I fell in love with the Waldorf school’s orderly and technology-free classroom that smelled like freshly-baked bread.

I fell for the place during the Open House, even though the apron-clad teacher, swirling a huge spoon in a bubbly vat of soup, seemed intent on casting magic spells on my trusting 5-year-old son.

Perhaps I was the one bewitched.

As soon …