CHAPTER X.

NO REWARD OR PUNISHMENT

Rational education is, above all things, a means of defence against

error and ignorance. To ignore truth and accept absurdities is,

unhappily, a common feature in our social order; to that we owe the

distinction of classes and the persistent antagonism of interests.

Having admitted and practised the co-education of boys and girls, of

rich and poor—having, that is to say, started from the principle of

solidarity and equality—we are not prepared to create a new inequality.

Hence in the Modern School there will be no rewards and no punishments;

there will be no examinations to puff up some children with the

flattering title of “excellent,” to give others the vulgar title of

“good,” and make others unhappy with a consciousness of incapacity and

failure.

These features of the existing official and religious schools, which

are quite in accord with their reactionary environment and aim, cannot,

for the reasons I have given, be admitted into the Modern School. Since

we are not educating for a specific purpose, we cannot determine the

capacity or incapacity of the child. When we teach a science, or art,

or trade, or some subject requiring special conditions, an examination

may be useful, and there may be reason to give a diploma or refuse one;

I neither affirm nor deny it. But there is no such specialism in the

Modern School. The characteristic note of the school, distinguishing it

even from some which pass as progressive models, is that in it the

faculties of the children shall develop freely without subjection to

any dogmatic patron, not even to what it may consider the body of

convictions of the founder and teachers; every pupil shall go forth

from it into social life with the ability to be his own master and

guide his own life in all things.

Hence, if we were rationally prevented from giving prizes, we could not

impose penalties, and no one would have dreamed of doing so in our

school if the idea had not been suggested from without. Sometimes

parents came to me with the rank proverb, “Letters go in with blood,”

on their lips, and begged me to punish their children. Others who were

charmed with the precocious talent of their children wanted to see them

shine in examinations and exhibit medals. We refused to admit either

prizes or punishments, and sent the parents away. If any child were

conspicuous for merit, application, laziness, or bad conduct, we

pointed out to it the need of accord, or the unhappiness of lack of

accord, with its own welfare and that of others, and the teacher might

give a lecture on the subject. Nothing more was done, and the parents

were gradually reconciled to the system, though they often had to be

corrected in their errors and prejudices by their own children.

Nevertheless, the old prejudice was constantly recurring, and I saw

that I had to repeat my arguments with the parents of new pupils. I

therefore wrote the following article in the Bulletin:—

The conventional examinations which we usually find held at the end

of a scholastic year, to which our fathers attached so much

importance, have had no result at all; or, if any result, a bad

one. These functions and their accompanying solemnities seem to

have been instituted for the sole purpose of satisfying the vanity

of parents and the selfish interests of many teachers, and in order

to put the children to torture before the examination and make them

ill afterwards. Each father wants his child to be presented in

public as one of the prodigies of the college, and regards him with

pride as a learned man in miniature. He does not notice that for a

fortnight or so the child suffers exquisite torture. As things are

judged by external appearances, it is not thought that there is any

real torture, as there is not the least scratch visible on the

skin....

The parent’s lack of acquaintance with the natural disposition of

the child, and the iniquity of putting it in false conditions so

that its intellectual powers, especially in the sphere of memory,

are artificially stimulated, prevent the parent from seeing that

this measure of personal gratification may, as has happened in many

cases, lead to illness and to the moral, if not the physical, death

of the child.

On the other hand, the majority of teachers, being mere

stereotypers of ready-made phrases and mechanical inoculators,

rather than moral fathers of their pupils, are concerned in these

examinations with their own personality and their economic

interests. Their object is to let the parents and the others who

are present at the public display see that, under their guidance,

the child has learned a good deal, that its knowledge is greater in

quantity and quality than could have been expected of its tender

years and in view of the short time that it has been under the

charge of this very skilful teacher.

In addition to this wretched vanity, which is satisfied at the cost

of the moral and physical life of the child, the teachers are

anxious to elicit compliments from the parents and the rest of the

audience, who know nothing of the real state of things, as a kind

of advertisement of the prestige of their particular school.

Briefly, we are inexorably opposed to holding public examinations.

In our school everything must be done for the advantage of the

pupil. Everything that does not conduce to this end must be

recognised as opposed to the natural spirit of positive education.

Examinations do no good, and they do much harm to the child.

Besides the illness of which we have already spoken, the nervous

system of the child suffers, and a kind of temporary paralysis is

inflicted on its conscience by the immoral features of the

examination; the vanity provoked in those who are placed highest,

envy and humiliation, grave obstacles to sound growth, in those who

have failed, and in all of them the germs of most of the sentiments

which go to the making of egoism.

In a later number of the Bulletin I found it necessary to return to the

subject:—

We frequently receive letters from Workers’ Educational Societies

and Republican Fraternities asking that the teachers shall chastise

the children in our schools. We ourselves have been disgusted,

during our brief excursions, to find material proofs of the fact

which is at the base of this request; we have seen children on

their knees, or in other attitudes of punishment.

These irrational and atavistic practices must disappear. Modern

pædagogy entirely discredits them. The teachers who offer their

services to the Modern School, or ask our recommendation to teach

in similar schools, must refrain from any moral or material

punishment, under penalty of being disqualified permanently.

Scolding, impatience, and anger ought to disappear with the ancient

title of “master.” In free schools all should be peace, gladness,

and fraternity. We trust that this will suffice to put an end to

these practices, which are most improper in people whose sole ideal

is the training of a generation fitted to establish a really

fraternal, harmonious, and just state of society.

The Origin and Ideals of the Modern School · 第 10 / 17 章