As a tech executive, I’m no stranger to the dangers of excessive screen time, especially for children. So, when I discovered Waldorf education during the pandemic, I thought I had found an ideal solution. The school promised a wholesome, nature-focused environment free from the digital distractions that dominate modern life. I was flowing in a cultural movement with fellow tech execs who were sending their own kids to Waldorf in droves.
However, my experience revealed a far more troubling reality: beneath the idyllic surface lies a deeply religious, highly controlled culture that contradicts its marketing as an innovative and progressive educational model. My desire in writing this article is to warn other prospective parents on the dangers of Waldorf, so they can make more informed choices for their family.
The Allure of the Screen-Free Promise
During COVID, like many parents, I sought an educational environment that emphasized outdoor play, creativity, and a break from the screen-heavy habits of remote learning. Waldorf’s marketing spoke directly to those concerns. Phrases like “teaching to the whole child” and “natural childhood” resonated deeply, and the aesthetic of children joyfully exploring nature seemed like the perfect antidote to Silicon Valley’s high-tech lifestyle.
As a former Googler and someone who understands the complexities of technology, I appreciated the idea of an education that focused on human connection and creativity over screens and gadgets. But what I failed to see was that the school’s anti-technology stance was not simply a pedagogical choice—it was rooted in the esoteric spiritual beliefs of Rudolf Steiner, the founder of Waldorf education.
Anthroposophy: Waldorf’s Hidden Ideology
At the core of Waldorf education is Steiner’s philosophy of anthroposophy, a spiritual movement with roots in Theosophy and Christian mysticism. While the school did not openly promote religious doctrine during the admissions process, I began to see its influence in almost every aspect of the curriculum.
Waldorf’s emphasis on storytelling, seasonal celebrations, and imaginative play seemed innocent at first, but the undertones of Christian esotericism soon became apparent. My daughter came home singing songs about heaven and angels, and my son casually mentioned concepts like reincarnation and choosing his parents before birth—ideas that were never part of our home’s conversations or our worldview.
One particularly shocking moment came during an end-of-year ceremony, where my daughter participated in a reenactment of descending from heaven, choosing her parents, and being welcomed by angels. This wasn’t a whimsical celebration; it was a direct enactment of Steiner’s belief in reincarnation and spiritual hierarchy. As someone who does not practice organized religion, I was blindsided by the explicit religiosity of the event.
Even worse: they specifically never mention to parents or to the kids that they are being taught from Steiner’s own belief system. If you ask about this as a parent, they tell you that “anthroposophy never enters the classroom” and “we are working to make our curriculum less Eurocentric”, presumably to create some distance (or at least confusion) between Waldorf and anthroposophy. Read anything of Steiner’s writings though, and you’ll find that his belief system impacts every aspect of life at the school: from the songs, to the fairy tails, to the school plays. So while it is true that “Anthroposophy” is never mentioned, it’s esoteric and sometimes just plain wrong beliefs are taught in the classroom. To me, this seems even worse than if they just admitted to their beliefs and taught from that place. And in fact, one of their top officials was fired in the 90’s for proposing that very thing.
Secrecy from Parents
One of the most concerning aspects of Waldorf education is this lack of transparency. Unlike public school, parents are rarely invited into classrooms, and the curriculum is often presented in vague terms. This made it difficult to fully understand what my children were being taught on a day-to-day basis.
Walking past a second-grade classroom one day, I overheard students singing songs about God and heaven. This was a teacher-led exercise, and they were not neutral or cultural references being made; the song being sung was unmistakably reflective of a Christian-style spiritual worldview. Similarly, the school’s “harvest festivals” and seasonal celebrations, while outwardly charming, carried a clear Christian undertone that felt out of place for a non-religious family like ours.
Perhaps in an attempt to attempt to cover up this hidden belief system being taught to the children, Marin Waldorf (and perhaps other Waldorf schools as well) practices a form of performative diversity, often interjecting symbols other religious cultural artifacts into their teachings. Your children might come home singing a Jewish song, or you might attend a Chinese New Year performance, for instance. Presumably this allows them to tell prospective parents that their teachings are inclusive and “worldly”, while maintaining their Anthroposophical worldview.
A Controlled Environment Behind Closed Doors
And while the advertising speaks to creativity and expression, we found the truth was exactly the opposite. Teachers kept a very tight grip on the actions and expressions of our children. This wasn’t your typical free-spirited preschool or kindergarten environment. For instance, children are not allowed to wear letters on their clothing or anything with “characters” (like Disney). A child dressed that way would be reprimanded and told to change or turn their shirt inside out in front of their peers. My normally even-keeled daughter had a panic attack one morning when she discovered the sweater she brought to school had letters on it, and then refused to wear it despite the cold. This does not seem like normal behavior for a child who feels safe to be herself at school.
These “expectations” extended into family life as well – parent newsletters and gatherings became a sort of normative counter-culture with specific and often unspoken expectations. Wooden toys and hand-made clothes won you bonus points; admitting to any technology use at home, not so much.
This opacity extended to academic progress as well. By the time we left Waldorf, my eight-year-old daughter could not read, and my six-year-old son had not been introduced to basic math concepts nor letters. Instead, their days were filled with activities like watercolor painting, knitting, storytelling, and movement exercises, all of which, I later learned, were designed to align with Steiner’s mystical view of child development. We were even assured that activities like knitting indirectly taught kids how to read.
How Techies Fall into the Waldorf Trap
I now see that I, like many of my peers in the tech industry, fell into what I call the “Waldorf trap.” We are drawn to the school’s rejection of the very technology we create, viewing it as a form of balance or even penance. We see the dangers of technology in our own lives and fear our children falling for the same fate – maybe if we enroll our children in an anti-technology school, they can be “children a little longer” (a line I heard a lot there).
Many fellow parents at the Marin Waldorf school would pay lip service to supporting the school’s technology restrictions, while simultaneously (and secretly!) allowing their kids access to iPads and hours of TV at home. It’s almost as if the school a virtue signal of protecting their kids from the “dangers of technology”, without actually doing any of the work at home to protect their kids.
The language used in Waldorf marketing—“whole child education” and “nature-based learning” — is carefully crafted to appeal to progressive, highly-educated and tech-fearful parents. But these buzzwords obscure the reality that Waldorf is not simply an alternative pedagogy about technology; it is an ideological system with a rigid framework that often undermines critical thinking and academic rigor.
Undoing the Damage
After two years in Waldorf education, I made the difficult decision to pull my children out of the school. It wasn’t just the lack of academic progress that concerned me; it was the realization that my kids were being indoctrinated into a belief system I fundamentally disagreed with.
The transition has not been easy. We’ve had to work to undo some of the religious teachings they absorbed, particularly around the concepts of heaven, god, hell, and angels. These ideas, while presented as magical and harmless, left a lasting impression on their young, impressionable minds. There is something quite sinister in my mind of a teacher using their position of power to proselytize a religious ideology.
What Parents Should Know
For parents considering Waldorf education, my advice is simple: do your homework and consider your priorities. Maybe Waldorf’s secret spiritual / religious ideology is ok with you or lines up with your own belief system. If so, that’s wonderful. Just know what you are buying your kids into.
Not sure? Look beyond the glossy brochures and charming campus tours. Ask direct questions about the curriculum, the role of Steiner’s beliefs in the classroom, and the school’s approach to academic milestones. Ask about the morning prayer, and ask for the lines to the school plays taught to your children starting in first grade.
If possible, speak to parents whose children have attended the school for several years to get a clearer picture of the long-term impact.
Most importantly, don’t be swayed by the anti-technology rhetoric alone. While it’s understandable to want to shield children from excessive screen time, there are other ways to achieve this without compromising on academic rigor or exposing them to religious dogma.
I wish there were a good private alternative to Waldorf in the United States that didn’t bring all of Steiner’s dogma along with it. Fortunately, I live in an area with access to good public schools, but I think there’s room in the education market to develop an alternative low or no tech educational system with plenty of outdoor ed and progressive education. Knowing how much I was willing to pay for my children’s Waldorf education, clearly there are parents willing to pay for alternatives.
A Lesson for the Tech Community
My experience has also taught me an important lesson about my own biases. In seeking a refuge from the technological world I inhabit, I projected my values onto an institution that ultimately did not share them. I made assumptions that people wouldn’t lie about their beliefs to gain access to my kids’ minds. As tech leaders, we must be cautious not to romanticize what appears to be the opposite of our industry. True balance comes not from rejecting technology wholesale but from integrating it thoughtfully and critically into our lives. I personally have been quite pleased by the technology employed at my local public school, and will continue to support this balance as an involved parent there.
For those navigating the world of alternative education, I hope my story serves as a cautionary tale. Waldorf may promise freedom from screens, but it comes with strings attached—strings that many of us don’t notice until they’re already tightly wound around our children.