CONCENTRATION.
By concentration is meant such a connection between the parts of each
study and such a spinning of relations and connecting links between
different sciences that unity may spring out of the variety of
knowledge. History, for example, is a series and collocation of facts
explainable on the basis of cause and effect, a development. On the
other hand, history is intimately related to geography, language,
natural science, literature, and mathematics. It would be impossible
to draw real history out by the roots without drawing all other studies
out bodily with it. Is there then any reason why school history should
ignore its blood relationships to other branches of knowledge?
Concentration is so bound up with the idea of _character-forming_ that
it includes more than school studies. It lays hold of _home
influences_ and all the experiences of life outside of school and
brings them into the daily service of school studies. It is just as
important to bind up home experience with arithmetic, language, and
other studies as it is to see the connection between geography and
history. In the end, all the knowledge and experience gained by a
person at home, at school, and elsewhere should be classified and
related, each part brought into its right associations with other parts.
Nor is it simply a question of throwing the varied sorts of _knowledge_
into a net-work of crossing and interwoven series so that the person
may have ready access along various lines to all his knowledge stores.
Concentration draws the _feelings_ and the _will_ equally into its
circle of operations. To imagine a character without feeling and will
would be like thinking a watch without a mainspring. All knowledge
properly taught generates feeling. The will is steadily laying out,
during the formative period of education, the highways of its future
ambitions and activities. Habits of willing are formed along the lines
of associated thought and feeling. The more feeling and will are
enlisted through all the avenues of study and experience, the more
permanent will be their influence upon character.
In attempting to solve the problem of concentration the question has
been raised whether a _single study_, the most important, of course,
should constitute a concentrating nucleus, like the hub in a wheel, or
whether _all studies_ and _experience_ are to be brought into an
organic whole of related parts. It is evident that history and natural
science at least hold a leading place among studies and determine to
some extent the selection of materials in reading and language lessons.
The _center_ for concentrating efforts in education is not so much the
knowledge given in any school course as the _child's mind_ itself. We
do not desire to find in the school studies a new center for a child's
life so much as the means for fortifying that original stronghold of
character which rests upon native mental characteristics and early home
influences. We have in mind not the objective unity of different
studies considered as complete and related sciences, nor any general
model to which each mind is to be conformed, but the practical union of
all the experiences and knowledge that find entrance into a particular
mind.
The _unity of the personality_ as gradually developed in a child by
wise education is essential to strength of character. Ackerman says on
this point, ("Ueber Concentration," p. 20.) "In behalf of character
development, which is the ultimate aim of all educative effort,
pedagogy requires of instruction that it aid in forming the _unity of
the personality_, the most primitive basis of character. In requiring
that the unity of the personality be formed it is presupposed that this
unity is not some original quality, but something to be first
developed. It remains for psychology to prove this and to indicate in
what manner the unity of the personality originates. Now, psychology
teaches that the personality, the ego, is not something original, but
something that must be first developed and is also changeable and
variable. The ego is nothing else than a psychological phenomenon,
namely, the consciousness of an interchange between the parts of an
extensive complex of ideas, or the reference of all our ideas and of
the other psychical states springing out of them to each other.
Experience teaches this. In infancy the ego, the personality, is
consciously realized in one person sooner, in another later. In the
different ages of life, also, the personality possesses a different
content. The deeper cause for the mutual reference of all our manifold
ideas to each other and for their union in a single point, as it were,
may be found in the _simplicity of the soul_, which constrains into
unity all things that are not dissociated by hindrance or
contradiction. The soul, therefore, in the face of the varied
influences produced by contact with nature and society, is active in
concentrating its ideas, so that with mental soundness as a basis, the
ego, once formed, in spite of all the transitions through which it may
pass, still remains the same."
There is then a natural _tendency_ of the mind _to unify_ all its
ideas, feelings, incentives. On the other hand the knowledge and
experiences of life are so varied and seemingly contradictory that a
young person, if left to himself or if subjected to a wrong schooling,
will seldom work his way to harmony and unity. In spite of the fact
that the soul is a simple unit and tends naturally to unify all its
contents, the common experience of life discovers in it unconnected and
even antagonistic thought and knowledge-centers. People are sometimes
painfully surprised to see how the same mind may be lifted by exalted
sentiments and depressed by the opposite. The frequent examples that
come to notice of men of superiority and virtue along certain lines,
who give way to weakness and wrong in other directions, are sufficient
evidence that good and evil may be systematically cultivated in the
same character, and that instead of unity and harmony education may
collect in the soul heterogeneous and warring elements which make it a
battle ground for life. All such disharmony and contradiction lend
inconsistency and weakness to character. Not only can incompatible
lines of thought and of moral action become established in the same
person, but even those studies which could be properly harmonized and
unified by education may lie in the mind so disjointed and unrelated as
to render the person awkward and helpless in spite of much knowledge.
In unifying the various parts of school education, and in bringing them
into close connection with children's other experiences, the school
life fulfills one of its chief duties.
Among other things tending toward consistency of character there must
be _harmony between the school and home_ life of a child. At home or
among companions, perhaps unknown to the teacher, a boy or girl may be
forming an habitual tendency and desire, more powerful than any other
force in his life, and yet at variance with the best influence of the
school. If possible the teacher should draw the home and school into a
closer bond so as to get a better grasp of the situation and of its
remedy. The school will fail to leave an effective impress upon such a
child unless it can get a closer hold upon the sympathies and thus
neutralize an evil tendency. It must league itself with better home
influences so as to implant its own impulses in home life. How to
unify home and school influences is one of those true and abiding
problems of education that appeals strongly and sympathetically to
parents and teachers.
Concentration evidently involves a solution of the question as to the
relative value of studies. All the light that the discussion of
_relative values_ can furnish will be needed in selecting the different
lines of appropriate study and in properly adjusting them to one
another. The theory of _interest_ will also aid us in this field of
investigation.
Accepting therefore the results of the two preceding chapters, that
history (in the broad sense) is the study which best cultivates moral
dispositions; secondly, that natural science furnishes the
indispensable insight into the external world, man's physical
environment; and, thirdly, that language, mathematics, and drawing are
but the formal side and expression of the two realms of real knowledge,
we have the _broad outlines_ of any true course of education. In more
definitely laying out the parts of this course the natural interests
and capacities of children in their successive periods of growth must
be taken into the reckoning. When a course of study has been laid out
on this basis, bringing the three great threads or cables of human
knowledge into proper juxtaposition at the various points, we shall be
ready to speak of the manner of really executing the plan of
concentration.
Even after the general plan is complete and the studies arranged, the
real work of concentration consists in _fixing the relations_ as the
facts are learned. Concentration takes for granted that the facts of
knowledge will be acquired. It is but half the problem to learn the
facts. The other half consists in understanding the facts by fixing
the relations. Most teachers will admit that each lesson should be a
collection of connected facts and that every science should consist of
a series of derivative and mutually dependent lessons. And yet the
study and mastery of arithmetic as a connection of closely related
principles is not generally appreciated. With proper reflection it is
not difficult to see that the facts of a single study like grammar or
botany should stand in close serial or causal relation. If they are
seen and fixed with a clear insight into these connections, by touching
the chain of associations at any point one may easily bring the whole
matter to remembrance.
Concentration, however, is chiefly concerned with the _relation of
different studies_ to each other. In this larger sense of an intimate
binding together of all studies and experience into a close network of
interwoven parts, concentration is now generally ignored by the
schools. In fact it would almost seem as if the purpose of teachers
were to make a clear separation of the different studies from one
another and to seal up each one in a separate bottle, as it were. The
_problem_ appears in two phases: 1. Taking the school studies as they
now are, is it desirable to pay more attention to the natural
connections between such studies as reading, geography, history, and
language, to open up frequent communicating avenues between the various
branches of educational work? 2. Or if concentration is regarded as
still more important, shall the subject matter of school studies be
rearranged and the lessons in different branches so adjusted to each
other that the number of close relations between them may be greatly
increased? Then with the intentional increase of such connecting links
would follow a more particular care in fixing them. We have assumed
the latter position, and claim that the whole construction of the
school course and the whole method of teaching should contribute
powerfully to the _unification_ of all the knowledge and experience in
each child's mind.
Without laying any undue stress upon simple knowledge, we believe that
a small amount of well articulated knowledge is more valuable than a
large amount of loose and fragmentary information. A small,
disciplined police force is able to cope with a large, unorganized mob.
"The very important principle here involved is that the value of
knowledge depends not only upon the _distinctness_ and _accuracy_ of
the ideas, but also upon the _closeness and extent of the relations_
into which they enter. This is a fundamental principle of education.
It was Herbart who said, 'Only those thoughts come easily and
frequently to the mind which have at some time made a strong impression
and which possess numerous connections with other thoughts.' And
psychology teaches that those ideas which take an isolated station in
the mind are usually weak in the impression they make, and are easily
forgotten. A fact, however important in itself, if learned without
reference to other facts, is quite likely to fade quickly from the
memory. It is for this reason that the witticisms, sayings, and
scattered pieces of information, which we pick up here and there, are
so soon forgotten. There is no way of bringing about their frequent
reproduction when they are so disconnected, for the reproduction of
ideas is largely governed by the law of association. One idea reminds
us of another closely related to it; this of another, etc., till a long
series is produced. They are bound together like the links of a chain,
and one draws another along with it just as one link of a chain drags
another after it. A mental image that is not one of such a series
cannot hope to come often to consciousness; it must as a rule sink into
oblivion, because the usual means of calling it forth are wanting."
(F. McMurry, "Relation of natural science to other studies.")
We are not conscious of the constant dependence of our thinking and
conversation upon the _law of association_. It may be frequently
observed in the familiar conversation of several persons in a company.
The simple mention of a topic will often suggest half a dozen things
that different ones are prompted to say about it, and may even give
direction to the conversation for a whole evening. Now if it is true
that ideas are more easily remembered and used if associated, let us
_increase the associations_. Why not bind all the studies and ideas of
a child as closely together as possible by natural lines of
association? Why not select for reading lessons those materials which
will throw added light upon contemporaneous lessons in history, botany,
and geography? Then if the reading lesson presents in detail the
battle of _King's Mountain_, take the pains to refer to this part of
the history and put this lesson into connection with historical facts
elsewhere learned. If a reading lesson gives a full description of the
_palm tree_, its growth and use, what better setting could this
knowledge find than in the geography of Northern Africa and the West
Indies?
The numerous associations into which ideas enter, without producing
confusion make them more _serviceable_ for every kind of use. "It is
only by associating thoughts closely that a person comes to possess
them securely and have command over them. One's reproduction of ideas
is then rapid enough to enable him to comprehend a situation quickly,
and form a judgment with some safety, his knowledge is all present and
ready for use; while on the other hand, one whose related thoughts have
never been firmly welded together reproduces slowly, and in consequence
is wavering and undecided. His knowledge is not at his command and he
is therefore weak." (F. McMurry.) The greater then the number of
clear mental relations of a fact to other facts in the same and in
other studies the more likely it is to render instant _obedience_ to
the will when it is needed. Such ready mastery of one's past
experiences and accumulations promotes confidence and power in action.
Concentration is manifestly designed to give strength and decision to
character. But a careless education by neglecting this principle, by
scattering the mind's forces over broad fields and by neglecting the
connecting roads and paths that should bind together the separate
fields, can actually undermine force and decision of character.
In later years when we consider the _results of school methods_ upon
our own character we can see the weakness of a system of education
which lacks concentration, a weakness which shows itself in a lack of
_retentiveness_ and of ability to use acquired knowledge. We are only
too frequently reminded of the loose and scrappy state of our acquired
knowledge by the ease with which it eludes the memory when it is
needed. To escape from this disagreeable consciousness in after years,
we begin to spy out a few of the mountain peaks of memory which still
give evidence of submerged continents. Around these islands we begin
to collect the wreckage of the past and the accretions of later study
and experience. A thoughtful person naturally falls into the habit of
collecting ideas around a few centers, and of holding them in place by
links of association. In American history, for instance, it is
inevitable that our knowledge becomes congested in certain important
epochs, or around the character and life of a few typical persons. The
same seems to be true also of other studies, as geography and even
geometry. The failure to acquire proper _habits of thinking_ is also
exposed by the experience of practical life. In life we are compelled
to see and respect the causal relations between events. We must
calculate the influences of the stubborn forces and facts around us.
But in school we often have so many things to learn that we have no
time to think. At least half the meaning of things lies not in
themselves, but in their relations and effects. Therefore, to get
ideas without getting their significant relations, is to encumber the
mind with ill-digested material. A sensible man of the world has
little respect for this kind of learning.
One reason why knowledge is so poorly understood and remembered is
because its _real application_ to other branches of knowledge, whether
near or remote, is so little observed and fixed. Looking back upon our
school studies we often wonder what botany, geometry, and drawing have
to do with each other and with our present needs. Each subject was so
compactly stowed away on a shelf by itself that it is always thought of
in that isolation,--like Hammerfest or the Falkland Islands in
geography,--out of the way places. Are the various sciences so
distinct and so widely separated in nature and in real life as they are
in school? An observant boy in the woods will notice important
relations between animals and plants, between plants, soil, and seasons
that are not referred to in the text-books. In a carpenter shop he
will observe relations of different kinds of wood, metals, and tools to
each other that will surprise and instruct him. In the real life of
the country or town the objects and materials of knowledge,
representing the sciences of nature and the arts of life, are closely
jumbled together and intimately dependent upon each other. The very
closeness of causal and local connections and the lack of orderly
arrangement shown by things in life make it necessary in schools to
classify and arrange into sciences. But it is a vital mistake to
suppose that the knowledge is complete when classified and learned in
this scientific form. Classification and books are but a faulty means
of getting a clear insight into nature and human life or society.
Knowledge should not only be mastered in its scientific classifications
but also constantly referred back to things as seen in practical life
and closely traced out and fixed in those connections. The vital
connections of different studies with each other are best known and
realized by the study of nature and society.
In later life we are convinced at every turn of the need of being able
to recognize and use knowledge _outside of its scientific connections_.
A lawyer finds many subjects closely mingled and causally related in
his daily business which were never mentioned together in textbooks.
The ordinary run of cases will lead him through a kaleidoscope of
natural science, human life, commerce, history, mathematics,
literature, and law, not to speak of less agreeable things. But the
same is true of a physician, merchant, or farmer, in different ways.
Shall we answer to all this that schools were never designed to teach
such things? They belong to professions or to the school of life, etc.
But it is not simply in professions and trades that we find this close
mingling and dependence of the most divergent sorts of knowledge, this
unscientific mixing of the sciences. Everywhere knowledge, however
well classified, is one-sided and misleading, which does not conform to
the conditions of real life. A wise _mother_ in her household has a
variety of problems to meet. From cellar to garret, from kitchen to
library, from nursery to drawing-room, her good sense must adapt all
sorts of knowledge to real conditions. In bringing up her children she
must understand physical and mental orders and disorders. She must
judge of foods and cooking, of clothing, as to taste, comfort, and
durability; of the exercises and employments of children, etc. Whether
she is conscious of it or not, she must mingle a knowledge of
chemistry, psychology, physiology, medicine, sanitation, the physics of
light and air, with the traditional household virtues in a sort of
universal solvent from which she can bring forth all good things in
their proper time and place. As Spencer says, education should be a
preparation for complete living; or, according to the old Latin maxim,
we learn _non scholae sed vitae_. The final test of a true mastery and
concentration of knowledge in the mind is the ability to use it readily
in the varied and tangled relations of actual experience.
We are accustomed to take refuge behind the so-called "mental
discipline" that results from studies, whether or not anything is
remembered that bears upon the relations of life. There are doubtless
certain formal habits of mind that result from study even though, like
Latin, it is cast aside as an old garment at the end of school days.
Transferring our argument then to this ground, is there any "habit of
thinking" more valuable than that _bent of mind_ which is not satisfied
with the mere memorizing of a fact but seeks to interpret its value by
judging of its influence upon other facts and their influence upon it?
No subject is understood by itself nor even by its relation to other
facts in the same science, but by its relation to the whole field of
knowledge and experience. Unless it can be proven that the study of
relations is above the schoolboy capacity, it is doubtful if there is
any mental habit so valuable at the close of school studies as the
disposition to _think_ and _ponder_, to trace relations. The relations
which are of interest and vital importance are those which in daily
life bind all the realms of science into a network of causally
connected parts.
The multiplication of studies in the common school in recent years will
soon compel us to pay more attention to concentration or the mutual
relation of knowledges. There is a resistless tendency to convert the
course of studies into an _encyclopedia_ of knowledge. To perceive
this it is only necessary to note the new studies incorporated into the
public school within a generation. Drawing, natural science,
gymnastics, and manual training are entirely new, while language
lessons, history, and music have been expanded to include much that is
new for lower grades. Still other studies are even now seeking
admission, as modern languages, geometry, and sewing. In spite of all
that has been said by educational reformers against making the
acquisition of knowledge the basis of education, the range and variety
of studies has been greatly extended and chiefly through the influence
of the reformers. This expansive movement appears in schools of all
grades. The secondary and fitting schools and the universities have
spread their branches likewise over a much wider area of studies. We
are in the full sweep of this movement along the whole line and it has
not yet reached its flood.
The _simplicity_ of the old course both in the common school and in
higher institutions is in marked contrast to the present multiplicity.
It was a narrow current in which education used to run, but it was deep
and strong. In higher institutions the mastery of Latin and of Latin
authors was the _sine qua non_. In the common school arithmetic was
held in almost equal honor. Strong characters have often been
developed by a narrow and rigid training along a single line of duty as
is shown in the case of the Jesuits, the Humanists, and the more recent
devotees of natural science.
As contrasted with this, the most striking feature of our public
schools now is their _shallow and superficial_ work. It is probable
that the teaching in lower grades is better than ever before, but as
the tasks accumulate in the higher grades there is a great amount of
smattering. The prospect is, however, that this disease will grow
worse before a remedy can be applied. The first attempt to cultivate
broader and more varied fields of knowledge in the common school must
necessarily exhibit a shallow result. Teachers are not familiar with
the new subjects, methods are not developed, and the proper adjustments
of the studies to each other are neglected. No one who is at all
familiar with our present status will claim that drawing, natural
science, geography, and language are yet properly adjusted to each
other. The task is a difficult one, but it is being grappled with by
many earnest teachers.
It is obvious that the first serious effort to _remedy_ this
shallowness will be made by deepening and intensifying the culture of
the new fields. The knowledge of each subject must be made as complete
and detailed as possible. Well-qualified teachers and specialists will
of course accomplish the most. They will zealously try to teach all
the important things in each branch of study. But where is the limit?
The capacity of children! And it will not be long before
philanthropists, physicians, reformers, and all the friends of mankind
will call a decisive halt. Children were not born simply to be stuffed
with knowledge, like turkeys for a Christmas dinner.
It appears, therefore, that we must steer between Scylla and Charybdis,
or that we are in a first-class educational _dilemma_. This conviction
is strengthened by the reflection that there is no escape from fairly
facing the situation. Having once put our hand to the plow we can not
look back. The common school course has greatly expanded in recent
years and there is no probability that it will ever contract. It has
expanded in response to proper universal educational demands. For we
may fairly believe that most of the studies recently incorporated into
the school course are essential elements in the education of every
child that is to grow up and take a due share in our society. It is
too late to sound the retreat. The educational reformers have battled
stoutly for three hundred years for just the course of study that we
are now beginning to accept. The edict can not be revoked, that every
child is entitled to an harmonious and equable development of all its
human powers, or as Herbart calls it, a harmonious culture of
many-sided interests. The nature of every child imperatively demands
such broad and liberal culture, and the varied duties and
responsibilities of the citizen make it a practical necessity. No
narrow, one-sided culture will ever equip a child to act a just part in
the complex social, political, and industrial society of our time. But
the demand for _depth_ of knowledge is just as imperative as that for
_comprehensiveness_.
It is clear that two serious _dangers_ threaten the quality of our
education: First, loose and shallow knowledge; second, overloading with
encyclopedic knowledge. What can concentration do to remedy the one
and check the other? The _cure_ for these two evils will be found in
so adjusting the studies to each other, in so building them into each
other, as to secure a mutual support. The study of a topic not only as
it is affected by others in the same subject, but also by facts and
principles in other studies, as an antidote against superficial
learning. In tracing these causal relations, in observing the
resemblances and analogies, the interdependence of studies, as
geography, history, and natural science, a thoughtfulness and clearness
of insight are engendered quite contrary to loose and shallow study.
Secondly, concentration at once discards the idea of encyclopedic
knowledge as an aim of school education. It puts a higher estimate
upon related ideas and a lower one upon that of complete or
encyclopedic information. All the cardinal branches of education
indeed shall be taught in the school, but only the _essential_, the
_typical_, will be selected and an exhaustive knowledge of any subject
is out of the question. Concentration will put a constant check upon
over-accumulation of facts, and will rather seek to strengthen an idea
by association with familiar things than to add a new fact to it. No
matter how thorough and enthusiastic a specialist one may be, he is
called upon to curtail the quantity of his subject and bring it into
proper dependence upon other studies.
_Historically_ considered the principle of concentration has been
advocated and emphasized by many writers and teachers. The most
striking and decided attempt to apply it was made by Jacotot in the
first quarter of this century and had great success in France. Mr.
Joseph Payne, in interpreting Jacotot (Lectures on the Science and Art
of Ed. p. 339), lays down as his main precept, "_Learn something
thoroughly and refer everything else to it._" He emphasized above
everything else _clearness_ of insight and _connection_ between the
parts of knowledge. It was principally applied to the study of
languages and called for perfect memorizing by incessant repetition and
rigid questioning by the teacher to insure perfect understanding, in
the first instance, of new facts acquired; and secondly, firm
association with all previous knowledge. Jacotot and his disciples
reached notable results by an heroic and consistent application of this
principle and some of our present methods in language are based upon
it. But on the whole the principle was only partially and mechanically
applied. Its aim was primarily intellectual, even linguistic, not
moral. There was no philosophical effort made to determine the
relative value of studies and thus find out what study or series of
studies best deserved to take the leading place in the school course.
The importance of _interest_, as a means of rousing mental vigor and as
a criterion for selecting concentrating materials suited to children at
different ages, was overlooked.
A kind of concentration has long been practiced in Germany and to a
considerable extent in our own schools which is known as the
_concentric circles_.
In our schools it is illustrated by the treatment of geography,
grammar, and history. In beginning the study of geography in the third
or fourth grade it has been customary to outline the whole science in
the first primary book. The earth as a whole and its daily and yearly
motion, the chief continents and oceans, the general geographical
notions, mountain, lake, river, etc., are briefly treated by definition
and illustration. Having completed this general framework of
geographical knowledge during the first year, the second year, or at
least the second book, takes up the _same round of topics_ again and
enters into a somewhat fuller treatment of continents, countries,
states, and political divisions. The last two years of the common
school may be spent upon a large, complete geography; which, with
larger, fuller maps and more names, gives also a more detailed account
of cities, products, climate, political divisions, and commerce.
Finally, physical geography is permitted to spread over much the same
ground from a natural-science standpoint, giving many additional and
interesting facts and laws concerning zones, volcanoes, ocean-beds and
currents, atmospheric phenomena, geologic history, etc. The same
earth, the same lands and oceans, furnish the outline in each case, and
we travel over the same ground three or four times successively, each
time adding new facts to the original nucleus. There is an old proverb
that "repetition is the mother of studies," and here we have a
systematic plan for repetition, extending through the school course,
with the advantage of new and interesting facts to add to the grist
each time it is sent through the mill. It is an attractive plan at
first sight, but if we appeal to experience, are we not reminded rather
that it was dull repetition of names, boundaries, map questions,
location of places, etc., and after all not much detailed knowledge was
gained even in the higher grades? Again, is it not contrary to reason
to begin with definitions and general notions in the lower grades and
end up with the interesting and concrete in the higher?
In language lessons and grammar it has been customary to learn the
kinds of sentence and the parts of speech in a simple form in the third
and fourth grades and in each succeeding year to review these topics,
gradually enlarging and expanding the definitions, inflections, and
constructions into a fuller etymology and syntax. In United States
history we are beginning to adopt a similar plan of repetitions, and
the frequent reviews in arithmetic are designed to make good the lack
of thoroughness and mastery which should characterize each successive
grade of work. The course of religious instruction given in European
schools is based upon the same reiteration year by year of essential
religious ideas. The whole plan, as illustrated by different studies,
is based upon a successive enlargement of a subject in concentric
circles with the implied constant repetition and strengthening of
leading ideas. A framework of important notions in each branch is kept
before the mind year after year, repeated, explained, enlarged, with
faith in a constantly increasing depth of meaning. There is no doubt
that under good teaching the principle of the concentric circles
produces some excellent fruits, a mastery of the subject, and a
concentration of ideas within the limits of a single study.
The disciples of Herbart, while admitting the merits of the concentric
circles, have subjected the plan to a severe _criticism_. They say it
begins with general and abstract notions and puts off the interesting
details to the later years, while any correct method with children will
take the interesting particulars first, will collect abundant concrete
materials, and by a gradual process of comparison and induction reach
the general principles and concepts at the close. It inevitably leads
to a dull and mechanical repetition instead of cultivating an
interesting comparison of new and old and a thoughtful retrospect. It
is a clumsy and distorted application of the principle of apperception,
of going from the known to the unknown. Instead of marching forward
into new fields of knowledge with a proper basis of supplies in
conquered fields, it gleans again and again in fields already
harvested. For this reason it destroys a proper interest by hashing up
the same old ideas year after year. Finally the concentric circles are
not even designed to bring the different school studies into relation
to each other. At best they contribute to a more thorough mastery of
each study. They leave the separate branches of the course isolated
and unconnected, an aggregation of unrelated thought complexes. True
concentration should leave them an organic whole of intimate
knowledge-relations, conducing to strength and unity of character.
There is a growing conviction among teachers that we need a closer
_articulation_ of studies with one another. The expansion of the
school course over new fields of knowledge and the multiplication of
studies already discussed compels us to seek for a simplification of
the course. A hundred years ago, yes, even fifty years ago, it was
thought that the extension of our territory and government to the
present limits would be impossible. It was plainly stated that one
government could never hold together people so widely separated. Mr.
Fiske says: (The Critical Period of Am. Hist., p. 60) "Even with all
other conditions favorable, it is doubtful if the American Union could
have been preserved to the present time without the railroad.
Railroads and telegraphs have made our vast country, both for political
and for social purposes, more snug and compact than little Switzerland
was in the middle ages or New England a century ago." The analogy
between the realm of government and of knowledge is not at all complete
but it suggests at least the change which is imperatively called for in
education. In education as well as in commerce there must be trunk
lines of thought which bring the will as monarch of the mind into close
communication with all the resources of knowledge and experience.
Indeed in the mind of a child or of an adult there is much stronger
necessity for centralization than in the government and commerce of a
country. The will should be an undisputed monarch of the whole mental
life. It is the one center where all lines of communication meet.
London is not so perfect a center for the commerce and finance of
England as is the conscious _ego_ (smaller than a needle's point) for
all its forms of experience.
Besides the central trunk lines of knowledge in history and natural
science there are branches of study which are _tributary_ to them,
which serve also as connecting chains between more important subjects.
Reading, for instance, is largely a relative study. Not only is the
art of reading merely a preparation for a better appreciation of
history, geography, arithmetic, etc., but even the subject-matter of
reading lessons is now made largely tributary to other studies. The
supplementary readers consist exclusively of interesting matter bearing
upon geography, history, and natural science. It is a fact that
reading is becoming more and more a relative study, and selections are
regularly made to bear on other school work. Geography especially
serves to establish a network of connections between other kinds of
knowledge. It is a very important supplement to history. In fact
history cannot dispense with its help. Geography lessons are full of
natural science, as with plants, animals, rocks, climate, inventions,
machines, and races. Indeed there are few if any school studies which
should not be brought into close and important relations to geography.
Again the more important historical and scientific branches not only
receive valuable aid from the tributary studies but they abundantly
supply such aid in return. Language lessons should receive all their
subject-matter from history and natural science. While the language
lessons are working up such rich and interesting materials for purposes
of oral and written language, the more important branches are also
illustrated and enriched by the new historical and scientific subjects
thus incidentally treated.
An examination of these mutual relations and courtesies between studies
may discover to us the fact that we are now unconsciously or
thoughtlessly _duplicating_ the work of education to a surprising
extent. For example, by isolating language lessons and cutting them
off from communication with history, geography, and natural science, we
make a double or triple series of lessons necessary where a single
series would answer the purpose. Moreover, by excluding an interesting
subject-matter derived from other studies, the interest and mental life
awakened by language lessons are reduced to a minimum. Interest is not
only awakened by well selected matter taken from other branches but the
relationships themselves between studies, whether of cause and effect
as between history and geography, or of resemblance as between the
classifications in botany and grammar--the relations themselves are
matters of unusual interest to children.
Many teachers have begun to realize in some degree the value of these
relations, their effect in enlivening studies, and the better
articulation of all kinds of knowledge in the mind. But as yet all
attempts among us to properly relate studies are but weak and
ineffective approaches toward the solution of the great problem of
concentration. The links that now bind studies together in our work
are largely accidental and no great stress has been laid upon their
value, but if concentration is grappled with in earnest it involves
_relations at every step_. Not only are the principal and tributary
branches of knowledge brought into proper conjunction, but there is
constant forethought and afterthought to bring each new topic into the
company of its kindred, near and remote. The mastery of any topic or
subject is not clear and satisfactory till the grappling hooks that
bind it to the other kinds of knowledge are securely fastened.
Concentration on a large scale and with consistent thoroughness has
been attempted in recent years by the scholars and teachers of the
_Herbart school_. It is based upon moral character as the highest aim,
and upon a correlation of studies which attributes a high moral value
to historical knowledge and consequently places a series of historical
materials in the center of the school course. The ability of the
school to affect moral character is not limited to the personal
influence of the teacher and to the discipline and daily conduct of the
children; but instruction itself, by illustrating and implanting moral
ideas, and by closely relating all other kinds of knowledge to the
historical series, can powerfully affect moral tendency and strength.
If historical matter of the most interesting and valuable kind be
selected for the central series, and the natural sciences and formal
studies be closely associated with it, there will be harmony and union
between the culture elements of the school course.
THE CULTURE EPOCHS.
The problem that confronts us at the outset, when preparing a plan of
concentration, is _how to select_ the best historical (moral educative)
materials, which are to serve as the central series of the course. The
_culture epochs_ (cultur-historische Stufen) are, according to the
Herbartians, the key to the situation. (This subject was briefly
discussed under _Interest_.)
According to the theory of the _culture epochs_, the child, in its
growth from infancy to maturity, is an epitome of the world's history
and growth in a profoundly significant sense for the purpose of
education. From the earliest history of society and of arts, from the
first simple family and tribal relations, and from the time of the
primitive industries, there has been a series of upward steps toward
our present state of culture (social, political, and economic life).
Some of the periods of progress have been typical for different nations
or for the whole race; for example, the stone age, the age of
barbarism, the age of primitive industries, the age of nomads, the
heroic age, the age of chivalry, the age of despotism, the age of
conquest, wars of freedom, the age of revolution, the commercial age,
the age of democracy, the age of discovery, etc. What relation the
leading epochs of progress in the race bear to the steps of change and
growth in children, has become a matter of great interest in education.
The assumption of the _culture epochs_ is that the growth of moral and
secular ideas in the race, represented at its best, is similar to their
growth in children, and that children may find in the representative
historical periods select materials for moral and intellectual nurture
and a natural access to an understanding of our present condition of
society. The culture epochs are those representative periods in
history which are supposed to embody the elements of culture suited to
train the young upon in their successive periods of growth. Goethe
says, "Childhood must always begin again at the first and pass through
the epochs of the world's culture." Herbart says, "The whole of the
past survives in each of us," and again, "The receptivity (of the
child) changes continually with progress in years. It is the function
of the teacher to see to it that these modifications advance steadily
in agreement with these changes (in the world's history)." Ziller has
attempted more fully to "justify this culture-historical course of
instruction on the ground of a certain _predisposition_ of the child's
mental growth for this course." Again, "We are to let children pass
through the culture development of mankind with accelerated speed."
Herbart says, "The treasure of advice and warning, of precept and
principle, of transmitted laws and institutions, which earlier
generations have prepared and handed down to the latter, belongs to the
strongest of psychological forces." That is, choice historical
illustrations produce a weighty effect upon the minds of children, if
selected from those epochs which correspond to a child's own periods of
growth.
The culture epochs imply _an intimate union between history and natural
science_, the two main branches of knowledge, at every step. The
isolation between these studies, which has often appeared and is still
strong, is unnatural and does violence to the unity of education
historically considered. Men at all times have had physical nature in
and around them. Every child is an intimate blending of historical and
physical (natural science) elements. The culture epochs illustrate a
_constant change and expansion of history and natural science_ together
and in harmony (despite the conflict between them). As men have
progressed historically and socially from age to age their
interpretation of nature has been modified with growing discovery,
insight, invention, and utilization of her resources. Children also
pass through a series of metamorphoses which are both physical and
psychological, changing temper and mental tendency as the body
increases in vigor and strength.
The culture epochs, by beginning well back in history, with those early
epochs which correspond to a child's early years and tracing up the
steps of progress in their origin and growth, pave the way for a clear
insight into our present state of culture, which is a complex of
historical and natural science elements. It is comparatively easy for
us to see that to understand the present political, economic, and
social conditions of the United States we are compelled to go back to
the early settlements with their simple surroundings and slowly trace
up the growth and increasing complexity of government, religion,
commerce, manufactures, and social life. The theory of the culture
epochs implies that the child began where primitive man began, feels as
he felt, and advances as he advanced, only with more rapid strides;
that as his physique is the hereditary outcome of thousands of years of
history, and his physical growth the epitome of that development, so
his mental progress is related to the mind progress of his ancestry.
They go still further and assume that the subject-matter of the leading
epochs is so well adapted to the changing phases and impulses of child
life that there is a strong predisposition in children in favor of this
course, and that the series of historical object lessons stirs the
strongest intellectual and moral interests into life.
As a _theory_ the culture epochs may seem too loose and unsubstantial
to serve as the basis for such a serious undertaking as the education
of children to moral character. There is probably no exact agreement
as to what the leading epochs of the world's history are, nor of the
true order of succession even of those epochs which can be clearly
seen. The value of this theory is rather in its suggestiveness to
teachers in their efforts to select suitable historical materials for
children not in any exact order but approximately. So far as we are
informed no one has yet tried to prove, in logical form, the necessary
correspondence between the epochs of history and the periods of growth
in children. It is rather an instinct which has been felt and
expressed by many great writers. The real test of the value of this
theory is not so much in a positive argument as in a general survey of
the educational materials furnished by the historical epochs, and an
experimental use of them in schools to see whether they are suited to
the periods of child growth.
There are, however, certain _limits_ to the theory of race progress
that need to be drawn at once. It is easy to perceive that not all
races have left such epochs behind them, because some are still in
barbarism; others have advanced to a considerable height and then
retrograded. Of those which have advanced with more or less steadiness
for two thousand years, like England, France, and Germany, not every
period of their history contains valuable culture elements. The great
epochs are not clearly distinguishable in their origin and ending.
Again, only those periods whose deeds, spirit, and tendency have been
well preserved by history or, still better, have found expression in
the work of some great poet or literary artist, can supply for children
the best educative material.
The culture epochs of history can be of no service to us in schools
except as they have been suitably _described_ by able writers. In
history and literature, as handed down to us by the great literary
artists, many of the culture epochs have been portrayed by a master
hand. In the Iliad, Homer gives us vivid and delightfully attractive
scenes from life in the heroic age. The historical parts of the Old
Testament furnish clear and classic expression to great typical
historical scenes as illustrated in the lives of Abraham, Joseph,
Moses, Joshua, David, and Solomon. The chief poets have expended a
full measure of their art in presenting to posterity attractive events
from striking epochs of the world's history. Homer, Virgil, Dante,
Tennyson, and Longfellow have left for us such historical paintings as
the Iliad, Odyssey, the Aeneid, the Divine Comedy, Idyls of a King,
Miles Standish, etc. Some of the best historians also have described
such epochs of history in scarcely less attractive form. Xenophon's
Anabasis, Livy's Punic Wars, Plutarch's Lives, Caesar's Gallic Wars,
the best biographies of Charlemagne, Columbus, Luther, Cromwell,
Washington, are designed to give us a clear view of some of the great
typical characters and events of history. Some of the leading
novelists and imaginative writers in prose have performed a like
service. Hypatia, Ivanhoe, Last Days of Pompeii, Romola, Uarda, and
Robinson Crusoe are examples. The story of Siegfried, of King Arthur,
of Bayard, of Tell, of Bruce, of Alfred, and the heroic myths of
Greece, all bring out representative figures of the mythical age.
The typical epochs of the world's struggle and progress are reflected,
therefore, in the _literary masterpieces_ of great writers, whether
poets, historians, biographers, or novelists. The simplest and
choicest of these literary and historical materials, selected,
arranged, and adapted for children, have been regarded by some thinkers
as the strongest and best meat that can be supplied to children during
their periods of growth. The history of each nation that has had a
progressive civilization contains some such elements and masterpieces.
It would be fortunate for each nation if it could find first in its own
history all such leading epochs and corresponding materials. Then it
could draw upon the historical and literary resources of other
countries to complete and round out the horizon of thought.
Since the best materials selected from history are calculated to build
a strong foundation of moral ideas and sentiments, this carefully
selected _historical series_ of studies has been chosen as the basis
for a concentration of all the studies of the school course. Ziller,
as a disciple of Herbart, was the first to lay out a course of study
for the common school with history materials as a central series, based
upon the idea of the culture epochs. Since religious instruction drawn
from the Old and New Testament has always been an important study in
German schools, he established a double historical series. The first
was scriptural, representing the chief epochs of Jewish and Christian
history from the time of Abraham to the Reformation; the second was
national German history from the early traditional stories of Thuringia
and the Saxon kings down to the Napoleonic wars and the entry of
Emperor William into Paris in 1871. It should be remarked that in the
first and second grade religious instruction does not appear in regular
form, but in devotional exercises, Christmas stories, etc. Fairy
stories and Robinson Crusoe are the chief materials used in the first
and second grades, so that the regular historical series begin in the
third.
The two lines of religious and secular history are designed to
illustrate for each grade corresponding epochs of national history,
both Jewish and German. The parallel series stand as follows:
Religious. Secular.
1st Grade. Fairytales.
2nd Grade. Robinson Crusoe.
3d Grade. The patriarchs, Stories of Thuringia.
Abraham, Joseph, Moses.
4th Grade. Judges and Kings. The Nibelungen Song,
Samuel, Saul, David, Siegfried.
Solomon.
5th Grade. Life of Christ. Henry I., Charlemagne,
Boniface, Armenius.
6th Grade. Life of Christ. Teutonic migrations,
Crusades, Attila, Barbarossa,
Rudolph.
7th Grade. Life of Paul. Discovery of America,
Reformation, Thirty Years'
War.
8th Grade. Life of Luther. Frederick the Great, Wars
against Napoleon, William I.
The above outline is Ziller's plan, modified by Professor Rein.
In each grade is selected a body of classical or choice historical
materials, representing a great period of German as well as of Jewish
or Christian life, and especially suited to interest and instruct
children, while illustrating moral ideas and deepening moral
convictions. The body of historical narrative selected for any one
grade is calculated to form a _center_ or nucleus for concentrating all
the studies of that year. Reading, language, geography, drawing,
music, and arithmetic largely spring out of and depend upon this
historical center, while they are also bound to each other by many
links of connection. A full course for the eight grades of the common
school, with this double historical series as a nucleus, has been
carefully worked out and applied by Professor Rein and his associates.
It has been applied also with considerable success in a number of
German schools.
This great undertaking has had to run the gauntlet of a severe
_criticism_. Its fundamental principles, as well as its details of
execution, have been sharply questioned. But a long-continued effort,
extending through many years, by able and thoroughly-equipped teachers,
to solve one of the greatest problems of education, deserves careful
attention. The general theory of concentration, the selection and
value of the materials, the previous history of method, and the best
present method of treating each subject, with detailed illustrations,
are all worked out with great care and ability.
The Jewish and German historical materials, which are made the
moral-educative basis of the common school course by the Herbartians,
can be of no service to us except by way of example. Neither sacred
nor German history can form any important part of an American course of
study. Religious instruction has been relegated to the church, and
German history touches us indirectly if at all. The epochs of history
from which American schools must draw are chiefly those of the United
States and Great Britain. France, Germany, Italy, and Greece may
furnish some collateral matter, as the story of Tell, of Siegfried, of
Alaric, and of Ulysses; but some of the leading epochs must be those of
our own national history.
Has the _English-speaking race_ in North America passed through a
series of historical epochs which, on account of their moral-educative
worth, deserve to stand in the center of a common school course? Is
this history adapted to cultivate the highest moral and intellectual
qualities of children as they advance from year to year? There are
few, if any, single nations whose history could furnish a favorable
answer to this question. The English in America began their career so
late in the world's history and with such advantages of previous
European culture that several of the earlier historical epochs are not
represented in our country. But perhaps Great Britain and Europe will
furnish the earlier links of a chain whose later links were firmly
welded in America.
The _history of our country_ since the first settlements less than
three hundred years ago is by far the best epitome of the world's
progress in its later phases that the life of any nation presents. On
reaching the new world the settlers began a hand-to-hand,
tooth-and-nail conflict with hard conditions of climate, soil, and
savage. The simple basis of physical existence had to be fought for on
the hardest terms. The fact that everything had to be built up anew
from small beginnings on a virgin soil gave an opportunity to trace the
rise of institutions from their infancy in a Puritan dwelling or in a
town meeting till they spread and consolidated over a continent. In
this short time the people have grown from little scattered settlements
to a nation, have experienced an undreamed-of material expansion; have
passed through a rapid succession of great political struggles, and
have had an unrivaled evolution of agriculture, commerce, manufactures,
inventions, education, and social life. All the elements of society,
material, religious, political, and social have started with the day of
small things and have grown up together.
There is little in our history to appeal to children below the fourth
grade, that is, below ten years; but from the beginning of the fourth
grade on, American history is rich in moral-educative materials of the
best quality and suited to children. We are able to distinguish _four
principal epochs_: 1. The age of pioneers, the ocean navigators, like
Columbus, Drake, and Magellan, and the explorers of the continent like
Smith, Champlain, LaSalle, and Fremont. 2. The period of settlements,
of colonial history, and of French and Indian wars. 3. The Revolution
and life under the Articles of Confederation till the adoption of the
Constitution. 4. Self-government under the Union and the growth and
strengthening of the federal idea. While drawing largely upon general
history for a full and detailed treatment of a few important topics in
each of these epochs, we should make a still more abundant use of the
_biographical_ and _literary_ materials furnished by each. The
concentration of school studies, with a historical series suggested by
the culture epochs as a basis, would utilize our American history,
biography, and literature in a manner scarcely dreamed of heretofore.
We shall attempt to illustrate briefly this concentration of studies
about materials selected from one of the culture epochs. Take, for
example, _the age of pioneers_ from which to select historical
subject-matter for children of the fourth and fifth grades. It
comprehends the biographies of eminent navigators and explorers,
pioneers on land and sea. It describes the important undertakings of
Columbus, Magellan, Cabot, Raleigh, Drake, and others, who were daring
leaders at the great period of maritime discovery. The pioneer
explorers of New England and the other colonies bring out strongly
marked characters in the preparatory stage of our earliest history.
Smith, Champlain, Winthrop, Penn, Oglethorpe, Stuyvesant, and
Washington are examples. In the Mississippi valley De Soto, La Salle,
Boone, Lincoln, and Robertson, are types. Still farther west Lewis and
Clarke, and the pioneers of California complete this historical epoch
in a series of great enterprises. Most of them are pioneers into new
regions beset with dangers of wild beasts, savages, and sickness. A
few are settlers, the first to build cabins and take possession of land
that was still claimed by red men and still covered with forests. The
men named were leaders of small bands sent out to explore rivers and
forests or to drive out hostile claimants at the point of the sword.
Any one who has tried the effect of these stories upon children of the
fourth grade will grant that they touch a deep native _interest_. But
this must be a genuine and permanent interest to be of educative value.
The _moral quality_ in this interest is its virtue. Standish, Boone,
La Salle, and the rest were stalwart men, whose courage was keenly and
powerfully tempered. They were leaders of men by virtue of moral
strength and superiority. Their deeds have the stamp of heroism and in
approving them the moral judgments of children are exercised upon noble
material. These men and stories constitute an epoch in civilization
because they represent that stage which just precedes the first form of
settled society. In fact some of the stories fall in the transition
stage, where men followed the plow and wielded the woodman's axe, or
turned to the war-path as occasion required. In every part of the
United States there has been such a period, and something corresponding
to it in other countries. We are prepared to assume, therefore, that
these historical materials arouse a strong interest, implant moral
ideas, and illustrate a typical epoch. They are also very _real_.
These men, especially the land pioneers, were our own predecessors,
traversing the same rivers, forests, and prairies where we now live and
enjoy the fruits of their hardihood and labor.
Let us suppose that such a historical series of stories has its due
share of time on the school program and that the stories are properly
presented by the teacher and orally reproduced by the pupils. Into
what _relations_ shall the other studies of the school enter to these
historical materials? How shall language, reading, geography, natural
science, and arithmetic be brought into the close relation to history
required by the idea of concentration.
The oral reproduction of the stories by the children is the best
possible _oral language_ drill, while their partial written review is
the basis of much of the regular _composition_ work. Language lessons
on isolated and unconnected topics can thus be entirely omitted. The
element of interest will be added to oral and written language lessons
by the use of such lively stories.
_Reading_ is chiefly tributary to the historical series. Such
selections should be made for reading lessons as will throw additional
light upon pioneer history and its related geography. Descriptions of
natural scenery and choice selections from our best historians, as
Irving and Bancroft, describing events or men of this period, should be
used for reading lessons. Especially the best literary selections are
to be utilized, as the Landing of the Pilgrims, Webster's and Everett's
orations at Plymouth, Evangeline and Hiawatha, Indian legends and life,
Miles Standish, The Knickerbocker History, and some of the original
papers and letters of the early settlers. Whatever poems or prose
selections from our best literature are found to bear directly or
indirectly upon pioneer events, will add much interest and beauty to
the whole subject. A second series of reading materials for these
grades would be those masterpieces and traditions of European
literature, which are drawn from a corresponding pioneer epoch in those
countries; for example, Siegfried in Germany, Alaric in Italy, and
Ulysses in Greece. A selection of reading material along these lines
would exhibit much variety of prose and poetry, history, and geography.
Unity would be given to it by the spirit and labors of a typical age
and an intimate relation to history at all points established.
_Geography_ has an equally close relation to history stories. For
these grades geography and history cover the same geographical regions.
Instead of being totally isolated from each other they should be
purposely laid out on parallel lines with interlacing topics. North
America and the Atlantic ocean are the field of action in both cases.
These maritime explorers opened up the geography of this hemisphere at
its most interesting stage. No part of the Atlantic ocean or of its
North American coasts was overlooked by the navigators. The climate,
vegetation and people upon its islands and coasts were curious objects
to European adventurers. The first pioneers surveyed the eastern coast
and the adjacent interior of a new continent, with its bays, rivers,
forests, and mountains. The stories themselves are not intelligible
without full geographical explanations, and the personal interest in
the narratives throws a peculiar charm upon the geography.
The _Mississippi valley_ is a great field for both history and
geography. It is one of the striking physical features of North
America and the best of stories find their setting in this environment.
Not a great river of this region but is the scene of one of the
stories. The lakes and streams were the natural highways of the
explorers and settlers. The mountains obstructed their way, presenting
obstacles but not limits to their enterprise. The great forests housed
their game, concealed their enemies, and had to be cut down to make
space for their homes and cornfields. The prairies farther west were a
camping ground for them as well as for the deer and buffalo. There are
no important physical features of the great valley that are not touched
more or less in detail by the stories. It is the work of the geography
of this year to enlarge and complete the pictures suggested by the
stories, to multiply details, to compare and arrange and to associate
with these the facts of our present political and commercial geography.
The relation between history and geography is so intimate that it
requires some pedagogical skill to determine which of the two should
take the lead. But we have already adjudged the history to be by far
the more important of the two. Its subject-matter is of greater
intrinsic interest to children, and as it already stands in the
commanding center of the school course, we are disposed to bring the
geography lessons into close dependence upon it.
In these grades _natural science_ or nature study form a necessary
complement to the circle of historical and geographical topics treated.
Many interesting natural-science subjects, suggested by history and
geography, can not be dealt with satisfactorily in those studies; for
example, the tobacco plant, the cactus, the deer, the hot springs, the
squirrel, the mariner's compass. Natural science studies begin
naturally with the home neighborhood, with its plants, trees, animals,
rocks, inventions, and products. But having surveyed and learned many
of these things at home in his earlier years, the child is prepared,
when geography and history begin, to extend his natural-science
information to the larger geographical regions.
The history stories and geography suggest a large number of
_natural-science topics_, so that there is abundant choice of materials
while remaining in close connection with those studies. The vegetable
and animal life and products of the sea, suggested by the voyages, are
fishes, dolphins, whales, sea-birds, shells. Other topics are the
construction of ships, the mariner's compass, and astronomy. The
stories of the land pioneers open up a still richer field of natural
science study for the common schools. Among animals are the beaver,
otter, squirrel, coon, bear, fox, wildcat, deer, buffalo, domestic
animals, wild turkeys, ducks, pigeons, eagle, hawk, wild bees,
cat-fish, sword-fish, turtle, alligator, and many more. Among native
products and fruits are mentioned corn, pumpkins, beans, huckleberries,
grapes, strawberries, cranberries, tobacco, pawpaw, mulberry, haw,
plum, apple, and persimmon. Of trees are oak, hickory, walnut,
cypress, pine, birch, beech, and others. Tools, instruments, and
inventions are mentioned, with their uses, as guns, Indian weapons,
compass, thermometer, barometer, boats, carpenter's tools; also, the
uses of iron, lead, leather, and many of the simple arts and economies
of life, such as weaving, tempering of metals, tanning, and cooking.
The natural wonders of the country, such as falls, caves, hot-springs,
canons, salt licks, plains, interior deserts, and salt lakes, kinds of
rocks, soils, forests and other vegetation, the phenomena of the
weather and differences in climate, are referred to. All these and
other topics from the broad realm of nature are suggested, any of which
may serve as the starting point for a series of science lessons.
How far the natural science lessons can _heed the suggestions_ of
history and geography and still follow out and develop important
science principles, is one of the great problems for solution. It
would seem that the large number of natural-science topics touched upon
by the history, when increased by the variety of home objects in nature
and by still others called up by the geography work of these years,
would give sufficient variety to the natural science work of the same
period. By omitting some of these topics and enlarging upon others,
developing the notions of classes and principles so far as is
desirable, the natural-science lessons may be made sufficiently
scientific without losing the close relation to the central
subject-matter for the year. There is no doubt but the science-lessons
will add greatly to many topics suggested by the stories and will bring
the whole realm of nature into close relation to history and geography.
The subjects thus far discussed, that may be brought into close
relation to the central stories, are oral and written language, reading
and literature, geography, and the natural sciences. The connection
between these branches are numerous and strong at every step.
_Drawing_ has a very intimate and important relation to the objects
described in history, natural science, arithmetic, and geography; while
the _songs_ learned should express in those poetic and rhythmic forms
which appeal so strongly to the feelings, many of the noblest ideas
suggested by travel, scenery, history, and the experiences of home life.
_Arithmetic_, finally, seems to stand like an odd sheep among the
studies. It is certainly the least social of the common school
branches. While avoiding all forced connection between arithmetic and
other studies, we shall find some points where the relations are simple
and clear. Children in the first grade should see numbers in the
leaves, flowers, trees, and animals they study. At the beginning of
the first grade this would be a good informal way of beginning numbers.
The value of _objects_ in first and second grade number is so great
that it is only a question as to how far the objects suggested by other
lessons may be used.
But we are speaking of concentration in the fourth and fifth grades.
In the stories and in geography we deal with journeys up great rivers,
with the height of mountains, with the extent of valleys and lakes,
with regular forts, mounds, and enclosures, with companies and bodies
of men, with railroads, cities, and agricultural products, and with
many other topics which suggest excellent practical problems in
arithmetic for these grades. All such careful arithmetical
computations add clearness and definiteness to historical and
geographical ideas. The natural sciences have been so little
systematically taught in our common schools, that we are scarcely able
to realize what connection may be made between them and arithmetic. We
know that in the advanced study and applications of some of the natural
sciences, mathematics is an essential part.
A brief retrospect will make it appear that the history stories,
natural sciences, and geography, with the more formal studies, such as
reading, language, and arithmetic, may be brought into a _close organic
harmony_. Each of them depends upon and throws light upon the other;
and while the connections are natural, not forced, there is a
concentration upon the central historical and literary matter that
makes moral character the highest aim of teaching.
Since real concentration is practically a new educational undertaking,
it involves a number of _unsolved subordinate problems_; for instance,
how far shall science lessons, grammar, and geography follow their own
principles of selection, based on the nature and scientific arrangement
of their materials, while keeping up the dependence upon and
connections with the central subject. But if concentration is a true
principle of education, it is evident that none of these problems can
be solved until concentration has been agreed upon and made
fundamental. In this case those teachers who are trying to lay out
courses of study in geography, natural science, or history, without
regard to the relation of studies to each other, will have most of
their work to do over again.
A little reflection will convince us, perhaps, that a year's work thus
concentrated will produce a much more powerful and lasting impression
upon children than the loose aggregation of facts which is usually
collected during a year's work. Not only will the moral effect be
intensified, but the close dependence of each study upon the others
will be perceptibly felt as valuable and stimulating to the children.
If now we can conceive of the eight grades of the common school as
eight stages passing naturally from one to another, each a unit
composed of a net-work of well related facts, but the epochs closely
related to each other in a rising series, from childhood almost to
maturity, or from the beginning of history up to the present state of
culture, we shall be able also to think of education as a succession of
powerful culture influences, that will bring the child to our present
standpoint fully conscious of his duties and surroundings.
NOTE.--A careful criticism of the theory of the culture epochs is found
in Lange's Apperception translated by the Herbart club, published by D.
C. Heath, p. 110, etc.