CHAPTER II.

RELATIVE VALUE OF STUDIES.

Being convinced that the controlling aim of education should be moral,

we shall now inquire into the relative value of different studies and

their fitness to reach and satisfy this aim. As measured upon this

cardinal purpose, what is the intrinsic value of each school study?

The branches of knowledge furnish the materials upon which a child's

mind works. Before entering upon such a long and up-hill task as

education, with its weighty results, it is prudent to estimate not only

the end in view, but the best means of reaching it. Many means are

offered, some trivial, others valuable. A careful measurement, with

some reliable standard, of the materials furnished by the common

school, is our first task. To what extent does history contribute to

our purpose? What importance have geography and arithmetic? How do

reading and natural science aid a child to grow into the full stature

of a man or woman?

These questions are not new, but the answer to them has been long

delayed. Since the time of Comenius, to say the least, they have

seriously disturbed educators. But few have had the courage, industry,

and breadth of mind of a Comenius, to sound the educational waters and

to lay out a profitable chart. In spite of Comenius' labors, however,

and those of other educational reformers be they never so energetic,

practical progress toward a final answer, as registered in school

courses, has been extremely slow.

Herbert Spencer says: "If there needs any further evidence of the rude,

undeveloped character of our education, we have it in the fact that the

comparative worths of the different kinds of knowledge have been as yet

scarcely even discussed, much less discussed in a methodic way with

definite results. Not only is it that no standard of relative values

has yet been agreed upon, but the existence of any such standard has

not been conceived in any clear manner. And not only is it that the

existence of such a standard has not been clearly conceived, but the

need of it seems to have been scarcely even felt. Men read books on

this topic and attend lectures upon that, decide that their children

shall be instructed in these branches and not in those; and all under

the guidance of mere custom, or liking, or prejudice, without ever

considering the enormous importance of determining in some rational way

what things are really most worth learning. * * * * * Men dress their

children's minds as they do their bodies, in the prevailing fashion."

Spencer, _Education_, p. 26.

Spencer sees clearly the importance of this problem and gives it a

vigorous discussion in his first chapter, "What knowledge is of most

worth?" But the question is a broad and fundamental one and in his

preference for the natural sciences he seems to us not to have

maintained a just balance of educational forces in preparing a child

for "complete living." His theory needs also to be worked out into

greater detail and applied to school conditions before it can be of

much value to teachers. It can scarcely be said that any other

Englishman or American has seriously grappled with this problem. Great

changes and reforms indeed have been started, especially within the

last fifty years, but they have been undertaken under the pressure of

general popular demands and have resulted in compromises between

traditional forces and urgent popular needs. An adequate philosophical

inquiry into the relative merit of studies and their adaptability to

nurture mental, moral, and physical qualities has not been made.

The Germans have worked to a better purpose. Quite a number of able

thinkers among them have given their best years to the study of this

problem of relative educational values and to a working out of its

results. Herbart, Ziller, Stoy, and Rein have been deeply interested

in philosophy and psychology as life-long teachers of these subjects at

the university, but in their practice schools in the same place they

also stood daily face to face with the primary difficulties of ordinary

teaching. At the outset, and before laying out a course of study, they

were compelled to meet and settle the aim of education and the problem

of relative values. Having answered these questions to their own

satisfaction, they proceeded to work out in detail a common school

course. The Herbart school of teachers has presumed to call its

interpretation of educational ideas "scientific pedagogy," a somewhat

pretentious name in view of the fact that many leading educators in

Germany, England, and elsewhere, deny the existence of such a science.

But if not a science, it is at least a serious attempt at one. The

exposition of principles that follow is chiefly derived from them.

With us the present time is favorable to a rational inquiry into

relative educational values and to a thorough-going application of the

results to school courses and methods.

_In the first place_ the old _classical monopoly_ is finally and

completely broken, at least so far as the common school is concerned.

It ruled education for several centuries, but now even its methods of

discipline are losing their antique hold. The natural sciences, modern

history, and literature have assumed an equal place with the old

classical studies in college courses. Freed from old traditions and

prejudice, our common school is now grounded in the vernacular, in the

national history and literature, and in home geography and natural

science. Its roots go deep into native soil. _Secondly_, the door of

the common school has been thrown open to the new studies and they have

entered in a troop. History, drawing, natural science, modern

literature, and physical culture have been added to the old reading,

writing, and arithmetic. The common school was never so untrammeled.

It is free to absorb into its course the select materials of the best

studies. Teachers really enjoy more freedom in selecting and arranging

subjects and in introducing new things than they know how to make use

of. There is no one in high authority to check the reform spirit and

even local boards are often among the advocates of change. _In the

third place_, by multiplying studies, the common school course has

grown more complex and heterogeneous. The old reading, writing,

arithmetic, and grammar could not be shelved for the sake of the new

studies and the same amount of time must be divided now among many

branches. It is not to be wondered at if all the studies are treated

in a shallow and fragmentary way. Some of the new studies, especially,

are not well taught. There is less of unity in higher education now

than there was before the classical studies and "the three R's" lost

their supremacy. Our common school course has become a batch of

miscellanies. We are in danger of overloading pupils, as well as of

making a superficial hodge-podge of all branches. There is imperative

need for sifting the studies according to their value, as well as for

bringing them into right connection and dependence upon one another.

_Fourthly_, there is a large body of thoughtful and inquiring teachers

and principals who are working at a revision of the school course.

They seek something tangible, a working plan, which will help them in

their present perplexities and show them a wise use of drawing, natural

science, and literature, in harmony with the other studies. _Finally_,

since we are in the midst of such a breaking-up period, we need to take

our bearings. In order to avoid mistakes and excesses there is a call

for deep, impartial, and many-sided thinking on educational problems.

Supposing that we know what the controlling aim of education is, we are

next led to inquire about and to determine the relative value of

studies as tributary to this aim.

It is not however our purpose to give an original solution to this

problem and to those which follow it. We must decline to attempt a

philosophical inquiry into fundamental principles and their origin.

Ours is the humbler task of explaining and applying principles already

worked out by others; that is, to give the results of Herbartian

pedagogy as applied to our schools.

Instead of discussing the many branches of study one after another, it

will be well to make a broad division of them into three classes and

observe the marked features and value of each. First, _history_,

including the subject matter of biography, history, story, and other

parts of literature. Second, the _natural sciences_. Third, _the

formal studies_, grammar, writing, much of arithmetic, and the symbols

used in reading.

The first two open up the great fields of real knowledge and

experience, the world of man and of external nature, the two great

reservoirs of interesting facts. We will first examine these two

fields and consider their value as constituent parts of the school

course.

_History_, in our present sense, includes what we usually understand by

it, as U. S. history, modern and ancient history, also biography,

tradition, fiction as expressing human life and the novel or romance,

and historical and literary masterpieces of all sorts, as the drama and

the epic poem, so far as they delineate man's experience and character.

In a still broader sense, history includes language as the expression

of men's thoughts and feelings. But this is the formal side of history

with which we are not at present concerned. History deals with men's

motives and actions as individuals or in society, with their

dispositions, habits, and institutions, and with the monuments and

literature they have left.

The relations of persons to each other in society give rise to morals.

How? The act of a person--as when a fireman rescues a child from a

burning building--shows a disposition in the actor. We praise or

condemn this disposition as the deed is good or bad. But each moral

judgment, rightly given, leaves us stronger. To appreciate and judge

fairly the life and acts of a woman like Mary Lyon, or of a man such as

Samuel Armstrong, is to awaken something of their spirit and moral

temper in ourselves. Whether in the life of David or of Shylock, or of

the people whom they represent, the study of men is primarily a study

of morals, of conduct. It is in the personal hardships, struggles, and

mutual contact of men that motives and moral impulses are observed and

weighed. In such men as John Bunyan, William the Silent, and John

Quincy Adams, we are much interested to know what qualities of mind and

heart they possessed, and especially what human sympathies and

antipathies they felt. Livingstone embodied in his African life

certain Christian virtues which we love and honor the more because they

were so severely and successfully tested. Although the history of men

and of society has many uses, its best influence is in illustrating and

inculcating moral ideas. It is teaching morals by example. Even

living companions often exert less influence upon children than the

characters impressed upon their minds from reading. The deliberate

plan of teachers and parents might make this influence more salutary

and effective.

It will strike most teachers as a surprise to say that _the chief use

of history study is to form moral notions in children_. Their

experience with this branch of school work has been quite different.

They have not so regarded nor used history. It has been generally

looked upon as a body of useful information that intelligent persons

must possess. Our history texts also have been constructed for another

purpose, namely, to summarize and present important facts in as brief

space as possible, not to reveal personal actions and character as a

formative moral influence in the education of the young. Even as

sources of valuable information, Spencer shows that our histories have

been extremely deficient; but for moral purposes they are almost

worthless.

Now, moral dispositions are a better fruitage and test of worth in men

than any intellectual acquirements. History is already a recognized

study of admitted value in the schools. It is a shame to strip it of

that content and of that influence which are its chief merit. To study

the conduct of persons as illustrating right actions is, in quality,

the highest form of instruction. Other very important things are also

involved in a right study of history. There are economic, political,

and social institutions evolved out of previous history; there are

present intricate problems to be approached and understood. But all

these questions rest to a large extent upon moral principles. But

while these political, social, and economic interests are beyond the

present reach of children, biography, individual life and action in

their simple forms, are plain to their understanding. They not only

make moral conduct real and impressive, but they gradually lead up to

an appreciation of history in its social and institutional forms.

Some of the best historical materials (from biography, tradition, and

fiction) should be absorbed by children in each grade as an essential

part of the substratum of moral ideas. This implies more than a

collection of historical stories in a supplementary reader for

intermediate grades. It means that history in the broad sense is to be

an important study in every grade, and that it shall become a center

and reservoir from which reading books and language lessons draw their

supplies. These biographies, stories, and historical episodes must be

the best which our history and classic literature can furnish, and

whatever is of like virtue in the life of other kindred peoples, of

England, Germany, Greece, etc.

If history in this sense can be made a strong auxiliary to moral

education in common schools, the whole body of earnest teachers will be

gratified. For there is no theme among them of such perennial interest

and depth of meaning as _moral culture_ in schools. It is useless to

talk of confining our teachers to the intellectual exercises outlined

in text books. They are conscious of dealing with children of moral

susceptibility. In our meetings, discussions on the means of moral

influence are more frequent and earnest than on any other topic; and in

their daily work hundreds of our teachers are aiming at moral character

in children more than at anything else. As they free themselves from

mechanical requirements and begin to recognize their true function,

they discover the transcendent importance of moral education, that it

underlies and gives meaning to all the other work of the teacher.

But teachers heretofore have taken a narrow view of the moral

influences at their disposal. Their ever-recurring emphatic refrain

has been "_the example of the teacher_," and, to tell the truth, there

is no better means of instilling moral ideas than the presence and

inspiration of a high-toned teacher. We know, however, that teachers

need moral stimulus and encouragement as much as anybody. It will not

do to suppose that they have reached the pinnacle of moral excellence

and can stand as all-sufficient exemplars to children. The teacher

himself must have food as well as the children. He must partake of the

loaf he distributes to them. The clergyman also should be an example

of Christian virtue, but he preaches the gospel as illustrated in the

life of Christ, of St. Paul, and of others. In pressing home moral and

religious truths his appeal is to great sources of inspiration which

lie outside of himself. Why should the teacher rely upon his own

unaided example more than the preacher? No teacher can feel that he

embodies in himself, except in an imperfect way, the strong moral ideas

that have made the history of good men worth reading. No matter what

resources he may have in his own character, the teacher needs to employ

moral forces that lie outside of himself, ideals toward which he

struggles and towards which he inspires and leads others. The very

fact that he appreciates and admires a man like Longfellow or Peter

Cooper will stir the children with like feelings. In this sense it is

a mistake to center all attention upon the conduct of the teacher. He

is but a guide, or, like Goldsmith's preacher, he allures to brighter

worlds and leads the way. It is better for pupil and teacher to enter

into the companionship of common aims and ideals. For them to study

together and admire the conduct of Roger Williams is to bring them into

closer sympathy, and what do teachers need more than to get into

_personal sympathy_ with their children? Let them climb the hill

together, and enjoy the views together, and grow so intimate in their

aims and sympathies that afterlife cannot break the bond. When the

inspirations and aims thus gained have gradually changed into

tendencies and habits, the child is morally full-fledged. It is high

ground upon which to land youth, or aid in landing him, but it is

clearly in view.

It is only gradually that moral ideas gain an ascendency, first over

the thoughts and feelings of a child and later still over his conduct.

Many good impressions at first seem to bear no fruit in action. But

examples and experience reiterate the truth till it finds a firm

lodgment and begins to act as a check upon natural impulses. Many a

child reads the stories in the _Youth's Companion_ with absorbing

interest but in the home circle fails noticeably to imitate the conduct

he admires. But moral ideas must grow a little before they can yield

fruit. The seed of example must drop into the soil of the mind under

favorable conditions; it must germinate and send up its shoots to some

height before its presence and nature can be clearly seen. The

application of moral ideas to conduct is very important even in

childhood, out patience and care are necessary in most cases. There

must be timely sowing of the seed and judicious cultivation, if good

fruits are to be gathered later on. There is indeed much anxiety and

painful uncertainty on the part of those who charge themselves with the

moral training of children. Labor and birth pains are antecedent to

the delivery of a moral being. Then again a child must develop

according to what is in him, his nature and peculiar disposition. The

processes of growth are within him and the best you can do is to give

them scope. He is _free_ and you are _bound_ to minister to his best

freedom. The common school age is the _formative period_. At six a

child is morally immature; at fifteen the die has been stamped. This

youthful wilderness must be crossed. We can't turn back. There is no

other way of reaching the promised land. But there are rebellions and

baitings and disorderly scenes.

This is a tortuous road! Isn't there a quicker and easier way? The

most speedily constructed road across this region is _a short treatise_

on morals for teacher and pupil. In this way it is possible to have

all the virtues and faults tabulated, labeled, and transferred in brief

space to the minds of the children (if the discipline is rigorous

enough). Swallow a catechism, reduced to a verbal memory product.

Pack away the essence of morals in a few general laws and rules and

have the children learn them. Some day they may understand. What

astounding faith in memory cram and dry forms! We _can_ pave such a

road through the fields of moral science, but when a child has traveled

it is he a whit the better? No such paved road is good for anything.

It isn't even comfortable. It has been tried a dozen times in much

less important fields of knowledge than morals. Moral ideas spring up

out of experience with persons either in real life or in the books we

read. Examples of moral action drawn from life are the only thing that

can give meaning to moral precepts. If we see a harsh man beating his

horse, we get an ineffaceable impression of harshness. By reading the

story of the Black Beauty we acquire a lively sympathy for animals.

Then the maxim "A merciful man is merciful to his beast" will be a good

summary of the impressions received. Moral ideas always have a

concrete basis or origin. Some companion with whose feelings and

actions you are in close personal contact, or some character from

history or fiction by whose personality you have been strongly

attracted, gives you your keenest impressions of moral qualities. To

begin with abstract moral teaching, or to put faith in it, is to

misunderstand children. In morals as in other forms of knowledge,

children are overwhelmingly interested in personal and individual

examples, things which have form, color, action. The attempt to sum up

the important truths of a subject and present them as abstractions to

children is almost certain to be a failure, pedagogically considered.

It has been demonstrated again and again, even in high schools, that

botany, chemistry, physics, and zoology can not be taught by such brief

scientific compendia of rules and principles--"Words, words, words," as

Hamlet said. We can not learn geography from definitions and map

questions, nor morals from catechisms. And just as in natural science

we are resorting perforce to plants, animals, and natural phenomena, so

in morals we turn to the deeds and lives of men. Columbus in his

varying fortunes leaves vivid impressions of the moral strength and

weakness of himself and of others. John Winthrop gives frequent

examples of generous and unselfish good-will to the settlers about

Boston. Little Lord Fauntleroy is a better treatise on morals for

children than any of our sermonizers have written. We must get at

morals without moralizing and drink in moral convictions without

resorting to moral platitudes. Educators are losing faith in words,

definitions, and classifications. It is a truism that we can't learn

chemistry or zoology from books alone, nor can moral judgments be

rendered except from individual actions.

A little reflection will show that we are only demanding _object

lessons_ in the field of moral education, extensive, systematic object

lessons; choice experiences and episodes from human life, simple and

clear, painted in natural colors, as shown by our best history and

literature. To appreciate the virtues and vices, to sympathize with

better impulses, we must travel beyond words and definitions till we

come in contact with the personal deeds that first give rise to them.

The life of Martin Luther, with its faults and merits honestly

represented, is a powerful moral tonic to the reader; the autobiography

of Franklin brings out a great variety of homely truths in the form of

interesting episodes in his career. Adam Bede and Romola impress us

more powerfully and permanently than the best sermons, because the

individual realism in them leads to a vividness of moral judgment of

their acts unequalled. King Lear teaches us the folly of a rash

judgment with overwhelming force. Evangeline awakens our sympathies as

no moralist ever dreamed of doing. Uncle Tom in Mrs. Stowe's story was

a stronger preacher than Wendell Phillips. William Tell in Schiller's

play kindles our love for heroic deeds into an enthusiasm. The best

myths, historical biographies, novels, and dramas, are the richest

sources of moral stimulus because they lead us into the immediate

presence of those men and women whose deeds stir up our moral natures.

In the representations of the masters we are in the presence of moral

ideas clothed in flesh and blood, real and yet idealized. Generosity

is not a name but the act of a person which wins our interest and,

favor. To get the impress of kindness we must see an act of kindness

and feel the glow it produces. When Sir Philip Sidney, wounded on the

battle field and suffering with thirst, reached out his hand for a cup

of water that was brought, his glance fell upon a dying soldier who

viewed the cup with great desire; Sidney handed him the water with the

words, "Thy necessity is greater than mine." No one can refuse his

approval for this act. After telling the story of the man who went

down to Jericho and fell among thieves, and then of the priest, the

Levite, and the Samaritan who passed that way, Jesus put the question

to his critic, "Who was neighbor to him that fell among thieves?" And

the answer came even from unwilling lips, "He that showed mercy." When

Nathan Hale on the scaffold regretted that he had but one life to lose

for his country, we realize better what patriotism is. On the other

hand it is natural to _condemn wrong deeds_ when presented clearly and

objectively in the action of another. Nero caused Christians to be

falsely accused and then to be condemned to the claws of wild beasts in

the arena. When such cruelty is practiced against the innocent and

helpless, we condemn the act. When Columbus was thrown into chains

instead of being rewarded, we condemn the Spaniards. In the same way

the real world of persons about us, the acts of parents, companions,

and teachers are powerful in giving a good or bad tone to our

sentiments, because, as living object lessons, their impress is

directly and constantly upon us.

In such cases taken from daily experience and from illustrations of

personal conduct in books, it is possible to observe _how moral

judgments originate_ and by repetition grow into convictions. They

spring up naturally and surely when we understand well the

circumstances under which an act was performed. The interest and

sympathy felt for the persons lends great vividness to the judgments

expressed. Each individual act stands out clearly and calls forth a

prompt and unerring approval or disapproval. (But later the judgment

must react upon our own conduct.) The examples are simple and

objective, free from selfish interest on the child's part, so that good

and bad acts are recognized in their true quality. These simple moral

judgments are only a beginning, only a sowing of the seed. But

harvests will not grow and ripen unless seed has been laid in the

ground. It is a long road to travel before these early moral

impressions develop into firm convictions which rule the conduct of an

adult. But education is necessarily a slow process, and it is likely

to be a perverted one unless the foundation is carefully laid in early

years. The fitting way then to cultivate moral judgments, that is, to

start just ideas of right and wrong, of virtues and vices, is by a

regular and systematic presentation of persons illustrating noble and

ignoble acts. A preference for the right and an aversion for the wrong

will be the sure result of careful teaching. Habits of judging will be

formed and strong moral convictions established which may be gradually

brought to influence and control action.

A good share of the influences that are thrown around an ordinary child

need to be counteracted. It can be done to a considerable extent _by

instruction_. Many of the interesting characters of history are better

company for us and for children than our neighbors and contemporaries.

For the purposes of moral example and inspiration we may select as

companions for them the best persons in history, provided we know how

to select for ourselves and others. Their acts are personal,

biographical, and interesting, and appeal at once to children as well

as to their elders. There is no good reason why a much greater number

of our school children should not be brought under the influence of the

best books suited to their age. Here is a source of educational

influence of high quality which is left too much to accident and to the

natural, unaided instinct of children. A few get the benefit but many

more are capable of receiving it. How much better the school choice

and treatment of such books may be than the loose and miscellaneous

reading of children, is discussed in Special Method. A fit

introduction of children to this class of literature should be in the

hands of teachers, and all the later reading of pupils will feel the

salutary effect.

If this is the proper origin and culture of moral ideas, we desire to

know how to utilize it in the common school course. It can only be

done by an extensive use of historical and literary materials in all

grades with the _conscious purpose_ of shaping moral ideas and

character. That the school has such influence at its disposal can not

be reasonably denied by any one who believes that the family or the

church can affect the moral character of their children. It may be

objected that the school thus takes up the proper work of the home,

when it ought to be occupied with other things. Would that the homes

were all good! But even if they were the teacher could not fold his

arms over a responsibility removed. As soon as a boy enters school, if

not sooner, he begins, in some sense, to outgrow the home. New

influences and interests find a lodgment in his affections.

Companions, the wider range of his acquaintances, studies, and

ambitions, share now with the home. John Locke objected radically to

English public schools on this account. But even if we desired, we

could not resort to private tutors as Locke did. The child is growing

and changing. Who shall organize unity out of this maze of thoughts,

interests, and influences, casting out the useless and bad, combining

and strengthening the good? The more service the home renders the

better. The child's range of thought and ambition is expanding. Who

has the best survey of the field? In many cases at least, the teacher,

especially where parents lack the culture and the children need a

guide. Who spends six hours a day directing these currents of thought

and interest? We are not disposed to underestimate the magnitude of

the task here laid upon the teacher. The rights and duties of the home

are not put in question. Indeed the spirit of this kind of teaching is

best illustrated in a good home. A teacher who has a father's anxiety

in the real welfare of children will not forget his duty in watching

their moral growth. The moral atmosphere of a good home will remain

the ideal for the school. In fact, Herbart's plan of education

originated not in a school-room, but in an excellent home in

Switzerland, where he spent three years in the private instruction of

three boys. The conscientious zeal with which he devoted himself to

the moral and mental growth of these children is a model for teachers.

The shaping of three characters was, according to his view, entrusted

to him. The common notion of intellectual growth and strength which

rules in such cases was at once subordinated to _character development_

in the moral sense. Not that the two ideas are at all antagonistic,

but one is more important than the other. The selection of reading

matter, of studies, and of employments, was adapted to each boy with a

view to influencing conduct and moral action.

The Herbart school adheres to this view of education, and has

_transferred its spirit and method to the schools_. The Herbartians

have the hardihood, in this age of moral skeptics, to believe not only

in moral example but also in moral teaching. (By moral skeptics we

mean those who believe in morals but not in moral instruction.) They

seek first of all historical materials of the richest moral content, in

vivid personification, upon which to nourish the moral spirit of

children. If properly treated, this subject matter will soon win the

children by its power over feeling and judgment. With Crusoe the child

goes through every hardship and success; with Abraham he lives in

tents, seeks pastures for his flocks, and generously marches out to the

rescue of his kinsmen. He should not read Caesar with a slow and

toilsome drag (parsing and construing) that would render a bright boy

stupid. If he goes with Caesar at all, he must build an _agger_, fight

battles, construct bridges, and approve or condemn Caesar's acts. But

we doubt the moral value of Caesar's Gallic wars. By reading Plutarch

we may see that the Latins and Greeks, before the days of their

degeneracy, nourished their rising youth upon the traditions of their

ancestry. The education produced a tough and sinewy brood of moral

qualities. Their great men were great characters, largely because of

the mother-milk of national tradition and family training. In Scotch,

English, and German history we are familiar with Alfred, Bruce,

Siegfried, and many other heroes of similar value in the training of

youth.

It will be well for us to look into our own history and see what sort

of a moral heritage of educative materials it has left us. What noble

examples does it furnish of right thought and action? Have we any

home-bred food like this for the nourishment of our growing youth? Our

native American history is indeed nobler in tone and more abundant.

For moral educative purposes in the training of the young the history

of America, from the early explorations and settlements along the

Atlantic coast to the present, has scarcely a parallel in history. It

was a race of moral heroes that led the first colonies to many of the

early settlements. Winthrop, Penn, Williams, Oglethorpe, Raleigh, and

Columbus were great and simple characters, deeply moral and practical.

For culture purposes, where can their equals be found? And where was

given a better opportunity for the display of personal virtues than by

the leaders of these little danger-encircled communities? The leaven

of purity, piety, and manly independence which they brought with them

and illustrated, has never ceased to work powerfully among our people.

Why not bring the children into direct contact with these characters in

the intermediate grades, not by short and sketchy stories, but by full

life pictures of these men and their surroundings? We have not been

wholly lacking in literary artists who have worked up a part of these

materials into a more durable and acceptable form for our schools. We

need to make an abundant use of this and other history for our boys and

girls, not by devoting a year in the upper grades to a barren outline

of American annals, but by a proper distribution of these and other

similar rich treasures throughout the grades of the common school.

Tradition and fiction are scarcely less valuable than biography and

history because of their vivid portrayal of strong and typical

characters. Our own literature, and the world's literature at large,

are a store-house well-stocked with moral educative materials, properly

suited to children at different ages, if only sorted, selected, and

arranged. But this requires broad knowledge of our best literature and

clear insight into child character at different ages. This problem

will not be solved in a day, nor in a life-time.

In making a progressive series of our best historical and literary

products, it is necessary to select those materials which are better

adapted than anything else to interest, influence, and mould the

character of children at each time of life. It is now generally agreed

by the best teachers that these selections shall be classical

masterpieces, not in fragments but as wholes. They should be those

classical materials that bear the stamp of genuine nobility. Goethe

says "_The best is good enough for children_." For some years past in

our grammar grades we have been using some of the best selections of

Whittier, Longfellow, Bryant, and others, and we are not even

frightened by the length of such productions as Evangeline, The Lady of

the Lake, or Julius Caesar. A simple, adapted version of Robinson

Crusoe is used in some schools as a second reader. From time

immemorial choice selections of prose and verse have formed the staple

of our readers above the third. But generally these selections are

scrappy or fragmentary. Few of the great masterpieces have been used

because most of them are supposed to be too long. Broken fragments of

our choice literary products have been served up, but the best literary

works as wholes have never been given to the children in the schools.

The Greek youth were better served with the Iliad and Odyssey, and some

of our grandfathers with the tales of the Old Testament. We now go

still further back in the child-life and make use of fairy tales in the

first grade. But many are not yet able to realize that select fairy

stories are genuinely classical, that they are as well adapted to

stimulate the minds of children as Hamlet the minds of adults. (See

Special Method.)

The chief aim of our schools all along has not been an appreciation of

literary masterpieces either in their moral or art value, but to

acquire skill in reading, fluency, and naturalness, of expression. Our

schools have been almost completely absorbed in the purely _formal_ use

of our literary materials, learning to read in the earlier grades and

learning to read with rhetorical expression and confidence in the later

ones. In the present argument our chief concern is not with the formal

use of literary materials for practice in reading, but with the moral

culture, conviction, and habit of life they may foster. Nor have we

chiefly in view the _art_ side of our best literary pieces.

Appreciation of beauty in poetry and of strength in prose, admirable as

they may be, are quite secondary to the main purpose. Coming in direct

and vivid contact with manly deeds or with unselfish acts as

personified in choice biography, history, fiction, and real life, will

inspire children with thoughts that make life worth living. Neither

formal skill in reading nor appreciation of literary art can atone for

the lack of _direct moral incentive_ which historical studies should

give. All three ends should be reached.

Many teachers are now calling for a change in the spirit with which the

best biography and literature are used. They call for an improvement

in the quality and an increase in the quantity of complete historical

episodes and of literary masterpieces. An appreciative reading of

Ivanhoe revives the spirit of that age. The life of Samuel Adams is an

epic that gives the youth a chance to live amid the stirring scenes of

Boston in a notable time. Children are to live in thought and interest

the lives of many men of other generations, as of Tell, Columbus,

Livingstone, Lincoln, Penn, Franklin, Fulton. They are to partake of

the experiences of the best typical men in the story of our own and of

other countries.

The use of the best historical and literary works as a means of

strengthening moral motives and principles with children whose minds

and characters are developing, is a high aim in itself. And it will

add _interest and life_ to the formal studies, such as reading,

spelling, grammar, and composition, which spring out of this valuable

subject-matter.

History, in the broad sense, should be the chief constituent of a

child's education. That subject-matter which contains the essence of

moral culture in generative form deserves to constitute the chief

mental food of young people. The conviction of the high moral value of

historic subjects and of their peculiar adaptability to children at

different ages, brings us to a positive judgment as to their relative

value among studies. The first question, preliminary to all others in

the common school course, "What is the most important study?" is

answered by putting _history_ at the head of the list.

_Natural science_ takes the second place. In many respects it is

co-ordinate with history. The object-world, which is so interesting,

so informing, and so intimately interwoven with the needs, labors, and

progress of men, furnishes the second great constituent of education

for all children. Botany, zoology, and the other natural sciences,

taken as a unit, constitute the field of nature apart from man. They

furnish us an understanding of the varied objects and complex phenomena

of nature. It is one of the imperative needs of all human minds that

have retained their childlike thoughtfulness and spirit of inquiry, to

desire to understand nature, to classify the variety of objects and

appearances, to trace the chain of causes, and to search out the simple

laws of nature's operations. The command early came to men to subdue

the earth, and we understand better than primitive man that it is

subdued through investigation and study. All the forces and bounties

of nature are to be made serviceable to us and it can only be done by

understanding her facts and laws. The road to mastery leads through

patient observation, experiment, and study.

But we are concerned with the _educational_ value of the natural

sciences. Waitz says: "A correct philosophy of the world and of life

is possible to a person only on the basis of a knowledge of one's self

and of one's relation to surrounding nature." Diesterweg says: "No one

can afford to neglect a knowledge of nature who desires to get a

comprehension of the world and of God according to human possibility,

or who desires to find his proper relation to Him and to real things.

He who knows nothing of human history is an ignoramus, likewise he who

knows nothing of natural science. To know nothing of either is a pure

shame. Ignorance of nature is an unpardonable perversion." Kraepelin

speaks as follows; "Instruction should open up to a pupil an

understanding of the present, and thereby furnish a basis for a frank

and many-sided philosophy of life, resting upon reality. But to the

present belongs the world outside of us. Of this present there can be

no such thing as an understanding unless it relates not only to

inter-human relations but also to relations of man to animal, of animal

to plant, and of organic life to inorganic life. The necessity of

assuming a relation to our environment is unavoidable and this can only

be done by acquainting ourselves with the surrounding world in every

direction. This requirement would remain in force though man, like a

god, were set above nature and her laws. But man lives, acts, and dies

not outside of, but within the circle of nature's laws. This maxim is

axiomatic and contains the final judgment against those who claim that

a comprehensive but unified philosophy of life is possible without a

knowledge of nature." Herbart says: "Here (in nature) lies the abode

of real truth, which does not retreat before tests into an inaccessible

past (as does history). This genuinely empirical character

distinguishes the natural sciences and makes their loss irretrievable.

It is here (in nature) that the object disentangles itself from all

fancies and opinions and constantly stimulates the spirit of

observation. Here then is found an obstruction to extravagant thinking

such as the sciences themselves could not better devise." Ziller says:

"The natural sciences are necessary in education because from the

province of nature (as well as from history) are derived those means

and resources which are necessary to accomplish the purposes of the

will in action. Means and forces are the natural conditions for the

realization of aims. Without knowledge of and intelligent power over

nature, it is difficult to realize that certain aims are possible;

action cannot be successful; will effort, based upon the firm

conviction of ability, that is, judicious exercise of will, is

impossible." We quote also from Professor Rein: "Let us observe in

passing that in the great industrial contest between civilized nations,

that people will suffer defeat which falls behind in the culture of

natural science, and for this reason the motive of self-protection

would demand natural science instruction. In favor of this teaching,

the claim is further made that no science is so well adapted to train

the mind to inductive thought processes as that which rests entirely

upon induction, and that natural science study is in a position to

resist more easily and successfully than all other studies, the

deeply-rooted tendency in all branches to substitute words for ideas."

Rein (das vierte Schuljahr) explains further the leading ideas and

standpoints which have appeared in historical order among science

teachers in the common school. From the first crude ideas there has

been marked progress toward higher aims in science teaching.

1. Natural history stories for _entertainment_. Many curious and

entertaining facts in connection with animal life were searched out,

more especially unusual and spicy anecdotes of shrewdness and

intelligence. Some of the old readers, and even of the recent ones,

are enriched with such marvels.

2. _Utility_, or the study of things in nature that are directly useful

or hurtful to man. Whatever fruits or animals or herbs are of plain

service to man, as well as things poisonous or dangerous, were studied

because such information would be of future service. It was a purely

practical aim, at first very narrow, but in an enlarged and liberal

sense of much importance.

3. _Training of the senses_ and of _the observing power_. By a study

and description of natural objects, sense perception was to be

sharpened and a habit of close observation formed. Among science

teachers today no aim is more emphasized than this. It also stores

away a body of useful ideas of great future value. This is an

intellectual aim that accords better with the purpose of the school

than the preceding.

4. _Analysis_ and _determination of specimens_. To examine and trace a

plant, mineral, or insect, to its true classification and name, has

occupied much of the time of students. It requires nice

discrimination, a comprehensive grasp of relations, and a power to

seize and hold common characteristics. Many of our text-books and

courses of study are based chiefly upon this idea.

5. _System-making_, or the reduction of all things in nature to a

systematic whole, with a place for everything. Some of the greatest

scientists, Linnaeus, for example, looked upon scientific

classification as the chief aim of nature study. It has had a great

influence upon schools and teachers. The attempt to compress

everything into a system has led to many text-books which are but brief

summaries of sciences like zoology, botany, and physics. Scientific

classification is very important, but the attempt to make it a leading

aim in teaching children is a mistake.

We may add that nature study is felt by all to offer abundant scope to

the exercise of the esthetic faculty. There is great variety of beauty

and gracefulness in natural forms in plant and animal; the rich or

delicate coloring of the clouds, of birds, of insects, and of plants,

gives constant pleasure. Then there are grand and impressive scenery

and phenomena in nature, and melody and harmony in nature's voices.

These various aims of science study are valuable to the teacher as

showing him the scope of his work. But a higher and more comprehensive

standpoint has been reached. We now realize that the great purpose of

this study is _insight into nature_, into this whole physical

environment, with a view to a better appreciation of her objects,

forces, and laws, and of their bearing on human life and progress.

All these purposes thus far developed in schools are to be considered

as valuable subsidiary aims, leading up to the central purpose of the

study of natural sciences, which is, "An understanding of life and of

the powers and of the unity which express themselves in nature;" or, as

Kraepelin says: "Nature should not appear to man as an inextricable

chaos, but as a well-ordered mechanism, the parts fitting exactly to

each other, controlled by unchanging laws, and in perpetual action and

production." Humboldt is further quoted: "Nature to the mature mind is

unity in variety, unity of the manifold in form and combination, the

content or sum total of natural things and natural forces as a living

whole. The weightiest result, therefore, of deep physical study is, by

beginning with the individual, to grasp all that the discoveries of

recent times reveal to us, to separate single things critically and yet

not be overcome by the mass of details, mindful of the high destiny of

man, to comprehend the mind of nature, which lies concealed under the

mantle of phenomena." This sounds visionary and impracticable for

children of the common school, especially when we know that much lower

aims have not been successfully reached. In fact it cannot be said

that the natural sciences have any recognized standing in the common

school course. But it is worth the while to inquire whether natural

sciences will ever be taught as they should be until the best

attainable aims become the dominant principles for guiding teachers.

Stripped of its rhetoric, the above mentioned aim, "an understanding of

life and of the unity in nature," may prove a practical and inspiring

guide to the teacher.

If we look upon nature as a field of observation and study which can be

grasped as a whole both as a work of creation and as contributing in

multiplied ways to man's needs, its proper study gives a many-sided

culture to the mind. This leading purpose will bring into relation and

unity all the subordinate aims of science teaching, such as

information, utility, training of the senses and judgment, and of the

power to compare and classify.

For the accomplishment of this great purpose of gaining _insight_ into

nature's many-sided activities, there are several simple means not yet

mentioned. Running through nature are great principles and laws which

can be studied upon concrete examples, plain and interesting to a

child. The study of the squirrel in its home, habits, organs, and

natural activities in the woods, will show how strangely adapted it is

to its surroundings. But an observation of birds in the air and of

fishes in water reveals the same curious fitness to surrounding nature.

The study of plants and animals in their adaptation to environment, of

the relation between organ and function; between organs, mode of life,

and environment, leads up to a general law which applies to all plants

and animals. The law of growth and development from the simple germ to

the mature life form can be seen in the butterfly, the frog, and the

sunflower. These laws and others in biology, if developed on concrete

specimens, give much insight into the whole realm of nature, more

stimulating by far than that based on scientific classifications, as

orders, families and species. The great and simple outlines of

nature's work begin to appear out of such laws.

Again the study of the whole _life history_ of a plant or animal, in

its relations to the inorganic world and to other plants and animals,

is always a cross-section in the sciences and shows how all the natural

sciences are knit together into a causal unity. Take the life history

of a _hickory tree_. As it germinates and grows from the seed how it

draws from the earth and air; the effect of storms, seasons, and

lightning upon it; how it later furnishes nuts to the squirrels and

boys; its branches may be the nesting place for birds and its bark for

insects. Finally, the uses of its tough wood for man are seen. The

life of a squirrel or of a honey-bee furnishes also a cross-section

through all the sciences from the inorganic world up to man.

If in tracing life histories we take care to select _typical_ subjects

which exemplify perhaps thousands of similar cases, we shall materially

shorten the road leading toward insight into nature. These types are

concrete and have all the interest and attractiveness of individual

life, but they also bring out characteristics which explain myriads of

similar phenomena. A careful and detailed study of a single tree like

the maple, with the circulation of the sap and the function of roots,

bark, leaves, and woody fiber, will give an insight into the processes

of growth upon which the life of the tree depends and these processes

will easily appear to be true of all tree and plant forms.

In nature as it shows itself in the woods or in the pond, there is such

a _mingling and interdependence_ of the natural sciences upon each

other that the book of nature seems totally different from books of

botany, physics, and zoology as made by men. In the forest we find

close together trees of many kinds, shrubs, flowering plants, vines,

mosses, and ferns; grasses, beetles, worms, and birds; squirrels, owls

and sunshine; rocks, soil, and springs; summer and winter; storms,

frost, and drouth. Plants depend upon the soil and upon each other.

The birds and squirrels find their home and food among the trees and

plants. The trees seem to grow together as if they needed each other's

companionship. All the plants and animals depend upon the soil, air,

and climate, and the whole wood changes its garb and partly its guests

with the seasons. A forest is a _life society_, consisting of mutually

dependent parts. How nature disregards our conventional distinctions

between the natural sciences! We need no better proof than this that

they should not be taught chiefly from books. A child might learn a

myriad of things in the woods and gain much insight into nature's ways

without making any clear distinction between botany, zoology, and

geology. Herein is also the proof that text-books are needed as a

guide in nature's labyrinth. If the frequency and intimacy of mutual

relations are any proof of unity, the natural sciences are a unit and

have a right to be called by one name, _nature study_.

In the study of laws, life histories, and life groups, the _causal

relations_ in nature are found to be wonderfully stimulating to those

who have begun to trace them out. The child as well as the mature

scientist finds in these causal connections materials of absorbing

interest.

It is plain, therefore, that the lines tending toward unity in nature

study are numerous and strong; such as the scientific classifications

of our text-books, the working out of general laws whether in biology

or physics, the study of life histories in vegetable and animal, and

the observation of life societies in the close mutual relations of the

different parts or individuals.

If a course of nature studies is begun in the first grade and carried

systematically through all the years up to the eighth grade, is it not

reasonable to suppose that real insight into nature, based on

observation taken at first hand, may be reached? It will involve a

study of living plants and animals, minerals, physical apparatus and

devices, chemical experiments, the making of collections, regular

excursions for the observation of the neighboring fields, forests, and

streams, and the working over of these and other concrete experiences

from all sources through skillful class teaching.

The first great result to a child of such a series of studies is an

intelligent and rational understanding of his home, the world, his

natural environment. He will have a seeing eye and an appreciative

mind for the thousand things surrounding his daily life where the

ignorant toiler sees and understands nothing.

A second advantage which we can only hint at, while incidental is

almost equally important. We have been considering nature chiefly as a

realm by itself, apart from man. But the utilities of natural science

in individual life and in society are so manifold that we accept many

of the finest products of skill and art as if they were natural

products--as if gold coins, silk dresses, and fine pictures grew on the

bushes and only waited to be picked. The thousand-fold applications of

natural science to human industry and comfort deserve to be perceived

as _the result of labor and inventive skill_. Our much-lauded steam

engines, telegraph microscopes, sewing machines, reapers, iron ships,

and printing presses, are not examples of a few, but of myriads of

things that natural science has secured. But how many children on

leaving the common school understand the principle involved in any one

of the machines mentioned, subjects of common talk as they are? As

children leave the schools at fourteen or fifteen they should know and

appreciate many such things, wherein man, by his wit and ingenious use

of natures forces, has triumphed over difficulties. How are glass and

soap made? What has a knowledge of natural science to do with the

construction of stoves, furnaces, and lamps? How are iron, silver, and

copper ore mined and reduced? How is sugar obtained from maple trees,

cane, and beet root? How does a suction pump work and why? Without a

knowledge of such applications of natural science we should be thrown

back into barbarism. These things also, since they form such an

important part of every child's environment, should be understood, but

not for direct utility.

Historically considered, the study of natural science is the study of

man's long continued struggle with nature and of his gradual triumph.

It ends with insight into nature and into those contrivances of men by

which her laws and forces are utilized. The whole subject of nature,

her laws and powers, must not remain a sealed book to the masses of the

people. Scientists, inventors, and scholars may lead the way, but they

are only pioneers. The thousands of the children of the people are

treading at their heels and must be initiated into the mysteries.

Our knowledge of these principles and appliances constitute in fact a

good share of the foundation upon which our whole _culture status_

rests. Without natural science we should understand neither nature nor

society. Spencer shows the wide-reaching value of science knowledge in

our modern life: "For leaving out only some very small classes, what

are all men employed in? They are employed in the production,

preparation, and distribution of commodities. And on what does

efficiency in the production, preparation, and distribution of

commodities depend? It depends on the use of methods fitted to the

respective nature of these commodities, it depends on an adequate

knowledge of their physical, chemical, or vital properties, as the case

may be; that is, it depends on science. This order of knowledge which

is in great part ignored in our school courses, is the order of

knowledge underlying the right performance of all those processes by

which civilized life is made possible. Undeniable as is this truth,

and thrust upon us as it is at every turn, there seems to be no living

consciousness of it. Its very familiarity makes it unregarded. To

give due weight to our argument, we must therefore realize this truth

to the reader by a rapid review of the facts." He then illustrates, in

interesting detail, the varied applications of mathematics, physics,

chemistry, biology, and social science to the industries and economies

of real life, and concludes as follows: "That which our school courses

leave almost entirely out, we thus find to be that which most nearly

concerns the business of life. All our industries would cease were it

not for that information which men begin to acquire as they best may

after their education is said to be finished. And were it not for this

information that has been from age to age accumulated and spread by

unofficial means, these industries would never have existed. Had there

been no teaching but such as is given, in our public schools, England

would now be what it was in feudal times. That increasing acquaintance

with the laws of nature which has through successive ages enabled us to

subjugate nature to our needs, and in these days gives to the common

laborer comforts which a few centuries ago kings could not purchase, is

scarcely in any degree owed to the appointed means of instructing our

youth. The vital knowledge--that by which we have grown as a nation to

what we are, and which now underlies our whole existence--is a

knowledge that has got itself taught in nooks and corners, while the

ordained agencies for teaching have been mumbling little else but dead

formulas." Spencer, _Education_, pp. 44, 54.

Not only the specialists in natural science, whose interest and

enthusiasm are largely absorbed in these studies, but many other

energetic teachers are persuaded that the culture value of nature

studies is on a par with that of historical studies. But on account of

the present lack of system and of clear purpose in natural science

teachers, the first great problem in this field of common school effort

is to select the material and perfect the method of studying nature

with children.

Our estimate of the value of natural science for culture and for

discipline is confirmed by the opinion of educational _reformers_ and

by the changes and progress in schools. An inquiry into the history of

education in Europe and in America since the Reformation will show that

the movement towards nature study has been accumulating momentum for

more than three hundred years. In spite of the failure of such men as

Comenius, Ratich, Basedow, and Rousseau to secure the introduction of

these studies in a liberal degree, in spite of the enormous influence

of custom and prejudice in favor of Latin and other traditional

studies, the natural sciences have made recently such surprising

advances and have so penetrated and transformed our modern life that we

are simply compelled, even in the common school, to take heed of these

great, living educational forces already at work.

The _universities_ of England and of the United States have been

largely transformed within the last forty years by the introduction, on

a grand scale, of modern studies, particularly of the natural sciences.

The fitting schools, academies, and high schools have had no choice but

to follow this lead. Since the forces that produced this result in

higher education sprang up largely outside of our institutions of

learning, the movement is not likely to cease till the common school

has been changed in the same way. The educational question of the

future is not whether historical or natural science or formal studies

are to monopolize the school course, but rather how these three

indispensable elements of every child's education may be best

harmonized and wrought into a unit.

But the question that confronts us at every turn is, _What is the

disciplinary value of nature study_? We know, say the opponents, what

a vigorous training in ancient languages and mathematics can do for a

student. What results in this direction can the natural sciences

tabulate? The champions of natural science point with pride to the

great men who have been trained and developed in such studies. For

inductive thinking the natural sciences offer the best materials. To

cultivate self-reliance there is nothing like turning a student loose

in nature under a skilled instructor. The spirit of investigation and

of accurate thinking is claimed as a peculiar product of nature study.

It is called, _par excellence_, "the scientific spirit." The undue

reverence for authority produced by literary studies is not a weakness

of natural science pursuits. But intense interest and devotion are

combined with scientific accuracy and fidelity to nature and her laws.

We do not feel called upon to attempt a settlement of this dispute. We

have already assumed that _history_ in the broad sense (including

languages) and _natural science_ (or nature study) are the two great

staples of the common school course, and that so far as discipline is

concerned one is as important as the other. But we believe that those

educators whose first, middle, and last question in education is, "What

is the _disciplinary_ value of a study?" have mistaken the primary

problem of education. Just as in the proper training of the body, the

strength and skill of a professional athlete are, in no sense, the true

aim, but physical soundness, health, and vigor; so in mind culture, not

extraordinary skill in mental gymnastics of the severest sort, is the

essential aim, but mental soundness, integrity, and motive. The

under-lying question in education is not, How strong or incisive is his

mind? (This depends largely upon heredity and native endowment) but,

What is its quality and its temper? If might is right, then mental

strength is to be gained at all hazards. But if right is higher than

might, then mental skill and power are only secondary aims. So long as

we are dealing with fundamental aims in such a serious business as

education, why stop short of that ideal which is manifestly the best?

We have no controversy with the highest mental discipline and strength

that are consistent with all-round mental soundness. Our better

teachers are not lacking in appreciation for the value of what is

called _formal mental discipline_, but they do generally lack faith in

the innate power of the best studies to arouse interest and mental

life. They emphasize the _drill_ more than the _content_ and the

inspiration of the author. Both in theory and in practice they are

greatly lacking in the intellectual sympathy and moral power which

result from bringing the minds of students into direct contact with the

noblest products of God's work in history and in the object world.

Here we can put our finger on the radical weakness of our school work.

The really soul-inspiring teachers have not been formalists nor

drill-masters alone. Friedrich August Wolf, for example, the great

German philologist, was probably the most inspiring teacher of

classical languages that Germany has had. But to what was his

remarkable influence as a teacher of young men due? We usually think

of a philologist as one who digs among the roots of dead languages, who

worships the forms of speech and the laws of grammar. Doubtless he and

his pupils were much taken up with these things, but they were not the

prime source of his and their interest. Wolf defined philology as "the

knowledge of human nature as exhibited in antiquity." He studied with

great avidity everything that could throw light upon the lives,

character, and language of the ancients. Their biographies, histories,

geography, climate, dress, implements, their sculpture, monuments,

buildings, tombs. Approaching the literature and language of the

Greeks with this abundant knowledge of their real surroundings and

conditions of life, he saw the deeper, fuller significance of every

classical author and the great literary masterpieces were perceived as

the expression of the national life. He appreciated language as the

wonderful medium through which the more wonderful life of the versatile

Greek expressed itself. The reason he was such a great philologist was

because he was so great a realist, a man who was intensely interested

in the Greek people, their history and life. Words alone had little

charm for him. No great teacher has been simply a word-monger.

For the present we leave the question of discipline unanswered, though

we are disposed to think that those studies which introduce children to

the two great fields of real knowledge, and which arouse a strong

desire to solve the problems found there, will also furnish the most

valuable discipline.

The _formal studies_ such as reading, spelling, writing, language, and

much of arithmetic, have thus far appropriated the best share of school

time. They are the tools for acquiring and formulating knowledge

rather than knowledge itself. They are so indispensable in life that

people have acquired a sort of superstitious respect for them. They

are generally considered as of primary importance while other things

are taken as secondary. By virtue of this excessive estimation the

formal studies have become so strongly intrenched in the practice of

the schools that they are really a heavy obstacle to educational

progress. They have been so long regarded as the only gateway to

knowledge that anyone who tries to climb in some other way is regarded

as a thief and robber. We forget that Homer's great poems were

composed and preserved for centuries before letters were invented. As

more thought is expended on studies and methods of learning, the more

the thinkers are inclined to exactly reverse the educational machinery.

They say: "Thought studies must precede form studies." We should

everywhere begin with valuable and interesting thought materials in

history and natural science and let language, reading, spelling, and

drawing follow. It is a thing much more easily said than done, but

many active teachers are really doing it, and many others are wondering

how it may be done. The advantage of putting the concrete realities of

thought before children at first is that they give a powerful impetus

to mental life, while pure formal studies in most cases have a

deadening effect and gradually put a child to sleep. One of the great

problems of school work is how to get more interest and instructive

thought into school exercises.

We are now in a position to give a concluding estimate upon the

relative value of these three elements in school education. History

contributes the materials from which motives and moral impulses spring.

It cultivates and strengthens moral convictions by the use of inspiring

examples. The character of each child should be drawn into harmony

with the highest impulses that men have felt. A desire to be the

author of good to others should be developed into a practical ruling

motive. Natural science on the other hand supplies a knowledge of the

ordinary means and appliances by which the purposes of life are

realized. It gives us proper insight into the conditions of life and

puts us into intelligent relation to our environment. Not only must a

child be supplied with the necessaries of life but he must appreciate

the needs of health and understand the economies of society, such as

the necessity of mental and manual labor, the right use of the products

and forces of nature, and the advantage of men's inventions and

devices. In a plan of popular education these two culture elements

should mingle (history and natural science). In the case of all sorts

of people in society the ability to execute high moral purposes depends

largely upon a ready, practical insight into natural conditions. We

are not thinking of the bread-and-butter phase of life and of the aid

afforded by the sciences in making a living, but of the all-round,

practical utility of natural science as a necessary supplement to moral

training.

One of the best tests of a system of education is the preparation it

gives for life in a liberal sense. When a child, leaving school

behind, develops into a citizen, what tests are applied to him? The

questions submitted to his judgment in his relations to the family and

to society call for a quick and varied knowledge of men, insight into

character, and for a large amount of practical information of natural

science. He is asked to vote intelligently on social, political,

sanitary, and economic questions; to judge of men's motives, opinions,

and character; to vote upon or perhaps to direct the management of

poor-houses, asylums, and penitentiaries; in towns to decide questions

of drainage, police, water supply, public health, and school

administration; to make contracts for public buildings, and bridges; to

grant licenses and franchises; to serve on juries or as representatives

of the people. These are not professional matters alone; they are the

common duties of all citizens of a sound mind. These things each

person should know how to judge, whether he be a blacksmith, a

merchant, or a house keeper. In all such matters he must be not only a

judge of others but an actor under the guidance of right motives and

information. Again, in the bringing up of children, in the domestic

arrangements of every home and in a proper care for the minds and

bodies of both parents and children, a multitude of practical problems

from each of the great fields of real knowledge must be met and solved.

A medical missionary illustrates this combination of historical and

natural science elements. His life purpose is drawn from history, from

the life of Christ, and from the traditional incentives of the church.

The means by which he is to make himself practically felt are obtained

from his study of medicine and from the sciences upon which it depends.

These elements form the basis of his influence. This illustration

however savors of professional rather than of general education, and we

are concerned only with the latter. But the education of every child

is analogous to that of the medical missionary in its two constituent

elements.

As a matter of fact neither history nor natural science occupies any

such prominence in the school course as we have judged fitting. Much

thoughtful study, experience in teaching, and pioneer labor in

partially new fields will be necessary in order to bring into existence

such a course of study based upon the best materials. Many teachers

already recognize the necessity for it and see before them a land of

plenty as compared with the half-desert barrenness revealed in our

present school course.

Two powerful convictions in the minds of those responsible for

education have contributed to produce this desert-like condition in

children's school employments, and this brings us to a discussion of

the overestimation in which purely _formal studies_ are held. The

first article of faith rests upon the unshaken belief in the _practical

studies_, reading, writing, and arithmetic. They are still looked upon

as a barrier that must be scaled before the real work of education can

begin. Learn to read, write, and figure and then the world of

knowledge as well as of business is at your command. But many children

find the barrier so difficult to scale that they really never get into

the fields of knowledge. Many of our most thorough-going educators

still firmly believe that a child can not learn anything worth

mentioning till he has first learned to read. But however deeply

rooted this confidence in the purely formal work of the early school

years may be, it must break down as soon as means are devised for

putting the realities of interesting knowledge before and underneath

all the forms of expression. Let the necessity for expression spring

from the real objects of study. Those children to whom the memorizing

and drill upon forms of expression becomes tedious deserve our

sympathy. There is a kind of knowledge adapted to arouse these dull

ones to their full capacity of interest. "Or what man is there of you

whom if his son ask bread will he give him a stone?" With many a child

the first reader, the arithmetic, or the grammar becomes a veritable

stone. There is no good reason why the sole burden of work in early

school grades should rest upon the learning of the pure formalities of

knowledge. Children's minds are not adapted to an exclusive diet of

this kind. The fact that children have good memories is no reason why

their minds should be gorged with the dryest memory materials. They

have a healthy interest in people, whether in life or in story, and in

the objects in nature around them. What is thus pre-eminently true of

the primary grades is true to a large extent throughout all the grades

of the common school. It seems almost curious that the more tender the

plants the more barren and inhospitable the soil upon which they are

expected to grow. Fortunately these little ones have such an

exuberance of life that it is not easily quenched. Formal knowledge

stands first in our common school course and real studies are allowed

to pick up such crumbs of comfort as may chance to fall. We believe in

formal studies and in their complete mastery in the common school, but

they should stand in the place of service to real studies. How

powerful the tendency has been and still is toward pure formal drill

and word memory is apparent from the fact that even geography and

history, which are not at all formal studies, but full to overflowing

with interesting facts and laws, have been reduced to a dry memorizing

of words, phrases, and stereotyped sentences.

It is not difficult to understand why the numerous body of teachers,

who easily drift into mechanical methods, has a preference for formal

studies. They are comparatively easy and humdrum and keep pupils busy.

Real studies, if taught with any sort of fitness, require energy,

interest, and versatility, besides much outside work in preparing

materials.

The second article of faith is a still stronger one. The better class

of energetic teachers would never have been won over to formal studies

on purely utilitarian grounds. A second conviction weighs heavily in

their minds. "_The discipline of the mental faculties_" is a talisman

of unusual potency with them. They prize arithmetic and grammar more

for this than for any direct practical value. The idea of mental

discipline, of training the faculties, is so ingrained into all our

educational thinking that it crops out in a hundred ways and holds our

courses of study in the beaten track of formal training with a

steadiness that is astonishing. These friends believe that we are

taking the back-bone out of education by making it interesting. The

culmination of this educational doctrine is reached when it is said

that the most valuable thing learned in school or out of it is to do

and do vigorously that which is most disagreeable. The training of the

will to meet difficulties unflinchingly is their aim, and we can not

gainsay it. These stalwart apostles of educational hardship and

difficulty are in constant fear lest we shall make studies interesting

and attractive and thus undermine the energy of the will. But the

question at once arises: Does not the will always act from _motives_ of

some sort? And is there any motive or incentive so stimulating to the

will as a steady and constantly increasing _interest_ in studies? It

is able to surmount great difficulties.

We wish to assure our stalwart friends that we still adhere to the good

old doctrine that "there is no royal road to learning." There is no

way of putting aside the real difficulties that are found in every

study, no way of grading up the valleys and tunneling through the hills

so as to get the even monotony of a railroad track through the rough or

mountainous part of education. Every child must meet and master the

difficulties of learning for himself. There are no palace cars with

reclining chairs to carry him to the summit of real difficulties. The

_character-developing power_ that lies in the mastery of hard tasks

constitutes one of their chief merits. Accepting this as a fundamental

truth in education, the problem for our solution is, how to stimulate

children to encounter difficulties. Many children have little

inclination to sacrifice their ease to the cause of learning, and our

dull methods of teaching confirm them in their indifference to

educational incentives. Any child, who, like Hugh Miller or Abraham

Lincoln, already possesses an insatiable thirst for knowledge, will

allow no difficulties or hardships to stand in the way of progress.

This original appetite and thirst for knowledge which the select few

have often manifested in childhood is more valuable than anything the

schools can give. With the majority of children we can certainly do

nothing better than to nurture such a taste for knowledge into vigorous

life. It will not do to assume that the average of children have any

such original energy or momentum to lead them to scale the heights of

even ordinary knowledge. Nor will it do to rely too much upon a

_forcing process_, that is, by means of threats, severity, and

discipline, to carry children against their will toward the educational

goal.

"Be not like dumb driven cattle,

Be a hero in the strife"

is sound educational doctrine.

The thing for teachers to do is to cultivate in children all healthy

appetites for knowledge, to set up interesting aims and desires at

every step, to lead the approach to different fields of knowledge in

the spirit of conquest.

In the business world and in professional life men and women work with

abundant energy and will because they have desirable ends in view. The

hireling knows no such generous stimulus. Business life is full of

irksome and difficult tasks but the aim in view carries people through

them. We shall not eliminate the disagreeable and irksome from school

tasks, but try to create in children such a spirit and ambition as will

lead to greater exertions. To implant vigorous aims and incentives in

children is the great privilege of the teacher. We shall some day

learn that when a boy cracks a nut he does so because there may be a

kernel in it, not because the shell is hard.

In concluding the discussion of relative values we will summarize the

results.

_History_, in the liberal sense, surveys the field of human life in its

typical forms and furnishes the best illustrative moral materials.

_Nature study_ opens the door to the real world in all its beauty,

variety, and law. The _formal studies_ constitute an indispensable

part of useful and disciplinary knowledge, but they should occupy a

secondary place in courses of study because they deal with the _form_

rather than with the _content_ of the sciences. It is a fundamental

error to place formal studies in the center of the school course and to

subordinate everything to their mastery. History and natural science,

on the contrary, having the richest knowledge content, constitute a

natural center for all educative efforts. They make possible a strong

development of will-energy because their interesting materials furnish

strong and legitimate incentives to mental activity and an enlarged

field and opportunity to voluntary effort in pursuit of clear and

attractive aims.