CHARACTER II.
"The Parts and Signes of Goodnesse are many. If a Man be
Gracious and Curteous to Strangers, it shewes he is a
Citizen of the World, And that his Heart is no Island cut
off from other Lands, but a Continent that joynes to them.
If he be Compassionate towards the Afflictions of others,
it shewes that his Heart is like the noble Tree, that is
wounded to selfe when it gives Balme. If he easily Pardons
and Remits Offences, it shewes that his minde is planted
above Injuries, So that he cannot be shot. If he be
Thankfull for small Benefits, it shewes that he weighes
Men's Mindes, and not their Trash. But above all, if he
have St. Paul's Perfection, that he would wish to be an
Anathema from Christ, for the Salvation of his Brethren, it
shewes much of a Divine Nature, and a kinde of Conformity
with Christ himselfe."--BACON, "Of Goodnesse."
No one who has the good of children at heart, and the training of
their characters, can leave the subject without some grave thoughts on
the formation of their own character, which is first in order of
importance, and in order of time must go before, and accompany their
work to the very end.
"What is developed to perfection can make other things like unto
itself." So saints develop sanctity in others, and truth and
confidence beget truth and confidence, and the spirit of enterprise
calls out the spirit of enterprise, and constancy trains to endurance
and perseverance, and wise kindness makes others kind, and courage
makes them courageous, and in its degree each good quality tends to
reproduce itself in others. Children are very delicately sensitive to
these influences, they respond unconsciously to what is expected of
them, and instinctively they imitate the models set before them. They
catch a tone, a gesture, a trick of manner with a quickness that is
startling. The influence of mind and thought on mind and thought
cannot be so quickly recognized, but tells with as much certainty, and
enters more deeply into the character for life. The consideration of
this is a great incentive to the acquirement of self-knowledge and
self-discipline by those who have to do with children. The old codes
of conventionality in education, which stood for a certain system in
their time, are disappearing, and the worth of the individual becomes
of greater importance. This is true of those who educate and of those
whom they bring up. As the methods of modern warfare call for more
individual resourcefulness, so do the methods of the spiritual
warfare, now that we are not supported by big battalions, but each one
is thrown back on conscience and personal responsibility. Girls as
well as boys have to be trained to take care of themselves and be
responsible for themselves, and if they are not so trained, no one can
now be responsible for them or protect them in spite of themselves.
Therefore, the first duty of those who are bringing up Catholic
girls is to be themselves such as Catholic girls must be later on.
This example is a discourse "in the vulgar tongue" which cannot
be misunderstood, and example is not resented unless it seems
self-conscious and presented of set purpose. The one thing necessary
is to be that which we ought to be, and that is to say, in other
words, that the fundamental virtue in teaching children is a great and
resolute sincerity. Sincerity is a difficult virtue to practise and is
too easily taken for granted. It has more enemies than appear at first
sight. Inertness of mind, the desire to do things cheaply, dislike of
mental effort, the tendency to be satisfied with appearances, the wish
to shine, impatience for results, all foster intellectual insincerity;
just as, in conduct, the wish to please, the spirit of accommodation
and expediency, the fear of blame, the instinct of concealment, which
is inborn in many girls, destroy frankness of character and make
people untrue who would not willingly be untruthful. Yet even
truthfulness is not such a matter of course as many would be willing
to assume. To be inaccurate through thoughtless laziness in the use of
words is extremely common, to exaggerate according to the mood of the
moment, to say more than one means and cover one's retreat with "I
didn't mean it," to pull facts into shape to suit particular ends, are
demoralizing forms of untruthfulness, common, but often unrecognized.
If a teacher could only excel in one high quality for training girls,
probably the best in which she could excel would be a great sincerity,
which would train them in frankness, and in the knowledge that to be
entirely frank means to lay down a great price for that costly
attainment, a perfectly honourable and fearless life. [1--"A woman,
if it be once known that she is deficient in truth, has no resource.
Have, by a misuse of language, injured or lost her only means of
persuasion, nothing can preserve her from falling into contempt of
nonentity. When she is no longer to be believed no on will take the
trouble to listen to her...no one can depend on her, no on rests
any hope on her, the words of which she makes use have no meaning."
--Madame Necker de Saussure, "Progressive Education."]
It sometimes happens that the realization of this truth comes
comparatively late in life to those who ought to have recognized it
years before. Thinking along the surface of things, and in particular
repeating catchwords and platitudes and trite maxims on the subject of
sincerity, is apt to make us believe that we possess the quality we
talk about, and as it is impossible to have anything to do with the
education of children without treating of sincerity and truthfulness,
it is comparatively easy to slip into the happy assumption that one is
truthful, because one would not deliberately be otherwise. But it
takes far more than this to acquire real sincerity of life in the
complexity and artificiality of the conditions in which we live.
"And we have been on many thousand lines,
And we have shown, on each, spirit and power;
But hardly have we, for one little hour,
Been on our own line, have we been ourselves.
* * * *
"Our hidden self, and what we say and do
Is eloquent, is well--but 'tis not true!"
MATTHEW ARNOLD, "The Buried Life."
Sincerity requires the recognition that to be honestly oneself is more
impressive for good than to be a very superior person by imitation. It
requires the renunciation of some claims to consideration and esteem,
and the acceptance of limitations (a different thing from acquiescence
in them, for it means the acceptance of a lifelong effort to be what
we aspire to be, with a knowledge that we shall never fully attain
it). It requires that we should bear the confusion of defeat without
desisting from the struggle, that we should accept the progressive
illumination of what is still unaccomplished, and keep the habitual
lowliness of a beginner with the unconquerable hopefulness which comes
of a fixed resolution to win what is worth winning. Let those who have
tried say whether this is easy.
But in guiding children along this difficult way it is not wise to
call direct attention to it, lest their inexperience and sensitiveness
should turn to scrupulosity and their spontaneity be paralysed. It is
both more acceptable and healthier to present it as a feat of courage,
a habit of fearlessness to be acquired, of hardihood and strength of
character. The more subtle forms of self-knowledge belong to a later
period in life.
Another quality to be desired in those who have to do with children
is what may--for want of a better word--be called vitality, not
the fatiguing artificial animation which is sometimes assumed
professionally by teachers, but the keenness which shows forth a
settled conviction that life is worth living. The expression of this
is not self asserting or controversial, for it is not like a garment
put on, but a living grace of soul, coming from within, born of
straight thinking and resolution, and so strongly confirmed by faith
and hope that nothing can discourage it or make it let go. It is a
bulwark against the faults which sink below the normal line of life,
dullness, depression, timidity, procrastination, sloth and sadness,
moodiness, unsociability--all these it tends to dispel, by its quiet
and confident gift of encouragement. And though so contrary to the
spirit of childhood, these faults are found in children--often in
delicate children who have lost confidence in themselves from being
habitually outdone by stronger brothers and sisters, or in slow minds
which seem "stupid" to others and to themselves, or in natures too
sensitive to risk themselves in the melee. To these, one who brings
the gift of encouragement comes as a deliverer and often changes the
course of their life, leading them to believe in themselves and their
own good endowments, making them taste success which rouses them to
better efforts, giving them the strong comfort of knowing that
something is expected of them, and that if they will only try, in one
way if not in another, they need not be behind the best. At some
stage in life, and especially in the years of rapid growth, we all
need encouragement, and often characters that seem to require only
repression are merely singing out of tune from the effort to hold out
against blank discouragement at their failures to "be good," or to
divert their mind forcibly from their fits of depression. To be
scolded accentuates their trouble and tends to harden them; to grow
a shell of hardness seems for the moment their only defence; but if
some one will meet their efforts half-way, believing in them with a
tranquil conviction that they will live through these difficulties and
_find themselves_ in due time, they can be saved from much unhappiness
of their own making, though not of their own fault, and their growth
will not be arrested behind an unnatural shell of defence.
The strong vitality and gift of encouragement which can give this
help are also of value in saving from the morbid and exaggerated
friendships which sometimes spoil the best years of a girl's
education. If the character of those who teach them has force enough
not only to inspire admiration but to call out effort, it may rouse
the mind and will to a higher plane and make the things of which it
disapproves seem worthless. There are moments when the leading mind
must have strength enough for two, but this must not last. Its glory
is to raise the mind of the learner to equality with itself, not to
keep it in leading strings, but to make it grow so that, as the master
has often been outstripped by the scholar, the efforts of the younger
may even stimulate the achievements of the elder, and thus a noble
friendship be formed in the pursuit of what is best.
Educators of youth are exposed to certain professional dangers, which
lie very close to professional excellences of character. There is the
danger of remaining young for the sake of children, so that something
of mature development will be lacking. If there is not a stimulus from
outside, and it is not supplied for by an inward determination to
grow, the mental development may be arrested and contented-ness at a
low level be mistaken for the limit of capacity. A great many people
are mentally lazy, and only too ready to believe that they can do no
more.
Many teachers are yoked to an examination programme sufficiently
loaded to call for a great deal of pressure along a low level, and
they may easily mistake this harassing activity for real mental work,
and either be indeed hindered, or consider themselves absolved from
anything more. The penalty of it is a gradual decline of the unused
powers, growing difficulty of sustained attention, dislike for what
requires effort of mind, loss of wider interests, restlessness and
superficiality in reading, and other indications of diminution of
power in the years when it ought to be on the increase. Is this the
fault of those who so decline in power? It would be hard to say that
it is so universally, for some no doubt are pressed through necessity
to the very limits of their time and of their endurance. Yet
experience goes to prove that if a mental awakening really takes
place the most unfavourable circumstances will not hinder a rapid
development of power. Abundance of books and leisure and fostering
conditions are helps but not essentials for mental growth. If few
books can be had, but these are of the best, they will do more for the
mind by continued reading than abundance for those who have not yet
learned to use it. If there is little leisure the value of the
hardly-spared moments is enhanced; we may convince ourselves of this
in the lives of those who have reached eminence in learning, through
circumstances apparently hopeless. If the conditions of life are
unfavourable, it is generally possible to find one like-minded friend
who will double our power by quickening enthusiasm or by setting the
pace at which we must travel, and leading the way. There may be side
by side in the same calling in life persons doing similar work in like
circumstances, with like resources, of whom one is contentedly
stagnating, feeling satisfied all the time that duty is done and
nothing neglected--and this may be true up to a certain point--while
the other is haunted by a blessed dissatisfaction, urged from within
to seek always something better, and compelling circumstances to
minister to the growth of the mind. One who would meet these two again
after the interval of a few months would be astonished at the distance
which has been left between them by the stagnation of one and the
advance of the other.
Another danger is that of becoming dogmatic and dictatorial from the
habit of dealing with less mature intelligences, from the absence of
contradiction and friction among equals, and the want of that most
perfect discipline of the mind--intercourse with intellectual
superiors. Of course it is a mark of ignorance to become oracular and
self-assured, but it needs watchfulness to guard against the tendency
if one is always obliged to take the lead. Teaching likewise exposes
to faults perhaps less in themselves but far reaching in their effect
upon children; a little observation will show how the smallest
peculiarities tell upon them, either by affecting their dispositions
or being caught by them and reproduced. To take one example among
many, the pitch and intonation of the voice often impress more than
the words. A nurse with a querulous tone has a restless nursery; she
makes the high-spirited contradictory and the delicate fretful. In
teaching, a high-pitched voice is exciting and wearing to children;
certain cadences that end on a high note rouse opposition, a
monotonous intonation wearies, deeper and more ample tones are
quieting and reassuring, but if their solemnity becomes exaggerated
they provoke a reaction. Most people have a certain cadence which
constantly recurs in their speaking and is characteristic of them, and
the satisfaction of listening to them depends largely upon this
characteristic cadence. It is also a help in the understanding of
their characters. Much trouble of mind is saved by recognizing that a
certain cadence which sounds indignant is only intended to be
convincing, and that another which sounds defiant is only giving to
itself the signal for retreat. Again, for the teacher's own sake,
it is good to observe that there are tones which dispose towards
obedience, and others which provoke remonstrance and, as Mme.
Necker de Saussure remarks: "It is of great consequence to prevent
remonstrances and not allow girls to form a habit of contradicting and
cavilling, or to prolong useless opposition which annoys others and
disturbs their own peace of mind."
There are "teacher's manners" in many varieties, often spoiling
admirable gifts and qualities, for the professional touch in this is
not a grace but puts both children and "grown-ups" on the defensive.
There is the head mistress's manner which is a signal to proceed with
caution, the modern "form mistress's" or class mistress's manner, with
an off-hand tone destined to reassure by showing that there is nothing
to be afraid of, the science mistress's manner with a studied
quietness and determination that the knife-edge of the balance shall
be the standard of truthfulness, the professionally encouraging
manner, the "stimulating" manner, the manner of those whose ambition
is to be "an earnest teacher," the strained tone of one whose ideal
is to to be overworked, the kindergarten manner, scientifically
"awakening," giving the call of the decoy-duck, confidentially
inviting co operation and revealing secrets--these are types, but
there are many others.
Such mannerisms would seem to be developed by reliance on books of
method, by professional training imparted to those who have not enough
originality to break through the mould, and instead of following out
principles as lines for personal experiment and discovery, deaden them
into rules and abide by them. The teacher's manner is much more
noticeable among those who have been trained than among the now
vanishing class of those who have had to stand or fall by their own
merits, and find out their own methods. The advantage is not always
with the trained teacher even now, and the question of manner is not
one of minor importance. The true instinct of children and the
sensitiveness of youth detect very quickly and resent a professional
tone; a child looks for freedom and simplicity, and feels cramped if
it meets with something even a little artificial. Children like to
find _real people_, not anxiously careful to improve them, but able
to take life with a certain spontaneity as they like to take it
themselves. They are frightened by those who take themselves too
seriously, who are too acute, too convincing or too brilliant; they do
not like people who appear to be always on the alert, nor those of
extreme temperatures, very ardent or very frigid. The people whom they
like and trust are usually quiet, simple people, who have not
startling ways, and do not manifest those strenuous ideals which
destroy all sense of leisure in life.
Not only little children but those who are growing up resent these
mannerisms and professional ways. They, too, ask for a certain
spontaneity and like to find a _real person_ whom they can understand.
Abstract principles do not appeal to them, but they can understand and
appreciate character, not in one type and pattern alone, for every
character that has life and truth commands their respect and is
acceptable in one way if not in another. It is not the bright colours
of character alone which attract them, they often keep a lifelong
remembrance of those whose qualities are anything but showy. They look
for fairness in those who govern them, but if they find this they
can accept a good measure of severity. They respect unflinching
uprightness and are quick to detect the least deviation from it. They
prefer to be taken seriously on their own ground; things in general
are so incomprehensible that it only makes matters worse to be
approached with playful methods and facetious invitations into
the unknown, for who can tell what educational ambush for their
improvement may be concealed behind these demonstrations. They give
their confidence more readily to grave and quiet people who do not
show too rapturous delight in their performances, or surprise at their
opinions, or--especially--distress at their ignorance. They admire
with lasting admiration those who are hard on themselves and take
their troubles without comment or complaint. They admire courage, and
they can appreciate patience if it does not seem to be conscious of
itself. But they do not look up to a character in which mildness so
predominates that it cannot be roused to indignation and even anger in
a good cause. A power of being roused is felt as a force in reserve,
and the knowledge that it is there is often enough to maintain peace
and order without any need for interference or remonstrance. They are
offended by a patience which looks like weariness, determined if it
were at the last gasp to "improve the occasion" and say something of
educational profit. To "improve the occasion" really destroys the
opportunity; it is like a too expansive invitation to birds to come
and feed, which drives them off in a nutter. Birds come most willingly
when crumbs are thrown as it were by accident while the benefactor
looks another way; and young minds pick up gratefully a suggestion
which seems to fall by the way, a mere hint that things are understood
and cared about, that there is safety beyond the thin ice if one
trusts and believes, that "all shall be well" if people will be true
to their best thoughts. They can understand these assurances and
accept them when something more explicit would drive them back to bar
the door against intruders. All these are truisms to those who have
observed children. The misfortune is that in spite of the prominence
given to training of teachers, of the new name of "Child Study" and
its manuals, there are many who teach children without reaching their
real selves. If the children could combine the result of their
observations and bring out a manual of "Teacher Study" we should have
strange revelations as to how it looks from the other side. We should
be astonished at the shrewdness of the small juries that deliberate,
and the insight of the judges that pronounce sentence upon us, and we
should be convinced that to obtain a favourable verdict we needed very
little subtlety, and not too much theory, but as much as possible of
the very things we look for as the result and crown of our work. We
labour to produce character, we must have it. We look for courage and
uprightness, we must bring them with us. We want honest work, we have
to give proof of it ourselves. And so with the Christian qualities
which we hope to build on these foundations. We care for the faith of
the children, it must abound in us. We care for the innocence of their
life, we must ourselves be heavenly minded, we want them to be
unworldly and ready to make sacrifices for their religion, they must
understand that it is more than all the world to us. We want to secure
them as they grow up against the spirit of pessimism, our own
imperturbable hope in God and confidence in the Church will be more
convincing than our arguments. We want them to grow into the fulness
of charity, we must make charity the most lovable and lovely thing in
the world to them.
The Church possesses the secrets of these things; she is the great
teacher of all nations and brings out of her treasury things new and
old for the training of her children. A succession of teaching orders
of religious, representing different patterns of education, has gone
forth with her blessing to supply the needs of succeeding generations
in each class of the Christian community. When children cannot be
brought up in their own homes, religious seem to be designated as
their natural guardians, independent as they are by their profession
from the claims of personal interest and self-advancement, and
therefore free to give their full sympathy and devotion to the
children under their charge. They have also the independence of their
corporate life, a great power behind the service of the schoolroom in
which they find mutual support, an "Upper Boom" to which they can
withdraw and build up again in prayer and intercourse with one another
their ideals of life and duty in an atmosphere which gives a more
spiritual re-renewal of energy than a holiday of entire forgetfulness.
It is striking to observe that while the so-called Catholic countries
are banishing religious from their schools, there is more and more
inclination among non-Catholic parents who have had experience of
other systems to place their children under the care of religious. And
it was strange to hear one of His Majesty's Inspectors express his
conviction that "it would be ideal if all England could be taught by
nuns!" Thus indirect testimony comes from friendly or hostile sources
to the fact that the Church holds the secret of education, and every
Catholic teacher may gain courage from the knowledge of having that
which is beyond all price in the education of children, that which all
the world is seeking for, and which the Church alone knows that she
possesses in its fulness.