Theories of Motion

The Greek “dunamis,” from which we get words like “dynamic,” can be read or translated several different ways, and each interpretation brings with it a world-view. At one end, we can translate it as the physical property of “potentiality.” This ignores, however, much of what Aristotle or another Greek would have meant by the word. They would have tied our material interpretation to other, metaphysical and immaterial meanings, ultimately, perhaps, including a concept of “divine power” and the force of a “daimon,” a deity inferior to the highest deity or deities.

If we ask today why a ball that we throw through the air continues to move after it has left our hand, we discuss mass, force, acceleration, momentum, and gravity, each of which can be measured, if not (yet) thoroughly understood.

But the dunamis, because it is immaterial, cannot be measured. Hence, we have learned over the past centuries to redefine it, to shape it into a concept (potential energy) that can be measured, and to ignore other meanings that it may have.

Further, ignoring these other meanings, relegating them to the qualitative sphere that we have gradually come to see as derivative of a more quantitative engagement with the world, we have come to disbelieve in their existence, to see their existence as superstition.

But this disbelief consists of a series of assumptions that put us in an illogical, if apparently reasonable, position. We may say that we have no need of an immaterial concept of the dunamis, that we find it extraneous to what we want to know and do, but we simply cannot pass judgment on its existence or non-existence. Without quite acknowledging it, we have allowed theory to become fact.

We throw a ball and it travels through the air. The ball weighs, say, 5.25 ounces and has a circumference of 9.25 inches. It’s covered in white horsehide and stitched with thick red threads. It spins and generates air pressure differentials that cause its trajectory to curve. The “force of gravity” (which we can measure but cannot yet comprehend or explain) draws it and the earth together. It drops past the batter’s knees, a called strike three. And there may—or may not—be a lower deity, a daimon, one of the dunamoi, guiding it along its way. We just don’t know.

Am I actually suggesting that I believe in immaterial beings of motion? I don’t believe but I also don’t disbelieve in them. But I acknowledge that my belief in physics does not contradict a belief in a qualitative understanding of motion and even of beings of motion, the dunamoi.

Learning to Think in High School

We learn with more than just our heads. Lots of us, not just those in Waldorf schools, agree with this.

In 1956 (and after), to take a prime example, Benjamin Bloom described a taxonomy or hierarchical organization of learning within a threefold context of cognition (thinking), affect (feeling), and psychomotor behavior (will). Based on continuing research, his taxonomy has since been modified and now includes these six levels, from the highest to the most basic: creating, evaluating, analyzing, applying, understanding, and remembering.

Based on the work of John Gardner at the Garden City Waldorf School in the 1950s and 1960s and Douglas Gerwin since then, Waldorf schools approach each grade of high school differently in terms of assignments, expectations, and the development of thinking.

Looking over their work recently in preparation for a faculty meeting, it occurred to me that John Gardner almost certainly took Bloom’s work and compressed it—six levels sandwiched into four years of high school. And it makes sense to do this. Bloom’s work was based on higher education, on students who had largely passed the developmental stage of adolescence. For those teaching adolescents, a gradual introduction to more sophisticated thinking makes sense.

Interestingly, Gardner had the insight to move the synthesis required of creativity to the head of the list before a reassessment of Bloom’s research in the 1980s that did the same thing—earlier, “evaluating” was higher than “creativity.”

Our high school Core Teachers study education at each of our faculty meetings, and use the concepts outlined below in creating assignments in literature, history, science, and other subjects based on this understanding of thinking, learning, and mastery.

Ninth graders focus on accurate observation and description.
• Key words appropriate for 9th grade assignments include these: Observe, describe, note, summarize, re-tell, sequence, depict, illustrate, name, report, specify, and state.
• Questions for 9th graders might begin: What…?

Tenth graders focus on objective comparison.
• Key words for 10th grade assignments include these: Compare, contrast, difference, similarity, equation, equivalence, inequality, analogy, affinity, relationship, balance, weigh, connect, correlate, match, and proportion.
• Questions for 10th graders might begin: How…?

Eleventh graders focus on metamorphosis or transformation (building up) and analysis of a whole into parts (taking apart).
• Key words for 11th grade assignments include these: Analyze, abstract, theory, growth, transformation, metamorphosis, change, interpret (parts), make-up, essay, dissect, test, influence, involve, estimate, scrutinize, divide, and cause (and effect).
• Questions for 11th graders might begin: Why…?

Twelfth grade aims at individual synthesis; that is, forming an argument using the methods of grades 9-11 to present a coherent point of view that represents a student’s own view.
• Key words for 12th grade assignments include these: Synthesis, meaning, interpretation (whole), judgment, contemplation, reflection, integrate, assemble, combine, unite, unify.
• Questions for 12th graders might begin: Who…? (in the sense of a student’s relationship to the material; and, ultimately, who am I?)