=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.