Deep Roots, Strong Branches: Reflections on a Week of Collaboration Among Subject Teachers

Shellie Smith
Jul 17
3 min read

Reflections on the All Subjects Conference July 14-17, 2025

Deep Roots, Strong Branches: Child Development, Classroom Leadership, and Collaboration in Waldorf Special Subjects

Dear colleagues, dear friends,

As we draw this conference to a close, we take a moment to pause together—in the quiet space between all that we’ve experienced and all that we are about to carry forward.

Over these last four days, we’ve woven something rich. Like a tapestry has come into being—thread by thread—through your presence, your listening, your courage to share and to collaborate.

Subject teachers are much like dancers, moving through the school day with rhythm, grace, and constant adjustment. One moment, soothing a tender first-grade heart. The next, calling a class of teenagers to focus and form. We step into classrooms that are not always our own—but we bring something deeply our own into every space: presence, flexibility, devotion, and heart.

And this week, you’ve reminded each other—and maybe even yourselves—of just how meaningful that is.

Subject teachers often move between the cracks of school life. We carry rhythm from one room to another, adapt lessons on the fly, and hold dozens—if not hundreds—of students in our care. We create, we prepare, we adjust, we haul materials from room to room, and still somehow we manage to bring a song, or a story, or a moment of wonder.

And it’s not easy. This work requires strength and flexibility of soul.

It asks us to lead with rhythm, respond with intuition, and meet each child as they are—while also holding onto who WE are and taking care of ourselves.

But here’s what this week has shown us: you are not alone in this. We are not alone. What we hold individually becomes stronger when shared. And this—this conference—is proof of that.

Each of you came into this gathering from your own corner of the world—with different subjects, different age groups, different levels of experience. But what you’ve created here together is something unified: a web of insight, imagination, and mutual support. A deepening of understanding—of your own subject, yes—but also of the greater whole we’re all working within.

Waldorf education has always been interdisciplinary at its heart:

Music feeds language.
Movement nourishes form.
Handwork supports focus.
Language awakens cultural empathy.
Woodwork cultivates will.
And so much more.

Every subject, every gesture, helps the child come more fully into the world.

So when subject teachers collaborate—not just in passing, but intentionally—we strengthen the coherence of our students’ experience. We become a living chorus around the child, singing in harmony rather than in silos.

That’s what this conference has been about.

And I want to thank you for stepping into that spirit—so fully and so generously. Whether you’re brand new or decades in, you’ve shown up with openness, curiosity, and courage.

In our sessions this week, we explored the developmental arc of the grades, and what each stage truly asks of us—not just in curriculum, but in soul presence. We looked at how to incarnate a thriving classroom from the inside out, with clarity, care, and intention. We asked hard questions about methodology—about what lives beneath the methods, and how that living essence informs our choices. We opened our eyes anew to the quiet messages from the children who are struggling—the “canary children”—and recommitted to observing with love and action.

We dove deep into our subjects—movement, music, handwork, world languages, woodwork—and rediscovered the “why” behind what we teach. We honored the artistry in our work and leaned into our challenges with honesty and support.

And woven through it all was collaboration: not just as a buzzword, but as a lived practice.

We shared stories, asked questions, built relationships. We crossed disciplinary boundaries. We laughed, reflected, created, moved, and maybe even healed a little.

As we prepare to return to our schools, I offer you a simple invitation:

Keep weaving.

Keep weaving the threads of your subject into the greater fabric of the school. Keep weaving your observations into understanding. Your experience into wisdom. Your intuition into action. Your solitude into community.

And most importantly—keep weaving your love for the children into everything you do.

Because it shows. It matters. And it stays with them.

They may not remember the perfect lesson plan, or the cleanest recorder note, or the most seamless wood joint—but they will remember how it felt to be seen. To be inspired. To be guided by someone whose work radiated care and integrity.

That’s the true gift you bring to your students.

So as we close, may you carry forward: