CLASS-ROOM METHOD IN READING
1. The Doorway.
There is a strong comfort in the idea that in the preparation of a
masterpiece for a reading class the teacher may be dealing with a unity
of thought in a variety of relations that makes the study a
comprehensive culture-product both to herself and to the children. To
become a student of "Hiawatha" as a whole, and in its relations to
Indian life and tradition, early aboriginal history, and Longfellow's
connection with the same, is to throw a deep glance into history and
anthropology, and to recognize literature as the permanent form of
expressing their spirit. There are a good many side-lights that a
teacher needs to get from history and other literature, and from the
author's life, in order to see a literary masterpiece in its true
setting. It is the part of the poet to make his work intensely real and
ideal, the two elements that appeal with trenchant force to children.
The teacher needs not only to see the graphic pictures drawn by the
artist, but to gather about these central points of view other
collateral, explanatory facts that give a deeper setting to the picture.
Fortunately, such study as this is not burdensome. There is a
joyousness and sparkle to it that can relieve many an hour of tedium.
Literature in its best forms is recreation, and brings an infusion of
spiritual energy. We should not allow ourselves to confuse it with those
more humdrum forms of school employment, like spelling, figuring,
reading in the formal sense, grammar, writing, etc. Literature is the
spiritual side of school effort, the uplands of thought, where gushing
springs well from the roots and shade of overarching trees. There is
jollity and music, beauty and grandeur, the freshness of cool breezes
and of mountain scenery, in such profusion as to satisfy the exuberance
of youthful spirit, and to infuse new energy into old and tired natures.
If the teacher can only get out of the narrow streets of the town and
from between the dead walls of the schoolroom, up among the meadows and
groves and brooks, in company with Bryant or Longfellow or Whittier, if
she can only take a draught of these spirit-waters before walking into
the schoolroom, her thought and conduct will be tempered into a fit
instrument of culture.
The teacher's preparation is not only in the intellectual grasp of the
thought, but in the sympathy, feeling, and pleasure germane to a
classic. The aesthetic and emotional elements, the charm of poetry, and
the sparkle of wit and glint of literary elegance and aptness are what
give relish and delight to true literary products. Literature appeals to
the whole nature and not to the intellect alone. It is not superficial
and formal, but deep and spiritual. The teacher who reads a classic like
"Marmion," thoughtfully dwelling upon the historic pictures, calling to
mind other of Scott's stories and the earlier struggle between Scotland
and England, is drinking at the fresh fountains and sources of some of
the best parts of European history. The clear and rock-rimmed lakes of
Scotland, her rugged mountains and ruined castle walls, are not more
delightful to the traveller than the pictures of life and history that
appear in "Tales of a Grandfather," "Rob Roy," "Marmion," and "Lady of
the Lake." To paint these stirring panoramic views of Scotch adventure
and prowess upon the imagination of the young is to invigorate their
thought with the real sentiment of patriotism, and with appreciation for
manly struggle, endurance, and spirit. The vivid insight it gives into
feudal society in church and court and castle, on battle-field and in
dining hall, among the rude peasantry and the unlettered nobility, is
found more lifelike and lasting than the usual results of historical
study.
The moment we take a longer masterpiece and examine it as a
representative piece of human life, or as a typical portraiture of a
historical epoch, it becomes the converging point for much lively and
suggestive knowledge, deep and strong social interests, and convincing
personification of moral impulses.
The best preparation, therefore, a teacher can make for a class is a
spiritual and spirited one. At first the linguistic, formal, verbal
mastery of literature, its critical examination, even its elocution,
should remain in the background both for teacher and children. Let the
direct impress of the thought, motive, and emotion of the characters be
unimpeded; give the author a chance to speak direct to the hearts of the
children, and the avenue toward the desired results in formal reading
will be left wide open.
We would not deny that a certain labor is required of the teacher in
such preparation. But, in the main, it is a refreshing kind of labor. If
it brings a feeling of weariness, it is the kind that conduces to sound
and healthy sleep. It invokes a feeling of inward power and of
accumulated rich resource that helps us to meet with confidence the
emergencies and opportunities of instruction.
2. In the assignment of the lesson the teacher has a chance to give the
children a glimpse of the pleasure that awaits them, and to catch a
little of the enthusiasm which her own study has awakened. This should
be done briefly and by significant suggestion. In first introducing a
longer work, it will pay to occupy more than is usual in recitations in
opening up the new subject; if it is historical, in locating the time,
circumstances, and geographical setting. The chief aim of the assignment
should be to awaken curiosity and interest which may be strong enough to
lead to a full and appreciative study of the lesson. A second aim of
the assignment is to pave the way to an easier mastery of verbal
difficulties that arise, such as new and difficult words, obscure or
involved passages. The first aim is a substantial and fruitful one. It
approaches the whole reading lesson from the side of interest and
spirit. It seeks to plant direct incentives and suggestions deep enough
in the mind to start effort. The assignment should take it for granted
that natural interest and absorption in the thought will lead directly
to that kind of vigorous effort and mastery that will secure natural and
expressive oral reading. Look well to the deeper springs of thought and
action, and the formal reading will open just the avenue needed to
realize good expression.
Skill, originality, and teaching art are much needed in the assignment.
It is not how much the teacher says, but the suggestiveness of it, the
problems raised, the questions whose answers lie in the examination of
the lesson. The reference to previous readings which bear resemblance to
this selection; the inquiry into children's experiences, sets them to
thinking.
Sometimes it pays to spend five or ten minutes in attacking the
difficult words and meanings of the lesson assigned. Let the class read
on and discover words or phrases that puzzle them. Let difficult forms
be put on the board and syllabicated if necessary. A brief study of
synonymous words and phrases may be in place.
It is a mistake to decline all helpful and suggestive study of the next
lesson in class, on the ground that it invalidates the self-activity of
children. Self-activity is, indeed, the chief aim of a good assignment.
It is designed to stimulate the children to energetic and well-directed
effort. Self-activity is not encouraged by requiring children to
struggle with obstacles they have not the ability to surmount.
Pronouncing new words and searching for dictionary meanings is often
made a mechanical labor which is irksome and largely fruitless, because
the wrong pronunciations are learned and the definitions do not fit.
Before children are required to use the dictionary in pronouncing and
defining words, they need careful exercises in how to use and to
interpret the dictionary.
The teacher needs to make a study of the art of assigning lessons.
Clearness and simplicity, so as to give no ground for misunderstandings,
are the result of thoughtful preparation on the teacher's part. There is
always danger of giving too much or too little, of carelessness and
unsteady requirements, overburdening the children one day, and even
forgetting the next day to assign a definite task. The forethought and
precision with which a teacher assigns her lessons is one of the best
tests of her prudence and success in teaching.
It is necessary also to be on one's guard against hasty assignments.
Even when proper care has been taken in planning the next lesson, the
time slips by with urgent work, and the signal for dismissal comes
before time has been taken for any clear assignment.
If the teacher knows just what references will throw added light upon
the lesson, what books and pages will be directly helpful, if he can
appoint different pupils to look up particular references and sometimes
even go to the library with them and search for the references, in
grades from the fifth through the eighth, the result may be very
helpful. In the class recitation it is necessary to gather up the fruits
of this reference work with as little waste of time as possible,
recognizing that it is purely collateral to the main purpose.
Pictures and maps are useful oftentimes as references. As children
advance in the grades, they are capable of greater independence and
judgment in the use of such materials. General, loose, and indefinite
references are a sign of ignorance, carelessness, and lack of
preparation on the teacher's part. They are discouraging and
unprofitable to children. But we desire to see children broadening their
views, extending their knowledge of books and of how to use them. The
amount of good literature that can be well treated and read in the class
is small, but much suggestive outside home and vacation reading may be
encouraged, that will open a still wider and richer area of personal
study.
3. In spite of all the precautions of the teacher, in spite of lively
interest and intelligent study by the children, there will be many
haltings and blunders, many inaccuracies in the use of eye and voice.
These faults spring partly from habit and previous home influences. The
worst faults are often those of which a child is unconscious, so
habitual have they become. If we are to meet these difficulties wisely,
we must start and keep up a strong momentum in the class. There should
be a steady and strong current of effort in which all share. This
depends, as has been often said, upon the power of the selection to
awaken the thought and feeling of the children. It depends equally upon
the pervasive spirit and energy of the teacher. If we try to analyze
this complex phenomenon, we may find that, so far as the children are
concerned, two elements are present, natural and spontaneous absorption
in the ideas and sensibilities awakened by the author, and the bracing
conviction that sustained effort is expected and required by the
teacher. Children, to read well, must be free; they must feel the force
of ideas and of the emotions and convictions awakened by them. They must
also be conscious of that kind of authority and control which insists
upon serious and sustained effort. Freedom to exercise their own powers
and obedience to a controlling influence are needful. If the teacher can
secure this right movement and ferment in a class, she will be able to
correct the errors and change bad habits into the desired form of
expression. The correction of errors, in the main, should be quiet,
incidental, suggestive, not disturbing the child's thought and effort,
not destroying the momentum of his sentiment and feeling. Let him move
on firmly and vigorously; only direct his movement here and there,
modify his tone by easy suggestions and pertinent questions, and
encourage him as far as possible in his own effort to appreciate and
express the author's idea.
In reading lessons there are certain purely formal exercises that are
very helpful. The single and concert pronunciation of difficult or
unusual words that come up in old and new lessons, the vocal exercises
in syllabication and in vowel and consonant drill, are examples. They
should be quick and vigorous, and preliminary to their application in
lessons.
4. The teacher is only a guide and interpreter. With plenty of reserve
power, he should only draw upon it occasionally. His chief business is
not to show the children how to read by example, nor to be always
explaining and amplifying the thought of the author. His aim should be
to best call the minds of the children into strong action through the
stimulation of the author's thought, and to go a step farther and
reproduce and mould this thought into oral expression.
In order to call out the best efforts of children, a teacher needs to
study well the art of questioning. The range of possibilities in
questioning is very wide. If a rational, sensible question is regarded
as the central or zero point, there are many degrees below it in the art
of questioning and many degrees above it. Below it is a whole host of
half-rational or useless questions which would better be left unborn:
What does this word mean? Why didn't you study your lesson? Why weren't
you paying attention? What is the definition of also? How many mistakes
did Mary make?
Much time is sometimes wasted in trying to answer aimless or trivial
questions: Peter, what does this strange word mean, or how do you
pronounce it? Ethel may try it. Who thinks he can pronounce it better?
Johnny, try it. Perhaps somebody knows how it ought to be. Sarah, can't
you pronounce it? Finally, after various efforts, the teacher passes on
to something else without even making clear the true pronunciation or
meaning. This is worse than killing time. It is befuddling the children.
A question should aim clearly at some important idea, and should bring
out a definite result. The children should have time to think, but not
to guess and dawdle, and then be left groping in the dark.
The chief aim of questions is to arouse vigor and variety of thought as
a means of better appreciation and expression. Children read poorly
because they do not see the meaning or do not feel the force of the
sentiment. They give wrong emphasis and intonation. A good question is
like a flash of lightning which suddenly reveals our standing-ground and
surroundings, and gives the child a chance to strike out again for
himself. His intelligence lights up, he sees the point, and responds
with a significant rendering of the thought. But the teacher must be a
thinker to ask simple and pertinent questions. He can't go at it in a
loose and lumbering fashion. Lively and sympathetic and appreciative of
the child's moods and feelings must he be, as well as clear and definite
in his own perception of the author's meaning.
Questioning for meaning is equivalent to that for securing expression,
and thus two birds are hit with one stone. A pointed question energizes
thought along a definite line, and leads to a more intense and vivid
perception of the meaning. This is just the vantage-ground we desire in
order to secure good expression. We wish children not to imitate, but
first to see and feel, and then to express in becoming wise the thought
as they see it and feel it. This makes reading a genuine performance,
not a parrot-like formalism.
5. Trying to awaken the mental energy and action of a class as they move
on through a masterpiece, requires constant watchfulness to keep alive
their sense-perceptions and memories, and to touch their imaginations
into constructive effort at every turn in the road. Through the direct
action of the senses the children have accumulated much variety of
sense-materials, of country and town, of hill, valley, river, lake,
fields, buildings, industries, roads, homes, gardens, seasons. Out of
this vast and varied quarry they are able to gather materials with which
to construct any landscape or situation you may desire. Give the
children abundance of opportunity to use these collected riches, and to
construct, each in his own way, the scenes and pictures that the poet's
art so vividly suggests. Many of the questions we ask of children are
designed simply to recall and reawaken images which lie dormant in their
minds, or, on the other hand, to find out whether they can combine their
old sense-perceptions so skilfully and vividly as to realize the present
situation. Keen and apt questions will reach down into the depth of a
child's life experiences and bring up concrete images which the fancy
then modifies and adjusts to the present need. The teacher may often
suggest something in his own observations to kindle like memories in
theirs. Or, if the subject seems unfamiliar, he may bring on a picture
from book or magazine. Sometimes a sketch or diagram on the board may
give sense-precision and definiteness to the object discussed, even
though it be rudely drawn. This constant appeal to what is real and
tangible and experimental, not only locates things definitely in time
and space, makes clear and plain what was hazy or meaningless, awakens
interest by connecting the story or description with former
experiences, but it sets in action the creative imagination which shapes
and builds up new and pleasing structures, combining old and new. This
kind of mental elaboration, which reaches back into the senses and
forward into the imagination, is what gives mobility and adjustability
to our mental resources. It is not stiff and rigid and refractory
knowledge that we need. Ideas may retain their truth and strength, their
inward quality, and still submit to infinite variations and adjustments.
Water is one of the most serviceable of all nature's compounds, because
it has such mobility of form, such capacity to dissolve and take into
solution other substances, or of being absorbed and even lost sight of
in other bodies. The ideas we have gathered and stored up from all
sources are our building materials; the imagination is the architect who
conceives the plan and directs the use of different materials in the
growth of the new structures. The teacher's chief function in reading
classes is, on the one hand, to see that children revive and utilize
their sense-knowledge, and on the other, to wake the sleeping giant and
set him to work to build the beauteous structures for which the
materials have been prepared. But for this, teachers could be dispensed
with. As Socrates said, they are only helpers; they stand by, not to
perform the work, but to gently guide, to stimulate, and now and then to
lend a helping hand over a bad place.
Explanations, therefore, on the teacher's part, should be clear and
brief, purely tributary to the main effort. In younger classes, when the
children have, as yet, little ability to use references, the teacher may
add much, especially if it be concrete, graphic, picturesque, and
bearing directly upon the subject. But as children grow more
self-reliant they can look up facts and references, and bring more
material themselves to the elucidation of the lesson. But even in adult
classes the rich experience of a trained and wise teacher, whose
illustrations are apt and graphic and criticisms incisive, is an intense
pleasure and stimulus to students.
6. The major part of time and effort in reading classes should be given
to the reading proper, and not to oral discussions, explanations, and
collateral information and references. It is possible to have
interesting discussions and much use of reference books, and still make
small progress in expressive reading. The main thing should not be lost
sight of. We should learn to march steadily forward through lively and
energetic thought toward expressive reading. There is no other right
approach to good reading except through a lively grasp of the thought,
sentiment, and style of the author. But the side-lights that come from
collateral reading and reference are of great significance. They are
something like the scenery on the stage. They make the effect more
intense and real. They supply a background of environment and
association which give the ideas more local significance and a stronger
basis in the whole complex of ideas.
The reading or oral rendering is the final test of understanding and
appreciation of the lesson. The recitation should focus in this applied
art. All questioning and discussion that do not eventuate in expressive
reading fall short of their proper result. Reading is a school exercise
in which the principles discussed can be immediately applied, and this
is scarcely true in studies like history, science, and mathematics.
There are many hindrances in the way of this fruitful result; the
teacher is tempted to talk and explain too much, interesting questions
and controversies spring up, trivial matters receive too much
consideration, much time is spent in the oral reproduction of the
thought; often the time slips by with a minimum of effective reading.
The questions, discussions, collateral references, and explanations
should be brought into immediate connection with the children's reading,
so that the special thought may produce its effect upon expression. This
test of effectiveness is a good one to apply to explanations,
definitions, and questions. Unless they produce a pronounced effect upon
the reading, they are largely superfluous. In view of this the teacher
will learn to be sparing of words, laconic and definite in statement,
pointed and clear in questioning, and energetic in pushing forward.
While interest in the thought-content is the impelling motive in good
reading exercises, lively and natural expression is likewise the proper
fruit and outcome of such a motive carried to its proper end.
7. In order to keep up the right interest and movement, it is necessary
to give considerable variety to the work. A teacher's good sense and
tact should be like a thermometer which registers the mental temperature
of the class. If kept too long at a single line of effort, its monotony
induces carelessness and inattention; while a total change to some other
order of exercise would awake their interest and zeal. Variety is needed
also within the compass of a single recitation, because there are
several preliminaries and varieties of preparatory drill which conduce
to good rendering of any selection. Such are vocal exercises in
consonants and vowels; pronunciation and syllabication of new or
difficult words; physical exercises to put the body and nervous system
into proper tone; the assignment of the next lesson, requiring a
peculiar effort and manner of treatment; the report and discussion of
references; concert drills; the study of meanings--synonyms and
derivations; illustrations and information by the teacher; introduction
of other illustrative matter, as pictures, drawings, maps, and diagrams.
Variety can be given to each lesson in many ways according to the
ingenuity of the teacher. If we are reading a number of short
selections, they themselves furnish different varieties and types of
prose and verse. The dramatist or novelist provides for such variety by
introducing a series of diverse scenes, all leading forward to a common
end.
8. Parallel to the requirement of variety is the equally important
demand that children should learn to do one thing at a time and learn to
do it well. This may appear contradictory to the former requirement, but
the skill and tact of the teacher is what should solve this seeming
contradiction. It is a fact that we try to do too many things in each
reading lesson. We fail to pound on one nail long enough to drive it in.
Reading lessons often resemble a child pounding nails into a board. He
strikes one nail a blow or two, then another, and so on until a dozen or
more are in all stages of incompleteness. We too often allow the
recitation hour to end with a number of such incomplete efforts. Good
reading is not like moving a house, when it is all carried along in one
piece. We reach better results if we concentrate attention and effort
during a recitation along the line of a narrow aim. At least this seems
true of the more formal, mechanical side of reading. It is better to try
to break up bad habits, one at a time, rather than to make a general,
indefinite onslaught upon all together. Suppose, for example, that the
teacher suggests as an aim of the lesson conversational reading, or that
which sounds like pupils talking to each other. Many dialogue selections
admit of such an aim as this. If this aim is set up at the beginning of
the lesson, the children's minds will be rendered acute in this
direction; they will be on the alert for this kind of game. Each child
who reads is scrutinized by teacher and pupils to see how near he comes
to the ideal. A conscious effort begins to dominate the class to reach
this specific goal. Children may close their eyes and listen to see if
the reading has the right sound. A girl or boy goes into an adjoining
entry or dressing room and listens to see if those in the class are
reading or talking. The enthusiasm and class spirit awakened are very
helpful. Not that a whole recitation should be given up to that sort of
thing, but it is the characteristic effort of the lesson. When the
children practise the next lesson at home they will have this point in
mind.
For several days this sort of specific, definite aim at a narrow result
may be followed up in the class till the children begin to acquire power
in this direction. What was, at first, painfully conscious effort begins
to assume the form of habit, and when this result is achieved, we may
drop this aim as a leading one in the recitation, and turn our attention
to some different line of effort. Distinct pronunciation of sounds is
one of the things that we are always aiming at, in a general way, and
never getting. Why not set this up in a series of recitations as a
definite aim, and resort to a series of devices to lay bare the kind of
faults the children are habitually guilty of? Give them a chance to
correct these faults, and awake the class spirit in this direction. It
will not be difficult to convince them that they are not pronouncing
their final consonants, like _d_, _t_, _l_, _m_, _r_, and _k_. Keep the
attention for a lesson to this kind of error till there is recognizable
improvement. Then notice the short vowel sounds in the unaccented
syllables, and give them search-light attention. Notice later the
syllables that children commonly slur over. Mark these fugitives, and
see if they continue so invisible and inaudible. They are like Jack the
Giant Killer, when he put on his cloak of invisibility, or like Perseus
under similar circumstances. See if we can find these fellows who seem
to masquerade and dodge about behind their companions. Then some of the
long vowels and diphthongs will require investigation. They are not all
so open-faced and above board as they might be. When children have such
a simple and distinct aim in view, they are ready to work with a vim and
to exert themselves in a conscious effort at improvement. Keep this aim
foremost in the recitation, although other requirements of good reading
are not wholly neglected.
After a definite line of effort has been strongly developed as one of
the above described, it is possible thereafter to keep it in mind with
slight attention. But if no special drill has ever been devoted to it
for a given length of time, it has not been brought so distinctly to
mind as to produce a lasting impression and to lay the basis for habit.
Besides the two aims, clear articulation and conversational tones, there
are others that may be labored at similarly. Appreciation of the thought
as expressed by the reading is a rich field for critical study of a
piece, and as a basis for observing and judging the children's reading.
This idea is well implied by such questions as follow: Is that what the
passage means? Have you given expression to the author's meaning by
emphasis on this word? Does your rendering of this passage make good
sense? Compare it with what precedes. How did the man feel when he said
this? What do we know of his character that would lead us to expect such
words from him? This line of questions has a wide and varied range. The
chief thing is to scrutinize the thought in all the light attainable,
and appeal to the child's own judgment as to the suitableness of the
tone and emphasis to the thought. Does it sound right? Is that what the
passage means?
Each characteristic form of prose or verse has a peculiar style and
force of expression that calls for a corresponding oral rendering. There
is the serious and massive, though simple, diction of Webster's
speeches, with its smooth and rounded periods, calling for slow and
steady and energetic reading. We should notice this characteristic of an
author, and grow into sympathy with his feeling, language, and mental
movement. In Macaulay's "Lays of Ancient Rome," the ring of martial
music is in the words, and it swells out into rapid and rousing speech
which should correspond to the thought. In "Evangeline" the flow of
language is placid and gentle and rhythmical, and in consonance with the
gentle faith and hope of Evangeline. Every true literary product has its
own character, which the genius of the author has impressed upon its
language and moulded into its structure, and which calls for a rendering
fit and appropriate. Before completing a selection, we should detect
this essence and quality and bring our reading to reveal it. The places
should be pointed out where it comes into prominence.
When completing such a work of art there should be given opportunity to
bring all the varied elements and special aims discovered and worked out
during its reading to a focus.
In the final review and rereading of a complete poem or prose selection
the points of excellence in reading which have been the special aims of
effort in the studies of the piece should be kept sharply in mind and
pushed to a full expression. The realization of these various aims may
be set before the class as the distinct object of their closing work on
a masterpiece. The failure to hold vigorously to this final achievement
is a clear sign of intellectual and moral lassitude. Reading, as noticed
before, is one of the few studies in which the final application of
theory to practice can be effected, and children may realize that things
are learned for the sake of using them, and not simply against some
future contingency. This implies, however, much resource and skill on
the teacher's part in awakening the children. The impulses and aims
which arouse the children to strenuous effort should spring from within,
and should be expressions of their own self-activity and volition. There
is much need of the enthusiasm and will-energy that overcome drudgery.
Children should be taught to be dissatisfied with anything less than
real accomplishment.
The children will naturally memorize certain passages which strike their
fancy. Other passages have been suggested by the teacher for different
pupils to memorize. In one of the closing lessons let the children
recite these parts before the class. If the teacher has succeeded in
calling out the live interest of the class during the previous study,
such a lesson will be a joy to both pupils and teacher. One or two of
the children may also volunteer or be appointed to make an oral
statement of the argument, which will give freedom to natural and
effective speech. Such a round-up of the reading lessons at the end of a
series of interesting studies is a rich experience to the whole class.
Besides the important special aims thus far suggested, which should each
stand out clear for a series of lessons until its value is realized and
worked over into habit, there are other subordinate aims that deserve
particular and individual consideration, and may now and then become the
dominant purpose of a lesson. Such are the correction of singsong
reading, the use of the dictionary, the study of synonyms and
antitheses, the comparisons and figures of speech, exercises in sight
reading of unfamiliar selections, quotations from selections and
masterpieces already read, study of the lives and works of authors.
Reading is a many-sided study, and to approach its difficulties with
success we must take them up one at a time, conquering them in detail.
Good housekeepers and cooks are accustomed to lay out a series of
dinners in which the chief article of diet is varied from day to day as
follows: chicken pie with oysters, veal potpie, stewed fish, broiled
beefsteak, venison roast, bean soup with ham, roast mutton, baked fish,
broiled quail, roast beef, baked chicken with parsnips, etc. Such a
series of dinners gives a healthy variety and relish. It is better for
most people than the bill of fare at a large hotel, where there is so
much variety and sameness each day. When we try each day to do
everything in a reading lesson, we grasp more than our hands can hold,
and most of it falls to the ground. Children are pleased and encouraged
by actual progress in surmounting difficulties when they are presented
one at a time, and opportunity is given for complete mastery. The
children should labor consciously and vigorously at one line of effort,
be it distinctness or rhythm or emphasis or conversational tone, till
decided improvement and progress are attained, and the ease of right
habit begins to show itself. Then we can turn to some new field,
securing and holding the vantage-ground of our foregoing effort by
occasional reminders.
9. One of the best tests applied to a reading class is their degree of
class attention. The steadiness and responsiveness with which the whole
class follow the work is a fair measure of successful teaching. To have
but one child read at a time while the others wait their turn or scatter
their thoughts, is very bad. It is a good sign of a teacher's skill and
efficiency to see every child in energetic pursuit of the reading. It
conduces to the best progress in that study and is the genesis of right
mental habit.
Attention is a _sine qua non_ to good teaching, and yet it is a result
rather than a cause. It is a ripe fruit rather than the spring promise
of it. The provisions which lead up to steady attention are deserving of
a teacher's study and patient scrutiny. She may command attention for a
moment by sheer force of will and personality, but it must have
something to feed upon the next moment and the next, or it will be
wandering in distant fields. So great and indispensable is the value of
attention, that some teachers try to secure it at too heavy a cost. They
command, threaten, punish. They resort to severity and cruelty. But the
more formidable the teacher becomes, the more difficult for a child to
do his duty. Here, again, we can best afford to go back to the sources
from which attention naturally springs, interesting subject of thought,
vivid and concrete perceptions, lively and suggestive appeal to the
imagination, the sphere of noble thought and emotion, variety and
movement in mental effort, a mutual sympathy and harmony between teacher
and pupil.
It is indeed well for the teacher to gauge his work by the kind and
intensity of attention he can secure. If the class has dropped into
slothful and habitual carelessness and inattention, he will have to give
them a few severe jolts; he must drop questions where they are least
expected. He must be very alert to detect a listless child and wake him
into action. The vigor, personal will, and keen watchfulness of the
teacher must be a constant resource. On the other hand, let him look
well to the thought, the feeling, and capacity of the children, and give
them matter which is equal to their merits.
It is not unusual to find the teacher's eye following the text closely
instead of watching the class. But the teacher's eye should be moving
alertly among the children. In case he has studied the lesson carefully,
the teacher can detect almost every mistake without the book. In fact,
even if one has not recently read a selection, he can usually detect a
verbal error by the break or incoherency of the thought. Moreover, the
teacher can better judge the expressiveness of the reading by listening
to it than by following the text with his eye. Depending wholly upon the
ear, any defect of utterance or ineptness of expression is quickly
detected. Even the children at times should be asked to close their
books and to listen closely to the reading. This emphasizes the notion
that good reading is the oral expression of thought, so that those who
listen can understand and enjoy it.
The treadmill style of reading, which repeats and repeats, doing the
same things day by day, going through the like round of mechanical
motions, should give way to a rational, spirited, variegated method
which arouses interest and variety of thought, and moves ever toward a
conscious goal.
10. In studying the masterpieces of great writers, a question arises how
to treat the moral situations involved in the stories. In their revolt
against excessive moralizing with children, some critics object to any
direct teaching of moral ideas in connection with literature, being
opposed to explicit discussions of moral notions.
All will admit that literature, dealing as it does with human life, is
surcharged with practical morality, with social conduct. It is also the
motive of great writers, while dealing honestly with human nature, to
idealize and beautify their representations of men. Nor is it their
purpose to make unworthy characters pleasing and attractive models.
It is expected, of course, that children will get clear notions and
opinions of such persons as Miles Standish and John Alden, of Whittier's
father and mother and others in the fireside circle of "Snow-Bound," of
Antonio and Shylock in the "Merchant of Venice," of Cinderella and her
sisters in the story, of Wallace and Bruce in Scott's "Tales," of Gluck
and his brothers in Ruskin's story, of Scrooge in the "Christmas Carol,"
of Evangeline, Enoch Arden, etc.
But boys and girls are not infallible judges of character. They are apt
to form erroneous or one-sided judgments from lack of insight into the
author's meaning, or from carelessness. There is the same possibility of
error in forming moral judgments as in forming judgments in other phases
of an author's thought.
It is the province of the teacher to stimulate the children to think,
and, by his superior experience and judgment, to guide them into correct
thinking. It is not the function of the teacher to impose his ready-made
judgments upon children, either in morals or in anything else. But it is
his concern, by questions, suggestions, and criticisms, to aid in
clarifying the thought, to put the children upon the right track. There
is no reason why a teacher should abdicate his place of instructor
because he chances to come before moral problems. Literature is full of
moral situations, moral problems, and moral evolutions in character, and
even of moral ideals. Is the teacher to stand dumb before these things
as if he had lost his wits? Or is he to consider it the greatest
opportunity of his life to prudently guide young people to the correct
perception of what is beautiful and true in human life? Why, indeed,
should he suppress his own enthusiasm for these ideals? Why should not
his personality be free to express itself in matters of moral concern,
as well as in intellectual and aesthetic judgments? So long as the
teacher throws the pupils back upon their own self-activity and thinking
power, there need be no danger of moral pedantry or of moral dyspepsia.
It seems to me, therefore, that the teacher should use freedom and
boldness in discussing with the children candidly and thoughtfully the
characters presented in good literature. Let the situations be made
clear so that correct judgments of single acts can be formed. Let the
weaknesses and virtues of the persons be noted. Let motives be studied
and characteristic tendencies traced out. In this way children may
gradually increase their insight and enlarge the range of their
knowledge of social life. If these things are not legitimate, why should
such materials be presented to children at all? We need not make
premature moralists of children, or teach them to pass easy or flippant
moral judgments upon others. But we wish their interest in these
characters to be deep and genuine, their eyes wide open to the truths of
life, and their intuitive moral judgments to ripen in a healthy and
hearty social environment. To this end the teacher will need to use all
his skill in questioning, in suggestion, in frank and candid discussion.
In short, he needs just those qualities which a first-class teacher
needs in any field of study.
We have gotten out of the mode of tacking a moral to a story. Ostensibly
moral stories, overweighted with a moral purpose, do not please us. We
wish novelists and dramatists to give us the truth of life, and leave us
to pass judgment upon the characters. Our best literature presents great
variety of scenes and characterizations in their natural setting in
life. They specially cultivate moral judgment and insight. One of the
ultimate standards which we apply to all novels and dramas is that of
their fundamental moral truth. Schlegel, in his "Dramatic Art and
Literature," in his criticisms of great writers, discusses again and
again the moral import of the characters, and even the moral purpose of
Shakespeare and the dramatists. In fact, these moral considerations lie
deep and fundamental in judging the great works of literary art. The
masterpieces we use in the schools bear the same relation to the
children that the more difficult works bear to adults.
The clear discussion of the moral element in literature seems,
therefore, natural and legitimate, while its neglect and obscuration
would be a fatal defect.
11. There are two kinds of reading which should be cultivated in reading
lessons, although they seem to fall a little apart from the main highway
of effort. They are, first, sight reading of supplementary matter for
the purpose of cultivating a quick and accurate grasp of new thought and
forms. When we leave school, one of the values of reading will be the
power it gives to interpret quickly and grasp firmly the ideas as they
present themselves in the magazines, papers, and books we read. Good
efforts in school reading will lead forward gradually to that readiness
of thought and fluency of perception which will give freedom and mastery
of new reading matter. To develop this ability and to regulate it into
habit, we must give children a chance to read quite a little at sight.
We need supplementary readers in sets which can be put into the hands of
children for this purpose. The same books will answer for several
classes, and may be passed from room to room of similar grade.
The reading matter we select for this purpose may be classic, and of the
best quality, just as well as to be limited to information and
geographical readers which are much inferior. There are first-class
books of literary merit, which are entirely serviceable for this purpose
and much richer in culture. They continue the line of study in classic
literature, and give ground for suggestive comparisons and reviews which
should not be neglected. There is a strong tendency in our time to put
inferior reading matter, in the form of information readers, science
primers, short history stories, geographical readers, newspapers, and
specially prepared topics on current events, into reading classes. These
things may do well enough in their proper place in geography, history,
natural science, or general lessons, but they should appear scarcely at
all in reading lessons. Preserve the reading hour for that which is
choicest in our prose and verse, mainly in the form of shorter or longer
masterpieces of literature.
Secondly, many books should be brought to the attention of the children
which they may read outside of school. The regular reading exercises
should give the children a lively and attractive introduction to some of
the best authors, and a taste for the strength and beauty of their
productions. But the field of literature is so wide and varied that many
things can only be suggested, which will remain for the future leisure
and choice of readers. Children might, however, be made acquainted with
some of the best books suited to their age for which there is not school
time. Many of the best books, like "Ivanhoe," "Quentin Durward,"
"Captains Courageous," "Swiss Family Robinson," and "Nicholas Nickleby,"
cannot be read in school. They should be in the school library, and the
teacher should often refer to them and to others suggested by the
regular reading, which give deeper and wider views into life.
12. In the use of the symbols and language forms of reading, the
children should be led on to freedom and self-activity. How to get the
mastery of these forms in the early reading work is discussed in the
"Special Method in Primary Reading and Story."
In the fourth and fifth years of school, children should learn to use
the dictionary. It is a great means of self-help when they have learned
to interpret the dictionary easily. But special lessons are necessary to
teach children: first, how to find words in the dictionary; second, how
to interpret the diacritical markings so as to get a correct
pronunciation; and third, how to discriminate among definitions. Adults
and even teachers are often deficient in these particulars, and children
will not form habits of using the dictionary with quick and easy
confidence without continuous, attentive care on the teacher's part. The
best outcome of such training is the conscious power of the child to
help himself, and there is nothing in school work more deserving of
encouragement.
The system of diacritical markings used in the dictionary should be put
on the blackboard, varied illustrations of the markings given, and the
application of these markings to new words in the dictionary discovered.
Lack of success in this work is chiefly due to a failure to pursue this
plan steadily till ease and mastery are gained and habits formed.
In the later grades these habits of self-help should be kept up and
extended further to the study of synonyms, root words and their kindred,
homonyms, prefixes and suffixes, and the derived meanings of words.