pleasure, till he knows whether the writer of it be a black
or a fair man, of a mild or choleric disposition, married or
a bachelor, with other particulars of the like nature, that
conduce very much to the right understanding of an author.
I may frankly confess that this is so entirely untrue of myself that
I am perhaps not a fair judge for others. Since it is to me a matter
almost of indifference who wrote a book, where or when he lived, what
he was and what he did, I have not perhaps estimated rightly the
effect of biography on children. I am firm in my belief, however, that
for making literature more clear, more vivid, more attractive, the
effect of a knowledge of the author's life is with children apt to be
practically nothing. If they are interested in a book, they may on that
account like to know something of the man who wrote it, but I have yet
to find a student who really cared for a piece of literature because he
had been made to learn facts about the author. That a book was written
in a given age will account to him for fashions of thought strange
to-day, but he is seldom able to carry such analysis beyond the most
general idea.
In regard to helping scholars in the secondary schools to understand
a given piece of literature by instructing them about the personality
of the writer, I am quite as skeptical. It may be that one lad in a
hundred may come to a better appreciation of a book from what he knows
of the temperament of the author. It is possible to point this out in
occasional striking instances. If a boy read "A Modest Proposal," a
teacher naturally calls attention to the character of Swift as having
determined the ferocious form which this plea for humanity has taken;
in dealing with "The Journal of the Plague Year" it is inevitable that
the instructor speak of the journalistic tendency of Defoe, which led
him to write on topics which were at the moment before the public. In
either case the result is not important in the sense of going much
beyond what the student may be made to feel without any mention of the
writer or the writer's peculiarities.
It is very easy to delude ourselves into feeling that we are being
helpful when in reality we are simply being pedagogic. If our pupils
were so far advanced as to be able to perceive the subtle relations
between character and literature, between the nature of a writer and
the interpretation we are to put upon what he has written, they would
in most cases be better fitted to instruct us than to receive any
instruction we are able to furnish. It is sometimes well to give pupils
things which we are aware they cannot grasp; to show them the existence
of lines of thought which they are not yet qualified to carry out.
Our aim in this is to broaden their perceptions, and to direct them
toward truths which later they may investigate for themselves. In the
secondary schools, however, very little of this sort can be profitably
done in connection with anything so complex and subtle as the relation
of the character of an author to his work. Young people must take
literature at its face value, so to say, and in teaching them to do
this is more than room for all the energies a teacher in these grades
can bring to bear.
The history of literature, its development, its relations to the
evolution of human thought, should all be as far as possible familiar
to the teacher; and no instructor with knowledge and enthusiasm is
likely to ignore any of these in dealing with masterpieces. They must
all, however, be brought forward with care, for it is easy to overwhelm
the mind of the young, especially in an age like the present when a
child goes to school with attention already strained by the imperative
and insistent calls of daily life. Students on leaving the high school
should be familiar with the place in the centuries of authors they have
especially studied, and of the score or so of writers most important
in English literature from Chaucer down. With the exact details of
biography they need not have been concerned. If they have had curiosity
enough to look these up as a matter of individual interest, it is
well, although I am not sure that anything is gained by encouraging
this research. To know of Shakespeare, of Chaucer, and of Milton, for
instance, what may be put into a dozen lines; and of lesser writers to
have proportionate information, seems to me ample. The work and not the
worker is of importance; the book and not the author; the poem and not
the poet.
Many teachers will not agree with me in giving to the personality and
the biographies of writers so small a place. Every man must judge by
his own experience, and I can only say that every year I deal with
classes in literature I find myself deliberately giving less attention
to the history of literature. I have insisted already upon the danger
that such study shall take the place of the consideration of literature
itself, and I have now attempted to reënforce that thought by stating
definitely what it seems to me wise to attempt in the secondary
schools. I do not desire to be dogmatic, however, and here as elsewhere
the conclusion of the whole matter is that while the question of the
wisdom of giving extended instruction in literary history or biography
is to be carefully considered, each instructor must frame the answer
according to personal experience and the individual needs of any given
class.
XVII
VOLUNTARY READING
No teacher who is really concerned with the development of the pupil's
mind can afford to ignore outside influences. Indeed, even were a
teacher conceivable who, consciously or unconsciously, cared only to
drag scholars over the prescribed course, he would yet be forced to
take into account the effect of every-day life and circumstance, and
under existing conditions every teacher is sure to find that he is to
a great extent obliged to do the work of the home in all that relates
to the æsthetic training of a large number of children. In teaching
literature it is not only wise but it is easy to discover and to a
large extent to influence whatever reading pupils do of their own will
outside of the required work.
Thoroughly to accomplish all that a teacher desires, or even all that
is often expected of him, would be possible only to the gods; and it
is evident enough that no instructor can exercise complete parental
supervision over all the life of the pupils under him. Certain things
in the training of the young are accomplished at home or go forever
undone. Perhaps the most serious difficulty in this whole complicated
business of education is that the schoolmaster is so largely called
upon to undo what is done outside the schoolroom. He may at least be
thankful that in the matter of reading he is dealing with something
tangible, something in which so many of his flock may with skilful
management be influenced.
In a leaflet published under the auspices of the New England
Association of Teachers of English, "The Voluntary Reading of High
School Scholars," Professor W. C. Bronson, of Brown University,
comments on the fact that the mind of the young person is likely to
perceive little relation between the literature administered at school
and the books voluntarily read outside. He says:
Many of our high-school youth are leading a double life in
things literary: in the class-room Doctor Jekyll studies the
lofty idealism of "Comus" or "Paradise Lost;" outside, Mr.
Hyde revels in the yellow journalism and the flashy novel; and
in many cases Doctor Jekyll does not even realize that he has
changed into another and lower being.
The difficulty in making boys and girls realize a connection between
school-work and actual life is familiar to every teacher. I am
personally convinced that one reason for this—although obviously not
the only one—is the modern tendency to diminish the sense of value and
necessity by too much yielding to the inclination of the child. Coaxing
along the line of the least resistance is sure to produce an effective
even if hardly conscious indifference, which is far less healthy than
the temper of mind bred by insistence upon progress along the line
of duty. Be that as it may, however, the modern scholar generally
regards school as one thing and life as practically another. Books read
in the class-room, books studied, discussed as a part of formal and
required work, are felt to be remote from daily existence and almost as
something a bit unreal. They may be even enjoyed, and yet seem to the
illogical youthful mind as having a certain adult quality which sets
them apart from any vital connection with the life of youth. It is not
uncommon, I believe, for a boy to like a book in his private capacity,
reading it for simple and unaffected pleasure, and yet to feel it
almost a duty to be bored by the same book when it comes up as a part
of the work of the school-room.
Very likely a hint of the explanation of the whole matter is to be
found in this last fact. In the first place the work of the schoolroom,
however gently administered, represents compulsion, and we have
trained the rising generation to feel that compulsion is a thing to
be abhorred. Perhaps nothing could ever make school-work the same
as the life which is voluntary and spontaneous; but modern methods
have generally not succeeded in minimizing this difficulty. In the
second place, teachers are too often uncareful or unable to soften the
differences between reading without responsibility of thoroughness
and reading with the consciousness that class-room questionings may
lie beyond. Almost any child has the power of treating a book or a
poem as a friend when he reads for pleasure and of regarding the same
book as an enemy when it becomes a lesson. The thing is normal and not
unhealthy; but it is to be reckoned with and counteracted.
Professor Bronson, in his brief discussion of the matter, goes on to
remark that where the Jekyll and Hyde attitude of mind exists—which to
some degree, I believe, would be in every pupil—
The first task of the teacher is to make the pupil fully
realize it and to urge upon him the necessity of discrimination
in his voluntary reading. For this purpose ridicule of trashy
books by name and praise of good books, with reasons why they
are good, may well fill the part of a recitation period, now
and then, even though the routine work suffer a little. For the
same purpose, it is very desirable that more of the best modern
literature be made a part of the English course, especially
in the earlier years, when the pupil's taste is forming, for
it is easier to bring such works into close relation with his
voluntary reading. The teacher of English may also consider
himself recreant if he does not give his class advice about
the reading of magazines and instructions how to read the
newspapers.
With the spirit of this I agree entirely. The letter does not seem
to me entirely satisfactory. I have learned to be a little afraid
of ridicule as a means of affecting the minds of the young in any
direction. It is the easiest of methods, but no less is it the one
which requires the most prudence and delicacy. It is the one which is
most surely open to the error of the point of view. If the teacher
tries to lessen the inclination of pupils for specific books by
ridicule, he can do no good unless he is able to make the class feel
that these books are ridiculous not only according to the standards of
the teacher but according to the standard of the child. To prove that
from the instructor's point of view a book is poor and silly amounts
to little if the work really appeals to the young. No more is effected
than would be accomplished if the teacher told lusty lads that to him
playing ball seemed a foolish form of amusement. They appreciate at
once that he is speaking from a point of view which is not theirs and
which they have no wish to share. He must be able to make it evident
that the book in question, with its attractions, which he must frankly
acknowledge, is poor when judged by standards which the pupils feel to
be true and which belong to the sphere of boyhood.
I confess with contrition that in my zeal for good literature I have in
earlier days spoken contemptuously of popular and trashy books which
I had reason to think my boys probably enjoyed and admired. I believe
I was wrong. Now I do not hesitate to say what I think about any book
when a student asks me, but I make it a rule never in class to attack
specific books or authors for anything but viciousness, and that
question is hardly likely to arise in the secondary schools. I cannot
afford to run the risk of alienating the sympathies of my pupils,
and of arousing a feeling that my point of view is so far removed
from theirs that they cannot trust my opinions to be sympathetic.
The normal attitude of the child toward the adult is likely enough
to be that of believing "grown-ups" to be so far from understanding
what children really care for as to be entirely untrustworthy in the
selection of reading. The child disregards or distrusts the judgments
of his elders not on abstract grounds, but merely from an instinctive
feeling that adults do not look at things from his point of view. I
always fear lest by an unwise condemnation of a book which a lad has
enjoyed I may be strengthening this perfectly natural and inevitably
stubborn conviction.
The first and most important means of influencing outside reading
is by impressing upon the child's mind the idea that he is studying
literature chiefly for the sake of reading to himself and for himself.
About this should be no doubt or uncertainty. No child should for
a moment be allowed to suppose that such dealing with books as is
possible in the school-room can be chiefly for its own sake, can be
so much an end as a means. To allow him to suppose that the few works
he goes over can be held adequately to represent the great literary
treasures of the race, or that he can be supposed to do more than to
learn how to deal with literature for himself, is at once to make
instruction in this branch more an injury than a benefit. It would
be no more reasonable than to allow him to think that he learns the
multiplication-table for the sake of his school "sums" rather than
that he may have an effective tool to help him in the practical affairs
of life.
To influence outside work of any sort is difficult, especially in
city schools where the pupils are subject to so many distractions.
The teacher is generally obliged to make his effort in this direction
almost entirely individual, treating no two scholars exactly in the
same way, and he is not infrequently obliged to employ a considerable
amount of shrewdness in the process. "When I wish to talk to John Smith
about his reading," a clever teacher said in my hearing, "I send to him
to see me about his spelling, or his handwriting, or anything to give
an excuse for a chat. Then I bring in the thing I am aiming at as if by
accident." The number of instructors possessed of the adroitness, the
time, and the patience for this sort of finesse is probably not large;
but much may be done by words dropped apparently by chance, if only the
instructor has the matter earnestly at heart.
How far the relation of books in the required reading to books read
voluntarily may profitably be insisted upon in class must depend
largely upon the particular pupils involved. Every teacher will
certainly do well to find out what his students are reading outside,
if they are reading anything, and he should then consider what use to
make of his knowledge. The very fact that he concerns himself about
the matter will call the attention of the class to the fact that a
connection exists; and that it is real enough to be worth heeding.
Any wise teacher will find an advantage in having indications of the
natural tastes and inclinations of those he is trying to train, and to
know what the boys and girls really like to read will often correct a
tendency to speak of the required readings in a tone that is outside
the range of the sympathies of the scholars. If he knows that the girls
are fond of weeping over "The Broken Heart of the Barmaid," that the
boys revel in "The Bloody Boot-jack," that both find "Mrs. Pigs of the
Potato-patch" exquisitely amusing, he sees at once that he must be
cautious in dwelling on the pathos of "Evangeline," the romance of "The
Flight of a Tartar Tribe," or the humor of Charles Lamb. Children fed
on intellectual viands so coarse would find real literature insipid,
and must be trained with frank acceptance of that fact.
To say that teachers may also often do something in the way of arousing
parents to do their part in guiding the reading of children is to go
somewhat outside of my field. The public asks so much of teachers
already that any hint of labor in the homes of pupils seems—and
in many cases would be—nothing less than the suggestion of an
impossibility. If I were to urge the matter, I should do it purely on
the ground that teachers may sometimes greatly lessen the difficulty
of the task they undertake in the school-room by a little judicious
labor in the home. In the public schools to-day many children, perhaps
even a majority, come from homes wherein no literary standard is
apparent, and where for the most part none exists. They are being given
a training which their parents did not have, and they feel themselves
better able to direct their elders in things intellectual than their
fathers and mothers are to advise them. In these cases, certainly very
numerous, the teacher must accept the inevitable, and do what he can by
inducing his pupils to talk with him about their outside reading. Where
parents are more cultivated, much may often be effected by the simple
request or suggestion that the young folk be supervised a little in the
choice of books. The teacher must of course use tact in doing anything
in this line, especially in those cases where such a request is most
needed. Parents who pay least attention to such matters are especially
likely to resent interference with their prerogative of neglecting
their children, though they may generally be reached by the flattery
of a carefully phrased request for coöperation. Few things are more
delicate to handle than neglected duties, and the fathers and mothers
who shirk all responsibility for the mental training of their offspring
must be approached as if they jealously tried to leave nothing in this
line for any teacher to do.
The most common fault of young people to-day in connection with reading
is the neglect of books altogether or the devouring of fiction of a
poor quality. To urge boys and girls to read good books or to admonish
them to avoid poor ones is seldom likely to effect much. Such direct
and general appeal is sure to seem to them part of the teacher's
professional routine work, and not to alter their inclinations or to
make any especial difference with their practice. Children are led
to care for good reading only by being made acquainted with books
that appeal to them; and they are protected against poor or injurious
reading only by being given a taste for what is better.
This summing-up of the situation is easily made, but how to make
children acquainted in a vital and pleasant fashion with good books and
how to cultivate the taste is really the whole problem which we are
studying. This is the aim and the substance of all genuine teaching
of literature, and everything in these talks is an attempt to help
toward an answer. When the problem of voluntary reading has been
satisfactorily solved the work of the teacher is practically done,
for the pupil is sure to go forward in the right direction whether he
is led or not. All that treatment of literature which for convenience
I have called "inspirational" is directly in the line of developing
and raising the taste of young readers, and beyond this I do not see
that specific rules can be given. Personal influence is after all
what tells, and the most that can be done here is to call attention
to the fact that in so far as a teacher can influence and direct the
voluntary reading of a pupil he has secured a most efficient aid to his
school-work in literature.
XVIII
IN GENERAL
Throughout these talks I have tried to deal with the teaching of
literature in practical fashion, not letting theory lead me to forget
the conditions actually existing. To consider an ideal state of things
might be interesting, but it would hardly help the teacher bothered
by the difficulties of every-day school-work. I have intended always
to keep well within the field of ordinary experience, and to make
suggestions applicable to average teaching. How well I have succeeded
can be judged better by teachers than by me; but I wish in closing
to insist that at least I believe that what I have said is every-day
common sense.
I have throughout assumed always that no teacher worthy of the name
can be content with merely formal or conventional results, but will be
determined that pupils shall be brought to some understanding of what
literature really is and of why it is worthy of serious attention—to
some appreciation, in a word, of literature as an art. If an instructor
could be satisfied with fitting boys and girls for examinations,
nothing could be simpler or easier; but I am sure that I am right in
believing that our public-school teachers are eagerly anxious to
make of this study all that is possible in the line of developing and
ennobling their pupils.
Every earnest teacher knows that literature cannot be taught by
arbitrary methods. The handling of classes studying the masterpieces
of genius must be shaped by the knowledge and the inspiration of the
individual teacher or it is naught. Neither I nor another may give a
receipt for strengthening the imagination, for instilling taste, for
arousing enthusiasm. All that any book of this sort can effect, and all
that I have endeavored to do, is to protest against methods that are
formal and deadening, to offer suggestions which may—even if only by
disagreement—help to make definite the teacher's individual ideas, and
to warn against dangers which beset the path of all of us to whom is
committed the high office of teaching this noble art.
The idea which I have hoped most strongly to enforce is the possibility
of arousing in children, even in those bred without refining or
intellectual influences, an appreciation of the spirit and the
teachings of the great writers, a love for good books which may
lead them to go on with the study after they have passed beyond the
school-room. The best literature is so essentially human, it so truly
and so irresistibly appeals to natural instincts and interests, that
for its appreciation nothing is needed but that it be understood. To
produce and to cultivate such understanding should be, I believe, the
chief aim of any course in literature.
The understanding and the appreciation must of course vary according
to the temperament and the responsiveness of the child. Miracles are
not to be expected. No teacher need suppose that the street Arab and
the newsboy will lie down with Browning and rise up with Chaucer; that
Sally and Molly will give up chewing gum for Shakespeare, or that Tom,
Dick, and Harry will prefer Wordsworth to football. In his own way and
to his own degree, however, each child will enjoy whatever literature
he has comprehended. As far as he can be made to care for anything not
directly personal or appealing to the senses, he may be made to care
for this. Nature has taken care of the matter of fitting children to
understand and to love literature as it has prepared them to desire
life. To bring the young into appreciation of the best that has been
thought and recorded by man, there is but one way: make them familiar
with it.
It is a mistake to suppose, moreover, that an especial sort of books is
needed for children. A selection there should be, and it is manifestly
necessary to exercise common sense in choice of works for study. A
class that will be deeply interested in "Macbeth" would be simply
puzzled and bored by "Troilus and Cressida." Childish games for the
intellect there may be, as there are childish amusements for the body;
but so far as serious training is concerned there is neither adult
literature nor juvenile literature, but simply literature.