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Title: Outlines of Educational Doctrine
Author: Herbart, John Frederick
Language: English
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*** Start of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "Outlines of Educational Doctrine" ***
[Transcriber’s Notes:
This e-text contains a translation of Herbart’s “Umriss pädagogischer
Vorlesungen”, the main text of which is divided into numbered
paragraphs. The numbers in the Index are references to these
paragraphs. De Garmo’s annotations are indented in this e-text by two
spaces. Herbart’s own annotations have the run-in heading “Note” and
are indented by four spaces.
Italic text is denoted by _underscores_ and small-capped text by =equal
signs=.]
OUTLINES OF EDUCATIONAL DOCTRINE
[Illustration: Publisher’s logo]
OUTLINES OF EDUCATIONAL DOCTRINE
BY
JOHN FREDERICK HERBART
_TRANSLATED BY_
ALEXIS F. LANGE, =Ph.D.=
=Associate Professor of English and Scandinavian Philology, and
Dean of the Faculty of the College of Letters,
University of California=
_ANNOTATED BY_
CHARLES DE GARMO, =Ph.D.=
=Professor of the Science and Art of Education,
Cornell University=
New York
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
LONDON: MACMILLAN & CO., =Ltd.=
1904
_All rights reserved_
=Copyright=, 1901,
=By= THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.
Set up and electrotyped. Published February, 1901. Reprinted
June, 1904.
Norwood Press
J. S. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith Co.
Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.
PREFACE
The reasons for translating and annotating Herbart’s “Outlines” are,
first, to present to the English-speaking public Herbart’s latest, and
also his most complete, work on education; and, second, to note to some
extent at least the advances made in educational thought since Herbart
laid down his pen.
Herbart’s educational writings are distinguished by two marked
characteristics: 1, their helpfulness in actual teaching; and 2, their
systematic completeness. The thoughtful reader can see the bearing
of each part upon all the others; the purposes of education are so
completely correlated with the means, that, whether the topic under
discussion be apperception or interest or methods of teaching or school
government or moral training or the presentation of a particular study,
the reader is never at a loss to see the relation of this part to the
whole.
The eminent practicability of Herbart’s thought depends upon his
psychological point of view, which is always that of concrete
experience. The moment one tries to apply rational psychology to actual
teaching, one begins to rise into the clouds, to become vague or,
at least, general. The reason for this is that rational psychology
deals with unchangeable presuppositions of mind. We may conform our
work to these standards, but we cannot modify them, any more than we
can a law of nature. But when we have to deal with an apperceiving
content, we feel at home, for over this we have some control. We can
build up moral maxims, we can establish permanent interests, we can
reveal the unfolding of whole developments of thought and effort, we
can fix the time order of studies and parts of studies; in short, we
can apply our pedagogical insight with some degree of success to actual
school problems. Though empirical psychology has in the last fifty
years had as rapid a development as any other department of science,
it has never departed essentially from the direction fixed by Herbart.
New methods have indeed been applied, but the leading motive has
remained empirical; it has had small tendency to drift toward rational
psychology. This fact makes Herbart’s educational thought, so far as
psychological bearing is concerned, seem as fresh and modern as when it
was first recorded.
In one important respect, however, Herbart’s system needs modernizing.
It is in relating education to conditions of society as it now exists.
German society has never been that of English-speaking countries; much
less does German society of the early part of the nineteenth century
correspond to Anglo-Saxon society at the beginning of the twentieth.
Indeed, even had there been correspondence before, there would be
divergence now. It is one of the main purposes of the annotation,
therefore, to point out the social implications of various parts of the
“Outlines.”
The annotation has made no attempt to improve Herbart’s prophetic
vision concerning many important matters, or to elucidate self-evident
propositions, or to supplement observations already complete, true, and
apt.
Especial attention is called to the exactness and illuminating
character of Herbart’s diagnosis of mental weaknesses and disorders
in children, together with his suggestions as to proper treatment.
Students of child-study, moreover, will find in this work not only
encouragement in their work, but also assistance in determining what is
worth studying in the child. The reader is constantly reminded of the
fact that, when written by a master, no book is newer than an old one.
=Cornell University=,
January, 1901.
CONTENTS
PAGE
=Introduction= 1
PART I
_THE DOUBLE BASIS OF PEDAGOGICS_
CHAPTER
I. The Ethical Basis 7
II. The Psychological Basis 15
PART II
_OUTLINES OF GENERAL PEDAGOGICS_
SECTION I. GOVERNMENT OF CHILDREN
I. Theoretical Aspects 30
II. Practical Aspects 33
SECTION II. INSTRUCTION
I. The Relation of Instruction to Government and Training 39
II. The Aim of Instruction 44
III. The Conditions of Many-sidedness 51
IV. The Conditions Determining Interest 60
V. The Main Kinds of Interest 76
VI. The Material of Instruction from Different Points of View 93
VII. The Process of Instruction 105
VIII. Remarks on the Plan of Instruction as a Whole 134
SECTION III. TRAINING
I. The Relation of Training to Government and to Instruction 140
II. The Aim of Training 143
III. Differentiation of Character 146
IV. Differentiation of Morality 151
V. Helps in Training 154
VI. General Method of Training 160
SECTION IV. SYNOPSIS OF GENERAL PEDAGOGICS FROM THE POINT
OF VIEW OF AGE
I. The First Three Years 198
II. The Ages from Four to Eight 201
III. Boyhood 209
IV. Youth 216
PART III
_SPECIAL APPLICATIONS OF PEDAGOGICS_
SECTION I. REMARKS ON THE TEACHINGS OF PARTICULAR BRANCHES
OF STUDY
I. Religion 219
II. History 223
III. Mathematics and Nature Study 241
IV. Geography 263
V. The Mother-tongue 269
VI. Greek and Latin 275
VII. Further Specification of Didactics 289
SECTION II. THE FAULTS OF PUPILS AND THEIR TREATMENT
I. General Differentiation 292
II. The Sources of Moral Weakness 301
III. The Effects of Training 308
IV. Special Faults 312
SECTION III. REMARKS ON THE ORGANIZATION OF EDUCATION
I. Home Education 317
II. Concerning Schools 321
OUTLINES OF EDUCATIONAL DOCTRINE
INTRODUCTION
1. The plasticity, or educability, of the pupil is the fundamental
postulate of pedagogics.
The concept plasticity, or capacity for being moulded, extends far
beyond the confines of pedagogics. It takes in even the primary
components of matter. It has been traced as far as the elementary
substances entering into the chemical changes of organic bodies. Signs
of plasticity of will are found in the souls of the higher animals.
Only man, however, exhibits plasticity of will in the direction of
moral conduct.
Had not the youthful mind the capacity to receive culture, education
would be impossible. This educability of the young has rarely if
ever been questioned in actual practice. Much philosophical strife,
however, has raged about the various conceptions of =WILL=, and
the consequent possibility of teaching virtue, or of training
the moral character. The extremes have been _fatalism_, or the
determination of conduct by means of forces lying entirely outside
the power of the individual; and _absolute caprice of will_, or the
determination of conduct entirely by the individual himself without
regard to outside influences. The doctrine of fatalism makes moral
education mechanical; that of volitional caprice makes it futile.
Educational theory must therefore assume a middle ground, in which
the self-activity of the individual and the moulding influence of
education are both recognized.
2. Pedagogics as a science is based on ethics and psychology. The
former points out the goal of education; the latter the way, the means,
and the obstacles.
This relationship involves the dependence of pedagogics on experience,
inasmuch as ethics includes application to experience, while psychology
has its starting-point, not in metaphysics alone, but in experience
correctly interpreted by metaphysics. But an exclusively empirical
knowledge of man will not suffice for pedagogics. It is the less
adequate in any age the greater the instability of morals, customs, and
opinions; for, as the new gains on the old, generalizations from former
observations cease to hold true.
In order to accept the statement that ethics points out the goal of
education, we must conceive of ethics in a broad way. At some periods
in the history of the world, the development of purely individual, or
subjective, character would have been thought a worthy and adequate
conception of the final purpose of education. Other-worldliness was
the ruling ideal. At present, however, we regard that man as most
fit for the world to come who best performs all his functions in the
world that now is. Ethics must therefore be conceived to embrace an
estimation of the value of a man’s conduct in every department of
life. Not only must it estimate the worth of pious feeling, but it
must embrace a consideration of every action in its relation to the
actor’s social, economic, and political environment. A man having
a praiseworthy character must be a good citizen of state, nation,
and community; he must be public-spirited, law-abiding, given to
honest dealing. Every child should be trained to be a useful member
of civilization as it now exists. Piety alone is insufficient; it
must be accompanied by honesty, industry, patriotism, public spirit.
Non-social, or purely individualistic, conceptions of character as
the goal of education must give way to those social ideals through
which alone the highest welfare of both individual and community
are to be conserved. Without such conceptions an industrial state,
such as now exists, becomes a human jungle in which men enter upon
a fiercer struggle than do the beasts of the real jungle. Social
coöperation is essential when we wish to transform a struggle of
mutual destruction into one of mutual helpfulness.
3. Philosophical systems, involving either fatalism or its opposite,
pure caprice of will, are logically shut out from pedagogics, because
the notion of plasticity, implying as it does a transition from the
indeterminate to the determinate, cannot by such systems be brought in
without inconsistency.
Common sense overcomes the logical difficulties of even the worst
systems. Herbart’s remark has, therefore, no practical significance.
The philosophy of Spinoza might easily be described by an opponent
as “fatalistic,” since it leaves no room for special providences in
the physical universe; yet Professor Paulsen, who holds substantially
to Spinoza’s view, is one of the most eminent promoters of the
theory of education in the university of Berlin. Herbart thought
Kant’s doctrine of transcendental will one of absolute volitional
caprice, yet the followers of Kant have been among the most energetic
promoters of mental and moral training. Herbart thinks he sees in
this remark a chance to put his philosophical opponents out of court,
to the benefit of his own system. If one philosopher develops a
system of “fatalism” and another one of “absolute free will,” the one
may be charged with making education impossible and the other with
making it futile. In either case, since we know that education is
neither impossible nor futile, the presumption is that both systems
are defective. This paragraph and others like it are mere indirect
methods of defending Herbart’s system of philosophy: they have no
real significance for the theory of education itself.
4. On the other hand, the assumption of unlimited plasticity is
equally inadmissible; it is for psychology to guard against this
error. The educability of the child is, to begin with, limited by his
individuality. Then, too, the possibility of determining and moulding
him at will through education is lessened by time and circumstances.
Lastly, the established character of the adult develops by an inner
process which in time passes beyond the reach of the educator.
5. Education seems thus to find a barrier, first, in the order of
nature, and later in the pupil’s own will. The difficulty is indeed
a real one, if the limitations of education are overlooked: hence
an apparent confirmation of fatalism as well as of the doctrine of
absolute free will.
Modern scientific evolutionary study of anthropology and history
tends to confirm the hasty thinker in the idea that the circumstances
of the environment completely determine the character and destiny
of men, since their debt to the moulding influences of society and
physical surroundings becomes more and more apparent; yet however
powerful the environment may prove to be in fixing the direction of
mental growth in the race, it cannot rightly be conceived as creating
the growing forces. All the sunshine and warmth in the world will
not cause a pebble to sprout; so no external influences whatever
can develop mind where there is none to develop. The exigencies
of Herbart’s metaphysics drove him into a crusade against Kant’s
doctrine of innate freedom, or transcendental will; all the freedom
that Herbart would admit was that psychological freedom which is
acquired through instruction and training. The quarrel belongs to
eighteenth-century metaphysics, not to modern psychology, nor to
education; for however potentially free an infant may be, nobody
thinks of making it responsible, except so far as growing experience
gives it insight and volitional strength.
=Note.=--Many thinkers fluctuate constantly between these two
erroneous extremes. When looking historically at mankind as
a whole, they arrive at fatalism, as does Gumplowicz in his
“Outlines of Sociology.” Teacher and pupil alike seem to them to
be in the current of a mighty stream, not swimming,--that is,
self-active,--which would be the correct view, but carried along
without wills of their own. They arrive, on the other hand, at the
idea of a perfectly free will, when they contemplate the individual
and see him resist external influences, the aims of the teacher
very often included. Here they fail to comprehend the nature of
will, and sacrifice the concept of natural law for that of will.
Young teachers can hardly avoid sharing this uncertainty, favored
as it is by the philosophies of the day; much is gained, however,
when they are able to observe fluctuations of their own views
without falling into either extreme.
6. The power of education must be neither over- nor under-estimated.
The educator should, indeed, try to see how much may be done; but
he must always expect that the outcome will warn him to confine his
attempts within reasonable bounds. In order not to neglect anything
essential, he needs to keep in view the practical bearings of the
whole theory of ideas; in order to understand and interpret correctly
the data furnished by observation of the child, the teacher must make
constant use of psychology.
7. In scientific study concepts are separated which in practice must
always be kept united. The work of education is continuous. With an
eye to every consideration at once, the educator must always endeavor
to connect what is to come with what has gone before. Hence a mode of
treatment which, following the several periods of school life, simply
enumerates the things to be done in sequence, is inadequate in a work
on pedagogics. In an appendix this method will serve to facilitate
a bird’s-eye view; the discussion of general principles, arranged
according to fundamental ideas, must needs precede. But our very first
task will necessarily consist in dealing, at least briefly, with the
ethical and the psychological basis of pedagogics.
PART I
_THE DOUBLE BASIS OF PEDAGOGICS_
CHAPTER I
=The Ethical Basis=
8. The term _virtue_ expresses the whole purpose of education. Virtue
is the idea of inner freedom which has developed into an abiding
actuality in an individual. Whence, as inner freedom is a relation
between insight and volition, a double task is at once set before the
teacher. It becomes his business to make actual each of these factors
separately, in order that later a permanent relationship may result.
Insight is conceived as the perception of what is right or wrong.
This perception is founded on the spontaneous, or intuitive, feeling
that arises in the mind when certain elementary will-relations are
presented to the intelligence. The unperverted mind has a natural
antipathy to strife, malevolence, injustice, selfishness; it has a
corresponding approval of harmony, good-will, justice, benevolence.
These feelings arise, naturally, only when the appropriate ideas are
present. Insight, therefore, is a state of feeling or disposition
arising from knowledge, or ideas.
When volition has come into permanent accord with educated insight,
virtue has been attained. Conscience approves every virtuous
act; it disapproves every deviation from virtue. Inner freedom,
therefore, is marked by approving conscience; lack of it, by accusing
conscience. The development of virtuous character is not so easy,
however, as might appear from these simple statements, for virtue
has a shifting, not to say a developing character. Elementary as the
fundamental ethical ideas may be when presented in the home or in
the kindergarten, they are not elementary when met with in modern
civilization. At times virtue has been of a military character, as
in Sparta and Rome; at other times it has been ecclesiastical, as in
the Middle Ages. At the present time, in addition to all that it has
ever been from a purely Christian character, it is civil, social,
industrial. Virtue in a modern city has a content quite different
from that in a pioneer mining camp. Furthermore, virtue is uneven in
its development. The race has, for instance, been trained long and
hard to respect unprotected property, so that we may fairly say such
respect has become instinctive; yet when unprotected property comes
into new relations to the individual, as in the case of borrowed
books, we may find only a rudimentary conscience. What scholar is not
a sufferer from this form of unripe virtue?
9. But even here at the outset we need to bear in mind the identity of
morality with the effort put forth to realize the permanent actuality
of the harmony between insight and volition. To induce the pupil to
make this effort is a difficult achievement; at all events, it becomes
possible only when the twofold training mentioned above is well
under way. It is easy enough, by a study of the example of others,
to cultivate theoretical acumen; the moral application to the pupil
himself, however, can be made, with hope of success, only in so far as
his inclinations and habits have taken a direction in keeping with his
insight. If such is not the case, there is danger lest the pupil, after
all, knowingly subordinate his correct theoretical judgment to mere
prudence. It is thus that evil in the strict sense originates.
It is helpful to give the pupil abundant opportunity to pass judgment
upon the moral quality of actions not his own. The best opportunities
are at first the most impersonal ones, for where the child himself is
immediately concerned, the quality of his judgment may be impaired
by intense personal feelings, such as fear of blame or punishment.
Literature furnishes the earliest and most copious examples; later,
history may be helpful, though there is great danger of taking
partial or mistaken views as to the moral quality of historical
deeds. A selection of literature is an artistic whole. All the
relations can be easily perceived, but any given historical event is
likely to be a small section of a whole too vast for the youthful
mind to comprehend. It is for this reason that caution is needed when
passing judgment upon historical facts.
To encourage the child to pass judgment in these impersonal cases
is to sharpen his natural perceptions of right and wrong, and
to influence his disposition favorably. One who has been led
to condemn cruelty to animals in this way is likely to be more
thoughtful himself, and less disposed wantonly to inflict pain. But
every resource of authority and persuasion, as well as appeal to
sensibility and conscience, must be employed to make virtuous action
habitual, and to prevent the generation of evil.
10. Of the remaining practical or ethical concepts, the idea of
perfection points to health of body and mind; it implies a high regard
for both, and their systematic cultivation.
Perfection here means _completeness of efficiency_, rather than
acquisition of holiness. An efficient will is strong, vigorous,
decided; it is self-consistent in the pursuit of leading purposes,
not vacillating or incoherent. Still, the idea of moral perfection is
not a remote one, for, in order to be thoroughly efficient, a will
must be in substantial accord with the ethical order of a rational
society. All its deviations from established law and custom will be
for their improvement, not for the destruction of what is good in
them.
11. The idea of good-will counsels the educator to ward off temptation
to ill-will as long as such temptation might prove dangerous. It is
essential, on the other hand, to imbue the pupil with a feeling of
respect for good-will.
Good-will is one of the three concrete virtues lying at the basis of
social order. It is both _passive_, as in _laissez faire_ attitudes
of mind, and _active_ as in thoroughgoing civic, business, and social
coöperation. School training must seek to impress the mind with
respect for the active rather than the passive type of good-will.
So, too, must it ward off the dangers both of passive and active
ill-will, as manifested, in covetousness, malice, malevolence, envy,
treachery, stinginess, cruelty, hard-heartedness. How these ends may
be attained, will be considered later.
12. The idea of justice demands that the pupil abstain from
contention. It demands, furthermore, reflection on strife, so that
respect for justice may strike deep root.
No idea appeals more strongly to the unperverted youthful mind than
that of justice or fair play; even the gentlest natures become
indignant at manifestations of injustice. The basis of the idea is,
in the thought of our author, our natural displeasure in contention
over that which, in the nature of the case, only one person can
have. Primarily, it concerns property rights, but secondarily it may
extend to other relations in which two or more wills are at issue.
Justice in the acquisition, possession, and disposition of wealth is
the theme of the greater part of every judicial system. The idea of
justice is the second of the three concrete moral virtues necessary
for civilized society.
13. The idea of equity is especially involved in cases where the pupil
has merited punishment as requital for the intentional infliction of
pain. Here the degree of punishment must be carefully ascertained and
acknowledged as just.
=Note.=--This kind of punishment should not be confounded with
educative punishment--so called, _i.e._, punishment through natural
consequences.
The third concrete moral idea is that of _equity_, or _requital_. It
arises when existing will-relations are altered either for good or
bad. The natural demand is that the requital shall be adequate to the
deed. Lack of requital for good deeds we call ingratitude, one of the
most hateful of human failings. In savagery and barbarism private
vengeance is the normal method of requiting injuries. Remnants of
this system still exist in the duel, and in the fierce vendettas of
some sparsely settled regions. Civilization demands that requital
for evil deeds shall be remanded to the executors of established
law. Only in this way is society saved from destructive broils. In
this respect, as in so many others, the school is the miniature of
the institutional world. The teacher is, to a considerable extent,
lawgiver, judge, and executive. Not a small part of his moral
influence upon his pupils depends upon the justice of his requitals
for violated law. Good-will, justice or rights, and requital are the
three fundamental concrete moral ideas upon which sound character,
both individual and national, is based. The remaining two are that
of inner freedom and that of efficiency. Though formal in character,
_i.e._, devoid of positive content, they are equally important with
the more concrete conceptions.
14. Where a number of pupils are assembled there arises, naturally,
on a small scale, a system of laws and rewards. This system, and the
demands which in the world at large spring from the same ideas, must be
brought into accord.
The school is a miniature world, to be regulated by the same system
of moral ideas as that which obtains in society. Compare 182, 310.
15. The concept of an administrative system has great significance for
pedagogics, since every pupil, whatever his rank or social status,
must be trained for coöperation in the social whole to fit him for
usefulness. This requirement may assume very many different forms.
16. Of the system of civilization only the aspect of general culture,
not that of special training, must be emphasized at this point.
=Note.=--The principles of practical philosophy which have just
been briefly indicated are at the same time the starting-points of
ethical insight for the pupils. If the resolve to direct the will
accordingly be added, and if the pupil obeys this resolve, such
obedience constitutes morality. Quite distinct from this is the
obedience yielded, be the motive fear or affection, to the person
of the teacher, so long as that higher obedience is not securely
established.
17. For the business of education, the idea of perfection, while it
does not rise into excessive prominence, stands out above all others
on account of its uninterrupted application. The teacher discovers in
the as yet undeveloped human being a force which requires his incessant
attention to intensify, to direct, and to concentrate.
=Note.=--The maxim _perfice te_ is neither so universal as Wolff
asserted, as though it were the sole fundamental principle
of ethics, nor so objectionable as Kant represents it to be.
Perfection, quantitatively regarded (_Vollkommenheit_--the state of
having _come_ to _fulness_), is the first urgent task wherever man
shows himself lower, smaller, weaker, more narrowly limited, than
he might be. Growth, in every sense of the word, is the natural
destiny of the child, and the primary condition of whatever else of
worth may be expected of him in later life. The principle _perfice
te_ was deprived of its true meaning by the attempt to define by
it the whole of virtue--a blunder, since no single practical idea
ever exhausts the contents of that term. Quite different is the
import of the next remark, which applies solely to the practice of
pedagogy.
18. The constant presence of the idea of perfection easily introduces
a false feature into moral education in the strict sense. The pupil
may get an erroneous impression as to the relative importance of the
lessons, practice, and performance demanded of him, and so be betrayed
into the belief that he is essentially perfect when these demands are
satisfied.
19. For this reason alone, if others were wanting, it is necessary to
combine moral education proper, which in everyday life lays stress
continually on correct self-determination, with religious training.
The notion that something really worthy has been achieved needs to be
tempered by humility. Conversely, religious education has need of the
moral also to forestall cant and hypocrisy, which are only too apt to
appear where morality has not already secured a firm foothold through
earnest self-questioning and self-criticism with a view to improvement.
Finally, inasmuch as moral training must be put off until after insight
and right habits have been acquired, religious education, too, should
not be begun too early; nor should it be needlessly delayed.
It is well known what obstacles confront the American teacher who
desires to give a religious basis to moral character. For a full
discussion of the subject viewed from numerous standpoints, the
reader is referred to “Principles of Religious Education,” Longmans,
Green & Co., New York, 1900. This book is a series of lectures by
prominent school men and others.
CHAPTER II
=The Psychological Basis=
20. It is an error, indeed, to look upon the human soul as an aggregate
of all sorts of faculties; but this error only becomes worse when, as
is usually done, the statement is added that faculties are after all
at bottom one and the same active principle. The traditional terms
should rather be employed to distinguish mental phenomena that present
themselves to experience as successively predominant. In this way we
get the leading features of soul-life, which reminds us sufficiently of
psychology for our immediate purpose.
21. The stage of predominant sense-activity is followed by that of
memory in the sense of exact reproduction of series of percepts
previously formed. Traces of higher activities are as yet absent. The
only thing to be noted is that the series, unless rendered long by
frequent repetition, are generally short; necessarily so, since while
forming they are exposed to continual disturbances caused by great
sensitiveness to new impressions.
22. Even very young children betray at play and in speech that form of
self-activity ascribed to imagination.
The most insignificant toys, provided they are movable, occasion
changes and combinations of percepts, attended even with strong
emotion, that astonish the mature observer, and perhaps excite anxiety
lest some of these motley fancies should become fixed ideas. No evil
after effects are to be feared, however, so long as the emotional
excitement does not threaten health, and passes over quickly. A strong
play impulse is, on the contrary, a promising sign, especially when it
manifests itself energetically, though late, in weak children.
23. Soon there follows a time when the observation of external objects
prompts the child to ask innumerable questions. Here that activity
which is called power of judgment begins to stir in conjunction
with reasoning. The child now strives to subsume what is new under
conceptions already in his mind, and to affix their symbols, the
familiar words. He is still far, withal, from being able to follow an
abstract train of thought, to employ periodic sentences, and to conduct
himself rationally throughout. The slightest occasions will prove him
a child still.
24. In the meantime, the child manifests, besides the physical feelings
of pleasure and pain, affection for one person and aversion to another;
furthermore, a seemingly strong will, together with a violent spirit
of contradiction, unless this is suppressed in time.
25. On the other hand, the ethical judgment as a rule shows itself at
first very seldom and transiently--a foreshadowing of the difficulty
of securing for it later, in spite of obstinacy and selfishness, the
function of control, on which control depend both morality and the
higher sense of art.
26. The boy asks fewer questions, but tries all the more to handle
and shape things. He is gaining knowledge by himself and acquiring
dexterity. Gradually his respect for his elders increases; he fears
their censure and stands in awe of their superiority. At the same time
he attaches himself more closely to other boys of the same age. From
now on it becomes more difficult to observe him. The teacher who has no
previous knowledge of boys who have reached this age, may long deceive
himself in regard to them and will seldom obtain complete frankness.
This reserve is indicative of more or less self-determination, which is
commonly attributed to pure reason.
27. The names for the mental faculties acquire renewed importance with
the beginning of systematic instruction. Their import, however, shows a
marked difference. Now memory is relied on for the acquisition, without
additions or omissions, of prescribed series, the order being fixed
or not, as the case may be; usually there is a slight connection with
older ideas. Imagination is called for to lay hold of the objects
of distant lands and ages. The understanding is expected to derive
general notions from a limited number of particulars, to name and to
connect them. The development of the ethical judgment teachers rarely
wait for; obedience to commands is demanded. Obedience of this kind
depends chiefly on the ease with which antecedent ideas are revived and
connected in response to, but not beyond, a given stimulus. In extreme
cases the fear of punishment effectively takes the place of all other
motives. But often not even the usual memory-work can be successfully
exacted through fear, much less obedience without oversight.
28. Many pupils reveal a curious contrast. In their own sphere they
display a good memory, a lively imagination, keen understanding; by the
teacher they are credited with little of all these. They rule perhaps
over their playmates because of their superior intelligence, or possess
at least the respect of the latter, while in their classes they show
only incapacity. Such experiences suggest the difficulty of making
instruction take proper hold of the inner growth of the pupil. It is
evident, at the same time, that what is customarily ascribed to the
action of the various mental faculties takes place in certain groups of
ideas.
29. The grown man has one group of ideas for his church, another for
his work at home, a third for society, and so on. These groups, though
partially interacting and mutually determinant, are far from being
connected at every point. This is true as early as boyhood. The boy
has one set of ideas for his school, another for the family circle,
still another for the playground, etc. This fact explains better than
intentional reserve the observation that a boy is one being at home or
at school and quite another among strangers.
30. Each body of ideas is made up of complications of ideas, which, if
the union is perfect, come and go in consciousness as undivided wholes,
and of series, together with their interlacings, whose members unfold
successively, one by one, provided they are not checked. The closer the
union of parts within these complications and series, the more absolute
the laws according to which ideas act in consciousness, the stronger
is the resistance against everything opposing their movement; hence
the difficulty of acting upon them through instruction. They admit,
however, of additions and recombinations, and so may in the course of
time undergo essential changes; up to a certain point they even change
of themselves if repeatedly called into consciousness by dissimilar
occasions, _e.g._, by the frequent delivery of the same lecture before
different audiences.
The general notions of things are complexes or complications of their
attributes. Other examples of complexes important to instruction are
furnished by logical concepts and words. But since words of several
languages may be perfectly complicated or bound together with the
same concept, without being just as intimately connected with one
another, it should be noted that when the object or concept comes up at
different times, it will be joined now with this and next with another
language. Yet the repeated perception of the object is not quite the
same perception as before, although earlier ideas mostly coalesce so
fully with later homogeneous ideas that the difference makes itself
felt but little.
31. The inner structure of groups of ideas becomes discernible in a
measure when thoughts are bodied forth in speech. Its most general
aspect is disclosed in the construction of a period. Conjunctions
particularly are important in that they, without denoting a content
of their own, serve as hints to the listener. They point out to him
the connection, the antitheses, the positiveness, or the uncertainty
of the speaker’s utterances; for the meanings of conjunctions can be
traced back to the series-form, to negation and certitude. It should
be noted that want and refusal are related to negation; expectation,
together with hope and fear, to uncertainty, so that the consideration
of thought masses must also include emotional states. Children possess
the structure of thought just as they experience the emotional states,
long before they know how to embody the same in words with the help
of conjunctions. Certain conjunctions, such as, to be sure, although,
on the contrary, either--or, neither--nor, etc., are not adopted by
children until late.
32. Of equal importance with the inner organization of the pupil’s
ideas are, for the teacher, the degree of ease or difficulty with which
a given mass of ideas is called into consciousness, and its relatively
long or brief persistence in consciousness. Here we are face to face
with the conditions of efficient instruction and training. The most
necessary statements relative to this subject will be made under the
head of interest and character-building.
33. The capacity for education, therefore, is determined not by the
relationship in which various originally distinct mental faculties
stand to one another, but by the relations of ideas already acquired to
one another, and to the physical organism. Every pupil must be studied
with reference to both.
=Note.=--In the minds of those whose early training has been in
the hands of several persons, whose early life has, perhaps, even
been spent in different households or has been tossed about by
changes of fortune, there are usually formed thought masses that
are heterogeneous and poorly correlated. Nor is it easy to win the
single-hearted devotion of such boys. They cherish secret wishes,
they feel contrasts, the nature of which it is difficult to get at,
and soon strike out in directions which education can frequently
not encourage. Far more susceptible of educative influences are
pupils that have been, for a long time, under the guidance of only
one person,--of the mother especially,--who has had their full
confidence. It now remains to base their further training on what
already exists and to refrain from demanding sudden leaps.
34. Now, in order to gain an adequate knowledge of each pupil’s
capacity for education, observation is necessary--observation both of
his thought masses and of his physical nature. The study of the latter
includes that of temperament, especially with reference to emotional
susceptibility. With some, fear is the first natural impulse, with
others, anger; some laugh and cry easily, others do not. In some cases
a very slight stimulus suffices to excite the vascular system. We need
to note furthermore:--
(1) The games of pupils. Do they in a thoroughly childlike manner still
play with any object that comes to hand? Do they intentionally change
their games to suit a varying preference? Can distinct objects of
persistent desire be discovered?
(2) Their mental capacity and processes as shown in their studies. Is
the pupil able to grasp long or only short series? Does he make many or
few slips in the recitation? Do his lessons find a spontaneous echo in
his play?
(3) Their depth and consistency. Are their utterances superficial, or
do they come from the depths of the soul? A comparative study of words
and actions will gradually answer this question.
Such observations will take account also of the rhythm of the pupil’s
mental life as well as of the character of his store of thoughts. The
insight thus obtained determines the matter and method of instruction.
The reader will not fail to notice that much of modern child study
is anticipated in the foregoing paragraphs. Further important
contributions to the same subject are made in paragraphs 294–329.
35. Instruction in the sense of mere information-giving contains no
guarantee whatever that it will materially counteract faults and
influence existing groups of ideas that are independent of the imparted
information. But it is these ideas that education must reach; for the
kind and extent of assistance that instruction may render to conduct
depend upon the hold it has upon them.
Facts, at least, must serve as material for methodical treatment,
otherwise they do not enlarge even the scope of mental activity. They
rise in value when they become instinct with life and acquire mobility
so as to enrich the imagination. But their ethical effect always
remains questionable so long as they do not help to correct or modify
the ethical judgment, or desire and action, or both.
This point calls for a few additional distinctions. Generally speaking,
rudeness decreases in proportion to the expansion of the mental horizon
by instruction. The mere diffusion of desires over the enlarged
thought area causes them to lose something of their one-sided energy.
Moreover, if instruction presents ethical subjects of some kind in
a comprehensible way, the pupil’s disposition undergoes a refining
process so that it at least approximates a correct estimate of the
will, that is, the creation of ethical ideas.
Such favorable results are, however, apt to be outweighed by the harm
done when mere knowledge becomes the chief aim of ambition.
36. In order that instruction may act on the pupil’s ideas and
disposition, every avenue of approach should be thrown open. The mere
fact that we can never know with certainty, beforehand, what will
influence the pupil most, warns us against one-sidedness of instruction.
Ideas spring from two main sources,--experience and social intercourse.
Knowledge of nature--incomplete and crude--is derived from the former;
the later furnishes the sentiments entertained toward our fellow-men,
which, far from being praiseworthy, are on the contrary often very
reprehensible. To improve these is the more urgent task; but neither
ought we to neglect the knowledge of nature. If we do, we may expect
error, fantastical notions, and eccentricities of every description.
37. Hence, we have two main branches of instruction,--the historical
and the scientific. The former embraces not only history proper, but
language study as well; the latter includes, besides natural science,
mathematics.
“Historical” must be interpreted to include all human sciences,
such as history, literature, languages, æsthetics, and political,
economic, and social science. “Scientific” may include applied
as well as pure science, and then we add all forms of industrial
training to the curriculum. Other divisions of the subject-matter
of instruction are often helpful. Thus one may speak of the human
sciences, the natural sciences, and the economic sciences. The
economic sciences include those activities where man and nature
interact. Dr. Wm. T. Harris speaks of five coördinate groups of
subjects, corresponding to what he calls the “five windows of the
soul.”
38. Other reasons aside, the need alone of counteracting selfishness
renders it necessary for every school that undertakes the education of
the whole man to place human conditions and relations in the foreground
of instruction. This humanistic aim should underlie the studies of the
historical subjects, and only with reference to this aim may they be
allowed to preponderate.
An interesting attempt to realize the aim here demanded is found in
Professor John Dewey’s “School and Society,”[1] which is in effect a
description of what he is working out in his practice or experimental
school in connection with his department in the University of Chicago.
“If the aim of historical instruction is to enable the child to
appreciate the values of social life, to see in imagination the
forces which favor and let men’s effective coöperations with one
another, to understand the sorts of character that help on and that
hold back, the essential thing in its presentation is to make it
moving, dynamic. History must be presented not as an accumulation
of results or effects, a mere statement of what has happened, but
as a forceful, acting thing. The motives, that is, the motors, must
stand out. To study history is not to amass information, but to use
information in constructing a vivid picture of how and why men did
thus and so: achieved their successes and came to their failures.”[2]
=Note.=--This view does not shut out the other held in regard to
Gymnasia, namely, that their business is to preserve and perpetuate
a knowledge of classical antiquity; the latter aim must be made
congruent with the former.
[1] Dewey, “The School and Society,” University of Chicago Press, 1899.
[2] Dewey, “The Aim of History in Elementary Education,” Elementary
School Record, No. 8, University of Chicago Press, 1900.
39. Mathematical studies, from elementary arithmetic to higher
mathematics, are to be linked to the pupil’s knowledge of nature,
and so to his experience, in order to gain admission into his sphere
of thought. Instruction in mathematics, however thorough, fails
pedagogically when the ideas generated form an isolated group. They are
usually soon forgotten, or, if retained, contribute but little toward
personal worth.
It may be added that the leading practical motive in the teaching of
arithmetic has been economic, the cost of things forming the chief
reliance for problems. Only those parts of nature study that involve
important quantitative relations are fitted for correlation with
mathematics. Biology, for instance, which is _qualitative_, since it
deals with life, is a poor support for mathematics; but physics is a
good one.
40. In general, it will always remain a matter of uncertainty whether
and how instruction will be received and mentally elaborated. To
diminish this uncertainty, if for no other reasons, there is need of
constant endeavor to put the pupil in a frame of mind suitable for
instruction. This task falls within the province of training.
41. But even apart from reference to instruction, training must seek
to ward off violent desires and to prevent the injurious outbursts of
emotion. We may grant that after the days of school life are over,
individual traits will always break forth again in this respect; but
experiences, too, follow, and in connection with these the after-effect
of education comes to light in proportion as education has been more
or less successful. It shows itself in the nature and the amount
of self-knowledge through which the adult strives to restrain his
native faults. Seeming exceptions are in most cases accounted for by
impressions produced in very early youth and long concealed.
As soon as a person attains freedom of action, he usually endeavors
to achieve the life which in his earlier years seemed most desirable.
Hence training and instruction have each to be directed against the
springing up of illusive longings and toward a true picture of the
blessings and burdens of various social classes and professions.
What modifications of individuality training may accomplish, is brought
about less by restrictions, which cannot be permanent, than by inducing
an early development of the higher impulses whereby they attain
predominance.
42. The larger portion of the restrictions necessary during the
period of education falls under another head, that of government. The
question of completeness of education aside, children no less than
adults need to experience the constraint imposed on every one by human
society: they, too, must be kept within bounds. This function the
state delegates to the family, to guardians, and to the schools. Now
the purpose of government refers to present order; that of training to
the future character of the adult. The underlying points of view are
accordingly so different that a distinction must necessarily be made in
a system of pedagogics between training and government.
43. In matters of government, too, much depends on how keenly its
disciplinary measures are felt. Only good training can insure the right
kind of sensibility. A gentle rebuke may prove more effective than
blows. The first thing to do, of course, when unruly children create
disorder, is to govern, to restore order; but government and training
should, if possible, go together. The distinction between these two
concepts serves to aid the reflection of the teacher, who ought to know
what he is about, rather than to suggest a perceptible separation in
practice.
44. In the following pages, general pedagogics, which is followed
necessarily by observations of a more special nature, will be
discussed under the three main heads,--government, instruction,
training. What needs to be said concerning government as the primary
condition of education will be disposed of first. Next comes the theory
of instruction and didactics. The last place is reserved for training;
for an enduring effect could not be expected from it, if it were
severed from instruction. For this reason the teacher must always keep
the latter in view when he fixes his attention on methods of training,
which in actual practice always work hand in hand with instruction. The
other customary form of treatment, that according to age, while not
adapted to the exposition of principles, finds its proper place in the
chapter leading over to the discussion of special topics.
PART II
_OUTLINES OF GENERAL PEDAGOGICS_
SECTION I
GOVERNMENT OF CHILDREN
CHAPTER I
=Theoretical Aspects=
45. We assume at the outset the existence of all the care and nurture
requisite for physical growth and well-being; a bringing up that shall
be as free from pampering as from dangerous hardening. There must be
no actual want to lead a child astray, nor undue indulgence to create
unnecessary demands. How much hardening it is safe to risk will depend
in each case on the child’s constitution.
46. The foundation of government consists in keeping children employed.
No account is taken as yet of the prospective gain to mental culture;
the time is to be fully occupied, at all events, even if the immediate
purpose be merely the avoidance of disorder. This purpose, however,
involves the requirement of ample provision, according to the ages of
pupils, for the need of physical activity, that the cause of natural
restlessness may be removed. This need is more urgent with some
than with others; there are children that seem ungovernable because
compelled to sit still.
47. Other things being equal, self-chosen occupations deserve the
preference; but it rarely happens that children know how to keep
themselves busy sufficiently and continuously. Specific tasks, not to
be abandoned until completed, assure order much better than random
playing, which is apt to end in ennui. It is desirable that adults
possessing the requisite patience assist children, if not always, at
least frequently, in their games; that they explain pictures, tell
stories, have them retold, etc. With advancing maturity, a steadily
increasing proportion of the occupations assumes the character of
instruction or of exercises growing out of it; this work should be
properly balanced by recreations.
48. Next in order comes supervision, and with it numerous commands and
prohibitions. Under this head several things must be considered.
In the first place this: Whether under certain circumstances one might
withdraw a command or permit what has once been forbidden. It is
ill-advised to give an order more sweeping than the execution is meant
to be; and it weakens government to yield to the entreaties, the tears,
or, worse still, the impetuous insistence of children.
Also this question: Whether it is possible to make sure of obedience.
Where children are not kept busy and are left without oversight, the
issue becomes doubtful.
The difficulty grows at a rapid rate with an increase in numbers. This
is true especially of larger educational institutions, but, on account
of the coming and going of pupils, applies in a measure also to common
day schools.
49. The usual solution is greater strictness of supervision. But this
involves the risk of utter failure to receive voluntary obedience, and
of inciting a match game in shrewdness.
As to voluntary obedience, much depends on the ratio of restraint to
the freedom that still remains. Ordinarily, youth submits readily
enough to many restrictions, provided such restrictions bear upon
specific fixed points, and leave elbow room for independent action.
In the work of supervision the teacher will find it hard to rely on
himself entirely, particularly if he has charge of classes only at
stated times. Others must assist him; he himself will have to resort
occasionally to surprises. Supervision is always an evil when coupled
with unnecessary distrust. It is essential, therefore, to make those
who do not merit distrust understand that the measures adopted are not
directed against them.
CHAPTER II
=Practical Aspects=
50. Since supervision is not to be vigorous to the point of ever felt
pressure, child government, to be effective, requires both gentle
and severe measures. In general, this effectiveness results from the
natural superiority of the adult, a fact of which teachers sometimes
need to be reminded. Whatever the plan of supervision, there must be
coupled with it an adequate mode of disciplinary procedure. A record
should be kept in schools, not for the law-abiding pupils, but for
those guilty of repeated acts of disobedience. These remarks do not
thus far include any reference to marks and records pertaining to
education proper; they are confined to what is popularly, but loosely,
called discipline, that is, the training of pupils to conform to the
system of order that obtains in the school.
Home training seldom requires such bookkeeping; but even here it may
at times be useful. Of course, the individual child knows in any case
that some one is keeping an eye on his actions, but the fact becomes
more deeply impressed upon his memory if the reproofs incurred by him
are recorded.
51. It would be in vain to attempt to banish entirely the corporal
punishments usually administered after fruitless reprimands; but use
should be made of them so sparingly that they be feared rather than
actually inflicted.
Recollection of the rod does not hurt a boy. Nor is there any harm in
his present conviction that a flogging is henceforth as much beyond
the range of possibility as his meriting such treatment. But it would,
no doubt, be injurious to actually violate his self-respect by a blow,
however little he might mind the physical pain. And pernicious in the
highest degree, although, nevertheless, not quite obsolete yet, is the
practice of continuing to beat children already hardened to blows.
Brutish insensibility is the consequence, and the hope is almost vain
that even a long period of now unavoidable indulgence will restore a
normal state of feeling.
There is less objection to making use, for a few hours, of hunger as
a corrective. Here only an act of deprivation takes place, not one
involving a direct insult.
Curtailment of freedom is the most commonly employed form of
punishment; justly so, provided it be properly adjusted to the offence.
Moreover, it admits of the most varied gradations from standing in a
corner to confinement in a dark room, perhaps even with hands tied
together behind the back. Only, for several serious reasons, this
punishment must not be of long duration. A whole hour is more than
enough unless there is careful supervision. Besides, the place must be
chosen judiciously.
Solitary confinement, especially in a dark room, is seldom if ever
resorted to in American public schools. For remarks upon the social
basis of modern school punishments, see 55.
52. Corrections of such severity, as removal from home or expulsion
from an institution, are to be administered only in extreme cases; for
what is to become of the expelled pupil? A burden to another school?
And in case the transfer implies the same freedom, the old disorderly
conduct will usually be resumed. Such pupils must, therefore, be placed
under very strict supervision and given new occupations. We must trust
to the new environment to obliterate gradually the old vitiated circle
of thought.
53. It is a well-known fact that authority and love are surer means
of securing order than harsh measures are. But authority cannot be
created by every one at will. It implies obvious superiority in mind,
in knowledge, in physique, in external circumstances. Love can, indeed,
be gained in the course of time by a complaisant manner--the love of
well-disposed pupils; but just where government becomes most necessary,
complaisance has to cease. Love must not be purchased at the expense
of weak indulgence; it is of value only when united with the necessary
severity.
54. In early childhood and with healthy children, government is, on
the whole, easy. It continues to be easy after they have once formed
habits of obedience. But it should not be interrupted. Even if children
have been left to themselves or in charge of strangers only a few days,
the change is noticeable. It requires an effort to tighten the reins
again--something not to be done too suddenly.
Where boys have been allowed to run wild, the attempt to bring them
back to orderly conduct reveals the differences of individuality. Some
are easily made to return to appropriate work by kindness combined with
a moderate measure of forbearance, others have sense enough to fear
threats and to avoid penalties; but we may unfortunately also expect to
find a few whose sole thought is to escape from supervision, however
unpleasant for them the consequences may be.
Where home ties are wanting, this spirit may develop even during
boyhood with ominous rapidity; during adolescence the difficulty of
checking it may grow to be insuperable.
55. As a rule, it is reasonable to assume that youth will try to break
through restraints as soon as these are felt. A sufficient amount of
satisfying activity, together with uniform firmness of the lines of
restraint, will, indeed, soon put an end to persistent attempts of
this kind; yet they will be repeated from time to time. As boys grow
older there is a change of pursuits; now the restraining boundaries
must gradually be enlarged. The question now is whether education has
progressed sufficiently far to make government less indispensable.
Moreover, the choice of work comes to be determined by the prospects
opening before the young man, according to his rank and means, together
with his native capabilities and acquired knowledge. To encourage
such pursuits as being appropriate for him, and, on the other hand,
to reduce mere hobbies and diversions to harmless proportions, still
remains the function of government. In any case government should not
be wholly surrendered too early, least of all when the environment is
such as to justify apprehension of temptation.
Though American teachers are perhaps not accustomed to emphasize the
distinction between government for order and training for character,
the difference, nevertheless, exists, often in an exaggerated form.
Just as fever is looked upon as the measure of functional disturbance
in the body, so disorder in the schoolroom is looked upon as the
measure of the teacher’s failure. As fever is the universal symptom
of disease, so disorder is the index of failure. The diagnosis may
err in either case as to what the seat of the difficulty really is,
but that something is wrong is plain to all. The fact that the public
usually gauge a teacher’s efficiency by the order he keeps has led
in the past to an exaggerated emphasis upon school discipline. The
means for securing good order have greatly changed since Herbart’s
time. A growing sense of social solidarity in the community, together
with the all but universal employment of women as teachers in the
elementary grades, has transferred the basis of discipline from
the teacher to the community. It is social pressure in and out of
the school that is the main reliance for regularity, punctuality,
and order. Herbart wonders what will become of the bad boy if he is
expelled. The modern answer is, he will be sent to the reform school
or to the truant school. The teacher still stands as of old at the
point of contact between the institution and the individual; nor can
he entirely escape the heat generated at times by such contact, but,
after all, it is society that now supplies the pressure formerly
exerted by will and birch. The teacher is now more of a mediator
between the pupil and the organized community, than an avenger of
broken law.
SECTION II
INSTRUCTION
CHAPTER I
=The Relation of Instruction to Government and Training=
56. Instruction furnishes a part of those occupations which lie at the
basis of government; how large a part depends on circumstances.
Children must be kept employed at all events, because idleness leads to
misbehavior and lawlessness. Now if the employment consists of useful
labor, say in the workshop or on the farm, so much the better. Better
still, if the work teaches the child something that will contribute
to his further education. But not all employment is instruction; and
in cases where the mere government of children is a difficult matter,
lessons are not always the most adequate employment. Many a growing boy
will be taught orderly conduct much sooner when placed with a mechanic
or merchant or farmer than in school. The scope of government is wider
than that of instruction.
Teachers of manual training everywhere testify to the quieting effect
of directed physical labor upon stormy spirits. Even a truant school
or a school for incorrigibles becomes an attractive place to the
inmates when adequate provision is made for the exercise of the motor
powers. Most children can be controlled through mental occupation,
but there are some to whom motor activity is indispensable. That a
judicious apportionment of sensory and motor activity would favorably
affect the development of all children is not to be questioned.
57. Instruction and training have this in common, that each makes for
education and hence for the future, while government provides for the
present. A distinction should, however, be made here. Instruction is
far from being always educative or pedagogical. Where acquisition of
wealth and external success or strong personal preference supply the
motives for study, no heed is paid to the question: What will be the
gain or loss to character? One actuated by such motives sets out, such
as he is, to learn one thing or another, no matter whether for good or
bad or for indifferent ends; to him the best teacher is he who imparts
_tuto, cito, jucunde_, the proficiency desired. Instruction of this
kind is excluded from our discussion; we are concerned here only with
instruction that educates in the moral sense of the term.
58. Man’s worth does not, it is true, lie in his knowing, but in his
willing. But there is no such thing as an independent faculty of
will. Volition has its roots in thought; not, indeed, in the details
one knows, but certainly in the combinations and total effect of
the acquired ideas. The same reason, therefore, which in psychology
accounts for considering the formation of ideas first, and then desire
and volition, necessitates a corresponding order in pedagogics: first
the theory of instruction, then that of training.
=Note.=--Formerly, strange to say, no distinction was made between
government and training, although it is obvious that the immediate
present demands attention more urgently than does the future.
Still less was instruction given its true place. The greater or
smaller amount of knowledge, regarded as a matter of secondary
importance in comparison with personal culture, was taken up last.
The treatment of education as the development of character preceded
that of instruction, just as though the former could be realized
without the latter. During the last decades, however, a demand
has arisen for greater activity on the part of schools, primarily
the higher schools. Humanistic studies are to bestow humanity, or
culture. It has come to be understood that the human being is more
easily approached from the side of knowledge than from the side of
moral sentiments and disposition. Furthermore, examinations might
be set on the former, but not on the latter. Now the time for
instruction was found to be too limited--a want that the old Latin
schools had felt but little. This led to discussions as to the
relative amount due each branch of study. We shall treat chiefly
of the correlation of studies, for whatever remains isolated is of
little significance.
59. In educative teaching, the mental activity incited by it is all
important. This activity instruction is to increase, not to lessen; to
ennoble, not to debase.
=Note.=--A diminution of mental activity ensues, when, because
of much study and of sitting--especially at all sorts of written
work, often useless--physical growth is interfered with in a way
sooner or later to the injury of health. Hence the encouragement
given in recent years to gymnastic exercises, which may, however,
become too violent. Deterioration sets in when knowledge is
made subservient to ostentation and external advantages--the
objectionable feature of many public examinations. Schools ought
not to be called upon to display all they accomplish. By such
methods instruction not only works against its own true end, but
also conflicts with training, whose aim for the whole future of the
pupil is--_mens sana in corpore sano_.
60. If all mental activity were of only one kind, the subject-matter
of instruction would be of no consequence. But we need not go beyond
experience to see that the opposite is true, that there is a great
diversity of intellectual endowment. Yet while instruction must thus be
differentiated, it should not be made so special as to cultivate only
the more prominent gifts; otherwise the pupil’s less vigorous mental
functions would be wholly neglected and perhaps suppressed. Instruction
must rather be manifold, and its manifoldness being the same for many
pupils in so far as it may help to correct inequalities in mental
tendencies.
Not only is subject-matter to be varied on account of mental
diversity, but also for social reasons as well. For an enlargement of
this theme, see the annotation to paragraph 65.
61. What is to be taught and learned is, accordingly, not left for
caprice and conventionality to decide. In this respect instruction
differs in a striking manner from government, for which, if only
idleness is prevented, it hardly matters what work children are given
to do.
=Note.=--Children are sent to school from many homes simply because
they are in the way and their parents do not wish them to be idle.
The school is regarded as an institution whose chief function is to
govern, but which incidentally also imparts useful knowledge. Here
there is a lack of insight into the nature of true mental culture;
teachers, on the contrary, sometimes forget that they are giving
pupils work, and that work should not exceed reasonable limits.
CHAPTER II
=The Aim of Instruction=
62. The ultimate purpose of instruction is contained in the notion,
virtue. But in order to realize the final aim, another and nearer one
must be set up. We may term it, _many-sidedness of interest_. The
word _interest_ stands in general for that kind of mental activity
which it is the business of instruction to incite. Mere information
does not suffice; for this we think of as a supply or store of facts,
which a person might possess or lack, and still remain the same being.
But he who lays hold of his information and reaches out for more,
takes an interest in it. Since, however, this mental activity, is
varied (60), we need to add the further determination supplied by the
term _many-sidedness_.
It has been pointed out[3] what the content of the word _virtue_
must be, if this word is to be an adequate expression for the
ultimate purpose of instruction. Virtue must embrace not only what
is purely individual, or subjective, such as piety and humaneness
of disposition, but it must likewise include what is objective,
or social, in conduct. This fact lends a new significance to the
doctrine of interest, for though a normal child is not naturally
interested in introspective analysis of his feelings, he is
spontaneously interested in what is objective and within the range
of his experience. The enterprises of his mates, the regulations of
his school or home, the erection of houses, the introduction of new
machinery, the social doings of the neighborhood, the havoc created
by the elements, the prominent features of the changing year--all
these claim his closest attention. The common school studies deal
with these very things. Literature (reading) and history reveal
to him the conduct of men; the one considering it ideally, the
other historically. Mathematics teaches the mastery of material
when considered quantitatively, whether in trade or manufacture or
construction. Nature studies bring the child into intimate touch with
the significant in his natural environment. Geography shows him the
most obvious features of the industrial activity about him. It shows
him the chief conditions of production in crops and manufactures; it
also gives him hints of the great business of commerce. In all these
studies, the natural inclinations of the mind are directly appealed
to. Not a little of the importance of the doctrine of interest in
instruction depends upon these facts; for both the insight and the
disposition that instruction is capable of imparting to the pupil
relates specifically to the objective side of his character, the one
most in need of development and most susceptible of it.
[3] Paragraphs 8–15.
63. We may speak also of indirect as distinguished from direct
interest. But a predominance of indirect interest tends to
one-sidedness, if not to selfishness. The interest of the selfish
man in anything extends only so far as he can see advantages
or disadvantages to himself. In this respect the one-sided man
approximates the selfish man, although the fact may escape his own
observation; since he relates everything to the narrow sphere for
which he lives and thinks. Here lies his intellectual power, and
whatever does not interest him as means to his limited ends, becomes an
impediment.
It is important for the teacher to see the full scope of the doctrine
of interest in its relation to effort. In Herbart’s psychology it
assumes a most important place, since the primacy of mental life is,
in this system, ascribed to _ideas_. In other systems, notably those
of Kant, Schopenhauer, Von Hartmann, Paulsen, primacy is ascribed to
the will, first in unconscious or subconscious striving, later in
conscious volition. This fundamental difference in standpoint will
account for the emphasis laid now upon _interest_, now upon _effort_.
Herbart conceives that conscious feelings, desires, motives, and the
like have their source in ideas, and that volition in turn arises
from the various emotional states aroused by the ideas. Interest
with him thus becomes a permanent or ever renewed, ever changing,
ever growing desire for the accomplishment of certain ends. It is,
consequently, a direct, necessary stimulus to the will. Systems,
however, that regard the will as the primary factor in mental life,
conceiving of ideas only as a means for revealing more clearly the
ends of volition, together with the best methods of reaching them,
are naturally prone to place the emphasis upon _effort_, leaving to
interest but a secondary or quite incidental function. Dr. John Dewey
has attempted to reconcile these two views.[4] Interest and effort
are complementary, not opposing ideas. To emphasize one at the
expense of the other, is to assume that the ends for which we act lie
quite outside of our personality, so that these ends would, on the
one hand, have to be _made_ interesting, or, on the other, struggled
for without regard to interest. This assumption is an error. The ends
for which we strive must be conceived as internal, our efforts being
regarded as attempts at self-realization in definite directions. The
purpose of our action is therefore an end desired. In this we have
an interest surely. As an educational doctrine, however, interest
concerns chiefly the means of reaching these ends. If interest in
the means is wanting, the child works with a _divided attention_. He
gives only so much to the means as he must; the remainder is devoted
to his own affairs,--the past or coming ball-game, the picnic, the
walk in the woods, the private enterprises of home or school. But if
a lively interest is felt in the means to the end, then the whole
self is actively employed for the time being in the accomplishment of
the purpose of the hour. The attention is no longer divided, it is
concentrated upon the matter in hand. This in the school is _work_.
When the attention is divided we have drudgery. This signifies that
the interest felt in the end, say a dollar, is not felt in the means
of attaining it, say a day’s labor. However inevitable drudgery may
be in life, it should have no place in the schoolroom. The teacher
must so present the studies that the pupil can perceive at least a
fraction of their bearing upon life. This awakens an interest in them
as ends. He must, then, by conformity to the psychological order of
learning, by enthusiasm and ingenuity, so teach the subjects that
the natural interest in the end will be constantly enhanced through
a lively interest in the daily lesson as the means of reaching it.
The result is unified attention, zeal in the pursuit of knowledge,
hospitality for ethical ideals.
[4] “Interest as Related to the Will,” second supplement to the Herbart
Year Book, revised and reprinted, Chicago University Press, 1899.
64. As regards the bearings of interest on virtue, we need to remember
that many-sidedness of interest alone, even of direct interest such as
instruction is to engender, is yet far from being identical with virtue
itself; also that, conversely, the weaker the original mental activity,
the less likelihood that virtue will be realized at all, not to speak
of the variety of manifestation possible in action. Imbeciles cannot be
virtuous. Virtue involves an awakening of mind.
The conception, that by awakening many-sided direct interest in the
studies we can powerfully affect character, is perhaps peculiar to
the thought of Herbart. Yet when we consider that the knowledge
taught in the school goes to the root of every vital human relation,
that, in other words, the studies may be made instruments for
progressively revealing to the child his place and function in the
world, it follows as a necessary consequence, that to interest the
pupil thoroughly in these branches of learning, is to work at the
foundation of his character, so far, at least, as insight into duty
and disposition to do it are concerned. Even if interest in ethical
things is not of itself virtue, it is an important means for securing
virtue. This idea adds to the teacher’s resources for the development
of character. It also opens up to him a new realm for research. All
literature, history, science, mathematics, geography, language, may
be examined from this new standpoint, both with respect to selection
and to methods of presentation. Select the portions that pertain
intimately to life; teach them so that their important bearing upon
it may be seen.
=Note.=--As has been stated already (17), the most immediate of
the practical ideas demanding recognition from the teacher is the
idea of perfection. Now, with reference to this idea, three factors
are to be considered: the intensity, the range, the unification of
intellectual effort. Intensity is implied in the word _interest_;
extension is connoted by many-sidedness; what is meant by
unification will be briefly indicated in the next paragraph.
65. Scattering no less than one-sidedness forms an antithesis to
many-sidedness. Many-sidedness is to be the basis of virtue; but
the latter is an attribute of personality, hence it is evident that
the unity of self-consciousness must not be impaired. The business
of instruction is to form the person on many sides, and accordingly
to avoid a distracting or dissipating effect. And instruction has
successfully avoided this in the case of one who with ease surveys his
well-arranged knowledge _in all of its unifying relations_ and holds it
together as _his very own_.
This section points to the correlation of studies, a subject to
be considered hereafter in detail. It also throws light upon the
modern system of elective courses or elective studies in secondary
and higher education. The teachable subjects have now become so
numerous that election is imperative unless what is to be taught is
determined arbitrarily without regard to the needs or inclinations of
students. Furthermore, election is made imperative by the fact that
the higher education is now open to all minds of all social classes,
and that differentiated industry calls for many kinds of education.
But the need for mental symmetry, no less imperative now than in the
past, is reinforced by the need for social symmetry. Education must
put the student into sympathetic touch with the whole of life, not
a mere segment of it. Since many-sidedness cannot be interpreted
to mean knowledge of all subjects, this being impossible, it must
be interpreted to mean knowledge of all departments of learning.
Election may be permitted to emphasize departments of study, but
not to ignore them entirely. There are four or more languages worth
teaching, many departments of history, numerous sciences, and various
branches of mathematics, not to speak of the economic, political,
and social sciences. Enough of each department being given to insure
intelligent sympathy with the aspect of civilization it presents,
the student may be allowed to place the emphasis upon such groups of
studies as best conserve his tastes, his ability, and his destination
in life.
CHAPTER III
=The Conditions of Many-sidedness=
66. It becomes obvious at once that a many-sided culture cannot be
brought about quickly. The requisite store of ideas is acquired only
by successive efforts; but unification, a view of the whole, and
assimilation are to be attained besides (65), whence an alternation, in
time, of absorption and reflection. The apprehension of the manifold is
of necessity a gradual process, and the same is true of the unification
of knowledge.
In _absorption_ the mind surrenders itself to the acquisition or
contemplation of facts. Thus a child will stand in open-eyed wonder
at beholding a novel spectacle, the scientist becomes absorbed in
watching the outcome of a new experiment, the philosopher loses
consciousness to all about him in the unfolding of some new train
of thought. Not only may absorption concern momentary experiences,
but it may in a broad way be said to cover considerable periods
of life, as, for instance, when a student becomes absorbed in the
mastery of foreign languages having no immediate relation to his
daily life. _Reflection_ is the assimilation of the knowledge gained
by absorption. The mind, recovering from its absorption in what
is external, relates its new-found experience to the sum of its
former experiences. New items of knowledge in this way find their
appropriate places in the organic structure of the mind. They are
apperceived. The many-sided thus comes to unity.
Rosenkranz calls absorption and reflection, _self-estrangement_ and
its _removal_. “All culture,” he says, “whatever may be its special
purport, must pass through these two stages,--of estrangement,
and its removal.” Again, he says, “The mind is (1) immediate (or
potential); but (2) it must estrange itself from itself, as it were,
so that it may place itself over against itself as a special object
of attention; (3) this estrangement is finally removed through a
further acquaintance with the object ... it feels itself at home in
that on which it looks, and returns again enriched to the form of
immediateness (to unity with itself). That which at first appeared
to be another than itself is now seen to be itself.”[5] This is an
abstract statement of the fact that (1) in learning the mind becomes
absorbed for a time in external objects, ignoring temporarily their
inner meaning and relation to self, and (2) this period of absorption
is succeeded by one of reflection, in which the mind perceives
the significance of what has been observed, noting the laws and
principles underlying the phenomena and thus assimilating them to
what it conceives to be rational.
Owing to the fact that absorption and reflection may refer to very
short and also to comparatively long periods, they may be studied
with respect to their bearing in conducting recitations, and to their
importance in fixing courses of study. The former aspect of the two
processes will in this connection chiefly occupy our attention.
[5] “Philosophy of Education,” pp. 27, 28, New York, D. Appleton & Co.
67. Some teachers lay great stress on the explication, step by step, of
the smaller and smallest components of the subject, and insist on a
similar reproduction on the part of the pupils. Others prefer to teach
by conversation, and allow themselves and their pupils great freedom of
expression. Others, again, call especially for the leading thoughts,
but demand that these be given with accuracy and precision, and in the
prescribed order. Others, finally, are not satisfied until their pupils
are self-actively exercising their minds in systematic thinking.
Various methods of teaching may thus arise; it is not necessary,
however, that one should be habitually employed to the exclusion of
the rest. We may ask rather whether each does not contribute its share
to a many-sided culture. In order that a multitude of facts may be
apprehended, explications or analyses are needed to prevent confusion;
but since a synthesis is equally essential, the latter process may
be started by conversation, continued by lifting into prominence the
cardinal thoughts, and completed by the methodical independent thinking
of the pupil: _clearness_, _association_, _system_, _method_.
In teaching we need to have (1) _clearness_ in the presentation
of specific facts, or the elements of what is to be mastered;
(2) _association_ of these facts with one another, and with other
related facts formerly acquired, in order that assimilation, or
apperception, may be adequately complete; (3) when sufficient facts
have been clearly presented and sufficiently assimilated, they must
be _systematically_ ordered, so that our knowledge will be more
perfectly unified than it could be did we stop short of thorough
classification, as in the study of botany, or of the perception of
rules and principles, as in mathematics and grammar; (4) finally the
facts, rules, principles, and classifications thus far assumed must
be secured for all time by their efficient _methodical_ application
in exercises that call forth the vigorous self-activity of the
pupil. These four stages of teaching may be considered fundamental,
though varying greatly according to the nature of the subject and
the ability of the pupil. It is good exercise for a pupil to take
long, rapid steps when able to do so; it is hopeless confusion to
undertake them when they are too great or too rapid for his capacity.
These four stages in methods of teaching conceived to be essential,
form the nucleus of an interesting development in the Herbartian
school, under the title of “The Formal [_i.e._ Essential] Steps
of Instruction.” The leading ideas will be further described in a
subsequent paragraph (70).
68. On closer inspection we find that instead of being mutually
exclusive, these various modes of instruction are requisite, one by
one, in the order given above, for every group, small or large, of
subjects to be taught.
For, first, the beginner is able to advance but slowly. For him the
shortest steps are the safest steps. He must stop at each point as
long as is necessary to make him apprehend distinctly each individual
fact. To this he must give his whole thought. During the initial stage,
the teacher’s art consists, therefore, preëminently in knowing how to
resolve his subject into very small parts. In this way he will avoid
taking sudden leaps without being aware that he is doing so.
Secondly, association cannot be effected solely by a systematic mode
of treatment, least of all at first. In the system each part has
its own fixed place. At this place it is connected directly with
the nearest other parts, but also separated from other more remote
parts by a definite distance, and connected with these only by way of
determinate intervening members, or links. Besides, the nature of this
connection is not the same everywhere. Furthermore, a system is not to
be learned merely. It is to be used, applied, and often needs to be
supplemented by additions inserted in appropriate places. To be able
to do this requires skill in diverting one’s thoughts from any given
starting-point to every other point, forward, backward, sideways. Hence
two things are requisite; preparation for the system, and application
of the system. Preparation is involved in association; exercise in
systematic thinking must follow.
69. During the first stage, when the clear apprehension of the
individual object or fact is the main thing, the shortest and most
familiar words and sentences are the most appropriate. The teacher will
often find it advisable also to have some, if not all, of the pupils
repeat them accurately after him. As is well known, even speaking in
concert has been tried in many schools not entirely without success,
and for young beginners this method may indeed at times answer very
well.
For association, the best mode of procedure is informal conversation,
because it gives the pupil an opportunity to test and to change the
accidental union of his thoughts, to multiply the links of connection,
and to assimilate, after his own fashion, what he has learned. It
enables him, besides, to do at least a part of all this in any way that
happens to be the easiest and most convenient. He will thus escape the
inflexibility of thought that results from a purely systematic learning.
System, on the other hand, calls for a more connected discourse,
and the period of presentation must be separated more sharply from
the period of repetition. By exhibiting and emphasizing the leading
principles, system impresses upon the minds of pupils the value of
organized knowledge; through its greater completeness it enriches their
store of information. But pupils are incapable of appreciating either
advantage when the systematic presentation is introduced too early.
Skill in systematic thinking the pupil will obtain through the solution
of assigned tasks, his own independent attempts, and their correction.
For such work will show whether he has fully grasped the general
principles, and whether he is able to recognize them in and apply them
to particulars.
70. These remarks on the initial analysis and the subsequent gradual
uniting of the matter taught, hold true, in general and in detail, of
the most diverse objects and branches of instruction. Much remains to
be added, however, to define with precision the application of these
principles to a given subject and to the age of the pupil. It will
suffice, for the present, if we remind ourselves that instruction
provides a portion of the occupations necessary to government (56).
Now, instruction produces fatigue in proportion to its duration; more
or less, of course, according to individual differences. But the more
fatiguing it is, the less it accomplishes as employment. This fact
alone shows clearly the necessity of intermissions and change of
work. If the pupil has become actually tired, that is, has not lost
merely inclination to work, this feeling must be allowed, as far as
is practicable, to pass away, at any rate to diminish, before the
same subject is resumed in a somewhat modified form. In order to have
time enough for this, the systematic presentation must in many cases
be postponed until long after the first lessons in the elements have
begun, and conversely, the rudiments of a subject frequently have to be
at least touched upon long before connected instruction can be thought
of. Many a principle needs to be approached from a great distance.
Herbart found his basis for the four steps of method, viz.
_clearness_, _association_, _system_, _method_, in the ideas of
absorption and reflection, the alternate pulsation of consciousness
in absorbing and assimilating knowledge. Others, adopting this
classification as essentially correct, have related these steps to
customary psychological analysis. Thus Dörpfeld and Wiget point
out that the mind goes through three well-marked processes when it
performs the complete act of learning, namely, _perception_ of new
facts; _thought_, or the bringing of ideas into logical relations;
and _application_, or the exercise of the motor activities of the
mind in putting knowledge into use. Perception gives the _percept_,
thought gives the _conception_ (or rule, principle, generalization),
and application gives _power_. In other words, the receptive and
reflective capacities of the mind come to their full fruition when
they result in adequate motor activities. With respect to perception
a good method will first _prepare_ the mind for facts and will then
_present_ them so that they may be apperceived. The first two steps
are therefore _preparation_ and _presentation_. The first step, as
Ziller pointed out, is essentially _analytic_ in character, since it
analyzes the present store of consciousness in order to bring facts
to the front that are closely related to those of the present lesson;
the second step, _i.e._, presentation, is essentially _synthetic_,
since its function is to add the matter of the new lesson to related
knowledge already in possession. Both together constitute the initial
stages of apperception.
_Thought_ consists of two processes that may also be termed steps,
and that are more or less observable in all good teaching; they are
(1) the _association_ of newly apperceived facts with one another and
with older and more firmly established ideas in order that rational
connection may be established in what one knows, and especially
in order that what is general and essential in given facts may be
grasped by the mind; and (2) the condensation of knowledge into a
_system_, such for instance as we see in the classifications of
botany and zoölogy, or in the interdependence of principles as in
arithmetic. Thought, in brief, involves the association of ideas and
the derivation of generalizations such as are appropriate to the
matter in hand and to the thought power of the pupils.
The third stage, that of _application_, is not subdivided. Most
other followers of Herbart, both German and American, though varying
in methods of approach, conform essentially to the results of this
analysis, distinguishing _five_ steps, as follows:--
1. Preparation--Analysis }
2. Presentation--Synthesis } Apperception of percepts.
3. Association } Thought. The derivation and arrangement
4. Systemization } of rule, principle, or class.
5. Application. From knowing to doing: use of motor powers.
The reader is referred to the following-named works for extended
discussion of this topic: McMurray, “General Method”; DeGarmo,
“Essentials of Method”; Lange, “Apperception,” pp. 200–245; Rein
(Van Liew’s translation), “Outlines of Pedagogy”; Herbart (Felkins’
translation), “Science of Education”; McMurray, C. A. & F. M., “The
Method of the Recitation.” A comparative view of the treatment of
the Steps of Instruction by various authors is found in Van Liew’s
translation of Rein’s “Outlines of Pedagogy,” p. 145.
CHAPTER IV
=The Conditions Determining Interest=
71. Interest means self-activity. The demand for a many-sided interest
is, therefore, a demand for many-sided self-activity. But not all
self-activity, only the right degree of the right kind, is desirable;
else lively children might very well be left to themselves. There would
be no need of educating or even of governing them. It is the purpose
of instruction to give the right _direction_ to their thoughts and
impulses, to incline these toward the morally good and true. Children
are thus in a measure passive. But this passivity should by no means
involve suppression of self-activity. It should, on the contrary, imply
a stimulation of all that is best in the child.
At this point a psychological distinction becomes necessary, namely,
that between designedly reproduced, or “given,” and spontaneous
representations. In recitations of what has been learned we have an
example of the former; the latter appear in the games and fancies of
children. A method of study that issues in mere reproduction leaves
children largely in a passive state, for it crowds out for the time
being the thoughts they would otherwise have had. In games, however,
and in the free play of fancy, and accordingly also in that kind of
instruction which finds an echo here, free activity predominates.
This distinction is not intended to affirm the existence of two
compartments in which the ideas, separated once for all, would, of
necessity, have to remain. Ideas that must by effort be raised into
consciousness because they do not rise spontaneously, may become
spontaneous by gradual strengthening. But this development we cannot
count on unless instruction, advancing step by step, bring it about.
Interest must be conceived as self-propulsive activity toward an
end. It is a part of the teacher’s function to assist the pupil in
making the appropriate ideas strong and spontaneous. Occasionally
a mere suggestion will change the whole mental attitude toward an
end and the means for reaching it. A student one day approached his
instructor with this query: “How can I get through this study with
the least expenditure of time and effort?” The desired answer was
first given. The instructor then remarked that there was another way
of viewing the matter, viz., that one might consider how to get the
_most_ rather than the _least_ out of the study. He then briefly
unfolded its nature and possibilities, whereupon the student became
one of the most interested members of the class. He had come with
only an indirect interest in the subject as an end; he regarded the
study as a required task and the means of passing upon it as so much
drudgery; but he so changed his attitude toward it, that the study
became an end personally desired, and the daily effort a pleasurable
exercise of his self-directed power of thought. The interest that
the instructor had aroused in the end was transferred to the means.
72. It is the teacher’s business, while giving instruction, to observe
whether the ideas of his pupils rise spontaneously or not. If they do,
the pupils are said to be attentive; the lesson has won their interest.
If not, attention is, indeed, not always wholly gone. It may, moreover,
be enforced for a time before actual fatigue sets in. But doubt arises
whether instruction can effect a future interest in the same subjects.
Attention is a factor of such importance to education as to call for a
more detailed treatment.
73. Attention may be broadly defined as an attitude of mind in which
there is readiness to form new ideas. Such readiness is either
voluntary or involuntary. If voluntary, it depends on a resolution;
the teacher frequently secures this through admonitions or threats.
Far more desirable and fruitful is involuntary attention. It is this
attention that the art of teaching must seek to induce. Herein lies the
kind of interest to be sought by the teacher.
_Forced_ and _spontaneous_ are more truly expressive terms than
_voluntary_ and _involuntary_ in this connection. It is not meant
that interested activity is _against_ the will, or even indifferent
to it. On the contrary, it is a form of activity that calls every
resource of the mind into full play. The will is never so promptly
active as when it is doing the things in which it is most interested;
it is, however, a _spontaneous_, not a _forced_ activity.
There is, as Dr. John Dewey points out,[6] a contradiction between
Herbart’s Pedagogy and his Psychology, as follows: the Pedagogy
regards interest as the lever of education, the means for securing
spontaneous activity of mind; the Psychology regards interest as a
feeling arising from the relation of ideas. Ideas must therefore be
_given_, in right relations, to arouse interest, while interest is in
turn conceived as the means of arousing them. This is reasoning in a
circle. The difficulty arises from asserting the primacy of ideas in
mental life, and then speaking of _self-activity_, which presupposes
the primacy of motor, or impulsive activities. The reader will avoid
all contradictions in educational theory by accepting the modern
view of the primacy, not of ideas, but of what may broadly be termed
_will_. The latter view is in accord with biological and historical
science. Ideas are a later production of mind; they serve to define
more clearly the ends for which we work, at the same time giving us
insight into the best means of attaining them. For an interesting
discussion of the primacy of the will, the reader is referred to
Professor Paulsen’s “Introduction to Philosophy,” pp. 111–122.[7]
[6] “Interest as Related to Will,” pp. 237–241, Second Supplement to
First Herbart Year Book.
[7] Henry Holt & Co., New York, 1895.
74. Involuntary [spontaneous] attention is subdivided into primitive
and apperceiving. The latter especially is of the greatest importance
in teaching, but it rests on the former, the conditions of which must
constantly be taken into account.
Apperception, or assimilation, takes place through the reproduction of
previously acquired ideas and their union with the new element, the
most energetic apperception, although not necessarily the best, being
effected by the ideas rising spontaneously. This topic will be treated
more fully below (77). Here it suffices to say that the apperceiving
attention obviously presupposes the primitive attention; otherwise
apperceiving ideas would never have been formed.
The psychological and educational importance of the idea of
apperception, or the assimilation of knowledge, has been much
emphasized in recent years. For a psychological interpretation of
the theory, the reader is referred to Wundt’s “Human and Animal
Psychology,”[8] pp. 235–251. The educational significance of the
doctrine has been well brought out by Dr. Karl Lange, in his able
monograph on “Apperception.”[9] The subject has been more popularly
treated in Dr. McMurray’s “General Method,”[10] and in the writer’s
“Essentials of Method”[11]; also in a number of other works.
[8] New York, Macmillan & Co., 1894.
[9] Boston, D. C. Heath & Co., 1894.
[10] Bloomington, Ill., Public School Pub. Co., 1894.
[11] Boston, D. C. Heath & Co., 1893.
75. The primitive or original attention depends primarily on the
strength of the sense-impression. Bright colors and loud speaking are
more easily noticed than dark colors and low tones. It would be an
error, however, to infer that the strongest sense-perceptions are at
the same time the most adequate. These quickly blunt the receptivity,
while weak sense-impressions may, in the course of time, engender
ideation as energetic as that produced by originally obtrusive
perceptions. For this reason, a middle course must be chosen from
the first. For children, however, the direct sense-perception, even
of a picture, if the object itself is not to be had, is altogether
preferable to mere description.
The presence in the minds of children of ideas--those supplied by
instruction itself not excepted--contrary to the new representations to
be mastered, acts as a hindrance or check. This very fact explains why
clearness of apprehension is not gained where instruction piles up one
thing upon another in too rapid succession. It is essential, therefore,
in the case of beginners, so to single out each fact, to separate
part from part, and to proceed step by step, that apprehension may be
rendered easy for them.
A second hindrance to attention is of a more temporary character, but
may nevertheless work much mischief. It makes a vast difference whether
the ideas aroused are in a state of equilibrium or not. Long sentences
in speech and in books are less easily apprehended than short ones.
They excite a movement of many albeit connected thoughts, which do not
at once subside into their proper places. Now, just as in reading and
writing pauses must be observed, which is done more easily in short
than in long sentences, instruction in general must have its chosen
stopping-places and resting-points at which the child may tarry as
long as may be necessary. Otherwise the accumulation of thoughts will
become excessive, crowding in upon what follows, and this upon the next
new element, until finally the pupils arrive at a state where they no
longer hear anything.
76. The four essentials then for primitive attention are: strength
of sense-impression, economy of receptivity, avoidance of harmful
antitheses to existing ideas, and delay until the aroused ideas have
recovered their equilibrium. But in actual teaching it will be found
difficult to do justice to all of these requirements simultaneously.
Sameness of presentation should not be carried too far lest the child’s
receptivity be taxed too heavily. Monotony produces weariness. But a
sudden change of subject frequently discloses the fact that the new is
too remote from what has preceded, and that the old thoughts refuse
to give way. If the change is delayed too long the lesson drags. Too
little variety causes ennui. The pupils begin to think of something
else, and with that their attention is gone completely.
The teacher should by all means study literary masterpieces for
the purpose of learning from great authors how they escaped these
difficulties. That he may strike the right chord in the earlier stages
of instruction, he should turn particularly to simple popular writers,
Homer, for example, whose story-telling is, on the other hand, too
general and _naïve_ for older pupils who have lost the power to put
themselves back into a past period of culture. Yet it is safe to
say in general, that classic writers seldom take sudden leaps and
never stand still entirely. Their method of unfolding consists in a
scarcely perceptible, at any rate an always easy, advance. They dwell,
indeed, long on the same thought, but nevertheless achieve, little
by little, most powerful contrasts. Poor writers, on the contrary,
pile up the most glaring antitheses without other than the natural
result--the antagonistic ideas expel each other and the mind is left
empty. The same result threatens the teacher who aims at brilliancy of
presentation.
77. The apperceiving, or assimilating, attention (74), though not the
first in time, is yet observed very early. It shows itself when little
children catch and repeat aloud single, familiar words of an otherwise
unintelligible conversation between adults; when a little later they
name, in their own way, the well-known objects that they come upon in
their picture-books; when later still, while learning to read, they
pick out from the book single names coinciding with their recollection;
and so on in innumerable other instances. From within ideas are
suddenly bursting forth to unite with whatever similar elements present
themselves. Now this apperceiving activity must be exercised constantly
in all instruction. For instruction is given in words only; the ideas
constituting their meaning must be supplied by the hearer. But words
are not meant to be understood merely; they are intended to elicit
interest. And this requires a higher grade and greater facility of
apperception.
Universally popular poems do not produce their pleasing effect by
teaching something new. They portray what is already known and utter
what every one feels. Ideas already possessed are aroused, expanded,
condensed, and consequently put in order and strengthened. On the other
hand, when defects are apperceived, _e.g._, misprints, grammatical
blunders, faulty drawings, false notes, etc., the successive unfolding
of the series of ideas is interrupted so that their interlacing cannot
take place properly. Here we see how instruction must proceed and what
it must avoid in order to secure interest.
=Note.=--The apperceiving attention is of so great importance in
instruction that a word or two more will be in place. The highest
stage of this kind of attention is indicated by the words--gaze,
scrutinize, listen, handle. The idea of the examined object is
already present in consciousness, as is likewise the idea of the
class of sense-perceptions looked for. The psychic result turns on
the ensuing sense-impressions, on their contrasts, combinations,
and reproductions. These are able to induce the corresponding
mental states unhindered, because disturbing foreign elements
have already been removed and remain excluded. Passing from this
highest grade to lower degrees of attention, we find that the idea
of the object is not yet--at least not prominently--present, that
this itself first needs to be reproduced and made more vivid. The
question arises whether this can be accomplished directly or only
indirectly. In the former case the idea must be in itself strong
enough; in the second it must be sufficiently united with other
ideas which it is possible to arouse directly. Moreover, the
obstacles to reproduction must be such that they can be overcome.
When the apperceiving attention is once under way, it should be
utilized and not disturbed. The teaching must take the promised
direction until it has satisfied expectation. The solutions must
correspond clearly to the problems. Everything must be connected.
The attention is disturbed by untimely pauses and the presence of
extraneous matter. It is also disturbed by apperceptions that bring
into light that which should remain in shadow. This is true of
words and phrases too often repeated, of mannerisms of speech--of
everything that gives prominence to the language at the expense
of the subject-matter, even rhymes, verse-forms, and rhetorical
adornment when used in the wrong place.
But that which is too simple must be avoided also. In this case the
apperception is soon completed; it does not give enough to do. The
fullest unit possible is to be sought.
A rule of vital importance is that, before setting his pupils at
work, the teacher should take them into the field of ideas wherein
their work is to be done. He can accomplish this at the beginning
of a recitation hour by means of a brief outline view of the ground
to be covered in the lesson or lecture.
78. Instruction is to supplement that which has been gained already by
experience and by intercourse with others (36); these foundations must
exist when instruction begins. If they are wanting, they must be firmly
established first. Any deficiency here means a loss to instruction,
because the pupils lack the thoughts which they need in order to
interpret the words of the teacher.
In the same way, knowledge derived from earlier lessons must be
extended and deepened by subsequent instruction. This presupposes such
an organization of the whole work of instruction that that which comes
later shall always find present the earlier knowledge with which it is
to be united.
79. Ordinarily, because their eyes are fixed solely on the facts to
be learned, teachers concern themselves little with the ideas already
possessed by the pupils. Consequently they make an effort in behalf
of the necessary attention only when it is failing and progress is
checked. Now they have recourse to voluntary attention (73), and to
obtain this rely on inducements, or, more often, on reprimands and
penalties. Indirect interest is thus substituted for direct interest,
with the result that the resolution of the pupil to be attentive fails
to effect energetic apprehension and realizes but little coherence. It
wavers constantly, and often enough gives way to disgust.
In the most favorable case, if instruction is thorough, _i.e._,
scientific, a foundation of elementary knowledge is gradually laid
sufficiently solid for later years to build on; in other words, out
of the elementary knowledge an apperceiving mass is created in the
mind of the pupil which will aid him in his future studies. There may
be several of such masses; but each constitutes by itself its own
kind of one-sided learning, and it is after all doubtful whether even
here direct interest is implied. For there is small hope that this
interest will be aroused in the youth when the years of boyhood have
been devoted merely to the mastering of preliminary knowledge. The
prospects of future station and calling are opening before him and the
examinations are at hand.
80. The fact should not be overlooked, however, that even the
best method cannot secure an adequate degree of apperceiving
attention (75–78) from every pupil; recourse must accordingly be had to
the voluntary attention, _i.e._, the pupil’s resolution. But for the
necessary measures the teacher must depend, not merely on rewards and
punishments, but chiefly on habit and custom. Instruction unites at
this point with government and training. In all cases where the pupil
begins his work not entirely without compulsion, it is particularly
important that he should soon become aware of his own progress. The
several steps must be distinctly and suitably pointed out to him; they
must at the same time be easy of execution and succeed each other
slowly. The instruction should be given with accuracy, even strictness,
seriousness, and patience.
81. The voluntary attention is most frequently demanded for memorizing,
for which, apart from all else, the presence of interest is not always
a perfectly favorable condition. This is true even of spontaneous
interest, for the ideas that rise spontaneously have a movement of
their own, which by deviating from the given sequence may lead to
surreptitious substitutions. Like observation, intentional memorizing
presupposes a certain amount of self-control. At this point a question
arises as to the proper place of learning by heart.
Committing to memory is very necessary; use is made of it in every
department of knowledge. But memorizing should never be the first thing
except when it is done without effort. For if the memorizing of new
matter, which the pupil cannot as yet have associated incorrectly,
costs him an effort, it is plain that the single presentations
encounter some opposition or other by which they are repelled too
quickly for their mutual association to take place. The teacher must
in this case talk the subject over first, set the pupil to work upon
it, make him more familiar with it, and must sometimes even wait for a
more opportune moment. Where clearness in single perceptions and their
association (67 _et seq._) are still deficient, these must be attended
to first of all. After the ideas have been strengthened in this way,
memorizing will be accomplished more easily.
The assigned series should not be too long. Three foreign words
are often more than enough. Many pupils have to be shown how to
memorize. Left to themselves they will begin over and over again,
then halt, and try in vain to go on. A fundamental rule is that the
starting-point be shifted. If, for example, the name Methuselah
is to be learned, the teacher would, perhaps, say successively:
lah,--selah,--thuselah,--Methuselah.
Some have to be warned against trying to get through quickly. We have
to do here with a physical mechanism which requires time and whose
operation the pupil himself as little as the teacher should endeavor to
over-accelerate. Slow at first, then faster.
It is not always advisable to put a stop to all bodily movements. Many
memorize by way of speaking aloud, others through copying, some through
drawing. Reciting in concert also may prove feasible at times.
Incorrect associations are very much to be feared; they are tenacious.
A great deal, to be sure, may be accomplished through severity; but
when interest in the subject-matter is wholly lacking, the pupil begins
by memorizing incorrectly, then ceases to memorize at all, and simply
wastes time.
The absolute failure of some pupils in memory work may perhaps be
partly owing to unknown physical peculiarities. Very often, however,
the cause of the evil lies in the state of false tension into which
such pupils put themselves while attempting with reluctance what they
regard as an almost impossible task. A teacher’s injudicious attitude
during the first period, his remarks, for instance, about learning
by heart as a thing of toil and trouble, may lead to this state of
mind, for which perhaps awkward first steps in learning to read have
prepared the way. It is foolish to look for means of lightening still
more the exercises of children that retain and recite with facility;
but, on the other hand, great caution is necessary because there are
also others who may be rendered unfit for memorizing by the first
attempt of the teacher to make them recite, or even only to repeat
after him, a certain series of words. In attempting, by such early
tests, to find out whether children retain and reproduce easily, it is
essential that the teacher put them in good humor, that he select his
matter with this end in view, and that he go on only so long as they
feel they can do what is asked of them. The results of his observations
must determine the further mode of procedure.
82. However carefully the process of memorizing may have been
performed, the question remains: How long will the memorized matter be
retained? On this point teachers deceive themselves time and again, in
spite of universally common experiences.
Now, in the first place, not everything that is learned by heart needs
to be retained. Many an exercise serves its purpose when it prepares
the way for the next, and renders further development possible. In
this way a short poem is sometimes learned as a temporary means for an
exercise in declamation; or chapters from Latin authors are committed
to memory in order to speed the writing and speaking of Latin. In many
cases it is sufficient for later years if the pupil knows how to look
for literary helps, and how to make use of them.
But if, secondly, that which has been memorized is to remain impressed
on the memory for a long time, forever if possible, it is only a
questionable expedient to reassign the same thing as often as it is
forgotten. The feeling of weary disgust may more than offset the
possible gain. There is only one efficient method--practice; practice
consisting in the constant application of that which is to be retained
to that which actually interests the pupils, in other words, that which
continually engages the ideas rising spontaneously.
Here we find the principle that governs the choice of material for
successful memorizing. And as to the amount--so much as is needed
for the immediate future; for excessive quantity promotes an early
forgetting. Besides, in instruction, as in experience, there is a great
deal that may not be accurately remembered, but nevertheless renders
abundant service by stimulating the mind and qualifying it for further
work.
CHAPTER V
=The Main Kinds of Interest=
83. Instruction is to be linked to the knowledge that experience
provides, and to the ethical sentiments that arise from social
intercourse (36). Empirical interest relates directly to experience;
sympathetic interest to human association. Discursive reflection on the
objects of experience involves the development of speculative interest,
reflection on the wider relations of society that of social interest.
With these we group, on the one hand æsthetic, on the other religious
interest, both of which have their origin not so much in discursive
thought as in a non-progressing contemplation of things and of human
destiny.
The classification of interests into two groups, namely, (a) those
which arise from knowledge, and (b) those which arise from
association with others, and the subdivision of each of these
into three groups, making six in all, is one not of necessity,
but of convenience. The knowledge interests are, (a) empirical,
(b) speculative, (c) æsthetic; the interests arising from association
are, (a) sympathetic, (b) social, (c) religious. This classification
is adopted without criticism by most Herbartian writers. That the
classification is made simply for convenience may be seen from such
considerations as the following:--
1. Strictly speaking, _all_ interests arise from _experience_, the
social no less than the speculative; hence experience is not a basis
for classification at all.
2. Æsthetic interests, resting upon contemplation, need not be put
into a group with those that rest upon the perception of cause and
effect, or other relations perceived by discursive reflection.
3. The same is true for those empirical interests that are supposed
to rest upon immediate sense apprehension, such as the interest in
color, shape, sound, taste, odor.
4. If perception, reasoning, and sensibility are made bases for the
classification of interests, why should not the active volitional
powers of the mind become a basis likewise? Some claim that pleasure
and pain rest primarily upon the _motor_ side of our activity, rather
than upon the sensory. Our interest in _doing_ is antecedent to our
interest in knowing or feeling. This fact is fully recognized by all
Herbartians in the theory of methods, though it finds no recognition
in their classification of interests.
It must be granted, however, that Herbart’s classification is
convenient, even if not especially scientific.
The empirical interest is the mental eagerness aroused by direct
appeal to the senses, as by novel shapes, colors, sounds, odors,
and the like. Its first stage is wonder, admiration, fear, awe. The
child that drops his picture-book to chase a butterfly abandons one
empirical interest for a stronger one. This form of interest is
usually transient; unless it develops into a new kind of interest, it
is soon abandoned for some other attraction. A primary teacher may
catch but cannot hold the attention of a child by sensuous devices
leading to nothing beyond themselves.
The speculative interest is more permanent than the empirical. It
rests primarily on the perception of the relations of cause and
effect; it seeks to know the reasons of things. On this account
it is a higher form of apperception, or mental assimilation. The
most fundamental idea in the speculative interest is that of
purpose. We want to know the _purpose of things_, the function they
are to perform, the end they are expected to reach. Thus a child
has a key to the understanding of even so complicated a machine
as a self-binder, or a printing press, provided he sees clearly
the purpose of each. Until this is perceived the facts are an
unintelligible jumble of particulars. A crude form of the speculative
interest is seen very early in the child, when he demands a reason
for everything. It always remains the mainspring of intellectual
life; when it ceases to be a motive power to thinking, thought is
dead.
The æsthetic interest rests upon the enjoyment of contemplation, when
an _ideal_, sometimes distinct, sometimes vague, can be perceived
through a _sense medium_. In the Greek statue of _Apollo Belvidere_,
a divinity is represented in marble. In the painting, _Breaking
Home Ties_, the feelings of a lad and his mother upon parting are
portrayed upon canvas. In music the ideal is usually vague, in
poetry it is clear and distinct. The æsthetic value of the latter
is enhanced by good oral recitation, both because appeal is made to
an additional sense, and because the ears of men were attuned to
beautiful poetry long before the eye learned to apprehend it.
All of these interests, the empirical, the speculative, and the
æsthetic, may be classed as _individual_, since they rest upon
purely subjective grounds. They might belong to any Robinson Crusoe
who became isolated from his fellows. But the remaining groups, the
sympathetic, the social, and the religious, rest upon the idea of
intercourse with others. They are, therefore, of supreme importance
for civilized life. Without the sympathetic coöperation of men
civilization would become impossible. Mephistopheles in “Faust”
defines himself as “the Spirit that ever denies.”[12] Consequently
any man who becomes so absorbed in his individual concerns as to deny
all social duties and renounce all social benefits becomes thereby
a kind of civic devil. The cynics of old repudiated all social
obligations, thus making themselves bitter civic devils, while the
Cyrenaics, choosing self-indulgence, but denying likewise social
duties, transformed themselves into sensualistic civic devils.
It is an imperative duty of the teacher, therefore, to arouse the
social and civic interests of the children, since upon these as
active forces the welfare and possibly the stability of society rest.
The school is the place, the studies and daily intercourse the means,
whereby this class of interests may be aroused. Pupils brought up
in isolation by private tutors are likely to become non-social in
their disposition. Idiosyncrasies are fostered, there being little
or no development of ideals of social coöperation. The kindergarten,
however, when rightly conducted, is nearly always able to foster the
social instincts so powerfully that even the lack of later education
is not able to obliterate them. When this training is reinforced by
the well-governed school, a solid foundation for civic character is
likely to be laid. The studies most important for the fostering of
social and civic interests are literature, history, civil government,
and geography, though others have a more or less intimate relation to
them.
[12] “Ich bin der Geist der stets verneint.”
84. We cannot expect to see all of these interests unfold equally in
every individual; but among a number of pupils we may confidently
look for them all. The demand for many-sidedness will accordingly
be satisfied the better, the nearer the single individual likewise
approaches a state of mental culture in which all these kinds of
interest are active with equal energy.
85. As has already been suggested (37), these six kinds of interest
arise from two sources to which historical and nature studies
respectively correspond. With this the facts observed in classical
high schools (_Gymnasia_) coincide: pupils usually lean toward one
side or the other. It would be a serious blunder, however, to affirm,
on this account, an antithesis between the historical and the natural
science interest; or, worse still, to speak of a philological and a
mathematical interest instead--as is, indeed, not infrequently done.
Such confusion in ideas should not continue; it would lead to utterly
erroneous views of the whole management of instruction. The easiest
means to counteract the evil is a consideration of the multitude of
one-sided tendencies that occur even within the six kinds of interest;
we shall be able, at all events, to bring out still more clearly the
manifold phases of interest that must be taken into account. For the
possible cases of one-sidedness are differentiated far more minutely
than could be shown by the discrimination of only six kinds of interest.
“Is the ideal education classical or scientific?” This question,
which is still debated, really means, shall we cultivate chiefly the
_social_ or the _knowledge_ interests. The historical, or culture,
studies belong preëminently on the one side, the natural sciences
most largely on the other. Herbert Spencer in 1860 made a special
plea for science studies in his monograph, “Education,” claiming that
such studies are of chief worth both for knowledge and training. At
that time classical, or culture, studies had possession of almost
every institution for higher education, so that Spencer’s special
plea was justified. At present, however, science, which has developed
its own methods of instruction, holds an equal place with social
studies in the colleges and universities. When we are asked which
half of human interests we will choose, the knowledge or the social,
our reply can only be: We will abandon neither, but choose both. Both
are essential to human happiness; both are necessary for social and
material advance.
86. Empirical interest becomes one-sided in its way when it seizes upon
one kind of objects of experience to the neglect of the rest. When, for
instance, a person wants to be a botanist exclusively, a mineralogist,
a zoölogist; or when he likes languages only, perhaps only the ancient
or only the modern, or of all these only one; or when as a traveller
he wishes to see, like many so-called tourists, only the countries
that everybody talks about, in order to have seen them too; or when,
as a collector of curiosities, he confines himself to one or the other
fancy; or when, in the capacity of historian, he cares only about the
information bearing on one country, or one period, etc.
Speculative interest becomes one-sided by confining itself to logic
or to mathematics, mathematics perhaps only as treated by the old
geometricians; or to metaphysics restricted possibly to one system; or
to physics narrowed down perhaps to one hypothesis; or to pragmatic
history.
Æsthetic interest in one case is concentrated exclusively on painting
and sculpture; in another on poetry, perhaps only on lyric or dramatic
poetry; in still another on music, or perhaps only on a certain species
of music, etc.
Sympathetic interest is one-sided when a man is willing to live only
with his social peers, or only with fellow-countrymen, or only with
members of his own family; while a fellow-feeling for all others is
wanting.
Social interest grows one-sided if one gives himself up wholly to one
political party, and measures weal or woe only by party success or
failure.
Religious interest becomes one-sided according to differences of creed
and sect, to one of which allegiance is given, while those who hold a
different view are regarded as unworthy of esteem.
Much of this one-sidedness is brought about in later life by one’s
vocation. But a man’s vocation must not isolate him. Yet this would
happen if such narrowness should make headway in youth.
87. A still more detailed analysis of the varieties of one-sidedness
would be possible; it is not needed, however, for ascertaining the
position of the above-mentioned high school studies among the subjects
of instruction calculated to stimulate interest. Languages, to begin
with, form a part of the curriculum; but why among so many languages
is the preference given to Latin and Greek? Obviously because of the
literature and history opened through them. Literature with its poets
and orators falls under æsthetic interest; history awakens sympathy
with distinguished men and the weal and woe of society, indirectly
contributing in either case even to religious interest. No better focus
for so many different stimuli can be found. Even speculative interest
is not slighted if inquiries into the grammatical structure of these
languages are added. Moreover, the study of history does not stop with
the ancients; the knowledge of literature also is widened that the
various interests may be developed still more completely. History,
if taught pragmatically, assists speculative interest from another
direction. In this respect, however, mathematics has precedence; only,
in order to effect a sure entrance and abiding results, it must unite
with the natural sciences, which appeal at once to the empirical and
the speculative interest.
If now these studies coöperate properly, a great deal will be done, in
conjunction with religious instruction, toward turning the youthful
mind in the directions that answer to a many-sided interest. But if,
on the contrary, the languages and mathematics were allowed to fall
apart, if the connecting links were removed, and every pupil were
permitted to choose one or the other branch of study, according to
his preferences, mere bald one-sidedness of the kind sufficiently
characterized above would be the outcome.
88. It is admitted now that not only classical but also public high
schools in general should provide for this same many-sided culture,
that is, should take account of the same main classes of interests. The
only difference lies in the fact that for the pupils of the classical
high schools the practice of a vocation is not so near at hand;
whereas, in the public high schools, there is a certain preponderance
of modern literature and history, together with inability to equip
completely with the helps to a manifold mental activity those who
purpose to go on. Much the same is true of all the lower schools whose
aim is to educate. It is different with trade schools and polytechnic
institutes; in short, with those schools which presuppose a completed
education--completed to the extent permitted by circumstances.
If, then, the programme of a public high school is of the right sort,
it will show as well as the curriculum of a classical preparatory
school does, that an attempt is being made to guard against such
one-sidedness as would be the outcome if one of the six main classes of
interest were slighted.
How one-sidedness under an elective system may be avoided is
discussed in a previous section (65).
89. But no instruction is able to prevent the special varieties of
one-sidedness that may develop within the limits of each main group.
When observation, reflection, the sense of beauty, sympathy, public
spirit, and religious aspiration have once been awakened, although
perhaps only within a small range of objects, the farther extension
over a greater number and variety of objects must be left largely to
the individual and to opportunity. To pupils of talent, above all
of genius, instruction may give the necessary outlook by enabling
them to see what talent and genius achieve elsewhere; but their own
distinguishing traits they must themselves answer for and retain.
Moreover, the above-mentioned forms of one-sidedness are not all
equally detrimental, because they do not assert themselves with the
same degree of exclusiveness. Each may, indeed, lead to self-conceit;
but this tendency does not attach to all in the same measure.
Holding to the idea of many-sided interest, what justification is
there for elective studies? To this, the reply must be made that in
elementary and in a part of secondary education the principle of
indiscriminate election must be rejected. The only rational election
in secondary education, as already explained (65), is election among
the various members of a group of similar studies. In this way
the destination and ability of the pupil may be regarded, without
sacrificing the needed many-sidedness. The case is different in
higher education, however, for election and many-sidedness are here
quite reconcilable. Higher education is the _comparative study_ of
a few branches. Thus, for example, on the social side, the whole
civilization of Greece is focussed now in her political history,
now in her art, now in her language, now in her education, now in
her philosophy. The student who studies any one of these subjects
thoroughly gets a comparative view of the whole of Greek life. It is
not necessary for him to study them all. The same is true of each
important country or epoch. Every culture study is an eminence from
which the whole is seen.
Likewise in science, to study a typical form of life exhaustively by
the comparative method gives one an insight into all related life, as
well as many glimpses into physical and chemical science. In a large
sense, therefore, we study all nature, whether we elect biology,
physics, or chemistry, provided we use the comparative method of
higher education. In the college or university, therefore, a large
amount of election is justifiable. That would be a one-sided course
which neglected entirely all social or all science studies.
90. Under favorable circumstances of time and opportunity, such as
obtain in classical and other high schools, effort, as we know, is
not restricted to the initial stimulation. Hence the question arises:
In what sequence shall the aroused interests be further developed? Of
instruction-material there is no lack; we must select and arrange,
guided in the main by what was said on the conditions of many-sidedness
and of interest. Thus to recapitulate: there must be progress from the
simple to the more complex, and solicitous endeavor to make spontaneous
interest possible. But in applying these principles we must not shut
our eyes to the particular requirements and the difficulties in our way.
91. The empirical material of languages, history, geography, etc.,
calls for specific complications and series of ideas, together with
the network of their interrelations. As to language, even words are
complex wholes, made up of stems plus whatever elements enter into
inflection and derivation, and further resolvable into single speech
sounds. History has its time-series, geography its network of spatial
relations. The psychological laws of reproduction determine the
processes of memorizing and of retaining.
The mother-tongue serves as a medium through which foreign languages
become intelligible, but at the same time offers resistance to the
foreign sounds and constructions. Furthermore, it takes a young boy
a long time to get familiar with the thought that far away in time
and in space there have been and are human beings who spoke and
speak languages other than his own, and about whom he need concern
himself at all. Teachers, moreover, very commonly proceed on the
fallacious and very mischievous assumption that, because their mode of
expression is clear, it will, of course, be understood by the pupil.
The resources of child-language increase but slowly. Such impediments
as these must be removed. Geography extends the knowledge of spatial
distances, but the inhabitant of a flat country lacks the sense-images
of mountain ranges; one who grows up in a valley is without the
sense-perception of a plain; the majority of pupils lack the concrete
idea of an ocean. That the earth is a sphere revolving about its own
axis and about the sun, for a long time sounds to children more like
a fairy-tale than like a statement of fact; and even educated young
men sometimes hesitate to accept the theory of the planetary system
because they are unable to comprehend how it is possible to know such
things. Difficulties of this kind must be met and not massed together
unnecessarily.--For history, old ruins might serve as starting-points
if only the material they furnish do not prove altogether too scanty
and is not too recent, when the object is to take pupils at an early
age into the times and places of Jewish, Greek, and Roman antiquity.
Here the only satisfactory helps are stories that excite a very lively
interest; these establish points of support for the realization in
thought of a time long vanished. There is still lacking, however, a
correct estimate of chronological distances down to our own time. This
is attained only very gradually through the insertion of intermediate
data.
92. Material for the exercise of reflection, and so for the excitation
of speculative interest, is supplied by whatever in nature, in human
affairs, in the structure of languages, and in religion, permits us
to discover, or even merely to surmise, a connection according to
general laws. But everywhere--the most common school studies, such as
elementary arithmetic and grammar not excepted--the pupil encounters
concepts, judgments, and inferences. But he clings to the particular,
to the familiar, to the sensuous. The abstract is foreign to his mind;
even the geometrical figures traced for the eye are to him particular
things whose general significance he finds it hard to grasp. The
general is to displace individual peculiarities in his thoughts; but
in his habitual thought-series the well-known concrete crowds to the
front. Of the general there remains in his mind almost nothing beyond
the words used to designate it. Called upon to draw an inference, he
loses one premise while pondering the next; the teacher is obliged to
go back to the beginning again and again, to give examples, and from
them lead up to generalizations; to separate and to connect concepts,
and by degrees to bring the propositions closer to one another. When
the middle terms and extremes have been successfully fused in the
premises, they are still only loosely connected at first. The same
propositions are repeatedly forgotten, and yet must not be reviewed too
many times for fear of killing instead of quickening interest.
Since forgetting cannot be prevented, it is wise to abandon for a time
a large portion of that into which pupils have gained an insight,
but later on to go back to the essentials by other paths. The first
preliminary exercises serve their purpose if the particulars are
made to reveal the general before generalizations become the material
for technical propositions, and before propositions are combined into
inference-series. The processes of association (69) must not be omitted
between the first pointing out of common features and the systematic
teaching of their rational connections.
93. Æsthetic contemplation may, indeed, receive its impulse from many
interests other than the æsthetic, as also from aroused emotions. Art
itself, however, is possible only in a state of mind sufficiently
tranquil to permit an accurate and coherent apprehension of the
simultaneously beautiful, and to experience the mental activity
corresponding to the successively beautiful. Æsthetic objects adapted
to the pupil’s power of appreciation must be provided; but the teacher
should refrain from forcing contemplation. He may, of course, repress
unseemly manifestations, above all the damaging of objects possessing
æsthetic value and entitled to respectful treatment. Frequently
imitative attempts--although very crude at first--in drawing, singing,
reading aloud, and, at a later period, in translating, are indications
of æsthetic attention. Such efforts may be encouraged, but should not
be praised. The genuine warmth of emotion, which in æsthetic culture
kindles of itself, is easily vitiated by intensifying artifices. Excess
of quantity is injurious. Works of art appealing to a higher state of
culture must not be brought down to a lower plane. Art judgments and
criticisms should not be obtruded.
94. The sympathetic interests depend still more on social intercourse
and family life than the foregoing classes of interests do on
experience in the world of sense. If the social environment changes
frequently, children cannot become deeply attached anywhere. The mere
change of teachers and of schools is fraught with harm. Pupils make
comparisons in their own way; authority that is not permanent has
little weight with them, whereas the impulse to throw off restraint
gains in strength. Instruction is powerless to obviate such evils,
especially since instruction itself must often change its form,
thereby giving the impression of a real difference in teachers. This
fact makes it all the more necessary that the instruction in history
impart to pupils the glow of sympathy due to historical characters and
events. For this reason--a reason of momentous significance to the
whole process of education--history should not be made to present to
pupils the appearance of a chronological skeleton. This rule should be
observed with special care during the earlier lessons in history, since
on these depends largely what sort of impression the whole subject will
produce at a future time.
Of religious instruction, needless to say, we demand that it shall
bring home to pupils the dependent condition of man, and we confidently
expect that it will not leave their hearts cold. But historical
instruction must coöperate with religious instruction, otherwise the
truths of religion stand isolated, and there is ground for fearing
that they will fail to enter as potent factors into the teaching and
learning of the remaining subjects.
CHAPTER VI
=The Material of Instruction from Different Points of View=
95. Differences in point of view give rise to conflicting opinions
concerning not only the treatment, but also the choice of
subject-matter for instruction. If, now, first one opinion then another
wins predominance over the rest, the harmony of the purposes underlying
both learning and teaching is wanting. Not only that, but the pupils
suffer also directly through the lack of consistency where work is
begun on one plan and continued on another.
96. The teacher in charge of a given branch of study only too often
lays out his work without taking account of pedagogical considerations.
His specialty, he thinks, suffices to suggest a plan; the successive
steps in its organized content will, of course, be the proper sequence
for instruction to follow. In teaching a language, he insists that
pupils must master declensions and conjunctions in order that he
may read an author with them later. He expects them to understand
ordinary prose before he passes on to elucidate the finished style
of a poet, etc. In mathematics, he demands that pupils bring to the
subject perfect facility in common arithmetic; at a more advanced
stage they must be able to handle logarithms with ease before formulæ
requiring their use are reached, etc. In history, the first thing for
him to do is to erect a solid chronological framework to hold the
historical facts to be inserted afterward. For ancient history, he
presupposes a knowledge of ancient geography, etc. This same view which
derives the principle determining the sequence of studies from the
instruction-material itself, as though it had been unconditionally and
finally settled that such and such things _must_ be taught, asserts
itself on a larger scale in requirements for admission to higher
grades or schools. Children are to be able to read, write, and cipher
well before being allowed to enter the grammar school; promotions to
higher grades are to take place only when the goal set for the grade
immediately preceding has been reached. The good pupil, accordingly,
is one who fits into and willingly submits to these arrangements. The
natural consequence of all this is, that little heed is paid to the
condition of attention, namely, the gradual progress of interest.
97. But still another consequence ensues, occasioning a different
point of view. Pupils are commiserated on the ground that they are
overburdened. All sorts of doubts spring up as to the wisdom of
teaching the branches causing the trouble. Their future utility is
called in question. A host of instances is adduced of adults neglecting
and forgetting--forgetting without appreciable loss--that which it cost
them so much toil to learn. Of course, examples showing the opposite
to be true may also be cited, but that does not settle the question.
It cannot be denied that there are many, even among the educated, who
aspire to nothing higher than freedom from care by means of a lucrative
calling, or a life of social enjoyment, and who, accordingly, estimate
the value of their knowledge by this standard. Such a state of things
is not mended by a kind of instruction that awakens little interest,
and that in after years constitutes the dark side of reminiscences
connected with early youth.
98. What is urged in reply is, generally speaking, true: youth must be
kept busy; we cannot let children grow up wild. And their occupation
has to be serious and severe, for government (45–55) must not be weak.
But now, more than ever, doubt fastens on the choice of studies. Might
not more useful things be offered for employment?
If, by way of rejoinder, the ancient languages are commended as being
preëminently suited to give pupils diversity of work, this fact is
accounted for by the faulty methods pursued in teaching the other
subjects. With the proper method the same many-sided activity would
be called forth. For the modern languages especially, the claim is
made that they, too, are language studies involving reading, writing,
translating, and training in the forms of thought. To this argument
the unfortunate answer should not be returned, that the classical high
schools must retain their Latin and Greek because they are educating
future officials to whom the ancient languages are just as useful, nay,
indispensable, as the modern languages to other classes. For, if the
classical studies have once been degraded to the level of the useful
and necessary, the door is thrown open to those who go a step farther
still and demand to know of what use Hebrew is to the country parson,
and Greek to the practising jurist or physician.
99. Controversies like these have often been conducted as if the
_humaniora_ or humanistic studies were radically opposed to the
_realia_ and could not admit them to partnership. In reality, the
latter are at least as much a legitimate part of a complete education
as the former. The whole matter has been made worse by the practice
of some of the older generation of teachers who, in order to make the
prescribed studies more palatable, descended to all kinds of amusement
and play, instead of laying stress on abiding and growing interest. A
view that regards the end as a necessary evil to be rendered endurable
by means of sweetmeats, implies an utter confusion of ideas; and if
pupils are not given serious tasks to perform, they will not find out
what they are able to do.
We must, however, note in this connection that there are legitimate
occasions even for the sweetening of study, just as in medicine there
is a place for palliatives, notwithstanding the firm conviction
of the physician that remedies promising a radical cure deserve
the preference. Harmful and reprehensible as habitual playing with
a subject is when it usurps the place of serious and thorough
instruction, in cases where a task is not difficult, but seems so to
the pupil, it often becomes necessary to start him by a dexterous,
cheerful, almost playlike presentation of that which he is to imitate.
Superfluous prolixity and clumsiness, through the ennui alone that
they produce, cause failure in the easiest things. All this applies
especially to the teaching of younger children and to the first lessons
in a new subject, _e.g._, learning to read Greek, the beginning of
algebra, etc.
100. If, among the conflicting opinions referred to, there is any
vital point of controversy, it lies in the _a priori_ assumption that
certain subjects must be taught (96). Such an assumption educative
instruction cannot allow to be severed from the end aimed at: the
intellectual self-activity of the pupil. This, and not mere knowledge,
any more than utility, determines the point of view with regard to
the instruction-material. Experience and social intercourse are the
primary sources of the pupil’s ideas. It is with reference to these two
factors that we estimate strength or weakness in the ideas, and decide
what instruction may accomplish with comparative ease or difficulty,
at an earlier or at a later period. Good child literature turns to
these sources even while children are only just learning to read, and
gradually enlarges their range of thoughts. Not until this has been
done can the question of instruction in one or the other department of
knowledge claim consideration.
The term _educative instruction_ frequently occurs. It means,
primarily, instruction that has, in the broad sense, an ethical
bearing, or an influence upon character. It is based on the idea
that, not school discipline alone, but also school instruction in
the common branches should be of service to the child in moral and
especially in social growth. The studies help to reveal to him his
place and function in the world, they form his disposition toward men
and things, they give him insight into ethical relations. Instruction
that contains this element of moral training is therefore called
_educative instruction_ (_Erziehender Unterricht_).
101. The _realia_--natural history, geography, history--possess this
one unquestionable advantage, viz., easy association with experience
and intercourse. Partially, at least, the pupil’s spontaneous
ideas (71) may go out toward them. Properly used, collections of
plants, picture-books, maps, will contribute their share. In history,
the fondness of youth for stories is utilized. The fact that these
stories are partly taken from old books written in foreign languages,
and that these languages were once actually spoken, has often to be
mentioned in passing, before the study of these languages themselves is
taken up, nay, even after they have been begun.
It is useless to undertake a demonstration of the utility of the
_realia_. The young do not act for the sake of the more remote
ends. Pupils work when they feel they can do something; and this
consciousness of power to do must be created.
The remark that it is useless to undertake to demonstrate to the
young the ultimate utility of natural science studies leads naturally
to a distinction between interest in the studies as ultimate ends
and as immediate ends. It is suggested in this paragraph that pupils
are interested in showing their capacity to accomplish results.
It is very evident that one of the teacher’s chief anxieties must
be to awaken an interest in the studies as ends, not perhaps in
their final utility in life, but as fields in which useful work
can be done even in the immediate present. The chief category by
which to measure the pupil’s interest in the various activities
of the schoolroom is the quality of work that he can be taught to
accomplish. One need not go far to learn that children like those
studies best in which they can do the best work. This is true in
several respects. They are interested in the artistic perfection
of what they can accomplish, as in drawing, painting, writing, the
arrangement of arithmetical problems, so that the page presents a
neat appearance, and so that all the processes are plainly revealed
to the eye. They are interested in reading when they can call the
words with facility, with neatness, without stumbling, mispronouncing
or miscalling--when the tones of the voice are agreeable. The quality
of the work, however, which appeals perhaps most powerfully to the
children, is that of intellectual comprehension. In the reading class
it is a constant delight to discover the finer shades of meaning, to
express them with the voice, to detect in others any deviation from
the true thought. Reading in English is particularly susceptible
to this kind of treatment. For the English language being largely
devoid of inflections does not show through the form of the words
the finer distinctions of thought, but the mind must perceive these
from a text largely devoid of grammatical inflections. It is quite
possible, therefore, to read in such a manner as to miss all but the
most salient points of the matter presented. There is in reading an
intensive and an extensive magnitude. Our older method of teaching
reading was to devote the time to a few extracts from literary
masterpieces, which were exhausted by minute study. The more recent
tendency in elementary education is to neglect this side of reading
and to devote the time to the cursory reading, not of extracts, but
of whole masterpieces of literature. The danger of such a proceeding
is that the finer qualities of reading will be neglected for the
sake of quantitative mastery of a large amount of reading matter. A
middle course between the two would doubtless bring better results.
It would, on the one hand, secure an interest that attaches to
masterpieces as wholes, and, on the other, the literary appreciation
that comes from minute analysis both in thought and expression of the
finer distinctions of thought. In mathematical studies, the æsthetic
interest of form, or the active interest of actual performance of
problems, is not the sole or even the chief interest that should
be appealed to. But the pupil should feel that he is making a
progressive mastery of the principles of number. It is a pleasure to
apply a rule, to solve a problem neatly; but it is a still greater
pleasure to comprehend thoroughly the meaning of the rule, to grasp
and to feel its universality, so that although it is not worth while,
as Herbart suggests, to urge the ultimate function of mathematics
in the life of the world, it is quite worth while to set up those
immediate ends of interest such as appear in the activity of solving
problems, in the æsthetic appearance of the work upon paper or board
or slate, and in the comprehension of mathematical principles. These
ends are near at hand; they can be made to appeal to the pupil
through the quality of the work that the teacher demands of him.
The same is true in the natural sciences. Even though the ultimate
function of biology is an idea too remote or too complex for the
child to grasp with enthusiasm, the immediate mastery of a principle
in physics, or the discovery of a law of plant life, or of a fact in
chemistry, may be an end in which the pupil’s most intense interest
can be excited.
102. Geometry has other advantages of association, advantages we have
begun only recently to turn to account in earnest. Figures made of
wood or pasteboard, drawings, pegs, bars, flexible wires, strings, the
use of the ruler, of compasses, of the square, counted coins arranged
in long or short, in parallel or diverging series,--all these may be
offered to the eye _ad libitum_ and connected with other concrete
objects. They may be made the basis of systematic employment and
exercises, and this will be done more and more when the fact is once
grasped that concrete ideas possessing the _proper degree of strength_
constitute the surest foundation of a branch of instruction whose
success depends on the manner in which the pupil forms in his mind the
ideas of spatial relations. This is not grasped, of course, by those
who regard space once for all as a form of sense-perception common
to all minds alike. A careful study of the data of experience will
convince the practical educator that the opposite is true; for in this
respect individual differences are very marked. Pupils rarely hit upon
geometrical constructions unaided; the aptitude for drawing, that is,
for imitating the objects seen, is met with more often.
It is easy by abstraction to form arithmetical concepts out of the
apprehension of geometrical relations. To do so should not be regarded
as superfluous, not even when the pupil has already fully entered upon
his work in arithmetic.
103. To Germans the two ancient classical languages do not offer the
advantages of easy transition. On the other hand, the study of Latin,
even if only moderately advanced, prepares the soil for the most
indispensable modern foreign languages. Herein lies an argument against
beginning with French, as was often done formerly. The linking of
Latin to French will, moreover, hardly win the approval of students of
languages, since, not to mention other reasons, Gallicisms are a source
of no little danger to Latinity.
The ancient languages require long-continued labor. This fact alone
renders it advisable to begin them early. The strangeness of Latin for
Germans should not lead to the conclusion that the study of Latin
should be commenced late, but rather that during the earlier years of
boyhood it should be carried on slowly. The sounds of foreign languages
must be heard early, in order that the strangeness may wear off. Single
Latin words will be easily mastered even by a child. These may soon
be followed by short sentences consisting of two or three words. No
matter if they are forgotten again for a time. That which is said to
be forgotten is not on that account lost. The real difficulty lies in
the multitude of strange elements that accumulate in relatively long
sentences; it lies also in the many ways of connecting subordinate
clauses, in the qualifying insertions, in the order of words, and in
the structure of the period. Furthermore, we must not overlook the fact
that children are very slow to acquire the use of dependent clauses,
even in German; their speech for a long time consists merely of a
stringing together of the simplest sentences. The attempt to advance
them more rapidly in the syntactical forms of Latin than is possible in
their mother-tongue is a waste of time; and, besides, their inclination
to study is put to a very severe test.
Perhaps the most serious defect of secondary education in the United
States is its brevity. Languages are not begun until the pupil is
well on to fifteen years old. A reform most urgently needed in this
country is the extension of high school influence to the two grades
of the grammar school lying immediately below the high school. This
would enable pupils to begin foreign languages at about the age of
twelve, or two years later than they are now begun in Germany.
104. The foregoing remarks show plainly enough that in educative
instruction some subjects will be found a comparatively easy and sure
means of awakening intellectual activity, while others involve a more
strenuous effort, which, under certain circumstances, may end in
failure. The concrete studies are nearest to the pupil; mathematics
requires some apparatus to render it tangible and vivid; to get pupils
started properly in modern languages can be but a slow process. But
this difference is, after all, not fundamental enough, nor does it
affect the whole course of instruction sufficiently, to constitute a
serious pedagogical objection to the study of foreign languages, so
long as there is time to teach them. Their fruits mature later.
CHAPTER VII
=The Process of Instruction=
105. Whether or not instruction will begin well and go on properly
depends on a combination of three factors,--the teacher, the pupil,
and the subject taught. Failure of the subject-matter to excite the
pupil’s interest is followed by evil consequences moving in a circle.
The pupil seeks to avoid the task set for him; he remains silent
or returns wrong answers; the teacher insists on getting a correct
answer; the lesson is at a standstill; the pupil’s dislike grows more
intense. To conquer dislike and indolence, the teacher now refuses
altogether the assistance he could give; as best he may, he compels
the pupil to collect his thoughts, to work by himself, to prepare his
lesson, to memorize, even to apply in written exercises what he knows
but imperfectly, etc. The presentation proper has come to an end; at
all events it has ceased to be consecutive. Now the right kind of an
example is wanting, which the teacher should set--one of reading,
thinking, writing, that implies complete absorption in the subject.
And yet it is this example concretely illustrating how to take hold of
the subject, how to present it, and how to associate it with related
subjects, which effects the best results in good instruction. The
teacher must set such an example, the pupil must imitate it as well as
he can; the teacher must render him active assistance.
106. Instruction is either synthetic or analytic. In general, the term
_synthetic_ may be applied wherever the teacher himself determines
directly the sequence and grouping of the parts of the lesson; the term
_analytic_, wherever the pupil’s own thoughts are expressed first, and
these thoughts, such as they chance to be, are then, with the teacher’s
help, analyzed, corrected, and supplemented. But there are many things
under this head that need to be defined and discriminated more sharply.
There are analyses of experience, of facts learned in school, and of
opinions. There is one kind of synthesis which imitates experience;
there is another kind which consists in constructing designedly a whole
whose component parts have been presented one by one previously.
Here, again, many differences arise, owing to diversities inherent in
the subject-matter.
107. Since instruction builds on the pupil’s experience, we shall deal
first with that form of synthesis which imitates, or copies experience.
We may name it _purely presentative instruction_. The term _synthetic_,
on the other hand, will henceforth be reserved for that form of
instruction which reveals clearly the process of building up a whole
out of parts presented singly beforehand.
The purely presentative method of instruction, although practicable
only to a limited extent, is nevertheless so effectual as to entitle it
to separate treatment, so effectual that the teacher--and this is the
main thing--will do well to train himself carefully in its use. Skill
in this direction is the surest means of securing interest.
It is customary to demand that the pupil acquire facility in narration
and description, but we ought not to forget that here above all the
teacher must lead the way by setting a good example. To be sure, there
is an abundance of printed narrative and description, but reading does
not produce the effect that hearing does. _Viva vox docet._ As a rule,
we cannot take for granted that a boy has even the skill and patience
required for reading; and if perfect facility has been attained, the
reading is done too rapidly. There is too much hurry to get to the
end, or too much delay over the wrong passages, so that the connection
is lost. At the most, we may let the pupils that read exceptionally
well read aloud to the class. By far the surer means to the end in
view is the oral presentation by the teacher. But in order that such
presentation may produce its effect undisturbed, it needs to be
perfectly free and untrammelled.
108. The first requisite for free oral presentation is a cultivated
style of speaking. Many teachers need to be warned against the use
of set phrases, against mere expletives, faulty enunciation, pauses
filled in with inarticulate sounds, against fragments of sentences,
clumsy parentheses, etc.
In the second place, adaptation of the vocabulary employed, both to the
subject-matter and to the intelligence of the pupils, and adjustment of
phraseology to the pupil’s stage of culture are essential.
Lastly, careful memorizing. At first this should be done almost
verbatim. At all events, the teacher must prepare his lesson as though
he had his pupils before him and were talking to them. Later on he
must memorize at least the facts and turning-points of the subject to
be presented, in order that he may not be compelled to consult books
or look at notes. A few remarks on some particular points will be made
farther on.
109. The effect of the teacher’s narrative and description should be to
make the pupil realize events and objects as vividly as if they were
actually present to his eye and ear. The pupil must, therefore, have
actually heard and seen much previously. This recalls to our minds the
necessity, pointed out before, of first enlarging the young pupil’s
range of experience, when found too limited, through excursions and
the exhibition of objects. Again, this form of instruction is adapted
only to things that might be heard or seen. We must therefore avail
ourselves of all the help pictures can give.
If the presentation has been a success, the reproduction by the pupils
will show that they recall, not merely the main facts, but largely even
the teacher’s language. They have retained more exactly than they have
been asked to do. Besides, the teacher who narrates and describes well
gains a strong hold on the affections of his pupils; he will find them
more obedient in matters pertaining to discipline.
The foregoing paragraphs on presentative instruction may seem strange
to the American teacher. We must remember, however, that they were
written before the modern era of text-books, when, in point of fact,
the teacher was practically the sole reliance for the facts that the
children were to learn. It is the custom, even to the present, in
the lower schools of Germany, to rely very largely upon the teacher
for the information which the children are to acquire. In American
schools, this method is not followed, for so enormous has been the
development of text-book industry, that in every field of education
the richest material is offered to the schools in the form of
text-books. There is, however, still a legitimate field for purely
presentative instruction in the earlier grades of the elementary
school, especially in literature and in the beginnings of history.
The most primitive method of instruction, as we see clearly in the
earlier periods of Grecian education, was the narrative. The children
of those days received their instruction in history, mythology,
literature, geography, by listening to the tales of heroes and
heroic deeds narrated by their parents, by wandering minstrels and
rhapsodists. To this day, the teacher who can narrate biographical
or literary matter in an attractive manner is sure to awaken intense
interest in the children under her control. Perhaps one facility
which the modern teacher needs to acquire more than any other is
the capacity of happy, vivacious, interesting narrative cast, at
the same time, into simple yet excellent literary form. Such a
teacher is an undoubted treasure in the primary school. There is
occasion, moreover, in nearly all school study for the presentation
of supplementary material in almost every school study. This is true
especially in literature and history. It is also true in geography
and in mathematics, as where, for instance, the teacher narrates the
methods of the ancient Egyptians in the development of geometrical
ideas, or those of the Greeks. If one is teaching a foreign language,
one may always find happy opportunities for introducing bits of
history, biography, or other illuminating material. In the sciences
nothing is more interesting to children, more stimulative of renewed
effort, than narratives concerning our great scientists, their desire
for education, their struggle to attain knowledge, their misfortunes,
and their triumphs. Every aspect of instruction may be supplemented
and illumined by instruction given in the purely presentative form of
narration.
110. While skilful presentation produces results akin to an extension
of the pupil’s range of actual experience, analysis helps to make
experience more instructive. For, left to itself, experience is not a
teacher whose instruction is systematic. It does not obey the law of
actual progress from the simple to the complex. Things and events crowd
in upon the mind in masses; the result is often chaotic apprehension.
Inasmuch, then, as experience presents aggregates before it gives the
component particulars, it becomes the task of instruction to reverse
this order and to adjust the facts of experience to the sequence
demanded in teaching. Experience, it is true, associates its content;
but if this earlier association is to have the share in the work of the
school that it should have, that which has been experienced and that
which has been learned must be made to harmonize. With this end in view
we need to supplement experience. The facts it has furnished have to
be made clearer and more definite than they are, and must be given an
appropriate embodiment in language.
111. Let us consider first the earliest stage of analytic instruction.
In order to understand the significance of this method of teaching, we
must examine the nature of a child’s experience. Children are indeed
in the habit of familiarizing themselves with their surroundings; but
the strongest impressions predominate. Objects in motion have greater
attraction for them than objects at rest. They tear up and destroy
without troubling themselves much about the real connection between
the parts of a whole. In spite of their many why’s and what for’s,
they make use of every tool or utensil without regard for its purpose;
they are satisfied if it serves the impulse of the moment. Their eyes
are keen, but they rarely observe; the real character of things does
not deter them from making a plaything of everything, as their fancy
may direct, and from making one thing stand for every other thing.
They receive total impressions of similar objects, but do not derive
concepts; the abstract does not enter their minds of itself.
These and similar observations, however, apply by no means equally to
every child. On the contrary, children differ greatly from one another;
and, with the child’s individuality, his one-sidedness already begins.
112. It follows at once that the first thing to be done, in a school
where many children are to be taught together, is to make the children
more alike in their knowledge. To this end the store of experiences
which they bring with them must be worked over. But the homogeneity of
pupils, desirable as it is, is not the sole aim. We must take care also
that the whole of instruction acts upon the particular stock of ideas
of each pupil taken individually. We must seek those points of contact
and departure to which attention has repeatedly been called above, and
hence cannot leave the pupil’s mass of ideas in its original crude
state. Thoughtful teachers have long since testified to the necessity
of this requirement, which mere scholars in their zeal for learning
fail again and again to appreciate.
Niemeyer, in his widely read work, opens his treatment of the
particular laws of instruction with a chapter entitled: “The First
Steps in awakening Attention and Reflection through Instruction,
or Exercises in Thinking.” These exercises are no other than the
elementary processes of analytic instruction. He says: “When the age,
the health, and the strength of children have made instruction proper
seem expedient, the first lesson should be one of the kind described
in the chapter heading. Such exercises might be profitably continued
in some form or other until the ninth or tenth year, and probably even
later. The fact that it is not easy to describe them in a word very
likely explains why we fail to find them in most programmes of private
and public schools. That at last some attention is being given even
in the common schools to this matter is one of the venerable Canon
Rochow’s imperishable services to education.”
Pestalozzi, in his book for mothers, strikes out in the same direction.
It will not serve the purpose, to be sure, to confine oneself, as he
does, to a single object; still, the kind of exercises is indicated
very definitely by him; indeed, more definitely, in some ways, than by
Niemeyer.
113. The notions of pupils about surrounding objects, that is, notions
in which the strongest impressions predominate (111), must be made to
approach uniformity first. This is accomplished by uniform reproduction.
On this point Niemeyer says, “The teacher should begin by talking with
his pupils about those objects which are, at the time, affecting their
senses directly. Pointing to these objects, he asks the pupils to name
them. He then passes on to things that are not present, but that the
children have seen or felt before. At the same time he exercises their
powers of imagination and expression by making them enumerate what they
are able to recall. Suitable material: everything in the schoolroom;
the human body; everything pertaining to food, dress, comfort; things
found in the fields, in the garden, in the yard; animals and plants so
far as they are known by the children.”
114. The next step consists in pointing out the main facts of a given
whole, the relative position of these parts, their connection, and
their movability, if they can be moved without damage. To this are
properly linked the simplest facts concerning the uses of things. At
the same time children are taught how they must _not_ use things, and
how, instead of ruining them, they ought to look after them and use
them with care. The abundance and number of things, their size, form,
and weight, should likewise be referred to as early as this stage, and
should furnish occasion for comparisons.
But something more is needed to give distinctness to the ideas of
pupils, and to prepare the way for future abstract thinking. Beginning
first with the objects, we derive from them the predicates by searching
out the attributes; this done, we must in turn make the predicates
our starting-point, and classify the objects under the heads thus
obtained. This distinction has been made before by Pestalozzi; it is
one of fundamental importance in the preparation for generalization.
While engaged in such work pupils will of themselves learn to compare,
to discriminate, and, in some instances, to observe more accurately:
erroneous notions due to an active imagination will be corrected by the
appeal to experience as the source of knowledge.
115. Of what remains to be done, the most important task consists in
securing a comprehensive view of a somewhat extended time-series, of
which objects, together with their natural or artificial origins,
are members. An elementary knowledge will thus be gained, especially
of the simplest facts about manufacturing processes, and about
intercourse among human beings, which facts will serve subsequently as
the groundwork for instruction in natural history and geography. But
for history also the way must be prepared by referring, although only
in the most general way, to times when the utensils and tools of the
present had not yet been invented, when the arts of to-day were as yet
unknown, and when people were still without those materials that are
now imported from foreign countries.
116. It does not follow, because no definite periods are set apart
for the instruction described, that it is not being given at all. We
may find it incorporated, to a large extent, with something else,
particularly with the interpretation of elementary reading matter,
which forms part of the first work in the mother-tongue. Nevertheless,
a subject that is taught only incidentally is always liable to suffer,
if not from indifference, at least from inadequate treatment.
On the other hand, we cannot fail to recognize that the appointment
of separate periods for analytic instruction may prove difficult,
owing to the fact that the rate of progress depends so largely on
the stock of ideas pupils bring with them, and on their readiness to
utter what they think and feel. Besides, while Niemeyer expressly
says, “Children taught in this manner know nothing of tedium,” he also
hastens to add, “but it is easy to spoil them by too rapid changes
of subject.” The same, or similar bad consequences, may result from
other school exercises where the teacher himself supplies a profusion
of instruction-material, and so relieves his pupils of the trouble of
gathering such material from their own recollections. On the whole,
therefore, it will be well enough to set apart but few hours, or weeks,
for the first attempts; and these can be made a part of the lessons in
the mother-tongue.
In private instruction the difficulty spoken of is not encountered.
Besides, the ample opportunities afforded for observing the pupil’s
store of ideas make it easy to devise a suitable plan for the earliest
analytic teaching.
In the foregoing paragraphs on analytical instruction, the question
naturally arises, “Is such instruction to be regarded as an end
in itself, or as a means for preparing the mind for more perfect
assimilation of the subject-matter to be presented from day to day in
the various studies?” Since the time these paragraphs were written,
not only Germany herself, but also America has gone through a varied
experience with respect to what we call object teaching. It was at
one time conceived that a specific hour should be set apart each day
for instructing the children in the observation of objects. In other
words, object lessons were a distinct part of the programme. It was
supposed that in this way the children could be made conscious of the
significance of their environment, and that it was highly desirable
that such an end should be brought about. In Germany the same effort
was undertaken under the name of _Anschauungsunterricht_, but since
the multiplication of text-books, and the increased pressure upon
the schools brought about through the introduction of new subjects
of study, it has been found inadvisable to devote a specific period
of the day to isolated analytic instruction upon objects. Such
instruction, however, has by no means passed from the field of
usefulness, even in our very best schools. The necessity of appealing
powerfully to previous experience, in and out of the schoolroom, as a
basis for understanding a matter presented in the daily lessons, is
everywhere recognized. From being an end of school work, therefore,
analytic instruction has passed to the realm of a useful means for
arousing the mental activity of the children concerning the regular
lessons of the schoolroom. It is, in modern terms, an apperceptive
basis for all instruction.
117. At a later time analytic instruction reappears in other forms,
those of review and the correction of written exercises. The teacher
has presented a body of facts; he has furnished the helps necessary for
the solution of certain problems. What he has given, the pupils are
expected to produce again in their review exercises and essays. Where
necessary, their work is analyzed and corrected.
In conducting reviews a pedagogical blunder is apt to be made--a
blunder that brings on the evils specified in a former paragraph (105);
review is confounded with examination. The two are radically different.
If the teacher could be sure of both perfect attention and full
comprehension, he himself would go over the ground covered by his first
talk once more for the purpose of assisting the memory; the pupils
would not be called upon to take part. In this case, we should have
neither analytic instruction nor anything resembling an examination.
As a matter of fact, however, pupils are usually asked to reproduce
what and as much as they remember. This is easily taken to mean that
they should have retained everything, which, strictly speaking, is
not expected even in an examination. The purpose of an examination is
to ascertain the actual state of knowledge, whatever it may prove to
be; reviews are conducted for the purpose of increasing and deepening
knowledge. If an examination is followed by praise or censure, well and
good; a review has nothing to do with either.
Since reviewing and drilling, which resembles the former, claim the
larger portion of the time devoted to school work, it will be worth
while to examine the subject somewhat more closely.
118. Repetition of several ideas intensifies those ideas. It does
more than that. If they are of opposed nature, the reciprocal arrest
that ensues resists their fusion less during the reproduction than
it did in the original act of apprehension. The fusion increases in
completeness, and, besides, becomes more uniform, _i.e._, the weaker
ideas hold their own better alongside of the stronger. Again, if a
series of successive ideas is repeated, the first members of the series
of themselves tend to reproduce those that follow before the latter are
repeated--a tendency gathering energy in proportion to the frequency of
repetition. This fact underlies the increase in rapidity which comes
with growing skill. Extraneous thoughts, however, very easily interrupt
the psychical process of reproduction.
Let us assume that the teacher’s presentation has been an adequate one
and has lasted no longer than the capacity of the pupils permitted,
only a few minutes, perhaps. He himself might now repeat; but asks
his pupils to do so, lest their thoughts begin to wander from the
subject in hand. He comes to their aid and repeats only when their own
attempts have failed. But very often they have retained some things and
forgotten others. In this case it becomes his business to reinforce
the ideas striving to rise into consciousness, but without disturbing
their movement. In other words, he should prompt neither more nor less,
should lend aid neither sooner nor later, than will serve to make the
pupil’s train of thought coincide as nearly as possible with that of
the presentation properly given. Unless this is done, the reproduction
fails to effect the required association and facility. The same ground
is gone over again and again in vain; fatigue sets in, and the wrong
association takes place--a matter for grave apprehension. If the pupils
are in an unresponsive mood, the teacher must go slow, for the time
being; if interest is lacking, he cannot incite the proper movement of
ideas. If the teacher is not conducting the repetition with skill, the
fragmentary answers of the pupils indicate well enough after a time
that the desired current of thought has not been generated.
119. We have taken it for granted that the presentation was an adequate
one--one that might serve as a model (105). Where this adjustment of
means and ends extends, as it may, even to the language, the latter
should be closely followed in the repetition, but without pedantic
insistence on unimportant details. But very frequently the essential
feature of the presentation is found in the sequence of thought. In
that case expression will vary, and the teacher is satisfied at first
if, in repeating, the pupils furnish evidence that they understand; he
allows them to use their own words, though less appropriate. He must,
still, however, look carefully after the given sequence, which the
repetition is to reproduce with the greatest possible coherence.
120. The case is different when later on larger sections of a course
of successful instruction are to be repeated. During all the earlier
stage particular facts were moved far apart (68) for the sake of
clearness; by means of conversation, or of incidental mention in other
recitations, or through experience itself (110), provision was made
also for association of various kinds. Now it becomes the business of
repetition in the first place to gather together into a smaller compass
what has been expanded; next it subserves the purpose of systematic
arrangement, and lastly, is often of use for making the instruction
more complete and for adding the difficult to the comparatively easy.
Here the mode of presentation itself changes to meet the requirements
of a more advanced grade of work. But repetition immediately after
the presentation, or, perhaps, during the next hour, will, as a rule,
remain necessary even at this higher stage.
121. Here, where compression and insertions are to modify the material
of instruction, we need to inquire into the forms of connection
peculiar to the objects, together with those essential for use, and to
determine accordingly the series and web of ideas to be formed in the
mind of the pupil. For such organization of ideas, repetition is, at
all events, far better adapted than presentation, which can traverse
only one of several series at a time, and which passes into repetition
the moment an effort is made to bring the other series forward also.
In natural history, for example, various classifications occur, in
history the ethnographic divisions are crossed by the synchronistic,
while the history of culture demands yet another basis of association;
in geography each noted city is to be a landmark, enabling the pupil
to take his bearings in every direction, but cities on rivers suggest
river basins and mountain ranges; in mathematics each theorem is to
be kept ready for separate application, but it has also its special
place in the chain of demonstrations; grammatical rules, too, should be
available when called for, but it is very necessary at the same time
that the pupil become perfectly at home in his grammar and know where
to look for information.
The teacher who, by skilful repetition, does justice to these multiform
associations, is not always the one who shows most skill in systematic
presentation, and who knows best how to make prominent the main
thoughts, and to link to them those that are subordinate.
122. The impulse to repeat must, as a rule, come from points with
which pupils are familiar. It is further requisite that the teacher,
in conducting the repetition, adapt himself to their train of thought;
he must not adhere strictly to an inflexible plan. The necessary
corrections require delay here and there; the corrected statements
often constitute new points from which to take bearings. At times
the pupils themselves should feel free to indicate which topics it
seems most necessary to repeat. By so doing they assume a certain
responsibility as to the rest, and are made to realize all the more
their obligation to make up deficiencies.
123. The correction of written work likewise falls under the head of
analytic instruction, but the toil exceeds the profit if written work
is demanded too early. While writing the pupil consolidates his ideas.
Now if he does so incorrectly, the effect is mischievous, his mistakes
cling to him. Moreover, the teacher has to be on his guard lest, while
orally correcting and reading over the composition, he overestimate
the pupil’s attention. When many slips occur, when a whole forest of
mistakes is found to have sprung up, the pupil becomes indifferent
to them all; they make humble, but they also dishearten. Such tasks
should, therefore, be very brief, if the pupil is weak; nay, it is
preferable to have none at all, as long as progress is being made more
surely by a different kind of exercises.
The teacher who assigns home work with a view to saving labor in school
miscalculates utterly; his work will soon have become all the harder.
To many it seems that the exercises they assign should be very
easy, rather than short; and to make them easy, outlines, turns of
expression, everything, is indicated as definitely as possible. This
is a delusion. If composition has any purpose, it consists in making
the pupil try to see what he can do without the teacher. Now if the
pupil actually gets started on the exercise, the teacher ought not to
step in his way with all sorts of prescriptions. If the pupil fails to
make headway, the attempt was premature. We must either wait or else
shorten the task, no matter if it should shrink to no more than three
lines. Three lines of the pupil’s own work are better than three pages
written by direction. It may take years before the self-deception due
to leading-string methods is superseded by a true estimate of the
pupil’s actual power.
124. The case is quite different if, before writing, the pupil has been
assisted orally in developing his thoughts. This kind of analysis is of
special importance in later boyhood; but the teacher should see to it
that the pupil gives free expression to his own opinion. If he does,
a theme has been furnished for discussion during which the teacher
will avoid harsh dissent in proportion to his eagerness to accomplish
something with his pupil. To rebuke presuming boldness or impudence is
a different matter, of course.
Self-chosen themes are preferable by far to those that are assigned,
only they cannot be expected of the majority of pupils. But when they
do turn up, the character of the choice alone, but still more the
execution, will throw light on the opinions current among the pupils,
and on the impressions which not only the school, but experience and
society as well, have been constantly at work to produce. The writer’s
individuality reveals itself even more distinctly. Every teacher must
be prepared to come upon these individual traits, however much he
might prefer to have his pupils reflect himself. It would be futile if
he attempted to correct their essays by interpolating his own view;
he would not by that means make the latter their own. The mode of
treatment can be corrected; but other opportunities will have to serve
for the rectification of opinions--provided this can ever be undertaken
successfully.
125. With regard to synthetic instruction, we assume at the outset
that it will be supported during the whole course of training by the
merely presentative and the analytic methods of teaching, wherever
these are in place. Otherwise the ultimate result will always remain
problematical, particularly the union of learning and life.
Synthetic instruction brings in much that is new and strange; and
we must take advantage of the universal charm of novelty. It must
coöperate with acquired habits of application, and with the interest
peculiar to each subject taught. The affairs, not of Italy alone, but
also those of Greece and the Orient, have become a matter of everyday
discussion. There has been a general diffusion of knowledge about the
facts and laws of nature. Hence even younger children cannot help but
pick up many things now that will tend to forestall the indifference or
aversion with which school studies were regarded not longer than fifty
years ago. They seemed to be something foreign to life. At present, it
cannot prove difficult to turn curiosity in the direction of distant
lands, and of past ages even, especially where collections of rare
articles and antiquities are accessible. This stimulation would not
persist long, however, in the face of the labor of learning, if there
did not exist at the same time a widespread conviction of the necessity
of study, a conviction reinforced by the legal requirements of schools,
particularly of the gymnasia. Accordingly, families exert a good
influence with respect to the industry of children; and with the right
sort of government and training in school, willingness to learn is
easily secured. Less easy is it to incite a genuinely scientific desire
to know, one that will endure beyond examinations. This brings us back
to many-sidedness of interest (83–94). If interest were not already the
end of instruction, we should have to look upon it as the only means
whereby the results of teaching can be given permanence.
Interest depends partly, it is true, on native capacity, which the
school cannot create; but it depends also on the subject-matter of
instruction.
126. Synthetic instruction must offer subjects capable of arousing
lasting and spontaneously radiating interest. That which affords only
temporary pleasure or light entertainment is of too little consequence
to determine the plan of operation. Nor can the choice of such studies
be recommended as stand isolated, as do not lead to continued effort;
for, other reasons aside, we are unable to decide beforehand to
which of the main classes of interest (83–94) the individual pupil
will especially incline. The first place belongs rather to those
studies which appeal to the mind in a variety of ways and are capable
of stimulating each pupil according to his individuality. For such
subjects ample time must be allowed; they must be made the object
of prolonged, diligent effort. We may then hope that they will take
hold in some way, and we shall be in a position to know what kind of
interest they have inspired in one pupil or another. Where, on the
contrary, the end of the thread of work is soon reached, it remains
questionable whether any effort at all will be produced, let alone a
lasting impression.
127. The subject-matter having been chosen, the treatment must be
adjusted to it in such a way as to bring it within reach of the pupils.
For the exercises growing out of such treatment, the well-known
rule holds in general: the easy before the difficult, or, more
specifically, that which prepares the way before that which cannot
be firmly grasped without preliminary knowledge. To insist, however,
on perfect mastery in this respect, is often equivalent to scaring
away interest. Absolute proficiency in preliminary knowledge is a
late achievement, nor is it attained without fatigue. The teacher has
to be satisfied if the mastery acquired is such that what is lacking
can, without serious delay, be added by him in practice. To make the
road so level as to do away entirely with the necessity for occasional
leaps (96), means to provide for the convenience of the teacher rather
than for that of the pupils. The young love to climb and jump; they
do not take kindly to an absolutely level path. But they are afraid
in the dark. There must be light enough for them to see by; in other
words, the subject must lie spread out before their eyes with such
distinctness that each step is seen to be a step forward, which brings
them perceptibly nearer to a distant goal.
128. With regard to the sequence of studies we need to distinguish
first of all between preparatory knowledge and ability to do. As is
well known, the latter, even when it has been fully attained, can
be secured against loss only by long-continued practice. Hence the
practice of the pupil’s skill must go on constantly from the time
when he first learns to apply what he knows. But merely preliminary
knowledge, which produced fatigue before it was mastered, may be
allowed to drop out of the memory. Enough remains to make it easier
to resume the subject at a later time (92, 103). Accordingly, not the
preliminary knowledge just referred to, but the pupil’s facility in
doing, supplies the principle determining sequence. In the case of all
essential elementary information--knowledge of rudiments of grammar,
arithmetic, and geometry--it will be found expedient to begin with
the simplest elements long before any practical application is made.
In such first lessons individual facts only are presented. These are
made clear to the pupils (68, 69); here and there they are associated.
Fatigue is avoided if possible. Even if the earliest attempts at
memorizing should prove successful, it will be safer, instead of
relying on this fact, to postpone the whole matter for a time. At a
later period the same subject is resumed from the beginning without
any demand on the teacher’s part that some things should have been
retained. This time, however, it will be possible to introduce a
somewhat larger quantity of the instruction-material, and it will not
be too early to make pupils perceive the connection between individual
facts. If pupils experience difficulty in comprehending, we should
be careful not to advance too rapidly; the greater the difficulty,
the greater the need for caution. When the time comes for practical
application, an earnest, diligent effort must be insisted on, but only
for tasks of moderate length, and without exacting too much by harsh
means. Not every pupil can do everything. Sometimes a pupil will at a
later period acquire the power he does not possess now, if only his
chances for success have not been spoiled by earlier blindness on the
part of his teacher.
129. Again, corresponding to each stage of instruction, there is a
certain capacity for apperceiving attention (77) which deserves careful
consideration. For we ought to avail ourselves of the comparatively
easy in order to facilitate indirectly what would otherwise prove
difficult and time-consuming.
We need to distinguish between insertion and continuation, and to
connect this distinction with the division of ideas into spontaneous
and induced (71). It is easier to fill in between familiar points than
it is to continue, because the continued series is in close contact
with the well known only at the starting-point. Easiest of all is
insertion between free-rising ideas, between those ideas that occur
to the pupil spontaneously, when he has been led into a certain field
of consciousness. Hardest of all, and least certain of success, is
the continuation of lessons that can be revived in consciousness only
by a laborious effort of memory. Intermediate in difficulty are the
insertion of new elements between induced or reproduced ideas, and
continuation on the basis of free-rising, or spontaneous, ideas. That
there may be many gradations besides is of course self-evident.
The teacher who knows his pupils well will be able to make frequent use
of these distinctions. Only a very general outline of their application
can be given here.
The realia and mathematics can be connected more easily than other
studies with the pupil’s experience (101, 102). If the teacher has
properly availed himself of this advantage, he may count on ideas
that rise spontaneously, and his task will then consist in first
establishing a few suitable cardinal points so that insertions may be
made farther on.
Languages present more serious difficulties. It is true that progress
in the vernacular is made through apperception by the pupil’s earlier
attainments in his mother-tongue, and through the insertion of the new
into the old. But in foreign languages, which associate themselves
with the mother-tongue only gradually, apperception and insertion
cannot take place until after some knowledge of the language has been
acquired. And this knowledge must grow considerably before we can
reasonably look for spontaneous ideas. If now the reproduced ideas
become encumbered with additional new ones, worst of all through mere
continuation, we need not wonder if the result is useless chaos.
This explains, no doubt, why the attempts to teach the ancient
languages _ex usu_, after the manner in which the language of a foreign
country is easily learned by residence in that country, had to end in
failure. One who learns French in France has persons and actions before
his eyes; he easily infers that which concerns him. Such apperception
takes place undoubtedly by means of spontaneous ideas with which the
foreign language becomes associated. Before long the language itself
becomes an apperceiving factor and participates in the process of
learning. For the ancient languages, on the contrary, a grammatical
working basis is needed first, especially a knowledge of inflectional
endings, pronouns, and particles. The blunder should not be made, to
be sure, of beginning with a marshalling of the hosts of grammar, as
though grammar itself needed no base of operations. Long practice of
what is most necessary must precede. But the worst plan would be to
start in with cursory reading; in other words, to continue without
making sure of anything.
Even cursory reading, however, produces good results under one
condition; namely, the existence of a lively interest in the contents.
130. When the thoughts of the reader hasten on in advance of the words
and get hold of the general sense correctly, the required apperception
is performed by means of spontaneous ideas together with the insertion
of whatever was not inferred. But this presupposes a very favorable
relation of the book to the reader. Hence texts used in the teaching
of a language must be chosen with very great care, and their contents
explained.
Such work should not be slighted in favor of grammar; on the other
hand, as much grammar must be given as is necessary. Some of the
essentials will have to precede the reading; complementary facts will
be presented in connection with the reading; other portions of the
grammatical apparatus will be introduced at suitable halting-places.
Written exercises belong elsewhere and stand in a different relation to
grammar.
The interest in an author depends very largely on historical
preparation; here we cannot fail to discover connection between
philology and the so-called real studies.
CHAPTER VIII
=Remarks on the Plan of Instruction as a Whole=
131. Where many diverse means are to coöperate for the attainment of
one end, where many obstacles have to be overcome, where persons of
higher, equal, and lower rank enter as factors requiring consideration,
it is always a difficult matter to keep the end itself, the one fixed
goal, steadily in view. In instruction the difficulty is increased
by the fact that no one single teacher can impart the whole, and
that consequently a number of teachers are obliged to depend on
one another. But for this very reason, however much circumstances
may vary the courses of study, the common end, namely, many-sided,
well-balanced, well-connected interest, in the achievement of which
the true development of mental powers consists, needs to be lifted
into prominence as the one thing toward which all details of procedure
should point.
132. No more time, we need to realize at the outset, should be demanded
for instruction than is consistent with the proviso that the pupils
retain their natural buoyancy of spirits. This must be insisted on,
and not merely for the sake of health and physical vigor; a more
direct argument for our present purpose lies in the fact that all art
and labor employed to keep the attention awake will be thwarted by
the disinclination to study caused by sitting too long, and even by
excessive mental application alone. Forced attention does not suffice
for instruction, even though it may be had through disciplinary
measures.
It is urgently necessary that every school have not only spacious
schoolrooms, but also a playground; it is further necessary that each
recitation be followed by an intermission, that after the first two
periods permission be granted for exercise in the open air, and that
the same permission be given after the third period if there is a
fourth to follow.
Still more urgent is the demand that pupils shall not be deprived of
their hours of needed recreation by an excessive amount of school work
to be done at home. The teacher who loads pupils down with home tasks
in order to dispense as much as possible with perhaps uncertain home
supervision, substitutes a certain and general evil for a possible and
partial one.
The neglect of such precautions has given rise in recent times to
very bitter complaints, which will continue to be heard in future
for similar reasons. Violent gymnastic exercise is not the means to
put a stop to them. They threaten to lead to another extreme--such
restrictions upon instruction as will make an inner unity of work
impossible.
The subjects of fatigue and school hygiene have now grown to
unexpected dimensions. Many periodicals are devoted to them, while
the volume of literature bearing upon them has passed the stage where
one person can be expected to command it all. In his “Bibliography
of School Hygiene,” published in the “Proceedings of the National
Educational Association for 1898,” Professor William H. Burnham
enumerates four hundred and thirty-six standard works, articles, and
journals dedicated to this cause. Many of these books, like those of
Eulenberg and Bach, or Burgerstein and Netolitzky, comprise hundreds
of pages, being based on extended experiment and research.
133. The time properly belonging to instruction must not be scattered.
The deep-rooted practice of assigning two hours per week to one study
and two hours to another, each lesson separated from the next by an
interval of two or three days, is absurd, because incompatible with
continuity of presentation. Of course, if the teacher can stand this
arrangement, the pupils will have to endure it.
The subjects of instruction must be taken up in order that each may
have its share of continuous time. To give a whole term to each is not
always practicable; frequently shorter periods will have to suffice.
Again, one subject must not be split into several, according to the
names of its branches. If, for example, we should set apart separate
hours for Greek and Roman antiquities and again for mythology in
addition to the time designated for the reading of ancient authors,
separate hours for the systematic survey of the branches of knowledge
besides those reserved for German in the highest class of the
gymnasium, separate hours for analytic geometry alongside of algebra,
we should tear asunder where we ought to join together, and should
dissipate the time at our disposal.
Saving time depends on methods better than these,--on proficiency in
presenting a subject and skill in conducting recitations.
Despite the protest here entered, German schools still adhere to the
plan of presenting many subjects simultaneously, few hours per week
being devoted to each. American schools are fairly free from the
reproach, it being an exception to find standard subjects taught less
than four or five times per week.
134. As boys grow older, they may derive a great deal of profit from
reading and doing many things by themselves. Following their own
choice, they develop in accordance with their individual traits. We
question, however, the wisdom of calling for reports on such outside
pursuits. Pupils of ordinary capacity should not be made ambitious
to imitate what they are not fitted for; extensive reading must not
impair feeling and thinking. Breadth of learning is not identical with
depth, and cannot make up for lack of depth. Instead of reading, some
engage in the study of a fine art. Others are compelled at an early
age to give lessons in order to support themselves. These learn while
teaching.
The essentials of a coherent scheme of studies must not be dependent
on outside reading; they must be embraced in the plan of instruction
itself.
135. From beginning to end the course of study must be arranged so as
to provide for each of the main classes of interest. The empirical
interest, to be sure, is called forth everywhere more easily than
any of the other kinds. But religious instruction always fosters
sympathetic interest; in this it must have the assistance of history
and language study. Æsthetic culture at first depends on the work in
the mother-tongue; it is desirable to have, in addition, instruction in
singing, which at the same time promotes the health of the pupil. Later
on, the ancient classics contribute their share of influence. Training
in thinking is afforded by analytic, grammatical, and mathematical
instruction; toward the end, also, by the study of history, which then
becomes a search for causes and effects. Coöperation of this sort is to
be sought everywhere; the authors to be studied must be selected with
this end in view, and interpreted accordingly.
If there is a defect in Herbart’s scheme of interests as a guide
to the selection of the studies of the curriculum, it lies in the
fact that the interests named are too exclusively applied to the
pupil’s individual life, and not enough to his life as a member
of the social whole. There is an important sense in which even
natural science, which may be expected to cultivate the speculative
interests, is social; for science becomes truly significant only
when it contributes to the service of men. The fact that we now live
in an industrial age, that life is preserved from disease in so large
a measure, that the well-being of every community is advancing so
rapidly, that universal education is now a fact rather than a dream,
is due to the application of science to human welfare. Consequently,
we are not restricted to a few humanitarian topics, like history and
literature, for the development of our social interests. We find that
every study has its sociological as well as its personal bearings. On
the other hand, since all studies are both subjective and objective
in the interests they arouse, it would be possible to awaken all the
six classes of interest enumerated by teaching but a fraction of
what we now consider needful in a good curriculum. It would seem,
therefore, that the six classes of interest, at best, indicate what
the _quality_ of our teaching should be, not with sufficient accuracy
_what_ subjects should be taught. The latter is determined quite as
much by social as by psychological needs.
SECTION III
TRAINING
CHAPTER I
=The Relation of Training to Government and to Instruction=
136. Training looks toward the pupil’s future. It is founded on hope,
and shows itself, to begin with, in patience. It tempers government,
the object of which might perhaps be realized more speedily by greater
rigor. It moderates even instruction in case the latter puts too great
a strain upon the pupil. But it also combines with government as well
as instruction, and lightens their work.
Training consists primarily in a certain personal attitude, identical
if possible with a kind way of treating pupils. This implies readiness
on the part of the teacher to listen to the wishes and utterances of
the pupil, who, in the midst of strangers, looks to his teacher (and to
the family in charge of his education) for sympathy and support. But
training becomes active where the pupil needs help, especially help
against his own weaknesses and faults, which might frustrate the hopes
centred in him.
137. Training insists on becoming conduct; it encourages cheerfulness
of disposition. In either case it remains within limits compatible
with the occupations connected with government and instruction. The
pupil is never to lose sight of the subject on which he is engaged; it
would be bad if a desire to show off, or to amuse himself, should take
possession of him and cause him to forget his work.
The wise teacher will be glad to make himself personally agreeable to
his pupil as long as the conduct of the latter does not call for the
opposite treatment. Supervision grows less irksome in consequence.
Gentle words forestall, if anything can, all severer measures.
138. The teacher does not look upon the progress resulting from his
teaching with feelings of indifference. His sympathy, even solicitude
it may be, coöperates powerfully with the greater or lesser degree
of interest awakened in the learner. Training, however, can never be
made a substitute where there is no interest or, worse still, where
indifference has become positive dislike.
139. In instruction the presence of interest cannot be simply assumed;
just as little can good intentions on the pupil’s part always be
presupposed in training. One thing, however, must be taken for granted:
the pupil must not have come to feel that the discipline is weak and
the instruction poor. Any defect in either direction must therefore be
traced to its source and remedied. When pupils feel free to do as they
please, when they think they have good cause to blame the teacher for
their failure to make progress, his manner will be of no avail; and
futile attempts only make matters worse.
140. In some cases training becomes blended with government to such
an extent that it can scarcely be distinguished from the latter.
As an example, we may mention the large educational institutions
conducted on a military basis, where the individual pupil is carried
along by the general system, rather than made the object of special
care. In other cases, training and government remain farther apart
than is necessary; an instance of this is when a strict father keeps
himself at a distance, and leaves the business of training, within
the prescribed rigid limits, to the tutor of his children. At all
events, a distinction must be made between the two concepts, training
and government, in order that the teacher may know what he is doing,
and may notice what is perhaps lacking; we are justified in adding,
in order that he may save himself useless effort. For training is not
uniformly effectual, regardless of circumstances; the teacher needs to
be watchful in this matter in order that the opportune moment for doing
what can be done may not escape him.
CHAPTER II
=The Aim of Training=
141. While the aim of instruction was rendered sufficiently
determinate, as we saw above (17, 64, 65), by the injunction,
be perfect, the aim of training, which supplements educative
instruction, comprehends virtue as a whole. Now virtue is an ideal,
the approximation toward which is denoted by the term _morality_.
Again, since, generally speaking, a child passes on from mere capacity
for culture to culture itself, from the indeterminate to fixedness of
knowledge, the approximation to virtue consists likewise in development
toward stability. Where conduct in moral affairs vacillates, there is
a deficiency; where something morally hateful becomes confirmed, there
is a defect. Excluding both, we define the aim of training properly as
moral strength of character.
“Training” means such will-training as conduces to the formation
of good character; “government” means such training as conduces
to good order. The first is for a permanent, the second for
an immediate, purpose. In government we can appeal both to a
positive and a negative means. The positive means is interest in
a study and the affairs of the schoolroom; the negative means
is inhibition of disturbing impulses. As Professor James, in his
“Talks on Psychology,”[13] points out, this inhibition may be of
two sorts,--that of forcible suppression, and that of substitution.
A teacher who uses negative means of inhibiting mischief or
inattention, employs command or punishment. This method, though
sometimes seemingly unavoidable, often results in mental strain,
if not permanent alienation between teacher and pupil. The method
of substitution attempts to secure inhibition of the undesirable
state of mind by giving rise to a set of favorable ideas strong
enough to displace it. “If, without saying anything about the street
disturbances,” which may be distracting the attention of your pupils,
“you open a counter attraction by starting some very interesting
talk or demonstration yourself, they will altogether forget the
distracting incident, and, without any effort, follow you along.”
Training, however, has a more difficult task. It must succeed in
implanting what may be called regulative principles in the mind.
It must furthermore succeed in establishing habits of conduct that
will enable the pupil to become self-governing. That is, we must
establish in him habits of feeling and action that will enable him
to substitute the higher for the lower good, or, at least, instantly
to inhibit the temptation to evil. This is a task not for a day or a
year, but for the whole school period.
[13] James, “Talks on Psychology,” p. 193, Henry Holt & Co., New York,
1899.
142. In succeeding chapters character and moral conduct will each have
to be differentiated more minutely. For our present purpose we need
only to remind ourselves that the determinateness of the will, which
is called character, depends not only on willing, but also on not
willing. The latter is either a deficient or a denying willing, which
repels or rejects. Stern methods of governing, which bar access to
everything that might lead astray, are likely to produce a deficient
will rather than the permanence of formed strength; with the end of
school days, the dreaded opportunities arrive after all, and the pupil
may quickly undergo a change beyond recognition. The task of training
must therefore be thought of as embracing both affirmative willing and
rejecting.
CHAPTER III
=Differentiation of Character=
143. Our will activities result from ideas. Different masses of ideas
give rise to different will action; hence the difficulty experienced in
harmonizing and unifying the manifold acts of will.
The various groups of ideas do not simply succeed one another
in consciousness; the relation of one to the other may also be
that of apperception. Apperceiving attention is not confined to
sense-perception (77); it embraces inner perception as well. The
process of apperception, however, consists rarely or never in mere
perceiving. It involves more: one mass of ideas exerts a determining
influence on the other. Now, since each may be the source of will
action, it happens that often one act of will accepts or rejects
another. Again, conscious of himself preëminently as a being that
wills, man gives commands to himself and decides concerning himself;
he seeks to acquire self-control. In such efforts he makes himself
more and more the object of his own observation. That part of his will
activity which his self-observation reveals to be already in existence,
we call the objective part of character. To the new will action,
on the other hand, which first springs into existence in and with
self-examination, we give the name subjective part of character.
The subjective side of character can attain its full development only
during the years of maturity. Its beginnings, however, reach back into
boyhood, and its normal growth during adolescence is noticeably rapid,
due allowance being made for variations of kind and degree in different
individuals.
The assumption of the unconditional primacy of ideas can no longer
be seriously entertained. Just as there is an unfolding of ideas in
sensation, perception, apperception, and rational insight, so there
is an unfolding of our volitional life in impulse, conscious will
action, and the control of conduct in accordance with the regulative
principles of moral obligation. Knowledge and will doubtless spring
from a common root, but they are not primarily so related that
volition waits on knowledge. Impulse is antecedent to idea, while in
the last analysis and in the highest realm of mind, the _actual_ is
subordinate to the _ideal_, the _ought_ is more powerful than the
_is_. In other words, there is, as Dr. Harris maintains, a sense in
which the will is self-determining, even though the extent to which
this self-active control obtains is uncertain. As Natorp says,[14]
“It is folly to call upon the weak to be strong, to concentrate
consciousness upon the categorical imperative, so that the inflexible
demands of the ought shall be complied with.” Yet even in the weak
there is a bar of consciousness or perhaps conscience before which
judgment must be pronounced as to the worthiness or unworthiness of
a given line of conduct. It is the function of moral education--and
this includes all education--to make the weak strong, to strengthen
the good impulses, to clarify the insight, to accustom the mind to
dwell on the right set of ideas, to cultivate desirable feelings
and interests. In this process of moral development, the world of
ideas has perhaps all the validity claimed for it by Herbart. What
is here called the “subjective” side of character pertains to that
regulation of conduct which arises from its examination before the
bar of consciousness as to its agreement or disagreement with the
regulative principles of moral obligation. It is that advanced
stage of development in character in which the mind is consciously
self-directive. Naturally it is later than the “objective” side,
where action is more spontaneous, more governed by impulses, more
subject to hypnotic suggestion; in short, more subordinated to
“ideo-motor” activity and less governed by reflection.
[14] Natorp, “Socialpädagogik,” p. 9, tr. Fromman, Stuttgart, 1899.
144. In view of the very manifold volitional elements which the
objective foundations of character may obviously contain, it will
facilitate a survey if we distinguish (1) that which the pupil does or
does not endure willingly, (2) that which he does or does not long to
have, (3) that which he does or does not like to do. Now one, now the
other class predominates, the strongest controlling and restricting the
rest. But this restriction is not always an easy matter. Accordingly
the objective phase of character attains at first to inner harmony only
with difficulty.
145. In consequence of frequent repetitions of similar acts of will,
general concepts are gradually formed in the subjective side of
character, concepts comprehending both the similar will actions already
present under similar circumstances, and the requirements man sets up
for himself with a view to determining his willing one way or another.
These requirements fall largely within the province of prudence; they
pertain to forethought and cautious reserve, or, may be, to action, in
order that an end may be gained by the choice of suitable means. The
boy wants to be wiser than the child; the youth wiser than either. In
this way man seeks to rise above himself.
146. Moral conduct is not always furthered by man’s effort to surpass
himself, so that the teacher’s task becomes a twofold one,--a watching
and directing not only of the objective but also of the subjective side
of character. Temperament, native bent, habit, desire, and passion
fall under the former; to the latter belong the frankness or cunning
displayed by the pupil, and his habitual method of practical reasoning.
147. As a rule, we may consider it auspicious for character building if
the pupil, instead of being swayed by moods and whims, is constant in
his willing. Such uniformity as requires no effort we may designate by
the expression memory of will.
When a pupil possesses this natural advantage, the objective part of
his character easily arrives at harmony with itself. He sees that among
his many preferences relative to enduring, having, doing, one imposes
restrictions upon the other; that it is often necessary to submit and
endure in order to have and do that which is desired; that pursuits of
which he is fond do not always yield what he longs to have, and so on.
When these truths have become sufficiently clear to him, he soon comes
to a point where he decides which things he cares about a great deal,
and which less. He chooses, and choice largely determines character,
primarily character in its objective aspects.
In the course of the development of the subjective part of character,
there are formed in succession resolves, maxims, and principles, a
process involving subsumptions, conclusions, and motives. It will cost
many a struggle before these motives can assert themselves.
The strength of a character depends on the agreement between its two
parts, the objective and the subjective. Where there is want of accord,
the character is weak. But both must be morally good; where that is not
the case, strength ceases to be desirable.
CHAPTER IV
=Differentiation of Morality=
148. Pupils at once active and kindly are not rare, and so far as
the ideas of perfection and good-will are concerned, give rise to no
anxiety, at least not at first. With a firm government, moreover, they
are easily induced to make the golden rule their own, and they soon
become disposed to yield in contention, or rather, become more careful
about picking a quarrel. Accordingly, with reference also to equity and
justice, they cause little anxiety. In time they gain mental balance,
the basis of genuine self-control, and are now on the road to inner
freedom. In short, they are in possession of that which, in the light
of fundamental ethical ideas, constitutes morality.
But these constituents of moral conduct are not found together in
every one, nor do they always remain together. Side by side with the
praiseworthy traits mentioned, others of an opposite nature frequently
manifest themselves; it becomes evident that the latter are not
excluded, and thus the former do not determine the character.
149. In order to exclude the morally evil, the praiseworthy traits
of the objective side of character need to be reinforced by the good
resolutions of the subjective part.
These resolutions, to be worth anything morally, must rest on that
theoretical judgment whereby the pupil through examples comes to
distinguish between better and worse in willing. As long as his judging
lacks clearness, energy, and completeness, his resolutions are without
a foundation in his mind and heart. They are hardly more than memorized
words.
When, on the other hand, the theoretical judgment has become interwoven
with the totality of interest growing out of experience, social
intercourse, and instruction, it creates a warm affection for the good
wherever found, an affection which influences not only all of the
pupil’s efforts of will, but also the manner in which he assimilates
what instruction and life henceforth offer.
150. Finally, in order to fortify moral decisions, we must avail
ourselves of the assistance derived from the logical cultivation of
maxims, from the systematic unification of the same, and from their
constant application in life.
Here the organic connection between character growth and the formation
of habits of reflection becomes apparent; training is, therefore,
obviously unable to accomplish its work except in conjunction with
instruction.
As soon as a pupil gets a clear notion that a presented ideal of
conduct promotes the true realization of his own being, he is
in a position to acquire an interest in reaching that ideal. An
end, hitherto remote, comes nearer, so that it begins to exercise
influence upon the conduct that leads to it. Convention, appeal,
or even compulsion from without, are now reinforced by the good
resolutions arising from the pupil’s own subjective states. Here we
see the interaction of intellectual and emotional capacities. The
intellect perceives relations, thus bringing into consciousness a new
ideal; this distant end is mediated inasmuch as desire or feeling
impels the pupil to enter upon a course of conduct whose stages lead
to the ideal goal.[15]
[15] See Dewey, “Interest as Related to Will,” reprint by the National
Herbart Society for 1899, pp. 15–16.
CHAPTER V
=Helps in Training=
151. The function of training does not consist, it is true, in always
restraining and meddling; still less in ingrafting the practices of
others to take the place of the pupil’s self-activity. Nevertheless,
refusal and permission are so much a part of training that the pupil
becomes far more dependent through training than mere government could
make him. In government a few rules may be enforced very strictly,
while in other respects the boy is left to himself; in training a
similar relaxation of vigilance is scarcely ever permissible. Only the
strongest grounds for confidence in a pupil would justify such a course.
The watchful teacher, even without aiming to do so, always shows some
degree of approbation or dissatisfaction. In many cases this is all
that is necessary; at times, with sensitive pupils, even this is too
much. Unaccustomed censure hurts them more than was intended, while
no evidence, however slight, of approval, escapes their notice. The
teacher should be considerate in his treatment of such sensibility.
152. With regard to restraint of freedom, keenness of sensibility
is more common. In this connection another point also calls for
consideration. Freedom is of the utmost direct importance to formation
of character, provided it issues in well-weighed and successful
action. For from success springs the confidence of will whereby desire
ripens into decision. Where rational action may be looked for, freedom
of action must be granted; where the opposite is true, the early
appearance of a vivid consciousness of self-activity is fraught with
danger.
Frequent censure and curtailment of freedom generally blunt
sensibility, rather more, however, sensibility to words than to
restrictions. Accordingly, where repetition of censure is necessary,
the language may and should vary. On the other hand, the teacher’s
practice with respect to permission and prohibition must, where
possible, be felt to be permanent, even if it were only to confine
the granting of the same permission to stated times, in accordance
with an adopted habit. Lack of uniformity, except for obvious reasons,
impresses pupils as arbitrariness and caprice; fixed limits are endured
more easily.
153. The sensibilities are irritated least by mere directions, by daily
reminding, by calls at the appointed hour, without words of reproach.
There are numerous details of daily life which must be placed under
the rule of order, but it would be unwise to make more of them than
they deserve. Sharp reprimands ought not to be wasted on petty acts of
negligence; they are needed for important things. Rules must be obeyed;
but a light punishment, one that does not wound the feelings, is more
suitable here than harsh words could be.
154. Closely related to the foregoing is the cultivation of habits
that imply endurance, or the bearing of deprivation without murmur,
or even an inuring to positive hardships. In efforts tending in this
direction it is not sufficient merely to refrain from hurting the
pupil’s feelings; youthful good humor and love of fun must be allowed
free expression besides.
155. Mischievous consequences follow if children become accustomed
to frequent, unnecessary gratification of desires, or to a round of
artificial pleasures which include neither work nor exercise. To
mention only one such consequence, the attendant blunting of the
sensibilities renders ineffectual numerous minor aids of training
which may be employed to good advantage with unspoiled children. It
takes little to give children a great variety of pleasures when great
moderation is a matter of daily practice, and for this very reason
we need to husband, as it were, our resources for giving enjoyment,
in order that much may be accomplished with little. Harmless games,
particularly, should not be spoiled for children by making them feel
that they must cultivate the staid behavior of adults. Their own
ambition fills them only too early with the desire to appear no longer
as children.
156. The good teacher’s watchfulness will extend even to petty details,
which may indeed prove momentous enough in his little world. These are
not so important, however, as the mutual relations of the coöperating
factors:--
(1) _Relation between Action and Rest._ The powers of the child must
be given something to do, but exercise is to further their growth and
hence must not be carried to the point of exhaustion. Now and then
a boy must convince himself by experience that great things may be
achieved by strenuous effort, but severe tests of this kind must never
be permitted to become the rule.
(2) _Relation between that which puts down and that which lifts up._
The means of training that humble and those that encourage should
balance as nearly as possible. That which rises of its own accord
requires no raising up; but when along the whole course of training
criticism perceptibly exceeds encouragement, it loses its effectiveness
and often embitters pupils more than it benefits them.
(3) _Relation between Restraint and Freedom._ The child’s surroundings
and companionship should afford protection against temptation, but his
environment must be sufficiently ample and rich to prevent much longing
for that which is outside.
157. The outcome is uncertain in the case of those aids to training
whose effect on the sensibilities of the pupils cannot be foreseen.
Some of them are, nevertheless, well worth trying, final judgment being
suspended until after the result has been observed. Under this head
belong especially the strictly pedagogical punishments and rewards
which are patterned after the natural consequences of doing or not
doing. The boy who comes late loses the anticipated enjoyment; if
he destroys his things, he must do without them; over-indulgence is
followed by bitter medicine; tattling by removal from the circle in
which matters requiring discretion are discussed, etc. Such punishments
do not subserve moral improvement, but they warn and teach a lesson. To
what extent they will do so we are often unable to tell beforehand; a
profitable reminiscence may be retained at all events.
The discipline of consequences has been much emphasized by Herbert
Spencer in his “Education.” Its limited usefulness in moral training
is pointed out in the foregoing section. Acting like a mechanical
law, it tends to have the same effect upon the feelings that a
physical law has. How could one’s moral sensibilities be impressed by
the law of gravitation? Nature makes us prudent, but scarcely good.
158. Sometimes the question is how to set pupils on the right track
again. They have grown listless, for instance, or pursue their
tasks with reluctance. Here we may profitably resort to a sudden
interruption by a change of employment. It happens occasionally
that pupils, physically strong, are guilty of very bad behavior that
persists in spite of admonitions and punishments, or reappears in
another form, but which is, after all, at bottom, only the result of
a state of ill humor that can easily be corrected. An unexpected,
trifling present, an unusual act of attention, will very likely break
down the pupil’s reserve, and when the cause of the trouble has once
been ascertained, it will be possible to discover a remedy.
159. In the case of those that are weak physically, furtherance of
health combined with persevering patience is the first and chief duty.
But kindness should not degenerate into weak indulgence; on the other
hand, close supervision must take the place of every form of harsh
treatment.
CHAPTER VI
=General Method of Training=
160. The distinctions relative to character and morality (143–150)
furnish the thread of reflection on this subject. Concisely stated, the
function of training is to support, to determine, and to regulate; to
keep the pupil, on the whole, in a tranquil and serene frame of mind;
to arouse him occasionally by approval and reproof; to remind at the
proper moment, and to correct faults. A more definite significance
will be imparted to this brief summary by a comparative study and
application of the ideas analyzed in the preceding chapters.
While we may accept the statement that the function of training is to
support, to determine, and to regulate, we must not forget to ask:
To what end shall it do these things? The answer is, that though
the means of moral training are always psychological, the ends are
always social. Support must hold the pupil up to social standards,
the directive power of the teacher must be exercised for social ends,
while all regulation of the pupil’s activities must point to the same
result. There is scarcely a virtue to be named that does not find its
ultimate meaning in its application to conduct as affecting others.
This is true even in primitive society. In modern urban society it
is not only true, but vastly important. The discussion in Chapter VI
is psychological throughout. It must be the purpose of the annotation
to point out the social implications.
161. First, what is meant by the supporting activity of training
becomes clearer if we recall the remarks made concerning memory of the
will (147) as opposed to the thoughtlessness usually ascribed to youth.
The thoughtless boy does not remember past acts of will. He stands in
need of being supported by training. This, further analysis shows, is
done in two ways: by holding him back from the wrong course, and by
holding him up to the right course.
Training presupposes an efficient government and the obedience
consequent to it. By implication, the pupil would not dare to disobey
a command if given. But commands ought to be employed sparingly, and
only when inevitable. Imposed too frequently, they would preclude
self-development; if given to adolescents for any but obvious and
urgent reasons, obedience would not long continue. In short, government
acts at intervals. But the pupil cannot be permitted to live in a state
of lawless liberty in the meantime. He must remain sensible, be it ever
so little, of certain limits which he is not allowed to overstep. This
result is the aim of the supporting function of training.
But the pupil, even though he be generally obedient, does not obey
every one, nor under all circumstances, nor always fully, promptly,
and without opposition; and when he once fails to comply with gentle
words, he will be still less ready to yield to a severe manner toward
himself. Of course, the teacher must know on what support he may
depend; the father needs to have made up his mind how far he would be
willing to go with coercive measures if necessary; the private tutor,
to what extent he may count on the backing of parents; the teacher in a
public institution, how far his course of action would be upheld by his
superiors. But all this involves an appeal from training to government,
a step to be avoided as much as possible. Most of the unpleasant cases
of intractability, where recourse to government becomes unavoidable,
are the gradual result of continued weak indulgence. Of such cases no
account is taken here, and justly so, since, apart from all else, even
defiant obstinacy, provided restraint has not been cast off utterly,
soon breaks down and gives way to remorse when it is met by serious and
deliberate firmness.
The most obvious ways that the school has of securing a good “memory
of will” are those by which it enforces the well-known school
virtues,--regularity, punctuality, silence, and industry. It is to
the acquisition of these habits that the government, or discipline,
of the school is chiefly directed. Dr. Wm. T. Harris has pointed out
in detail the significance of this acquisition in the development
of character.[16] It is interesting to note how the teacher’s
personal authority is reinforced by social pressure both within and
without the school. The Superintendent of a city of thirteen thousand
inhabitants reports that but 1462 cases of tardiness occurred during
a whole school year. The pupils of each room are given a brief
holiday, from time to time, provided nobody in that room is tardy
during the stated period. This brings an immense social pressure
within the school to bear in securing prompt attendance. Happening to
visit the Superintendent’s office in a city of some sixty thousand
people, the writer observed the following scene: A young girl of
perhaps fourteen years of age, accompanied by her father, who was
a foreigner, unable to speak English fluently, entered the office.
The girl began at once to make excuses for her brother who was a
somewhat confirmed truant, and to beg that he might be excused and
reinstated. To objections stated by the Superintendent, the father
with much emotion replied, “Oh, Mr. Superintendent, won’t you give my
boy another trial?” The boy had been ‘tried again’ so many times that
father and daughter were referred to the judge, an officer having
jurisdiction over such cases. The penalty for persistent truancy was
attendance at a state reformatory school. This is a case in which the
authority of the teacher in securing regularity of attendance was
reinforced by the community outside the school. The constant pressure
of school and community tend to establish habits of will memory that
serve as an excellent foundation for later moral training.
[16] Third Year Book of the National Herbart Society.
162. Before training can have within itself the power to make up
deficiencies in obedience, there must be awakened in the pupil a vivid
feeling that the approval of his teacher is a valuable possession,
which he would be loath to lose. This the teacher will bring about
in proportion to the effective and welcome share he has in the life
of his pupil. He must give before he can receive. Furthermore, if in
his opinion the pupil needs to be turned in a different direction, he
should not underestimate the difficulty of the task before him; he must
proceed slowly.
The initial steps in character training are admirably described by
Niemeyer in the following words: “The teacher’s first duty is to study
the positively good elements in the native character of the being to
be educated. To preserve these, to strengthen them, to transform them
into virtue, and to fortify them against every danger, should be his
incessant endeavor. They should constitute the keynote, as it were,
of his whole method of education. He should look for the good even in
the spoilt and vicious pupil, and should try to bring it to light,
no matter how many weeds may have sprung up alongside of it. For all
subsequent moral education must start from this point.”
Although this passage belongs in strictness to the discussion on moral
education, it is plainly entitled to a place here also. An appeal
to the pupil’s better nature promotes ready compliance on his part,
especially when it is accompanied by those little courtesies that go
with cultivated social intercourse. It is most effective with those who
possess at the same time the strongest memory of will, which it will
not be difficult for the supporting activity of training to strengthen
still further.
163. On the other hand, the task of training grows arduous in
proportion as the pupil fails to bear in mind his acts of will. But
even here there is a difference between capricious unruliness and
downright flightiness and levity.
Cases may arise where the impetuosity of the pupil challenges the
teacher to a kind of combat. Rather than accept such a challenge, he
will usually find it sufficient at first to reprove calmly, to look on
quietly, to wait until fatigue sets in. The embarrassing situations
into which such a pupil gets himself will furnish occasions for making
him feel ashamed, and now it remains to be seen whether or not he can
be made to adopt a more equable behavior. Here and there training may
in this way even make good the lack of government; scarcely, however,
for large numbers, after unruliness has once begotten vicious habits.
Combats of any kind between teacher and pupil are to be deplored.
A good teacher is always strong enough in his mental superiority,
his authority, and his influence as an executive to avoid it. Such
a contest shows that the pupil has become self-conscious in a bad
sense. He sets his personality over against that of the teacher.
If the teacher is so weak as to meet him on his own ground, the
pupil has a good chance for a bad victory--bad for himself, the
teacher, and the school. It should be a constant aim of the teacher
to supplant introspection, whether pertaining to feelings or to
wilfulness, with motor activity. The pupil should always be doing
something that will promote not only his own best good, but that
of the school also. Authority should rarely so assert itself as to
incite or to permit a personal contest with the pupil. It should be a
strong but almost unseen presupposition of all school affairs. Here
as elsewhere idleness is the mother of mischief. Lively action is
sure to banish morbid introspection.
164. Thoughtlessness in the narrower sense, which manifests itself in
forgetfulness, in negligence, in want of steadiness, and in so-called
youthful escapades, is a defect in native capacity, and does not
admit of a radical cure, imperceptible as it may become with age, by
reason of repeated warnings and diminishing susceptibility to external
impressions. All the more imperative is it in such cases to support
by training, in order that the evil consequences of this character
weakness may be prevented, or at least reduced to a minimum. For as
soon as a thoughtlessly impulsive boy comes to take pleasure in his
conduct, he will set himself against order and industry, and will
strive to discover the means which promise to secure for him a life
without restrictions. This danger must be forestalled by training.
At the beginning, and before an evil will has had time to develop,
training must take the place of will. It must bring home to the pupil
that of which he had lost sight. To his fluctuating and roving
impulses it must lend its own external firmness and uniformity, which
cannot be created at once, if at all, within the pupil.
Here is the proper place for the injunction, not to argue with
children. “I cannot be too emphatic and outspoken in my warning against
too much arguing,” says Caroline Rudolphi; and Schwarz, who quotes this
passage, adds, “Once is too often.” Niemeyer, after speaking of the
excesses of abnormal liveliness and characterizing thoughtlessness,
which, he says, “causes inattention, a disregard for consequences,
and hasty actions,” continues thus: “All these are not faults of the
heart; still they are faults that need to be amended, and about the
only sure educational method for amending them is to cultivate right
habits. Positive punishments wisely chosen may indeed be employed as
auxiliary means, but only when there are evidences of a lack of good
intention, or when these faults have become ominously prominent.” He
further advises teachers to insist on this, that pupils rectify on the
spot what can be rectified, since vague recollections prove barren of
good results.
This does not, of course, dispose of the whole matter, but we are still
discussing training as a supporting agency, and from this point of view
it is true that argument should not be substituted for the cultivation
of habits.
165. To restrain the lively but thoughtless boy is more difficult than
to keep him properly active, for the latter is comparatively easy, in
some cases at least, if instruction excites his interest. The reverse
holds true for the sluggish boy because an attack has to be made on
his indolence. Here the stimulation to physical exertion through
association with wide-awake playmates is the first thing to be secured;
and where hard lessons cannot as yet be managed successfully, lighter
occupations will have to suffice. Where sluggishness is traceable to
bodily feebleness, improvement may be hoped for from sanitary measures
and increasing years.
The following rule is to be observed everywhere: No exercise must
exceed the pupil’s strength, but that which has once been begun must be
completed. At the least, pupils must not be allowed to drop their work
as they choose; they must look upon it as a whole, however small.
166. That the supporting procedure of training rests on the teacher’s
own bearing--on the uniformity of his demeanor--need hardly be said;
but this evenness must also stand out clearly before the eyes of the
pupils. The teacher ought to guard particularly against causing the
complaint that no one knows how to please him, that nothing one may
do is done to his satisfaction. When matters have come to this pass,
the first thing pupils do is to watch his moods as they might the
weather, and to interchange observations. His ugly mood is dreaded;
his pleasant mood is taken advantage of for importunate requests.
The pupils try to move the firm centre which is to support them, and
the faintest signs of success awaken and foster extravagant hopes.
Gradually the after-effects of earlier government die out, and a
renewal of severe measures draws with it a train of new evils.
Goldsmith in his “Deserted Village” has well portrayed the “moody”
teacher:--
“A man severe he was, and stern to view;
I knew him well, and every truant knew:
Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace
The day’s disasters in his morning face;
Full well they laughed, with counterfeited glee,
At all his jokes, for many a joke had he;
Full well the busy whisper, circling round,
Conveyed the dismal tidings when he frowned.”
167. Second. Training is to exert a determining influence; it is
to induce the pupil _to choose_ (147). Under this head falls the
discrimination spoken of above between varieties of volitional
impulse--the will to bear, to have, and to do; hence also experiential
knowledge of the natural consequences of doing or of failure to
do (157), for unless these are taken into consideration, the manifold
of will cannot be reduced to harmony. Now the first point to be noticed
in connection with this aspect of training is that the teacher does not
choose for the pupil. The pupil himself must choose, for it is his own
character that is to be determined. He must himself experience a part,
although only the smallest part, of that which is desirable or harmful.
That the flame burns that a pin pricks, that a fall or knock hurts,
this lesson even the little child must learn; and similar experiences
must be gained later, provided they do not carry the pupil to the verge
of serious danger. Everything essential has been accomplished if,
in consequence of actual experiences confirming the teacher’s words
of warning, the pupil believes other warnings without waiting for
confirmation.
Not second in importance to the act of choosing is the content of the
choice. If conduct must have a social outcome, all the activities
of the school will focus at this point. In order to have rational
choice there must be first of all social intelligence. This it is
the function of instruction to develop. According to a well-known
doctrine of Herbart, it is the chief duty of instruction to make a
progressive revelation to the pupil of the ethical world, in order
that his puny will may gradually be reinforced by race experience.
The instruments for this revelation are the studies on the one hand,
and the conduct of the school according to social principles on the
other. In the second place, that the ethical choice may truly express
the pupil’s inward state, rather than his outward constraint, it must
grow out of his insight as suffused by his social responsiveness to
ethical ideas. In other words, his disposition should confirm his
intellectual perception of the right line of conduct. This raises the
whole matter of interest as related to will.[17] Here again natural,
spontaneous, almost unconscious attitude is vastly superior to morbid
introspection, no matter how ‘good’ the pupil’s disposition may prove
to be. A boy should not have to ‘reflect’ as to whether he will rob
a bird’s nest or not.
[17] See Dr. John Dewey, “Interest as Related to Will,” National
Herbart Society, reprint for 1899.
168. Pleasure and pain arise so largely out of social relations that
the pupil must grow up amidst a social environment in order to become
somewhat acquainted with his natural place among men. This requirement
gives rise accordingly to solicitous precautions against a bad example
and rudeness. On the other hand, a boy’s companions should not be
chosen with such anxious care as if the intention were to spare him
the feeling of pressure which in all human society is generated by the
efforts and counter-efforts of men. Too great complaisance on the part
of playmates causes delusions as to the actual conditions of life.
Again, society and seclusion must alternate. The social current is not
to carry everything else along with it, and to become more powerful
than education. Even the boy, and much more the youth, must learn to be
alone, and to fill up his time profitably.
Unbroken association of the child with his mates tends to bring
him too exclusively under the influence of imitation and of acting
impulsively upon those forms of unreasoning suggestion which sway
the crowd, the gang, and the mob. To quote Professor Baldwin:[18]
“The characteristics of the social suggestions upon which the crowd
act show them to be strictly suggestions. They are not truths, nor
arguments, nor insights, nor inventions.... The suggestible mind
has very well known marks. Balzac hit off one of them in ‘Eugénie
Grandet’ in the question, ‘Can it be that collectively man has no
memory?’ We might go through the list of mental functions asking the
same question of them one by one. Has man collectively no thought, no
sense of values, no deliberation, no self-control, no responsibility,
no conscience, no will, no motive, no purpose? And the answer to
each question would be the same, No, he has none. The suggestible
consciousness is the consciousness that has no past, no future, no
height, no depth, no development, no reference to anything; it is
only in and out. It takes in and it acts out--that is all there is
to it.” It is here that we find the source of the youthful escapade
so common to street, school, and college, as well as of the adult
deeds of diabolism that have so often shocked the moral sense of the
American people. The child needs frequent opportunities to be alone,
when he can “come to himself” as a responsible person. Even where the
association with his mates is perfectly innocent, there is a growing
responsiveness to mere suggestion. This tendency is corrected by
attention to individual tasks and responsibilities.
[18] “Social and Ethical Interpretations,” pp. 236–237.
169. By living alternately with his equals in age and with adults, the
pupil grows familiar with diverse standards of honor. To unite these,
and to subordinate one to the other in a proper manner, will prove
an easy or a difficult part of training, according to the smaller or
greater gap between the value set on brute force on the one hand,
and the demand for good-breeding, as well as regard for talent and
knowledge, on the other. The main thing is not to foster ambition
artificially, though care must be taken at the same time to refrain
from crushing out a natural and true self-esteem. Usually, however,
those interested in the progress of a pupil stand in need themselves of
guarding against the self-deception due to extravagant hopes. By giving
themselves up to these, they involuntarily turn flatterers, and push
the boy, and the young man still more, beyond the position he is able
to maintain. Bitter experiences follow.
The tendency to an abnormal overestimation of the value of physical
excellence is seen in the attitude of the modern college toward
athletics. Doubtless the public as a whole still underestimates
the importance of fine physical development. Our modern life with
its nerve-racking occupation will shatter the efficiency of large
portions of the race, unless the physical organism is so developed
as to withstand the strain. This, if true of men, is still more
true of women, who are now undertaking many new lines of exhausting
labor, not the easiest of which is teaching. But the college student
is prone to adore muscle. The successful athlete is, for a brief
period, praised, petted, and advertised far more than is the ablest
student or professor in the institution. Scarcely do the noblest
achievements of science or philanthropy receive so much notice as
a successful full-back on a foot-ball team. The athlete goes up
indeed like a rocket, startling the ear and dazzling the eye for
a moment--then oblivion, or deserved obscurity. The teacher must
endeavor to displace this false estimate of values by one more true
if less exciting.
170. The regard for the value of things in their relation to the
ordinary necessities of life develops somewhat more slowly than the
natural sense of honor. This is true especially of money, which at
first boys rarely know how to use. Instead of saying, either this
or that, which a fixed sum will buy, the boy falls a victim to the
deception that lurks in saying, this _and_ that. In this respect also
the pupil needs to gain experience on a small scale; he must, moreover,
come to know the value of objects last, not merely in terms of money,
but also in terms of the inconvenience of doing without them. Warnings
against petty closeness are seldom necessary; not infrequently,
however, a boy follows common talk, and it may happen that he practises
parsimony by imitation, and squanders in obedience to his own impulses.
Where faults of this sort are not conquered by the pupil’s own sense of
honor, they fall within the province of moral education.
A modern device for teaching children the value of money, and
especially the usefulness of saving it, is the institution of
school savings banks. Here the pupil develops his instincts for
accumulation. At the same time he learns to inhibit his often
inordinate fondness for spending. If indulgence to self, accompanied
by penuriousness toward others, is permitted to grow into a habit in
childhood and youth, it becomes a source of much unhappiness in later
family life. Wife and children are often victims of this kind of
selfishness. Now that women are in the main the teachers of children,
they should have the interest of their sex sufficiently at heart
to inculcate suitable ideals and habits respecting the gathering
and spending of money. No form of selfishness is so obnoxious as
self-indulgence at the expense of those who have a natural right
to an equitable share of what is produced. The ‘meanness’ of such
conduct if constantly unveiled will effect its own cure.
171. When experience has taught the pupil to what extent he must endure
or need not endure the pressure of human society, and what honors,
objects, enjoyments, he can have or must do without, the question
arises: How does he connect all this with the pursuits which attract
or repel him? The thoughtful pupil soon realizes, without being told,
that one thing often makes another possible, that one thing involves or
conditions another. But upon the thoughtless boy this truth does not
impress itself with sufficient force; consequently, the teacher has to
help him to deepen that impression, because a man without a settled
mind regarding these matters remains devoid of character.
Yet a lack of fixedness is often desirable rather than otherwise--a
statement applying to those pupils whose intellectual interests
it is the business of instruction to awaken, or whose moral and
religious culture are as yet in a backward state. The objective part
of character (142) should not become fixed too soon; and very often a
large part of the value of training consists in retarding this process.
Such an end is subserved by the restraint under which the pupil is
kept by the subordinate position assigned to him in conformity with
his age, and particularly by the refusal of freedom to act without
permission, and according to his own inclination (152). The theoretical
judgment of will relations (149) is frequently late in maturing,
or remains weak in comparison with the impression produced by the
experiences mentioned. In that case moral ardor is also wanting, and if
the pupil were given liberty to do as he chose, his character would be
formed, to be sure, but in the wrong way. Rather would it be better to
encourage juvenile amusements, and even boyish games, beyond the usual
age limit.
172. Third. Regulative training begins its work with the first
appearance of the subjective part of character (143). For an earlier
period the rule not to argue with children holds good (164); that is,
it holds good as long as we can get along with it. That stage, however,
is passed when the pupil begins to reason for himself; in other words,
when his thinking has acquired such consecutiveness that his thoughts
no longer come and go as momentary fancies, but attain to permanency
and coherence. Reasoning processes of this sort ought not to be left
to themselves, nor can they be repressed by dictatorial decrees. The
educator must now enter into his pupil’s trains of reflection, must
argue with him and prevent further development in the wrong direction.
The tendency to set up rules reveals itself early; for example, in the
games of children. Commands as to what to do are given every moment,
only these imperatives are imperfectly obeyed and often changed.
Neither is there lack of original, childish resolutions; but they
can mean little so long as they do not remain the same. It is very
different when they acquire stability, when means and ends combine into
plans, when execution is attempted under difficulties, and finally when
these resolves are thought in the forms of general concepts, thereby
laying claim to validity in possible future instances, and becoming
thus transformed into maxims.
173. The wise forethought essential to regulative training requires in
the first place that the teacher shall rather tolerate an inconvenient
discussion than check a frank expression of opinion, provided the
objections of the pupil are indubitably sincere, and his vanity, we
will say, is not flattered too much by the unexpected consideration
accorded to his remarks. The same foresight is to be exercised in
cases where it proves impossible to convince the pupil at once. Here
the final judgment, instead of being insisted upon, should rather
be postponed; it will always be easy to point out to the pupil his
lack of adequate knowledge and to refer him to future studies. The
positiveness that usually characterizes the assertions of boys and
young men, generally has its roots in their great ignorance. They have
not the least inkling of how many opinions have been held and disputed.
Instruction will gradually cure them of their excessive self-confidence.
Only in a pure despotism would the enforcement of unquestioning
obedience to authority be admissible. No country aspiring to
political liberty could tolerate such a system. Even if all political
considerations were dismissed, the development of subjective
character alone would demand a condemnation of such a method. But in
a country like ours, where men are both personally and politically
self-governing, education to leadership is not second to education
to obedience. There comes a time, therefore, when argument is in
place, provided its purpose is to clarify the pupil’s insight into
prudence or duty. It will not be too much to insist upon obedience
without argument with all pupils so far as the ordinary school
virtues--regularity, punctuality, silence, and industry--are
concerned. Old and young can see their necessity. When it comes to
the more intricate phases of conduct, the grounds for authority, if
it is still exercised, may be revealed through dialogue. It is the
constant effort of training to establish regulative principles in the
minds of the older pupils, so that within the range of their capacity
they may become self-governing. In other words, the moral plateaus of
Kant are to be attained, not at a bound, but by a gradual progress
in moral autonomy. Herein we see the superiority of Herbart’s
conception of moral training. What Kant gave up as an unsolvable
problem, can be seen to be only a natural process. Says Kant, “How a
law can of itself directly determine the will is for human reason an
insoluble problem, for it is identical with the problem how a free
will is possible.”[19] The difficulty with Kant’s theory was that
he admitted no psychological means for attaining the free directive
power of the mind. He could only say to the child: “You are free; be
free. You are morally autonomous; exercise your power; be a free,
self-governing citizen.” Kant regarded natural impulses, emotions,
desires, pleasures, interests, as impure, hence to be rejected. They
are indeed to be rejected as the final ends of character, but what
Kant did not recognize is that they are the psychological means
for attaining character. Primarily these feelings, far from being
radically bad, as he thought, are radically good, since they help to
furnish the necessary conditions of survival, both for the individual
and for the race. Hunger, fear, courage, combativeness, prudence,
sexual instinct, inquisitiveness, love of adornment, frugality,
and a hundred other elemental passions have preserved the race
from destruction in the past. A new set of social and intellectual
impulses will in the future provide the instruments of survival,
now that the field of evolution is transported from the jungle to
the city. It is through intellectual insights that new ideals are
formulated; it is through these elemental feelings that the active
powers of the mind are stirred up to motor efficiency for their
realization. From being biological means for physical survival,
the feelings of man have now become psychological means for civic
survival. Psychologically, therefore, men are not born free; they
become free. To become free they must have opportunity to exercise
freedom; at first within definite but widening limits while they are
under the tuition of the school; later within the limits set by civil
society; at last absolutely, when they have recognized that what is
rational law in society is the law of their own being.
[19] “Selections,” p. 284.
174. But the matter of greatest importance from the point of view of
training is consistency or inconsistency of action. One who lightly
sets up maxims must be made to feel the difficulty of living up to
them. In this way a mirror is held up to the pupils, partly in order to
put to rout untenable maxims, and partly to reinforce valid principles.
Among the untenable maxims we include also those which, although in
accord with prudence, would offend against morality. If the pupil does
not see already that they cannot be maintained, the application, by
exhibiting their objectionable consequences, must bring to light their
true character.
175. Regulative training often calls for rousing words from the
teacher. He has to remind the pupil of happenings in the past and
predict future consequences in case his faults should continue; he has
to induce him to look within himself for the purpose of tracing the
causal connection of his actions to its source. If, however, this was
done earlier, with a view to moral education, no long speeches are now
needed. Moreover, the teacher’s remarks become calmer and briefer the
more effective they have been, the more he is justified in expecting
independent judgment on the part of the pupil, and finally the more
fully the latter has entered upon that period during which he looks
about him to observe the words and actions of strangers. For, at the
time when he has begun to compare the new with the old, his receptivity
for the old is very weak, and soon vanishes completely; unless,
indeed, the old had been deeply impressed beforehand.
The purpose of the “rousing word” is to stimulate the mind to
exercise its dynamic force to moral ends. The pupil must not be
permitted to assume the attitude of negation, or to be a mere passive
observer, or an innocent, devoid alike of power and significance,
but he must be roused into a responsible character, an efficient
participant in life’s activities. Successful appeal may be made to
insights already acquired, but theoretically held; to dispositions
implanted, but not yet actively exercised; to the application of
old habits to new uses. Even where appeal must be made against
objectionable conduct, it is better to apply the “inhibition of
substitution” to that of “negation.”[20] While protesting against the
evil, point the way to the right road.
[20] James, “Talks on Psychology,” p. 192.
176. Fourth. The pupil is to be kept in a quiet frame of mind; his
intellect in a state suitable for clear apprehension. To outbursts of
passion this applies absolutely; not so generally to emotions. Above
all, tranquillity is the condition for the formation of theoretical
judgments and hence also, although not exclusively so, for laying the
foundation of morality.
Every desire may develop into passion, if the soul is so often and so
long in a desiring state that thoughts become focussed in the object
longed for, whereby plans shape themselves, hopes arise, and ill-will
toward others strikes root. Accordingly, watchful attention must be
given to all persistent and recurrent desires.
177. The most usual desires are those which arise from the physical
need of food and of bodily activity. Now the first step to take is,
while guarding against excess, to satisfy these natural impulses in
order to subdue the unruliness springing from unsatisfied cravings.
We ought not to permit hunger to tempt a boy to steal, nor encourage
truancy by making him sit still too long. This warning is not
superfluous. Such things happen even in families where less irrational
practices might be expected. Over-indulgence, to be sure, is of far
more frequent occurrence.
When the natural wants have lost their sting, a positive and
irrevocable refusal must be opposed to further desires. With it should
be combined some occupation capable of diverting the attention.
If the object which continues to excite desire can be removed, all the
better. In one’s own home this is more often practicable, and more
necessary as well, than in that of strangers. If the object cannot
be removed, gratification may be put off until some future time. The
foregoing statement may be illustrated by reference to the eating of
fruit from the tree. An unconditional prohibition carries with it a
dangerous temptation to disobedience, while unconditional permission
would be equally inadmissible on account of the plucking of green
fruit, let alone the possible injury to the orchards of others.
Analogy will suggest many similar applications of the rule given.
178. Again, children must be watched at their games. The more free
play of the imagination we discover, and the more change there is,
the less cause for concern. But when the same game is frequently
repeated according to the same fixed rules, when a species of study is
devoted to it in order to attain special proficiency, passions may be
generated, such, for instance, as an excessive fondness for playing at
cards, even where no stakes are involved. Gambling must be forbidden
entirely, and in case compliance with this prohibition is doubtful,
obedience must be secured by watchful supervision.
To what end shall a teacher watch the games of children? To prevent
the bullying of the weak by the strong, to see that unfairness
does not creep in, to ward off vulgarity and profanity--these and
similar purposes will be in the mind of the teacher. One of the chief
functions of play, however, is to cultivate social efficiency. This
has two aspects, willingness to coöperate with a group and ability
to lead a group. It is necessary that there should be alternation
of leadership and coöperation. If one child is allowed to lead all
the time, he becomes overbearing; if another is always compelled to
follow, he becomes subservient. Each has a one-sided development.
Without discouraging unduly natural capacity for leadership, it
is well for the teacher quietly to see to it that each child has
his chance, both to lead and to follow. Just as the kindergarten
utilizes play to simulate the occupations of men, arousing sympathy
with them and respect for them, so the school may by proper
modification make the numerous group games, in which children
delight, a potent means for securing coöperative habits and a general
aptitude for social activities. Not a little attention is now paid
to the various forms of children’s play. This is especially true of
such publications as the _Pedagogical Seminary_, published at Clark
University, Worcester, Massachusetts.
179. An excellent means to avert the dangers connected with passionate
tendencies is to engage in the acquisition of one of the fine arts, say
music or drawing, even though there should be no more than a modicum of
talent. The student must be given to understand, however, that he is
not to take up the study of several musical instruments at once, nor
give himself up to distracting attempts in sundry branches of pictorial
representation. On the contrary, he is to strive consistently for
proficiency in one definite direction.
In the total absence of aptitude we may avail ourselves of preferences
of one kind or other, such as fondness for collecting plants or shells,
for work in papier-maché, for joinery, for gardening even, etc.
Poetical talent, highly desirable in itself, nevertheless demands a
solid counterweight in the shape of serious scholarly effort; for the
young poet sets up claims that are likely to prove dangerous if he
becomes absorbed in them.
The importance of this suggestion can hardly be overestimated. It
is a case of the permanent inhibition of a host of possible evil
tendencies by substitution. The youth who can turn with pleasure
to his violin at every spare moment, never seriously misses the
companionship of his mates. He has, moreover, a never failing source
of enjoyment when there is nothing to interfere with his happiness,
and an equally inexhaustible source of consolation when the waves of
life are rough.
180. Projects springing from passionate impulses, and betraying
their existence by their interference with order, diligence, and
the distribution of time, must be resolutely thwarted. This step is
rendered all the more urgent when several share in the same plan, above
all when ostentation, party spirit, and rivalry enter as impelling
factors. Such things must not be allowed to gain ground; they very
quickly vitiate the soil which education has been at such pains to
prepare for tillage.
181. The passions being kept at a distance, the successful grounding
of the pupil in morality depends in general on the manner in which
instruction coöperates with his occupations. The branch of instruction
primarily most important in this respect is religious instruction. The
most immediate source, however, of the development of disposition is
found in the pupil’s social environment, and it becomes the business
of training to cultivate a right spirit or disposition. Let us,
therefore, take up the practical ideas one by one.
England and Germany are a unit in insisting upon the necessity of
religious instruction in the schools. Half the elementary schools
of the former country are in charge of the Church of England,
five per cent are controlled by Roman Catholics, three per cent
by Wesleyans, and some forty-two per cent by public boards of
education. All of these schools are subsidized by the state, yet
all, with few exceptions, give religious instruction. In Germany
there are but two strong religious organizations--the Roman Catholic
Church, mostly at the south, and the Lutheran, mostly at the north.
The state establishes all schools, furnishing most of the funds
for sustaining them and controlling their administration in large
measure; yet the morning hour of the day is devoted to instruction
in religion. Not so in the United States. Here, religious teaching
is, to all appearances, permanently excluded from the public
schools. In this condition of affairs there is but one resource:
we must the more diligently insist upon those things that reflect
the content of religion. That is, we must teach children to live in
close coöperative union with their fellows. The subjective side of
this training is portrayed in the sections that follow, where the
transformation of ethical insights into ethical habits is discussed.
182. To speak of strife first, which cannot easily be wholly prevented
among children, and which is present to their minds, at least as a
possibility, self-help against unexpected bodily assaults cannot be
forbidden. A determined self-defence is rather to be recommended, but
self-defence paired with a merciful treatment of one’s assailant. On
the other hand, it is necessary to prohibit absolutely any arbitrary
appropriation of objects, even though these objects should consist
of ownerless or discarded trifles. No one must imagine that his mere
pleasure is a law unto others. On the contrary, children ought to get
used to limitations on ownership. That which has been given them for a
certain purpose is to be used for that purpose alone, and must be taken
care of with that purpose in view. Promises among children should not
lightly be declared void, however foolish and impossible of fulfilment.
The boy who, by a hasty promise, puts himself in an embarrassing
position must be made conscious of the fact. Let his perplexity serve
as a warning for the future. But over-hasty promises are to be accepted
as little as they are to be made; and here is where we have to begin in
untying the knots in which children occasionally entangle themselves.
It is not undesirable that pupils by their own acts furnish themselves
with a few keenly-felt instances of complicated questions of rights.
But pleasure in wrangling must be discountenanced; the pupils should
learn to prevent and to avoid contention. They may gain enough
familiarity with it to realize that it gives displeasure.
183. At this point two paths open to our reflection. In the first
place, contention pleases children because it implies strength; in
seeking it they are, as a rule, merely giving vent to excess of animal
spirits. The outlet in this direction we must block, but we must
furnish another elsewhere. Gymnastic exercises, too, are exhibitions
of strength; emulation, which is not contention, is a welcome
feature of sport and play. Mental activity likewise affords suitable
opportunities for excelling; it also provides proper occasions for
making comparisons; but relative excellence, children must understand
distinctly, is not to be advanced by them as a basis for claims. Where
the question is one of degree of attainment,--therefore one of _perfice
te_,--the pupil is supplied with a practically useful standard by his
own progress and retrogression. To hold up one pupil as a model for
another to follow awakens envy; it will be much better, instead, to
make allowances where a weak pupil cannot do more than he is actually
doing.
In all the ages of the past men have been the teachers of boys. Being
men, they have naturally taken the man’s attitude toward youthful
conduct. When one boy is gratuitously assaulted by another, they have
upheld a sturdy self-defence as belonging to self-respect. In their
eyes an unsuccessful defence is better than a cowardly retreat. With
the advent of women as the teachers of boys it is natural that the
doctrine of passive non-resistance should be emphasized. When women
were only the physical mothers of the race, there was no danger of
the decay of virility, but now that they have become the intellectual
mothers as well, there may be such a danger. It is generally
conceded that the English boys’ schools, like Eton, Harrow, and
Rugby, have been the best English conservers of independent manhood,
for there every boy stood on his own merits, having to fight his own
battles, being responsible for his own conduct, and at the same time
living under a high code of boyish honor. In our own public schools,
where no such _esprit de corps_ is possible, and where the doctrine
of peace at any price is likely to be insisted upon, it is possible
that there may be a distinct decline of virility in the boys. Such
a result would be deplorable; it would work to the detriment of
public education, and would decrease in public estimation the value
of woman’s services in the schoolroom. While discouraging strife, a
teacher may, by a word of approval or excuse, justify an exercise of
primitive defence of the person against unwarranted assault. Manly
social games, like foot-ball, basket-ball, base-ball, are our best
resources in developing those phases of character that are closely
associated with motor efficiency. Here under proper guidance,
self-control, sense of power and efficiency, courage, and almost
every characteristic of virility may be happily developed. That
forethought and supervision are needed is most true, else unlovely
traits of character may easily get the upper hand.
184. The second of the two ways alluded to takes us from the idea of
rights to that of equity. Strife is displeasing, but revenge still
more, notwithstanding the truth of the saying: what is fair for one
is fair for another. Children may indeed exercise their ethical
acumen by trying to determine how much one deserves to suffer or to
receive at the hands of others for the liberties he has taken or the
self-restraint he has practised, but they are not to arrogate to
themselves the function of inflicting punishments or of bestowing
rewards. Without surrendering their own insight, they must in this
respect submit willingly to the authority of their superiors.
A similar course is to be pursued with reference to the distribution
of presents, enjoyments, and marks of approval. To avoid giving the
appearance of favoritism, the teacher should not, except for very good
reasons, depart from the principle of equal division; but, on the other
hand, he should refuse to accord to the pupils a right to these free
gifts. While permitting them to have an opinion on the appropriateness
of a greater or smaller share, he will properly deny them any right to
demand by virtue of this opinion.
185. In cases deeply engaging the children’s own sense of justice and
equity, complaisance and readiness to yield should not be exacted on
the spot. Children must have time to get to the end of their thoughts,
and to weary of what is often very fruitless brooding, before they
realize that to yield is after all a necessity, and hence in no sense a
matter of magnanimous choice. At some future time they may be reminded
that their path would have been smoother if the sentiment of good-will
had been in control from the beginning and had arbitrated the dispute,
or rather had prevented it entirely.
Good-will is to be revered everywhere as higher than right; still the
latter must be represented as something that cannot be set aside with
impunity, unless it be by common agreement; that is, in consequence of
the consent of the holders of rights.
There are two distinct aspects to good-will,--the benevolent, and
the coöperative or social. The well-known story of the Jericho Road
illustrates the first. He is the good neighbor who rescues the life
of the man who has been assaulted by the way. But social good-will
is more than benevolence; it is coöperation for the accomplishment
of common purposes. Among farmers it means mutual care to prevent
aggression, because of unruly stock or bad fences; it involves
combined efforts for good schools, good roads, public libraries,
educational agencies for promoting successful farming, associations
for promoting successful pleasures. In cities social good-will means
coöperation for paving and lighting streets, for the suppression of
crime, for furnishing good water and efficient sewerage, for defence
against fire, for rapid transit, besides the myriad agencies for
promoting the mental, moral, and spiritual welfare of the people.
A man in a city needs to be a good neighbor to everybody, even
though he may know personally but one in a million. In other words,
the civic man must be a brother, not only to him who falls among
thieves, but to him who lives among them; not only to his brother in
adversity, but also to his brother in prosperity.
186. Finally, the degrees of difference among older boys, and
especially among young men, with respect to the nearness with which
they approach the still distant realization of the idea of inner
freedom, are, as a rule, sufficiently marked to be patent to all. The
superior excellence of those distinguished for steady and rational
conduct is usually dwelt on by the teacher rather too much than too
little; children are themselves too keen in observing each other’s
shortcomings not to see how far behind the best some are. We ought,
therefore, rather to avoid stimulating in children the tendency to
belittle others, than to turn their attention to that which does not
escape them anyway.
187. The bad conduct of adults near to the pupils will not, of course,
be exposed by the teacher; and if publicly known, the example set
will repel more than allure, so long as self-interest does not prompt
imitation or a search for excuses. But we need not entertain much
hope either that a worthy example will be followed; youth is too
prone to regard rectitude as a matter of course. Hence it will not be
superfluous to call special attention to right conduct, and to give
expression to the esteem which is its due. This applies particularly
to the time when a growing boy’s outlook over society widens, and he
begins to compare many things whose false glitter might deceive him.
There are many aspects of inner freedom. It is possible for a
narrow-minded man to live in perfect tranquillity, so far as his
conscience is concerned. Even if one lived true to Kant’s categorical
imperative, which says, “So act that the maxims, or rules, of your
conduct might, through your own will, become universal laws,” it
would still be possible for one to have a mind at peace with itself
while doing things that a higher code of morality would forbid. For
example, suppose I am an American Indian, and the question arises,
Shall I torture my enemies? Of course: do not the traditions of my
tribe prescribe it? This simply means that our ideals of conduct
grow out of our environment; they are social in their genesis. This
truth shows the infinite importance of making instruction reveal
clearly the best ideals of religion and civilization, for there may
be as much inward freedom, or good conscience, in the slums as in the
wealthy districts of the city. Subjective peace of mind may mean much
or little. A murderer may sleep as soundly as a missionary, but a man
of high ideals is whipped as with scorpions, if his conduct be base.
He feels that his higher self is outraged; he has no peace except
through repentance, restitution, and reform.
188. Fifth. The pupil’s mind, we will suppose, has been properly
directed, partly through the social relations obtaining among children,
partly through examples and instruction, to the requirements of the
various moral ideas, and he has learned accordingly to discriminate
with some keenness between will relations. Now the time has arrived for
moral education in the strict sense. For we cannot leave it to chance
whether our young charges will, of their own initiative, synthesize
for themselves noble actions on the one hand and base actions on the
other, whether they will take time to reflect, and will, each for
himself, apply the lessons taught. On the contrary, they all have to
be told, each one individually has to be told, truths that no one is
wont to hear with pleasure. The more thoroughly the teacher knows his
pupils, the better. By showing them that he divines their thoughts, he
supplies them with the most effectual incentive to self-observation.
Now the basis of what is commonly known as moralizing is furnished
by a retrospective view of the pupil’s conduct for some time past,
by references to influences formerly at work within him, and by an
analysis of his good and bad qualities. Such teaching is by no means
to be condemned, nor even to be regarded as superfluous. In its proper
place it is absolutely essential. Many, it is true, grow up without
ever having heard a serious word of deserved censure, but no one ought
to grow up in that way.
189. Only praise and censure are thought of here, not harsh words, much
less harsh treatment. Reprimands and punishments following upon single
acts are something different; they, too, may lead to moral reflections,
but must first have become things of the past. Moral improvement is not
brought about by the constraint of government, nor is it the result
of those pedagogical punishments which warn the pupil and sharpen his
wits by means of the natural consequences of actions (157). But it is
brought about through the imitation of the language of conscience and
of genuine honor, as seen in impartial spectators. Moreover, this
does not exclude consideration of the excuses which every one readily
finds in his heart. But while due allowance is made for mitigating
circumstances, the pupil is cautioned against relying on them in future.
190. Ordinarily youth deserves neither strong commendation nor severe
criticism, and it is well to guard carefully against exaggeration
in either direction, if for no other reason than merely this, that
exaggeration either detracts from effectiveness, or else causes,
if not timidity, at least an unfortunate embarrassment. There is
one species of magnifying, however, which subserves a good purpose,
because it enables pupils to see more clearly the importance of
trifles and the great significance of their own actions, and in this
way helps to counteract thoughtlessness. We refer to viewing the
present in the light of the future. The pettiest faults are liable to
grow through habit; the faintest desire, unless kept under control,
may turn into passion. Then, too, the future circumstances of one’s
life are uncertain; allurements and temptations may come into it, or
unlooked-for misfortunes. This prevision of the possibilities of the
future is, of course, not prophecy, and no such claim should be made
for it; nevertheless, it does good service as a warning.
191. When the pupil has been brought to the point where he regards
his moral education as a matter of serious import, instruction in
conjunction with a growing knowledge of the world may bring it about
that a glow of moral sentiment permeates his whole thought, and that
the idea of a moral order unites on the one hand with his religious
concepts, and with his self-observation on the other. Henceforth the
direct, emphatic expression of praise or censure will have to be less
frequent. It will no longer be as easy as formerly to give a clearer
account to the pupil of what goes on within him than he has already
rendered to himself. We may still, however, come to his assistance from
another direction, namely, that of general concepts,--a field in which
advancing youthful reflection is little by little finding its bearings.
192. Sixth. It is the business of training to remind at the right
moment and to correct faults. We may safely assume that, even after a
young man has reached the plane of moral decisions, he will still stand
in need of frequent reminders, although in this respect individuals
exhibit great differences, which observation alone is able to reveal.
But that which he is reminded of consists of resolves which lay claim
to something like universal validity, but which are not likely to make
good that claim when incorrectly formulated or conceived in the wrong
connection. General considerations become predominant with only a very
few at best; but youth especially sees and experiences so much that
is new that the old is easily slighted for the new, and, accordingly,
the general for the particular still more. Nevertheless, it is far
easier for training to remind and to correct with success where a good,
firm foundation has been laid, than it is to support (161–166) when in
adolescence nothing is found by which the pupil might try to steady
himself.
193. It is evident from the wide divergence among the principles which
schools old and new have accepted as the basis of ethics and of systems
of justice, that many conflicting, or at any rate, one-sided views may
arise when the attempt is made to introduce order, definiteness, and
consistency into existing ethical concepts. This whole conflict and
one-sidedness of opinion, together with the innumerable fluctuations
that may find a place here besides,--all this is likely to be
reproduced in youthful minds, particularly where they make it a point
of going their own way. Very frequently acquired principles adjust
themselves to inclinations; the subjective side of character adapts
itself to the objective. Now, while it is the business of instruction
to correct error, training must avail itself of those opportunities
that reveal a directing of thoughts by inclination.
194. When, however, the pupil has once established confidence
in his disposition as well as in his principles, training must
withdraw. Unnecessary judging and over-anxious observation would only
impair naturalness, and give rise to extraneous motives. When once
self-culture has been assumed, it should be left alone.
SECTION IV
SYNOPSIS OF GENERAL PEDAGOGICS FROM THE POINT OF VIEW OF AGE
CHAPTER I
=The First Three Years=
195. Owing to the delicate character of the thread of life during
the earliest years, care for the body, a subject falling outside the
limits of the present discussion, has precedence of everything else.
The state of health, accordingly, implies great variations in the time
available for profitable culture of the mind. But short as this time
may be, it is extremely important, because of the great receptivity and
susceptibility of the first period of life.
The lines of study suggested by these few remarks upon infancy have
been arduously pursued in recent years by Perez,[21] Preyer,[22]
Baldwin,[23] and others. The attempt has been made in these works
to show how the psychical and physical powers of the young child
actually unfold. In this way it has been possible to correct many
erroneous deductions from adult psychology, thus making elementary
training more successful.
[21] Perez, “The First Three Years of Childhood.”
[22] Preyer, (a) “Mental Development in the Child,” (b) “The
Development of the Intellect,” (c) “The Senses and the Will.”
[23] Baldwin, (a) “Mental Development in the Child and the Race,”
(b) “Social and Ethical Interpretations.”
196. Those moments when the child is fully awake and free from
suffering should always be utilized by presenting, but not obtruding,
something for sense-perception. Powerful impressions are to be avoided.
The same caution applies to violent changes; very slight variations
often suffice to revive waning attention. It is desirable to secure a
certain completeness of eye- and ear-impressions, so that the senses
may be equally at home everywhere within the fields of sight and sound.
197. As far as safety permits, the spontaneous activity of the child
should have free play, primarily that he may get practice in the use of
every limb, but also in order that by his own attempts his observations
of objects and their changeableness may be enlarged.
198. Unpleasant, repellent impressions of persons, whoever they are,
must be most carefully guarded against. No one can be allowed to treat
a child as a plaything.
199. On the other hand, no one must allow himself to be ruled by a
child, least of all when the child becomes importunate. Otherwise,
wilfulness will be the inevitable consequence, a result almost
unavoidable with sickly children, by reason of the attention demanded
by their sufferings.
200. A child must always feel the superiority of adults, and often his
own helplessness. The necessary obedience is founded on this feeling.
With consistent treatment, persons constantly about the child will
secure obedience more readily than others who are rarely present.
Outbursts of passion must be given time to subside unless circumstances
urgently require a different course.
201. On rare occasions there may be an exhibition of force inspiring
enough fear to make a threat effective and to check an excess of animal
spirits. For if government is to escape the extremely harmful necessity
of severe disciplinary measures later on, it must become firmly
established during the earliest years of childhood.
202. The language of children demands scrupulous attention from the
beginning, in order to prevent the formation of incorrect and careless
habits of speech, which at a later period it usually requires much
trouble and loss of time to eradicate. But literary forms of expression
that are beyond the comprehension of children are to be strictly
avoided.
CHAPTER II
=The Ages from Four to Eight=
203. The real boundary line is fixed not by age, but by that stage of
development when the helplessness of the first stage is superseded by
control of the limbs and a connected use of language. And the mere
fact that children are now able to free themselves from much momentary
discomfort carries with it greater calmness and cheerfulness.
204. In proportion as the child learns to help himself, assistance from
without must be withdrawn. At the same time government must increase
in firmness, and with many children in severity, until the last traces
of that wilfulness vanish, which the former period does not as a rule
wholly escape. But this presupposes that no one provoke the child
unnecessarily to any kind of resistance. The firmer the established
order of things about the child, the readier his compliance.
205. The child must be given as much freedom as circumstances will
permit, one purpose being to induce frank self-expression, and to
obtain data for a study of his individuality. Still, the main thing
at this age is to guard against bad habits, especially such as are
connected with objectionable tendencies of disposition.
206. Two of the ethical ideas concern us here directly, each, however,
in its own way. They are the ideas of good-will and perfection. Some
particular aspects of the latter a child will almost always hit upon
himself. The former less often springs up spontaneously; it has to be
implanted, and this cannot always be done directly.
207. The ill-will, which many children exhibit frequently, is always
a bad sign,--one that needs to be treated very seriously. A character
once perverted in this respect can no longer be radically changed
for the better. And this perversion sometimes begins very early. The
steps to be taken in this connection are determined by the following
considerations:--
208. In the first place, younger children are not to be left alone very
much. Their life should be a social life, and their social circle one
subject to strict order. This requirement fulfilled, all manifestations
of ill-will are at variance with the rule; and as soon as they appear,
the child finds himself opposed by the existing state of things. Now,
the more he has grown accustomed to participation in the common will,
to occupying his time, and being happy within its pale, the less will
he be able to bear the feeling of isolation. To punish a child for an
exhibition of ill-will, leave him alone.
209. But such punishment presupposes the undiminished sensitiveness of
the younger child, who, on being left alone, begins to cry, and feels
utterly helpless and weak, but who, on the other hand, becomes cheerful
again the moment he is readmitted into the social circle. If this
period has been neglected, if the ill-disposed child has already caused
aversion in the circle in which he could have been happy, one feeling
of ill-will begets another in return, and nothing remains but to insist
on strict justice.
210. The mere social spirit which keeps ill-will at a distance, is, of
course, very far from being good-will; children are even prone to look
upon descriptive illustrations of the latter, in the ordinary run of
books for children, as fables easily invented. Hence the first thing
to make sure of is faith in good-will. We have in mind here especially
the child who through force of habit has lost his appreciation of the
kindnesses constantly showered upon him in the course of his education.
Deprive him of some of the care to which he is accustomed; its renewal
will then make him recognize and prize it as a voluntary act. When,
on the contrary, children regard what is being done for them as their
right, or as the effect of some sort of mechanism, this blunder of
theirs becomes a fruitful source of the most manifold moral evils.
211. To the union of kindness with the necessary degree of severity, we
must add friendliness, lest the heart of the child become chilled, and
the germs of good-will perish. During the period under consideration,
the child’s frame of mind is still determined directly by the treatment
he receives. Continued unfriendliness of manner produces dull
indifference. The twofold problem of lifting the idea of good-will into
adequate prominence and of actually awakening sentiments of good-will
can, it is true, not be solved as early as childhood. But much has been
gained if sympathy, supported by sociable cheerfulness, unites with a
belief in the good-will of those on whom the child feels dependent, as
if they were higher beings. The soil is ready now for religious culture
and its furthering influences.
212. The idea of perfection in its universal aspect is indeed as
foreign to the child’s mind as that of good-will; nevertheless, the
rudiments of what this idea implies can be imparted with far greater
assurance of success. As the child grows and thrives, his strength
and accomplishments increase likewise, and he takes pleasure in his
own progress. But here innumerable differences in kind and in degree
demand our observation, particularly in view of the purpose of linking
instruction to the stage of growth. For it is during this period that
synthetic as well as analytic instruction begins, although it does not
as yet normally constitute the chief occupation of the child.
213. As the child’s sphere of free activity widens and his own
attempts create a growing store of experiences, which the teacher will
often find it very necessary to augment by purposely showing him about,
the earlier fancies are gradually being overbalanced by experiential
knowledge, although different individuals may exhibit great variations
of ratio. From this impulse to appropriate the new, spring the numerous
questions children put to the teacher, on the tacit assumption that he
is omniscient. They are the outcome of the mood of the moment, they are
purposeless, and most of them do not recur if not answered then and
there. Many of them concern words alone, and cease on mention of some
suitable designation of the object in question. Others relate to the
connection of events, especially to motives underlying the actions of
human beings, fictitious and real alike. Now, although many questions
cannot, while others must not, be answered, the tendency to ask
questions should, generally speaking, receive constant encouragement as
a sign of native interest, of the absence of which the teacher often
becomes painfully aware later on without being able by any skill on his
part to revive it. Here an opportunity is presented for preparing the
ground in many directions for future instruction. Only, the teacher
has to refrain, in answering questions, from the prolixity of untimely
thoroughness; what he ought to do is to sail on the waves of childish
fancy. And this does not usually lend itself to experiments; its
movements are, on the contrary, often inconveniently capricious.
214. So long as there can be no fixed time for the analytic lessons
woven into answers to the questions of children, analytic instruction
is coincident with the guidance of the child’s attention, with his
social intercourse, with his occupations and the consequent cultivation
of habits, with hardening exercises, ethical judgments, and the
earliest religious impressions; in some measure also with reading
exercises.
215. To the latter portion of this period belong the first steps in
synthetic instruction, reading, writing, ciphering, the simplest modes
of arrangement, and the first observation exercises. If the child
is as yet incapable of uniform attention during a whole hour, the
teacher will be satisfied with smaller divisions of time; the degree of
attention is more important than its duration.
Note that the subjects enumerated fall into different groups. Counting,
arranging, observing, are different phases of the natural development
of the mind. Instruction does not create these activities; its business
is merely to accelerate them. At the beginning, therefore, our mode
of procedure must be as much as possible analytic. On the other hand,
reading and writing can be taught only synthetically, although on the
basis of an antecedent analysis of speech sounds.
(1) Arranging--commonly neglected, though wrongly so--is an
exceedingly easy exercise in itself, and facilitates the performance of
many other tasks. It is therefore appropriate for children. That three
objects may change places from right to left (from front to rear, from
above to below) and _vice versa_--this is the beginning. The next step
is to show that three objects admit of six permutations in a straight
line. To find how many pairs can be formed out of a given number of
objects, is one of the easiest problems. How far to go, is a matter to
be determined by circumstances. Not letters, however, but objects,--the
children themselves,--should be changed about, permuted, and varied in
position. The teaching of a subject like this must in a measure have
the semblance of play.
(2) The first observation exercises begin with straight lines drawn
vertically or cross-wise. Use may be made also of knitting needles
variously placed, side by side or across each other, of domino checks,
and of similar objects. Next comes the circle, subdivided and presented
in manifold ways.
(3) For arithmetic, likewise, concrete objects are needed,--coins,
for example, which are counted and arranged in different groups to
illustrate sums, differences, and products. At first the highest number
employed should not exceed, say, twelve or twenty.
(4) For work in reading we may avail ourselves of letters and numbers
printed on cards, which lend themselves to a variety of arrangements.
If children are slow about learning to read, the blunder must not be
made of neglecting their mental culture in other directions, as though
reading were its necessary prerequisite. Reading often demands a large
amount of patience, and should never be allowed to produce a feeling of
aversion to teachers and books.
(5) Writing is ushered in by the elementary drawing that must accompany
observation exercises. Writing itself, when once well started, furthers
reading.
216. But already at this point many fall behind. Puzzled at first by
the demand upon them for the dull labor of learning, they surrender
themselves later on to the feeling of incapacity. In large schools,
where there are always some outstripping the rest, and where the
majority are trying to keep up with the pace set, performance can be
had more readily, although it is performance by imitation rather than
by an inner sequence of thought. And even here we find thoroughly
disheartened laggards.
CHAPTER III
=Boyhood=
217. The boundary line between boyhood and early childhood is fixed, so
far as this is possible at all, by the fact that the boy, if allowed to
do so, will leave the company of adults. Formerly he felt insecure when
left alone: now he considers himself fairly well acquainted with his
immediate environment, beyond which vistas of all sorts are opening.
Accordingly, at this stage it becomes incumbent on the adult to attach
himself to the boy, to restrain him, to divide the time for him, and
to circumscribe the fancies born of his self-confidence,--a course of
action rendered all the more necessary by the circumstance that the boy
is a stranger as yet to the timidity with which the youth joins the
ranks of men. For boyhood is marked off from adolescence by this, that
the boy’s aims are still unsettled; he plays and takes no thought of
to-morrow. Moreover, his dream of manhood is one of arbitrary power.
The play-impulse remains active for a long time, unless checked by
conventionality.
During this period, the work of linking instruction to sense-impression
is by no means to be omitted entirely, not even where fair progress
has already been made in scholarship. We must make sure of a solid
foundation.
218. Our chief concern during the age of boyhood must be to prevent
the premature fixation of the circle of ideas. It is for instruction
to undertake the task of doing so. True, by far the greatest part of
the process of learning, however manifold, is performed through the
interpretation of words, the pupil supplying the meaning out of the
mental store collected previously. But this very fact obviously implies
that quantitively the pupil’s stock of ideas is for the most part
complete; instruction merely works it up into new forms. Accordingly,
such shaping must take place while the material is still in a plastic
state; for with increasing years it gradually assumes a more solid
character.
219. Boys differ from girls, individuals differ from one another;
and the subjects taught, together with the methods of teaching them,
should be differentiated accordingly. But here the family interposes
the interests of rank or station, and claims the right to determine by
these how much or how little instruction a boy needs.
Looked at pedagogically, each study calls for a corresponding mental
activity to be suited to the general condition of the individual. Its
success must not involve exhaustion of the pupil’s powers, nor make
demands upon them at the wrong time.
But it would be an error to argue that one who is being initiated
into one subject ought to combine with that subject a second, third,
or fourth, on the ground that subjects one, two, three, and four are
essentially interrelated. This conclusion holds for scholars, who,
so far as they are personally concerned, have long passed beyond
preliminary pedagogical considerations, and even in their case it
applies only to those branches which are intimately connected with
their specialties; it has nothing to do with the psychological
conditions by which the course of education must be governed. Only too
frequently do masses of ideas remain isolated despite the fact that
the objects corresponding to them are most intimately and necessarily
interconnected; and such isolation could not have been prevented by
merely starting work in a large web of erudition in a number of places.
The case is different where certain studies constitute the necessary
preparation for thorough knowledge of one kind or another. Here we are
right in concluding that one who cannot master the former is equally
unable to get hold of the latter.[24]
[24] These remarks upon correlation are instructive in view of later
developments of the Herbartian school in Germany. The reader is
referred to discussions in the First and Second Year-Books of the
National Herbart Society.
220. It is difficult to deal with the rare instances of tardy
development unless we find that they are due to neglected health,
or to lack of assistance in enlarging the range of experience, and
to failure to change the mode of instruction. Here an attempt may be
made to supply what is wanting. But even where the rate of progress
becomes more rapid at once, the teacher’s efforts will have turned
out favorably only when the boy gives also clear proof of a vigorous
striving for advancement.
221. To revert to fundamental ethical principles, particular mention of
the ideas of justice and equity needs to be made in this connection.
These ideas issue from reflection on human relations; they are
consequently less accessible to early childhood, which finds itself
subordinated everywhere to the family. The boy, on the other hand,
lives more among his peers, and the necessary corrections are not
always administered so promptly as to leave no time for independent
judgment. Not infrequently voluntary association takes place among
boys, personal authority plays a part, and even usurpation of power is
not rare. Now, education has to provide for clear ethical concepts and
for government and training besides. But not only that; it must also
furnish the kind of instruction that will exhibit similar but remote
relations, for purposes of unbiassed contemplation. Such instruction
must borrow its material from poetry and history.
222. To history we are referred by still another consideration. As
has already been shown (206–211), the idea of good-will points to
the necessity of religious culture; and this relies for support on
stories, old stories at that. The expansion of the pupil’s power of
thought which is here demanded must be generally attained, even though
very incompletely, in every course of instruction, that of the village
school included.
223. Another fixed goal, the importance of which exceeds even that of
reading and writing, is furnished by arithmetic, which gives clearness
to the common concepts of experience, and is indispensable in the
practical affairs of life.
224. Decimal arithmetic no pupil would be likely to think out by
himself; he would very certainly not invent Bible history. Both must
accordingly be regarded as belonging preëminently to the province of
synthetic instruction, which always involves the difficult problem of
how to assure its entrance, as a potent factor, into existing masses
of ideas. As to this, it would be a blunder to conclude that, since
Bible history and history as a whole, arithmetic and mathematics as
a whole, hang together, there is also a corresponding pedagogical
connection (219). But so much is certain, that the efficiency of
a group of ideas increases with expansion and with multiplied
association. It will be an advantage, therefore, to Bible history
and to arithmetic, if as wide a range is given to historical and
mathematical teaching as circumstances and ability permit, even if
the conditions should be such that a many-sided culture is not to be
expected.
225. The subjects next to be considered in the choice of material for
instruction are poetry and natural history, great care being taken
not to disregard the necessary sequence. The time for fables and
stories should not be curtailed; it is important to make sure that
boys do not lose the taste for them too early. The easiest and safest
facts of zoölogy will have been presented already in connection with
the picture-books of childhood. The right moment for introducing the
elements of botany has arrived when the boy is collecting plants.
Foreign languages would be assigned the lowest place, if particular
circumstances did not in many cases lend them a special importance.
The ancient classical languages, at any rate, form to such an extent
the basis of the study of theology, of jurisprudence, and of medicine,
they are so necessary to all higher scholarship, that they will
always constitute the fundamental branches of instruction in academic
preparatory schools.
It is obvious, however, that the extent of instruction depends too
much on external conditions of rank and means to permit a definite
prescription of instruction-material for all cases. Far less dependent
is the development of many-sided interest in its relation to branches
of study. If the limits set to the latter are narrow, it is still the
business of instruction to secure an approximation to many-sided
culture; while under highly favorable circumstances the very abundance
of educational help must put the teacher on his guard against losing
sight of the real aim of instruction.
226. Frequently the burden of necessary and useful studies is made
excessively heavy, a fact which the members of the teaching profession
try to conceal from themselves, but which attracts the attention of
outsiders. A few hours of gymnastics do not sufficiently counteract
such evil effects. As an offset we have at best the prevention of
the vices of idleness. From every point of view, for the mere reason
that this matter calls for special attention and that the method of
procedure has to be determined in accordance with the results of
observation, the home must do its part toward relieving that natural
strain which even good instruction exerts--and the school must not
encroach on the time necessary for that purpose. In extreme cases, to
be sure, it may be expressly demanded that the school engage the whole
of a boy’s time. But, as a rule, outside school-work should take up,
not the largest, but, on the contrary, the smallest amount of time
possible. How the remaining hours are to be employed is for parents
and guardians to decide according to individual needs, ascertained
by observation; and it is on them that the responsibility for the
consequences rests.
CHAPTER IV
=Youth=
227. Whether instruction comes to an end or is continued during
this period, all it can accomplish depends now on the fulfilment
of the condition that the young man himself regard the retention
and increase of his attainments as something valuable. Accordingly,
the interrelations of knowledge, as well as its connection with
action, must be brought before his mind with the greatest possible
distinctness. He must be furnished, also, with the strongest incentives
to reach the goal determined upon, provided the question is merely how
to overcome indolence and thoughtlessness. For it is just at this stage
that the teacher needs to fear and to prevent those wrong motives which
would issue merely in an artificial semblance of talent.
228. Moreover, the allowance made for the child and the boy can no
longer be made for the youth. His whole ability is to be put to the
test, and his position in human society determined according to the
outcome. He must experience something of the difficulty of obtaining
a foothold among men. Positions for which he does not seem quite
prepared are contested; he is surrounded by rivals, and is spurred
on by expectations, which it is often difficult to moderate when most
necessary.
229. If now the young man puts his trust in favorable circumstances,
and, in spite of all appeals, gives himself up to the pursuit of ease
and pleasure, education is at an end. It only remains to conclude with
precepts and representations which future experiences may possibly
recall.
230. If, on the other hand, the youth has his eyes fixed on a definite
goal, the form of life which he is striving to attain, and the motives
that impel him, will determine what else may be done for him. According
as the ideals of honor that he makes his own are directed more
outwardly or inwardly, they stand more or less midway between plans for
actions and maxims.
231. The youth is no longer pliant, except when his failures have made
him feel ashamed of himself. Such cases must be made use of for the
purpose of making good deficiencies. But on the whole, duty requires
that the stern demands of morality be held up to him without disguise.
Perfect frankness can hardly be looked for any longer, and to insist
on it is out of the question entirely. The reserve of the age of
adolescence marks the natural beginning of self-control.
These brief paragraphs on the development of the individual through
infancy, childhood, boyhood, and youth, mark an early interest
in what is now known as child-study, the literature of which has
become voluminous. For a dissertation on the experimental study of
children, and a bibliography of the subject, the reader is referred
to the monograph by Arthur McDonald, of the United States Bureau of
Education, entitled “Experimental Study of Children.” A smaller but
more useful bibliography has been compiled by L. N. Wilson. It is
found in _Pedagogical Seminary_ for September, 1899.
PART III
_SPECIAL APPLICATIONS OF PEDAGOGICS_
SECTION I
REMARKS ON THE TEACHINGS OF PARTICULAR BRANCHES OF STUDY
CHAPTER I
=Religion=
232. The content of religious instruction is for theologians to
determine, while philosophy bears witness that no knowledge is able to
surpass the trust of religious faith. But both the beginning and the
end of religious instruction call for remarks from the point of view of
pedagogy.
Religious instruction culminates, if it does not end, in the rite of
confirmation, and the subsequent admission to the Holy Communion. The
former is characteristic of a particular Christian denomination; the
latter, on the contrary, of the whole brotherhood of Christians.
Now the profound emotion which marks the first Communion service
should imply a conquest over the feeling of separation from other
denominations, especially since the mere admission to Communion is
conditioned on the general requirement of earnest ethical aspiration.
It is thus assumed that members of other confessions, provided they are
communicants at all, have fulfilled the same condition. Preparatory
instruction must work toward this end all the more, since with many
persons Christian love for those who differ from them in important
articles of faith belongs to the more difficult duties. Moreover, the
fact that this same instruction necessarily had to set forth clearly
fundamental denominational differences, lends additional weight to the
necessity of inculcating the virtue of Christian charity.
233. In academic schools, if Greek is begun early enough, it is
possible to deepen the impressions of Christian teaching by the
dialogues of Plato that bear on the death of Socrates, particularly
the “Crito” and the “Apology.” Being the weaker, however, impressions
of this sort should precede the time when the solemn initiation into
Christian fellowship produces its whole powerful effect.
234. Going back in thought, we find that the portion of religious
instruction which deals with characteristic denominational
distinctions, presupposes that which deals with tenets common to all
Christians, and we find that this in turn has been preceded by Bible
stories, including those of the Old Testament. But the question arises,
“Must we not go back to something more fundamental still?”
235. Religion cannot possibly be adequately presented by treating of it
merely as a perpetuation of something historical and past. The teacher
must needs make use also of the present testimony furnished by the
adjustment of means to end, in nature. But even this, for which some
knowledge of nature is prerequisite, and which leads up to the ideas of
wisdom and power, is not the first step.
236. True family feeling is elevated easily and directly to the idea
of the Father, of the father and mother. Only where such feeling is
wanting does it become necessary to make churches and Sunday observance
the starting-point as indications of humility and gratitude. An
all-pervading love, providence, and watchful care constitute the first
concept of the Highest Being,--a concept limited by the mental horizon
of the child, and expanding and becoming more elevated only by degrees.
237. The process of elevating religious concepts and purifying them
of unworthy admixtures must, however, have taken place, and the true
concepts must have been deeply impressed, before the mythological
conceptions of antiquity become known; in which case the latter will
produce the right effect by the contrast between the manifestly
fabulous and crude, and the worthy and sublime. If managed properly,
this subject presents no difficulties.
238. But there are other difficulties,--difficulties growing out of
individual peculiarities. While some would be harmed by much talk
about sin, because they would thus either become acquainted with it,
or else be filled with fantastic terror, there are others whom only
the strongest language can move, and still others who themselves
preach against the sins of the world, and, at the same time, front the
world in proud security. Then there are those who brood over ethical
problems, and who, without having heard of Spinoza, argue that what the
Highest Judge has permitted to happen he has approved of, whence might
is the practical proof of right. There are contemners of mere morality,
who think that prayers will consecrate their evil actions. Isolated
traces of such perversions may indeed be met with even in children,
especially if their glib reproduction of the sermon, or worse yet,
their praying aloud, has happened to receive praise.
Hence it is necessary to observe the effect of religious instruction on
each individual. Another task for home training.
CHAPTER II
=History=
239. The most common blunder that younger teachers of history are apt
to make is that, without intending it, they become increasingly prolix
in presentation. It is not that interest deepens, but that the network
of events lures them, now one way, now another. This of itself evinces
preparation; but mental preparation alone does not suffice; preliminary
practice, too, is necessary.
Young teachers of history, like young teachers in other subjects, are
prone to error. What the prevailing error in a given study will be,
is likely to depend upon conventional methods of presenting it. In
Germany it is customary for the teacher himself to be the historian
through whose mind all historical knowledge passes on its way to
the children. But just as good writers of history are rare, so good
teachers of history are likely to be few, since in an important sense
they are at once teachers and oral historians. Where the text-book is
depended upon for the narrative, as in the United States, a different
difficulty presents itself to the teacher. What shall he do with the
text, all the pupils having read it? Perhaps the commonest method is
to call upon them one by one to reproduce it in class. But this is a
deadening process, since it compels nineteen pupils to sit passive
while the twentieth recites the words that the nineteen could repeat
equally well. If, therefore, the besetting fault of the teacher of
history in German is prolixity, that of the American teacher is
tediousness. The German method is that of primitive man, where the
legends of the tribe are handed down from father to son by word of
mouth; the American presentation of history is modern, where all the
resources of scholarship and the advantages of the printing press are
utilized. Each method has peculiar advantages, the former having the
possible charm of first-hand narrative, the latter that of accuracy
and comprehensiveness. The narrative method is greatly superior to
that of the text-book with children whose powers of reading are
not well developed; the text-book, together with its available
accessories, is greatly to be preferred with older pupils capable
of large amounts of reading. The following sections give a vivid
description of the narrative method at its best; the commentary will
attempt to show how the printed page may be made equally attractive,
and, at the same time, much more useful.
240. If, to begin with, a purely chronological, but accurate,
outline-view of history is to be imparted, the teacher must be able
to traverse mentally the whole historical field, going with equal
readiness back, forward, or across (synchronistically). The notable
names must form definite groups and series; and the teacher must
possess facility in making the most notable names stand out clearly
from the groups, and in condensing the most salient points of a long
series into a short series.
If this mastery of subject-matter is important for the narrator, it
is equally important for the teacher who depends upon print for the
narration. Observation of current history teaching betrays the fact
that the teacher rarely becomes master of his material to such an
extent that he can throw it into new forms. As it stands in the book,
he probably knows it; but to take liberties with the facts, to expand
parts, or throw masses into brief outline, to make new groupings, or
to change a long series into a short one, usually lies beyond his
ability. This lesson the American teacher must learn through a better
mastery of his materials.
241. Again, the teacher must make himself perfectly familiar with
general notions that relate to classes of society--constitutions,
institutions, religious customs, stages of culture--and that serve
to explain events. But not only this; he must study likewise the
conditions under which he can develop them and keep them present in
the minds of his pupils. This consideration alone shuts out most
generalizations from the first lessons in history. And, accordingly,
ancient history, whose moving causes are simpler than the more modern
political factors, maintains its place in presentations of historical
material to younger pupils.
American history is better than ancient history in respect to its
richness of picturesque variety. It is, moreover, easier for children
to comprehend, since our present conditions have emerged directly
from our pioneer state. Not only are constitutions, institutions,
and religious customs to be studied, but the economic conditions of
those early times are particularly worthy of study, since they are
both important and interesting. Methods of farming, of conducting
household affairs, such as cooking, making fires, producing
clothing, securing shelter, means of transportation on land and
water, methods of communication, and many other similar topics are of
interest to the young.
242. Furthermore, due attention must be given to the difficulty of
narrating well a complex event. The very first condition is continuity
of the thought-current, in order that the thread of the story may
remain unbroken, except where there are intentional rests. This, in
turn, presupposes fluency of speech, careful cultivation of which is
indispensable to a good presentation of historical events. But mere
fluency does not suffice. There must also be resting-places, because
otherwise alternate absorption and reflection cannot be secured; and
because, without such pauses, even the formation of the series fails,
since what has preceded arrests what follows. It is therefore not
immaterial where a historical lesson begins and ends, and where the
reviews are inserted.
While the narrator can utter words in succession only, the event has,
in his mind, a very different form, which it is his business to convey
to his hearers. Nor does the form of the event resemble a level plane;
on the contrary, a manifold interest lifts some things into prominence
and lets others sink. It is essential, accordingly, to distinguish how
far, in a given instance, the narration should follow in a straight
line the succession of events, and where, on the other hand, it should
deviate to include accessory circumstances. The very language used
must possess the power to induce side-glances and retrospective views,
even without leaving the main road. The narrator must have skill to
introduce descriptions here and to linger over pictures there, but must
be able also, while moving his hearers, to retain his own self-control
and to keep his bearings.
243. There remains one other requisite of prime importance, namely, the
utmost simplicity of expression. The condensed and abstract language of
more recent historians is hardly suited even to the highest class of a
secondary school; a sentimental or witty treatment, such as that found
in modern novelists, must be avoided entirely. The only safe models are
the ancient classics.
The most serious fault with the text-book method is the barrenness
arising from condensation. To teach history solely from a single
book, even if this be among the best, is to produce an atrophy of the
historical interest. It is on this account that successful teachers
introduce large amounts of collateral reading, not of similarly
condensed books, which would be like remedying the drouth with more
dry weather, but of sections from fuller works on the same subject.
In American history the pupil is directed to read selected portions
of standard works like those of Fiske, Parkman, McMaster, Turner,
Tyler, or earlier historians. In English history he is sent directly
to such men as Gardiner, Green, Freeman, Traill, Ransome, Cunningham
and McArthur, Harrison and Macaulay. The method of copious readings
has, in turn, its disadvantages, the most conspicuous of which is
diffusiveness. It is easy for the student to become so absorbed in
a mass of details that he lose the proper sense of proportion, or
overlook the relative importance of events, or fail to fix firmly
in mind the causal series that binds all together. In the case of
either of the methods described, it is the teacher who is responsible
for order and for clearness of detail. In the one case his narrative
must have the artistic unity of the finished historian; in the other
he must so manage a wealth of given material that the golden chain
of cause and effect shall be seen binding diversity into unity. The
ability to do the first is of a much rarer order than that of the
second, for the art of teaching is not so difficult as the art of
historical composition. The remedy for the specific difficulty which
modern text-book teaching of history encounters will be discussed
under paragraph 247.
The stories of Herodotus should serve the teacher as the basis for
practice. In fact, they should actually be memorized in an accurate but
fluent translation. The effect on children is surprising. At a later
stage use may be made of Arrian and Livy. The method of the ancients of
letting the principal characters utter their views and set forth their
motives with their own lips, the narrator abstaining from reflections
of his own, should be scrupulously imitated, and should be departed
from only in the case of manifestly artificial rhetorical devices.
244. The course of preparation outlined above (240–243) having gone
hand-in-hand with a thorough, pragmatic study of history, it is
further necessary, in the exercise of the art acquired, to learn to
expand or contract, according to circumstances and the specific aims of
each occasion. Concerning this point no generally applicable rules can
be given, on account of the great variety of possible cases; but the
following suggestions should be noted:--
In general, all helps whereby historical objects may be represented to
sense--portraits, pictures of buildings, of ruins, etc.--are desirable;
maps for the more ancient times must be regarded as particularly
indispensable. They should always be at hand, and their study
should not be neglected. Among these helps must be included charts,
substantially like that by Strass entitled “The Stream of Time,” which
places before the eye not only synchronistic events, but at the same
time shows also the alternate union and division of countries. The lack
of such aids causes the loss of much time and temper over mere memory
work.
Again, attention is due to the following four aspects of the teaching
of history:--
245. (1) In the first place, even the earliest lessons in geography
give rise to the question, whenever the description of a country is
finished, “How did things look in this country formerly?” For it is
a part of correct apprehension that cities and other works of man
should not be regarded as of equal age with mountains, rivers, and
oceans. Now, although the teacher cannot stop, during the time set
apart for geography dealing with the present, to show and explain maps
illustrative of the past, it will be useful, nevertheless, to add a
few remarks about the early history of the country under discussion.
The art of narration, however, is out of place here, inasmuch as the
question, although reaching back in time, is suggested by the country.
Mention of former activity, such as migrations and wars, is made simply
for the purpose of adding life to the conception of a stationary
surface. At the beginning, the notes on by-gone periods in connection
with the geography of Germany will accordingly be as brief as possible;
gradually, however, as France, England, Spain, Italy, are being studied
in succession, these historical notes become knit together, and history
is thus, so to speak, made to loom up in the distance. How far to go
in this direction can be determined more definitely by distinguishing
between the requirements of the first, and of the second course in
geography. In the first course the most general statements may suffice,
_e.g._, that not so very long ago Germany was split up more than now;
that there were older times, when cities and neighboring princes often
made war upon each other; that the barons used to live on more or less
inaccessible heights; but that, in the interest of better order and
stricter surveillance, Germany was divided into ten districts, etc.
The second course will admit of more historical facts than the first,
although still only very few pertaining to an older epoch. Only the
more recent events can be conveniently connected with geography, except
in the case of still extant historical monuments,--such, for instance,
as the ruins in Italy, the composite language of England, the peculiar
political organization of Switzerland with its many subdivisions,
visible on the map, and its diversities of language.
If, as is sometimes recommended, the plan is adopted of preparing
the way for the study of mediæval and modern history by a separate
introductory course in short biographies, such a plan, though at best
only fragmentary in its results, becomes at least more feasible where
historical notes of the kind just mentioned are incorporated with the
lessons in geography. But in this case it is all the more essential to
have a chronological chart upon the wall, to some dates of which the
teacher must take every opportunity to refer, in order that the pupils
may obtain at least some fixed points. Otherwise scattered biographies
are liable to occasion great confusion.
246. (2) The chief basis for the earlier stages of historical teaching
will always be Greek and Roman history. It will not be inappropriate
to commence with a few charming stories from Homeric mythology, since
there is a close connection between the history of a people and their
religion. Two wrong ways, however, are to be avoided: one, that of
giving a detailed theogony or of including objectionable myths, for
the sake of completeness, which would here be devoid of a rational
purpose; the other, that of having the mythological elements memorized.
Only true history should be memorized by children. Mythology is a study
for youths or men.
Persian history must be told approximately in the sequence and setting
given by Herodotus; to it the history of Assyria and of Egypt may
be joined in the form of episodes, Greece being kept well in the
foreground. The stories from the Old Testament, on the other hand, form
a chain of lessons by themselves. The history of Rome must at first
retain its mythical beginnings.
Whatever German opinion may be regarding the beginnings of historical
instruction for their own children, American history possesses
strong claims for precedence when we come to children of the United
States. If we regard the chief intellectual purpose of history for
the student to be the understanding of the present status through
a knowledge of the historical progress that has led to it, then
the primitive and pioneer history of this country is infinitely
more valuable than any other to an American child, for in it lie
enfolded the forces that have developed our people; whereas Greece
and Rome are as distant in influence as they are in time. It is the
mythology of Greece and Rome that most attracts children; but this
belongs to literature rather than to history. Accounts of battles
are about the same the world over, but it takes more maturity of
mind to understand the Greek rage for individuality after the rise
of philosophy, than it does to understand a corresponding feeling
among the American pioneers, to say nothing of the desirability of
teaching the latter as a phase of our own development. For reasons
of simplicity, therefore, as well as for psychological nearness and
national importance, American history must take precedence over that
of Greece and Rome for American children.
247. Suppose, now, that detailed stories after the models furnished by
the ancients have won the attention of the pupils; the mere pleasure
of listening to stories can nevertheless not be allowed to determine
continuously the impression to be produced. Condensed surveys must
follow, and a few of the main facts be memorized in chronological order.
The following suggestions will be in place here. The chief events are
to attach themselves in the memory to the memorized dates in such a
way that no confusion can arise. Now, a single date may suffice for
the group of connected incidents constituting one main event; if it
seems necessary to add another, or a third, well and good, but to
keep on multiplying dates defeats the very end aimed at. The more
dates the weaker their effect, on account of the growing difficulty
of remembering them all. In the history of one country dates should
rather remain apart as far as possible, in order that the intervening
numbers may be all the more available for purposes of synchronistic
tabulation, by which the histories of different countries are to be
brought together and connected. The same sparing use should be made of
the facts of ancient geography, but those that are introduced must be
learned accurately.
Granted that the primitive method of historical narration by the
teacher is the most effective in its appeal to the beginner, it
must be maintained that the combined knowledge and literary skill
of modern historians infinitely surpass the powers of the ordinary
teacher. The modern problem is, not how to compose history, but how
to utilize that which has been composed. It is, in short, to guard
against the confusion that comes from diffuseness. Wide historical
reading may be as bad for the student as wide reading of novels. The
mind may surrender itself to the passing panorama as completely in
the one field as in the other, until the impressions made are like
those of a ship upon a sea. The remedy is the thorough organization
in the mind of the student of the knowledge gained in diverse fields.
This is secured by teacher or author, or both. Some authors secure
clearness of outline by topics, references, and research questions.
Larned’s “History of England” concludes every chapter in this way.
As an illustration we may quote from Chapter XVI, which narrates the
quarrel between King Charles and his people:--
202. _Charles I._
Topic.
1. Charles’s character and views.
References.--Bright, II, 608, 609; Green, 495; Montague, 118;
Ransome, 138, 139.
203. _Bad Faith in the Beginning of the Reign._
Topic.
1. Charles’s marriage and broken pledges.
Reference.--Bright, II, 608, 614.
204. _The First Parliament of King Charles._
Topics.
1. Charles’s designs and his treatment of Parliament.
2. Attitude of Commons and their dissolution.
3. The King’s levies.
Reference.--Gardiner, II, 502, 503.
Research Questions.--(1) What were the legal and illegal sources
of the King’s revenues? (Ransome, 151, 155). (2) What might be
said to constitute the private property of the crown? (3) What
contributed to make Charles’s court expensive? (Traill, IV, 76).
(4) How would this need for money make for parliamentary
greatness?[25]
In a similar way the remaining topics of this section of English
history are recorded, guiding the pupil in his outlines and his
readings. With suitable care on the part of the teacher to see that
the student fixes the outline firmly in mind, there is no danger of
becoming lost in a wilderness of words. At the same time the pupil’s
mind is enriched from many noble sources, instead of being limited by
the presumably meagre resources of a single teacher. By this method
the child may enjoy the benefits of modern erudition, without at the
same time being harmed by dissipation of mental energy.
Other authors reach the same ends by different means. Fiske’s
“History of the United States,” for example, concludes each chapter
with a topical outline in which cause and effect are emphasized.
At the close of Chapter X, on the “Causes and Beginning of the
Revolution,” we find the following:--
=Topics and Questions=
76. _Causes of Ill Feeling between England and her Colonies._
1. What was the European idea of a colony, and of its object?
2. What erroneous notions about trade existed?
3. What was the main object of the laws regulating trade, etc.?
77. _The Need of a Federal Union._
1. One difficulty in carrying on the French wars.
2. An account of Franklin.
3. Franklin’s plan of union, etc.
78. _The Stamp Act Passed and Repealed._
1. The kind of government needed by the colonies.
2. How Parliament sought to establish such a government.
3. The nature of a stamp act, etc.
79. _Taxation in England._
1. How Pitt’s friendship for America offended George III.
2. The representation of the English people in Parliament.
3. How the representation of the people is kept fair in the
United States.
4. How it became unfair in England.
5. Corrupt practices favored by this unfairness.
6. The party of Old Whigs.
7. The Tories, or the party of George III.
8. The party of New Whigs and its aims.
9. Why George III was so bitter against Pitt.
10. The attitude of the King toward taxation in America.
11. The people of England not our enemies, etc.
At the close of these topics there follows a list of fifteen
“Suggestive Questions and Directions,” with page references to
Fiske’s “The American Revolution,” Vol. I, the whole being concluded
by eighteen topics for collateral reading from “The American
Revolution,” and from Cooke’s “Virginia.”[26]
It is a significant fact that modern text-books for children are
being prepared by masters in the various departments of knowledge,
not a little thought being bestowed upon the highest utilization
of all modern instruments for arousing the intelligent interest of
the pupils. This being the case, it is idle to rely upon primitive
methods, however potent they may have been in the past, with pupils
who have learned to read fluently.
[25] Larned, “History of England,” Houghton, Mifflin & Co., p. 396.
[26] Fiske, John, “A History of the United States for Schools,”
Houghton, Mifflin & Co., Boston, pp. 211–215.
248. The general surveys that follow the detailed narratives have this
advantage for the pupil: he infers of his own accord, that in periods
of which not much is told, a great deal took place, nevertheless,
which the history or the teacher passes over in silence. In this way
the false impressions are prevented that would be produced by purely
compendious instruction, which indeed, at a later stage, becomes in a
measure unavoidable.
249. (3) Mediæval history derives no assistance from the study of the
ancient languages, nor is it closely related to present conditions;
there is difficulty in imparting to the presentation of it more
than the clearness obtainable through geography and chronology. But
more than this is requisite: the burden of mere memory work without
interest would become too great. The fundamental factors, Islamism,
Papacy, the Holy Roman Empire, Feudalism, must be explained and given
due prominence. Most of the facts down to Charlemagne may be made to
contribute additional touches to the panorama of the Great Migration.
With Charlemagne the chain of German history begins, and it will
usually be considered advisable to extend this chain to the end of
the Middle Ages, in order to have something to which synchronous
events may be linked later on. Yet some doubt arises as to the value
of such a plan. To be sure, the reigns of the Ottos, the Henrys, the
Hohenstaufen, together with intervening occurrences, form a tolerably
well-connected whole; but as early as the interregnum there is a
sad break, and although the historical narrative recovers, as it
were, with the stories of Rudolph Albrecht and Ludwig the Bavarian,
there is nothing in the names of succeeding leaders, from Carl IV
to Frederick III, that would make them proper starting-points and
connecting centres for the synchronism of the whole period in question.
It might be better, therefore, to stop with the excommunication of
Ludwig the Bavarian, with the assembly of the electors at Rhense,
and with the account of how the popes came to reside in Avignon.
Then--going back to Charlemagne--France, Italy, even England, may
be taken up, and greater completeness given to the history of the
crusades. Farther on, special attention might be called, in a
synchronistic way, to Burgundy and Switzerland, and to the changing
fortunes of the wars between England and France. French history may
then leave off with the reign of Charles VIII, and English history
with that of Henry VII, while German history, from Maximilian on,
is placed again in the foreground. The Hussite wars will be treated
as forerunners of the Reformation. Other events must be skilfully
inserted. Many modifications of grouping will have to be reserved for
subsequent repetitions.
250. (4) In presenting modern history, the teacher will do well to
avail himself of the fact that modern history does not cover so long
reaches of time as mediæval history does, and that it falls into
three sharply defined periods, the first of which ends with the
treaty of Westphalia, the second extends from this date to the French
Revolution, and the third, to the present. These periods should be
carefully distinguished, the leading events of each should be narrated
synchronistically, and a recital of the most essential historical facts
about each country should follow. Only after each has been handled
in this way, and the subject-matter presented has been thoroughly
impressed upon the memory by reviews, will it be well to pass on to a
somewhat fuller ethnographical account reaching back into the mediæval
history of each country and extending forward to our own times. No
harm is done by going over the same ground again for the purpose of
amplifying that which before appeared in outline only.
The chief point is, that no course of instruction which claims at all
to give completeness of culture can be regarded as concluded before it
has introduced the pupil to the pragmatic study of history, and has
taught him to look for causes and effects. This applies preëminently to
modern history, on account of its direct connection with the present;
but mediæval and ancient history, too, have to be worked over once more
from this point of view. History should be the teacher of mankind; if
it does not become so, the blame rests largely with those who teach
history in schools.
251. A well-compiled and well-proportioned brief history of inventions,
arts, and sciences should conclude the teaching of history, not only in
gymnasia, but also and especially in higher burgher schools, because
their courses of study are not supplemented by the university.
Moreover, the whole course in history is properly accompanied by
illustrative poetical selections, which, although perhaps not produced
during the different epochs, yet stand in some relation to them; and
which in some measure, even if only by illustrating ages very far
apart, exhibit the vast differences in the freest activities of the
human mind.
=Note.=--National history is not the same for each land, nor
everywhere of equal interest, and, owing to its connection with
larger events, often unintelligible to young minds when torn out
of its place and presented by itself. If its early introduction is
desired in order to kindle the heart, special pains must be taken
to select that which is intelligible and which appeals to boyhood.
CHAPTER III
=Mathematics and Nature Study=
252. Aptitude for mathematics is not rarer than aptitude for other
studies. That the contrary seems true, is owing to a belated and
slighted beginning. But that mathematicians are seldom inclined to
give as much time to children as they ought is only natural. The
elementary lessons in combination and geometry are neglected in favor
of arithmetic, and demonstration is attempted where no mathematical
imagination has been awakened.
The first essential is attention to magnitudes, and their changes,
where they occur. Hence, counting, measuring, weighing, where possible;
where impossible, at least the estimating of magnitudes to determine,
however vaguely at first, the more and the less, the larger and the
smaller, the nearer and the farther.
Special consideration should be given, on the one hand, to the number
of permutations, variations, and combinations; and, on the other hand,
to the quadratic and cubic relations, where similar planes and bodies
are determined by analogous lines.
=Note.=--This is not the place for saying much that might be said
concerning that which renders early instruction in mathematics
unnecessarily difficult. But it may be remarked in brief that
some of these difficulties arise from the terminology, some
from the teacher’s accustomed point of view, and some from the
multiplication of varying requirements.
(1) The phraseology used forms an obstacle, even to the easiest
steps in fractions. The fraction ⅔, for example, is read
two-thirds, and, accordingly, ⅔ × ⅘, two-thirds times four-fifths,
instead of, multiplication by two and by four, and division by
three and by five. The fact is overlooked that the third part of
a whole includes the concept of this whole, which cannot be a
multiplier, but only a multiplicand. This difficulty the pupils
stumble over. The same applies to the mysterious word _square
root_, employed instead of the expression: one of the two equal
factors of a product. Matters grow even worse later on when they
hear of roots of equations.
(2) Still more might be said in criticism of the erroneous
view according to which numbers are recorded as sums of units.
This is true as little as that sums are products; two does not
mean two things, but doubling, no matter whether that which is
doubled is one or many. The concept of a dozen chairs is not
made up of 12 percepts of single chairs; it comprises only two
mental products,--the general concept chair and the undivided
multiplication by 12. The concept one hundred men likewise contains
only two concepts,--the general concept man and the undivided
number 100. So, also, in such expression as six foot, seven pound,
in which language assists correct apprehension by the use of the
singular. Number concepts remain imperfect so long as they are
identified with series of numbers and recourse is had to successive
counting.
(3) In arithmetical problems the difficulty attaching to the
apprehension of the things dealt with is confounded with that of
the solution itself. Principal and interest and time, velocity and
distance and time, etc., are matters which must be familiar to
the pupils, and hence must have been previously explained, long
before use can be made of them for practice. The pupil to whom
arithmetical concepts still give trouble should be given concrete
examples so familiar to him that out of them he can create over
again the mathematical notion and not be compelled to apply it to
them.
253. The measuring of lines, angles, and arcs (for which many
children’s games, constructive in tendency, may present the first
occasion) leads over to observation exercises dealing with both planes
and spheres. Skill in this direction having been attained, frequent
application must be made of it, or else, like every other acquirement,
it will be lost again. Every plan of a building, every map every
astronomical chart, may afford opportunities for practice.
These observation exercises are to be organized in such a manner that
upon the completion of mensuration the way is fully prepared for
trigonometry, provided that besides the work in plain geometry, algebra
has been carried as far as equations of the second degree.
Extended discussions as to the place and value of the ratio
idea in elementary arithmetic are found in “The Psychology of
Number,” by McLellan & Dewey,[27] and in “The New Arithmetic,”
by W. W. Speer.[28] The former work advocates early practice in
measuring with changeable units, claiming that the child should
early acquire the idea of number as the expression of the relation
that a measured somewhat bears to a chosen measurer, and making
counting a special case of measuring. Mr. Speer makes the ratio idea
still more prominent by furnishing the school with numerous sets of
blocks of various sizes and shapes with which to drill the pupils
into instantaneous recognition of number as the ratio between two
quantities. For an extended examination of these principles the
reader may well consult Dr. David Eugene Smith’s able treatise on the
teaching of elementary mathematics.[29]
=Note.=--It is now nearly forty years since the author wrote a
little book on the plan of Pestalozzi’s A, B, C, of observation,
and he has often had it used by teachers since. Numerous
suggestions have been given by others under the title, “Study of
Forms.” The main thing is training the eye in gauging distances and
angles, and combining such exercises with very simple computations.
The aim is not merely to secure keenness of observation for objects
of sense, but, preëminently, to awaken geometrical imagination and
to connect arithmetical thinking with it. Indeed, exercises of
this sort constitute the necessary, although commonly neglected,
preparation for mathematics. The helps made use of must be concrete
objects. Various things have been tried and cast aside again;
most convenient for the first steps are triangles made from thin
hard-wood boards. Of these only seventeen pairs are needed, all
of them right-angled triangles with one side equal. To find these
triangles, draw a circle with a radius of four inches, and trace
the tangents and secants at 5°, 10°, 15°, 20°, etc., to 85°.
The numerous combinations that can be made will easily suggest
themselves. The tangents and secants must be actually measured
by the pupils; from 45° on, the corresponding figures, at first
not carried out beyond tenths, should be noted, and, after some
repetition, learned by heart. On this basis very easy arithmetical
examples may be devised for the immediate purpose of gaining the
lasting attention of the pupils to matters so simple. Observations
relating to the sphere require a more complicated apparatus,
namely, three movable great circles of a globe. It would be well
to have such means at hand in teaching spherical trigonometry.
Needless to say, of course, observation exercises do not take the
place of geometry, still less of trigonometry, but prepare the
ground for these sciences. When the pupil reaches plain geometry,
the wooden triangles are put aside, and observation is subordinated
to geometrical construction. Meanwhile arithmetic is passing beyond
exercises that deal merely with proportions, to powers, roots, and
logarithms. In fact, without the concept of the square root, not
even the Pythagorean Theorem can be fully grasped.
“Herbart’s A, B, C, of Sense Perception,” together with a number of
minor educational works, has been translated into English.[30] It
abounds in shrewd observations and ingenious devices, yet as a whole
it represents one of those side excursions, which, though delightful
to genius, is not especially useful to the world. To drill children
into the habit of resolving a landscape into a series of triangles,
may indeed be possible, but like any other schematization of the
universe, is too artificial to be desirable. Nevertheless, a limited
use of the devices mentioned in this section might tend to quicken an
otherwise torpid mind.
[27] McLellan & Dewey, “The Psychology of Number,” International
Education Series, D. Appleton & Co., New York, 1895.
[28] Speer, W. W., “The New Arithmetic,” Ginn & Co., Boston, 1896.
[29] Smith, David Eugene, “The Teaching of Elementary Mathematics,”
Ch. V, The Macmillan Co., New York, 1900.
[30] Eckoff, William J., “Herbart’s A, B, C, of Sense Perception,”
International Education Series, D. Appleton & Co., New York, 1896.
254. But now a subject comes up that, on account of the difficulties it
causes, calls for special consideration, namely, that of logarithms.
It is easy enough to explain their use, and to render the underlying
concept intelligible as far as necessary in practice--arithmetical
corresponding to geometrical series, the natural numbers being
conceived of as a geometrical series. But scientifically considered,
logarithms involve fractional and negative exponents, as also the
application of the Binomial Theorem. The latter, to be sure, is merely
an easy combinatory formula so far as integral positive exponents are
concerned, but, limited to these, is here of comparatively little use.
Now, since trigonometry in its main theorems is independent of
logarithms, but is little applied without their aid, the question
arises whether beginners should necessarily be given a complete and
vigorously scientific course in logarithms, the highly beneficial
instruction in trigonometry being postponed until after the successful
completion of such a course, or whether the practical use of logarithms
is to be permitted before accurate insight into underlying principles
has been gained.
=Note.=--The difficulty encountered in this subject--undoubtedly
one of those difficulties most keenly felt in teaching
mathematics--is after all only an illustration of the injurious
consequences of former sins of omission. If the geometrical
imagination were not neglected, there would be ample opportunity,
not only for impressing far more deeply the concept of proportion,
demanded even by elementary arithmetic, but also for developing
early the idea of function. The object lessons mentioned above
have already illustrated the dependence of tangents and secants
on angles. When these relations of dependence have become as
familiar as may be expected after a half year’s instruction, sines
and cosines also are taken up. But it is not sufficient to leave
the matter here. Somewhat later, about the time when mensuration
is introduced, the squares and cubes of natural numbers must be
emphasized, and very soon committed to memory. Next it should be
pointed out how by finding the differences of squares and cubes
respectively, and then adding these differences, the original
numbers may be obtained again. A similar treatment should be
accorded to figurate numbers.
Small wooden disks, like checker-pawns, commend themselves for the
purpose. By means of them various figures are found. The pupils
are asked to indicate how many disks they need to construct one
or the other kind of figures. A further step will be to show the
increase of squares and cubes corresponding to the increase of the
root, and to make this information serve as the preparation for
the elementary parts of differential calculus. Now the time has
come for passing on to the consideration of consecutive values of
the roots, which are found to differ by quantities of continuously
decreasing smallness as one progresses continuously through the
number system. And so, after the logarithms of 1, 10, 100, 1000,
etc., also of 1/10, 1/100, etc., have been gone over many times,
forward and backward, the conception is finally reached of the
interpolation of logarithms.
255. In schools where practical aims predominate, logarithms should
be explained by a comparison of the arithmetical with the geometrical
series, and the practical application will immediately follow. But even
where recourse is had to Taylor’s Theorem and the Binomial Theorem,
the gain to the beginner will not usually be very much greater. Not
as though these theorems, together with the elements of differential
calculus, could not be made clear; the real trouble lies in the fact
that much of what is comprehended is not likely to be retained in the
memory. The beginner, when he comes to the application, still has the
recollection of the proof and of his having understood it. Indeed, with
some assistance he would be able, perhaps, to again retrace step by
step the course of the demonstration. But he lacks perspective; and in
his application of logarithms it is of no consequence to him by what
method they have been calculated.
What has been said here of logarithms may be applied more generally.
The value of rigid demonstrations is fully seen only when one has made
himself at home in the field of concepts to which they belong.
It is customary in American schools to take up elementary algebra and
elementary geometry upon the completion of arithmetic, both algebra
and geometry being anticipated to some extent in the later stages of
arithmetic. The following paragraphs from the pen of David Eugene
Smith[31] indicate some of the advance in algebra since Herbart’s
time:--
“The great revival of learning known as the Renaissance, in the
sixteenth century, saw algebra take a fresh start after several
centuries of complete stagnation. Tartaglia solved the cubic
equation, and a little later Ferrari solved the biquadratic. By the
close of the sixteenth century Vieta had put the keystone in the
arch of elementary algebra, the only material improvements for some
time to come being in the way of symbolism. For the next two hundred
years the struggle of algebraists was for a solution of the quintic
equation, or, more generally, for a general solution of an equation
of any degree.
“The opening of the nineteenth century saw a few great additions to
the theory of algebra. The first was the positive proof that the
general equation of the fifth degree is insoluble by elementary
algebra, a proof due to Abel. The second was the mastery of the
number systems of algebra,--the complete understanding of the
negative, the imaginary, the incommensurable, the transcendent.
Other additions were in the line of the convergency of series, the
approximation of the real roots of numerical equations, the study of
determinants--all finding their way into the elements, together with
the theories of forms and groups, which must soon begin to influence
the earlier chapters of the subject.
“This hasty glance at the development of the subject is sufficient
to show how it has been revolutionized in modern times. To-day it
is progressing as never before. The higher culture is beginning to
affect the lower; determinants have found place in the beginner’s
course; graphic methods, objected to as innovations by some who
are ignorant of their prominence in the childhood of science, are
reasserting their rights; the ‘imaginary’ has become very real;
the inheritances of the algebra-teachers’ guild are being examined
with critical eyes, and many an old problem and rule must soon go
by the board. It is valuable to a teacher to see what changes have
been wrought so that he may join in the movement to weed out the
bad, to cling to the good, and to reach up into the realm of modern
mathematics to see if, perchance, he cannot find that which is good
and usable and light-shedding for the elementary work.”
The true order of elementary mathematics, according to Dr. Smith, is
substantially as follows:--
1. Elementary operations of arithmetic.
2. Simple mensuration, correlation with drawing, the models in
hand:--
Inductive geometry--the primitive form of the science.
3. Arithmetic of business and of science, using the simple equation
with one unknown quantity wherever it throws light upon the
subject.
4. Simple theory of numbers, the roots, series, logarithms.
5. Elementary algebra, including quadratic and radical equations.
6. Demonstrative plane geometry begun before the algebra is
completed and correlated with it.
7. Plane trigonometry and its elementary applications.
8. Solid geometry. Trigonometry. Advanced algebra, with the
elements of differentiation and integration.
“The student should then take a rapid review of his elementary
mathematics, including a course in elementary analytic geometry and
the calculus. He would then be prepared to enter upon the study of
higher mathematics.”
[31] Compare Smith, David Eugene, “History of Modern Mathematics,” in
Merriman & Woodworth’s “Higher Mathematics,” Wiley, New York, 1896.
256. Demonstrations taking a roundabout way through remote auxiliary
concepts are a grave evil in instruction, be they ever so elegant.
Such modes of presentation are rather to be selected as start from
simple elementary notions. For with these conviction does not depend
on the unfortunate condition requiring a comprehensive view of a
long series of preliminary propositions. Thus Taylor’s Theorem can
be deduced from an interpolation formula, and this, in turn, from
the consideration of differences, for which nothing is needed beyond
addition, subtraction, and knowledge of the permutation of numbers.
The following account of imaginary and complex numbers by
Dr. David Eugene Smith is so lucid that it is given at length:--
“The illustrations of the negative number are so numerous, so
simple, and so generally known from the common text-books that it is
unnecessary to dwell upon them.[32] Debt and credit, the scale on
the thermometer, longitude, latitude, the upward pull of a balloon
compared with the force of gravity, and the graphic illustration of
these upon horizontal and vertical lines--all these are familiar.
“But the imaginary and complex numbers have been left enshrouded in
mystery in most text-books. The books say, _inter lineas_, ‘Here
is √−1; it means nothing; you can’t imagine it; the writer knows
nothing about it; let us have done with it, and go on.’ Such is the
way in which the negative was treated in the early days of printed
algebras, but now such treatment would be condemned as inexcusable.
But there is really no more reason to-day for treating the imaginary
so unintelligently than for presenting the negative as was the
custom four hundred years ago. The graphic treatment of the complex
number is not to-day so difficult for the student about to take
up quadratics as is the presentation of the negative to one just
beginning algebra.
“Briefly, the following outline will suffice to illustrate the
procedure for the complex number:--
5 4 3 2 1 | 1 2 3 4 5
|___|___|___|___|___|___|___|___|___|___|
|
− 0 +
“1. Negative numbers may be represented in a direction opposite
to that of positive numbers, starting from an arbitrary point
called zero. Hence, when we leave the domain of positive numbers,
_direction_ enters. But there are infinitely many directions in a
plane besides those of the positive and negative numbers, and hence
there may be other numbers than these.
“2. When we add positive and negative numbers we find some results
which seem strange to a beginner. For example, if we add +4 and −3 we
say the sum is 1, although the _length_ 1 is less than the length 4
or the length −3; yet this does not trouble us because we have
considered something besides length, namely, direction; it is true,
however, that the sum of 4 and −3 is less than the absolute value
of either. This is seen to be so reasonable, however, from numerous
illustrations (as the combined weight of a balloon pulling up 3 lbs.,
tied to a 4-lb. weight), that we come not to notice the strangeness
of it; graphically, we think of the sum as obtained by starting from
0, going 4 in a positive direction, then 3 in a negative direction,
the _sum_ being _the distance from 0 to the stopping-place_.
[Illustration: Graph of 1 multiplied by √−1 twice]
“3. If we multiply 1 by −1, or by √−1 · √−1, or by √−1 twice, we
swing it counter-clockwise through 180°, and obtain −1; hence, if we
multiply it by √−1 once, we should swing it through 90°. Hence we may
graphically represent √−1 as the unit on the perpendicular axis YY′,
and this gives illustration to
√−1, 2√−1, 3√−1, ··· −√−1, −2√−1, −3√−1,
or, more briefly, ±i, ±2i, ±3i, ··· where i stands for √−1. We
therefore see that i is a symbol of quality (graphically of
direction), just as is + or −, and that −3 · 5i, i√5, etc., are just
as real as −3 · 5, √5, etc. It is impossible to look out of a window
−3 · 5 times as it is to look out −3 · 5i times; strictly, one number
is as ‘imaginary’ as the other, although the term has come by custom
to apply to one and not to the other.
“4. The complex number 3 + 2i is now readily understood. Just as
3 + (−2) is graphically represented by starting from an arbitrary
zero, passing 3 units in a positive direction (say to the right),
then 2 units in the opposite direction, calling the sum the
distance from 0 to the stopping-point, so 3 + 2i may be represented
graphically. Starting from 0, pass in the positive direction (to
the right in the figure) 3 units, then in the i direction 2 units,
calling the sum the distance from 0 to the stopping-place.
[Illustration: Graphical representation of 3 + 2i as the hypotenuse
of a right-angled triangle with sides of 3 and 2i units]
“Of course the question will arise as to the hypotenuse being the
sum of the two sides of the right-angled triangle. But the case is
parallel to that mentioned in paragraph 2; it is not the sum of
the _absolute values_, any more than is 1 the sum of the absolute
values of 4 and −3; it is the sum when we define addition for numbers
involving direction as well as length.
“A simple illustration from the parallelogram of forces is often used
to advantage.
[Illustration: Parallelogram of two forces +3 and +2i with
resultant OP]
“Suppose a force pulling 3 lbs. to the right (+3 lbs.) and another
pulling 2 lbs. upwards (+2i lbs.); required the resultant of the two.
It is evident that this is OP, _i.e._, OP = 3 + 2i.
“This elementary introduction to the subject of complex numbers shows
that the ‘imaginary’ element is easily removed, and that students
about to begin quadratics are able to get at least an intimation of
the subject. This is not the place for any adequate treatment of
these numbers: such treatment is easily accessible. It is hoped that
enough has been presented to render it impossible for any reader
to be content with the absolutely meaningless and unjustifiable
treatment found in many text-books.”[33]
[32] See Beman & Smith’s “Elements of Algebra,” p. 17.
[33] For an elementary presentation of the subject, see Beman and
Smith’s “Elements of Algebra,” Boston, 1900. For a history of the
subject, see Beman and Smith’s translation of Fink’s “History of
Mathematics,” Chicago, 1900, or Professor Beman’s Vice-Presidential
Address before the American Association for the Advancement of Science,
1898, or the author’s “History of Modern Mathematics,” already
mentioned.
257. The pedagogical value of mathematical instruction, as a whole,
depends chiefly on the extent to which it enters into and acts on
the pupil’s whole field of thought and knowledge. From this truth
it follows, to begin with, that mere presentation does not suffice;
the aim must be rather to enlist the self-activity of the pupil.
Mathematical exercises are essential. Pupils must realize how much
they can do by means of mathematics. From time to time written work in
mathematics should be assigned; only the tasks set must be sufficiently
easy. More should not be demanded and insisted on than pupils can
comfortably accomplish. Some are attracted early by pure mathematics,
especially where geometry and arithmetic are properly combined. But a
surer road to good results is applied mathematics, provided only the
application is made to an object in which interest has already been
aroused in other ways.
But the pupils ought not to be detained too long over a narrow round of
mathematical problems; there must also be progress in the presentation
of the theory. Were the only requisite to stimulate self-activity,
the elementary principles might very easily suffice for countless
examples affording the pupil the pleasure of increasing facility, and
even the delight arising from inventions of his own, without giving
him any conception of the greatness of the science. Many problems may
be compared to witty conceits, which may be welcome enough in the
right place, but which should not encroach on the time for work. There
ought to be no lingering over things that with advancing study solve
themselves, merely for the sake of performing feats of ingenuity.
Incomparably more important than mere practice examples is familiarity
with the facts of nature, and such familiarity renders all the better
service to mathematics if combined with technical knowledge.
258. Even young children may very well busy themselves with picture
books illustrating zoölogy, and later with analyses of plants which
they have gathered. If early accustomed to this, they will, with some
guidance, readily go on by themselves. At a later time they are taught
to observe the external characteristics of minerals. The continuation
of the study of zoölogy is beset with some difficulties on account of
the element of sex.
Though industriously debated, there is no field of education more
undecided both as to matter and method than nature work in the
grades. Some scientists would teach large amounts of well-classified
knowledge; others are content when they have secured a hospitable
frame of mind toward nature. If a love for flowers and birds can be
cultivated in children, the latter class are satisfied that the best
result has been attained. Thus a discussion arises as to which is the
more valuable, _attitude_ or _knowledge_.
It is feared by some that any attempt to teach real science, even
of an elementary kind, will result in a paralysis of permanent
scientific interest. To this it is replied that a sentimental regard
for æsthetic aspects of nature insures little or no true scientific
interest.
Both sides are, in large measure, wrong; for, though apparently
antagonistic in their aims, they make merely a different application
of a common principle, which, if not wholly erroneous, is at least
inadequate. Both parties assume that the end to be attained in nature
study is something only remotely related to the pupil’s practical
life. One would present nature for its own sake as scientific
knowledge; the other would offer it for its own sake as a source of
æsthetic or other feeling. The scientist often assumes that to a
pupil a scientific fact or law is its own excuse for being. He thinks
there must be a natural, spontaneous response to such a fact or law
in the breast of every properly constituted child, so that, to imbue
the mind with the scientific spirit, it is only necessary to expose
it to scientific fact.
Perhaps, unfortunately for the normal child, this view is somewhat
encouraged by the biographies of scientific geniuses. On the other
hand, those who hold the poetic view of nature assume that there must
be a native response to natural beauties in every child; so that
the true method is to expose him to nature’s beauty, when rapture is
sure to follow. Unfortunately again for the pupil, this view is also
encouraged by the influence of the nature poets. The result is that
natural science is presented as an end in itself--in the one case as
scientific knowledge, in the other as the lovable in nature.
While it may be admitted that a few children will respond now to
the one stimulus, now to the other, the great mass are not thrilled
with rapture at nature’s beauty, nor are they fettered by scientific
interest in her laws. To become an object of growing interest to
children, nature must have a better basis than natural childish
delight in the novel, or reverence for scientific law. The first of
these is evanescent, the second feeble.
We may agree with the scientist as with the poet, that both science
and poetic appreciation are desirable ends, but they cannot be
imparted to the childish mind by didactic fiat.
If there is one service greater than another that Herbart has
rendered to education, it is in bringing clearly to our consciousness
the supreme importance of the principle of apperception, or mental
assimilation, as a working basis for educative processes. So long
as a fact or a principle or system of knowledge stands as an end
in itself, just so long is it a thing apart from the real mental
life of the child. Even a formally correct method of presentation,
should it even appeal at once to all ‘six’ classes of interest, will
fail to create more than a factitious mental enthusiasm. It is like
conversation that is ‘made’ interesting; it may suffice to lighten a
tedious hour, but it awakens no vital response. When, however, the
natural love of novelty or inborn response to the true is reinforced
by a sense of warm personal relationship, when the facts of forest,
or plain, or mine, or animal life flood the mind with unexpected and
significant revelations concerning either the present or the past in
close personal touch with the learner, then instruction rests upon
an apperceptive basis. Abstractions that before were pale, beauties
that were cold, now receive color and warmth because they get a new
subjective valuation that before was impossible.
A sedate sheep nibbling grass or resting in the shade, a skipping
lamb gambolling on the green, are suitable objects of nature study.
Their pelts, their hoofs, their horns, their wool, are worthy of
note as scientific facts. A diluted interest may even be added by
recitation of the nursery rhymes about “Little Bo-Peep” and “Mary had
a Little Lamb.” But these are devices for the feeble-minded.
If the teacher can reveal to the pupil the function of wool in making
garments for the race, and can lead him to repeat the processes
by which, from time immemorial, the wool has been spun into yarn
and woven into cloth; if, at the same time, the influence of this
industry upon the home life, both of men and women, can be shown, the
study of the sheep becomes worthy the attention even of a boy who
can play foot-ball or of a girl who can cook. The literature of the
sheep is no longer infantile or fatuous. We have a gamut reaching
from Penelope to Priscilla. In the words of Professor Dewey: “The
child who is interested in the way in which men lived, the tools
they had to do with, the transformation of life that arose from the
power and leisure thus gained, is eager to repeat like processes
in his own action; to make utensils, to reproduce processes, to
rehandle materials. Since he understands their problems and their
successes only by seeing what obstacles and what resources they had
from nature, the child is interested in field and forest, ocean and
mountain, plant and animal.... The interest in history gives a more
human coloring, a wider significance, to his own study of nature.”[34]
The conclusion arising from this argument is that nature study
as an end in itself, or a thing apart from the real or imagined
experiences of the pupil, is but a faint reflection of what it may
become under a more rational treatment. In order of time, nature
study in the earliest grades may indeed rest upon the mere delight
of the childish mind in the new, the strange, the beautiful, and
especially in the motion of live creatures, and may be reinforced
by childish literature. When boyhood and girlhood begin, however,
then the industrial motive, first in the home environment, then of
primitive times, becomes the chief reliance for an abiding interest.
In the reproduction of primitive processes, there is of necessity
a historical element. When nature has attained a firm apperceptive
basis through imitation of primitive industrial processes, and has
obtained a historical background, then it may properly be further
reinforced by literary reference. The poetic value of nature will now
appeal to the mind with a potency that springs from inner life and
experience; scientific law will now have some chance of appealing to
the mind with something of the same reverence that Kant besought for
the moral law. The true order of appeal in nature study is therefore
as follows: For infancy, natural curiosity and delight in the
movements of living creatures; for the age of boyhood and girlhood,
imitation, real or imaginary, of processes depending upon natural
objects and forces, together with historical and literary reference;
secondarily, nature work may also appeal to youthful interest in
natural law or beauty.
[34] Dewey, John, “The Aim of History in Elementary Education,”
_Elementary School Record_, November, 1900, University of Chicago
Press.
259. With the foregoing should be conjoined much attention to external
nature, to the changes corresponding to the seasons, and to means of
intercommunication.
Under this head belongs, on the one hand, observation of the heavenly
bodies,--where sun and moon rise, how the latter waxes and wanes, where
the north star is found, and what arcs are described by the brighter
stars and the most conspicuous constellations.
Here belongs, on the other hand, technological knowledge, acquired
partly through direct observation, partly through lessons in
descriptive physical science. Technology ought not to be considered
merely from the side of the so-called material interests. It furnishes
very important connecting links between the apprehension of the facts
of nature and human purposes. Every growing boy and youth should learn
to handle the ordinary tools of the carpenter as well as rule and
compasses. Mechanical skill would often prove far more useful than
gymnastic exercises. The former benefits the mind, the latter benefit
the body. With burgher schools should go manual training-schools,
which does not mean that the latter must necessarily be trade schools.
Finally, every human being ought to learn how to use his hands. The
hand has a place of honor beside language in elevating mankind above
the brute.
The foregoing store of information also enters into the study of
geography; how, will appear in the next chapter.
The soundness of the foregoing remarks is witnessed by the rapid
development of manual training-schools in the last decade, and the
almost universal desire, if not practice, of providing considerable
amounts of manual training for the pupils of the grammar grades.
The girls usually have some form of sewing and cooking, while the
boys have sloyd or other similar tool work in wood. The _rationale_
of requiring girls to do carpenter work instead of the forms of
manual exercise that especially pertain to their sex is not yet
satisfactorily established.
260. On the observation of the heavenly bodies is based popular
astronomy, which provides a test as to whether the mathematical
imagination has been properly cultivated.
261. Elementary statics and mechanics will serve as an early
introduction to physics, which combines with the easiest portions
of chemistry. Long before physics is formally presented, it must be
foreshadowed by many things stimulating the attention. Notice is
directed to clocks, mills, the most familiar phenomena of atmospheric
pressure, to electrical and magnetic toys, etc. In burgher schools,
at least, so much must be said about buildings and machines as is
necessary to incite to further study in the future. The same holds for
the fundamental facts of physiology.
262. As often as a new topic for study is introduced, it is important
to give prominence to some of the salient facts, and these must be
accurately memorized. Moreover, pupils need to have practice in exact
description. Where practicable, these descriptions are corrected by
actually looking at the objects themselves.
Hasty and superficial observation of objects presented for inspection
always calls for severe criticism; else collections and experiments
become valueless. Nor should objects be shown too lavishly; pupils must
often be told beforehand what they will have to look for. Frequently
it may serve the purpose to employ successively good descriptions,
pictures, and direct observation.
CHAPTER IV
=Geography=
263. As to geography, at least two courses may be distinguished. One of
these is analytic and begins with the pupil’s immediate neighborhood,
the topography of the place, while the other starts with the globe.
Here only the former will be discussed, as the latter can be had
directly from good text-books.
=Note.=--The usual method of taking the globe as the point of
departure would be less open to criticism, if, in order to render
the conception of the earth’s sphericity more intelligible,
attention were directed to the shape of the moon, the observation
being carried on occasionally with the aid of a telescope. But
even if this is done, it still remains a blunder to substitute the
faint and vague idea of a huge ball for direct perception. Equally
injudicious is the plan of beginning with Portugal and Spain.
That spot where pupils and teacher are at the moment is the point
from which the pupils must take their bearings, and in thought
extend their horizon. It will never do to pass over the natural
starting-points provided by sense-perception.
Had the note to this section been properly heeded, we should not have
had to wait for fifty years after Herbart’s death before witnessing
the present rational methods of applying geographical science to
elementary education. It is the proud boast of the modern elementary
geography that it begins with a study of the pupil’s actual
environment. The term _home geography_ has now become a familiar one.
It signifies that the pupil is taught to observe the geographical
elements as they exist in his own neighborhood. He studies hills,
watercourses, soil, woods, lakes, together with the industrial
phenomena that come within the reach of his investigation. Upon
this primary sense-basis he rears the structure of his geographical
knowledge.
264. Geography is an associating science, and use must be made of
the opportunities it offers for binding together a variety of facts,
none of which should be allowed to remain isolated in the mind of the
learner. It is not the mathematical portion, supplemented and made
interesting by popular astronomy, that serves as the first connecting
link between mathematics and history (second course); even the
rudiments of geography may, on the basis of observation exercises,
furnish practice in the determination of triangles which occur on the
first maps used, although this step is not always necessary when once
some skill has been acquired in singling out features worthy of note.
(The determination of position by latitude and longitude is, for the
first course, as irrational as the action of a traveller in Germany
or France would be if he set about to put together the picture of the
places where he expects to remain, with the aid of their relation to
the equator and the first meridian.)
Physical geography presupposes some knowledge of nature, and furnishes
the occasion for enriching that knowledge. Political geography
designates the manner in which man inhabits and uses the earth’s
surface. It is the pedagogical aim of instruction in geography to
associate all this.
265. The teacher must cultivate the art of narration; his accounts must
resemble those of a traveller. But the narrative should conflict with
the determination of the relative position of places (by grouping them
about one principal place, and in the case of more than one by the use
of triangles) as little as, in teaching history, the story of events
should conflict with the scheme of chronology. The two go together. The
narrative is to present a clear picture, and to this end requires the
support of a few fixed points in space. On the other hand, these points
should not remain isolated; they are to be connected by the lines of
the picture.
266. It is not a matter of indifference how many unfamiliar names are
mentioned in one minute or hour. Nor is it immaterial whether they
are uttered before or after perception of the picture which the map
presents. The first requisite is that every map placed before the
pupils be conceived of as a country; three, at most four, names of
rivers, and the names of a few mountains are sufficient; completeness
is out of place here. The few names given provide ample opportunity
for fixing the position of notable points, both with reference to one
another and to the boundary lines of the country.
Due prominence having been given to these geographical features, they
should then be connected, say with the aid of a blackboard, on which
they are roughly sketched one by one, and properly joined together
afterward. In the case of the sources and outlets of rivers, this may
be done by a line to indicate the course. If now the pupils have made
good previous use of their eyes, especially if they have noticed the
fall of brooks and rivers, and have observed the slope of the ground
in a particular region,--if they have not, the deficiency must be made
good first of all,--it will not be too early to pass on to a general
description of the appearance which the country under consideration
would present to a traveller. And now the time has come for a somewhat
fuller mention of the names of rivers and mountains, but these names
must at once be gone over several times by the pupils. Doing so will
reveal whether the list of new names has been made too long; it is
often largely due to carelessness in this respect, if the study of
geography proves barren or onerous. Next in order follow detailed
descriptions of particular wonders of nature, where there are such.
Attention is then given to some of the principal cities, mention
being made of the number of inhabitants. Here the determination of
relative location comes in again, and for this the self-activity of the
pupils is indispensable. Finally, human industry and art, so far as
they relate to the products of the country, together with the little
of political organization that pupils can grasp. The names of the
provinces should ordinarily be omitted from the first course.
This section is suggestive of the old geography of the last half
century,--location, names, maps, the barren details of the science.
Geography is something richer than all this. The old geography was
political in the foregoing sense. The first break was in making it
physiographical, the last in making it social. Names as such are
nothing, and physical facts little more, but both become of value
as soon as they are brought into relation to man,--his life, his
work, his recreation. Geography is not essentially the location of
places, nor is it physiography, but it is a study of the essential
facts concerning the surface of the earth as they are related to man
himself; it is, in short, _human_ in the fullest sense. It gives a
concrete explanation of civilization; it explains the production,
the exchange, and, to some extent, the consumption of goods. It
contrasts countries, not so much by square miles, as by the number
of miles of railroads they possess. (The most momentous fact of
modern civilization is the railroad. Twelve billions of dollars are
invested in it in the United States alone. In view of these facts,
what shall be said of those recent geographies that keep the children
poring over primitive maps for years--maps without a suggestion of a
railroad in them? This is an illustration of how prone education is
to lag behind the progress of society.)
267. The reviews, which should be frequent, must steadily work toward
a growing firmness of association between names and places. Each name
is to be referred to the place it designates; hence the sequence of
names must often be reversed, and the map looked over in all directions
and from all points of view. How far to go is determined in accordance
with individual capacity. From some, only what is absolutely essential
can be demanded; from others, much more, in order that they may exert
themselves properly.
268. In the midst of other studies on which greater stress is laid,
geography is as a rule slighted by pupils and sometimes even by
teachers. This attitude merits severe criticism. Instruction in
geography may be reduced to a minimum, the first course even requires
this, but it should not be disparaged. With many pupils, geography
is the first study which gives them the consciousness that they can
learn as they are expected to learn. With all pupils, geography must
connect the remaining studies and must keep them connected. Without
it everything remains unstable. Historical events lack places and
distances; products of nature are without the regions where they are
found; popular astronomy, which is called upon so often to prevent
and dispel erroneous notions, is deprived of its very basis, and the
geometrical imagination of one of its most important incentives. If the
facts of knowledge are allowed to fall asunder in this way, instruction
endangers the whole of education.
CHAPTER V
=The Mother-tongue=
269. There would be less controversy about language teaching if
existing differences in conditions were given proper attention.
The most general distinction to make is that between understanding and
speaking. The distance between the two is a given factor at the time
when regular instruction begins. It is very great in some cases, and,
again, slight in others, according to individual aptitude and early
surroundings.
270. First of all, one’s language was acquired by hearing it spoken, by
receiving it from others, by imitation; it was refined or vulgar; it
was perceived accurately or indistinctly; it was imitated by organs,
good, bad, or indifferent. Little by little the imperfections of the
earliest stage are outgrown, where cultured persons set a daily example
and insist on correctness of speech. Sometimes, however, it takes years
to bring about such a result.
271. Another factor, and one deeply rooted in individual temperament,
is the stronger or weaker impulse toward expression through language.
This fact elevates the language of each one above mere imitation; its
improvement must start from the thoughts which it seeks to express.
Striking progress of this kind often occurs during adolescence.
The differences noted in this and the two preceding sections are
psychological, hence common to German and American children. The
problem of teaching American children their mother-tongue, assumed to
be English, is both harder and easier than to teach German to German
children. It is easier in that English is mostly uninflected, hence
unencumbered by nice distinctions in grammatical form. This same
fact, on the other hand, causes didactic difficulties, since most
teachers are at a loss as to what definite body of knowledge they
should or can impart that will train the child into a mastery of good
English speech. The last twenty years have seen a large number of
experiments on the part of authors in the effort to present a body of
information and exercises calculated to secure a good training in the
mother-tongue. These efforts have met with but partial success, owing
to the inherent difficulties of the subject. Many who can teach a
foreign language, where there is a movable fulcrum of difficulties to
be overcome, such as those found in inflection, or in the meaning of
foreign words, fail when confronted by a language that is practically
uninflected, and in which the words are easily understood.
The old recourse was technical grammar. But this is an analytical
study, calculated to lead to apprehension of subtle meanings, rather
than to an instinct for correct form. Furthermore, the grammar cannot
be successfully studied until after the habits of speech are fairly
fixed. For these reasons, it bears much the same relation to living
speech that formal logic does to real thinking. Grammar makes the
mind keen to detect formal errors of speech, just as logic trains
one to detect fallacies in reasoning.
The first important instrument for securing good English in the
early primary grades is narration by the teacher and repetition
by the children. This means, potent enough to form the speech of
any child whether from the slums or from the homes of those who
know no English, is rarely utilized up to the full measure of its
efficiency. Teachers are filled with the prepossession that they
must enable their pupils to write good English, forgetting that if
the mind is habituated to _think_ in good English first, the problem
of writing it is well-nigh solved. The requisites for successful
oral training in the mother-tongue are first, the selection of a
body of interesting and appropriate literature, and second, skill in
narration by the teacher. Given these two things, and we have the
first in great abundance, and every child will be able in a year
to give extended and correct speech within the range of his sphere
of thought to an almost unlimited extent. His tenacious memory for
forms frequently heard, together with his delight in repeating almost
word for word stories told in his presence, will produce astonishing
facility in correct speech. As much of this may be written as seems
best, but it is probable that there would not be great loss if a
child were not called upon to write a ‘composition’ before he is ten
or twelve years old. Could we be sure he would go through the high
school, formal writing might be postponed until he enters it. Not
much is ever gained by attempts to produce fruit before its natural
period for appearing.
Upon the basis of this training in correct oral speech, the children
may begin, when nine or ten years of age, to have systematic language
lessons, which should be calculated to produce two results: first, a
facile use of the pen in recording thought, special caution being
given not to weary the mind and body too much by unduly extending
the length of the written exercises; second, an inductive approach,
through brief written exercises, toward the classifications and
distinctions of technical grammar. To be of use, this latter
requirement should be clearly understood. The method of approach
is purely synthetic. It consists in devices to enable the pupil
repeatedly to use a given construction, say a relative pronoun, until
the name and construction seem natural from use alone.[35]
At the age of thirteen or fourteen the analytical study of grammar
should be begun. The essential thing here is that the pupil should
connect _words_ with the _ideas_ they express, and _sentences_ with
the _thoughts_ that give rise to them.[36] Seeing mental distinctions
clearly, he has small difficulty in their written or oral expression.
[35] For extended illustration of this point, see the “Annotator’s
Language Lessons,” the Werner School Book Co., New York, Boston, and
Chicago.
[36] This position is best exemplified by Mr. George P. Brown in his
“Essentials of English Grammar,” the Werner School Book Co., New York,
Boston, and Chicago.
272. Now such facts might seem to point to the conclusion that no
special periods of instruction are needed for the mother-tongue, or
at least not for language lessons alone. On the one hand, it might be
urged that cultured teachers will improve the language of their pupils
by their mere example, and by the occasional corrections which will of
course be necessary; while, on the other hand, the gradual progress of
mental development will shape the means of expression from within, to
the natural limits of individual capacity. But before accepting the
view here given, we need to remind ourselves, in the first place, that
for a long time the educated teacher is only imperfectly understood by
the uneducated listener, and that instruction is very much impeded if
each unusual turn of expression necessitates an inquiry as to whether
its meaning is clear.
273. But this is not all. Language is also to be read and written.
Hence, it becomes a standing object for consideration, and, to one
whose knowledge of it is deficient, a source of embarrassment.
Accordingly, the first thing for the teacher to do is to show
analytically, on the basis of what has been read or written, how
the meaning would be lost or altered if either single words were
interchanged, or the inflectional endings (especially in German) were
incorrectly chosen. That the synthesis of sentences should follow next,
advancing step by step toward greater complexity, especially by means
of various conjunctions, may be assumed to be well understood.
274. Now if all experienced equal difficulty in their reading and
writing, the language lessons designed as a remedy would commend
themselves in all cases, and might fittingly be carried to the same
extent everywhere.
But here the widest divergence appears. Accordingly, where many are
being taught together, the teacher will seek to connect language work
with other subjects. Thus, in the course of the same recitation,
analytic instruction may be directed to the language side for some
pupils, while for others it may be given a far wider scope. Moreover,
the accompanying written exercises may have a corresponding diversity.
275. The work of a recitation period will be further diversified by the
introduction of exercises in reading aloud, and in oral reproduction.
But never will it be possible to raise all pupils to the same plane of
proficiency. Here, above all, the determining power of individuality
must be acknowledged.
276. For older boys and young men, the work in the mother-tongue will
consist partly in the study of excellent examples of the various kinds
of poetry and oratory, partly in the writing of essays. Such study
will prove the more profitable, the more perfect the models, the more
suitably they are adapted to the stage of culture already attained
by the student, and the more scrupulously the teacher refrains from
forcing upon him a literary taste not congenial to his nature. The
least promising of all written exercises are those in letter-writing.
Confidential letters every one can write, each in his own way. Best of
all are written exercises with a definite and rich store of thought
to draw from and admitting of various forms of treatment. Several may
then emulate each other in handling the same theme, and the process of
correcting will awaken greater interest in consequence.
CHAPTER VI
=Greek and Latin=
277. As is well known, the exposition of grammatical distinctions
and of the many turns of expression whereby language may become an
adequate symbolization of thought, gains very materially in clearness
by a comparison of the mother-tongue with Latin and Greek. Even with
boys not more than eight years old the attempt may be made to utilize
this advantage in the teaching of English, whether it has been finally
decided, or not, that they are to take the regular classical course.
Some boys learn, without much trouble, enough of Latin inflections to
enable them soon to translate short sentences from the mother-tongue
into Latin, and _vice versa_.
The present plan in Germany is to have boys in the gymnasia begin the
study of Latin at the age of ten. The study is continued for a period
of nine years. Greek is begun three years later and continued for
six years. In the United States the prevailing plan is to postpone
the study of Latin until the pupil enters the high school at the age
of fourteen or fifteen. Good private schools and many city grammar
schools permit children to begin when some two years younger than
this. The Report on College Entrance Requirements made before the
National Educational Association in 1899 suggested the propriety
of extending the influence of the high school over the two highest
grades of the grammar school, making in effect a six-year high school
course. For students who expect to enter college or technical schools
this plan offers great advantages, since it permits the desirable
preparation to be distributed over six years instead of being
concentrated into four.
278. This experiment will not, however, be long continued; since, with
the large majority of pupils, the difficulties accumulate so rapidly as
to lead unavoidably to the admission that the burden cannot be assumed
merely for the sake of incidental advantages. Moreover, the customary
view, handed down from the time of the Reformation, of the relation of
the classical languages to the sciences, and to the needs of the age,
is undergoing a change more and more apparent from decade to decade.
The labor implied in the study of the ancient languages now pays only
where talent combines with the earnest purpose to achieve the most
complete scholarship.
This remark is prophetic of the enormous increase of instruction
in the sciences since Herbart’s day, yet Latin has also enjoyed a
phenomenal increase in popularity in American schools. According to
the Report of the National Commissioner of Education the increase of
enrollment in high schools for the years between 1890 and 1898 was
84 per cent, while the increase in the number of students pursuing
Latin was 174 per cent.[37] This surprising growth in the number
pursuing an ancient language can hardly be accounted for by increased
stringency in college entrance requirements in Latin, but must rather
be ascribed to a growing conviction among the people that the study
is indispensable in secondary education. That this must be the case
is seen by the attendant circumstances. In the first place, Latin has
become an elective in nearly all high schools; in the next place,
many rich equivalents are offered, both in science and in modern
languages; and finally our system of universal elementary education
has sent large classes of persons into the secondary schools that
have never previously been there. Yet the number of students electing
this study grows by leaps and bounds.
=Note.=--(1) The assertion is often heard that the ancient
languages supply a permanent standard by which to judge of the
progress and the decay of modern languages; also that the ancient
classics must be regarded as furnishing the models for purity and
beauty in style. These and similar contentions are undeniably
correct, and carry the greatest weight, but they are unpedagogical.
They embody the absolute requirement, but not that which younger
pupils need for _their_ culture; and the large majority of those
who are fitting themselves for official positions cannot afford to
make themselves guardians of language and style. They must take
language as it is, and acquire the manner of expression which is
adapted to the world of affairs. Those higher cares belong to
authors, but no one is educated for authorship.
(2) It is a familiar notion that the difficulty would diminish if
the ancient languages were begun later, that then the ability to
learn would prove greater. On the contrary, the older the pupil the
stronger the tendency of his thought-mass toward exclusion. Memory
work must be introduced early, especially where its usefulness
depends wholly on the acquisition of facility. It is essential to
begin early in order to make it possible to proceed slowly and to
avoid unpedagogical pressure. Four hours a week of Latin do not
hurt a healthy, bright boy, provided his other tasks are arranged
with pedagogical correctness. To put modern languages first would
be to put the cart before the horse. Useful enough, however, are
single French and English expressions relating to everyday life.
They will be of service in acquiring the pronunciation; but a few
phrases do not constitute the teaching of a language.
[37] Bennett and Bristol, “The Teaching of Latin and Greek,” Longmans,
Green & Co., New York, 1900.
279. The manner of teaching the ancient languages, where they are
regarded as a matter of necessity or conventionality, no account being
taken of pedagogical considerations, need not be discussed here. It
must rather be admitted at once that no pedagogical means whatever
exist, whereby those who live with their interests strictly confined
to the present could be brought to acquire, with genuine sympathy, the
content of the works of antiquity.
American teachers in estimating the value of Latin for the high
school student lay more stress upon training in the mastery of the
mother-tongue than upon the literary contents of the classical
writings. Professor Bennett in his treatment of “The Teaching of
Latin in the Secondary School,”[38] places in strong light the
splendid linguistic training a youth undergoes when taught by a good
teacher of this subject. In Germany, since Herbart’s time, Professor
Russell tells us that the teaching of Latin has fluctuated between
two aims--“between that view which makes the classics a purely formal
discipline, and that other view which bases the worth of such a
study on the acquisition of humanistic culture, in contact with ‘the
best thoughts of the best men of antiquity.’ In the one case it is
considered of equal value as a means of preparation for all trades
and professions dependent on intellectual acumen; in the other case
it is of worth only for those who can practically apply the technical
knowledge thereby acquired, or may have sufficient leisure to enjoy
its æsthetic qualities. It is a question of making the ancient
literature a means to an end or an end in itself.”[39]
The dogma of formal discipline as a leading aim in education has
nowhere been more discredited than among Herbartian writers. A
judicious estimate of its truth and error is made by Professor
Hinsdale.[40] His main conclusions are as follows:--
1. The degree to which power generated by education is general
depends upon the extent to which it energizes the mind, and
particularly the extent to which it overflows into congruent channels.
2. Such power is far more special than general; it is only in a
limited sense that we can be said to have a store of mobilized mental
power.
3. No one kind of mental exercise--no few kinds--can develop the
whole mind.
4. No study, no single group of studies, contains within itself the
possibilities of a whole education.
On the other hand, American students rarely study classics long
enough to acquire much facility in mastering the literary contents of
the ancient writers. If, to considerable extent, the idea of formal
discipline is a delusive one, and the idea of a broad, humanistic
culture is an illusion of the American schoolmaster, we must justify
the study of Latin upon other grounds. The linguistic advantages
arising from it are obvious and decided. Among these stands first the
mastery of the mother-tongue, first through the comparative study
rendered necessary by translation, then by study of the roots of a
large part of the English vocabulary, and more remotely by the light
thrown by Latin upon history and institutional life.
There is an advantage in Latin of great, though usually unmentioned,
importance, and that is its peculiar usefulness as an educational
instrument, in that it presents to the pupil a graduated scale of
surmountable difficulties. In this respect it is surpassed only by
mathematics. The difference between a good and a poor educational
instrument lies in this: a study offering few surmountable obstacles
is a poor educational instrument, for the pupil can find no fulcrum
upon which to use his mental powers. Thus he may stare at a natural
object when directed to observe its characteristics, but he finds
it hard to think when no thought problem is presented to him. But a
study that involves thought problems of a definite and solvable kind
is a good educational instrument, for the pupil finds something to
move and a fulcrum upon which he may exert his power. Translation
from an ancient language exercises the working powers of a student up
to their highest efficiency, for the translation of ten sentences may
easily provide the hardest kind of work for an hour; if ten lines do
not, then more lines will. When a foreign language ceases to offer
such surmountable difficulties, we leave it for something else that
does offer them.
[38] Bennett and Bristol, “The Teaching of Latin and Greek,” pp. 11–32,
Longmans, Green & Co., New York, 1900.
[39] Russell, “German Higher Schools,” Longmans, Green & Co., New York,
1899.
[40] Hinsdale, “Studies in Education,” pp. 46–61, Werner School Book
Co., Chicago, 1896.
280. Pedagogically considered, every difference in the degree of vivid
realization of antiquity, in the degree of its correlation with
other main departments of knowledge, and in the extent to which a
disagreeable aftertaste of school-day drudgery is prevented, determines
the greater or smaller value to be ascribed to the knowledge acquired.
If the same realization could be secured without the ancient languages
and without the potency of early impressions, then the studies
mentioned in preceding chapters, which outline the work of burgher
schools, would leave nothing further to be desired; and the study of
the ancient languages in gymnasia would be a necessary evil, highly as
their incidental advantages are usually extolled.
281. But languages alone give to a boy a picture neither of bygone
ages nor of men of the past; to him they are solely troublesome tasks
imposed by the teacher. Nor can golden maxims, fables, and short
narratives change his attitude. For even if these are well suited to
the youthful mind, they do not materially offset the aversion to the
work on stems, which have to be memorized; inflections, which must be
practised; and conjunctions, which are required for guidance in the
study of periods.
Ancient history (243, 246) is the only possible groundwork for the
pedagogical treatment of the ancient languages.
282. Now it is true that if Latin is begun first, Eutropius and
Cornelius Nepos suggest themselves as suitable authors for study, as
soon as the merest rudiments of Latin have been learned in connection
with instruction in the mother-tongue (277). And their use is not to
be entirely condemned, provided the teacher takes it upon himself to
make the past present through narration. But, as is well known, these
authors are after all very meagre, and, besides, where to look for a
path beyond them still remains an open question.
283. The reasons which accord to Homer’s “Odyssey” the preference
for early use are familiar.[41] They are patent to every one who
attentively reads the “Odyssey” with constant reference to the various
main classes of interest which teaching is to awaken (83–94). But the
question involved is not merely one of immediate effect, but also of
finding points of departure for the later stages of instruction. There
can be no better preparation for ancient history than to establish an
interest in ancient Greece by means of the Homeric story. At the same
time, the soil is being made ready for the cultivation of taste, and
for language study.
To reasons of this kind, derived directly from the chief aim of all
teaching and opposed only by tradition (the conventional _doing_ of
the classics), the philologists will have to listen some time, if they
are not willing that, with the growing importance of history and of
the natural sciences, and with the increasing pressure of material
interests, the study of Greek in schools should be pushed into a corner
and suffer a reduction similar to that which has already taken place
in the case of Hebrew. (A few decades ago Greek came very near being
remitted for all but those intending to study theology.)
Of course, the “Odyssey” possesses no miraculous power to inspire
those who have no talent whatever for language studies or do not take
them seriously; nevertheless, as many years of experience have shown,
it surpasses every other work of antiquity that might be selected in
definite pedagogical effect. Moreover, its study does not preclude
an early commencement of Latin (nor even of Greek, where that seems
necessary); only Latin cannot be pushed with the customary rapidity
at the same time; for the “Odyssey” requires an hour daily, and
grammatical and lexicological work besides.
Experience has proved that the grammatical rudiments pertaining to
declension and conjugation must be worked over very carefully first,
although reduced to what is absolutely essential. Besides, the first
lessons in the “Odyssey” ought not to exceed a few lines each time;
and, during the first months, no accurate memorizing of words is to
be demanded. But farther on the acquisition of a vocabulary must be
vigorously insisted on; in fact, it becomes the pupil’s most necessary
collateral work. By continued effort in this direction a considerable
portion of the whole stock of words is gradually acquired; the language
forms are supplied with the content to which they refer, and through
which they become significant. The teacher must know exactly, not only
when to hasten on, but also when to delay; for every perceptible gain
in facility is likely to betray pupils into some carelessness which
needs to be corrected at once. With good pupils it is not infeasible
to read the whole of the “Odyssey,” since facility increases very
rapidly toward the end. Nevertheless, such work should not extend much
beyond two years; otherwise weariness sets in, or time is taken from
other things. In schools it will be well to assign the first four books
to one class, perhaps the class composed of pupils nine or ten years
old, the next class to begin with Book V. To determine exactly how
many books each class can work up thoroughly is unnecessary, as good
translations can be used to fill in the gaps that occur. The reason
for the division just made will be manifest at once upon a closer
inspection of the “Odyssey.” Some books more advanced pupils may later
on read by themselves, but they should be expected to render an account
of what they are doing. It is not necessary at this stage to explain in
detail the rarer peculiarities of the Homeric dialect. Such things may
well be deferred until, later in the course, the study of Homer (of
the “Iliad”) is resumed. The teacher who is afraid of the difficulties
connected with the plan presented should remind himself of the fact
that progress by any other path is equally beset with difficulties.
While at work on Homer, care should be taken to keep pupils from being
influenced simultaneously by such tales as those from the Arabian
Nights, because they blunt the sense of the wonderful.
[41] These reasons apply in no way to the “Iliad,” but only to
the “Odyssey.” Moreover, it is presupposed that religious feeling
has been sufficiently awakened long beforehand. In that case the
mythical elements can do no harm whatever, for, in so far as they
are inconsistent with religious feeling, their effect is decidedly
repellent, and renders an excess of illusion impossible.
284. Only two poets, two historians, and two philosophers need to be
mentioned to indicate the continuation of the course. Homer and Virgil;
Herodotus and Cæsar; Plato and Cicero. What authors should precede
these, or should intervene, or follow, may be left for circumstances
to determine. Xenophon, Livy, Euripides, Sophocles, and Horace will
probably always retain a place by the side of those mentioned; Horace
especially offers brief maxims, the after-effect of which the educator
should by no means underestimate. It is obvious that Virgil and
Herodotus are rendered much easier by taking up Homer first; on the
other hand, the return to Homer (to the “Iliad”) during adolescence, is
as little to be omitted, if only on account of mythology, as the return
to ancient history for purposes of pragmatic study (250). Again, the
syntactical scheme of the ancient languages, which involves far greater
difficulties than do even inflections and vocabulary, is more easily
mastered by placing the poets before the prose-writers, because then
the pupils are not compelled to struggle with all the difficulties of
sentence structure at once. At any rate, it is desirable that, just
as the student’s Greek vocabulary is built up from the “Odyssey,” his
hoard of Latin words should be drawn from the “Æneid.” The latter,
however, will hardly be read entirely, because it cannot be gone over
with nearly the same rapidity as the latter books of the “Odyssey,”
when facility in reading has been attained. Cæsar’s “Bellum Gallicum”
must be studied with exceptional carefulness, since its style comes
nearer to being a desirable first model for the student of Latin
than the style of the other authors in use. After this has been
accomplished, the strictly systematic teaching and memorizing of Latin
syntax, together with selected brief examples, is in order as one of
the main lines of work. In Plato several books of the “Republic,”
especially the first, second, fourth, and eighth, constitute a
desirable goal. That Cicero should be revealed to young minds on his
brilliant side first, namely, as orator, need scarcely be mentioned.
Later on his philosophical writings become important; but many passages
require a fuller development of the subject-matter than is given by him.
Cicero should frequently be read aloud, or rather declaimed, by the
teacher. An orator demands the living voice; the usual monotonous
reading by the pupils fails to do justice to him. As regards Tacitus
for school use, there is a difference of opinion. Generally speaking,
authors that say much in few words are particularly welcome, not
merely to the explaining teacher, but also to the responsive pupil.
The opposite is true of Cicero; he must be read rapidly in order to be
appreciated.
For a full discussion of Latin texts to be read, the reader is
referred to Professor Bennett’s chapters on “The Teaching of Latin
in the Secondary Schools,”[42] pp. 111–130. For a discussion of the
Greek texts, see Professor Bristol’s exposition in the same volume.
[42] Bennett and Bristol, “The Teaching of Latin and Greek,” Longmans,
Green & Co., New York, 1900.
285. Experience has long since shown how much or how little can be done
with students in Greek and Latin composition; and no method will ever
be devised which would induce earlier than at present that degree of
mental maturity which reveals itself in a good Latin style. So long as
gymnasium pupils are no more select than they now are, the majority,
so far as writing Latin is concerned, will begin something that will
never lead to successful performance. It would be better, instead, to
practise diligently that which can be achieved, namely, composition
during the recitation hour, with the assistance of the teacher, and,
afterward coöperative consideration of the appointed task, by the
pupils. This plan secures the advantage of set essays without the
disadvantage of innumerable mistakes, the correction of which the pupil
rarely remembers. Joint labor is interesting, and can be adapted to
every age. As a substitute for essays, abstracts in Latin of texts
previously interpreted are to be recommended, these abstracts to be
made at first with the help and afterward without the help of the book
in question. To abstract does not mean to imitate, and ought not to
mean that. To imitate Cicero requires Cicero’s talent, and unless this
exists, the attempt to imitate, it is to be feared, will result in
cold artificiality. Even Cæsar is not so simple that his style could
be taught and learned. But many passages of Cæsar may be memorized; at
first short sentences, then longer periods, finally whole chapters. The
usefulness of this practice is attested by experience.
CHAPTER VII
=Further Specification of Didactics=
286. The more precise determination of the theory of instruction
depends on the nature of particular subjects of instruction, on the
individuality of the pupil, and on the external conditions of ethical
life.
287. Where the goal to be reached is technical knowledge and
multiformity of scholarship, each branch of study asserts its claims
to thoroughness without regard to the rest. Such is the attitude of
the state, which requires many men with special training, together
constituting an efficient whole. Hence it disseminates knowledge and
establishes institutions of learning, without inquiring, save with
reference to future official appointments, who the individuals are that
avail themselves of the offered opportunities.
288. The family, on the other hand, interested as it is in the
individual, must take the pedagogical point of view, according to
which every human being is to realize the best he is capable of. It is
essential that families should grasp this distinction, and accordingly
concern themselves, not with greatness of particular achievements, but
with the totality of culture possible for the individual.
289. Closely connected with the foregoing is the difference between
interest and skill. Skill of various sorts can be obtained by force;
but it is of no value to general culture when the corresponding
interest is lacking.
Insistence on this distinction is a sufficient answer to much
uncalled-for criticism and much unwarrantable assumption of superior
knowledge concerning the results of early stages of instruction. These
results, it is charged, are inadequate; if this or that had been
converted earlier into ability to do, greater progress would have been
made. But when interest has not been aroused, and cannot be aroused,
compulsory acquisition of skill is not only worthless, leading as it
does to soulless mechanical activity, but positively injurious, because
it vitiates the pupil’s mental attitude and disposition.
290. Whether the pupil’s individuality will endure without injury the
pressure which drill in skilful performance would necessitate, is a
question which at times cannot be decided except by trial. Reading,
arithmetic, grammar, are familiar instances.
291. The more perfect the instruction, the greater the opportunity it
affords for comparing the excellences and faults of the individuals
receiving it simultaneously. This point is of importance both to the
continuation of instruction and to training; to the latter, because the
teacher’s insight into the causes of the faults which training has to
combat is deepened.
292. The ethical life may attach itself to views embracing the
universe; it may, on the contrary, move within a very narrow range
of thought. Now while it is true that external circumstances will
usually set limits to instruction, its scope should nevertheless not
be narrower, but in every way wider than the realm of necessary,
everyday prudence. Otherwise the individual will always be in danger of
exaggerating his own importance and that of persons closely related to
him.
293. It is more difficult, as a rule, to extend the mental horizon in
the direction of the past, than within the present. In teaching girls,
therefore, and children from the lower classes, greater prominence
is given to geography and whatever can be grouped about it than to
historical studies. Again, in cases where a shortening of the course of
study becomes necessary, it becomes well-nigh necessary to take account
of the difference in question. But, conversely, where the scope of
instruction is to be wide, the historical side, because more difficult,
must receive increased attention.
SECTION II
THE FAULTS OF PUPILS AND THEIR TREATMENT
CHAPTER I
=General Differentiation=
294. Some faults are inherent; they are a part of the pupil’s
individuality. Others have sprung up in the course of time; and of
these, again, some have been influenced by the factor of individuality
more than others. Faults that the pupil commits are left out of
account for the present. With increasing years some of the inherent
faults grow, others diminish. For there is a continual change of
relation between that which man derives from experience,--between
those ideas which rise spontaneously, and those masses of ideas which
approach stability. There is, besides, an ever varying succession of
diverse reproductions. All this change is pervaded throughout by the
consciousness of one’s own body (the original base of support for
self-consciousness) with respect not merely to its needs, but also to
its powers of motion and fitness for use. Again, the apprehension
of the similar is being multiplied; the ideas of things approximate
to general concepts. In addition, the process of judging is shaping
more and more the material presented; accordingly the manner in which
the individual analyzes and puts in order his knowledge becomes
gradually determined. On the one hand there is a growing confidence of
affirmation; on the other, questions remain, the answer to which is
given over to the future. In part they become transformed into longing
expectation.
Upon all that has been enumerated, the physical organization of the
individual exerts retarding and furthering influences. The effect of
the body is seen in a certain physiological resistance to psychical
processes, and in strong physical impulses far more complex, no doubt,
than ordinary experience shows.
295. Very frequently the fact forces itself upon us, that persons who
have passed through many vicissitudes of fortune can nevertheless be
recognized by individual traits that were already noticeable in youth.
Here a certain uniformity reveals itself in the characteristic way
and manner in which such persons involuntarily seize upon and work
up various impressions. In order to arrive at a just estimate of his
pupils, the teacher should observe this permanent element as early as
possible.
Some always know the right moment and whither it calls them; they
always perform the nearest duty, and have their stock of knowledge
uniformly well in hand. Others bury themselves in thought, and give
themselves up to hopes and fears, to plans and projects: they live
in the past or in the future, resent being disturbed by the present,
and require time and effort to bring themselves back to it. Between
the former and the latter are found others, who do indeed note the
given and the present, not, however, to take it as it appears, but
rather to look beyond, for the purpose of spying what lies concealed
behind, or in order to move, displace, interfere, perhaps to distort,
ridicule, and caricature. With many the tendency described is merely
superficial. They play and tease--a common manifestation of youthful
animal spirits. Now the question arises: how much seriousness lies
back of the playfulness. How much depth beneath the animated surface?
Here temperament enters as a factor. The play of one with a sanguine
temperament comes to an end; but where sourness of temper is habitual,
there danger threatens, if, as commonly happens, sport turns to
earnest. Self-assertion plays a part also, manifesting itself in
various ways. It assumes one form in him who has confidence in his
strength, physical or mental, and another form in those who know their
weakness--with or without the mental reservation as to the future
employment of artifice or cunning, and so also with more or less
acknowledgment of the superior power or authority. Passionate playing,
on the whole, implies little seriousness; but may well indicate
sensitiveness and a propensity to freedom from restraint. Prudence in
sport is a sign of ability to take the opponent’s point of view, and
to foresee his plans. Love of play is far more welcome to the teacher
than indolence, or languid curiosity, or gloomy seriousness; it is one
of the minor faults, if now and then work is forgotten over a game and
time wasted; the situation is more grave, sometimes very grave indeed,
where extravagance, or greed of gain, or secretiveness, or bad company
is involved. In such cases decided interference on the part of the
teacher is necessary.
296. Since courage and rationality grow with increasing years, the
faults of mere weakness leave room for hope of improvement, although
there is need of an invigorating mode of life, invigorating physically
and mentally, and of counsel and reproof in particular instances. Under
continued watchful care weak natures improve much more than at first
thought would seem to be likely.
297. Unsteadiness, continual restlessness, where they accompany good
health without being the result of external stimulation, are doubtful
indications. Here it will be well to look to the sequence of thoughts.
Where, in spite of variableness in general, thoughts are sound and
well connected, this restlessness is not a serious matter. The case is
worse when the opposite is true, especially when the vascular system
appears very irritable, and dreamlike reveries occur. Here the danger
of insanity is seen lurking in the distance.
The appropriate treatment for such pupils consists in holding them
strictly to definite tasks, especially to those occupations that
compel a close observation of the external world, and in exacting the
performance of the work assigned, without failing to encourage whatever
is undertaken from choice.
298. Sensual impulses and violence of temper are apt to go from bad to
worse as pupils grow older. Against these, careful supervision, earnest
censure, and the whole rigor of moral principles must be brought to
bear. Momentary ebullitions of passion, however, unless persistently
obstinate attempts are made to justify them, need to be handled gently,
that is, as evils calling for precaution and vigilance.
299. The faults hitherto noted lie for the most part on the surface.
Others have to be studied as occasion offers in instruction.
There are minds so dull that even the attempt merely to secure
connection with definite portions of such thoughts as they have
does not succeed. Easy questions intended to raise their ideas into
consciousness only increase the resistance to be overcome. They are
seized with embarrassment from which they seek to escape, sometimes by
a simple, “I don’t know,” sometimes by the first wrong answer that
comes to hand. Mental activity has to be enforced, yet remains feeble
at best, and it is only in after years, under pressure of necessity,
that they acquire some facility for a limited sphere. Others, whom one
would be inclined to call contracted rather than generally limited,
because by them reproduction is performed successfully but within a
narrow compass, exhibit a lively endeavor to learn, but they learn
mechanically, and what cannot be learned in that way they apprehend
incorrectly. These undertake, nevertheless, to form and express
judgments, but their judgments turn out to be erroneous; hence they
become first discouraged and then obstinate. Again, there are those
whose ideas cannot be dislodged, and still others whose ideas cannot
be brought to a halt. These two classes call for a more detailed
consideration.
300. Among the various masses of ideas (29) some necessarily acquire
permanent predominance, others come and go. But if this relation
reaches full development and becomes fixed too early, the controlling
ideas no longer admit of being arrested to the extent necessary
for the reception of the new material offered by instruction. This
fact explains the experience that clever boys, notwithstanding the
best intentions to receive instruction, yet frequently appear very
unreceptive, and that a certain rigidity of mind, which in later
manhood would not occasion surprise, seems to have strayed, as it
were, into boyhood. No one should allow himself to be betrayed into
encouraging such narrowness by commendatory terms such as pertain to
strength and energy; just as little, however, should clumsy teaching
and its sequel, listless learning, be left out of account, as having no
bearing on this state of affairs.
For, rather may it be assumed that the fault mentioned might have been
largely forestalled by very early instruction of all kinds, provided
such instruction had been combined with a variety of attractive
rather than of too difficult tasks. Where, on the other hand, mental
nervousness has once taken root, it cannot be eradicated by all the art
and painstaking effort of a multitude of teachers. When the questions
of a child, six years old let us say, give rise to the apprehension
that they proceed from a too contracted mental horizon, there should be
no delay about resorting to manifold forms of stimulation, especially
in the way of widening the pupil’s experience to the greatest
practicable extent.
301. On the other hand, it is not rare to find boys, and even young
men, in whose minds no one thought-mass attains to any very prominent
activity. Such boys are always open to every impression and ready for
any change of thought. They are wont to chat pleasantly, and to form
hasty attachments. Here belong those who learn easily and forget as
quickly.
This defect, too, when once confirmed, resists all skill and good
intentions; strength of purpose, from the very nature of the case,
is out of the question. The situation varies in gravity, however,
according to the influences of the earliest environment. If these
proved distracting, the fault mentioned assumes alarming proportions
even in minds otherwise well endowed. But where some form or other
of necessary respect has been steadily at work, the youth will raise
himself to a higher plane than the boy gave promise of doing. Least
of all, however, can the teacher allow himself to be betrayed into
hoping for a future development of talent by superficial alertness,
combined, it may be, with droll fancies, bold pranks, and the like.
Talent reveals itself through persistent endeavor, sustained even under
circumstances little favorable to it, and not until such endeavor
clearly manifests itself is the thought of giving it support to be
entertained.
The two faults under discussion may indeed come to light only in the
course of time; nevertheless, they are inherent faults, and can be
mitigated, to be sure, but not completely cured.
302. Far easier to deal with are the erratic movements of energetic
characters capable of ardent enthusiasm. The mere thoroughness and
many-sidedness of good instruction, which emphasizes and aims to
effect rational connection and balance of mind, obviously supply the
corrective.
303. Originally it would have been easier to have prevented those
faults which are due to the mismanagement or to the omission of early
government, instruction, or training. But with time, the difficulties
of a cure grow in a very rapid ratio. In general, it is well to note
that the teacher has every reason to congratulate himself, if, after
early neglect, there appear under improved treatment some belated
traces of those questions which belong to the sixth or seventh year of
childhood (213).
CHAPTER II
=The Sources of Moral Weakness=
304. Under this head five main points come up for consideration:--
(1) Tendencies of the child’s will impulses.
(2) Ethical judgments and their absence.
(3) Formation of maxims.
(4) Organization of maxims.
(5) Application of organized maxims.
305. (1) Where training has not provided for occupation and for the
distribution of time, we must always expect to encounter an activity
which has no aim, and which forgets its own purposes. From such a state
of affairs arise a craving for liberty averse to all control, and,
where several pupils are grouped together, contention, either for the
possession of something or for the sake of showing off. Each wants
to be first; recognition of the just equality of all is deliberately
refused. Mutual ill-will intrenches itself and stealthily waits for an
opportunity to break forth. Here is the fountain head of many passions;
even those which spring from excessive sensuousness must be classed
under this first head, in so far as they are promoted by lack of
regulated activity. The havoc caused by passions is a pervading element
in the discussion of all of the remaining topics.
306. (2) It is true that education usually counteracts the tendency to
indolence and to unruliness, not only by the use of the spur and the
bridle, but also through guidance in the direction of the proprieties;
giving rise to the thought “what will others say,” it shows existing
conditions as mirrored in the minds of others. But when these others
are compelled to remain silent, or when the pupil is sure of their
partiality, or is exposed to their errors of judgment, the effect is to
vitiate rather than to arouse the ethical judgment.
Nevertheless, calling attention to the judgment of others, and not
merely of particular individuals, is very much better than waiting
for the spontaneous awakening of ethical judgment. In most cases the
waiting would be in vain. Matters of ethical import are either too
close to the ordinary human being, and so, of course, to the boy left
entirely to himself, or they are too remote, _i.e._, either they have
not as yet passed outside the pale of affection or aversion, or else
they are already fading from the field of vision. In neither case can
an ethical judgment be formed with success. At any rate, it will vanish
before it can produce an effect.
In order to reach those ethical judgments on which morality rests, the
child must see will images, see them without the stirring of his own
will impulse.
These will images, moreover, must embrace relations, the single members
of which are themselves wills, and the beholder is to keep such members
equally in sight, until the estimate of value rises spontaneously
within him. But such contemplation implies a keenness and calmness of
apprehension not to be looked for in unruly children. Hence it may
be inferred how necessary training is--serious, not to say severe,
training. Unruliness must have been tamed and regular attention
secured. The preliminary condition fulfilled, it is further essential
that there shall be no lack of sufficiently distinct presentations of
the foregoing will images. And even then the ethical judgment often
matures so tardily that it has to be pronounced in the name of other
persons--persons higher in authority.
307. In this connection the instances of one-sidedness of ethical
judgment must not be overlooked, such as occur when one of the
practical ideas stands out more prominently than another, or when that
which is outwardly proper rises above them all.
308. (3) All desires persistently operative and productive of
fluctuating states of emotional excitement, therefore rightly called
passions, lead to experiential knowledge of the beneficial and the
injurious. The beneficial suggests frequent repetition in the future,
the injurious continued avoidance. Accordingly rules of life take
shape, and the resolution always to observe them is made. In other
words, maxims result.
From simple resolution to actual observance is still, to be sure, a far
cry. But the claim for the universal validity of the rule, so that the
individual may regard it as applicable to others as well as to himself,
enters the mind far more directly by way of desires which point forward
to similar cases in the future, than it does under the guidance of
ethical judgments whose universal element is abstracted from given
single instances with difficulty. In fact, this difficulty is often so
great that the ethical judgment itself may be missed in the search for
the universal.
309. Now, the promptness and loyalty of obedience to the sum total of
duties, once recognized as such and fixed through the maxims adopted,
are passed upon by the moral judgment. Correct moral judgment,
therefore, presupposes true insight into the value of will, which
insight again can be obtained only through the ethical estimate as a
whole. But in view of the circumstances pointed out a moment ago, we
must expect to come upon maxims that are false or at least inaccurate.
Under the latter head fall points of honor, social obligations, fear of
ridicule.
310. (4) Maxims ought to form a unit, but in youth they are not fully
determined even singly, much less are they closely united into a
definite whole. The proviso of exceptions still clings to them, so also
that of future tests through experience.
The maxims arising out of the desires and pleasures can never be
brought into perfect union with those springing from ethical judgments.
Accordingly the wrong subordination takes place, or, at all events, a
contamination of the latter by the former.
311. (5) In the application of maxims more or less unified, the
volition of the moment is apt to prove stronger than the previous
resolves. Hence, man becomes only too prone to condone and fall in
with discriminations between theory and practice. The consequence is a
certain moral empiricism, which, if nothing else will do to justify its
disregard of moral law, falls back upon pious feelings. Plans of action
are formed without regard to maxims, but with the apparent compensation
of another kind of morally regular life.
Such contempt of moral judgment gains ground and spreads ruin all the
more, the farther the ethical judgments on which morality must rest
fall short of the clearness that ought to mark them, and the cruder
the pupil’s knowledge is of the antithesis between them and maxims of
utility or pleasure.
312. The natural aid to the formation and union of maxims is the
system of practical philosophy itself. But the teaching of it involves
difficulties. One of them is that such marked differences occur among
young men in the relation of systematic exposition to the grade of
culture which they have attained. For observations of this nature,
religious instruction prior to confirmation provides an early
opportunity. How such instruction is to be given, is, of course, by
no means immaterial, but, after all, the moral sentiments, which it
gathers together and strengthens, must, in substance, already exist.
Again, if the end sought were more strictly scientific form for the
moral sentiments, there would have to be ground for presuming that
the student is able to appreciate that form and has acquired skill
in the use of logical methods. The study of logic, together with
appropriate exercises, would obviously be a necessary preliminary step.
Prerequisites like these need to be borne in mind, especially in the
case of lower schools and all other institutions that do not, as a
rule, lead to the university.
313. Erroneous systems of ethics, moreover, might occasion the adoption
of very absurd measures, concerning which, on account of the importance
of the subject, at least something has to be said. Everything would be
turned upside down, if, instead of bringing together and uniting maxims
under the concept virtue, the attempt were made to deduce from some one
formula of the categorical imperative a multiplicity of maxims and from
these, rather than from the original ethical judgments, the estimates
of will values, the final undertaking being, perhaps, to divert the
will itself by such operations.
On the contrary, the will must early have been given such direction by
government and training, that its lines of tendency will of themselves
coincide as nearly as possible with the paths disclosed later, when
the pupil is being shown the way through ethical judgments. Those
beginnings of evil noted above (305) must not be permitted to appear at
all, for their consequences usually prove ineradicable. But even so, it
is not certain that a way can be hewn through the errors of others to
truer judgments. When, however, both ends have been gained, experience
and history and literature must next be called in, in order to show
clearly the confusion into which the maxims based upon pleasure and
passion plunge human beings. Not until now has the time come for more
or less systematic lectures, or for the study of suitable classical
writers. Lastly, there will still be need of frequent appeals to moral
obedience, and it will be found necessary to reinforce these appeals by
reflections of a religious character.
CHAPTER III
=The Effects of Training=
314.
A. Training prevents passions in that it:--
(1) satisfies needs,
(2) avoids opportunities for violent desires,
(3) provides employment,
(4) accustoms to order,
(5) demands reflection and responsibility.
B. Training influences the emotions in that it:--
(1) checks violent outbreaks,
(2) creates other emotions,
(3) and supplements self-control.
C. Training impresses the courtesies of life (counteracts bad
manners), consequently:--
(1) the deportment of individuals is made approximately uniform;
(2) the number of possible points of social contact becomes much
greater than where strife and contention rule;
(3) while the development of one or the other individual is
checked, the more important energies are not stifled, provided
excess of severity be avoided.
D. Training makes cautions, for:--
(1) It restricts foolhardiness,
(2) It warns against dangers,
(3) It punishes in order to make wiser,
(4) It observes and accustoms the human being to the thought of
being observed.
315. Looked at as a whole, these obvious and familiar effects of
training show at once that, generally speaking, its power to lessen
evil is very great, and that it is capable of effectively acting upon
the interrelations of various masses of ideas. But they suggest also
the presence of danger. Training, by driving evil from the surface, may
give rise to clandestine deeds.
316. When this happens, the relations between teacher and pupils grow
increasingly abnormal, since secret practices become general and
concerted, and the pupils assume a studied behavior in the presence of
the teacher.
The consequences are well known:--Inexorable severity in dealing with
concealed offences when discovered; great leniency in the case of open
transgressions; recourse to the machinery of supervision, often even to
secret watching, in order that the system of concealment may not get
the better of education.
317. It lowers the dignity of the teacher to take part habitually
in a competition between spy and concealers. He must not demand to
know everything, although he ought not to allow his confidence to be
victimized by clumsy or long-continued deception.
Such difficulties, however, only make it more intensely necessary
that the foundation of education be laid during the earliest years,
when supervision is still easy, and the heart is reached by formative
influences with greater certainty than ever afterward, and that, if
possible, families should not for any length of time lose sight of
their own members.
Ethical and moral judgments can be simulated; the finest maxims and
principles may be learned by rote; piety may be put on as a cloak.
Unmask the hypocrite, however, and turn him out, and, forthwith, he
plays his game over again elsewhere. Nothing remains but recourse to
severity which deters, and constant occupation under close supervision
in another quarter, in order that he may get away from the hiding
places of his misdeeds. Sometimes banishment is capable of bringing
about improvement.
318. The will is most directly tractable in social relations, where it
appears as common will. In infancy, the child, wholly devoted to his
mother, is manageable through her; at a later period training is surest
of success when it promotes attachments among the young and carefully
fosters the seeds of goodness. The social ideas, purified by teaching,
must gradually be added.
319. But as far back as boyhood, factions spring up and exclusive
sets are formed, facts which the teacher cannot permit to elude his
vigilance.
When a kind of authority is granted to some older and tried pupils
over those younger and less mature in judgment, the former become
responsible; but the latter are not on that account relieved of all
reflection on their own part, nor are they obliged to submit to every,
though plainly unreasonable, demand of the former.
CHAPTER IV
=Special Faults=
320. First of all it is necessary to distinguish between those faults
which the pupil commits and those which he has. Not all faults one
commits are direct manifestations of those he possesses; but those
which are committed repeatedly may grow permanent. This truth must be
made clear, and must be impressed upon the mind of the pupil to the
full extent of his powers of comprehension.
321. In the case of false steps caused from without by unnoticed
pitfalls, or made in spite of a firm resolve to the contrary, the pupil
is himself usually frightened by what he has done. If so, all depends
on the gravity of his offence as compared with the degree of his horror.
There is a host of minor faults, blunders, and even acts resulting in
damage, which tax the patience of the teacher severely; but it would
imply a mistaken conception of the difficulty of moral education, if
he should repel the frankness of his pupils by harsh treatment of such
offence. Frankness is too essential a factor to be sacrificed; once
gone it will hardly ever wholly return.
322. But the first lie uttered with evil intent, the first act of
theft, and similar actions positively detrimental to morality or
health, have to be dealt with severely, and always in such a way that
the pupil who thought he was permitting himself a slight fault, is made
to experience most thoroughly both fear and censure.
323. Serious treatment of a first offence is demanded also where pupils
try to see how far they may safely disregard authority and command.
It is important, however, not to overestimate the intention of these
attempts; important also to exhibit strength, but not anger. Yet
there are cases where the teacher must seem to act with some warmth,
because the necessary treatment, if combined with coldness, would only
intensify bitterness and cause pain an inordinate length of time. But
very likely as much feeling as is expedient will show itself upon
simply laying aside the assumed coldness.
324. On the restoration of perfect order after a period during which
government and training were lacking, a large number of faults will
disappear of themselves, and accordingly do not require to be combated
one by one. Respect for order, and incentives sufficiently strong to
regular activity, are the main things.
325. Faults which the pupil seems to possess are often only the
borrowed maxims of the society which he hopes to enter. Here it becomes
the business of education to set him right, if possible, and to
elevate his view of human relations, in order that he may disdain the
false appearances he before held in esteem.
326. Faults which an older pupil actually possesses rarely occur
singly. Moreover, they are seldom fully disclosed; their appearance is
determined by a prudent regard for circumstances. During the period of
education such faults can, indeed, be largely prevented from growing
worse, but the radical improvement of those who are secretive from
prudence is rarely to be thought of before they have become more
prudent still, too proud for concealment, and more susceptible to the
true estimate of moral values.
Where older boys and young men are found to possess unused talents, and
where instruction can be so arranged as to develop them, there is some
prospect of supplying a counterbalance to those habits which have been
contracted. But, in general, efforts looking toward a lasting reform
are successful only when made at an early age. At all events, where
there is much to amend, the feeling of dependence on strict training
must be kept alive for a long time.
327. More success is likely to attend the endeavor to correct those
faults which are not tolerated within the social class of which the
pupil regards himself a member. Two factors determine the proper mode
of procedure: the importance of making the pupil acquainted with the
worthiest side of his social group, and, on the other hand, the
unavoidable necessity of causing him to see its less noble features in
case he discovers in it free scope for his inherent faults.
328. Here the pupil’s capacity for education, as well as the limits
of that capacity, are brought home to the teacher. As boys approach
manhood, they let birth and external circumstances designate for
them that class of society to which they will belong. The class
defined, they seek to acquire its form of life, and to get into its
main current. On the way thither they accept and take along so much
of higher motives, of knowledge and insight, as, on the one hand,
instruction offers and training favors, and as, on the other hand,
the individuality of each one, which the earliest impressions have
further determined, is ready to assimilate. Those are rare exceptions
who, through the development of an absorbing interest of some kind,
in religion, or science, or art, have become less susceptible to the
attractive force of their social class. Their course has been marked
out by the instruction which induced the absorption; henceforth they
are self-actively engaged in the pursuit of whatever accords with the
end in view, and accept only a small part of what is presented to them.
329. Specific forms of a pupil’s attitude toward society, especially
the relative prominence in his mind of state or family relations, will
have to receive due consideration in marshalling motives to counteract
particular faults. Indeed, the same is true of the appeal to those
motives through which it is sought to establish a preponderance of
worthier endeavor over moral imperfection in general.
SECTION III
REMARKS ON THE ORGANIZATION OF EDUCATION
CHAPTER I
=Home Education=
330. On discovering that his own efforts encounter impediments, the
individual teacher might easily come to think that society could
do everything, if it only would, and if it possessed the necessary
insight. Further reflection, however, reveals the existence of
difficulties peculiar both to state and family.
331. The state needs soldiers, farmers, mechanics, officials, etc., and
is concerned with their efficiency. Its attitude toward a large number
of persons, whose existence as individuals has significance only in a
narrow sphere, is, in general, far more that of supervision designed to
prevent the harm they might do, than one of direct helpfulness. He who
is able to render competent service receives preferment; the weaker has
to give way to the stronger; the shortcomings of one are made good by
another.
332. The state applies its tests to what can be tested, to the outward
side of conduct and of knowledge. It does not penetrate to the inner
life. Teachers in public schools cannot penetrate much farther; they,
too, are more concerned with the sum total of knowledge imparted by
them, than with the individual and the way in which he relates his
knowledge to himself.
333. To the family, however, no stranger can make up for what one
of its members lacks; to the family the inner condition becomes so
manifest, and is often felt so keenly, that the merely external does
not satisfy. It is obvious, therefore, that moral education will always
remain essentially a home task, and that the institutions of the state
are to be resorted to for educative purposes only with a view to
supplementing the home.
But on closer inspection it is found that family life is very often
too busy, too full of care, or too noisy, for that rigor which is
undeniably required both for instruction and for morality. Luxury and
want alike harbor dangers for youth. Consequently families lean on the
state for support more than they ought.
334. Private institutions as such do not possess the same motive power
as either state or family, and are seldom able to make themselves
independent of the comparisons to which they are exposed, because of
the fact that they are expected in one case to take the place of the
state schools, and in another that of the family.
Nevertheless, sturdy minds which do not require the emulation obtaining
in schools can be advanced more rapidly, and instruction adapted
more easily to individual needs, than in public institutions. As for
training, moreover, the evils that may spring from environment can be
prevented more successfully than is possible in many families.
If the institutions in question could choose from among many teachers
and many pupils, they might, under otherwise favorable circumstances,
be able to achieve great results. But the fact of a picked set of
pupils alone shows how little the whole need of education would be
met. Besides, even those that were chosen would bring with them their
earliest impressions; they would incline toward the social conditions
for which they believe themselves to be destined; the faults of
individuality (294 _et seq._) would cling to them, unless such faults
were recognized before the selection, and were avoided by exclusion.
335. As much as possible, then, education must return to the family.
In many cases private tutors will be found to be indispensable. And of
instructors excellently equipped as to scholarship, there will be the
less lack, the better the work done by the gymnasia.
It must be noted, also, that instead of being the most difficult, the
most advanced instruction is the easiest of all, because imparted with
the least departure from the way in which it was received. People are
therefore mistaken when they assume that private tutors are capable
of furnishing an equivalent only for the lowest classes in gymnasia. A
far greater difficulty lies in the fact that even the most skilful and
active tutor cannot give as many lessons as a school provides, and that
accordingly more has to be left to the pupil’s own efforts. To be sure,
this is exactly the mode of instruction which suits the bright student
better than one that must accommodate itself to the many, and which on
that account must progress but slowly.
336. But home education presupposes that sound pedagogical views have
been arrived at in the home, and that their place is not occupied
by absurd whims or half knowledge. (Niemeyer’s famous work, “The
Principles of Education and of Instruction,” is intelligible to every
educated person, and has been widely known for many years.)
337. The necessity of sound pedagogical knowledge in the home becomes
all the more urgent where teachers, private or public, change
frequently--whereby inequalities of instruction and treatment are
introduced which need to be corrected.
CHAPTER II
=Concerning Schools=
338. The school system and its relations to local authorities, on the
one hand, and to the general government, on the other, form a vast and
difficult subject involving not merely pedagogical principles, but also
such aims as the maintenance of higher learning, the dissemination
of useful information, and the practice of indispensable arts. In
university lectures a few words on such topics suffice, since young
men who accept a school position assume, at the same time, obligations
which for a long time to come prescribe for them the path they must
follow.
339. They must, in the first place, consider the character of the
school in which they are to instruct. The school programme provides
them with information concerning the scope of the curriculum, the
established relations of the branches of instruction to one another,
and the various stages in each subject. The teachers’ conference
affords them an insight into multiplex relations to authorities,
parents, and guardians, and to the pupils, also relations leading to
coöperation, more or less perfect, on the part of the teachers. The
whole of the educational effort directed upon younger, intermediate,
and older pupils is presented in one view; it is known also where the
pupils come from, with what kind of preparation, and where as a rule
they go upon leaving the school.
340. It must obviously make a vast difference whether pupils look
forward to the university, or whether the gymnasium is filled with boys
who do not intend to pursue higher studies; whether a burgher school
sets a final examination to mark the stage of general culture to which
the school is expected to advance the pupils, or whether the pupils
enter and leave without well-defined reasons according to what seems
best to their respective families; whether an elementary school is
conducted merely as an institution preparing for gymnasia or burgher
schools, or whether its course provides for the suitable education,
during his whole boyhood, of the future artisan, etc.
The American school system possesses this great advantage over that
of Germany,--it has an educational ladder planted in every elementary
school upon which any child from any social class may mount as high as
his ambition incites, or his means and ability permit. It is the only
suitable system in a democracy, where opportunity should be open to
all. Even to obtain greater perfection than the German school system
has ever attained, a democratic nation cannot afford to impair its
present organization, in so far as it makes advancement possible to
every aspiring soul.
341. In each case the official activity entered upon must adjust itself
properly to the whole, the outlines of which are given. These determine
the proportion and the subdivision of the store of learning to be kept
ready for use, the degree of confidence to be shown to pupils as to
knowledge already acquired, and the manner in which they are to be
addressed. It is important that the teacher should appear before his
class adequately prepared and with confident self-possession, that he
should look about attentively at every one and make each pupil feel at
once that it would not be easy for him to undertake anything without
being noticed.
342. The questions to be put to the pupils need to be formulated
clearly and concisely, and they must follow each other in easy
sequence. The answers must be corrected and, when necessary, repeated,
in order that all may hear them. No pause should be unduly prolonged;
no explanation to the weaker pupil should be allowed to become
oppressively tedious to the more advanced. Those who are at work
at the moment must be assisted, but ought not to be disturbed by
much interrupting talk. The current of thought is to be invited and
accelerated in all, but not hurried, etc.
Such requirements instruction will meet with greater or less
difficulty, according as classes are small or large and the inequality
of pupils great or slight.
343. In the assigning of work the capacity of each pupil must be taken
into account as much as possible, in order that no one may surrender to
ill-humor and discouragement on account of excessive demands, nor any
one permit himself carelessly to abuse a task too easy for him.
344. Inequalities of division resulting from rearrangements of classes,
or other changes, must be pointed out to the authorities as clearly
as possible, for the purpose of urging a more even distribution and a
reduction of excessive numbers.
345. In the course of the gradual extension of such efforts many a
defect will come to light. It may be found, for instance, that the
school is not a whole, because of the lack of a competent teacher for
an important subject, or because of marked inequalities of knowledge
and culture due to the preparatory schools, or because the school (such
as those in small towns) follows the curriculum of a gymnasium while
its real aim is supposed to be that of a burgher school, etc.
346. Reports of such single defects will as a rule lead only to
correspondingly partial improvements in the system and to relief from
the most onerous perplexities, since it is seldom found possible to
organize the system of a whole province at once in such a way as to
make one harmonious whole.
347. But in case comprehensive reforms of the school system were
undertaken, it would be necessary not merely to tolerate great
multiformity, but even to create it purposely. For division of labor
is in all human performance the right path to better things; and the
preceding discussion must have shown with sufficient clearness how much
depends on a more discriminating segregation of pupils.
INDEX
A, B, C, of Perception, 253.
Absorption and Reflection, 66.
Action, clandestine, 315.
Action and Rest, 156.
Administrative System, 15.
Adolescence, and obedience, 161;
bibliography for, 231.
Æsthetics, 93.
Affection, 24.
Algebra, history of, 255.
Alertness of mind, superficial, 301.
American History _vs._ that of Greece and Rome, 241.
Analytic instruction, definition, 106;
first stages of, 111;
other forms of, 117;
with children, 214.
Ancient Languages, their use as employment, 98;
labor of mastering, 103.
Apperceiving attention, capacity for, 129.
Application, 67;
a stage of method, 70.
Approbation, 151.
Arguing with children, evils of, 164.
Arithmetic, with boys, 223–224.
Arranging of objects, 215.
Arrested development, 171.
Art of narration, 76.
Arts, 251.
Assistance, gradual withdrawal, 204.
Association, 67;
promoted by conversation, 69.
Athletics, over-valuation of, 169.
Attention, divided, 63;
forced and spontaneous, 73;
primitive and apperceiving, 74.
Authority, 53–163;
delegated, 319.
Aversion, 24.
Bad conduct of adults, 187.
Baldwin, quoted, 168, 195.
Barrenness of text-book method, 243.
Barriers to education, 5.
Bennett and Bristol, “The teaching of Latin and Greek,” 279.
Bible stories, 234.
Biblical stories _vs._ Mythology, 237.
Boundary between boyhood and adolescence, 217.
Boyhood, boundary between, and adolescence, 217.
Brown, George P., 271.
Capacity for education in children, 33.
Caprice of will, 1, 3.
Categorical imperative, not the true source of maxims, 313.
Censure, 151.
Character, development of, 64;
objective side of, 143;
subjective side of, 143;
strength of, 147.
Cheerfulness, social, 211.
Children, government of, 45–55.
Childhood, 203–216.
Child study, 33, 34.
Choice, content of, 167;
of subject-matter, 95.
Choosing, 167.
Chronology in history, 240.
Clandestine action, 315.
Classical _vs._ scientific education, 85.
Classification of interests, 83;
how to provide for, 135.
Clearness, 67.
Combats between teacher and pupils, 163.
Commands, sweeping, 48.
Committing to memory, 81.
Communion, 232.
Comparative study, 89.
Complication of ideas, 30.
Composition, true nature of, 123;
in Latin and Greek, 285.
Concealed offences, severity for, 316.
Concert work, 69.
Conduct, becoming, 137.
Conferences, teachers’, 339.
Confirmation, 232.
Conjunctions, children’s use of, 31.
Consequences, discipline of, 157.
Consistency of action, 174.
Contempt of moral judgment, 312.
Contention, why it pleases children, 183.
Continuity of education, 7.
Contrasts in pupils, 28.
Control, restlessness under, 305.
Conversation, 67.
Corporal punishment, 51.
Correlation of studies, 65;
limits of, 219.
Courage, 296.
Culture, Dogma of Formal, Hinsdale, 279.
Cynics, 83.
Cyrenaics, 83.
Dates, 247.
Delegated authority, 319.
Demonstrations, 256.
Depression and elevation, 156.
Desire and passion, 176;
bodily, 177;
gratification of, 155.
Determining influence of training, 167.
Dewey, Dr. John, 38, 63, 73, 150;
and McLellan, 253.
Differences, individual and sex, 219.
Discipline, social basis of, 55;
of consequence, 157.
Diffusion of thought, 35.
Disorder as index of failure, 55.
Disposition, cheerful, 137.
Divided attention, 63.
“Dogma of Formal Culture,” Hinsdale, 279.
Dörpfeld, 70.
Drudgery _vs._ work, 63.
Duel, 13.
Dulness, 299.
Ease of government, 54.
Easy before the difficult, 127.
Eckoff, Wm. J., 254.
Educability of pupils, 1.
Education according to age, 195–231;
first three years, 195–202;
from four to eight, 203–216;
boyhood, 217–226;
youth, 227–231.
Education as home task, 333.
Educational bookkeeping, 50.
Educative instruction, 59, 100;
value in fixing curriculum, 100.
Election, basis of, 65.
Electives, 89.
Elevation and depression, 156.
Employment, the foundation of government, 46;
for children, 56.
Endurance, 154.
English schools, effect on character of boys, 183.
Environment, influence of, 5, 55;
of pupils, 94.
Equilibrium of ideas, 75.
Equity, definition, 13.
Erratic mental movements, 302.
Estrangement and its removal, 66.
Ethical Basis of Pedagogics, 8–19.
Ethical judgment, 25.
Ethical life, range of, 292.
Ethics, the goal of education, 2.
Examination _vs._ review, 117.
Experience, limits of, 110.
Explication, 67.
Expulsion, 52.
Evil, exclusion of, 149.
Faculties, 20, 21, 22, 23;
names for, 27.
Family, its interest in the individual, 288;
its lack of vigor, 333.
Fatalism, 1, 3.
Fatigue, produced by instruction, 70.
Favoritism, 184.
Faults of children and their treatment, 294–329;
general differentiation, 294–303;
sources of moral weakness, 304–313;
effects of training upon, 314–319;
special faults, 320–329;
habitual, 326;
minor, 321;
committed _vs._ faults possessed, 320.
Faust, 83.
First offences, treatment of, 323.
Fiske, method of using text-books of history, 247.
“Five windows of the Soul,” 37.
Fixation of ideas, premature, 218.
Formal Culture, Dogma of, Hinsdale, 279.
Formal steps, 67.
Frankness, lack of, 26;
need of, 322.
Freedom and restraint, 156.
Friendliness, with children, 211.
Games, the supervision of, 178;
coöperative, 178.
General notions, definition, 30.
Generalizations, 92.
Gentle measures, 43.
Geography, 263–268;
home geography, 263;
an associating science, 264;
narration in, 265;
the old _vs._ the new, 266;
reviews in, 267.
Geographical aspects of history, 245.
Geographical _vs._ historical studies, 293.
Geometry, advantages of association, 102.
Good will, definition, 11;
in children, 206;
two aspects of, 185.
Golden rule, 148.
Goldsmith on the moody teacher, 166.
Government of children, 45–55.
Grading, 344–345.
Grammar, amount to be given, 130.
Greek and Latin, 277–285;
time for beginning, 277–278;
manner of teaching, 279.
Greek and Roman history, priority of, 246;
_vs._ American history, 246.
Greek, authors to be used, 283;
relation of, to religious impressions, 233.
Groups of ideas, 29.
Gumplowicz, 5.
Gymnastic exercises, excessive, 132.
Harris, Dr. Wm. T., 37, 143.
Harmony of insight and volition, 9.
Heavenly bodies, observation of, 259.
Herbert Spencer, 85, 157.
Herodotus, stories of, 243.
Higher education, the comparative study of branches, 89.
Higher _vs._ lower schools, 340.
High school, six-year course in, 103.
Hinsdale, “Dogma of Formal Culture,” 279.
History, 239–251;
prevailing error of young teachers of, 239;
American _vs._ Greek and Roman, 241;
mediæval, 249;
modern, 250.
Historical instruction, a branch of education, 37.
Home education, 330–337.
Home work, not a saving of labor, 123.
Homogeneity of pupils, 112.
Honor, standards of, 169;
a feeling of, 223.
_Humaniora_ _vs._ _realia_, 99.
Ideas, groups of, 29;
their source, 36;
equilibrium of, 75;
degree of strength, 102.
“Iliad” and “Odyssey,” 283.
Imaginary and complex numbers, 256.
Imagination, 22.
Incapacity, feeling of, in children, 216.
Inclinations _vs._ principles, 193.
Individuality, modification of, 41;
differences of, 54.
Individual traits, permanency of, 295.
Indolence of youth, 227.
Inequalities, correction of, 60.
Infancy, 195–202.
Inherent faults, 294.
Inner freedom, aspects of, 187.
Instability of ideas, 301.
Instruction, 56–135;
relation to government and training, 56–61;
aim of, 62–65;
conditions of many-sidedness in, 66–70;
conditions determining interest in, 71–82;
as information giving, 35;
and rudeness, 35;
in relation to pupils’ ideas and disposition, 36;
branches of, 36;
its good beginning, 105.
Insertion _vs._ continuation, 129.
Insight, definition, 8;
harmony of with volition, 9.
Intercourse, social, 78.
Interest, conditions of, 71–82;
main kinds of, 83–94;
many-sidedness of, 62;
direct and indirect, 63;
_vs._ effort, 63;
bearing of on virtue, 64;
classification of, 83;
not sole guide to selection of studies, 135;
compared with skill, 289.
Inventions, 251.
Irritability, 297.
James, quoted, 175.
Judgment, 23;
of moral quality of actions, 9;
ethical, 25.
Justice and equality with boys, 221.
Kant, 3;
his views on moral obedience, 173.
Lange’s “Apperception,” 74.
Language lessons _vs._ grammar, 271.
Languages, difficulties of, 129.
Larned, method of using text-books, 247.
Latin and Greek, 277–285;
time for beginning, 103;
composition in, 285.
Latin, increase in study of, 278;
reasons for teaching, 279;
authors to be read, 282.
Letter writing, 276.
Listlessness, 158.
Literary masterpieces, study of, 76.
Logarithms, 254.
Love, 53.
Magnitudes in mathematics, 252.
Main kinds of interest, 83–94;
materials of, 95–104;
process of, 105–130;
plan of, 131–135.
Manly games, effects of on boys, 183.
Manual training, 259;
effect of on discipline, 56.
Many-sidedness, 66–70;
of interest, 62.
Materials of instruction, 95–104.
Mathematics, 252–257;
linked to nature, 39;
correlation of, 39;
aptitude for, 252.
Mathematical teaching, order of, 255.
Maxims, origin of, 310.
McLellan and Dewey, 253.
McMurray, 74.
Measuring, 253.
Mediæval history, 249.
Memorizing, 81, 108.
Memory of will, 161.
Mental faculties, names for, 27.
Mental instability, 301.
Mephistopheles, 83.
Method, 67.
Mob spirit, the, 168.
Mobility of ideas, 35.
Modern history, 250.
Modern languages, arguments for their study, 98.
Modern methods of using text-books in history, 247.
Money, teaching the use of, 170.
Moodiness in the teacher, 166.
Moods and whims, 147.
Moral eccentricity, 307.
Moral freedom, possibility of, 173.
Moral education in strict sense, 188.
Moral judgment, contempt of, 312.
Moral revelation of the world, 167.
Morality, demand of upon youth, 231.
Mother-tongue, the, 269.
Motives of youth, 229.
Musical instruments, study of, 179.
Narration, art of, 76;
historical, 239–243.
Natorp, 143.
Natural science, 258–262.
Nature study, 258–262;
apperceptive basis for, 258;
and history, 258.
Niemeyer, 112, 113.
Obedience, 48;
to authority, 173;
promptness of, 309.
Object lessons, how to teach, 114–116.
Observation, of children, 33, 34;
exercises, 215;
which does not observe, 111.
Occupations, 47, 98;
self-chosen, 134.
“Odyssey,” 283.
Offences, concealed, 316.
One-sidedness, 86.
Order, restoration of, 324.
Organization of pupil’s ideas, 31, 32;
of education, 330–347.
Outlines of general pedagogics, 45–231.
Outside occupations, 134.
Overburdening of pupils, 97, 226.
Pampering, 45.
Passions, 180, 181;
prevention of by training, 314;
what they lead to, 308.
Paulsen, 3, 73.
“Pedagogical Seminary,” 178.
Pedagogics, ethical basis of, 8–19;
psychological basis of, 20–44;
outlines of general, 45–231.
Perez, 195.
Perfection, idea of, definition, 10;
importance of, 17;
false idea of, 18;
in children, 207–210.
_Perfice te_, 17.
Pestalozzi, 112, 114.
Physical activity, need of, 46.
Physical weakness, consideration for, 159.
Physics, elementary, 261.
Plan of instruction, 131–135.
Play, love of, 295.
Playground, need for, 132.
Plasticity, limited, 4.
Pleasure and pain, sources of, 168.
Praise and censure, 189–190.
Premature fixation of ideas, 218.
Preparation, 70.
Presentation, 70, 119.
Presentative instruction, its present function, 109.
Presentative method, meaning of, 106.
Preyer, 195.
Primacy of ideas, 73, 143;
of will, 73, 143.
Principles _vs._ inclinations, 193.
Private _vs._ public schools, 334.
Process of instruction, 105–130.
Proficiency in knowledge a late acquirement, 127.
Prudence, 145.
Psychological basis of pedagogics, 8–19.
Psychology as instrument, 2.
“Psychology of Number,” 253.
Public opinion, respect for, 306.
Public _vs._ private schools, 334.
Punishment, 51–53.
Pupil’s interest, how to measure and secure it, 101.
Quality _vs._ quantity, in securing interest, 101.
Questions, childish, 213;
character of, 342.
Quietude of mind, 176.
Rationality, growth of, 296.
Reading, 273–275.
_Realia_, advantage of, 101.
Recitations, number per week, 133.
Records, of conduct, 50.
Recreations, 132.
Reflection and absorption, 66.
Reform, school, 103.
Regulative principles, establishment of, 173.
Regulative training, 172.
Religion, 232–238.
Religious culture with boys, 222.
Religious feeling, beginnings of, 236.
Religious instruction, 94;
in England, Germany, and the United States, 181.
Religious training, need of, 19.
Reminders, 192.
Repetition, what it accomplishes, 118.
Reproduction, 109.
Rest and action, 156.
Restlessness, 297;
under control, 305.
Restraint, 55;
and freedom, 186.
Revelation of the world, moral, 167.
Reviews, conduct of, 117.
Rigidity of mind, 300.
Rosenkranz, 66.
“Rousing word,” the, 175.
Rudeness _vs._ instruction, 35.
Russell, “German Higher Schools,” 279.
Savings banks, 170.
“School and Society,” Dr. John Dewey, 38.
School hygiene, literature of, 132.
Schoolrooms, need for spacious, 132.
Schools, organization of, 338–347.
School system, 338.
Scientific instruction, a branch of education, 37.
Scientific _vs._ classical education, 85.
Seclusion _vs._ society, 168.
Secondary education in United States, its brevity, 103.
Self-activity, 71.
Self-defence, 183.
Self-determination, 26.
Sensibility, kindness of, 152.
Sensual impulses, 298.
Sequence, common view, 96;
of studies, 128.
Series of ideas, 121.
Severity for concealed offences, 316.
Simulation of ethical judgments, 317.
Sin, 338.
Six-year high school course, 103.
Skill _vs._ interest, 289.
Sluggishness of pupils, 165.
Smith, David Eugene, 255, 256.
Social cheerfulness, 211.
Social circle, relation of child to, 208.
Social ends of training, 160.
Social environment of pupils, 94.
Social faults, correction for, 327.
Social intercourse, 78.
Social pressure in government, 161.
Social relations the source of will, 318.
Social, the, in conduct, 62.
Society _vs._ seclusion, 168.
Source of ideas, 36.
Special applications of pedagogics, 232–293;
religion, 232–238;
history, 239–251;
mathematics and natural science, 252–262;
geography, 263–268;
the mother-tongue, 269–275.
Speer, 253.
Spencer, Herbert, 85, 157.
Spinoza, 3.
Spy, the teacher as, 317.
Standards of honor, 169.
State, its attitude toward the individual, 331.
Strife, 182.
Structure of groups of ideas, 31.
Studies, social function of, 62;
as social instruments, 64;
for boys, 225.
Study of literary masterpieces, 76.
Style of speaking, 108.
Subjects to be taught, 100.
Supervision, 48;
strictness of, 49, 50.
Sweetmeats, educational, 99.
Syntax, Latin, 284.
Synthetic instruction, definition, 106;
nature and course of, 125–126.
System, 67;
promoted by connected discourse, 69;
of laws and rewards, 14;
of civilization, 16.
Tardiness, 161.
Teacher as spy, 317.
Teachers’ conferences, 339.
Temperaments, 295.
Temper, violent, 298.
Tests by the state, 332.
Text-book methods, barrenness of, 243.
Text-book _vs._ oral presentation of history, 239.
Themes for composition, 124.
The mob spirit, 168.
The mother-tongue, 269–276.
Thoughtlessness of pupils, 164.
Time, amount to be given to instruction, 132.
Training, 136–194;
definition, 136, 141;
relation to government and instruction, 136–140;
aim of, 141–142;
differentiation of character, 143–147;
differentiation in morality, 148–150;
helps in, 151–159;
general method, 160–194;
blended with government, 140;
function of, 151.
Transfer of pupils, 52.
Translation, difficulty of, for German children, 103.
Trigonometry, 254.
Tutors, place of, 335.
Unification, 65, 66.
Use of things, how taught, 114.
Vendettas, 13.
Violin, value of use of, 179.
Virility in the school, 183.
Virtue, definition, 8, 62;
unevenness of development, 8;
its relation to interest, 64.
_Viva vox docet_, 107.
Volition, harmony with insight, 9;
of the moment, 311.
Wiget, 70.
Will, memory of, 161.
Women teachers and fighting pupils, 183.
Work _vs._ drudgery, 63.
Written exercises in the mother-tongue, 276.
Written work, tediousness of, 59;
correction of, 123.
Wundt, 74.
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[Transcriber’s Notes:
Descriptions of the illustrations were added by the transcriber.
All punctuation errors were corrected.
Inconsistent hyphenation was retained.
In Contents, the following changes were done to match chapter titles
in the text:
“of” after “Conditions” was deleted (The Conditions Determining
Interest).
“Material” was changed from “Materials” (The Material of
Instruction).
“The” was inserted before “Relation” (The Relation of Training).
In paragraph 36, “one-sidedness” was changed from “one-sideness”
(one-sidedness of instruction).
In paragraph 38, “counteracting” was changed from “counter: acting”
(counteracting selfishness).
In paragraph 70, alternate spelling of annotator’s surname as
“DeGarmo” was retained.
In the Index,
“as” was changed from “an” (Disorder as index of failure).
“Humaniora” was changed from “Humanoria” (_Humaniora_ _vs._
_realia_).]
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