CHAPTER I.

Produced by Bryan Ness, Constanze Hofmann and the Online

Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This

book was produced from scanned images of public domain

material from the Google Print project.)

Transcribers Note:

The spelling in this text has been preserved as in the original.

Obvious printer's errors have been corrected. You can find a list

of the corrections made at the end of this e-text.

Chapter IX is the additional chapter on "The First Day in School"

mentioned on the title page. There is no entry in the Table of Contents

for this chapter.

* * * * *

THE TEACHER:

Or Moral Influences Employed in the

Instruction and Government

of the Young.

New Stereotype Edition;

With an

Additional Chapter on "The First Day in School."

* * * * *

By JACOB ABBOTT,

Late Principal of the Mt. Vernon Female School, Boston, Mass.

* * * * *

BOSTON:

PUBLISHED BY WHIPPLE AND DAMRELL,

No. 9 CORNHILL.

1839.

* * * * *

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1839, by

JACOB ABBOTT,

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court

of the District of Massachusetts.

* * * * *

POWER PRESS OF WILLIAM S. DAMRELL.

TO THE

TRUSTEES AND PATRONS

OF THE

MT. VERNON FEMALE SCHOOL, BOSTON.

GENTLEMEN:

It is to efforts which you have made in the cause of education, with

special regard to its moral and religious aspects, that I have been

indebted for the opportunity to test by experiment, under the most

pleasant and favorable circumstances, the principles which form the

basis of this work. To you, therefore, it is respectfully inscribed, as

one of the indirect results of your own exertions to promote the best

interests of the Young.

I am very sincerely and respectfully yours,

THE AUTHOR.

PREFACE.

This book is intended to detail, in a familiar and practical manner, a

system of arrangements for the organization and management of a school,

based on the employment, so far as is practicable, of _Moral

Influences_, as a means of effecting the objects in view. Its design is,

not to bring forward new theories or new plans, but to develope and

explain, and to carry out to their practical applications, such

principles as, among all skilful and experienced teachers, are generally

admitted and acted upon. Of course it is not designed for the skilful

and the experienced themselves; but it is intended to embody what they

already know, and to present it in a practical form, for the use of

those who are beginning the work and who wish to avail themselves of the

experience which others have acquired.

Although moral influences, are the chief foundations on which the power

of the teacher over the minds and hearts of his pupils is, according to

this treatise, to rest, still it must not be imagined that the system

here recommended is one of persuasion. It is a system of

authority,--supreme and unlimited authority, a point essential in all

plans for the supervision of the young. But it is authority secured and

maintained as far as possible by moral measures. There will be no

dispute about the propriety of making the most of this class of means.

Whatever difference of opinion there may be, on the question whether

physical force, is necessary at all, every one will agree that, if ever

employed, it must be only as a last resort, and that no teacher ought to

make war upon the body, unless it is proved that he cannot conquer

through the medium of the mind.

In regard to the anecdotes and narratives which are very freely

introduced to illustrate principles in this work, the writer ought to

state, that though they are all substantially true, that is, all except

those which are expressly introduced as mere suppositions, he has not

hesitated to alter very freely, for obvious reasons, the unimportant

circumstances connected with them. He has endeavored thus to destroy the

personality of the narratives, without injuring or altering their moral

effect.

From the very nature of our employment, and of the circumstances under

which the preparation for it must be made, it is plain that, of the many

thousands who are, in the United States, annually entering the work, a

very large majority must depend for all their knowledge of the art

except what they acquire from their own observation and experience, on

what they can obtain from books. It is desirable that the class of works

from which such knowledge can be obtained should be increased. Some

excellent and highly useful specimens have already appeared, and very

many more would be eagerly read by teachers, if properly prepared. It is

essential however that they should be written by experienced teachers,

who have for some years been actively engaged, and specially interested

in the work;--that they should be written in a very practical and

familiar style,--and that they should exhibit principles which are

unquestionably true, and generally admitted by good teachers, and not

the new theories peculiar to the writer himself. In a word, utility, and

practical effect, should be the only aim.

Boston, June 20, 1833.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I.--INTEREST IN TEACHING.

Source of enjoyment in teaching. The boy and the steam engine. His

contrivance. His pleasure, and the source of it. Firing at the

mark. Plan of clearing the galleries in the British House Of

Commons. Pleasure of experimenting, and exercising intellectual and

moral power. The indifferent, and inactive teacher. His subsequent

experiments; means of awakening interest. Offences of pupils.

Different ways of regarding them.

Teaching really attended with peculiar trials and difficulties. 1.

Moral responsibility for the conduct of pupils. 2. Multiplicity of

the objects of attention. Page 11

CHAPTER II.--GENERAL ARRANGEMENTS.

Objects to be aimed at, in the General Arrangements. Systematising

the teacher's work. Necessity of having only one thing to attend to

at a time.

1. Whispering and leaving seats. An experiment. Method of

regulating this. Introduction of the new plan. Difficulties.

Dialogue with pupils. Study card. Construction and use.

2. Mending pens. Unnecessary trouble from this source. Degree of

importance to be attached to good pens. Plan for providing them.

3. Answering questions. Evils. Each pupil's fair proportion of

time. Questions about lessons. When the teacher should refuse to

answer them. Rendering assistance. When to be refused.

4. Hearing recitations. Regular arrangement of them. Punctuality.

Plan and schedule. General Exercises. Subjects to be attended to at

them.

General arrangements of Government. Power to be delegated to

pupils. Gardiner Lyceum. Its government. The trial. Real republican

government impracticable in schools. Delegated power. Experiment

with the writing books. Quarrel about the nail. Offices for pupils.

Cautions. Danger of insubordination. New plans to be introduced

gradually. 29

CHAPTER III.--INSTRUCTION.

The three important branches. The objects which are really most

important. Advanced scholars. Examination of school and scholars at

the outset. Acting on numbers. Extent to which it may be carried.

Recitation and Instruction.

1. Recitation. Its object. Importance of a thorough examination of

the class. Various modes. Perfect regularity and order necessary.

Example. Story of the pencils. Time wasted by too minute an

attention to individuals. Example. Answers given simultaneously to

save time. Excuses. Dangers in simultaneous recitation. Means of

avoiding them. Advantages of this mode. Examples. Written answers.

2. Instruction. Means of exciting interest. Variety. Examples.

Showing the connexion between the studies of school and the

business of life. Example, from the controversy between General and

State Governments. Mode of illustrating it. Proper way of meeting

difficulties. Leading pupils to surmount them. True way to

encourage the young to meet difficulties. The boy and the

wheelbarrow. Difficult examples in Arithmetic.

Proper way of rendering assistance. (1.) Simply analyzing intricate

subjects. Dialogue on longitude. (2.) Making previous truths

perfectly familiar. Experiment with the Multiplication table. Latin

Grammar lesson. Geometry.

3. General cautions. Doing work for the scholar. Dulness. Interest

in all the pupils. Making all alike. Faults of pupils. The

teacher's own mental habits. False pretensions. 64

CHAPTER IV.--MORAL DISCIPLINE.

First impressions. Story. Danger of devoting too much attention to

individual instances. The profane boy. Case described. Confession

of the boys. Success. The untidy desk. Measures in consequence.

Interesting the scholars in the good order of the school. Securing

a majority. Example. Reports about the desks. The new College

building. Modes of interesting the boys. The irregular class. Two

ways of remedying the evil. Boys' love of system and regularity.

Object of securing a majority, and particular means of doing it.

Making school pleasant. Discipline should generally be private. In

all cases that are brought before the school, public opinion in the

teacher's favor should be secured. Story of the rescue. Feelings of

displeasure against what is wrong. The teacher under moral

obligation, and governed, himself, by law. Description of the

_Moral Exercise_. Prejudice. The scholars' written remarks, and the

teacher's comments. The spider. List of subjects. Anonymous

writing. Specimens. Marks of a bad scholar. Consequences of being

behindhand. New scholars. A Satirical spirit. Variety.

Treatment of individual offenders. Ascertaining who they are.

Studying their characters. Securing their personal attachment.

Asking assistance. The whistle. Open, frank dealing. Example.

Dialogue with James. Communications in writing. 105

CHAPTER V.--RELIGIOUS INFLUENCE.

The American mechanic at Paris. A congregational teacher among

Quakers. Parents have the ultimate right to decide how their

children shall be educated.

Agreement in religious opinion, in this country. Principle which is to

guide the teacher on this subject. Limits and restrictions to religious

influence in school. Religious truths which are generally admitted in

this country. The existence of God. Human responsibility. Immortality of

the soul. A revelation. Nature of piety. Salvation by Christ. Teacher to

do nothing on this subject but what he may do by the common consent of

his employers. Reasons for explaining distinctly these limits.

Particular measures proposed. Opening exercises. Prayer. Singing.

Direct instruction. Mode of giving it. Example; arrangement of the

Epistles in the New Testament. Dialogue. Another example; scene in

the woods. Cautions. Affected simplicity of language. Evils of it.

Minute details. Example; motives to study. Dialogue. Mingling

religious influence with the direct discipline of the school.

Fallacious indications of piety. Sincerity of the Teacher. 152

CHAPTER VI.--MT. VERNON SCHOOL.

Reason for inserting the description. Advantage of visiting

schools; and of reading descriptions of them. Addressed to a new

scholar.

1. Her personal duty. Study card. Rule. But one rule. Cases when

this rule may be waived. 1. At the direction of teachers. 2. On

extraordinary emergencies. Reasons for the rule. Anecdote.

Punishments. Incident described. Confession.

2. Order of Daily Exercises. Opening of the school. Schedules.

Hours of study and recess. General Exercises. Business. Examples.

Sections.

3. Instruction and supervision of pupils. Classes. Organization.

Sections. Duties of superintendents.

4. Officers. Design in appointing them. Their names and duties.

Example of the operation of the system.

5. The Court. Its plan and design. A trial described.

6. Religious Instruction. Principles inculcated. Measures.

Religious exercises in school. Meeting on Saturday afternoon.

Concluding remarks. 181

CHAPTER VII.--SCHEMING.

Time lost upon fruitless schemes. Proper province of ingenuity and

enterprise. Cautions. Case supposed. The spelling class; an

experiment with it; its success and its consequences. System of

literary institutions in this country. Directions to a young

teacher on the subject of forming new plans. New institutions; new

school books. Ingenuity and enterprise very useful, within proper

limits. Ways of making known new plans. Periodicals. Family

newspapers. Teacher's meetings.

Rights of Committees, Trustees, or Patrons, in the control of the

school. Principle which ought to govern. Case supposed. Extent to

which the teacher is bound by the wishes of his employers. 221

CHAPTER VIII.--REPORTS OF CASES.

Plan of the Chapter. Hats and Bonnets. Injury to clothes. Mistakes

which are not censurable. Tardiness; plan for punishing it. Helen's

lesson. Firmness in measures united with mildness of manner.

Insincere confession: scene in a class. Court. Trial of a case.

Teacher's personal character. The way to elevate the character of

the employment. Six hours only to be devoted to school. The

Chestnut Burr. Scene in the wood. Dialogue in school. An

experiment. Series of Lessons in writing. The correspondence. Two

kinds of management. Plan of weekly reports. The shopping exercise.

Example. Artifices in Recitations. Keeping Resolutions; notes of

Teacher's Lecture. Topics. Plan and illustration of the exercise.

Introduction of music. Tabu. Mental Analysis. Scene in a class. 242

THE TEACHER.

CHAPTER I.

INTEREST IN TEACHING.

There is a most singular contrariety of opinion prevailing in the

community, in regard to the _pleasantness_ of the business of teaching.

Some teachers go to their daily task, merely upon compulsion: they

regard it as intolerable drudgery. Others love the work: they hover

around the school-room as long as they can, and never cease to think,

and seldom to talk, of their delightful labors.

Unfortunately there are too many of the former class, and the first

object, which, in this work, I shall attempt to accomplish, is to show

my readers, especially those who have been accustomed to look upon the

business of teaching as a weary and heartless toil, how it happens, that

it is, in any case, so pleasant. The human mind is always, essentially,

the same. That which is tedious and joyless to one, will be so to

another, if pursued in the same way, and under the same circumstances.

And teaching, if it is pleasant, animating, and exciting to one, may be

so to all.

I am met, however, at the outset, in my effort to show why it is that

teaching is ever a pleasant work, by the want of a name for a certain

faculty or capacity of the human mind, through which most of the

enjoyment of teaching finds its avenue. Every mind is so constituted as

to take a positive pleasure in the exercise of ingenuity in adapting

means to an end, and in watching their operation;--in accomplishing by

the intervention of instruments, what we could not accomplish

without;--in devising, (when we see an object to be effected, which is

too great for our _direct_ and _immediate_ power) and setting at work,

some _instrumentality_, which may be sufficient to accomplish it.

It is said, that, when the steam engine was first put into operation,

such was the imperfection of the machinery, that a boy was necessarily

stationed at it, to open and shut alternately the cock, by which the

steam was now admitted, and now shut out, from the cylinder. One such

boy, after patiently doing his work for many days, contrived to connect

this stop-cock with some of the moving parts of the engine, by a wire,

in such a manner, that the engine itself did the work which had been

entrusted to him; and after seeing that the whole business would go

regularly forward, he left the wire in charge, and went away to play.

Such is the story. Now if it is true, how much pleasure the boy must

have experienced, in devising and witnessing the successful operation of

his scheme; I do not mean the pleasure of relieving himself from a dull

and wearisome duty; I do not mean the pleasure of anticipated play; but

I mean the strong interest he must have taken in _contriving_ and

_executing_ his plan. When, wearied out with his dull, monotonous work,

he first noticed those movements of the machinery which he thought

adapted to his purpose, and the plan flashed into his mind, how must his

eye have brightened, and how quick must the weary listlessness of his

employment have vanished. While he was maturing his plan, and carrying

it into execution;--while adjusting his wires, fitting them to the exact

length, and to the exact position,--and especially, when, at last, he

watches the first successful operation of his contrivance,--he must have

enjoyed a pleasure, which very few, even of the joyous sports of

childhood, could have supplied.

It is not, however, exactly the pleasure of exercising _ingenuity in

contrivance_, that I refer to here; for the teacher has not, after all,

a great deal of absolute contriving to do,--or rather his _principal

business_ is not contriving. The greatest and most permanent source of

pleasure to the boy, in such a case as I have described, is his feeling

that he is accomplishing a great effect by a slight effort of his own;

the feeling of power; acting through the _intervention of

instrumentality_, so as to multiply his power. So great would be this

satisfaction, that he would almost wish to have some other similar work

assigned him, that he might have another opportunity to contrive some

plan for its easy accomplishment.

Looking at an object to be accomplished, or an evil to be remedied, then

studying its nature and extent, and devising and executing some means

for effecting the purpose desired, is, in all cases, a source of

pleasure; especially when, by the process, we bring to view or to

operation, new powers, or powers heretofore hidden, whether they are our

own powers, or those of objects upon which we act. Experimenting has a

sort of magical fascination for all. Some do not like the trouble of

making preparations, but all are eager to see the results. Contrive a

new machine, and every body will be interested to witness, or to hear of

its operation;--develope any heretofore unknown properties of matter, or

secure some new useful effect, from laws which men have not hitherto

employed for their purposes, and the interest of all around you will be

excited to observe your results;--and especially, you will yourself take

a deep and permanent pleasure, in guiding and controlling the power you

have thus obtained.

This is peculiarly the case with experiments upon mind, or experiments

for producing effects through the medium of voluntary acts of the human

mind, so that the contriver must take into consideration the laws of

mind in forming his plans. To illustrate this by rather a childish case:

I once knew a boy who was employed by his father to remove all the loose

small stones, which, from the peculiar nature of the ground, had

accumulated in the road before the house. He was to take them up, and

throw them over into the pasture, across the way. He soon got tired of

picking them up one by one, and sat down upon the bank, to try to devise

some better means of accomplishing his work. He at length conceived and

adopted the following plan. He set up, in the pasture, a narrow board,

for a target, or as boys would call it, a mark,--and then, collecting

all the boys of the neighborhood, he proposed to them an amusement,

which boys are always ready for,--firing at a mark. I need not say that

the stores of ammunition in the street were soon exhausted; the boys

working for their leader, when they supposed they were only finding

amusement for themselves.

Here now, is experimenting upon the mind;--the production of useful

effect with rapidity and ease, by the intervention of proper

instrumentality;--the conversion, by means of a little knowledge of

human nature, of that which would have otherwise been dull and fatiguing

labor, into a most animating sport, giving pleasure to twenty, instead

of tedious labor to one. Now the contrivance and execution of such plans

is a source of positive pleasure; it is always pleasant to bring the

properties and powers of matter into requisition to promote our

designs,--but there is a far higher pleasure in controlling, and

guiding, and moulding to our purpose the movements of mind.

It is this which gives interest to the plans and operation of human

governments. They can do little by actual force. Nearly all the power

that is held, even by the most despotic executive, must be based on an

adroit management of the principles of human nature, so as to lead men

voluntarily to cooperate with the ruler, in his plans. Even an army

could not be got into battle, in many cases, without a most ingenious

arrangement, by means of which half a dozen men can drive, literally

drive, as many thousands, into the very face of danger and death. The

difficulty of leading men to battle must have been for a long time a

very perplexing one to generals. It was at last removed by the very

simple expedient of creating a greater danger behind than there is

before. Without ingenuity of contrivance like this,--turning one

principle of human nature against another, and making it for the

momentary interest of men to act in a given way, no government could

stand a year.

I know of nothing which illustrates more perfectly the way by which a

knowledge of human nature is to be turned to account in managing human

minds, than a plan which was adopted for clearing the galleries of the

British House of Commons, as it was described to me by a gentleman who

had visited London. It is well known that the gallery is appropriated to

spectators, and that it sometimes becomes necessary to order them to

retire, when a vote is to be taken, or private business is to be

transacted. When the officer in attendance was ordered to clear the

gallery, it was sometimes found to be a very troublesome and slow

operation; for those who first went out, remained obstinately as close

to the doors as possible, so as to secure the opportunity to come in

again first, when the doors should be re-opened. The consequence was,

there was so great an accumulation around the doors outside, that it was

almost impossible for the crowd to get out. The whole difficulty arose

from the eager desire of every one to remain as near as possible to the

door, _through which they were to come back again_. I have been told,

that, notwithstanding the utmost efforts of the officers, fifteen

minutes were sometimes consumed in effecting the object, when the order

was given that the spectators should retire.

The whole difficulty was removed by a very simple plan. One door only

was opened when the crowd was to retire, and they were then admitted

through the other. The consequence was, that as soon as the order was

given to clear the galleries, every one fled as fast as possible through

the open door around to the one which was closed, so as to be ready to

enter first, when that, in its turn, should be opened; this was usually

in a few minutes, as the purpose for which the spectators were ordered

to retire was usually simply to allow time for taking a vote. Here it

will be seen that by the operation of a very simple plan, the very

eagerness of the crowd to get back as soon as possible, which had been

the _sole cause of the difficulty_, was turned to account most

effectually to remove it. Before, they were so eager to return, that

they crowded around the door so as to prevent others going out. But by

this simple plan of ejecting them by one door, and admitting them by

another, that very circumstance made them clear the passage at once, and

hurried every one away into the lobby, the moment the command was given.

The planner of this scheme must have taken great pleasure in seeing its

successful operation; though the officer who should go steadily on,

endeavoring to remove the reluctant throng by dint of mere driving,

might well have found his task unpleasant. But the exercise of ingenuity

in studying the nature of the difficulty with which a man has to

contend, and bringing in some antagonist principle of human nature to

remove it, or if not an antagonist principle, a similar principle,

operating, by a peculiar arrangement of circumstances, in an antagonist

manner, is always pleasant. From this source a large share of the

enjoyment which men find in the active pursuits of life, has its origin.

The teacher has the whole field, which this subject opens, fully before

him. He has human nature to deal with, most directly. His whole work is

experimenting upon mind; and the mind which is before him to be the

subject of his operation, is exactly in the state to be most easily and

pleasantly operated upon. The reason now why some teachers find their

work delightful, and some find it wearisomeness and tedium itself, is

that some do, and some do not take this view of their work. One

instructer is like the engine-boy, turning without cessation or change,

his everlasting stop-cock, in the same ceaseless, mechanical, and

monotonous routine. Another is like the little workman in his brighter

moments, fixing his invention and watching with delight its successful

and easy accomplishment of his wishes. One is like the officer, driving

by vociferations and threats, and demonstrations of violence, the

spectators from the galleries. The other, like the shrewd contriver, who

converts the very cause which was the whole ground of the difficulty, to

a most successful and efficient means of its removal.

These principles show how teaching may, in some cases, be a delightful

employment, while in others, its tasteless dulness is interrupted by

nothing but its perplexities and cares. The school-room is in reality, a

little empire of mind. If the one who presides in it, sees it in its

true light; studies the nature and tendency of the minds which he has to

control; adapts his plans and his measures to the laws of human nature,

and endeavors to accomplish his purposes for them, not by mere labor

and force, but by ingenuity and enterprise; he will take pleasure in

administering his little government. He will watch, with care and

interest, the operation of the moral and intellectual causes which he

sets in operation; and find, as he accomplishes his various objects with

increasing facility and power, that he will derive a greater and greater

pleasure from his work.

Now when a teacher thus looks upon his school as a field in which he is

to exercise skill and ingenuity and enterprise; when he studies the laws

of human nature, and the character of those minds upon which he has to

act; when he explores deliberately the nature of the field which he has

to cultivate, and of the objects which he wishes to accomplish; and

applies means, judiciously and skilfully adapted to the object; he must

necessarily take a strong interest in his work. But when, on the other

hand, he goes to his employment, only to perform a certain regular round

of daily work, undertaking nothing, and anticipating nothing but this

dull and unchangeable routine; and when he looks upon his pupils merely

as passive objects of his labors, whom he is to treat with simple

indifference while they obey his commands, and to whom he is only to

apply reproaches and punishment when they disobey; such a teacher never

can take pleasure in the school. Weariness and dulness must reign in

both master and scholars, when things, as he imagines, are going right;

and mutual anger and crimination, when they go wrong.

Scholars never can be instructed by the power of any dull mechanical

routine; nor can they be governed by the blind, naked strength of the

master; such means must fail of the accomplishment of the purposes

designed, and consequently the teacher who tries such a course must have

constantly upon his mind the discouraging, disheartening burden of

unsuccessful and almost useless labor. He is continually uneasy,

dissatisfied and filled with anxious cares; and sources of vexation and

perplexity continually arise. He attempts to remove evils by waging

against them a useless and most vexatious warfare of threatening and

punishment; and he is trying continually _to drive_, when he might know

that neither the intellect nor the heart are capable of being driven.

I will simply state one case, to illustrate what I mean by the

difference between blind force, and active ingenuity and enterprise, in

the management of school. I once knew the teacher of a school, who made

it his custom to have writing attended to in the afternoon. The boys

were accustomed to take their places, at the appointed hour, and each

one would stick up his pen in the front of his desk for the teacher to

pass around and mend them. The teacher would accordingly pass around,

mending the pens from desk to desk, thus enabling the boys, in

succession, to begin their task. Of course each boy before he came to

his desk was necessarily idle, and, almost necessarily, in mischief. Day

after day the teacher went through this regular routine. He sauntered

slowly and listlessly through the aisles, and among the benches of the

room, wherever he saw the signal of a pen. He paid of course very little

attention to the writing, now and then reproving, with an impatient

tone, some extraordinary instance of carelessness, or leaving his work

to suppress some rising disorder. Ordinarily, however, he seemed to be

lost in vacancy of thought,--dreaming perhaps of other scenes, or

inwardly repining at the eternal monotony and tedium of a teacher's

life. His boys took no interest in their work, and of course made no

progress. They were sometimes unnecessarily idle, and sometimes

mischievous, but never usefully or pleasantly employed; for the whole

hour was past before the pens could all be brought down. Wasted time,

blotted books, and fretted tempers, were all the results which the

system produced.

The same teacher afterwards acted on a very different principle. He

looked over the field and said to himself, what are the objects I wish

to accomplish in this writing exercise, and how can I best accomplish

them? I wish to obtain the greatest possible amount of industrious and

careful practice in writing. The first thing evidently is, to save the

wasted time. He accordingly made preparation for mending the pens at a

previous hour, so that all should be ready, at the appointed time, to

commence the work together. This could be done quite as conveniently

when the boys were engaged in studying, by requesting them to put out

their pens at an appointed and _previous_ time. He sat at his table, and

the pens of a whole bench were brought to him, and, after being

carefully mended, were returned, to be in readiness for the writing

hour. Thus the first difficulty, the loss of time, was obviated.

"I must make them _industrious_ while they write," was his next thought.

After thinking of a variety of methods, he determined to try the

following. He required all to begin together at the top of the page and

write the same line, in a hand of the same size. They were all required

to begin together, he himself beginning at the same time, and writing

about as fast as he thought they ought to write, in order to secure the

highest improvement. When he had finished his line, he ascertained how

many had preceded him, and how many were behind. He requested the first

to write slower, and the others faster, and by this means, after a few

trials, he secured uniform, regular, systematic and industrious

employment, throughout the school. Probably there were, at first,

difficulties in the operation of the plan, which he had to devise ways

and means to surmount: but what I mean to present particularly to the

reader is, that he was _interested in his experiments_. While sitting in

his desk, giving his command to _begin_ line after line, and noticing

the unbroken silence, and attention, and interest, which prevailed, (for

each boy was interested to see how nearly with the master he could

finish his work,) while presiding over such a scene, he must have been

interested. He must have been pleased with the exercise of his almost

military command, and to witness how effectually order and industry, and

excited and pleased attention, had taken the place of listless idleness

and mutual dissatisfaction.

After a few days, he appointed one of the older and more judicious

scholars, to give the word for beginning and ending the lines, and he

sat surveying the scene, or walking from desk to desk, noticing faults,

and considering what plans he could form for securing, more and more

fully, the end he had in view. He found that the great object of

interest and attention among the boys was, to come out right, and that

less pains were taken with the formation of the letters, than there

ought to be, to secure the most rapid improvement.

But how shall he secure greater pains? By stern commands and threats? By

going from desk to desk, scolding one, rapping the knuckles of another,

and holding up to ridicule a third, making examples of such individuals

as may chance to attract his special attention? No; he has learned that

he is operating upon a little empire of mind, and that he is not to

endeavor to drive them as a man drives a herd, by mere peremptory

command or half angry blows. He must study the nature of the effect he

is to produce, and of the materials upon which he is to work, and adopt,

after mature deliberation, a plan to accomplish his purpose, founded

upon the principles which ought always to regulate the action of mind

upon mind, and adapted to produce the _intellectual effect_, which he

wishes to accomplish.

In the case supposed, the teacher concluded to appeal to emulation.

While I describe the measure he adopted, let it be remembered that I am

now only approving of the resort to ingenuity and invention, and the

employment of moral and intellectual means, for the accomplishment of

his purposes, and not of the measures themselves. I do not think the

plan I am going to describe a wise one; but I do think that the teacher,

while trying it, must _have been interested in his intellectual

experiment_. His business, while pursued in such a way, could not have

been a mere dull and uninteresting routine.

He purchased, for three cents apiece, two long lead-pencils, an article

of great value, in the opinion of the boys of country schools; and he

offered them, as prizes, to the boy who would write most carefully; not

to the one who should write _best_, but to the one whose book should

exhibit most appearance of _effort_ and _care_ for a week. After

announcing his plan, he watched, with strong interest its operation. He

walked round the room while the writing was in progress, to observe the

effect of his measure. He did not reprove those who were writing

carelessly; he simply noticed who and how many they were. He did not

commend those who were evidently making effort; he noticed who and how

many they were, that he might understand how far, and upon what sort of

minds, his experiment was successful, and where it failed. He was taking

a lesson in human nature,--human nature as it exhibits itself in boys,

and was preparing to operate more and more powerfully by future plans.

The lesson which he learned by the experiment was this, that one or two

prizes will not influence the majority of a large school. A few seemed

to think that the pencils were possibly within their reach, and _they_

made vigorous efforts to secure them; but the rest wrote on as before.

Thinking it certain that they should be surpassed by the others, they

gave up the contest, at once, in despair.

The obvious remedy was to multiply his prizes, so as to bring one within

the reach of all. He reflected too that the real prize, in such a case,

is not the value of the pencil, but the _honor of the victory_; and as

the honor of the victory might as well be coupled with an object of

less, as well as with one of greater value, the next week he divided his

two pencils into quarters, and offered to his pupils eight prizes

instead of two. He offered one to every five scholars, as they sat on

their benches, and every boy then saw, that a reward would certainly

come within five of him. His chance, accordingly, instead of being one

in twenty, became one in five.

Now is it possible for a teacher, after having philosophized upon the

nature of the minds upon which he is operating, and surveyed the field,

and ingeniously formed a plan, which plan he hopes will, through his own

intrinsic power, produce certain effects,--is it possible for him when

he comes, for the first day, to witness its operations, to come without

feeling a strong interest in the result? It is impossible. After having

formed such a plan, and made such arrangements, he will look forward,

almost with impatience, to the next writing hour. He wishes to see

whether he has estimated the mental capacities and tendencies of his

little community aright; and when the time comes, and he surveys the

scene, and observes the operation of his measure, and sees many more

are reached by it, than were influenced before, he feels a strong

gratification; and it is a gratification which is founded upon the

noblest principles of our nature. He is tracing on a most interesting

field, the operation of cause and effect. From being the mere drudge,

who drives, without intellect or thought, a score or two of boys to

their daily tasks, he rises to the rank of an intellectual philosopher,

exploring the laws and successfully controlling the tendencies of mind.

It will be observed too, that all the time this teacher was performing

these experiments, and watching, with intense interest, the results, his

pupils were going on undisturbed in their pursuits. The exercises in

writing were not interrupted or deranged. This is a point of fundamental

importance; for, if what I should say on the subject of exercising

ingenuity and contrivance in teaching, should be the means, in any case,

of leading a teacher to break in upon the regular duties of his school,

and destroy the steady uniformity with which the great objects of such

an institution should be pursued, my remarks had better never have been

written. There may be variety in methods and plan; but through all this

variety, the school, and every individual pupil of it, must go steadily

forward in the acquisition of that knowledge which is of greatest

importance in the business of future life. In other words, the

variations and changes, admitted by the teacher, ought to be mainly

confined to the modes of accomplishing those permanent objects to which

all the exercises and arrangements of the school ought steadily to aim.

More on this subject however in another chapter.

I will mention one other circumstance, which will help to explain the

difference in interest and pleasure with which teachers engage in their

work. I mean the different views they take _of the offences of their

pupils_. One class of teachers seem never to make it a part of their

calculation that their pupils will do wrong, and when any misconduct

occurs, they are disconcerted and irritated, and look and act as if some

unexpected occurrence had broken in upon their plans. Others understand

and consider all this beforehand. They seem to think a little, before

they go into their school, what sort of beings boys and girls are, and

any ordinary case of youthful delinquency or dulness does not surprise

them. I do not mean that they treat such cases with indifference or

neglect, but that they _expect_ them, and _are prepared for them_. Such

a teacher knows that boys and girls, are the _materials_ he has to work

upon, and he takes care to make himself acquainted with these materials,

_just as they are_. The other class however, do not seem to know at all,

what sort of beings they have to deal with, or if they know, do not

_consider_. They expect from them what is not to be obtained, and then

are disappointed and vexed at the failure. It is as if a carpenter

should attempt to support an entablature by pillars of wood too small

and weak for the weight, and then go on, from week to week, suffering

anxiety and irritation, as he sees them swelling and splitting under the

burden, and finding fault _with the wood_, instead of taking it to

himself.

It is, of course, one essential part of a man's duty in engaging in any

undertaking, whether it will lead him to act upon matter or upon mind,

to become first well acquainted with the circumstances of the case,--the

materials he is to act upon, and the means which he may reasonably

expect to have at his command. If he underrates his difficulties, or

overrates the power of his means of overcoming them, it is his mistake;

a mistake for which _he_ is fully responsible. Whatever may be the

nature of the effect which he aims at accomplishing, he ought fully to

understand it, and to appreciate justly the difficulties which lie in

the way.

Teachers however very often overlook this. A man comes home from his

school at night, perplexed and irritated by the petty misconduct which

he has witnessed, and been trying to check. He does not however, look

forward and try to prevent the occasions of it, adapting his measures to

the nature of the material upon which he has to operate; but he stands

like the carpenter at his columns, making himself miserable in looking

at it, after it occurs, and wondering what to do.

"Sir," we might say to him, "what is the matter?"

"Why, I have such boys, I can do nothing with them. Were it not for

_their misconduct_, I might have a very good school."

"Were it not for the boys? Why, is there any peculiar depravity in them

which you could not have foreseen?"

"No; I suppose they are pretty much like all other boys," he replies

despairingly; "they are all hair-brained and unmanageable. The plans I

have formed for my school, would be excellent if my boys would only

behave properly."

"Excellent plans," might we not reply, "and yet not adapted to the

materials upon which they are to operate! No. It is your business to

know what sort of beings boys are, and to make your calculations

accordingly."

* * * * *

Two teachers may therefore manage their schools in totally different

ways: so that one of them, may necessarily find the business a dull,

mechanical routine, except as it is occasionally varied by perplexity

and irritation; and the other, a prosperous and happy employment. The

one goes on mechanically the same, and depends for his power on

violence, or on threats and demonstrations of violence. The other brings

all his ingenuity and enterprise into the field, to accomplish a steady

purpose, by means ever varying, and depends for his power, on his

knowledge of human nature, and on the adroit adaptation of plans to her

fixed and uniform tendencies.

I am very sorry however to be obliged to say, that probably the latter

class of teachers are decidedly in the minority. To practice the art in

such a way as to make it an agreeable employment, is difficult, and it

requires much knowledge of human nature, much attention and skill. And,

after all, there are some circumstances necessarily attending the work

which constitute a heavy drawback on the pleasures which it might

otherwise afford. The almost universal impression that the business of

teaching is attended with peculiar trials and difficulties, proves this.

There must be some cause for an impression so general. It is not right

to call it a prejudice, for, although a single individual may conceive

a prejudice, whole communities very seldom do, unless in some case,

which is presented at once to the whole, so that looking at it, through

a common medium, all judge wrong together. But the general opinion in

regard to teaching is composed of a vast number of _separate_ and

_independent_ judgments, and there must be some good ground for the

universal result.

It is best therefore, if there are any real and peculiar sources of

trial and difficulty in this pursuit, that they should be distinctly

known and acknowledged at the outset. Count the cost before going to

war. It is even better policy to overrate, than to underrate it. Let us

see then what the real difficulties of teaching are.

It is not however, as is generally supposed, _the confinement_. A

teacher is confined, it is true, but not more than men of other

professions and employments; not more than a merchant, and probably not

as much. A physician is confined in a different way, but more closely

than a teacher: he can never leave home: he knows generally no vacation,

and nothing but accidental rest.

The lawyer is confined as much. It is true, there are not throughout the

year, exact hours which he must keep, but considering the imperious

demands of his business, his personal liberty is probably restrained as

much by it, as that of the teacher. So with all the other professions.

Although the nature of the confinement may vary, it amounts to about the

same in all. On the other hand the teacher enjoys, in reference to this

subject of confinement, an advantage, which scarcely any other class of

men does or can enjoy. I mean vacations. A man in any other business may

_force_ himself away from it, for a time, but the cares and anxieties of

his business will follow him wherever he goes, and it seems to be

reserved for the teacher, to enjoy alone the periodical luxury of a

_real and entire release from business and care_. On the whole, as to

confinement, it seems to me that the teacher has but little ground of

complaint.

There are however some real and serious difficulties which always have,

and it is to be feared, always will, cluster around this employment; and

which must, for a long time, at least, lead most men to desire some

other employment for the business of life. There may perhaps be some,

who by their peculiar skill, can overcome, or avoid them, and perhaps

the science may, at some future day, be so far improved, that all may

avoid them. As I describe them however now, most of the teachers into

whose hands this treatise may fall, will probably find that their own

experience corresponds, in this respect, with mine.

1. The first great difficulty which the teacher feels, is a sort of

_moral responsibility for the conduct of others_. If his pupils do

wrong, he feels almost personal responsibility for it. As he walks out,

some afternoon, weary with his labors, and endeavoring to forget, for a

little time, all his cares, he comes upon a group of boys, in rude and

noisy quarrels, or engaged in mischief of some sort, and his heart sinks

within him. It is hard enough for any one to witness their bad conduct,

with a spirit unruffled and undisturbed, but for their teacher, it is

perhaps impossible. He feels _responsible_; in fact he is responsible.

If his scholars are disorderly, or negligent, or idle, or quarrelsome,

he feels _condemned himself_, almost as if he were, himself, the actual

transgressor.

This difficulty is in a great degree, peculiar to a teacher. A physician

is called upon to prescribe for a patient; he examines the case, and

writes his prescription. When this is done, his duty is ended, and

whether the patient obeys the prescription and lives, or neglects it and

dies, the physician feels exonerated from all responsibility. He may,

and in some cases does feel _anxious concern_, and may regret the

infatuation by which, in some unhappy case, a valuable life may be

hazarded or destroyed. But he feels no _moral responsibility_ for

another's guilt.

It is so with all the other employments in life. They do indeed often

bring men into collision with other men. But though sometimes vexed, and

irritated by the conduct of a neighbor, a client, or a patient, they

feel not half the bitterness of the solicitude and anxiety which come to

the teacher through the criminality of his pupil. In ordinary cases he

not only feels responsible for efforts, but for their results; and when,

notwithstanding all his efforts, his pupils will do wrong, his spirit

sinks, with an intensity of anxious despondency, which none but a

teacher can understand.

This feeling of almost _moral accountability for the guilt of other

persons_, is a continual burden. The teacher in the presence of the

pupil never is free from it. It links him to them by a bond, which,

perhaps, he ought not to sunder, and which he cannot sunder if he would.

And sometimes, when those committed to his charge are idle, or

faithless, or unprincipled, it wears away his spirits and his health

together. I think there is nothing analogous to this moral connexion

between teacher and pupil, unless it be in the case of a parent and

child. And here on account of the comparative smallness of the number

under the parent's care, the evil is so much diminished that it is

easily borne.

2. The second great difficulty of the teacher's employments, is _the

immense multiplicity of the objects of his attention and care_, during

the time he is employed in his business. His scholars are individuals,

and notwithstanding all that the most systematic can do, in the way of

classification, they must be attended to in a great measure, as

individuals. A merchant keeps his commodities together, and looks upon a

cargo composed of ten thousand articles, and worth 100,000 dollars as

one: he speaks of it as one: and there is, in many cases, no more

perplexity in planning its destination, than if it were a single box of

raisins. A lawyer may have a great many important cases, but he has only

one at a time; that is, he _attends_ to but one at a time. That one may

be intricate,--involving many facts and requiring to be examined in many

aspects and relations. But he looks at but few of these facts and

regards but few of these relations at a time. The points which demand

his attention come, one after another, in regular succession. His mind

may thus be kept calm. He avoids confusion and perplexity. But no skill

or classification will turn the poor teacher's hundred scholars into

one, or enable him, except to a very limited extent, and for a very

limited purpose, to regard them as one. He has a distinct, and, in many

respects, a different work to do for every one of the crowd before him.

Difficulties must be explained in detail; questions must be answered one

by one; and each scholar's own conduct and character must be considered

by itself. His work is thus made up of a thousand minute particulars,

which are all crowding upon his attention at once, and which he cannot

group together, or combine, or simplify. He must by some means or other

attend to them in all their distracting individuality. And in a large

and complicated school, the endless multiplicity and variety of objects

of attention and care, impose a task under which few intellects can long

stand.

I have said that this endless multiplicity and variety cannot be reduced

and simplified by classification. I mean, of course, that this can be

done only to a very limited extent, compared with what may be effected

in the other pursuits of mankind. Were it not for the art of

classification and system, no school could have more than ten scholars,

as I intend hereafter to show. The great reliance of the teacher is upon

this art, to reduce to some tolerable order, what would otherwise be the

inextricable confusion of his business. He _must be systematic_. He must

classify and arrange; but after he has done all that he can, he must

still expect that his daily business will continue to consist of a vast

multitude of minute particulars, from one to another of which the mind

must turn with a rapidity, which, few of the other employments of life

ever demand.

These are the essential sources of difficulty with which the teacher has

to contend; but, as I shall endeavor to show in succeeding chapters,

though they cannot be entirely removed, they can be so far mitigated by

the appropriate means, as to render the employment a happy one. I have

thought it best however, as this work will doubtless be read by many,

who, when they read it, are yet to begin their labors, to describe

frankly and fully to them the difficulties which beset the path they are

about to enter. "The wisdom of the prudent is, to understand his way. It

is often wisdom to understand it beforehand."

The Teacher Or, Moral Influences Employed in the Instruction and Government of the Young · 第 1 / 9 章