University was to provide the State with a competent leadership. That
involves, however, a subsidiary function of such great importance,
especially as we regard the teaching force, that an added word is needed
both to prevent misunderstanding and to make clear the line of
discussion of this sub-topic. The development of a competent leadership
_is_ the all-embracing function of such an institution, but that can not
be done save as the institution is, at the same time, thru some or all
of its teachers, keeping fully abreast, or well in the lead, of the
discovery of new knowledge and of new applications of knowledge in the
various fields of human endeavor. And this is true because men can not
be leaders in any field of action unless they possess the fullest and
latest items of knowledge obtainable in that particular field, and again
because real leadership can not be developed save thru the use, as
educative material, of the fullest and latest.
What kind of teachers should the university employ? Clearly, teachers
who can do these two things: men of open and enquiring minds, men of
imagination, men who are hungry and thirsty for knowledge, men of
research--men of the laboratory and the library. But that is but one
side; we must also have men of vision, men of great breadth of view, men
of broad human sympathies, men who can take this knowledge, old and new,
and with it, as educative material, help to shape opinions, and mold
characters, and fashion destinies, thus transforming crude, unstable,
and immature youth into men and women of virtue, and knowledge, and
courage, and sanity, and poise, into whose trust, therefore, can be
placed the guiding of a great, free, developing people--men of the
classroom, teachers and inspirers of youth.
The question may well be asked if I mean two _groups_ of teachers, a
_research_ group and a _teaching_ group, neither one acting within the
field of the other. Not necessarily and certainly not absolutely. To
quite an extent the two functions should overlap since each supplements
the other. The man of research should also be a teacher in order both to
keep his human sympathies alive and as a spur to still further search.
And every teacher should be, to some extent, a man of research so that
thru his own joy in discovery he will be able to kindle a like fire in
the minds of others, thus keeping the spirit of discovery alive and
active in the land, and also that he may invite his students to drink at
a living stream instead of a stagnant pool. The teacher who is not also
a student, and continually working at it, is usually but a poor teacher.
But while all this is true, it is probably true also that no person is
equally successful in both fields. Some men are primarily teachers--are
in their element in the classroom engaged with the problems of the
student but only indifferently successful in the laboratory, while
others, at home in the laboratory, are somewhat out of place and
ill-at-ease in the classroom. I shall not attempt to say which of the
two functions is the more important or the more useful. Both are needed
and, as said before, both are needed, to some extent, in each. But, in
the main, where characteristics are marked, the shoemaker should be
allowed to stick to his last. It is a very wise procedure that is more
and more being followed at the present time, in American universities,
of recognizing such differences and making provision for research
professorships that include no teaching duties whatever. The percentage
of these should be small, of course.
What kind of a teacher should the university employ, then? The teacher
who is eager to push the boundaries of human knowledge a little beyond
the point yet reached and who also greatly desires to take knowledge as
an instrument and with it develop boys and girls and equip them for
leadership in the great world of action. So far as possible the two
kinds of service should be performed by the same person, but yet that is
immaterial--the material thing being that both kinds be performed.
What kind of teachers should the university employ? Why, teachers who
not only desire to do these two things, but who also know how to do
them. If one is to do research work, he should know how to do it,
economically and efficiently. His preparation should have included a
certain amount of reflection upon the reasons for research and of
training in the manner of conducting the same. Likewise, if he is to be
a teacher, he should be well grounded in the theory and art of teaching.
If he is going to shape opinions, mold character, give points of view,
develop human minds, then it goes without saying that his preparation
should have included a very thoro study of the human mind in its various
relationships, activities, and stages of development. If a teacher is
expected to equip young men and women for the duties of life as leaders
in the great social, economic, and political activities, he must also
possess great stores of knowledge, and likewise know how to impart that
knowledge so that it will become equally the possession of others.
THE UNIVERSITY TEACHER IN HIS CLASSROOM
The second of my three topics, "The University Teacher in His
Classroom," is an even more intimate one than the one just treated. It
is so intimate that perhaps discretion would be the better part of
valor, but since I am at a considerable distance from the people and the
institutions I am discussing, I feel that I can proceed with comparative
safety.
There is abroad at the present time considerable hostile criticism of
our higher education. Our graduates, it is said, are not able "to
connect up"; "it takes them two or three years after they get out to
find themselves"; "they first have to get rid of a lot of theoretical
notions that have been given them before they can learn the practical
things of life." President Foster of Reed College, Oregon, puts it thus:
"It is possible to graduate from almost any college without an idea in
one's head." Professor Wenley, Head of the Department of Philosophy in
Michigan University, had about the same thought when he gave me his
original definition of an American college as "A so-called institution
of higher learning whose chief accomplishment is the inoculation of
innocent youth against education." Or shall we put it in the words of
our friend Mr. Dooley: "Nowadays when a lad goes to college, the
prisidint takes him into a Turkish room, gives him a cigareet an' says:
Me dear boy, what special branch iv larnin wud ye like to have studied
f'r ye be our compitint perfessors?"
Such are some of the caustic remarks that we occasionally hear. Of
course the situation is always exaggerated in such criticisms; but, as
the old saw puts it, "Where there's so much smoke, there must be some
fire." Where does the trouble lie? All sorts of guesses have been made,
and some careful investigations entered into in an effort to discover
the cause. The outcome of all such consideration, so far as I am able to
learn, throws the responsibility upon the teacher rather than upon the
institution as a whole, and upon his teaching ability rather than upon
any lack of knowledge. We cannot teach, it is said. In spite of the
knowledge that we possess, we do not know how to present that knowledge
so that another can gain it. Nicholas Murray Butler, the brainy
President of Columbia University, says, "The teaching of many very
famous men [in colleges and universities] is distinctly poor; sometimes
it is even worse."
These are rather interesting statements and worthy of thought. What is
meant by teaching, anyway? Teaching involves a double process and two
persons, both active upon the same matter. Both must be successful for
either to be. Teaching is causing to learn, and when there is no
learning, there can have been no teaching. "Learning is not merely the
correlative idea of teaching, but is one of its constituent elements."
No matter how much an instructor may know, no matter how much he may say
nor what he may do, if he doesn't cause the student to put forth those
mental activities that result in learning, he doesn't teach. And it is
claimed that, in many cases, our university instructors do not know how
to do this. He knows but he does not know how to cause another to know,
is a common criticism.
I suppose it is true, tho loyalty makes me rather dislike to admit it,
that with us the poorest teaching in our entire educational system is
done in colleges and universities. My own observation both as a student
and as a teacher all along the line leads me to say that, in the main,
our best teaching is done in the elementary grades, second best in the
high schools, and poorest in the higher institutions. Another puts it
thus: "We have excellent teaching in the lower primary grades and in the
graduate schools, but between these two extremes, we can call it
teaching only by courtesy." Another, the president of a State
University, is reported to have said, "I have resolved never again to
turn my undergraduates over to young Ph. D.'s. It takes five years to
make a commonsense teacher of a raw doctor fresh from three years of
graduate work."
If these statements are true, and I am afraid that there's much of truth
in them, the situation is rather serious. Still, it isn't at all
surprising when one takes the whole matter into consideration. For
relatively few university instructors have given any attention to the
matter of teaching itself. They have studied the subject matter with
which they are to deal. They have become proficient so far as knowledge
is concerned. No fault can be found with them touching the matter of
erudition. But they have not given any reflective thought to the art of
teaching. They have not made a study of the human mind in its
development in order to know how it receives knowledge as mental
nourishment, and to understand the assimilative process; they have not
given themselves to a systematic and scientific study of human life so
as to know how to handle it in its various moods and characteristics.
How differently these good people would have planned if they had
expected to practise Law, or Medicine or to enter the Ministry! In every
such case they would have made professional preparation for their work.
Isn't it strange that any one should think that this profession--the
most important--could be practised with success in its higher realms, by
people who have never given its practise one moment's attention?
President Butler, in giving reasons for poor college teaching, says,
"Too few instructors are interested in education."
I am reminded of Socrates' shrewd parody of a supposed speech of
Euthydemus who, totally ignorant of statecraft, desired election to an
important position in the government of the city of Athens. It is
suggestive here: "I, O man of Athens, have never learned the medical art
from any one, nor have been desirous that any physician should be my
instructor; for I have constantly been on my guard, not only against
learning anything of the art from any one, but even against appearing to
have learned anything; nevertheless confer on me this medical
appointment, for I will endeavor to learn by making experiments upon
you." Comment is unnecessary.
There are three kinds of knowledge that every teacher should possess,
that every successful teacher does possess: first, knowledge of the
subject matter with which he deals; second, knowledge of the human mind
which he is trying to stimulate; and third, knowledge of the way to
bring these two together in a helpful manner. Of the three, I am afraid
that university instructors have, in the main, but the first. At any
rate, all they know of the other two is of an empirical character and
what they have picked up incidentally. There are exceptions, to be sure.
Every worthy institution has them, striking exceptions, too, some of
them are. A few of our older men have become good teachers thru practise
and experiment, and an occasional young man now comes with professional
preparation. But yet, as in so many other matters, the exceptions merely
prove the rule.
Thus equipt, or rather with this serious lack of equipment, the young
university instructor begins his work. If he is, to use the words of the
university president just quoted, "a raw doctor fresh from three years
of graduate work," he probably begins by copying the methods of
procedure of his own recent instructors. He tries to set these immature
boys and girls at research problems and, in classroom, tries to impart
information by the lecture method.
How well I remember such an instance in my own freshman days. I fell
into the hands of such an instructor in Greek. We were reading that most
charming of Greek stories--_The Odyssey_. Textual criticism was this
man's hobby, and we were put to work trying to compare texts, to delve
into the intricacies of form and structure--trying to improve upon
Homer! Such information as we could not find he gave us, in the formal
lecture, day after day. But when we got it, we did not want it because
we did not know what to do with it. Now, I am not quarreling with
textual criticism. It would have been all right for that young doctor
(he was younger than I was at that time) to deal with the facts of
textual criticism, with some people, at some time, but it was all wrong
for him to attempt to give those facts to us in our freshman year in the
College of Arts. They were not adapted to our intellectual needs. They
did not fit into our mental stomachs. We could not keep them down, or
in, or something. But the pathetic fact was that the instructor did not
know that they did not fit. I, being older than many in the class and
thus appreciating better the barrenness of the Greek pasture in which we
were trying to graze, finally managed, by a little skilful maneuver, to
escape and to join another group that happened to be in the care of a
real teacher who knew not only Homer but, as well, freshman boys and
girls, the reasons for teaching Homer to freshmen boys and girls, and
how to do it. He was acquainted with both the science and the art of
teaching. Oh, how green was the pasture here, and how abundant and how
nutritious the food! In all my university experience I recall nothing
more delightful.
But this is ancient history? Yes, I know it is. But yet, I am sorry to
say, history repeats itself. Those three great mistakes that that young
doctor made in my Greek class some twenty or more years ago are being
made this very year by young doctors and by old doctors and by many who
are not doctors at all, in one subject or another, in well-nigh every
college or university in the United States. Our instructors do not know
well enough how to adapt knowledge to human needs; they have the
erroneous notion that the chief function of an educational institution
is to impart information; and, too, many of them are afflicted with the
lecture craze.
Touching these three mistakes, let me say, briefly: first, as to the
adaptation of knowledge: the word _education_ is derived from the Latin
_educo_, _educare_, and means _to nourish_, and nourishment, physical,
mental, or moral, is never secured save as the food is adapted to the
organism. And just as much care as our scientific dietitians give to our
dining-room service, our university instructors should give to the
mental and moral pabulum that they serve to their students, especially
the lower classes if not the entire body of undergraduates. They should
know this knowledge as mental nourishment; they should know the
condition of the mind, and they should know how to select and prepare
this food for digestion and assimilation.
As to the second mistake, the undue emphasis upon the mere imparting of
knowledge: let me quote a few words from President Wilson, uttered when
President of Princeton University: "We should remember," said he, "that
information is not education. The greater part of the work that we are
doing in our colleges to-day is to impart information." I am afraid that
he is correct. I am very much afraid that that is mainly what we are
doing. But it is wrong. The greater part of our work should not be to
impart knowledge. It should be to assist in interpreting the knowledge
that the student himself gets--to fit it to his own life needs and to
help him learn how to study and how to think for himself. In other
words, this information in which we deal should not be an end in itself,
but a _means_ to an end. And that end should be development, mental
power, point of view--character. To be sure, we must deal in knowledge
facts (do not, I beg of you, misunderstand me) but not for the mere
possession of those facts.
And lastly the lecture craze, under the domination of which otherwise
sensible people get into the habit of supplying information to students
who already know how to read instead of telling them where to find it
and then discussing it with them. How common it is! But why? Simply
because it is easy. How much easier it is than to conduct a real live
recitation in which there is the give and take, the action and reaction,
of eager vigorous young minds, where the instructor is the agency of
interpretation and the inspiration! To conduct such an exercise with
from thirty to fifty bright college students and keep them on the alert
is no lazy man's task. It requires brains and skill, whereas anybody can
do the other thing! President Foster is correct in saying, "There should
be fewer lectures ... the easiest of all methods of instruction."
Again let me give an illustration drawn from my own sad experience, just
to show what at least some of this lecturing is. This, you see, is
getting to be a confession as well as an exposition. I was taking a
course in the History of Philosophy. It was given by a man well known in
the educational world, then and now. He was well thought of both as a
teacher and a man. He read his lectures from manuscript. We were
supposed to put into our note books every golden word that dropt from
his inspired lips. And the most of us tried to do so, and in the effort
got down some that were not golden. I did as the rest did till one day,
fresh from the lecture, I went into the library and chanced upon a copy
of Burt's "History of Greek Philosophy." I opened it and shortly found
the very discussion, and some of the very sentences, word for word, that
I had just copied with so much labor into my note book. And they were in
print, too, so much easier to read than my note book writing! I at once
sent to the publisher for a copy of the book and took no more notes in
that course. Nor did I take any more courses under that instructor.
And so it was in a course in history--only there the kind old professor
was naïve enough to tell us the name of the book from which he got his
lectures. And again, let me say that history repeats itself. Am I wrong
in my criticism? Let me quote from one whose words carry more weight
than do mine--Nicholas Murray Butler, President of Columbia
University--(Ed. Rev. Apr., 1915, p. 399): "To use--or rather to
abuse--the academic lecture by making it a medium for the conveyance of
mere information is to shut one's eyes to the fact that the art of
printing has been discovered. The proper use of the lecture is the
critical interpretation by the older scholar of the information which
the younger has gained for himself. Its object is to inspire and to
guide and by no means merely to inform."
I do not mean to condemn the lecture method absolutely. There are
certain lines of work in which it is quite necessary. This is true in
some advanced courses, especially in the sciences, where an instructor
is doing both lines of university work--carrying on research and giving
his advanced students the results of his findings. Of course these have
not yet been embodied in a text or other printed form and cannot be thus
given.
And this same justification can be urged for some of the work in our
professional schools where both the material used and the end sought are
different. In still another line of work the lecture is permissible--if
it deal with a relatively new subject or with new phases of an old
subject not yet covered by a satisfactory text. But here it need not
continue long because some enterprising instructor will soon satisfy the
need. The formal lecture has therefore no place in the earlier and but
slight place in the later years of undergraduate work. Its place should
be taken by the text and reference book and the class discussion. One
of the finest accomplishments that we can help our students to gain is
the ability to master the book.
Then, in conclusion, touching the matter of teaching, fidelity to truth
compels me to admit, tho reluctantly, that much of it is very poor. It
satisfies the external demands and that is about all. It is not of a
character to kindle enthusiasm nor to develop high ideals of
scholarship. Much of it, I said, not all. Every institution has some
good teachers, some very excellent ones, but no institution is
overstockt with species of that genus. The great majority of our
undergraduates are poorly taught. That examination mortality is not
greater than it is is due to two fine qualities, one in the student body
and the other in the instructors. It speaks eloquently of the initiative
of the students, and demonstrates that instructors can be fair even if
they can't teach. Many times we know that we are to blame for the poor
work of the student and, knowing it, will not visit the penalty upon the
unoffending head.
The reason for this lamentable situation can be traced to two practises:
In the first place, up to the present time, as said before, very few
prospective college teachers have made any professional preparation for
their work as teachers. In the second place, it is the almost universal
custom to place the freshmen and sophomores, by all means our largest
classes and the ones in greatest need of skilled teachers, in the hands
of young instructors who have not yet learned how to teach. Relief will
come thru two changes; first, when either the State or the governing
board of the college shall demand professional preparation of every one
allowed to occupy a teaching position, just as we do now for positions
in the elementary and secondary schools. And if any one should raise a
question as to the value of such preparation, my only but all-sufficient
answer is to point to the universally recognized improvement in the
character of teaching in those parts of our educational system since
that requirement was put into effect. And the second needed change is
this--for Presidents seeking teachers to ask candidates two questions
instead of one as heretofore: first, of course, the question should be,
"What do you know?" Satisfied as to that, let the second come clear and
strong, "Can you teach?" And until an affirmative answer is
demonstrated, let the appointment be withheld. It might be salutary,
too, in dealing with the forces on the ground, to follow President
Foster's suggestion given in these words: "It would be well if more
teachers were dismissed because they fail to stimulate thinking of any
kind."
I come now to the last of my three sub-topics,
THE UNIVERSITY'S ATTITUDE TOWARD THE PREPARATION OF TEACHERS FOR THE
SCHOOLS OF THE STATE
Fortunately, its discussion need not detain us long. What should be that
attitude? If you will analyze the relationship existing between the
teachers of a state and that state's progress and development, and then
recall my brief discussion of the function of a State University--to
provide leaders--the answer to the question is at once apparent. The
logic of the situation is clear. For what other body of people in a
state are so clearly the state's leaders as the teachers? Always
intellectually and, for the most part, in these days, morally and
physically, the teachers in our schools mold the coming generation and
guide it into paths of progress and accomplishment. This is true of the
teachers of a state more than of any other group of people within its
borders not excepting the ministry.
We have, in the States, a system of State Normal Schools maintained for
the purpose of preparing teachers for the elementary schools. Each state
of the Union has from one to a dozen of these institutions. North Dakota
has three. The course of study covers from one to two years' work in
advance of a four-year high school course. In the East it is usually two
years, in the West, one. This work is partly academic and partly
professional and is always supposed to include a certain amount of
practise teaching under expert supervision.