NATURE IN EDUCATION--AGRICULTURAL LABOUR: CULTURE OF PLANTS AND ANIMALS
Itard, in a remarkable pedagogical treatise: "_Des premiers
developpements du jeune sauvage de l'Aveyron_," expounds in detail the
drama of a curious, gigantic education which attempted to overcome the
psychical darkness of an idiot and at the same time to snatch a man from
primitive nature.
The savage of the Aveyron was a child who had grown up in the natural
state: criminally abandoned in a forest where his assassins thought they
had killed him, he was cured by natural means, and had survived for many
years free and naked in the wilderness, until, captured by hunters, he
entered into the civilised life of Paris, showing by the scars with
which his miserable body was furrowed the story of the struggles with
wild beasts, and of lacerations caused by falling from heights.
The child was, and always remained, mute; his mentality, diagnosed by
Pinel as idiotic, remained forever almost inaccessible to intellectual
education.
To this child are due the first steps of positive pedagogy. Itard, a
physician of deaf-mutes and a student of philosophy, undertook his
education with methods which he had already partially tried for treating
defective hearing--believing at the beginning that the savage showed
characteristics of inferiority, not because he was a degraded organism,
but for want of education. He was a follower of the principles of
Helvetius: "Man is nothing without the work of man"; that is, he
believed in the omnipotence of education, and was opposed to the
pedagogical principle which Rousseau had promulgated before the
Revolution: "_Tout est bien sortant des mains de l'Auteur des choses,
tout degenere dans les mains de l'homme_,"--that is, the work of
education is deleterious and spoils the man.
The savage, according to the erroneous first impression of Itard,
demonstrated experimentally by his characteristics the truth of the
former assertion. When, however, he perceived, with the help of Pinel,
that he had to do with an idiot, his philosophical theories gave place
to the most admirable, tentative, experimental pedagogy.
Itard divides the education of the savage into two parts. In the first,
he endeavours to lead the child from natural life to social life; and in
the second, he attempts the intellectual education of the idiot. The
child in his life of frightful abandonment had found one happiness; he
had, so to speak, immersed himself in, and unified himself with, nature,
taking delight in it--rains, snow, tempests, boundless space, had been
his sources of entertainment, his companions, his love. Civil life is a
renunciation of all this: but it is an acquisition beneficent to human
progress. In Itard's pages we find vividly described the moral work
which led the savage to civilisation, multiplying the needs of the child
and surrounding him with loving care. Here is a sample of the admirably
patient work of Itard as _observer of the spontaneous expressions_ of
his pupil: it can most truly give teachers, who are to prepare for the
experimental method, an idea of the patience and the self-abnegation
necessary in dealing with a phenomenon which is to be observed:
"When, for example, he was observed within his room, he was seen to be
lounging with oppressive monotony, continually directing his eyes toward
the window, with his gaze wandering in the void. If on such occasions a
sudden storm blew up, if the sun, hidden behind the clouds, peeped out
of a sudden, lighting the atmosphere brilliantly, there were loud bursts
of laughter and almost convulsive joy. Sometimes, instead of these
expressions of joy, there was a sort of frenzied rage: he would twist
his arms, put his clenched fists upon his eyes, gnashing his teeth and
becoming dangerous to those about him.
"One morning, when the snow fell abundantly while he was still in bed,
he uttered a cry of joy upon awaking, leaped from his bed, ran to the
window and then to the door; went and came impatiently from one to the
other; then ran out undressed as he was into the garden. There, giving
vent to his joy with the shrillest of cries, he ran, rolled in the snow,
gathered it up in handfuls, and swallowed it with incredible avidity.
"But his sensations at sight of the great spectacles of nature did not
always manifest themselves in such a vivid and noisy manner. It is
worthy of note that in certain cases they were expressed by a quiet
regret and melancholy. Thus, it was when the rigour of the weather drove
everybody from the garden that the savage of the Aveyron chose to go
there. He would walk around it several times and finally sit down upon
the edge of the fountain.
"I have often stopped for _whole hours_, and with indescribable
pleasure, to watch him as he sat thus--to see how his face, inexpressive
or contracted by grimaces, gradually assumed an expression of sadness,
and of melancholy reminiscence, while his eyes were fixed upon the
surface of the water into which from time to time he would throw a few
dead leaves.
"If when there was a full moon, a sheaf of mild beams penetrated into
his room, he rarely failed to wake and to take his place at the window.
He would remain there _for a large part of the night_, erect,
motionless, with his head thrust forward, his eyes fixed on the
countryside lighted by the moon, plunged in a sort of contemplative
ecstasy, the immobility and silence of which were only interrupted at
long intervals by a breath as deep as a sigh, which died away in a
plaintive sound of lamentation."
Elsewhere, Itard relates that the boy did not know the _walking gait_
which we use in civilised life, but only the _running gait_, and tells
how he, Itard, ran after him at the beginning, when he took him out into
the streets of Paris, rather than violently check the boy's running.
The gradual and gentle leading of the savage through all the
manifestations of social life, the early adaptation of the teacher to
the pupil rather than of the pupil to the teacher, the successive
attraction to a new life which was to win over the child by its charms,
and not be imposed upon him violently so that the pupil should feel it
as a burden and a torture, are as many precious educative expressions
which may be generalised and applied to the education of children.
I believe that there exists no document which offers so poignant and so
eloquent a contrast between the life of nature and the life of society,
and which so graphically shows that society is made up solely of
renunciations and restraints. Let it suffice to recall the run, checked
to a walk, and the loud-voiced cry, checked to the modulations of the
ordinary speaking voice.
And, yet, without any violence, leaving to social life the task of
charming the child little by little, Itard's education triumphs. It is
true that civilised life is made by renunciation of the life of nature;
it is almost the snatching of a man from the lap of earth; it is like
snatching the new-born child from its mother's breast; but it is also a
new life.
In Itard's pages we see the final triumph of the love of man over the
love of nature: the savage of the Aveyron ends by _feeling_ and
preferring the affection of Itard, the caresses, the tears shed over
him, to the joy of immersing himself voluptuously in the snow, and of
contemplating the infinite expanse of the sky on a starry night: one day
after an attempted escape into the country, he returns of his own
accord, humble and repentant, to find his good soup and his warm bed.
It is true that man has created enjoyments in social life and has
brought about a vigorous human love in community life. But nevertheless
he still belongs to nature, and, especially when he is a child, he must
needs draw from it the forces necessary to the development of the body
and of the spirit. We have intimate communications with nature which
have an influence, even a material influence, on the growth of the body.
(For example, a physiologist, isolating young guinea pigs from
terrestrial magnetism by means of insulators, found that they grew up
with rickets.)
In the education of little children Itard's educative drama is repeated:
we must prepare man, who is one among the living creatures and therefore
belongs to nature, for social life, because social life being his own
peculiar work, must also correspond to the manifestation of his natural
activity.
But the advantages which we prepare for him in this social life, in a
great measure escape the little child, who at the beginning of his life
is a predominantly vegetative creature.
To soften this transition in education, by giving a large part of the
educative work to nature itself, is as necessary as it is not to snatch
the little child suddenly and violently from its mother and to take him
to school; and precisely this is done in the "Children's Houses," which
are situated within the tenements where the parents live, where the cry
of the child reaches the mother and the mother's voice answers it.
Nowadays, under the form of child hygiene, this part of education is
much cultivated: children are allowed to grow up in the open air, in the
public gardens, or are left for many hours half naked on the seashore,
exposed to the rays of the sun. It has been understood, through the
diffusion of marine and Apennine colonies, that the best means of
invigorating the child is to immerse him in nature.
Short and comfortable clothing for children, sandals for the feet,
nudity of the lower extremities, are so many liberations from the
oppressive shackles of civilisation.
It is an obvious principle that we should sacrifice to natural liberties
in education only as much as is _necessary_ for the acquisition of the
greater pleasures which are offered by civilisation without _useless
sacrifices_.
But in all this progress of modern child education, we have not freed
ourselves from the prejudice which denies children spiritual expression
and spiritual needs, and makes us consider them only as amiable
vegetating bodies to be cared for, kissed, and set in motion. The
_education_ which a good mother or a good modern teacher gives to-day
to the child who, for example, is running about in a flower garden is
the counsel _not to touch the flowers_, not to tread on the grass; as if
it were sufficient for the child to satisfy the physiological needs of
his body by moving his legs and breathing fresh air.
But if for the physical life it is necessary to have the child exposed
to the vivifying forces of nature, it is also necessary for his
psychical life to place the soul of the child in contact with creation,
in order that he may lay up for himself treasure from the directly
educating forces of living nature. The method for arriving at this end
is to set the child at agricultural labour, guiding him to the
cultivation of plants and animals, and so to the intelligent
contemplation of nature.
Already, in England Mrs. Latter has devised the _basis_ for a method of
child education by means of _gardening_ and _horticulture_. She sees in
the contemplation of developing life the bases of religion, since the
soul of the child may go from the creature to the Creator. She sees in
it also the point of departure for intellectual education, which she
limits to drawing from life as a step toward art, to the ideas about
plants, insects, and seasons, which spring from agriculture, and to the
first notions of household life, which spring from the cultivation and
the culinary preparation of certain alimentary products that children
later serve upon the table, providing afterwards also for the washing of
the utensils and tableware.
Mrs. Latter's conception is too one-sided; but her institutions, which
continue to spread in England, undoubtedly complete the natural
_education_ which, up to this time limited to the physical side, has
already been so efficacious in invigorating the bodies of English
children. Moreover, her experience offers a positive corroboration of
the practicability of agricultural teaching in the case of little
children.
As for deficients, I have seen agriculture applied on a large scale to
their education at Paris by the means which the kindly spirit of
Baccelli tried to introduce into the elementary schools when he
attempted to institute the "little educative gardens." In every _little
garden_ are sown different agricultural products, demonstrating
practically the proper method and the proper time for seeding and for
crop gathering, and the period of development of the various products;
the manner of preparing the soil, of enriching it with natural or
chemical manures, etc. The same is done for ornamental plants and for
gardening, which is the work yielding the best income for deficients,
when they are of an age to practise a profession.
But this side of education, though it contains, in the first place, an
objective method of intellectual culture, and, in addition, a
professional preparation, is not, in my opinion, to be taken into
serious consideration for child education. The educational conception of
this age must be solely that of aiding the psycho-physical development
of the individual; and, this being the case, agriculture and animal
culture contain in themselves precious means of moral education which
can be analysed far more than is done by Mrs. Latter, who sees in them
essentially a method of conducting the child's soul to religious
feeling. Indeed, in this method, which is a progressive ascent, several
gradations can be distinguished: I mention here the principal ones:
_First._ _The child is initiated into observation_ of the phenomena of
life. He stands with respect to the plants and animals in relations
analogous to those in which the _observing_ teacher stands towards him.
Little by little, as interest and observation grow, his zealous care
for the living creatures grows also, and in this way, the child can
logically be brought to appreciate the care which the mother and the
teacher take of him.
_Second._ The child is initiated into _foresight_ by way of
_auto-education_; when he knows that the life of the plants that have
been sown depends upon his care in watering them, and that of the
animals, upon his diligence in feeding them, without which the little
plant dries up and the animals suffer hunger, the child becomes
vigilant, as one who is beginning to feel a mission in life. Moreover, a
voice quite different from that of his mother and his teacher calling
him to his duties, is speaking here, exhorting him never to forget the
task he has undertaken. It is the plaintive voice of the needy life
which lives by his care. Between the child and the living creatures
which he cultivates there is born a mysterious correspondence which
induces the child to fulfil certain determinate acts without the
intervention of the teacher, that is, leads him to an _auto-education_.
The rewards which the child reaps also remain between him and nature:
one fine day after long patient care in carrying food and straw to the
brooding pigeons, behold the little ones! behold a number of chickens
peeping about the setting hen which yesterday sat motionless in her
brooding place! behold one day the tender little rabbits in the hutch
where formerly dwelt in solitude the pair of big rabbits to which he had
not a few times lovingly carried the green vegetables left over in his
mother's kitchen!
I have not yet been able to institute in Rome the breeding of animals,
but in the "Children's Houses" at Milan there are several animals, among
them a pair of pretty little white American fowl that live in a
diminutive and elegant _chalet_, similar in construction to a Chinese
pagoda: in front of it, a little piece of ground inclosed by a rampart
is reserved for the pair. The little door of the _chalet_ is locked at
evening, and the children take care of it in turn. With what delight
they go in the morning to unlock the door, to fetch water and straw, and
with what care they watch during the day, and at evening lock the door
after having made sure that the fowl lack nothing! The teacher informs
me that among all the educative exercises this is the most welcome, and
seems also the most important of all. Many a time when the children are
tranquilly occupied in tasks, each at the work he prefers, one, two, or
three, get up silently, and go out to cast a glance at the animals to
see if they need care. Often it happens that a child absents himself for
a long time and the teacher surprises him watching enchantedly the fish
gliding ruddy and resplendent in the sunlight in the waters of the
fountain.
One day I received from the teacher in Milan a letter in which she spoke
to me with great enthusiasm of a truly wonderful piece of news. The
little pigeons were hatched. For the children it was a great festival.
They felt themselves to some extent the parents of these little ones,
and no artificial reward which had flattered their vanity would ever
have provoked such a truly fine emotion. Not less great are the joys
which vegetable nature provides. In one of the "Children's Houses" at
Rome, where there was no soil that could be cultivated, there have been
arranged, through the efforts of Signora Talamo, flower-pots all around
the large terrace, and climbing plants near the walls. The children
never forget to water the plants with their little watering-pots.
One day I found them seated on the ground, all in a circle, around a
splendid red rose which had bloomed in the night; silent and calm,
literally immersed in mute contemplation.
_Third._ The children are initiated into the virtue of _patience and
into confident expectation_, which is a form of faith and of philosophy
of life.
When the children put a seed into the ground, and wait until it
fructifies, and see the first appearance of the shapeless plant, and
wait for the growth and the transformations into flower and fruit, and
see how some plants sprout sooner and some later, and how the deciduous
plants have a rapid life, and the fruit-trees a slower growth, they end
by acquiring a peaceful equilibrium of conscience, and absorb the first
germs of that wisdom which so characterised the tillers of the soil in
the time when they still kept their primitive simplicity.
_Fourth._ _The children are inspired with a feeling for nature_, which
is maintained by the marvels of creation--that creation which _rewards_
with a generosity not measured by the labour of those who help it to
evolve the life of its creatures.
Even while at the work, a sort of correspondence arises between the
child's soul and the lives which are developed under his care. The child
loves naturally the manifestations of life: Mrs. Latter tells us how
easily little ones are interested even in earthworms and in the movement
of the larvae of insects in manure, without feeling that horror which we,
who have grown up isolated from nature, experience towards certain
animals. It is well then, to develop this feeling of trust and
confidence in living creatures, which is, moreover, a form of love, and
of union with the universe.
But what most develops a feeling of nature is the _cultivation_ of the
_living_ things, because they by their natural development give back far
more than they receive, and show something like infinity in their beauty
and variety. When the child has cultivated the iris or the pansy, the
rose or the hyacinth, has placed in the soil a seed or a bulb and
periodically watered it, or has planted a fruit-bearing shrub, and the
blossomed flower and the ripened fruit offer themselves as a _generous
gift_ of nature, a rich reward for a small effort; it seems almost as if
nature were answering with her gifts to the feeling of desire, to the
vigilant love of the cultivator, rather than striking a balance with his
material efforts.
It will be quite different when the child has to gather the _material_
fruits of his labour: motionless, uniform objects, which are consumed
and dispersed rather than increased and multiplied.
The difference between the products of nature and those of industry,
between divine products and human products--it is this that must be born
spontaneously in the child's conscience, like the determination of a
fact.
But at the same time, as the plant must give its fruit, so man must give
his labour.
_Fifth._ _The child follows the natural way of development of the human
race._ In short, such education makes the evolution of the individual
harmonise with that of humanity. Man passed from the natural to the
artificial state through agriculture: when he discovered the secret of
intensifying the production of the soil, he obtained the reward of
civilisation.
The same path must be traversed by the child who is destined to become a
civilised man.
The action of educative nature so understood is very practically
accessible. Because, even if the vast stretch of ground and the large
courtyard necessary for physical education are lacking, it will always
be possible to find a few square yards of land that may be cultivated,
or a little place where pigeons can make their nest, things sufficient
for spiritual education. Even a pot of flowers at the window can, if
necessary, fulfil the purpose.
In the first "Children's House" in Rome we have a vast courtyard,
cultivated as a garden, where the children are free to run in the open
air--and, besides, a long stretch of ground, which is planted on one
side with trees, has a branching path in the middle, and on the opposite
side, has broken ground for the cultivation of plants. This last, we
have divided into so many portions, reserving one for each child.
While the smaller children run freely up and down the paths, or rest in
the shade of the trees, the _possessors of the earth_ (children from
four years of age up), are sowing, or hoeing, watering or examining, the
surface of the soil watching for the sprouting of plants. It is
interesting to note the following fact: the little reservations of the
children are placed along the wall of the tenement, in a spot formerly
neglected because it leads to a blind road; the inhabitants of the
house, therefore, had the habit of throwing from those windows every
kind of offal, and at the beginning our garden was thus contaminated.
But, little by little, without any exhortation on our part, solely
through the respect born in the people's mind for the children's labour,
nothing more fell from the windows, except the loving glances and smiles
of the mothers upon the soil which was the beloved possession of their
little children.