and supported them, gave the children paper to
draw on, pinned up sheets of drawing paper on several walls in the little ones’
space. And the naughtiness gradually stopped, as the children gradually came
to feel that they were the masters in the children’s home, that the furniture
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belonged to them, that by damaging it the only people they annoyed,
insulted and harmed were themselves.
Or:
A group of boys played football in an extreme, excessive and exaggeratedly
passionate way. This seemed to us in many respects undesirable. We would
have approved of restrained, cultivated play, even though other sporting
activities seemed to us to be of greater educational and social value.
However, the extent and the style of the way our Baumgarten boys played
the game seemed to us to involve too great a risk that the children, who
anyway had very few intellectual interests, might completely drown in the
limitless intoxication of movement and competition.
Of course we could have limited the time the playground was available, we
could have punished anyone who overstepped these limits, we could have
introduced compulsory cross-country sports, long-distance running and so on – and would still not have achieved one particular thing, a cultivation of sport
and care of the body, a control of the drive to play, a sublimation of the
strengths struggling to emerge in fighting, roughness, competition and
unlimited racketing around, and all this motivated from within. We did not
punish or curse or preach, but enthusiastically joined in; we rejoiced with the
boys when the team from the nearby boys’ school was beaten, resolved with
them to play better and more skilfully when we lost.
Admittedly we went against the basic principle that one must play properly,
well, fairly and honestly if one plays at all. Of course we often expressed our
opinions in conversation with individuals and with groups; we didn’t feign
approval when we did not approve; but we never spoke in that false, kindly,
admonishing tone, apparently only wanting to convince, that cunning
teachers like to assume when they know that if that doesn’t work then they
will resort to force. In contrast, our views were genuinely put forward in
opposition to, but with the same weight as, the children’s. And we found
supporters. In particular among the passionate players. Admittedly very late
and slowly. Our confidence in the laws of development of the child’s psyche
were severely tested in this particular question, only to be all the more
brilliantly justified in the end. It didn’t occur to us to resort to any means of
compulsion or to put through an apparently democratic decision in the school
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meeting, even when we saw the children were still happy with their own way
of doing things and wanted nothing to do with our improvements to the
game.
And then suddenly it happened in a great rush. Spontaneously, without our
knowing about it beforehand, they founded a football club, precisely those
who had come close to sharing our views; they made rules about times and
types of games, and brought the football to me with the request that I should
only give it out to approved people for the play-times; gymnastics, longdistance
running, cross-country games and last of all athletics were taken up
more actively. The members of the football club began to see to good
behaviour and gracious play; the narrow clique of football players was
broken up, football began to be one part – admittedly still a very favoured
part – of the system of games and exercises which belonged to the home as a
whole, and not to a gang within it. We gained even more from our
apparently laissez-faire approach. The boys found leaders in the teachers who
played with them. And they experienced and learned to retain a very fine
feeling of chivalry when they had to take care about the limited football skills
of an otherwise popular male teacher, or a highly respected woman; and
finally this chivalry also began to apply visibly to the weaker ones of their
own age.
Or:
On the second day I announced that all children older than nine could get
permission to go out under certain conditions. For every child who wanted to
go out, I noted down his supposed age and purpose; and knew after half an
hour, by comparison with our records, that most of them had lied. To be on
the safe side they had made themselves a few years older, and they were all
going “to tea with an aunt.” The exit permits that I signed were an instruction
to the management to give out bus-fares, which only those who had no
money were supposed to ask for. No child failed to claim the few pence, even
though many of them had plenty of pocket money by comparison.
At this point I ought to have shown myself in my full head-masterly
authority – the management demanded it, and so did my feelings as a teacher
who had not been respected. However, I just told the children that most of
them had lied and that this was unnecessary, because they had a right to go
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out, no matter where they were going, and we only needed the address so
that we would know where to look for them if they didn’t come back. And
instantly the number of lies reduced, but they didn’t really believe me, and
some of the braver ones tried me out. One said he wanted to go to the
cinema, and another said he wanted “to wander around the town for a bit.” It
is impossible to describe the vast astonishment of the children who were
present when I just wished them a good time and drew the attention of the
older ones to the complications of the tram connections in the town. Their
view of the world was shattered, because they had been sure that at last all
hell would break loose; the absence of such fury since they arrived at the
Baumgarten camp had put them into a weird, hitherto unknown situation, a
situation which, owing to the total impossibility of incorporating it into their
old patterns of life, left no way out but unlimited love. In an astonishingly
short time all lying at the distribution of exeats had absolutely completely
stopped. And this amoral but matter-of-fact and proper circumstance soon
turned into a genuinely moral one, when soon after the organic development
of the school community became clearly visible, I dropped my last arbitrary
powers and the school community elected exeat officials, and quickly and
fairly solved the financial problems associated with the exeats. The old
pedagogy would have shuddered to hear that I allowed children to go to the
cinema and would have reproached me bitterly.
The headmistress once met two children at the gate and naturally asked them
where they were going. because such worthless and pointless questioning is
one of the basic principles of the kind of pedagogy which makes a teaching
opportunity out of the tactless stammering that occurs as result of
embarrassment and the inability to say a simple “Good day” when a teacher
meets children. The children simply said , “To the cinema,” as they had said to
me. The headmistress “wouldn’t believe” that I had allowed it, and in any
case forbade it on her own account. When I was questioned about this I could
only cynically answer that I went to the cinema too and would be happy to
discuss the value of such outings with the children when the opportunity
arose, but there was still time for that; until then I was happy that the children
no longer lied to me, and did not disguise Joe Deebs as a kind aunt who gave
them bread.
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On the other hand I told the children (and the management were naturally
informed about this) that nobody could forbid them any kind of outing when
they were in possession of the official exeat filled in by the school community
– nobody, neither the headmistress, nor I, nor anyone else. You can
understand that such events were ideal for building up resentment in the
souls of those who were of the opinion that the children were there to satisfy
their unacknowledged needs for power and status meekly and safely and
over and above that expected regular general approval for being good (i.e.
strict) teachers; the kind of teachers who like school councils when they make
their difficult tasks easier, but hate them when they want to take their place in
all matters of authority.
Perhaps these concrete examples are enough to illustrate for the reader our
approach to children in general and to the children in our care in particular.
And I think that if we succeeded in anything, it was in the new tone in our
dealings with children. Although we were certainly not all the same. Among
the various people who made up the teaching body, there was a very
considerable variety of world views and attitudes, principles, insights,
experiences and behaviours. One or two were never able to set aside the
character of the school-master altogether. We adults also made far too little
effort to establish internal and external unity.
Nevertheless the most striking characteristic of our school was a really
serious and wide-ranging embodiment of the new kind of relationship
between adults (teachers) and children. Its general formulation could be
unconditional love and respect for children; ruthless limitations of all one’s
own longings for power, vanity, and desires to be masters and trainers.
Although basically this requirement has been around for such a long time,
though it seems so modern today, when the slogan is friendship between
teachers and pupils, it is still just as rare as ever to see it manifestly realised.
Perhaps the first criterion for judging that should be a negative one:
friendship must not mean lowering oneself to the children’s level, because
that would make the grown-up foolish; nor does it mean wanting the
children to like you, because in that case it would be hypocritical and aimless.
It means that the teacher must remain completely true to himself; the only
requirement is that he must be the kind of person that some of the children
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can love. And the first positive condition for that is that he must, quite simply,
love the children, and be sufficiently aware and accepting of his own wishes
and abilities not to not to feel his personal worth judged or his self-esteem
destroyed by a child’s words, manner or emotions. At the same time he must
be completely free of any over-evaluation of his own worth, which leads to
fundamental scorn for the condition of childhood. He has to have a calm,
clear relationship with his own childhood, so that he had no need to punish,
judge, train or repress himself in others – and if he is already secretly proud
of what a fine fellow he is, however clever and valuable he may be he must
be vividly aware that he began exactly like this child before him, and that the
child will do just as well as he has done, if it is only given the time. He
shouldn’t hold back his opinions, likes and dislikes and demands – the
children require it and would otherwise mistrust him – but not in such a way
as to convey that his opinions and wishes are differentiated from other
people’s by the fact that his remarks must be followed to the letter by the
appropriate action from the children.
An assured calm, and a wise patience are the basis for the friendliness that we
mean, which really changes the life of the school from the ground up, makes
it into a pedagogically creative achievement even if, for some reason or other,
popular modern institutions such as the school council, court and so on are
missing. If this friendliness is missing, the school community and all the rest
of it are nothing more than wretched bungling.
When the teachers show the right friendliness, the children show trust. This
concept is also very popular at the moment, but in an unbearably sweet and
sentimental form. I think I am telling the complete truth when I say: just as
most of our teachers have hit on the right kind of friendliness, so the children
have had the right trust in them. This happened in stages.
We took the children on in the situation I have already described
[summarised in the introduction to this extract], which was made even more
acute by the restlessness and anxiety which the new situation and the new
people must have caused them. Their previous carers and educators, all of
whose attempts to get jobs in the new children’s home I had bluntly rejected,
were very offended and told the children horror stories about us and our
intentions; on the other hand, before they moved to the Baumgarten, the
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head teacher had promised the children paradise. Now they saw that in
respect of food, accommodation and so on they had been lied to. And they
armed themselves to avoid being taken in by us, too, although they liked us
for our youth, calm and friendliness. They didn’t trust us one inch. When we
sat with them at lunch, when we were served after them, with exactly the
same as they had, and exactly the same amount as they had, it was extremely
weird: what sort of new trick was this unusual behaviour?
And that is what
happened with every measure which we had been sure would bring us an
affectionate response.
Luckily we did not do anything in order to win affection, but because we
thought it was right. Otherwise we would have suffered the same fate as the
teachers who took over the home after our conflict with the American Joint
Committee. (In a recent private conversation I reminded some of the 9- to 11-
year-old boys how they had mistrusted us to begin with, in order to warn
them against hostile behaviour towards the new teachers. Then one of the
smaller ones said, “Yes, that was quite different. We soon saw that you were
nice to us.
The new ones are nice to us, too, not at all strict, but they ‘are
always wasting time talking.’” How should I have answered such sharp
knowledge of people, such a strict and accurate pedagogical judgement?)
The first decisive step towards a better relationship happened because of
something that was so obvious to us that we had never imagined that it could
have been done any other way. We kept our word. If we had promised
something, it would obviously be done, without any expectation of thanks.
And if it couldn’t happen, we apologised to the children. Almost all of us
remember what an enormous impression this made on the children. It was
mostly only small things, but the sum of them over several days produced
the first step towards trust. They believed what we said. For almost three
months this relationship made no significant progress. There were indeed,
from the very beginning, individual children who had formed a deeper
attachment to one or the other of us, and these relationships developed and
refined themselves. The number of instances kept on gradually growing and
with the decisive first trust the a priori hostility towards most of the teachers
disappeared. But overall the behaviour of the children towards us was
distinctly cool, with a slight remainder of mistrust. They believed us, and
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above all the school community which was developing meanwhile, enough to
be friendly towards us.
But their overall consciousness and therefore their behaviour with us was one
of discontent, whining, complaint. The real theme of their conversation was:
we’re hungry: we’re cold: we’re ill: our shoes are broken: we haven’t got any
handkerchiefs, overcoats, toothbrushes, shoe-brushes: when will we ever get
to Holland or Switzerland? They considered themselves to be merely in
transit in the Baumgarten. In a few weeks or months this wonderful piece of
luck would happen, which was the consuming fantasy of almost every one of
them. However on no account would all this be expressed as one tells a friend
of one’s secret grievances, but aggressively, with hostility. Sometimes each of
us may have been close to a kind of despair, when all his love and kindness
met with no other response from the children than the often very unfair and
exaggerated, almost always spiteful, demanding complaints. On top of that
although the children, since they had found out that we never punished them
for the tone which they adopted towards us, only seldom spoke to us
“cheekily” and “cockily”, as the old pedagogy terms it, they did still behave
unkindly and rudely.
Anyone for whom friendship was only a pedagogical trick completely
unlearnt this during these months. However, for most of us it was part of our
characters and our emotional attitude towards children, so we stuck to our
tone, for the same reasons as we remained physically at the Baumgarten.
We
felt very clearly that the children were simply right. There was much too little
too eat, it was bitterly cold, the most primitive requirements for underwear,
clothes, comfort and furnishing were for a long time completely unsatisfied
by the administration, and when a slight improvement did happen, it was no
longer necessary for psychological reasons. We were all uninhibitedly on the
children’s side in all these things. Of course we told them about the many
difficulties, about the deprivations caused by the war, and the social misery,
of course we told them about children and people who were even worse off,
but essentially we recognised their full right to physical happiness. We froze
just as they did. In the Baumgarten we had no better or richer food behind
the children’s backs; but we also never lied to them about our situation at
home, and they knew that some of us caught up at home on what they
missed in the Baumgarten.
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This behaviour on the part of the children naturally never completely stopped
– we had never seriously expected that. It was a roundabout route which
there would have been no possibility of avoiding for the sake of the children
or us without deeply endangering the final outcome. While the children
complained for weeks and months about their current misery, they worked
through their hidden unhappiness that had been stored up for years, and
thoroughly healed those psychological wounds which the past had imposed
on them and which had become the source of their degeneration and
waywardness. A completely abnormal, unchildlike, even pathological
emotional life had developed in the process of age- and sex-related
displacement and separation. The means of this healing process, its
manifestations, could of course only be found in the sphere of the previous
conscious content of the psyche; healing could only be achieved through the
use of the previous ways of expressing feelings. While all this was being
worked through, thawing, newly freed emotions, which up to now had been
completely repressed or attached to the wrong things (for example the food),
began gently, unconsciously and inarticulately to make new connections, with
the teachers, with friends, with the school community, with the Histadruth
[the General Federation of Jewish Labour], with the Kwusoth [the Jewish
youth groups], with the children’s home in general.
Only when the majority of the children had reached this point (an exact date
for this can be given – the first half of January 1920), did the outer visibility
and shape of this new emotional condition begin to develop with the greatest
speed. Not until now had the feeling towards us, which had long ago
changed, also changed its content and form. The previous topics went right
into the background or disappeared. If people still mentioned complaints then
it was with considerably reduced emotional content, appropriate to the
situation. The children began to say more significant and refined things which
to some extent only became conscious, emerged and developed through
being spoken out loud. And every cheekiness or bluntness of behaviour
towards us disappeared totally. To be sure, the boys never turned into
teachers’ pets, as they themselves scornfully expressed it. They were
uninhibitedly open and lively, man to man, with unsuspected warmth and
restrained affection. Many of the children became chivalrous, devoted,
attentive and hyper-courteous; many retained a grumpy, aggressive surface
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that was occasionally broken by impulsive love and affection; many hid the
true direction of their feelings from themselves and others all too obviously
behind a surface of irony and naughtiness.
In the second and third months of this stage, so from the end of February to
the middle of March, we completely achieved what every pedagogy strives
towards as its ultimate objective and cannot be achieved by any other means
or methods than through the right attitude to the children and the necessary
patience; the children had acquired an emotional life and fixed very
considerable amounts of the freed-up libido on the teachers and the home
and were beginning to connect their ever-richer emotional life to the other
children as well.
A further but very much clearer measure of this development was their
attitude towards going abroad. At first Holland was the star and centre of all
their longing; there were wild scenes when one of the children who had been
sure he would find a place was turned down; they unscrupulously tried the
most refined undercover manoeuvres in order to be accepted – even those
who were otherwise showing the clear beginnings of a sense of justice; those
who were chosen were blissful, those left behind deeply depressed, only
sustained by one hope – the next time. That was how it was with the first
transport in November. With the second it was still similar. Nevertheless
there were not a few who announced that they wouldn’t try to get accepted
by cheating, and they showed themselves to be consistent and really strict in
the interpretation of the concept of “cheating.” Those who were going said
goodbye often and at length; requested a leaving school assembly for
themselves, were very conscientious and solemn when they passed on their
official positions, were very interested in the possible shape of things while
they were away and enjoyed the idea of coming back; those who stayed
behind were no longer in the least speechless and inconsolable, they were
pleased that they could stay, that “that was how it was.” The third and fourth
transports saw a considerable number who absolutely refused to go for the
medical examination and hardly anybody wanted to go away; a single one of the children who were rejected was offended or upset.
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