My six year old Siena just finished her school year, and on the last day of school, her adorable little Waldorf school in Sausalito held a performance to showcase the musical talents of the children. Six year olds who had only been playing violin for six months played their instruments. Two youngsters played the harp. Eleven year olds sang risky, fabulous, brave solos (Adele’s Rolling In The Deep! Whoa…) Seventh graders rocked the guitar, the drums, and every possible orchestral instrument, while playing Taio Cruz’s Dynamite. And the whole school – kindergarten through seventh grade together – sang a capella.
It was precious.
As we all danced, clapped, sang along, and celebrated the musical talents of each other and our children, I noticed one precious thing that separates this nurturing Waldorf school from how I felt growing up. Nobody expects anyone else to be perfect.