THE TECHNIQUE OF TEACHING
Our teaching must be made to stick. None but lasting impressions possess
permanent value. The sermons, the lectures, the lessons that we remember
and later dwell upon are the ones that finally are built into our lives
and that shape our thinking and acting. Impressions that touch only the
outer surfaces of the mind are no more lasting than writing traced on
the sand. Truths that are but dimly felt or but partially grasped soon
fade away, leaving little more effect than the shadows which are thrown
on the picture screen.
Especially do these facts hold for the teacher in the church-school
class. For the impressions made in the church-school lesson hour bear a
larger proportion to the entire result than in the public school. This
is because of the nature of the subject we teach, and also because of
the fact that most of our pupils come to the class with little or no
previous study on the lesson material. This leaves them almost
completely dependent on the recitation itself for the actual results of
their church-school attendance. The responsibility thus placed upon the
teacher is correspondingly great, and requires unusual devotion and
skill.
ATTENTION TO KEY
The things that impress us, the things that we remember and apply, are
the things to which we have attended wholly and completely. The mind may
be thought of as a stream of energy. There is only so much volume, so
much force that can be brought to bear upon the work in hand. In
attention the mind's energy is piled up in a "wave" on the problem
occupying our thought, and results follow as they cannot if the stream
of mental energy flows at a dead level from lack of concentration.
Or, again, the mind's energy may be likened to the energy of sunlight as
it falls in a flood through the window upon our desk. This diffuse
sunlight will brighten the desk top and slightly increase its
temperature, but no striking effects are seen. But now take this same
amount of sun energy and, passing it through a lens, focus it on a small
spot on the desk top--and the wood bursts almost at once into flame.
What _diffuse_ energy coming from the sun could never do, _concentrated_
energy easily and quickly accomplished. Attention is to the mind's
energy what the lens is to the sun's energy. It gathers the mental power
into a focus on the lesson to be learned or the truth to be mastered,
and the concentrated energy of the mind readily accomplishes results
that would be impossible with the mental energy scattered or not
directed to the one thing under consideration. The teacher's first and
most persistent problem in the recitation is, therefore, to gain and
hold the highest possible degree of attention.
Three types of appeal to attention.--We are told that there are three
kinds of attention, though this is not strictly true. There is really
only one _kind_ of attention, for attention is but the _concentration of
the mind's energy on one object or thought_. What is meant is that there
are three different _ways of securing_ or appealing to attention. Each
type of attention is named in accordance with the kind of compulsion or
appeal necessary to command it, as follows:
1. _Involuntary_ attention, or attention that is demanded of us by some
sudden or startling stimulus, as the stroke of a bell, the whistle of a
train, an aching tooth, the teacher rapping on the desk with a ruler.
2. _Nonvoluntary_, or spontaneous, attention that we give easily and
naturally, with no effort of self-compulsion. This kind of attention is
compelled by _interest_, and, when left unhindered, will be guided by
the nature of our interest.
3. _Voluntary_ attention, or attention that is compelled by effort and
power of will, and thereby required to concern itself with some
particular object of thought when the mind's pull or desire is in
another direction.
How each type of attention works.--The first of these types of
attention, the _involuntary_, has so little place in education that we
shall not need to discuss it here. The teacher who raps the desk, or
taps the bell to secure attention which should come from interest must
remember that in such case the attention is given to the _stimulus_,
that is, to the signal, and not to the lesson, and this very fact makes
all such efforts to secure attention a distraction in themselves.
The _spontaneous_, or nonvoluntary, attention that arises from interest
is the basis on which all true education and training must be founded.
The mind, and especially the child's mind, is so constituted that its
full power is not brought to bear except under the stimulus and
compulsion of interest. It is the story which is so entrancing that we
cannot tear ourself away from it, the game which is so exciting as to
cause us to forget all else in watching it, the lecture or sermon which
is so interesting that we are absorbed in listening to it, that claims
our best thought and comprehension. It is when our mind's powers are
thus driven by a tidal wave of interest that we are at our best, and
that we receive and register the lasting impressions which become a part
of our mental equipment and character.
This does not mean, however, that there is no place for _voluntary_
attention in the child's training. For not everything can be made so
inviting that the appeal will at all times bring about the concentration
necessary. And in any case a part of the child's education is to learn
self-direction, self-compulsion, and self-control. There are many
occasions when the interest is not sufficient to hold attention steady
to the task in hand; it is at this point that voluntary attention should
come in to add its help to provide the required effort and
concentration. There are many circumstances under which interest will
secure a moderate amount of application of mental energy to the task,
but where the will should step in and command an additional supply of
effort, and so attain full instead of partial results.
Children should, therefore, be trained to _give_ attention. They should
be taught to take and maintain the attitude of attention throughout the
lesson period, and not be allowed to become listless or troublesome the
moment their interest is not held to the highest pitch.
THE APPEAL TO INTEREST
Sometimes we speak of "arousing the child's interest," or of "creating
an interest" in a topic we are teaching. Strictly speaking, this is
incorrect. The child's interest, when rightly appealed to, does not have
to be "aroused," nor does interest have to be "created."
Every normal child is naturally alert, curious, _interested_ in what
concerns him. Who has not taken a child for a walk or gone with a group
of children on an excursion, and been amazed at their capacity for
interest in every object about them and for attention to an endless
chain of impressions from their varied environment? Who has not observed
children in a game, and noted their complete absorption in its changing
aspects? Who has not called a child from an interesting tale in a book
he was reading, and found that it required the combined force of our
authority and the child's will to break the spell of his interest and
separate him from his book? Interest is always ready to flow in
resistless current if we can but find the right channel and a way to set
it free. When we find our class uninterested, therefore, we must first
of all seek the explanation not in the children, but in ourselves, our
methods, or the matter we teach.
Interest depends on comprehension.--First of all we must remember that
_interest never attaches to what the mind does not grasp_. Go yourself
and listen to the technical lecture you do not understand, or try to
read the book that deals with matters concerning which you have no
information; then apply the results of your experience to the case of
the child. The matter we teach the child must have sufficient connection
with his own experience, be sufficiently close to the things he knows
and cares about, so that he has a basis on which to comprehend them. The
_new_ must be related to something _old and familiar_ in the mind to
meet a warm welcome.
If we would secure the child's interest, we must make certain of a
"point of contact" in his own life and meet him on the plane of his own
experience. God smiling in the sunshine, making the flowers grow or
whispering in the breeze is closer to the child than God as "Creator."
God protecting and watching over the child timid and afraid in the dark
is more real than God in his heaven as "protector." We must remember
that not what _we_ feel is of value, but _what the child feels is of
value_ is what will appeal to his interest and attention. And no
exertion or agonizing on our part will create interest in the child in
matters for which his own understanding and experience have not fitted
him. For example, probably no child is ever interested in learning the
church catechism or Bible verses which we prize so highly, but which he
can not understand nor apply; he may be interested in a prize to be had
at the end of the learning, but in this case the interest is in the
reward and not in the matter learned. _Empty words devoid of meaning
never fire interest nor kindle enthusiasm._
Interest attaches to action.--Children are interested more in action,
deeds, and events than in motives, reasons, and explanations. They care
more for the uses to which objects are to be put than for the objects
themselves.
No boy is interested in a bicycle chiefly as an example of mechanical
skill, but, rather, as a means of locomotion. No girl is interested in
dolls just as dolls, nor as a product of the toy maker's skill, but to
play with. It is this quality that makes children respond to the story,
for the story deals with action instead of with explanation and
description. In the story there is life and movement, and not reasoning
and mere assertion. The story presents the lesson in terms of deeds and
events, instead of by means of abstract statement and formal conclusion.
This principle carries over to the child's own participation. Everyone
is most interested in that in which he has an active part. The meeting
in which we presided or made a speech or presented a report is to us a
more interesting meeting than one in which we were a silent auditor. To
the child, personal response is even more necessary. No small part of
the reason why the child "learns by doing" is that he is interested in
doing as he is not interested in mere listening. All good teaching will
therefore appeal to interest through providing the fullest possible
opportunity for the child to have an important share in the lesson. And
this part must be something which _to the child_ is worth doing, and
not, for example, an oral memory drill on words meaningless to the
pupil, nor "expression" work of a kind that lacks purpose and action.
There are always real things to be done if the lesson is vital--personal
experiences to be recounted, special assignments to be reported upon,
maps to be drawn or remodeled, specimens of flowers or plants to be
secured, character parts to be represented in the story, a bit of
history to be looked up, prayers to be said, songs to be sung, or a
hundred other things done which will appeal to the interest and at the
same time fix the points of the lesson.
Interest requires variety and change.--Interest attaches to the _new_,
provided the new is sufficiently related to the fund of experience
already on hand so that it is fully grasped and understood. While there
are certain matters, such as marching, handling supplies, etc., in the
recitation which should be done the same way each time so that they may
become habit and routine, yet there is a wide range of variety possible
in much of the procedure.
The lessons should not be conducted always in the same way. One
recitation may consist chiefly of discussion, with question and answer
between teacher and class. Another may be given largely to reports on
special assignments, with the teacher's comments to broaden and apply
the points. Another may take the form of stories told and illustrations
given by the teacher, or of stories retold by the class from former
lessons. The great thing is to secure change and variety without losing
sight of the real aims of the lesson, and to plan for a pleasant
surprise now and then without lowering the value of the instruction.
Interest is contagious.--Every observing teacher has learned that
interest is contagious. An interested and enthusiastic teacher is seldom
troubled by lack of interest and attention on the part of the class.
Nor, on the other hand, will interest and attention continue on the part
of the class if confronted by a mechanical and lifeless teacher. The
teacher is the model unconsciously accepted and responded to by his
class. He leads the way in interest and enthusiasm. Nor will any sham or
pretense serve. The interest must be real and deep. Even young children
quickly sense any make-believe enthusiasm or vivacity on the part of the
teacher, and their ardor immediately cools.
Children's typical interests have their birth, ripen to full strength,
and fade away by certain broad stages. What will appeal to the child of
five will not appeal to the child of ten, and will secure no response
from the youth of fifteen. Space will not permit even an outline of
these interest-stages here, but genetic psychology has carefully mapped
them out and their nature and order of development should be studied by
every teacher.
FREEDOM FROM DISTRACTIONS
There is no possibility of securing good results from a lesson period
constantly broken in upon by distractions. The mind cannot do its best
work if the attention is diverted every few moments from the train of
thought, requiring a new start every now and then. Every teacher has had
the experience of the sudden drop in interest and concentration that has
come from some interruption, and the impossibility of bringing the class
back to the former level after the break. The loss in a recitation
disturbed by distractions is comparable to the loss of power and
efficiency in stopping a train of cars every half mile throughout its
run instead of allowing it an unbroken trip. Careful planning and good
management can eliminate many of the distractions common to the church
school lesson hour.
Distractions from classes reciting together.--The class should have a
room or space for its own sole use, and not be compelled to recite in a
large room occupied by several other classes. The older Chinese method
of education was to have each pupil study his lesson aloud, each seeking
to drown out the confusion by the force of his voice. Many of our church
schools of the present day remind one of this ancient method. The church
building being planned primarily for adults, not enough classrooms are
provided for the children, and it is a common thing to find half a dozen
classes grouped in the one room, each constantly distracted by the
sights and sounds that so insistently appeal to the senses. It is wholly
impossible to do really good teaching under such conditions.
Every church building should provide classrooms for teaching its
children. If these cannot be had in the original edifice, an addition
should be made of a special school building. As a last resort, a system
of curtains or movable partitions should be provided which will isolate
each class from every other class, and thereby save at least the visual
distractions and perhaps a part of the auditory distractions. To fail to
do this is to cultivate in the child a habit of inattention to the
lesson, and to kill his interest in the church school and its work
because of its failure to impress him or attract his loyalty.
Planning routine to prevent distractions.--Not infrequently a wholly
unnecessary distraction is caused by a poorly planned method of handling
certain routine matters. The writer recently observed a junior class get
under way in what promised to be a very interesting and profitable
lesson. They had an attractive lesson theme, a good teacher, a separate
classroom, and seemed to be mentally alert. Soon after the lesson had
got well started an officer appeared at the door with an envelope for
the collection, and the story was stopped to pass the envelope around
the class. It was not possible after this interruption to pick up the
thread of the lesson without some loss of interest, but the teacher was
skillful and did her best. She soon had the attention of the class again
and the lesson was moving along toward its most interesting part and the
practical application. But just at the most critical moment another
interruption occurred; the secretary came in with the papers for the
class and counted out the necessary supply while the class looked on. It
was impossible now to catch up the current of interest again, but the
teacher tried. Once more she was interrupted, however, this time by a
note containing some announcement that had been overlooked in the
opening exercises!
All such interruptions as these indicate mismanagement and a serious
lack of foresight. The fault is not wholly with the teacher, but also
with the policy and organization of the school as a whole. The remedy
is for both officers and teachers to use the same business sense and
ability in running the church school that they would apply to any other
concern. The collection can be taken at the beginning of the lesson
period. The papers and lesson material can be in the classroom or in the
teacher's hands before the class assembles, and not require distribution
during the lesson period. In short, all matters of routine can be so
carefully foreseen and provided for that the class will be wholly free
from all unnecessary distractions from such sources.
Mischief and disorder.--An especially difficult kind of distraction to
control is the tendency to restlessness, mischief, and misbehavior which
prevails in certain classes or on the part of an occasional pupil.
Pupils sometimes feel that the teacher in the church school does not
possess the same authority as that exercised by the public-school
teacher, and so take advantage of this fact. The first safeguard against
disorder in the class is, of course, to secure the interest and loyalty
of the members. The ideal is for the children to be attentive,
respectful, and well behaved, not because they are required to, but
because their sense of duty and pride and their interest in the work
leads them to this kind of conduct. It is not possible, however,
continuously to reach this ideal with all children. There will be
occasional cases of tendency to disorder, and the spirit of mischief
will sometimes take possession of a class whose conduct is otherwise
good.
Whenever it becomes necessary, the teacher should not hesitate to take a
positive stand for order and quiet in the class. All inattention is
contagious. A small center of disturbance can easily spread until it
results in a whole storm of disorder. Mischief grows through the power
of suggestion, and a small beginning may soon involve a whole class.
There is no place for a spirit of irreverence and boisterousness in the
church school, and the teacher must have for one of his first principles
the maintenance of good conduct in his classroom. No one can tell any
teacher just how this is to be achieved in individual cases, but it must
be done. And the teacher who cannot win control over his class would
better surrender it to another who has more of the quality of leadership
or mastery in his make-up, for no worthy, lasting religious impressions
can be given to noisy, boisterous, and inattentive children.
Distractions by the teacher.--Strange as it may seem, the teacher may
himself be a distraction in the classroom. Any striking mannerism, any
peculiarity of manner or carriage, extreme types of dress, or any
personal quality that attracts attention to itself is a distraction to
the class. One teacher may have a very loud or ill-modulated voice;
another may speak too low to be heard without too much effort; another
may fail to articulate clearly. Whatever attracts attention to the
speech itself draws attention away from the thought back of the speech
and hinders the listener from giving his full powers to the lesson.
A distracting habit on the part of some teachers is to walk back and
forth before the class, or to assume awkward postures in standing or
sitting before the class, or nervously to finger a book or some object
held in the hands. All these may seem like small things, but success or
failure often depends upon a conjunction of many small things, each of
which in itself may seem unimportant. It is often "the little foxes that
spoil the vines."
Avoiding physical distractions.--In the church school, as in the
public school, the physical conditions surrounding the recitation should
be made as favorable as possible. Not infrequently the children are
placed for their lesson hour in seats that were intended for adults, and
which are extremely uncomfortable for smaller persons. The children's
feet do not touch the floor, and their backs can not secure a support;
weariness, wriggling and unrest are sure to follow. Sometimes the
ventilation of the classroom is bad, and the foul air breathed on one
Sunday is carefully shut in for use the next. Basement rooms are not
seldom damp, or they have a bad odor, or the lighting is unsatisfactory,
or the walls are streaked, dim and uninviting. If such things seem
relatively unimportant, we must remember that the child's spiritual life
is closely tied up with the whole range of his experiences, and that
such things as lack of oxygen in the classroom, tired legs whose feet
can not touch the floor, eyes offended by unloveliness, or nostrils
assailed by unpleasant odors may get in the way of the soul's
development. Our churches should not rest satisfied until children in
the church schools work under as hygienic and as pleasant conditions as
obtain in the best of our public schools.
DANGER POINTS IN INSTRUCTION
It is a well-known law in pedagogy that negatives are not often
inspiring, and that to hold before one his mistakes is not always the
best way of helping him avoid them. Along with the positive principles
which show what we should do, however, it is well occasionally to note a
few of the danger points most commonly met in the classroom.
Lack of definiteness.--This may take the form of lack of definiteness
of aim or purpose. We may merely "hear" the recitation, or ask the
stock questions furnished in the lesson helps, or allow the discussion
to wander where it will, or permit aimless arguing or disputing on
questions that cannot be decided and that in any case possess no real
significance.
Indefiniteness may take the direction of failure to carry the thoughts
of the lesson through to their final meaning and application, so that
there is no vital connection made between the lesson truths and the
lives of those we teach. Or we may be indefinite in our interpretation
of the moral and religious values inherent in the lesson, and so fail to
make a sharp and definite impression of understanding and conviction on
our pupils. Our teaching must be clear-cut and positive without being
narrowly dogmatic or opinionated. The truth we present must have an
edge, so that it may cleave its way into the heart and mind of the
learner.
Dead levels.--We need to avoid _dead levels_ in our teaching. This
danger arises from lack of mental perspective. It comes from presenting
all the points of a lesson on the same _plane of emphasis_, with a
failure to distinguish between the important and the unimportant. Minor
details and incidental aspects of the topic often receive the same
degree of stress that is given to more important points. This results in
a state of monotonous plodding through so much material without
responding to its varying shades of meaning and value. Not only does
this type of teaching fail to lodge in the mind of the pupil the larger
and more important truths which ought to become a permanent part of his
mental equipment, but it also fails to train pupils how themselves to
pick out and appropriate the significant parts of the lesson material.
It does not develop the sense of value for lesson truths which should
be trained through the work of the lesson hour. Each lesson should seek
to impress and apply a few important truths, and everything else should
be made to work to this end. The points we would have our pupils
remember, think about and act upon we must be able to make stand out
above all other aspects of the lesson; they must not, for want of
emphasis, be lost in a mass of irrelevant or monotonous material of
little value.
Lack of movement in recitation.--Some recitations suffer from
_slowness of movement_ of the thought and plan of the lesson. We
sometimes say of a book or a play or a sermon that it was "slow." This
is equivalent to saying that the book or play or sermon lacks movement;
it dallies by the way, and has unnecessary breaks in its continuity, or
is slow in its action. The same principle applies in the recitation.
Pauses that are occupied with thought or meditation are not, of course,
wasted; they may even be the very best part of the lesson period. But
the rather empty lapses which occur for no reason except that the
teacher lacks readiness and preparation, and does not quite know at
every moment just what he is to do next, or what topic should at this
moment come in--it is such awkward and meaningless breaks as these that
spoil the continuity of thought and interest and result in boredom. We
must remember that every pause or interval of mere empty waiting without
expectancy, or without some worthy thought occupying the mind, is a
waste of energy, time, and opportunity, and also a training in
inattention.
Low standards.--The acceptance of _low standards_ of preparation and
response in the recitation is fatal to high-grade work and results. If
it comes to be expected and taken as a matter of course both by teacher
and pupils that children shall come to the class from week to week with
no previous study on the lesson, then this is precisely what they will
do. The standards of the class should make it impossible that continual
failure to prepare or recite shall be accepted as the natural and
expected thing, or treated with a spirit of levity. The lesson hour is
the very heart and center of the school work, and failure here means a
breakdown of the whole system. The standards of teacher and class should
be such that probable failure to do one's part in the recitation shall
be looked forward to by the child with some apprehension and looked back
upon with some regret if not humiliation. In order to maintain high
standards of preparation the cooperation of the home must be secured, at
least for the younger children, and parents must help the child wisely
and sympathetically in the study of the lesson.
1. To what extent are you able to hold the attention of your pupils
in the recitation? Is their attention ready, or do you have to work
hard to get it? Are there any particular ones who are less
attentive than the rest? If so, can you discover the reason? The
remedy?
2. To what extent do you find it necessary to appeal to involuntary
attention? If you have to make such an appeal do you seek at once
to make interest take hold to retain the attention?
3. What measures are you using to train your pupils in the giving
of voluntary attention when this type is required? When _is_
voluntary attention required?
4. How completely are your pupils usually interested in the
lessons? As the interest varies from time to time, are you studying
the matter to discover the secret of interest on their part. In so
far as interest fails, which of the factors discussed in the
section on interest in this chapter are related to the failure? Are
there still other causes not mentioned in this chapter?
5. What distractions are most common in your class? Can you discover
the cause? The remedy? Do you have any unruly pupils? If so, have
you done your best to win to attention and interest? Have you the
force and decision necessary to bring the class well under control?
6. What do you consider your chief danger points in teaching? Would
it be worth while for you to have some sympathetic teacher friend
visit your class while you teach, and then later talk over with you
the points in which you could improve?
FOR FURTHER READING
Bagley, Class Room Management.
Betts, The Recitation.
Maxwell, The Observation of Teaching.
Strayer and Norsworthy, How to Teach.
Weigle, The Pupil and the Teacher.