The first question for which we should seek an answer in connection with
the value of any school subject is this: How does it influence conduct?
Let me insist at the outset that we cannot be definite by saying simply
that we teach history in order to impart instruction. If there is one
thing upon which we are all agreed to-day it is this: that it is what
our pupils do that counts, not what they know. The knowledge that they
may possess has value only in so far as it may directly or indirectly be
turned over into action.
Let us not be mistaken upon this point. Knowledge is of the utmost
importance, but it is important only as a means to an end--and the end
is conduct. If my pupils act in no way more efficiently after they have
received my instruction than they would have acted had they never come
under my influence, then my work as a teacher is a failure. If their
conduct is less efficient, then my work is not only a failure,--it is a
catastrophe. The knowledge that I impart may be absolutely true; the
interest that I arouse may be intense; the affection that my pupils have
for me may be genuine; but all these are but means to an end, and if the
end is not attained, the means have been futile.
We have faith that the materials which we pour in at the hopper of sense
impression will come out sooner or later at the spout of reaction,
transformed by some mysterious process into efficient conduct. While the
machinery of the process, like the mills of the gods, certainly grinds
slowly, it is some consolation to believe that, at any rate, it _does_
grind; and we are perhaps fain to believe that the exceeding fineness of
the grist is responsible for our failure to detect at the spout all of
the elements that we have been so careful to pour in at the hopper. What
I should like to do is to examine this grinding process rather
carefully,--to gain, if possible, some definite notion of the kind of
grist we should like to produce, and then to see how the machinery may
be made to produce this grist, and in what proportions we must mix the
material that we pour into the hopper in order to gain the desired
result.
I have said that we must ask of every subject that we teach, How does
it influence conduct? Now when we ask this question concerning history a
variety of answers are at once proposed. One group of people will assert
that the facts of history have value because they can be directly
applied to the needs of contemporary life. History, they will tell us,
records the experiences of the race, and if we are to act intelligently
we must act upon the basis of this experience. History informs us of the
mistakes that former generations have made in adjusting themselves to
the world. If we know history, we can avoid these mistakes. This type of
reasoning may be said to ascribe a utilitarian value to the study of
history. It assumes that historical knowledge is directly and
immediately applicable to vital problems of the present day.
Now the difficulty with this value, as with many others that seem to
have the sanction of reason, is that it does not possess the sanction of
practical test. While knowledge doubtless affects in some way the
present policy of our own government, it would be very hard to prove
that the influence is in any way a direct influence. It is extremely
doubtful whether the knowledge that the voters have of the history of
their country will be recalled and applied at the ballot box next
November. I do not say that the study of history that has been going on
in the common schools for a generation will be entirely without effect
upon the coming election. I simply maintain that this influence will be
indirect,--but I believe that it will be none the less profound. One's
vote at the next election will be determined largely by immediate and
present conditions. But the way in which one interprets these conditions
cannot help being profoundly influenced by one's historical study or
lack of such study.
If it is clear, then, that the study of history cannot be justified upon
a purely utilitarian basis, we may pass to the consideration of other
values that have been proposed. The specialist in history, whose right
to legislate upon this matter I have just called into question, will
probably emphasize the disciplinary value of this study. Specialists are
commonly enthusiastic over the disciplinary value of their special
subjects. Their own minds have been so well developed by the pursuit of
their special branches that they are impelled to recommend the same
discipline for all minds. Again, we must not blame the specialist in
history, for you and I think the same about our own special type of
activity.
From the disciplinary point of view, the study of history is supposed to
give one the mastery of a special method of reasoning. Historical method
involves, above all else, the careful sifting of evidence, the minutest
scrutiny of sources in order to judge whether or not the records are
authentic, and the utmost care in coming to conclusions. Now it will be
generally agreed that these are desirable types of skill to possess
whether one is an historian or a lawyer or a teacher or a man of
business. And yet, as in all types of discipline, the difficulty lies,
not so much in acquiring the specific skill, as in transferring the
skill thus acquired to other fields of activity. Skill of any sort is
made up of a multitude of little specific habits, and it is a current
theory that habit functions effectively only in the specific situation
in which it has been built up, or in situations closely similar. But
whether this is true or not it is obvious that the teaching of
elementary history provides very few opportunities for this type of
training.
A third view of the way in which historical knowledge is thought to work
into action may be discussed under the head of the cultural value.
History, like literature, is commonly assumed to give to the individual
who studies it, a certain amount of that commodity which the world calls
culture. Precisely what culture consists in, no one, apparently, is
ready to tell us, but we all admit that it is real, if not tangible and
definable, nor can we deny that the individual who possesses culture
conducts himself, as a rule, differently from the individual who does
not possess it. In other words, culture is a practical thing, for the
only things that are practical are the things that modify or control
human action.
It is doubtless true that the study of history does add to this
intangible something that we call "culture," but the difficulty with
this value lies in the fact that, even after we have accepted it as
valid, we are in no way better off regarding our methods. Like many
other theories, its truth is not to be denied, but its truth gives us no
inkling of a solution of our problem. What we need is an educational
value of history, the recognition of which will enable us to formulate a
method for realizing the value.