THE STUDY OF THE LESSON.
In our emphasis of certain phases of the new education, there is a
tendency to swing away from the use of the text-book, so that the
children depend largely upon the teacher’s oral instruction and
explanation. It often happens that the teacher, in her zeal, forgets that
the growth of the children depends upon their own doing, and imagines
that her thought and experience will suffice, without effort on the part
of her pupils. This state of affairs exists in the reading class oftener
than in any other. Time is often wasted in smoothing out difficulties
which never existed as such to the children, and obstacles are explained
away before they are recognized by the child as obstacles. Meanwhile the
teacher is doing the work and the pupil is losing the opportunity to gain
power by wrestling with his little problems himself.
It is essential that even the little children should be taught how to
study to the limit of their ability. The study of the reading lesson may
be made a most profitable exercise. Too much of the occupation termed
study by both pupil and teacher is an indifferent conning of the book, a
careless and hurried repetition of the text, or a thoughtless copying;
all of which weakens the power of attention, and tends to make the
lesson dull and uninteresting. Such loss should be prevented by careful
direction of the young student. The study should be at first conducted
under the personal guidance of the teacher, for, until the children grow
into the power of learning to work by themselves, they need to be taught
how to study as well as how to read. The time spent in the preparation
of the lesson should be thoughtfully employed, the exercise resulting in
helpful habits as well as in increased power.
Before we can teach our pupils how to study their reading lessons, we
must have a realizing sense of their difficulties in reading. This means
that we must know our children as well as we would have them know their
lesson. A successful teacher of little children once told the writer
that she allowed her pupils a period for free conversation every day.
While they availed themselves of this privilege, she listened, in order
to discover in what they were interested and about what subjects they
talked freely to one another. Having learned this, she began her language
lessons where the children’s interest was centred, led them gradually to
new interests, and helped them to overcome their limitations.
Some such study of individual children, or at least of the varying
classes of children, is indispensable to the teacher who would endeavor
to train her pupils to overcome the obstacles in their way. It is vain
for her to assume that all classes are alike, and that a mastery of the
words at the head of the lesson will properly equip them all for the feat
of rendering the thought which the lesson contains. Such easy assumption
ends in failure. The children differ in attainment and in experience. We
cannot take for granted either knowledge or ignorance on their part. We
must study their experience in order to know their limitations and their
needs.
A class of children of foreign parentage was engaged in reading a fairy
tale which described the adventures of a wee robin on his way to sing
a Yule song to the king. Evidently the children were not accustomed to
imaginative tales, and, moreover, they had the dimmest possible notions
of the wee robin, the gray, greedy hawk, the Yule song, and the king.
Their reading was dull, monotonous, and indifferent, accomplished by dint
of constant suggestion and explanation on the part of the teacher, and
wearisome though patient repetition on the part of the children.
The exercise, though termed reading, was in reality simply a preparation
for reading. It would have been greatly improved by a conscious
recognition of its import by both teacher and pupils. They were studying
the lesson together and aloud. Had it been thoughtfully studied in this
way before reading was attempted, both exercises would have been more
helpful to the pupils.
This same class was afterwards questioned in regard to home reading. Not
one pupil was accustomed to read or to hear reading at home. In few homes
were there any books, while story-telling was a practice of which they
had never dreamed. Obviously these children had in their home experience
a meagre preparation for reading, and the teacher’s duty was consequently
a double one. In such an instance the reading lesson would be entirely
robbed of its value if the proper study of the lesson were omitted.
For preliminary study, therefore, it is well for the teacher to use the
period assigned to reading in talking with the class about the lesson,
her object being not to tell what she knows, but to discover what the
children know or do not know. To this end she will bend a listening ear
to all mistakes, not to waive them away, nor to smile at the awkward
interpretation, but to see from what limitation they arise. Knowing
their source, she can help to correct them by removing the cause. Such
attention to the errors or the questions of the children discloses two
classes of difficulties: those which the children can overcome by thought
or by observation, and others in which the teacher must of necessity
furnish the necessary explanation. For example, a class in a primary
school read, and with fair expression, the story of “a kid upon the
roof of a house that railed at a wolf passing by.” The teacher, knowing
her class, assumed their ignorance of the meaning of “railed”—was not
surprised at the suggestion that “the kid fired a rail at the wolf”—and
by her explanation made clear the meaning of the word. She was surprised,
however, in the course of the study conversation, to discover that to
the majority of the class “kid” stood for little boy. Nothing in the
wording of the fable or in the children’s experience served to correct
the impression. Again the duty devolved upon the teacher.
Obviously, in such cases the children must depend upon the teacher. To
withhold aid at the right time is to make the study fruitless and the
children indifferent or discouraged. On the other hand, by means of just
such united exercises in study the children will learn to measure their
own understanding and to point out their own limitations.
Fancy the class, described above, as having been taught to study, and
therefore having wrestled alone with the fable. Upon coming to the
recitation, some are conscious of their ignorance and say at once, “I do
not know what ‘railed’ means.” They have studied to some purpose, have
made themselves ready for their teacher’s explanation—and for helping
themselves by means of the dictionary. The other difficulty presented by
the slang use of “kid” would of course fail to present itself to their
consciousness.
One result, then, of the preliminary study, with or without the teacher,
should be to help the children to discover the “don’t know” line; the
second should be to enable them to help themselves, if possible. Through
careful and conscious study, they may be helped to realize the “sense” of
what they read, and to judge for themselves when they fail to get the
meaning of the sentence.
From the beginning, the children should be shown that every sentence is
an embodiment of a thought, every word having its place in the expression
of that thought.
“A saucy robin is eating the ripe cherries in the tree under my window,”
the children read. The teacher studies with them for a moment. What does
the sentence tell them? Who is eating the ripe cherries? What kind of
robin? What is he doing? What is he eating? What cherries is he eating?
Where is the tree? What word tells us what kind of a robin is eating?
What words tell where the cherries are? What word tells who is eating the
cherries? Even in primary schools such questioning is valuable, leading
the children to realize that the words appear in the sentence, not by
chance, but in order to express something; that every word has its work,
that not one can be omitted, that a change in a single word changes the
thought. Such exercises, thoughtfully conducted, will lead the children
to look for the thought in the sentence, and will make its mastery a test
of their success. If the sentence does not yield them a thought which
they understand, let them question every word until they get its meaning.
Thus they learn to recognize the line where their knowledge ends and
their ignorance begins.
It is often the case, however, that the difficulty to be overcome is the
pupils’ inability to pronounce words whose meaning may be familiar. If
this is the case, they will need to bring all their knowledge of words
to bear upon this new problem. “Sidewalk” is a long word, a new word—no
one knows it. The teacher helps, not by pronouncing it and easing the
children of their load. No. She says: “That word seems long, but it is
very easy. You know the first syllable.” Yes, everybody knows “side.”
“Now, who knows the second? Who can put them together?” The children
rejoice in the sense of overcoming. They have gained some power to help
themselves. Our teaching should compel as well as invite such thoughtful
comparison of the old with the new, should lead the children to use what
they have learned, in the mastery of the not learned.
The simplest lessons in preparatory study are thus justified: they lead
to a conscious judgment of one’s attainment. Study means nothing if it
does not lead to this judgment. The power once gained, the pupil is his
own best teacher, his own strongest helper. Prize, then, all exercises
which lead to this judgment. Instead of saying to the untrained pupil,
“Read your lesson ten times,” when his present attainment or lack of
attainment renders such repetition worse than useless, you will say,
“Read the lesson and copy all the words whose meaning you do not know.”
“Read and copy the words that you cannot pronounce.” “Read and copy the
sentence that you do not understand.” “Read so carefully that you are
sure you can read well to the class.”
The skilful teacher will think of a hundred devices to advance such
study. The test of each device will be, “Does it help to arouse thought?
Does it end in thoughtful study?”
Such study is necessary before reading whenever we may assume that the
lesson presents any difficulty to the child, unless we prefer that the
first oral rendering of the lesson shall be merely a studying aloud.
As a stimulus to, or a test of, study, it may be well to omit the oral
reading occasionally, substituting for it an exercise in silent reading,
whose thoroughness is tested by questions. After the usual study of the
lesson the books are closed and the teacher calls upon the pupils to tell
her what they have read. Older pupils may respond by giving the substance
of the lesson. Younger children may be tested by more frequent and
detailed questions after the reading of short paragraphs.
The above exercise is even more helpful if the children share in the
questioning. They read with keener interest if their knowledge is thus
put to the test.
Such exercises tend to emphasize to the pupils the truth that their
reading is not for itself, but to make them masters of the thoughts
expressed in their lessons. It becomes more real, more purposeful, in
proportion as this is realized.
In this connection, it may be said that anything which adds purpose to
the reading lesson gives motive to study. When pupils are asked to read
to the class some selection unknown to the other pupils, they study and
read with a zest quite unlike that manifested in the repetition of a
worn-out selection which the others already know. For some good end,
recognized by himself as worthy, the child reads now. The introduction of
opportunities for individual reading, as early as may be, thus proves an
incentive to study and a means of rapid advancement. Cuttings from papers
and magazines and collections of children’s books prove most helpful at
this stage, affording a prize for attainment, as well as an evident test
of progress.
The foregoing has been written with special reference to beginners in
reading. As pupils advance in their grades, the study of the reading
becomes even more necessary and may be made the more profitable.
All that has been said of younger readers applies equally to older
pupils. The test of the ability to study is the power to judge rightly
where the limit of one’s knowledge appears.
As soon as the pupil can point out the obstacle which hinders his
understanding, he is ready to be taught. A single word, a question, a
suggestion from the teacher, removes his difficulty. He recognizes his
need and desires help,—therefore listens attentively and intelligently.
At this stage he is enabled, also, to help himself, since he is prepared
to use the dictionary and other reference books.
Older students should read with the help of the dictionary. They should,
of course, be taught how to use it, just as they are taught to interpret
any other book. Its use is discussed at length in another chapter.
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_And this our life …_
_Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,_
_Sermons in stones, and good in everything._
—_WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE._
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