It’s not necessarily because they’re the easiest to prepare for (are any of them?!), but because there’s something so satisfying about teaching content that makes sense and feels exactly right for the children who are sitting in front of you.

As I was thinking through the curriculum recently, I found myself thinking about why this incredible curriculum is such a tremendous GIFT. There are some blocks that make me think, Oh yeah. This is Waldorf thing is pretty great.

Here are a few of them, three, to be exact, from three very different ages.

The First Block of First Grade

The first one actually has very little to do with the content.

For many Waldorf teachers, the first block of first grade is form drawing. I love form drawing, and I do think it is the perfect block to teach at this time, but what I really love about those first few weeks is the opportunity to teach children how to be together in a classroom.

Where do the crayons go? How do we hand out scissors? What happens when the teacher asks for everyone’s attention? How do we show that we’re listening? How do we transition from one activity to another?

These things seem so small that it’s easy to assume children already know them.

But they don’t and we do them a huge disservice when we assume that they do and get frustrated when they don’t respond the way we think they should know to do.

And when we haven’t taught those expectations explicitly, it’s not really fair to get frustrated when children don’t meet them.

This is one of those places where going slowly at the beginning pays off for the rest of the year (and the next few years!). You’re establishing rhythms and habits that will become so automatic that you hardly have to think about them. But the key is to develop some habits in yourself first. Develop the habit of clearly explaining to your students what your expectations are and you’ll be a much happier teacher, because you’ll have students who will happily comply.

The children really want to do the right thing, especially in first grade. When you give an instruction and then immediately acknowledge two children who were already following it, the others look around and start hustling to do the right thing so they can also get acknowledged.

“Sam has his book open and is ready.”

“Maria has put her crayons away.”

Suddenly, everyone else knows exactly what to do—and most of them want to do it.

Little things like this make it so easy to be positive in the classroom, which is genuinely fun and feels so good. I remember realizing that I often ended those first-grade lessons in a better mood than I had started them. There was so much opportunity to notice what was going well.

Fifth Grade Botany

With fifth grade Botany, it really is the content that I love.

There is so much beauty in botany: gorgeous drawings, color, poetry, observation, diagrams. But alongside all of that imagination and artistry, there’s real scientific content.

And I think that’s exactly what makes it such a wonderful fifth-grade block. It brings a beautiful combination of art and science. Some students are hungry for the scientific details that they feel like we’re always telling them they’re too young for. Others need the imaginative content to really connect with it all.

So in the Botany block, we get to do both, and it is so much fun. Not easy, but such a lovely expression of the art of teaching.

To make it easier, when I prepare a block like this, I like to imagine two particular students.

First, I think of the child who needs imagination. This is the child who understands the world through pictures and stories. Give them a vivid image and they’re right there with you.

Then I think of the child who wants facts. They want to know the names of the parts. They want to know how it works. They’re ready for science.

How can I create a lesson that feeds both of them?

Botany gives us such a wonderful opportunity to do exactly that.

And then there’s biography.

This is something I came to appreciate more and more as I taught the upper grades. When content starts becoming more scientific or abstract, find the human being.

In Botany, I’ve brought stories of Julia Butterfly Hill and Wangari Maathai. I’ve told the stories of John Muir and Gifford Pinchot, whose life’s work gave us a chance to explore the ideas of preservation and conservation.

Biography gives children a way into ideas and concepts that might otherwise feel dry.

And this isn’t limited to Botany. I’ve used biography in business math, rocks and minerals, chemistry—you can bring a human story alongside almost anything.

Sixth Grade Geometry

It’s hard to pick a favorite amongst your children, but to be honest, this block is probably my absolute favorite.

If you told me tomorrow that I needed to teach sixth-grade geometry again, I’d be pretty happy about it.

This block meets the sixth grader in such an incredible way, and honestly, in a way that I really needed too, the first time I taught it.

Sixth graders are standing at a threshold. Adolescence is coming, with all the emotional turbulence that comes along with it.

And what do we give them?

A compass and a straightedge. Tools to construct and create a beautifully lawful drawing.

There is something wonderfully appropriate about that.

Geometry gives sixth graders an experience of a world that has structure. There are laws, order, and things you can count on.

And when you follow those laws carefully, something beautiful emerges. In fact, what emerges is more beautiful because it is an expression of those laws.

That’s what I love most about the drawings students create in this block. They’re not beautiful simply because someone has drawn something pretty.

They’re constructed.

The compass, straightedge, and pencil allow students to discover forms they couldn’t possibly create with the same precision freehand. And then they add color and suddenly this carefully constructed, lawful form becomes a work of art.

The best blocks aren’t simply interesting subjects.

They meet the children where they are and then give them exactly the experience they’re ready for next.

What block would you happily teach again?

I’d love to do some deeper dives into individual blocks in future podcast episodes and posts. Fourth-grade local geography is already on my list because I think there’s so much to say about why that block meets the fourth grader so beautifully.

If there’s one you’d especially like me to explore, leave a comment and let me know.

For paid subscribers: I thought I’d go one step further and share what I would actually do if I were preparing to teach each of these blocks again—what I’d prioritize, what I’d plan ahead, and what I’ve learned from teaching them before.

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I talk a lot about storytelling in Waldorf education, and when I talk about it, I often describe our goal as helping children create pictures in their imaginations. As we tell a story, we want the children to be actively creating images in their mind’s eye.

You know you’ve seen it. It’s when you look at your students as you’re telling a story and their jaw is dropped slightly open, they’ve got a distant gaze in their eyes, and you know they’re imagining the whole world you’re creating as you speak.

But this listener asked: What about the children—or teachers—who can’t do that?

It’s true. It’s increasingly difficult for people to build pictures in their imaginations. Whether it’s because they have aphantasia (a term that refers to this inability) or because they’re just out of practice because this busy world makes it so difficult to stop and imagine- it’s not easy to create images.

This question made me realize that I’ve probably talked about imaginative teaching too narrowly at times.

What do we really mean by “picture it”?

When we tell a story in a Waldorf classroom, some children really do seem to have a little movie playing in their minds.

You can sometimes see it happening. Their eyes go up, their attention turns inward, and you can almost watch the story unfolding for them.

But I’ve taught plenty of children who don’t listen to stories that way.

I’ve had students who put their heads down on their desks while I tell a story. They’re listening, but their experience doesn’t seem particularly visual.

Other children don’t seem to fully connect with the story until the next day. Sometimes it happens while we’re drawing. For others, it’s while they’re writing about it. And sometimes something emerges during the class review that makes me think, Oh. You were taking that in after all.

And even during the story itself, there are so many ways to connect that have nothing to do with creating a detailed mental picture. A child might hear the rhythm of the language. Or connect deeply with a character’s emotional experience.

They’re building connections. Which is what we’re really hoping for?

Imagination is more than mental pictures

I still think there is tremendous value in helping children develop the capacity to create inner pictures. I’m not ready to set that goal aside.

But I also don’t think we need to prioritize that particular experience of imagination to the exclusion of everything else.

When I say that I want children to “picture” a story, what I really want is for them to live into it—to give it life and meaning.

And a mental image of their own creation is just one way that can happen.

Thinking about this reminded me of an idea I learned about in my Waldorf teacher training and haven’t revisited in years: the polarity of the cosmic child and the earthly child.

The dreamers and the doers

Now, insert the big disclaimer that comes when we start talking about different types of children. My goal here is not to strictly categorize children and pigeonhole them into a particular personality type. But sometimes frameworks are helpful for understanding children.

Waldorf education gives us a number of these frameworks. The temperaments are probably the most familiar example.

When I first encountered some of these ideas, I was desperate to try to understand my own children better, so I grasped onto them tightly, reading through all of the descriptions, trying to determine which temperament my child fit into. I thought that if I found the right category, I would have the key to understanding them.

Of course, it doesn’t work that way.

Over the years, I’ve become much more cautious about these frameworks. I think they can be useful as lenses—different ways of noticing and understanding the children in front of us.

The cosmic and earthly child is one of those lenses.

The cosmic child is the dreamy one. This child has a rich internal world of pictures, memories, and imagination. A story can immediately come alive inside them. They may also have a harder time connecting with the here and now—with the physical, practical, doing part of life.

The earthly child sits at the other end of that polarity. These are the doers. They want to touch, build, move, create, and experience the physical world. They may prefer concrete reality and cause and effect to abstract stories and living pictures.

As I write this, I’m smiling a bit thinking of the different cosmic and earthly students I’ve had in my classes through the years. So hear me when I say, neither is better.

In fact, all of us have some of both.

The goal isn’t to create a classroom full of cosmic children who can sit perfectly still while we tell beautiful stories and produce vivid inner pictures. Because those kiddos (as sweet and dreamy as they are) would happily sit in the world of their dreams all day long, and never get anything done.

And those earthly kiddos are great when it comes to making things happen in the world, but they need a little help creating the vision.

The goal is balance.

Meet them where they are

If I have a very cosmic child, I don’t necessarily need to give that child more opportunities to retreat into a dreamy imaginative world. That capacity is already a strength.

I might instead look for ways to help that child become more grounded: physical work, movement, practical tasks, experiences that connect them more strongly with their body and the world around them.

And if I have a very earthly child, it probably isn’t particularly helpful to insist that this child sit still at a desk, listen to a story, and create beautiful pictures in their mind.

That isn’t meeting them where they are.

Instead, I can start with the gifts they already bring. Let them do something. Maybe they can act out the story, draw it, move their bodies in some way. Give them a concrete way to enter the experience—and from there, perhaps we can help nurture the imaginative capacities that don’t come quite as naturally.

This is something we do all the time as teachers: we meet children where they are, use the capacities they already have, and gently help them develop the ones that are less available to them.

There’s more than one way into a story

Yes, I want to tell stories that inspire imagination.

Yes, I want children to develop the ability to create inner pictures.

But I don’t want to mistake one expression of imagination for imagination itself.

Not every child will see the whole story unfold like a movie.

Our job isn’t to make every child experience it in the same way. Our job is to bring it with enough life that each child has the possibility of finding their own way in.

So, in an effort to help you think about your students and determine what is the best way for each one to think connect with your stories, I put together a list of questions to prompt your thinking.

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Even if your first day of school is weeks away, your mind starts to turn toward lesson plans, classroom preparation, and the long list of things you hope to accomplish before the children arrive.

The temptation is to begin with the curriculum. Because, yeah, that’s the fun part. (If my younger self knew how much absolute delight I get from lesson planning, she would do some big-time eye-rolling.)

And it doesn’t hurt that I’ve got a thing for stationery. I mean, the joy of opening the planner. Finding the stories. Taking notes with my favorite fountain pen. Sounds like a delightful way to spend a too-hot summer afternoon.

But over the years, I’ve found that my best planning rarely begins there.

Instead, I come back to three relationships that shape everything else: my relationship with the children, my relationship with their families, and my relationship with myself as a teacher.

Begin with the children.

Before I write a single lesson, I write out my class list.

As I write their names, I spend a few quiet minutes with each child.

Sometimes I simply write their name. Sometimes I jot down a memory from the previous year, something they loved, a challenge they were working through, or a question I’m carrying about what they might need this year.

The notes themselves aren’t particularly important.

What matters is the time. In the same way that writing out my story each day gives me time to slow down and live into the images and enliven my own imagination, these notes bring the child to life for me.

Those few minutes help me build a living picture of each child again. When I begin planning after doing this, the lessons no longer feel like something I’m creating for an imaginary class. They are written for these particular children.

That changes everything.

Then think about the families.

Every child arrives surrounded by a family who is placing an incredible amount of trust in us.

As teachers, our primary work is with the children, but that work is possible because of the relationship we build with their families.

Before the year begins, I like to ask myself a few simple questions:

• Which families may need extra reassurance?

• Who might appreciate a phone call instead of another email?

• Who would love to have a meaningful role in the life of the classroom?

• How can I help each family feel connected to our community?

I don’t have perfect answers to those questions, and I certainly can’t meet every need perfectly.

But asking the questions and thinking deeply about the families’ needs is a powerful way to start the year.

Finally, prepare your future self.

We often think of teacher self-care as something we do outside of school.

A new notebook. A favorite cup of coffee. A haircut before the first day.

And those things certainly have their place. (Who doesn’t love starting the year with a new do?)

But I’ve found that the greatest gift I can give myself is creating rhythms and systems that will support me long after the fresh new start of September has faded.

Of course, I think about my planner and the physical items that will help me create structure and rhythms in my life. But I also think about the practices and structures that already exist, and then build new routines around them.

Things like making a big pot of soup on Sunday so you’ve got lunches all week. Or planning to go to the local burrito place on Tuesdays because that’s cello lesson night.

Find the household rhythms that make busy weeks feel manageable.

Because here’s the thing, I think burnout isn’t about having too much to do.

It’s usually about having no predictable rhythm in which to do it. When tasks come at you fast and furious and somewhat randomly, it’s stressful. When we can plan for them, anything’s possible.

Don’t let cello night surprise you . . . every single week.

For paid subscribers

This week, take fifteen or twenty quiet minutes and create three simple lists:

• your class list, with a few notes about each child

• your family list, with one intention for connecting with each family

• a list of three rhythms or systems that will support you throughout the school year

You don’t need to solve every problem before school begins.

Come share them in the comments of this post. Let’s give each other ideas for the little structures and rhythms we can create to get the year started right.

And, I really bought into the idea that engagement is the best way to manage a classroom. I figured that if my students were difficult to manage, it must mean that my stories weren’t engaging enough. So I spent hours preparing this part of my lessons.

Over time, I realized something really important: the stories are only one part of the work. There’s so much else that goes into a well-crafted lesson, and engagement isn’t the only way to manage students.

AND (and this was the big a-ha moment!) if you have a really solid rhythm, you don’t have to plan everything from scratch every single day. Rhythm can do a whole lot of the work for you. And it can make some big decisions when you’re just too fried to figure it all out yourself.

When do we paint? When do we practice spelling? When do we introduce something new? How should the review happen? When should we bake, garden, knit, or take a long nature walk?

If every one of those decisions has to be made from scratch every week, teaching becomes exhausting.

A weekly rhythm changes that.

Instead of asking, “What should we do today?” you begin asking, “What belongs on a Wednesday?”

That small shift makes an enormous difference.

Rhythm Creates Freedom

One of the paradoxes of the universe is that structure creates freedom. I mean, ask any artist, and they’ll tell you that limitations fuel innovation and creativity. When we know where the guardrails are, there’s suddenly room for inspiration.

It’s that whole between form and freedom notion.

At first glance, a weekly rhythm can seem restrictive. Why should painting always happen on the same day? Why assign handwork to Thursdays? Doesn’t that make things rigid? Shouldn’t we allow the artistry of the lesson to unfold and craft lessons that are responsive to the interests of the students?

I mean, that’s how I learned to do it. And that’s how I taught for my first few years. And I suppose there’s always some element of adjusting and responding to the students’ interests. But, I found that there’s a better way. There’s a balance.

When the broad shape of the week is already established, my attention is free for the things that matter most: the children in front of me, what they’re noticing, and the little nuances of the story that suddenly seem like the most important thing. Sometimes it’s having a strong rhythm that frees me up to pay attention to that stuff.

So, instead of reinventing the wheel every Sunday evening, I work on simply filling in a familiar framework.

The rhythm carries me. It helps me envision the week. And it helps me get over my Sunday Scaries, and spend just a little bit less time planning.

The Quality of Each Day

Some teachers consider the qualities of each day of the week when deciding what activities to plan. Just like there is an annual rhythm, with times of inbreath and times of outbreath, there’s a weekly rhythm, too. Some days are great for creating something new, other days are good for reflecting and turning inward. If you’ve been teaching for awhile, you may have even found that it’s really difficult to do some activities on some days.

Here are some of the rhythms I noticed.

Monday has a gentle, receptive quality. It feels like a good day to gather everyone back together, tell a new story, or introduce something fresh.

Tuesday often feels energetic and active. It’s a wonderful day for practice, movement, and digging into the work.

Wednesday sits at the center of the week. It often has a feeling of balance and focus—a good day for painting or sustained artistic work.

Thursday tends to invite craftsmanship and perseverance. Handwork, woodworking, baking, gardening, or practical arts often feel at home here.

By Friday, the week naturally wants to come together. It’s a day for celebration, music, performances, sharing work, reflection, and looking back at what has been accomplished.

Now, do you have to follow this?

Of course not.

This isn’t a rulebook.

It’s an invitation to observe.

Try it for a few weeks. Notice whether certain activities seem to fit naturally on particular days. Pay attention to how the children respond. You may discover that the rhythm begins to emerge almost on its own.

Start Small

Of course, you don’t have to design the perfect weekly rhythm all at once. I recommend looking at some of the rhythms that already exist in your work. Maybe you’ve found that you tend to take your students for a Monday morning walk. Or maybe you’ve already got a Friday spelling quiz practice.

Look for ways to enhance the rhythms that already exist in your classroom. And choose maybe one or two anchor points, and lean into them.

Over time, those anchors become the framework around which everything else naturally finds its place.

The goal is to create a week that feels predictable, peaceful, and deeply alive—for both you and your students.

For paid subscribers

I put a little document together that can guide your weekly rhythm planning. It walks through the different qualities of each weekday, includes planning prompts, and gives examples of how you might build a rhythm that fits your own classroom.

Paid subscribers can download it below.

🧡 Meredith
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Curriculum

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I learned in my teacher training that the skill-building content, the doing portion of the lesson, should emerge naturally out of the story content. That if I let the story go to sleep, I’d wake up in the morning with the inspiration to guide that day’s activity.

And it’s true that this did often happen. Most of the time, when I was washing the dishes that night or rinsing out the shampoo in my morning shower, I’d have an idea for what the content “wanted to become.” Sometimes it was a piece of writing, sometimes it was a guided drawing, sometimes it was a dramatic reenactment.

But after a couple of years of this, I realized that it was more likely to be a piece of writing, and less likely to be a drawing, because that’s just where my greatest area of comfort was. I tended to think of ideas for writing. And didn’t tend to think of ideas for drawings.

Now, it’s great when the story content aligns beautifully with the skill-building. That’s the true art of teaching. And the stories are truly meaningful. That imaginative content is the soul food that nourishes the students at their unique stage of development. Stories feed the imagination, cultivate feeling, and give children living pictures that stay with them long after they have forgotten individual facts.

But they’re not the whole story (hehe). Our students need to practice writing. They need to build artistic skills. They need experience creating content visually. And they love creating drama together.

Stories are not the destination.

They are the medium through which we develop capacities.

That shift has completely changed the way I plan a main lesson block.

Stories Are the Vehicle, Not the Goal

When planning a block, I still recommend starting with the imaginative content. Ask yourself what stories, biographies, demonstrations, or experiences will speak most deeply to the children at this particular age.

But keep your list of skills and benchmarks right next to you.

Once you know the stories, ask a second set of questions.

• What skills are we developing?

• What capacities need intentional practice over these four or six weeks?

• What writing will they do?

• What reading will they do?

• What artistic skills will they practice?

• What habits of observation, reasoning, discussion, or craftsmanship need strengthening?

Those questions deserve just as much attention as the stories themselves.

And as you build your plan for the year, have a second column on your curriculum chart. Right next to the “Imaginative Content,” there should be a column that says, “Skill Building Content.”

Professional Planning Is an Act of Care

The thing is, we Waldorf teachers recognize that our very human work with our students is so much more powerful than the administrative work of building a spreadsheet or even planning out a harmonious year.

We know that when we rely on our ability to connect with students and build relationship, magical things happen. I think that this perspective has held Waldorf teachers back from cultivating practices that demonstrate our professionalism.

And it’s true. If you don’t have that human relationship in place, you’re not really doing it right. (Okay, I’m not really one to say that there’s a right and wrong way to do this job, but I do kinda think human relationship is pretty essential to the equation.)

So, I’m not here to say that a brilliant curriculum chart or spreadsheet (gasp!) can take the place of that human work. But, get this, they’re not at odds with each other. You can have a lovely human connection with every single one of your students, and still have a fully planned year that considers both imaginative content and academic skills.

Really, it’s part of our responsibility as professionals. Being able to demonstrate all of the wisdom that goes into our lesson planning is just as important.

So, yes, the stories feed the children’s inner lives. But our planning ensures that those stories are doing meaningful educational work.

When we map out the writing, the reading, the projects, the artistic work, the practical experiences, and the field trips before beginning teaching, we’re not making the block less alive.

We’re making sure every element supports the growth we hope to cultivate.

Instead of wondering whether we’ve covered enough descriptive writing, observation, geometry, map work, or note-taking, we can know that these opportunities have been woven into the block.

The imagination gives life to the work.

The planning gives it direction.

We need both.

My Planning Process

That’s why my block planning document doesn’t stop with imaginative content.

It also includes dedicated space for:

• Skills content and main lesson book work

• Projects and readers

• Field trips and special experiences

Those aren’t separate from the stories.

They’re the way the stories become education.

When all of those pieces are planned together, the block becomes more than a beautiful collection of lessons. It becomes an intentional developmental journey. And we fully express the art of teaching.

For paid subscribers

Today’s paid continuation includes the two planning documents I use every time I prepare a main lesson block:

• My Main Lesson Block Planning Template

• My Block Review Form, which I complete after teaching each block to guide the students through a review process.

The more I teach, the more convinced I become that great teaching isn’t just about inspiration. It’s about returning, year after year, to the cycle of plan, teach, reflect, and refine. These are the tools that help me do exactly that.

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I mean, it’s great to have a lot of respect for your students, but that perspective sometimes got in the way of my authority.

Also, I wanted to build relationships, create a warm classroom, and earn their trust. I wanted to be the kind of teacher children enjoyed being around. And having all of these priorities made authority difficult.

The problem was that I confused warmth with authority, as though I had to choose one or the other.

And my own “question authority” perspective didn’t help matters any. I’d always been the kind of person who had little tolerance for false hierarchies and institutions that seemed to unnecessarily create structures to exert control over others. And I’m not the only one. “Question Authority” has become one of our culture’s values. We celebrate leaders who are collaborative, workplaces with flat hierarchies, and parents who involve children in family decisions. Authority often sounds like an outdated idea—something rigid or controlling, that we’ve worked hard to move beyond.

So it’s no surprise that new teachers (including me!) sometimes hesitate to fully inhabit it.

Over time, though, I realized that what children need from the adults in their lives isn’t less authority. When it comes to helping children grow, there are real reasons why parents and teachers use their authority to exert control and make decisions on behalf of children. We’re not demanding obedience just for the sake of obedience. Healthy authority looks different. And it grows out of responsibility.

As teachers, we spend years studying child development. We observe children. We learn how they grow, what they need, and what nourishes them at different stages of childhood. We commit ourselves to making decisions based on those needs rather than on convenience or popularity.

That responsibility changes the relationship. And it gives us the right (nay, responsibility) to lead with authority.

I’m not making decisions on a whim, or because something is convenient for me. I’m making decisions because, in this moment, it is my responsibility to hold the whole picture while the children are still learning to see it.

The words authority and author share the same Latin root. Children are gradually becoming the authors of their own lives. Our work isn’t to write the story for them forever. Our work is to hold the pen until they’re ready. Little by little, year after year, we hand it back.

That doesn’t happen by pretending a seven-year-old has the same perspective as an adult. It doesn’t happen by turning every classroom decision into a negotiation.

Instead, it happens because a child spends years experiencing what healthy authority feels like. As we make decisions out of a sense for their health and well-being, the child gradually learns what it feels like to delay gratification, make difficult choices, and do hard things—even though they really don’t want to.

Knowing what that feels like means that when the time comes later and they face their own difficult decisions, they’re prepared to make them. They learn that they can hold their own boundaries, without it feeling harsh or like self-sacrifice.

They learn that those difficult decisions, which are made with their own well-being in mind, are an expression of self-love.

And then, maybe someday, they’ll realize (consciously, at least) that our boundaries were an expression of love, too. (Someday. 😊)

One of the benefits of a paid subscription is digging deeper into ideas like this one. Below, I’d like to explore what healthy authority actually looks like in the classroom, why new teachers so often struggle with it, and why one of the most reassuring moments in teaching is also one of the hardest to explain.

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A note for paid subscribers: After the main article, I'll be sharing a few additional mentoring reflections and practical planning questions. I'll see you at the end!

I get it. I’ve totally been there. Every summer there comes a point when you start looking around and thinking, Okay...I should probably get started.

You’ve had a few weeks to sleep in, spend time in the garden, travel a little, and frankly enjoy NOT having to think about tomorrow’s lesson or the adorable little angels in your class. And then, somewhere in the back of your mind, the next school year begins to tap you on the shoulder.

I always think summer planning is a balancing act. We need the rest—I mean that is a true fact! And though there have been some years when the appeal of a fresh start is so captivating I buy my new planner before school gets out, I don’t think this is necessarily the best approach. I don’t think we should rush into planning the moment school gets out.

But at the same time, September will feel SO much better if we’ve taken a little time during the summer to prepare thoughtfully.

So when you do finally sit down and get to work, the temptation, of course, is to dive straight into lesson plans. Fill that planner and sort out what exactly you’ll be teaching. That daily two-hour main lesson won’t fill itself!

I’ve done it myself more times than I can count.

I sit down with the curriculum books, start outlining the first block, and dive headlong into Botany, Hebrew Legends, or Form Drawing. Inevitably, I realize at some point that I can’t really plan the individual block, without developing picture of the whole year. Unfortunately, this often happens after two weeks of puttering around with resources and not really getting anywhere.

Over the years I’ve found that I have a much better experience if I slow down a little and begin somewhere else.

Here are the four places I always recommend starting.

1. Gather your planning supplies

I’m not talking about ordering classroom supplies.

I’m talking about your supplies.

The sketchbook you love writing in. The pens that make you want to sit down and work. A fresh planner. Maybe a new notebook. Whatever makes the planning process feel inviting. (And if you want some suggestions, check out my favorites.)

This might sound like procrastination, but really, it’s not.

There’s something about creating a beautiful workspace that makes planning feel less like another task on the to-do list and more like a creative project you’re looking forward to. And if you think about it, this is why we spend so much time beautifying our classrooms for our students. Don’t we deserve the same care and attention?

For me, that’s always the first little step. Before I ask myself to do the hard thinking, I create a space that makes me want to come back tomorrow.

(And, to be honest, this is my secret hack for making my Sunday planning more enjoyable, too. My favorite fountain pen only gets used in my lesson planner. It’s like the spoonful of sugar!)

2. Build a picture of the child

We know that Waldorf education is all about the development of the child. How many hours in our teacher training were dedicated to understanding human development? A lot!

And we may think that we’ve got all that child development understanding internalized, but I’ve been at this for 20 years, and I still give myself a little refresher every summer. Have you ever found yourself completely surprised and maybe even a little flummoxed by student behavior that you later realized, “Oh yeah, that’s classic 2nd grade!”

You could’ve saved yourself the emotional energy by brushing up on child development ahead of time. Then, when they ask tons of questions about tiny details, or start crying at drop-off again, or come to you to settle arguments after every recess, you’ll nod and smile thinking, “Aha, I knew this was coming!”

Before I think very much about what I’m teaching, I want to spend time thinking about who I’m teaching.

What is happening developmentally at this age?

What capacities are emerging?

What questions is this stage of childhood asking?

I like to return to books like School as a Journey, the big yellow curriculum guide, and Steiner’s lectures. But I also reflect on the children themselves.

If I’m returning to teach the same group I taught last year, I’ve found it helpful to spend some time journaling about a few individual students who feel pretty representative of what’s going on in the class as a whole. What changed this spring? What surprised me? What social shifts did I notice? Sometimes the end of the school year gives us a glimpse of who they’ll become in the fall.

For me, that’s the real foundation of planning.

3. Envision the rhythm of the year

Only after I’ve spent time thinking about the children do I begin thinking about the year itself.

Not the daily plans, or even the individual blocks.

Just the shape of the year.

I like to move month by month and think about the seasons, festivals, school events, field trips, concerts, holidays, and the natural breathing rhythm of the year.

Once that larger picture starts to emerge, placing the blocks becomes much easier. Instead of fitting everything into the calendar wherever it happens to fit, the curriculum begins to feel like it belongs exactly where it is.

Some blocks fit best in the fall or spring, when the weather is nice and there’s room for an outbreath. Others are focused and inward, and are actually hard to do at this time of year. Thinking through the year in this way will help make sure the placement of your blocks of study is optimized for the yearly rhythm.

4. Gather resources—not lesson plans

Okay, this one might surprise you (considering I actually sell curriculum resources for teachers), but truly, there is no replacement for the curiosity and enthusiasm that arises when you do your own research.

Don’t get me wrong, there is a time and place for packaged curriculum resources, lesson plans, and ideas from other teachers. I create those resources myself because I know how helpful they can be.

But at the beginning of summer, it’s worth spending some time with the primary material first. Read the history. Watch the documentary. Find the biography. Go to the library.

Become interested in the subject yourself.

This experience of discovery, and the enthusiasm and excitement it can create, is what we try to awaken in our students every day. Don’t we deserve the same experience? Don’t just go find the information. Get curious! I’ll never forget the first time I taught the 6th grade Rocks and Minerals block. I was utterly fascinated as I prepared the content. Who knew that ROCKS could be so interesting!

When we discover something ourselves, our teaching becomes more alive. We aren’t simply passing along someone else’s understanding—we’re sharing our own enthusiasm.

That’s a very different experience for us, and for our students.

These four steps won’t produce a finished lesson plan.

They won’t fill your planner.

But they will give you something much more valuable: a strong foundation.

When the time comes to sit down and write your blocks, you’ll know the children more deeply, you’ll have a clearer picture of the year, and you’ll be planning from understanding instead of from urgency.

If you’d like to hear me talk through these ideas in a little more detail, this week’s podcast episode explores each of these four starting points and the reasoning behind them. And if you’re looking for a more guided approach to summer planning, that’s exactly why I created Summer Vision—a course to help teachers enjoy both the rest of summer and the satisfaction of feeling genuinely prepared for the year ahead.

A little deeper...

Below, I’m sharing some of the things that don’t fit neatly into a podcast episode—the planning mistakes I’ve made, the questions I return to every summer, and a few mentoring reflections from more than twenty years in the classroom.

Paid subscribers can continue reading below, and if you’re a free subscriber, I’d love to have you join us.

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The beeswax crayons.
The thick, textured paper.
The glowing, luminescent watercolors.

There’s a feeling—when you walk into a Waldorf classroom—that everything has been chosen with care.

And then you become the teacher responsible for ordering those materials… and suddenly you’re looking at your classroom budget a little more closely.

Because the reality is: we can’t spend endlessly on supplies. So the question becomes:

What is actually worth investing in—and where can we be more practical?

Over the years, I’ve had to answer that question again and again in my own classroom. Some things are absolutely worth the cost. Others… not as much. Here are my opinions on what’s worth the money and what you can skip. (And I’d LOVE to hear your hot takes on this topic. What are you happy to spend money on for your classroom?)

And if you’re looking for the full list of what I use across Grades 1–8, I’ve put that together for paid subscribers. Scroll down to find the download button.

First, a Shift in Thinking

There’s a common assumption that because our students are beginners, high-quality materials will be wasted on them. But I’ve found the opposite to be true. It’s because they are beginners that they need every advantage to create art that they’re satisfied with.

When the materials aren’t up to the task, children can’t create the effects they’re looking for, no matter how much guidance you give them. They end up working harder just to get something on the page. And over time, they can become reluctant to do the work. If, over and over again, they try to create beautiful results and, despite their best efforts, they’re disappointed, there’s only so long their will can persevere.

But when materials are responsive and students can make them do what they want, their effort becomes visible, their confidence grows, and the whole experience becomes a positive exercise in creating a vision and following it through to completion.

So yes—we should be thoughtful about spending. But we also shouldn’t underestimate how much the right materials matter.

And, we can recognize that some things are worth spending on, while for others, cheap substitutes are just fine.

✨ What’s Worth Spending On

1. Colored Pencils

If you ask me, this is one of the clearest places to invest. And spending more in the short term will actually save you money in the long-run. The difference in pigment quality between inexpensive and high-quality colored pencils is enormous. Better pencils:

• lay down color more smoothly

• show up more vividly

• last significantly longer

And here’s the key tip:

👉 Don’t buy a full set for every child.

Instead, buy single-color boxes.

Why?

• Some colors get used constantly (blues, reds, greens) and you’ll want to replace them more frequently. (Have you ever ordered a full set for each child and wondered what to do when someone loses their yellow?)

• You teach your students to take care of their pencils because these sets can last them multiple years.

I often tell the story of a student in my first class who loved his Lyra Super Ferbys so much that he cared for them and made them last right through 8th grade (even though we’d moved on to using skinny pencils by then). Those pencils can last when they’re treated right. More economical and less wasteful.

2. Crayons

Here’s another category worth spending on. Not just for the pigment and the end result, but also for the daily-use experience. Beeswax crayons offer something that standard crayons simply don’t:

• warmth and responsiveness

• a sensory experience that makes drawing with them a dream

I swear there’s something magical about beeswax crayons. The power of that sensory experience, and the impact it has on the child’s well-being, is visible in the completed work. Drawings done with beeswax crayons just glow right off the page.

3. Paper

This is the one that often gets overlooked. Printer paper doesn’t hold up. It’s fine for practice work, but for anything where the children are going to be working their art, you need the good stuff. You want paper that will allow them to

• layer on the pigment

• erase smudge marks

• spend time and effort on their work

Printer paper is so thin, it bears the marks of the students’ effort right away. After even five minutes, you can see that printer paper shows smudges from grubby hands or gets creased and bent even in the process of handing it out. And after a little more time it tears, pills, or gives out entirely.

High-quality paper:

• holds the work

• allows for revision

• supports persistence

Isn’t that what we want our students to be practicing? Stick with the work. Continue the effort until you’re satisfied with the result.

🌿 Where You Can Be More Practical

But not everything needs to come from a specialty supplier. There are places where you can save—without sacrificing the experience.

1. Graphite Pencils

This is where you have to find the middle ground.

You don’t need the most expensive pencils. The Lyra triangular ones can be helpful to train your students’ grip, but even by 2nd grade we had moved on from those specialty pencils.

But here’s the thing. You also can’t go too cheap. Because, let me tell you, not all yellow pencils are made the same. Those bulk boxes of ultra-cheap pencils?

• they break easily

• they splinter when you try to sharpen them

• often the graphite is broken inside the pencil

I’ve seen students stand at the trash can with their pencil sharpener and keep working at getting a sharp point until they’re down to a stub. They’re just not worth it.

That’s why I love Ticonderogas. They’re not expensive, but they’re not bargain basement. They’re well-made, consistent, and they hold up over time.

2. Watercolors

There are more options now than there used to be.

The paints from Mercurius are beautiful—but they’re not the only choice.

Especially as students get older, there’s value in:

• having a wider range of colors

• experimenting with different techniques

• painting outside the traditional wet-on-wet approach

At that stage, flexibility can matter more than strict adherence to one brand. You can find tubes of lovely watercolor paint at Dick Blick that are more affordable than the Mercurius bottles. And you can also find watercolor palettes that allow flexibility with painting. Or one year I even bought sets of watercolor pastels. Those were fantastic for controlling the pigment and painting on the go. We even sometimes added watercolor to our main lesson pages.

3. Pens

This is an area where I’ve really shifted over time. There are now affordable refillable fountain pens and well-made disposable fountain pens, that are way better than the Greenfield one that Mercurius has sold for (at least) 20 years.

I’ve even used disposable fountain pens as a kind of testing ground. If a student comes back with an empty pen—fully used, not lost—they’ve shown they’re ready for the more expensive option. Caring for a fountain pen isn’t easy and it’s a great way to teach your students to care for their supplies.

🌿 Thinking Ahead to Next Year

This is the time of year when these decisions begin.

Many suppliers (including Mercurius) ask for bulk orders to be submitted in the spring.

So even now, it’s worth asking:

• What did we go through quickly this year?

• What didn’t hold up?

• What actually supported the children’s work?

Because the goal isn’t just to restock.

It’s to choose intentionally. Because in the end, this isn’t really about supplies.

It’s about:

• what we place in the child’s hands

• what kind of experience we’re creating

• where we choose to invest our attention—and our resources

We want to feel good about the experience we’re creating for them. Some things are worth it. Some things aren’t. And learning to tell the difference is part of the craft of teaching.

Want the full list of my favorite supplies for each grade?

I’ve put together my full Grades 1–8 Art Supply List, including:

• exactly what I order

• how I organize materials across the grades

• and what I’ve refined over time

Paid subscribers can scroll down to hit the link and download the list.

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If you’re not going to review it, you might as well have never done it.

That has stayed with me.

Because in a Waldorf classroom, the story often gets the spotlight—and rightly so. It brings the content to life. It creates the images. It gives the children something to hold onto.

But it is in the review that the learning actually t…

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A child leans back slightly.
Their eyes soften.
Their gaze drifts—not in distraction, but somewhere inward.

From the outside, it can look like they’ve ch…

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Here’s what it is—fill a tote with analog activities you can reach for whenever you’re tempted to pick up your phone. Notebooks, dice, knitting projects, playing cards, books—you get the idea.

And then, because social media knows what it’s doi…

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As I often do, I pulled out my lesson book from last time around and took a look through the stories I told and the content we covered. Usually, when I do this, I reflect fondly on those stories, they resonate, and I decide to do something pretty similar again.

I was pretty sure I was going to do the same this time, but in class today, I told the story of the Haudenosaunee (Iroquois) nation, and though it went over just fine, and it’s meaningful for the students to learn about these people, it didn’t quite hit.

Later in the day we had a little extra time, so while they were working on their North America maps, I read aloud from a John Muir biography book I have (which is great, by the way). When I read Muir’s description of Yosemite, it was so compelling I had a thought and just spoke it out loud.

“Maybe during our North American Geography block we should just learn about all of the national parks and beautiful places across the country.”

The students responded—YES! Someone even suggested, “We could do a national park project instead of a state report.”

I think we’ll stick with the state report—that’s already in the works—but I am excited to make my class presentations about the national parks and beautiful places. I’m thinking I’ll start with the Florida Everglades. I’ve always wanted to learn more about that place!

It makes me grateful that we have the freedom to choose content that resonates, knowing that any of it can provide the medium for the skill-building practice we do in class every day.

And just because I can’t help but share something. . . Paid members can scroll down and hit the button to download my fifth-grade state report assignment. I’ll keep you posted about how that progresses.

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There’s a lot that goes into preparing for this transition, and though the to-do list is long, I’ve learned that the time I invest pays off. Students feel a real sense of accomplishment when they see their work from one block gathered up and completed before moving forward.

On Friday last week, we had a big work session. I listed all the main lesson pages on the chalkboard and students raised their hands if they still had work to do to complete each page. We ended up with a list of pages and tally marks and throughout the working period the students came up and erased tallies as they finished things up. so satisfying!

The Block Review Form

One of the ways I help bring closure is with my block review form, which I started using back in fourth grade. It gives me a chance to summarize the content of the block for families, while also providing space for my own reflections and comments on each student’s work. Students do their own reflection, noticing what they like about their work and identifying something they want to improve next block. Parents then add their own comments after they’ve come into the classroom to review their child’s main lesson book. It’s a confidence-inspiring practice that ties together teacher, student, and parent perspectives in a very tangible way.

(Paid subscribers—scroll to the bottom of this post to download the template I use for my block reviews.)

My Block Switch Weekend To-Do List

• Reviewing student work: I gather main lesson books, write comments, and prepare the block review forms. I was lucky enough to get this done on Friday before leaving school. I was glad to avoid lugging a stack of books home!

• A new chalkboard drawing: The chalkboard becomes a canvas that sets the tone for the new block. Often, I’ll go in on Sunday to complete this drawing, but I’ve been increasingly trying to avoid going to school on the weekend. (There’s still plenty of work that happens on the weekend, but doing it from the comfort of home is one of my self-care strategies for the year.) As I write this (Sunday afternoon), I’m planning on going in early on Monday to beautify the chalkboard.

• Planning the new content: I map out the block almost day by day. While I leave room for flexibility, I have a pretty good idea about what stories I’ll tell when and what our review activities will be. It helps that I have a pretty solid routine about when we do different review activities. (See this post for more information about that.)

• Planning skills work: I decide which skills will accompany the block—language arts or math, grammar or writing—so that skill practice stays balanced and intentional.

• Preparing main lesson books: Nothing says fresh start like opening up a crisp, new book.

• Seating chart refresh: I usually change seats every two blocks, so I’m not doing that this time. I think every 6-8 weeks is good timing for a new seating arrangement.

• Parent communication: I write a robust parent email, giving a glimpse of what’s ahead and reminding families to come in and review their child’s work from the previous one.

• Special projects and festivals: I look ahead for any activities or celebrations that will shape the block experience.

This weekend I’ve been sketching out plans for our Botany block, reviewing resources. I feel lucky that it wasn’t so long ago that I taught this block the last time, but there’s still a ton to do.

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They were right—making main lesson pages is fun. And it’s a great excuse for pursuing an artistic practice—even for those of us who don’t feel terribly artistically inclined.

Here are the supplies I’m using—and how I’ve got my students set up to do the work.

Drawing

Crayons

In general, I don’t use crayons for main lesson book work in fifth grade. We sometimes use them when we’re doing a full-page drawing and we want to get some color on the page to get things going.

But because we don’t use them very much, I did not purchase new crayons for my students. We happened to have a box of old block crayons and we repurposed some that they had in their crayon rolls from last year, and those are working pretty well.

I put these block crayons in the top flap of their pencil case and they fit perfectly. I didn’t give them stick crayons at all. Pencils work just fine.

If you don’t have a bunch of old block crayons laying around, you might consider these Filia oil crayons. They’re nice because they actually erase, so you can get negative space pretty well, but they’re not very pigmented. You have to work really hard to get rich color, and even with all that work, they’re not very vibrant.

If you’ve got a hefty budget or just a small number of students to purchase for, you might also consider these watercolor crayons from Caran d’Ache. I bought them for my students as a treat/splurge a number of years ago and they’ve been my favorite ever since. They’re best to use on watercolor paper (a little trickier on main lesson paper) but they’re incredibly vibrant and after you draw with them you can use a water brush to blend and get a lovely watercolor effect.

If your students love painting and are ready to incorporate a little more form and detail into their work, these crayons are the perfect thing. Pricey, but so lovely.

Pencils

I’ve spoken before about my love for Lyra Superferbys. Or the Mercurius “Art Makes Sense” dupe, which is just as good, if not better, if you ask me. I prefer the unlaquered triangular pencils, and I order single color boxes from Mercurius, rather than individual sets for each student. This way, I get to choose the colors (in fifth grade, we have almost all of them), and we can replace the colors that get used most as needed.

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Maybe a stream-of-consciousness recap (with at least one solid takeaway tip)?

So, fifth grade started on Wednesday. It somehow feels significant that our classroom is both the first and last Cedarwood classroom I taught in. This summ…

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One of their tools that I love is Interactive Learning St…

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As you may know, I’ve been happily plugging away with marketing and communications for my favorite little Waldorf school for the past year or so. It’s been fun and rewarding to connect …

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Throughout my teaching years, I tried all kinds of systems: color-coded binders, beautifully labeled folders, ambitious to-do lists. But what actually helped me stay grounded and ahead of the curve wasn’t a fancy tool—it was a mindset. I created monthly, weekly, and daily planning rhythms that kept me connected to my students, my curriculum, and myself.

Here’s how I approached it:

Monthly: Step Back and See the Big Picture

Each month, I took time to look ahead at what was coming. This is when I planned out the block and paid attention to other events and activities that were happening. Were there any festivals or events to prepare for? How was the overall arc of the year unfolding?

This was when I prepared my block plan document (paid subscribers, scroll to the bottom of this post to download my editable template). I didn’t always follow it to the letter, but having that big-picture view mapped out gave me a framework—and something to adjust when needed.

Monthly planning was also a good moment to check in on things like parent conferences, report writing, or school-wide events. I’d make sure those bigger tasks had space on the calendar before they snuck up on me.

Weekly: Map the Terrain

Once a week—usually on Sunday mornings with a fresh cup of coffee—I carved out time to get more specific. I’d check where we were in the block, what we had covered, and what was happening in the next week.

This was my chance to sketch out lessons, make supply lists, plan review activities, plan practice periods, and create my weekly parent communication. Sometimes I even prepped review games and drawings for the week ahead (a little extra effort here often paid off!).

Weekly planning gave me the breathing room to feel prepared without feeling locked in.

Daily: Just Enough to Feel Ready

Each evening (or sometimes in the wee hours of the next day), I’d check my notes and prep my lesson. Because I had things mostly roughed out in my weekly prep, this usually just meant preparing the new content for the day. Sometimes I had to adjust things based on how the previous day’s lesson went; other days I just had to gather supplies or reread a story.

I didn’t always have long afternoons for prep (who does?) and I tried to minimize my daily prep as much as possible, but even ten minutes of quiet reflection made a difference. It was enough to keep the flow going and to show up feeling just a little more ready.

Want My Block Plan Template?

If you're a paid subscriber, scroll down to the bottom of this post to download my editable block plan template. It’s the same one I used year after year, and it’s a great starting point for guiding your own monthly planning rhythm.

And if you’re looking to create a more intentional planning flow for the whole year…

Summer Vision Closes Sunday

Summer Vision is my self-paced summer planning course for Waldorf teachers—and registration closes this Sunday. This course walks you through a simple, grounded process to help you map out your year from a place of clarity and purpose.

If you want to start the school year feeling calm, centered, and prepared, click here to learn more and register before it closes.

🧡 Meredith
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