INTELLECTUAL EDUCATION
"... To lead the child from the education of the senses to ideas."
_Edward Seguin._
The sense exercises constitute a species of auto-education, which, if
these exercises be many times repeated, leads to a perfecting of the
child's psychosensory processes. The directress must intervene to lead
the child from sensations to ideas--from the concrete to the abstract,
and to the association of ideas. For this, she should use a method
tending to isolate the inner attention of the child and to fix it upon
the perceptions--as in the first lessons his objective attention was
fixed, through isolation, upon single stimuli.
The teacher, in other words, when she gives a lesson must seek to limit
the field of the child's consciousness to the object of the lesson, as,
for example, during sense education she isolated the sense which she
wished the child to exercise.
For this, knowledge of a special technique is necessary. The educator
must, "_to the greatest possible extent, limit his intervention; yet he
must not allow the child to weary himself in an undue effort of
auto-education_."
It is here, that the factor of individual limitation and differing
degrees of perception are most keenly felt in the teacher. In other
words, in the quality of this intervention lies the art which makes up
the individuality of the teacher.
A definite and undoubted part of the teacher's work is that of teaching
an exact nomenclature.
She should, in most cases, pronounce the necessary names and adjectives
without adding anything further. These words she should pronounce
distinctly, and in a clear strong voice, so that the _various sounds_
composing the word may be distinctly and plainly perceived by the child.
So, for example, touching the smooth and rough cards in the first
tactile exercise, she should say, "This is smooth. This is rough,"
repeating the words with varying modulations of the voice, always
letting the tones be clear and the enunciation very distinct. "Smooth,
smooth, smooth. Rough, rough, rough."
In the same way, when treating of the sensations of heat and cold, she
must say, "This is cold." "This is hot." "This is ice-cold." "This is
tepid." She may then begin to use the generic terms, "heat," "more
heat," "less heat," etc.
_First._ "The lessons in nomenclature must consist simply in provoking
the association of the name with the object, or with the abstract idea
which the name represents." Thus the _object_ and the _name_ must be
united when they are received by the child's mind, and this makes it
most necessary that no other word besides the name be spoken.
_Second._ The teacher must always _test_ whether or not her lesson has
attained the end she had in view, and her tests must be made to come
within the restricted field of consciousness, provoked by the lesson on
nomenclature.
The first test will be to find whether the name is still associated in
the child's mind with the object. She must allow the necessary time to
elapse, letting a short period of silence intervene between the lesson
and the test. Then she may ask the child, pronouncing slowly and very
clearly the name or the adjective she has taught: "Which is _smooth_?
Which is _rough_?"
The child will point to the object with his finger, and the teacher will
know that he has made the desired association. But if he has not done
this, that is, if he makes a mistake, _she must not correct him_, but
must suspend her lesson, to take it up again another day. Indeed, why
correct him? If the child has not succeeded in associating the name with
the object, the only way in which to succeed would be to _repeat_ both
the action of the sense stimuli and the _name_; in other words, to
repeat the lesson. But when the child has failed, we should know that he
was not at that instant ready for the psychic association which we
wished to provoke in him, and we must therefore choose another moment.
If we should say, in correcting the child, "No, you have made a
mistake," all these words, which, being in the form of a reproof, would
strike him more forcibly than others (such as smooth or rough), would
remain in the mind of the child, retarding the learning of the names. On
the contrary, the _silence_ which follows the error leaves the field of
consciousness clear, and the next lesson may successfully follow the
first. In fact, by revealing the error we may lead the child to make an
undue _effort_ to remember, or we may discourage him, and it is our duty
to avoid as much as possible all unnatural effort and all depression.
_Third._ If the child has not committed any error, the teacher may
provoke the _motor activity_ corresponding to the idea of the object:
that is, to the _pronunciation of the name_. She may ask him, "What is
this?" and the child should respond, "Smooth." The teacher may then
interrupt, teaching him how to pronounce the word correctly and
distinctly, first, drawing a deep breath and, then, saying in a rather
loud voice, "Smooth." When he does this the teacher may note his
particular speech defect, or the special form of baby talk to which he
may be addicted.
In regard to the _generalisation_ of the ideas received, and by that I
mean the application of these ideas to his environment, I do not advise
any lessons of this sort for a certain length of time, even for a number
of months. There will be children who, after having touched a few times
the stuffs, or merely the smooth and rough cards, _will quite
spontaneously touch the various surfaces about them_, repeating "Smooth!
Rough! It is velvet! etc." In dealing with normal children, we must
_await_ this spontaneous investigation of the surroundings, or, as I
like to call it, this _voluntary explosion_ of the exploring spirit. In
such cases, the children experience a joy at each _fresh discovery_.
They are conscious of a sense of dignity and satisfaction which
encourages them to seek for new sensations from their environment and to
make themselves spontaneous _observers_.
The teacher should _watch_ with the most solicitous care to see when and
how the child arrives at this generalisation of ideas. For example, one
of our little four-year-olds while running about in the court one day
suddenly stood still and cried out, "Oh! the sky is blue!" and stood for
some time looking up into the blue expanse of the sky.
One day, when I entered one of the "Children's Houses," five or six
little ones gathered quietly about me and began caressing, lightly, my
hands, and my clothing, saying, "It is smooth." "It is velvet." "This is
rough." A number of others came near and began with serious and intent
faces to repeat the same words, touching me as they did so. The
directress wished to interfere to release me, but I signed to her to be
quiet, and I myself did not move, but remained silent, admiring this
spontaneous intellectual activity of my little ones. The greatest
triumph of our educational method should always be this: _to bring about
the spontaneous progress of the child_.
One day, a little boy, following one of our exercises in design, had
chosen to fill in with coloured pencils the outline of a tree. To colour
the trunk he laid hold upon a red crayon. The teacher wished to
interfere, saying, "Do you think trees have red trunks?" I held her back
and allowed the child to colour the tree red. This design was precious
to us; it showed that the child was not yet an observer of his
surroundings. _My way of treating this was to encourage the child to
make use of the games for the chromatic sense._ He went daily into the
garden with the other children, and could at any time see the tree
trunks. When the sense exercises should have succeeded in attracting the
child's spontaneous attention to colours about him, then, in some _happy
moment_ he would become aware that the tree trunks were not red, just as
the other child during his play had become conscious of the fact that
the sky was blue. In fact, the teacher continued to give the child
outlines of trees to fill in. He one day chose a brown pencil with which
to colour the trunk, and made the branches and leaves green. Later, he
made the branches brown, also, using green only for the leaves.
Thus we have _the test_ of the child's intellectual progress. We can not
create observers by saying, "_observe_," but by giving them the power
and the means for this observation, and these means are procured through
education of the senses. Once we have _aroused_ such activity,
auto-education is assured, for refined well-trained senses lead us to
a closer observation of the environment, and this, with its infinite
variety, attracts the attention and continues the psychosensory
education.
If, on the other hand, in this matter of sense education we single out
definite concepts of the quality of certain objects, these very objects
become associated with, or a part of, the training, which is in this way
limited to those concepts taken and recorded. So the sense training
remains unfruitful. When, for example, a teacher has given in the old
way a lesson on the names of the colours, she has imparted an idea
concerning that particular _quality_, but she has not educated the
chromatic sense. The child will know these colours in a superficial way,
forgetting them from time to time; and at best his appreciation of them
will lie within the limits prescribed by the teacher. When, therefore,
the teacher of the old methods shall have provoked the generalisation of
the idea, saying, for example, "What is the colour of this flower!" "of
this ribbon?" the attention of the child will in all probability remain
torpidly fixed upon the examples suggested by her.
We may liken the child to a clock, and may say that with the old-time
way it is very much as if we were to hold the wheels of the clock quiet
and move the hands about the clock face with our fingers. The hands will
continue to circle the dial just so long as we apply, through our
fingers, the necessary motor force. Even so is it with that sort of
culture which is limited to the work which the teacher does with the
child. The new method, instead, may be compared to the process of
winding, which sets the entire mechanism in motion.
This motion is in direct relation with the machine, and not with the
work of winding. So the spontaneous psychic development of the child
continues indefinitely and is in direct relation to the psychic
potentiality of the child himself, and not with the work of the teacher.
The movement, or the _spontaneous psychic activity_ starts in our case
from the education of the senses and is maintained by the observing
intelligence. Thus, for example, the hunting dog receives his ability,
not from the education given by his master, but from the _special
acuteness_ of his senses; and as soon as this physiological quality is
applied to the right environment, the _exercise of hunting_, the
increasing refinement of the sense perceptions, gives the dog the
pleasure and then the passion for the chase. The same is true of the
pianist who, refining at the same time his musical sense and the agility
of his hand, comes to love more and more to draw new harmonies from the
instrument. Thia double perfection proceeds until at last the pianist is
launched upon a course which will be limited only by the personality
which lies within him. Now a student of physics may know all the laws of
harmony which form a part of his scientific culture, and yet he may not
know how to follow a most simple musical composition. His culture,
however vast, will be bound by the definite limits of his science. Our
educational aim with very young children must be to _aid the spontaneous
development of the mental, spiritual, and physical personality_, and not
to make of the child a cultured individual in the commonly accepted
sense of the term. So, after we have offered to the child such didactic
material as is adapted to provoke the development of his senses, we must
wait until the activity known as observation develops. And herein lies
the _art of the educator_; in knowing how to measure the action by which
we help the young child's personality to develop. To one whose attitude
is right, little children soon reveal _profound individual differences_
which call for very different kinds of help from the teacher. Some of
them require almost no intervention on her part, while others demand
actual _teaching_. It is necessary, therefore, that the teaching shall
be rigorously guided by the principle of limiting to the greatest
possible point the active intervention of the educator.
Here are a number of games and problems which we have used effectively
in trying to follow this principle.
GAMES OF THE BLIND
The Games of the Blind are used for the most part as exercises in
general sensibility as follows:
_The Stuffs._ We have in our didactic material a pretty little chest
composed of drawers within which are arranged rectangular pieces of
stuff in great variety. There are velvet, satin, silk, cotton, linen,
etc. We have the child touch each of these pieces, teaching the
appropriate nomenclature and adding something regarding the quality, as
coarse, fine, soft. Then, we call the child and seat him at one of the
tables where he can be seen by his companions, blindfold him, and offer
him the stuffs one by one. He touches them, smooths them, crushes them
between his fingers and decides, "It is velvet,--It is fine linen,--It
is rough cloth," etc. This exercise provokes general interest. When we
offer the child some unexpected foreign object, as, for example, a sheet
of paper, a veil, the little assembly trembles as it awaits his
response.
_Weight._ We place the child in the same position, call his attention
to the tablets used for the education of the sense of weight, have him
notice again the already well-known differences of weight, and then tell
him to put all the dark tablets, which are the heavier ones, at the
right, and all the light ones, which are the lighter, to the left. We
then blindfold him and he proceeds to the game, taking each time two
tablets. Sometimes he takes two of the same colour, sometimes two of
different colours, but in a position opposite to that in which he must
arrange them on his desk. These exercises are most exciting; when, for
example, the child has in his hands two of the dark tablets and changes
them from one hand to the other uncertain, and finally places them
together on the right, the children watch in a state of intense
eagerness, and a great sigh often expresses their final relief. The
shouts of the audience when the entire game is followed without an
error, gives the impression that their little friend _sees with his
hands_ the colours of the tablets.
_Dimension and Form._ We use games similar to the preceding one, having
the child distinguish between different coins, the cubes and bricks of
Froebel, and dry seeds, such as beans and peas. But such games never
awaken the intense interest aroused by the preceding ones. They are,
however, useful and serve to associate with the various objects those
qualities peculiar to them, and also to fix the nomenclature.
APPLICATION OF THE EDUCATION OF THE VISUAL SENSE TO THE OBSERVATION OF
THE ENVIRONMENT
_Nomenclature._ This is one of the most important phases of education.
Indeed, nomenclature prepares for an _exactness_ in the use of language
which is not always met with in our schools. Many children, for
example, use interchangeably the words thick and big, long and high.
With the methods already described, the teacher may easily establish, by
means of the didactic material, ideas which are very exact and clear,
and may associate the proper word with these ideas.
_Method of Using the Didactic Material_
_Dimensions._ The directress, after the child has played for a long time
with the three sets of solid insets and has acquired a security in the
performance of the exercise, takes out all the cylinders of equal height
and places them in a horizontal position on the table, one beside the
other. Then she selects the two extremes, saying, "This is the
_thickest_--This is the _thinnest_." She places them side by side so
that the comparison may be more marked, and then taking them by the
little button, she compares the bases, calling attention to the great
difference. She then places them again beside each other in a vertical
position in order to show that they are equal in height, and repeats
several times, "thick--thin." Having done this, she should follow it
with the test, asking, "Give me the thickest--Give me the thinnest," and
finally she should proceed to the test of nomenclature, asking, "What is
this?" In the lessons which follow this, the directress may take away
the two extreme pieces and may repeat the lesson with the two pieces
remaining at the extremities, and so on until she has used all the
pieces. She may then take these up at random, saying, "Give me one a
little thicker than this one," or "Give me one a little thinner than
this one." With the second set of solid insets she proceeds in the same
way. Here she stands the pieces upright, as each one has a base
sufficiently broad to maintain it in this position, saying, "This is the
highest" and "This is the lowest." Then placing the two extreme pieces
side by side she may take them out of the line and compare the bases,
showing that they are equal. From the extremes she may proceed as
before, selecting each time the two remaining pieces most strongly
contrasted.
With the third solid inset, the directress, when she has arranged the
pieces in gradation, calls the child's attention to the first one,
saying, "This is the largest," and to the last one, saying, "This is the
smallest." Then she places them side by side and observes how they
differ both in height and in base. She then proceeds in the same way as
in the other two exercises.
Similar lessons may be given with the series of graduated prisms, of
rods, and of cubes. The prisms are _thick_ and _thin_ and of equal
_length_. The rods are _long_ and _short_ and of equal _thickness_. The
cubes are _big_ and _little_ and differ in size and in height.
The application of these ideas to environment will come most easily when
we measure the children with the anthropometer. They will begin among
themselves to make comparisons, saying, "I am taller,--you are thicker."
These comparisons are also made when the children hold out their little
hands to show that they are clean, and the directress stretches hers out
also, to show that she, too, has clean hands. Often the contrast between
the dimensions of the hands calls forth laughter. The children make a
perfect game of measuring themselves. They stand side by side; they look
at each other; they decide. Often they place themselves beside grown
persons, and observe with curiosity and interest the great difference in
height.
_Form._ When the child shows that he can with security distinguish
between the forms of the plane geometric insets, the directress may
begin the lessons in nomenclature. She should begin with two
strongly-contrasted forms, as the square and the circle, and should
follow the usual method, using the three periods of Seguin. We do not
teach all the names relative to the geometric figures, giving only those
of the most familiar forms, such as square, circle, rectangle, triangle,
oval. We now call attention to the fact that there are _rectangles which
are narrow and long_, and others which are _broad and short_, while the
_squares_ are equal on all sides and can be only big and little. These
things are most easily shown with the insets, for, though we turn the
square about, it still enters its frame, while the rectangle, if placed
across the opening, will not enter. The child is much interested in this
exercise, for which we arrange in the frame a square and a series of
rectangles, having the longest side equal to the side of the square, the
other side gradually decreasing in the five pieces.
In the same way we proceed to show the difference between the oval, the
ellipse, and the circle. The circle enters no matter how it is placed,
or turned about; the ellipse does not enter when placed transversely,
but if placed lengthwise will enter even if turned upside down. The
oval, however, not only cannot enter the frame if placed transversely,
but not even when turned upside down; it must be placed with the _large_
curve toward the large part of the opening, and with the _narrow_ curve
toward the _narrow_ portion of the opening.
The circles, _big_ and _little_, enter their frames no matter how they
are turned about. I do not reveal the difference between the oval and
the ellipse until a very late stage of the child's education, and then
not to all children, but only to those who show a special interest in
the forms by choosing the game often, or by asking about the
differences. I prefer that such differences should be recognised later
by the child, spontaneously, perhaps in the elementary school.
It seems to many persons that in teaching these forms we are teaching
_geometry_, and that this is premature in schools for such young
children. Others feel that, if we wish to present geometric forms, we
should use the _solids_, as being more concrete.
I feel that I should say a word here to combat such prejudices. To
_observe_ a geometric form is not to _analyse_ it, and in the analysis
geometry begins. When, for example, we speak to the child of sides and
angles and explain these to him, even though with objective methods, as
Froebel advocates (for example, the square has four sides and can be
constructed with four sticks of equal length), then indeed we do enter
the field of geometry, and I believe that little children are too
immature for these steps. But the _observation of the form_ cannot be
too advanced for a child at this age. The plane of the table at which
the child sits while eating his supper is probably a rectangle; the
plate which contains his food is a circle, and we certainly do not
consider that the child is too _immature_ to be allowed to look at the
table and the plate.
The insets which we present simply call the attention to a given _form_.
As to the name, it is analogous to other names by which the child learns
to call things. Why should we consider it premature to teach the child
the words _circle_, _square_, _oval_, when in his home he repeatedly
hears the word _round_ used in connection with plates, etc. He will hear
his parents speak of the _square_ table, the _oval_ table, etc., and
these words in common use will remain for a long time _confused_ in his
mind and in his speech, if we do not interpose such help as that we give
in the teaching of forms.
We should reflect upon the fact that many times a child, left to
himself, makes an undue effort to comprehend the language of the adults
and the meaning of the things about him. Opportune and rational
instruction _prevents_ such an effort, and therefore does not _weary_,
but _relieves_, the child and satisfies his desire for knowledge.
Indeed, he shows his contentment by various expressions of pleasure. At
the same time, his attention is called to the word which, if he is
allowed to pronounce badly, develops in him an imperfect use of the
language.
This often arises from an effort on his part to imitate the careless
speech of persons about him, while the teacher, by pronouncing clearly
the word referring to the object which arouses the child's curiosity,
prevents such effort and such imperfections.
Here, also, we face a widespread prejudice; namely, the belief that the
child left to himself gives absolute repose to his mind. If this were so
he would remain a stranger to the world, and, instead, we see him,
little by little, spontaneously conquer various ideas and words. He is a
traveller through life, who observes the new things among which he
journeys, and who tries to understand the unknown tongue spoken by those
about him. Indeed, he makes a great and _voluntary effort_ to understand
and to imitate. The instruction given to little children should be so
directed as to _lessen this expenditure_ of poorly directed effort,
converting it instead into the enjoyment of conquest made easy and
infinitely broadened. We are _the guides_ of these travellers just
entering the great world of human thought. We should see to it that we
are intelligent and cultured guides, not losing ourselves in vain
discourse, but illustrating briefly and concisely the work of art in
which the traveller shows himself interested, and we should then
respectfully allow him to observe it as long as he wishes to. It is our
privilege to lead him to observe the most important and the most
beautiful things of life in such a way that he does not lose energy and
time in useless things, but shall find pleasure and satisfaction
throughout his pilgrimage.
I have already referred to the prejudice that it is more suitable to
present the geometric forms to the child in the _solid_ rather than in
the _plane_, giving him, for example, the _cube_, the _sphere_, the
_prism_. Let us put aside the physiological side of the question showing
that the visual recognition of the solid figure is more complex than
that of the plane, and let us view the question only from the more
purely pedagogical standpoint of _practical life_.
The greater number of objects which we look upon every day present more
nearly the aspect of our plane geometric insets. In fact, doors,
window-frames, framed pictures, the wooden or marble top of a table, are
indeed _solid_ objects, but with one of the dimensions greatly reduced,
and with the two dimensions determining the form of the plane surface
made most evident.
When the plane form prevails, we say that the window is rectangular, the
picture frame oval, this table square, etc. _Solids having a determined
form prevailing in the plane surface_ are almost the only ones which
come to our notice. And such solids are clearly represented by our
_plane geometric insets_.
The child will _very often_ recognise in his environment forms which he
has learned in this way, but he will rarely recognise the _solid
geometric forms_.
That the table leg is a prism, or a truncated cone, or an elongated
cylinder, will come to his knowledge long after he has observed that the
top of the table upon which he places things is rectangular. We do not,
therefore, speak of the fact of recognising that a house is a prism or a
cube. Indeed, the pure solid geometric forms _never exist_ in the
ordinary objects about us; these present, instead, a _combination of
forms_. So, putting aside the difficulty of taking in at a glance the
complex form of a house, the child recognises in it, not an _identity_
of form, but an _analogy_.
He will, however, see the plane geometric forms perfectly represented in
windows and doors, and in the faces of many solid objects in use at
home. Thus the knowledge of the forms given him in the plane geometric
insets will be for him a species of magic _key_, opening the external
world, and making him feel that he knows its secrets.
I was walking one day upon the Pincian Hill with a boy from the
elementary school. He had studied geometric design and understood the
analysis of plane geometric figures. As we reached the highest terrace
from which we could see the Piazza del Popolo with the city stretching
away behind it, I stretched out my hand saying, "Look, all the works of
man are a great mass of geometric figures;" and, indeed, rectangles,
ovals, triangles, and semicircles, perforated, or ornamented, in a
hundred different ways the grey rectangular facades of the various
buildings. Such uniformity in such an expanse of buildings seemed to
prove the _limitation_ of human intelligence, while in an adjoining
garden plot the shrubs and flowers spoke eloquently of the infinite
variety of forms in nature.
The boy had never made these observations; he had studied the angles,
the sides and the construction of outlined geometric figures, but
without thinking beyond this, and feeling only annoyance at this arid
work. At first he laughed at the idea of man's massing geometric figures
together, then he became interested, looked long at the buildings before
him, and an expression of lively and thoughtful interest came into his
face. To the right of the Ponte Margherita was a factory building in the
process of construction, and its steel framework delineated a series of
rectangles. "What tedious work!" said the boy, alluding to the workmen.
And, then, as we drew near the garden, and stood for a moment in silence
admiring the grass and the flowers which sprang so freely from the
earth, "It is beautiful!" he said. But that word "beautiful" referred to
the inner awakening of his own soul.
This experience made me think that in the observation of the plane
geometric forms, and in that of the plants which they saw growing in
their own little gardens, there existed for the children precious
sources of spiritual as well as intellectual education. For this reason,
I have wished to make my work broad, leading the child, not only to
observe the forms about him, but to distinguish the work of man from
that of nature, and to appreciate the fruits of human labour.
(_a_) _Free Design._ I give the child a sheet of white paper and a
pencil, telling him that he may draw whatever he wishes to. Such
drawings have long been of interest to experimental psychologists. Their
importance lies in the fact that they reveal the _capacity_ of the child
for observing, and also show his individual tendencies. Generally, the
first drawings are unformed and confused, and the teacher should ask
the child _what he wished to draw_, and should write it underneath the
design that it may be a record. Little by little, the drawings become
more intelligible, and verily reveal the progress which the child makes
in the observation of the forms about him. Often the most minute details
of an object have been observed and recorded in the crude sketch. And,
since the child draws what he wishes, he reveals to us which are the
objects that most strongly attract his attention.
(_b_) _Design Consisting of the Filling in of Outlined Figures._ These
designs are most important as they constitute "the preparation for
writing." They do for the colour sense what _free design_ does for the
sense of _form_. In other words, they reveal the capacity of the child
_in the matter of observation of colours_, as the free design showed us
the extent to which he was an observer of form in the objects
surrounding him. I shall speak more fully of this work in the chapter on
_writing_. The exercises consist in filling in with coloured pencil,
certain outlines drawn in black. These outlines present the simple
geometric figures and various objects with which the child is familiar
in the schoolroom, the home, and the garden. The child must _select_ his
colour, and in doing so he shows us whether he has observed the colours
of the things surrounding him.
_Free Plastic Work_
These exercises are analogous to those in free design and in the filling
in of figures with coloured pencils. Here the child makes whatever he
wishes with _clay_; that is, he models those objects which he remembers
most distinctly and which have impressed him most deeply. We give the
child a wooden tray containing a piece of clay, and then we await his
work. We possess some very remarkable pieces of clay work done by our
little ones. Some of them reproduce, with surprising minuteness of
detail, objects which they have seen. And what is most surprising, these
models often record not only the form, but even the _dimensions_ of the
objects which the child handled in school.
Many little ones model the objects which they have seen at home,
especially kitchen furniture, water-jugs, pots, and pans. Sometimes, we
are shown a simple cradle containing a baby brother or sister. At first
it is necessary to place written descriptions upon these objects, as it
is necessary to do with the free design. Later on, however, the models
are easily recognisable, and the children learn to reproduce the
geometric solids. These clay models are undoubtedly very valuable
material for the teacher, and make clear many individual differences,
thus helping her to understand her children more fully. In our method
they are also valuable as psychological manifestations of development
according to age. Such designs are precious guides also for the teacher
in the matter of her intervention in the child's education. The children
who, in this work reveal themselves as observers, will probably become
spontaneous observers of all the world about them, and may be led toward
such a goal by the indirect help of exercises tending to fix and to make
more exact the various sensations and ideas.
These children will also be those who arrive most quickly at the act of
_spontaneous writing_. Those whose clay work remains unformed and
indefinite will probably need the direct revelation of the directress,
who will need to call their attention in some material manner to the
objects around them.
_Geometric Analysis of Figures; Sides, Angles, Centre, Base_
The geometric analysis of figures is not adapted to very young children.
I have tried a means for the _introduction_ of such analysis, limiting
this work to the _rectangle_ and making use of a game which includes the
analysis without fixing the attention of the child upon it. This game
presents the concept most clearly.
The _rectangle_ of which I make use is the plane of one of the
children's tables, and the game consists in laying the table for a meal.
I have in each of the "Children's Houses" a collection of toy
table-furnishings, such as may be found in any toy-store. Among these
are dinner-plates, soup-plates, soup-tureen, saltcellars, glasses,
decanters, little knives, forks, spoons, etc. I have them lay the table
for six, putting _two places_ on each of the longer sides, and one place
on each of the shorter sides. One of the children takes the objects and
places them as I indicate. I tell him to place the soup tureen in the
_centre_ of the table; this napkin in a _corner_. "Place this plate in
the centre of the short _side_."
Then I have the child look at the table, and I say, "Something is
lacking in this _corner_. We want another glass on this _side_. Now let
us see if we have everything properly placed on the two longer sides. Is
everything ready on the two shorter sides? Is there anything lacking in
the four corners?"
I do not believe that we may proceed to any more complex analysis than
this before the age of six years, for I believe that the child should
one day take up one of the plane insets and _spontaneously_ begin to
count the sides and the angles. Certainly, if we taught them such ideas
they would be able to learn them, but it would be a mere learning of
formulae, and not applied experience.
_Exercises in the Chromatic Sense_
I have already indicated what colour exercises we follow. Here I wish to
indicate more definitely the succession of these exercises and to
describe them more fully.
_Designs and Pictures._ We have prepared a number of outline drawings
which the children are to fill in with coloured pencil, and, later on,
with a brush, preparing for themselves the water-colour tints which they
will use. The first designs are of flowers, butterflies, trees and
animals, and we then pass to simple landscapes containing grass, sky,
houses, and human figures.
These designs help us in our study of the natural development of the
child as an observer of his surroundings; that is, in regard to colour.
The children _select the colours_ and are left entirely free in their
work. If, for example, they colour a chicken red, or a cow green, this
shows that they have not yet become observers. But I have already spoken
of this in the general discussion of the method. These designs also
reveal the effect of the education of the chromatic sense. As the child
selects delicate and harmonious tints, or strong and contrasting ones,
we can judge of the progress he has made in the refinement of his colour
sense.
The fact that the child must _remember_ the colour of the objects
represented in the design encourages him to observe those things which
are about him. And then, too, he wishes to be able to fill in more
difficult designs. Only those children who know how to keep the colour
_within_ the outline and to reproduce the _right colours_ may proceed to
the more ambitious work. These designs are very easy, and often very
effective, sometimes displaying real artistic work. The directress of
the school in Mexico, who studied for a long time with me, sent me two
designs; one representing a cliff in which the stones were coloured most
harmoniously in light violet and shades of brown, trees in two shades of
green, and the sky a soft blue. The other represented a horse with a
chestnut coat and black mane and tail.