The Road to the Teacher Training, by Carlyn Scheinfeld, Class of 2008


I believe my journey back to Waldorf has been a lifelong one. When I was two and living in Florida, my mom put me in a Waldorf preschool. I have more visceral memories of those days of school than any others. I remember eurythmy, sitting at a table having snack, painting with watercolors, being taken by the hand and walking through a doorway of warmth and song. The school closed and I went on to attend eleven different public and private schools before graduating high school. I never attended another Waldorf school.

My younger brother was a colicky baby. My mom devoted much of her life to finding the perfect school for him. She found a Waldorf school for him in Garden City, New York. He attended twice at different times. I could not go as we didn't have enough money, and the family thought it was a Christian school so they wouldn't help with tuition.

Through the school, we learned of a Waldorf summer camp for children ages eight through twelve. I was thirteen when I went to Camp Glenbrook for the first time, and I paid my way as a counselor-in-training, a dishwasher and a counselor. Suddenly the songs and painting of my toddlerhood were brought back into my life. Each year I dreamed of summer so I could leave my suburban home and learn how to shear sheep, card wool, grow vegetables and carve linoleum.

After five summers at Glenbrook, I was sure only that I loved working with children. There was something magical about Waldorf children. I went to college with the intention of becoming a pediatrician or a public health worker, but after spending a year in West Africa and deeply comprehending that education is the only effective preventative medicine, I got a Masters and a teaching credential.

I have just finished my fourth year of teaching middle school. After three years, I had to find a way to bring the warmth and love I remembered into my classroom. I must have gone on about Waldorf because my boyfriend did some research about the teacher training. He said if I didn't go, he would. So I began crossing the bridge each weekend between my East Oakland classroom and the Marin Waldorf school. And slowly, the two worlds have started to merge. My classroom has become a living, breathing place of love! I am so thrilled to be here!