JUDGING OF THE SOUNDNESS AND GENERAL WORTH OF STATEMENTS, AS A FOURTH
FACTOR IN STUDY
We have already seen that proper study places much responsibility upon
the student. Instead of allowing him to be an aimless collector of
facts, it requires him to discover specific purposes that the facts
may serve. With such purposes in mind he must supplement authors'
statements in numerous ways, and also pass judgment on their relative
values. This all requires much aggressiveness.
_The problem here._
A problem now confronts us that suggests even greater aggressiveness.
The statements that one hears or finds in print are often somewhat
exaggerated, or distorted, or grossly incorrect, or they may be
entirely true. Who is to pass judgment upon their quality? Has the
young student any proper basis for carrying that responsibility?
_Pressing nature of this problem.
1. In reading newspapers and magazines._
This problem is forced upon one when reading newspapers, particularly
during political campaigns. One paper lauds a candidate as a great
administrator, while another condemns him as a doctrinaire. One
advocates protective tariff and the gold standard, while another urges
revenue tariff only and free silver. Among the news columns one
article predicts war, while another discerns signs of peace. Russia is
at one time pictured as moving fast toward complete anarchy, while at
another time she is shown to be making important political advances.
The Japanese are praised for their high standards of life, and are
again condemned for their immorality. Magazine articles show
disagreements just as striking. Public men, political policies,
corporations, and religious beliefs are approved or condemned
according to the individual writer. What, then, is the proper attitude
for the reader? Is he to regard one authority as about as good as
another, or is he himself to distinguish among them and judge each
according to the evidence that is offered?
_2. In the use of books._
D'Aubigne's _History of the Reformation_ is an extremely interesting
work; but it treats the Reformation from the Protestant view-point,
and is on that account unacceptable to Catholics. The history of our
Civil War presents one series of facts when written by a northerner; a
very different series when written by a southerner; and a still
different one when written by an Englishman. Shall the student of
either of these periods adopt the views of the author that he happens
to be reading? Or shall he assume a view-point of his own? Or shall he
do neither?
Carlyle and Ruskin indulge in much exaggeration, relying on striking
statements for increased effect. Shakespeare possibly intended to
present an exaggerated type of the Jew in the character of Shylock.
Shall the student recognize exaggeration as such? Or shall he take all
statements literally? Or shall he avoid doing either, preserving an
inactive mind?
In his work on _Education_, Herbert Spencer states that "acquirement
of every kind has two values--value as knowledge and value as
discipline. Besides its use for guidance in conduct, the acquisition
of each order of facts has also its use as mental exercise." Many
students of education would assert that one very important value of
knowledge is here overlooked, _i. e._, its power to inspire and
energize, a value that literature possesses to a high degree. Assuming
that they are correct, dare the young student pass such a criticism?
Or would such a critical attitude on his part toward a high authority
be impertinent?
The first paragraph in Rousseau's _Emile_ runs as follows: "Coming
from the hand of the Author of all things, everything is good;
in the hands of man everything degenerates. Man obliges one soil to
nourish the productions of another, one tree to bear the fruits of
another; he mingles and confounds climates, elements, seasons; he
mutilates his dog, his horse, his slave. He overturns everything,
disfigures everything; he loves deformity, monsters; he desires that
nothing should be as Nature made it, not even man himself. To please
him man must be broken in like a horse; man must be adapted to man's
own fashion, like a tree in his garden."
At the bottom of the first page of the translation of _Emile_ by
Miss Worthington is a note by Jules Steeg, Depute, Paris, bearing on
the above first paragraph and running as follows: "It is useless to
enlarge upon the absurdity of this theory, and upon the flagrant
contradiction into which Rousseau allows himself to fall. If he is
right, man ought to be left without education, and the earth without
cultivation. This would not be even the savage state. But want of
space forbids us to pause at each like statement of our author, who at
once busies himself in nullifying it." Opposing statements like these
are certainly enough to place the student in a dilemma.
_Proper attitude of the student toward authorities._
Here are contradictions in political and religious beliefs and news
items; very different interpretations of historical events;
exaggerations bordering on misrepresentations; and evident omissions
and absurdities on the part of educational philosophers. The weather
bureau represents Old Reliability herself, in comparison with authors.
What attitude shall the adult student assume toward such contradictory
and faulty statements? Shall he regard himself as only a follower,
taking each presentation of thought at its face value, sitting humbly
at the feet of supposed specialists, and carefully preserving in
memory as many of their principal opinions and conclusions as
possible? Shall he assume the position of a mere receiver and
collector?
That is manifestly impossible, for that would mean an ego divided a
thousand times. It would prevent the final using of knowledge by the
learner, instead of directing its use wisely; for the many opposing
ideas and cross purposes would nullify one another. Besides that, wise
application requires far more than a good memory as a guide, since
memory takes no account of the adaptations always required by new
conditions.
Whether he likes it or not, the student cannot escape the
responsibility of determining for himself the fairness and general
reliability of the newspapers and magazines that he reads; he must
expect bias in historians, and must measure the extent of it as well
as he can by studying their biographies and by observing their care in
regard to data and logic; he must scrutinize very critically the ideas
of the world's greatest essayists and dramatists. If a philosopher,
like Rousseau, offers brilliant truths on one page, and equally
brilliant perversions of truth on the next page, the student must
ponder often and long in order to keep his bearings; and if footnotes
attempt to point out some of these absurdities, he must decide for
himself whether Rousseau or the commentator shows the superior wisdom.
"Above all," says Koopman, "he [the student] must make sure how far he
can trust the author." [Footnote: Koopman, _The Mastery of Books_, p.
47.]
"Read not to contradict and confute, nor to believe and take for
granted, nor to find talk and discourse, but to _weigh_ and
_consider_," says Bacon. [Footnote: Bacon's _Essays Of Studies_.]
Every book we read may be made a round in the ever-lengthening ladder
by which we climb to knowledge and to that temperance and serenity of
mind which, as it is the ripest fruit of wisdom, is also the sweetest.
But this can only be if we read such books as make us think, and read
them in such a way as helps them to do so, that is, _by endeavoring
to judge them_, and thus to make them an exercise rather than a
relaxation of the mind. Desultory reading except as conscious pastime,
hebetates the brain and slackens the bow string of Will. [Footnote:
Lowell, _Books and Libraries._]
The student, therefore, must set himself up as judge of whatever ideas
appear before him. They are up for trial on their soundness and worth;
he must uncover their merits and defects, and pass judgment on their
general value. If he is hasty and careless, he suffers the penalty of
bad judgment; and if he refrains from judging at all, he becomes one
who "does not know his own mind," a weakling.
Who reads
Incessantly, and to his reading brings not
A spirit and judgment equal or superior
Uncertain and unsettled still remains,
Deep versed in books and shallow in himself.
[Footnote: Milton, _Paradise Regained_, Book 4, line 322.]
_The necessity of this attitude in the acceptance as well as in the
rejection of ideas._
The need of such an attitude may be granted when the rejection of
ideas is necessary. But there are many works that have been tried for
ages and found undoubtedly excellent. There are many men, also, who
are acknowledged authorities in their specialties. In the case of such
books and men, where little if any negative criticism is to be
expected, cannot the student set out merely to enjoy the merits and
not bother about the defects? Can he not, therefore, abandon the
critical attitude and accept outright what is offered?
That depends on how much is involved in real acceptance. A wise young
woman who rejects a suitor does so for reasons of some sort; her
reasons should certainly not be less clear if she accepts him; on the
contrary, they are more likely to have been investigated with care.
The rejection of a lover is, then, no more positive thing, involves no
more intelligence and emotion, than his acceptance.
Again, a competent supervisor of instruction who accepts as good some
recitation that he has observed, does so on the basis of specific
points of merit that he has seen. Otherwise his acceptance is only
flattery and is unacceptable to an earnest teacher. So, in general,
the acceptance of any line of thought or action presupposes a
consciousness of certain merits. Intelligent acceptance is thoughtful
or critical.
There is a common idea that acceptance is far more easy and far less
aggressive than negative criticism. The contrary, however, is probably
true. The former idea is due to the fact that much acceptance, as of
political and religious doctrine, for example, is only nominal or
verbal; it is not intelligent or critical enough to be genuine. Any
one can find fault, it is often declared; but the recognition of merit
requires special insight. Rejection, therefore, is no more aggressive
or positive than acceptance; and if one of these calls for a more
critical attitude and more mental energy than the other, it is
probably the latter.
_Relation of the critical attitude to sympathy and respect._
What is the relation of this critical attitude to sympathy for an
author? One of the essential conditions in the proper study of a book
is that it be approached with an open, sympathetic mind. One must look
at the world through the author's eyes in order to understand and
appreciate what he says, and that is possible only when one feels high
respect for him and is in close sympathy with him. To this end, it may
be well at times for the student to annihilate his own personality, as
Ruskin advises, so as to lose himself in another's thought.
If the critical attitude were incompatible with such respect and
sympathy, its value might well be questioned. But that is not the
case. A sensible parent who is in closest sympathy with a child finds
no great difficulty in seeing its defects and even in administering
punishment for them. There are parents and teachers who cannot thus
combine real sympathy with the critical attitude; but they are too
weak and foolish to rear children. Helpful friendships among adults,
also, are not based upon blind admiration; they presuppose ability to
discern faults and even courage now and then to mention them.
One cannot be a true scholar without making a similar combination. The
unquestioning frame of mind that allows a sympathetic approach to an
author marks one stage in study; but this must be followed by the
critical attitude before the study is complete. That the two attitudes
are not incompatible is well stated by Porter in the following words:
"We should read with an independent judgment and a critical spirit. It
does not follow, because we should treat an author with confidence and
respect, that we are to accept all his opinions and may not revise his
conclusions and arguments by our own. Indeed, we shall best evince our
respect for his thoughts by subjecting them to our own revision."
[Footnote: Noah Porter, _Books and Reading_, p. 52.]
_How daily life requires similar independence of judgment._
While the demand thus made upon the scholar seems great, there is
nothing surprising about it; for the scholar's relation to an author
is substantially the same as that of any adult to other persons with
whom he has dealings. If you go to a store to purchase a pair of
rubbers, you cannot surrender yourself complacently to any clerk who
happens to wait upon you. He is very likely to be satisfied to sell
you rubbers that are too long or too short, too wide or too narrow, or
at least not of the shape of your shoes. Or he may want to sell you
storm rubbers when you prefer low ones. Unless, therefore, you carry a
standard in mind and reject whatever fails to meet it, you are very
likely to buy rubbers that won't be satisfactory. The same is true if
you go to a tailor for clothing; unless you know him to be unusually
reliable, it is not enough for him to tell you that a coat fits; you
must test the statement by your own observation.
Some years ago a house that I occupied in New York City became
infested with rats, and, wanting to reach the kitchen from the cellar,
they gnawed an inch hole through a lead drain pipe from the laundry
tubs, that lay in their way. The hole was behind a cupboard in the
kitchen, very close to the wall, and not easy to reach. If clean
clothing was to be had, the pipe had to be fixed; but when a plumber
was called in, he stated that a carpenter would be needed to remove
the cupboard, and again to replace it after the work was completed.
The pipe having the hole, he added, would need to be taken out, and,
as it was one arm of a larger pipe that had two other branches, the
pipe with the three arms would have to be removed and another put in
its place. The entire work was estimated to cost about fifteen
dollars.
As that seemed a large amount to invest in a rat hole, another plumber
was consulted; but he made substantially the same report. Still not
being satisfied, I went to a hardware store and asked, "Have you a man
who can solder a thin metal plate over a small hole in a lead pipe?
The hole is about an inch in diameter and somewhat difficult to reach;
but the work can be done by any one who knows his business." The
merchant said that he had such a man. The man was sent over; he did
the work in a few minutes, and the bill was seventy-five cents.
Plumbers are probably as honest and capable in their lines as most
classes of workmen; but many persons have learned to their sorrow not
to place themselves as clay in their hands.
A man who builds a house should keep more than half an eye on his
architect, otherwise the house is likely to cause numerous lifelong
regrets. Even one's physician is not to be implicitly obeyed on all
occasions. If a patient knows that quinine acts as a poison upon him,
as it does upon some persons, he must refuse to take it. Also, if a
physician gives too much medicine, as physicians have been known to
do, one must discover the fact for himself, or his alimentary canal
may suffer. Such men are merely types of the many persons who surround
us and help us to live; we must be judges of the conduct of each of
them toward us, if we wish to be healthy and happy.
Must we, then, pass upon everything; and is no person to be fully
trusted? How can any one find time for the exercise of so much wisdom?
And what are specialists for?
Certainly many, many things must be taken for granted. When you board
a train, you cannot make sure that the trainmen are all qualified for
their positions and that all parts of the train and of the track are
in proper condition. If, however, you choose a poorly managed road, in
place of a well-managed one, you are more likely to be killed on the
journey. In other words, while many things must be assumed, the
responsibility of determining what they shall be rests with you, and
you suffer the penalty of any bad selection. Your own judgment is
still your guide.
Many persons must likewise be trusted. But who shall they be, and to
what extent? The objects of choice have now been merely shifted from
things to human beings, and independent judgment must still be
exercised the same as before. The difficulty is fully as great, too.
Says Holmes, "We have all to assume a standard of judgment in our own
minds, either of things or persons. A man who is willing to take
another's opinion has to exercise his judgment in the choice of whom
to follow, which is often as nice a matter as to judge of things for
one's self." [Footnote: Holmes, _Autocrat of the Breakfast Table._]
Reasons for the use of independent judgment may be found in lack of
knowledge on the part of others, or of skill, or of judgment, or of
energy, or of honesty. But there is a more fundamental reason than
either incompetence or dishonesty, and it is found in the peculiar
circumstances of each person. The point of view of an architect is not
the same as that of the owner of a house. Every one hundred dollars
added to the cost of a building rejoices the architect's heart because
it increases his income. On the other hand, every hundred dollars thus
added tends to produce depression in the owner's mind. Similarly, the
point of view of any specialist or friend is different from yours; it
can never be fully your own. Just because no one can look at your
affairs from your own point of view, no one is fully qualified to
judge them for you, and you must rely upon yourself.
The people with whom we trade, therefore, the specialists and friends
to whom we go, like the authors that the student consults, are all
related to us merely as advisers. No one of them is fitted to tell us
exactly what to do, and the proper attitude toward them all is that of
friendly suspicion.
_Greatness of each person's responsibility for judging._
This conception of each person's relation to ideas and to the world at
large places his judgment on a high plane. Whether he will or not,
every man is intellectually a sovereign whose own judgment in the
decision of all his affairs is his court of last resort. This is a
grave responsibility, indeed; and it is no wonder that many shrink
from it. Yet what better state can be conceived? This responsibility
proves the dignity of manhood; it is the price of being a man. Fairly
good judgment, exercised independently of everybody, is one essential
condition of self-direction and of leadership of others. The
importance of good judgment is often emphasized; and the reason for it
is here evident, since it must guide us at every turn. The reason for
education of judgment is also evident. Every person is bound to make
many mistakes; but he will make far fewer when his ability to judge
has been properly trained. The utter inadequacy of instruction that
aims mainly at acquisition of facts is likewise evident; for the
exercise of judgment involves the use or adaptation of knowledge to
particular conditions, and the mere possession of facts bears little
relation to this ability.
_The basis that every student has for judging worth._
It may seem presumptuous for a young student of education to pass
judgment upon the greatest writers on education that the world has
produced, such as Spencer and Rousseau. Certainly the opinions of such
great men are far more valuable and reliable, on the whole, than those
of an immature student. The architect's knowledge of building,
likewise, is superior to that or a novice in that line. Granted,
therefore, that no one person is in a position to judge for another,
what right, what basis has this other, particularly the inexperienced
person, to judge any and every sort of affairs for himself? He has
basis enough. Speaking of the value of expert knowledge, Aristotle
says: "Moreover, there are some artists whose works are judged of
solely, or in the best manner, not by themselves but by those who do
not possess the art; for example, the knowledge of the house is not
limited to the builder; the user, or, in other words, the master of
the house will even be a better judge than the builder, just as the
pilot will judge better of a rudder than the carpenter, and the guest
will judge better of a feast than the cook." [Footnote: Aristotle,
_Politics_ (Jowett), p. 88.] The reason that the non-expert can thus
sometimes even surpass the expert himself in judging of the latter's
work is found in the fact that the non-expert as well as the
specialist has had much valuable experience bearing on the
specialist's line.
A very important truth is here suggested concerning the student.
Nothing that one is fitted to study is wholly new or strange to him.
Any person must have had experiences that parallel an author's thought
in order to understand that author. For, according to the principle of
apperception, intimately related past experience is the sole basis for
the comprehension of new facts.
Values are no newer or stranger to the student than other phases of
experience. The student's related past, therefore, furnishes as good a
basis for judging soundness or worth as it does for getting at
meanings. When, for instance, he reads Spencer's statement that
"acquisition of every kind has two values,--value as knowledge and
value as discipline"--he can verify each use out of his own life. He
can determine for himself that the assertion holds. On the other hand,
he can quite likely recall how he has sometimes been aroused and
stirred to new effort by things that he has read; and he may, in
consequence, question whether Spencer has not here overlooked one
great value of knowledge. Again, when the student is told by Rousseau
that "in the hands of man everything degenerates," he can, no doubt,
justify the assertion to some extent by recalling observed instances
of such degeneration. But, in addition, when he recalls what he has
observed and read about the wonderful advance made by man toward a
higher civilization, and realizes that Rousseau is denying that there
has been an advance, he is in a position to consider whether Rousseau
is mainly in the right or mainly in the wrong.
It is true that the student may be wrong in his conclusions; also
that, even though he be often right, he may become a confirmed fault-
finder. But that is not discouraging, for he is surrounded with
dangers. The essential fact remains that, just as his past related
experience furnishes a fair basis for understanding the meaning of
what he hears and reads, so, also, it furnishes a fair basis for
estimating its value.
ABILITY OF CHILDREN TO JUDGE VALUES
_A conception of child nature that denies such ability._
Many persons who agree to the necessity of independent judgment on the
part of adults may demur at the idea of placing similar responsibility
upon children. Are not children normally uncritical and imitative or
passive? they say. And if we teach them to judge and criticise freely,
are they not very likely to develop priggishness that will result in
immodesty and disrespect for others? "Memory," says John Henry Newman,
"is one of the first developed of the mental faculties; a boy's
business, when he goes to school, is to _learn_, that is, to store up
things in his memory. For some years his intellect is little more than
an instrument for taking in facts, or a receptacle for storing them;
he welcomes them as fast as they come to him; he lives on what is
without; he has his eyes ever about him; he has a lively
susceptibility of impressions; he imbibes information of every kind;
and little does he make his own in the true sense of the word, living
rather upon his neighbors all around him. He has opinions, religious,
political, literary, and, for a boy, is very positive in them and sure
about them; but he gets them from his schoolfellows, or his masters,
or his parents, as the case may be. Such as he is in his other
relations, such also is he in his school exercises; his mind is
observant, sharp, ready, retentive; he is almost _passive_ in the
acquisition of knowledge. I say this is no disparagement of the idea
of a clever boy. Geography, chronology, history, language, natural
history, he heaps up the matter of these studies as treasures for a
future day. It is the seven years of plenty with him; he gathers in by
handfuls, like the Egyptians, without counting; and though, as time
goes on, there is exercise for his argumentative powers in the
elements of mathematics, and for his taste in the poets and orators,
still while at school, or at least till quite the last years of his
time, he _acquires and little more;_ and when he is leaving for
the university he is mainly the creature of foreign influences and
circumstances, and made up of accidents, homogeneous or not as the
case may be." [Footnote: John Henry Newman, _Scope and Nature of
University Education,_ Discourse V.]
This view of childhood is somewhat common; and according to it
children are almost exclusively _receptive,_ any active exercise
of judgment scarcely beginning before college entrance.
_Extent of such ability.
1. as evidenced by individual examples of children's judgments._
Let us see to what extent this view holds when examined in the light
of children's actual conduct. A first-grade pupil who had attended the
kindergarten the previous year remarked to his former kindergarten
teacher, "I wish I was back in the kindergarten." "Why?" said the
kindergartner. "Because," said he, "we did _hard_ things in the
kindergarten last year." Then he added confidentially, "You know our
teacher was in the fourth grade last year. She used to come in to see
us when we were playing, and she thinks we can't do anything else.
Why, the things she gives us to do are _dead easy._" His teacher
herself afterward admitted that his criticism was just.
A small boy, being asked if he went to Sunday school, replied "Yes."
"Have you a good teacher?" was the next question; to which came the
response, "Yes, pretty good; good for a Sunday school. She would not
be much good for day school." Wasn't he probably right?
A five-year-old boy was taken to Sunday school for the first time by
his nurse. There the chief topic of instruction happened to be eternal
punishment. On the way home he was not altogether good, and the nurse,
in the spirit of the day's lesson, assured him that he would go to the
bad place when he died, and would burn there always. When he entered
the house he hurried, sobbing, to his mother and declared vehemently:
"Nurse says I'll go to the bad place when I die, and that I'll burn
there always. I _won't_ burn always; I know I won't! I may burn a
little bit. But I'm bad only part of the time; I am good part of the
time; and I _know_ I won't burn always." His reasoning on theology was
as sound as that of many a preacher.
I was standing near a second-year class in reading one day when I
overheard a boy say "Nonsense!" to himself, after reading a section. I
agreed with him too fully to offer any reproof.
An eight-year-old girl said to her mother, "May I iron my apron? I
ironed a pillowcase." "Did Sarah [the maid] say that you ironed it
well?" asked the mother. "No, she didn't say anything," was the
response. "But I know that I ironed it well." Is that an entirely
passive attitude?
Rebecca had spent six years in the public schools of two large cities
when she entered the seventh grade of the State Normal School. She had
been called a "quiet child," "nervous" and "timid," by different
teachers. After a very few days in the new school, however, she
volunteered this expression of her thoughts: "I didn't think the
Normal School would be anything like that. It's very different from
the public schools. There only the teacher has opinions and she does
all the talking; but in the Normal School the children can have
opinions, and they can express them, and I like it."
Any one who has had close contact with children knows that they have a
remarkably keen sense of the justice or injustice of punishments
inflicted upon them. As a rule, I would rather trust their judgment of
their teachers than their parents' judgment, although it is true that
parents form such judgment largely from hearing remarks from their
children. Children are reasonably reliable, also, in judging one
another's conduct, which they are prone to do.
Such facts as these indicate that it is quite natural for children--even
very young ones--to pass judgment of some kind on things about them,
and that their judgments are fairly sound. They are hardly to be
called merely passive receivers of ideas, mildly agreeing with the
people about them.
_2. As evidenced by the requirements of the school._
The school plainly assumes the presence of this ability by the
requirements that it makes of children. One of the common questions in
the combination of forms and colors, even in the kindergarten, is,
"How do you like that?" In instruction in fine art throughout the
grades their judgment as to what is most beautiful is continually
appealed to.
The judging of one another's compositions and other school products is
a common task for pupils. In connection with fairy tales six-year-olds
are frequently asked what they think of the story. Many say, "It is
beautiful"; but now and then a bold spirit declares, "I don't like
it."
Children are expected to judge the quality of literature,
distinguishing with ease between what is literal and what is
imaginative, or figurative, or humorous. When they read that the rope
with which the powerful Fenris-Wolf was bound was "made out of such
things as the sound of a cat's footsteps, the roots of the mountains,
the breath of a fish and the sinews of a bear, and nothing could break
it," [Footnote: Hamilton Mabie's _Norse Myths,_ p. 166.] they are
not deceived; they only smile. Now and then they make mistakes; but in
general such stories as _Through the Looking-Glass_ and the "Uncle
Remus" stories do not overtax their power to interpret conditions.
What literature or history is there for children that omits the
passing of moral judgments? Cinderella is approved of for her
goodness, William Tell for his independence, Columbus for his
boldness; Cinderella's sisters are condemned for their selfishness,
and Gessler for his meanness. Without such exercise of judgment these
two studies would miss one of their main benefits. The data that must
be collected in nature study and history for the proof of statements
give much practice in the weighing of evidence; and the self-
government that is now so common, in various degrees, in good schools
is supposed to be based upon a reasonable ability to weigh out
justice. Thus the method both of instruction and of government in our
better schools presupposes the ability on the part of pupils to judge
worth; and the better teachers have considered it so important that
they have constantly striven to develop it through instruction, just
as sensible parents have placed upon their children some of the
responsibility of buying their own clothing, doing the marketing, and
planning work at home, in order to cultivate the power to make wise
choice. If the ability to judge were really wanting in children, our
supposedly best methods of teaching and governing them would need to
be abandoned.
_3. As evidenced by requirements of child life._
The best proof that children possess this ability is that they can
scarcely get on without it. Several years ago, when I reached
Indianapolis on a journey, I gave my bag to a boy ten or eleven years
of age to carry to my hotel. While we were walking along together
another boy stopped him and drew him to one side. I observed that they
were having a serious conversation, and when we soon proceeded further
I inquired what the trouble was. "That boy," said he, "wants me to
divvy up with him." "What do you mean by that?" said I. "He wants me
to give him half of the money that I am to get from you for carrying
this bag," was the reply. "But," I responded indignantly, "he has not
helped you at all. Why, then, should he receive anything?" "He
shouldn't," came the answer; "but he belongs to a crowd of fellows,
and he told me that if I didn't divvy up with them they would pound
the life out of me." I pondered for some time, but I gave no advice.
What advice should have been given?
This is a striking ease; but it only illustrates very forcibly that
children are not merely sleeping, and eating what is given to them,
like cattle and sheep. Like adults they are surrounded with human
beings and are leading moral lives. At home, in school, on the street,
a hundred times a day they must "size up" people and situations and
decide what is best to do. If they are weak in such decisions, they
are regarded as weak in general; and if very weak, other persons must
assume responsibility for them and "tote" them through life. On the
other hand, if they are strong, they are classed as sensible persons,
and they "get on" well. Children distinguish themselves as balanced
and sensible, just as adults do, simply because they are wise in
measuring values.
Those persons who regard childhood as almost solely a period for
receiving knowledge, seem to think that active life really begins only
when one becomes of age. The fact is, it begins from eighteen to
twenty-one years sooner than that; and throughout all those earlier
years one has nearly as great a variety of trials, and trials usually
of greater intensity for the moment, than adults have. In the midst of
so much need, it would be strange, indeed, if one were endowed with no
power, called judgment, to cope with difficult situations, if one had
only the power to collect facts. That would leave us too helpless; it
certainly would not be adaptation to environment, or normal evolution.
In conclusion, therefore, those who deny a fair degree of sound
judgment to children deny what seems a marked natural tendency of
childhood; they pass a sweeping criticism upon what is now supposed to
be the best method of instructing and governing children; and,
finally, they deny to the child the one power that can make his
knowledge usable and insure his adaptation to his environment. Self-
reliance, which parents and teachers strive for so much, becomes then
impossible among children, for self-reliance is nothing more than
independent direction of self, made possible by power to judge
conditions. Certainly most persons are unwilling to take this position
in regard to the nature of childhood. They will agree that a twelve-
year-old boy, sitting for an hour in the presence of the President of
the United States and hearing him converse freely, without forming
judgments about him, and many fairly accurate ones too, would be an
abnormality.
_Danger of priggishness._
What about the threatened priggishness and related evils that may
result when the responsibility for passing judgment frequently is laid
upon children? Certainly a modest sense of one's own merit and proper
respect for others are highly desirable qualities. These qualities,
however, are not greatly endangered by the exercise of intellectual
independence, for it is little related to immodesty and impertinence.
A few years ago when many distinguished scientists celebrated in
Berlin the discovery of the Roentgen rays, Mr. Roentgen himself was
not present. Although he had possessed boldness enough to enlarge the
confines of knowledge, he lacked the courage to face the men who had
met to do him honor, and he telegraphed his regrets. St. Paul,
Erasmus, and Melanchthon were, intellectually, among the most
independent of men; but St. Paul possessed the humility of the true
Christian, and both Erasmus and Melanchthon were extremely modest.
Pestalozzi was once sent by his government as a member of a commission
to interview Napoleon. On his return from Paris he was asked whether
he saw Napoleon. "No," said he, "I did not see Napoleon, and Napoleon
did not see me." Recognizing the greatness of a real educator, he took
away the breath of his friends by ranking himself alongside Napoleon
as a truly great man. Yet he was one of the most modest, childlike men
that the world has ever known. These examples show that the keenest,
boldest of analysts and critics may yet be the humblest of men.
Self-reliance is the more common name for similar independence among
children; and it is no more nearly related to priggishness in their
case than in the case of adults. The five-year-old child will often
reject statements from his parents, even though he have the greatest
respect and love for them. It is only natural for him to do so when
assertions that he hears do not tally with his own experience; and he
will retain such boldness throughout life unless made subservient by
bad education.
There is some danger, however, that the cultivation of this
independence may make one a chronic fault-finder. It should not be
forgotten, therefore, that judging means approving as well as
condemning, and in case of children probably much more of the former
than of the latter. In addition, care should be taken that children
shall pass judgment only on matters lying fairly within their
experience, and shall recognize the need, too, of giving good reasons
for their conclusions. If these precautions be taken, the danger of
priggishness is reduced to the minimum. What danger remains can afford
to be risked; for independent judgment is the very basis of
scholarship among adults, and mental submissiveness in childhood is
not the best preparation for it.
PRACTICAL SUGGESTIONS FOR THE DEVELOPMENT OF INDEPENDENT JUDGMENT
AMONG CHILDREN
_1. Placing responsibility upon children at school._
Responsibilities that require exercise of judgment should be placed
upon children throughout the school, from the kindergarten on.
Scarcely a recitation need pass without opportunities of this kind.
For example, children can determine the correctness of answers to
questions put in class, can weigh the relative merits and the
efficiency of tasks performed, can propose suitable ways of
illustrating topics, such as lumbering, irrigation, mining, etc. The
wisdom of plans for preserving order in the school, for decorating the
building, and for improving the school in other respects can also be
submitted to their judgment. It is by the exercise of judgment in many
ways that young people will become judicious in numerous directions.
It is not difficult for any teacher to do some work of this kind, but
it is difficult to be consistent in it. Many teachers who are zealous
in cultivating independent judgment a part of the time, undermine this
influence at other times by arbitrary decisions or by a personality so
overpowering that it allows no free scope to the child's personality.
_2. Study of responsibilities borne at home._
Some study of the responsibilities that different children bear at
home may prove very profitable. While some carry much responsibility
there, others are given no option as to when they shall start to
school each day, or how they shall dress, or who shall buy their
clothes, or how they shall spend money. Thus they are allowed no
opportunity to decide things for themselves or to develop independent
judgment. Interviews with individual parents, and parents' meetings,
may prove very fruitful along this line.
_3. Consideration of the use to be made of advice._
In order to teach the nature of self-reliance and the scope of its
exercise, the use to be made of the advice of friends should be a
topic for occasional discussion. Many a young man and woman hesitates
to ask the advice of others for fear that they may be offended if the
advice given is not followed. They are justified, too, for many
persons are offended in this way. The propriety of rejecting advice
should be far more generally understood than it is. Then children, as
well as young men and women, would seek it much oftener, to their
lasting benefit.
_4. Examples of combinations of modesty with independence._
Since modesty should be cultivated along with independent judgment,
examples of distinguished men and women who have combined these two
qualities should now and then be considered.
_5. Observation of habits of pupils in use of judgment._
It is well to mark out for special attention such pupils as seem to be
untrue to their own experience in judging, or such as seem to lack the
energy to use it as a basis of judgment. For example, many eleven- and
twelve-year-old children in their study of _Excelsior_ feel that
the young man very rashly exposed himself and merited his death. Yet
some of these will suppress this judgment, and even praise him as a
noble youth, in order to please their teacher, or because they think
that that is what they _ought_ to say. They lack the boldness to
be honest with themselves.
Again, very many young people fail to think far enough to "weigh and
consider." They stop short with the concrete narrative, failing to
judge whether the story is reasonable, whether the characters are
representative, whether the moral is sound, etc. Thus they omit a
portion of the thinking that should be expected of them. Whether they
are wanting in mental energy or do not realize that this is one of the
important parts of study, they should be taken in hand. Right habits
of mind are even more important than knowledge.
_6. Reports of merits of printed matter, with discussion._
As one means of overcoming the defect just mentioned, different
children, or different committees of a class, might examine the same
newspapers, magazines, articles in reference books, etc., and then
report on their merits independently of one another, giving their
reasons. The discussions that would be likely to follow as the result
of disagreements would be of the highest value.