CHAPTER III.

INSTRUCTION.

There are three kinds of human knowledge which stand strikingly distinct

from all the rest. They lie at the foundation. They constitute the roots

of the tree. In other words, they are the _means_, by which all other

knowledge is acquired. I need not say, that I mean, Reading, Writing,

and Calculation.

Teachers do not perhaps always consider, how entirely and essentially

distinct these three are from all the rest. They are arts; the

acquisition of them is not to be considered as knowledge, so much as the

means, by which knowledge may be obtained. A child, who is studying

Geography, or History, or Natural Science, is learning _facts_,--gaining

information; on the other hand, the one who is learning to write, or to

read, or to calculate, may be adding little or nothing to his stock of

knowledge. He is acquiring _skill_, which, at some future time, he may

make the means of increasing his knowledge, to any extent.

This distinction ought to be kept constantly in view, and the teacher

should feel that these three fundamental branches stand by themselves,

and stand first in importance. I do not mean to undervalue the others,

but only to insist upon the superior value and importance of these.

Teaching a pupil to read, before he enters upon the active business of

life, is like giving a new settler an axe, as he goes to seek his new

home in the forest. Teaching him a lesson in history, is, on the other

hand, only cutting down a tree or two for him. A knowledge of natural

history, is like a few bushels of grain, gratuitously placed in his

barn; but the art of ready reckoning, is the plough, which will remain

by him for years, and help him to draw out from the soil an annual

treasure.

The great object, then, of the common schools in our country, is to

teach the whole population to read, to write, and to calculate. In fact,

so essential is it, that the accomplishment of these objects should be

secured, that it is even a question whether common schools should not be

confined to them. I say it is a _question_, for it is sometimes made so,

though public opinion has decided, that some portion of attention, at

least, should be paid to the acquisition of additional knowledge. But

after all, the amount of _knowledge_, which is actually acquired at

schools, is very small. It must be very small. The true policy is, to

aim at making all, good readers, writers, and calculators, and to

consider the other studies of the school important, chiefly as practice,

in turning these arts to useful account. In other words, the scholars

should be taught these arts, thoroughly, first of all, and in the other

studies, the main design should be to show them how to use, and interest

them in using, the arts they have thus acquired.

A great many teachers feel a much stronger interest in the one or two

scholars they may have, in Surveying, or in Latin, than they do in the

large classes, in the elementary branches, which fill the school. But a

moment's reflection will show, that such a preference is founded on a

very mistaken view. Leading forward one or two minds, from step to step,

in an advanced study, is certainly far inferior, in real dignity and

importance, to opening all the stores of written knowledge, to fifty or

a hundred. The man who neglects the interests of his school, in these

great branches, to devote his time to two or three, or half a dozen

older scholars, is unjust both to his employers and to himself.

It is the duty, therefore, of every teacher, who commences a common

district school, for a single season, to make, when he commences, an

estimate, of the state of his pupils, in reference to these three

branches. How do they all write? How do they all read? How do they

calculate? It would be well if he would make a careful examination of

the school, in this respect. Let them all write a specimen. Let all

read; and let him make a memorandum of the manner, noticing how many

read fluently, how many with difficulty, how many know only their

letters, and how many are to be taught these. Let him ascertain also,

what progress they have made in Arithmetic,--how many can readily

perform the elementary processes, and what number need instruction in

these. After thus surveying the ground, let him form his plan, and lay

out his whole strength in carrying forward, as rapidly as possible, the

_whole school_, in these studies. By this means he is acting, most

directly and powerfully, on the intelligence of the whole future

community in that place. He is opening to fifty or a hundred minds,

stores of knowledge, which they will go on exploring, for years to come.

What a descent now from such a work as this, to the mere hearing of the

recitation of half a dozen boys in Surveying!

I repeat it, that a thorough and enlightened survey of the whole school

should be taken, and plans formed for elevating the whole mass, in those

great branches of knowledge, which are to be of immediate practical use

to them in future life.

If the school is of higher order, the teacher should, in the same

manner, before he forms his plans, consider well what are the great

objects which he has to accomplish. He should ascertain what is the

existing state of his school, both as to knowledge and character;--how

long, generally, his pupils are to remain under his care,--what are to

be their future stations and conditions in life, and what objects he can

reasonably hope to effect for them, while they remain under his

influence. By means of this forethought, and consideration, he will be

enabled to work understandingly.

It is desirable, too, that what I have recommended, in reference to the

whole school, should be done with each individual. Ascertain, (by other

means however than formal examination,) to what stage his education has

advanced, and deliberately consider what objects you can reasonably

expect to effect for him, while he remains under your care. You cannot

indeed always form your plans to suit, so exactly, your general views in

regard to the school and to individuals, as you could wish. But these

general views will, in a thousand cases, modify your plans, or affect in

a greater or less degree, all your arrangements. They will keep you to a

steady purpose, and your work will go on far more systematically and

regularly, than it would, if, as in fact many teachers do, you were to

come headlong into your school, take things just as you find them, and

carry them forward at random, without end or aim.

This survey of your field being made, you are prepared to commence

definite operations, and the great difficulty, in carrying your plans

into effect, is, how to act more efficiently on _the greatest numbers at

a time_. The whole business of public instruction, if it goes on at all,

must go on by the teacher's skill in multiplying his power, by acting on

_numbers at once_. In most books on education, we are taught, almost

exclusively, how to operate on the _individual_. It is the error into

which theoretic writers almost always fall. We meet, in every

periodical, and in every treatise, and in fact, in almost every

conversation on the subject, with remarks, which sound very well by the

fire-side, but they are totally inefficient and useless in school, from

their being apparently based upon the supposition, that the teacher has

but _one_ pupil to attend to at a time. The great question in the

management of schools, is not, how you can take _one_ scholar, and lead

him forward, most rapidly, in a prescribed course, but how you can

classify and arrange _numbers_, comprising every possible variety, both

as to knowledge and capacity, so as to carry them all forward

effectually together.

The extent to which a teacher may multiply his power, by acting on

numbers at a time, is very great. In order to estimate it, we must

consider carefully what it is, when carried to the greatest extent, to

which it is capable of being carried, under the most favorable

circumstances. Now it is possible for a teacher to speak so as to be

easily heard by three hundred persons, and three hundred pupils can be

easily so seated, as to see his illustrations or diagrams. Now suppose

that three hundred pupils, all ignorant of the method of reducing

fractions to a common denominator, and yet all old enough to learn, are

collected in one room. Suppose they are all attentive and desirous of

learning, it is very plain that the process may be explained to the

whole at once, so that half an hour spent in that exercise, would enable

a very large proportion of them to understand the subject. So, if a

teacher is explaining to a class in Grammar, the difference between a

noun and verb, the explanation would do as well for several hundred, as

for the dozen who constitute the class, if arrangements could only be

made to have the hundreds hear it. But there are, perhaps, only a

hundred in the school, and of these a large part understand already the

point to be explained, and another large part are too young to attend to

it. I wish the object of these remarks not to be misunderstood. I do not

recommend the attempt to teach on so extensive a scale; I admit that it

is impracticable; I only mean to show in what the impracticability

consists, namely, in the difficulty of making such arrangements as to

derive the full benefit from the instructions rendered. They are, in the

nature of things, available to the extent I have represented, but, in

actual practice, the full benefit cannot be derived. Now, so far as we

thus fall short of this full benefit, so far there is, of course, waste;

and it is difficult or impossible to make such arrangements as will

avoid the waste, in this manner, of a large portion of every effort,

which the teacher makes.

A very small class instructed by an able teacher, is like a factory of a

hundred spindles, with a water-wheel of power sufficient for a thousand.

In such a case, even if the owner, from want of capital, or any other

cause, cannot add the other nine hundred, he ought to know how much of

his power is in fact unemployed, and make arrangements to bring it into

useful exercise, as soon as he can. The teacher in the same manner,

should understand what is the full beneficial effect, which it is

possible, _in theory_, to derive from his instructions. He should

understand, too, that just so far as he falls short of this full effect,

there is waste. It may be unavoidable; part of it unquestionably is,

like the friction of machinery, unavoidable. Still, it is waste; and it

ought to be so understood, that by the gradual perfection of the

machinery, it may be more and more fully prevented.

Always bear in mind then, when you are devoting your time to two or

three individuals in a class, that you are losing a very large part of

your labor. Your instructions are conducive to good effect, only to the

one tenth or one twentieth of the extent, to which, under more favorable

circumstances, they might be made available. And though you cannot

always avoid this loss, you ought always to be aware of it, and so to

shape your measures, as to diminish it as much as possible.

* * * * *

We come now to consider the particular measures to be adopted, in giving

instruction.

* * * * *

The objects which are to be secured, in the management of classes, are

twofold,

1. Recitation.

2. Instruction.

These two objects are, it is plain, entirely distinct. Under the latter,

is included all the explanation, and assistance, and additional

information, which the teacher may give his pupils, and, under the

former, such an _examination_ of individuals, as is necessary to secure

their careful attention to their lessons. It is unsafe to neglect either

of these points. If the class meetings are mere _recitations_, they soon

become dull and mechanical: the pupils generally take little interest in

their studies, and imbibe no literary spirit. Their intellectual

progress will, accordingly, suddenly cease, the moment they leave

school, and cease to be called upon to recite lessons. On the other

hand, if _instruction_ is all that is aimed at, and _recitation_, (by

which I mean, as above explained, such an examination of individuals as

is necessary to ascertain that they have faithfully performed the tasks

assigned,) is neglected, the exercise soon becomes not much more than a

lecture, to which those, and those only, will attend, who please.

The business, therefore, of a thorough examination of the class must

not be omitted. I do not mean, that each individual scholar must, every

day, be examined; but simply that the teacher must, in some way or

other, satisfy himself, by reasonable evidence, that the whole class are

really prepared. A great deal of ingenuity may be exercised, in

contriving means for effecting this object, in the shortest possible

time. I know of no part of the field of a teacher's labors, which may be

more facilitated, by a little ingenuity, than this.

One teacher, for instance, has a spelling lesson to hear. He begins at

the head of the line, and putting one word to each boy, goes regularly

down, each successive pupil calculating the chances whether a word,

which he can accidentally spell, will or will not come to him. If he

spells it, the teacher cannot tell whether he is prepared or not. That

word is only one among fifty, constituting the lesson. If he misses it,

the teacher cannot decide that he was unprepared. It might have been a

single accidental error.

Another teacher, hearing the same lesson, requests the boys to bring

their slates, and as he dictates the words, one after another, requires

all to write them. After they are all written, he calls upon the pupils

to spell them aloud as they have written them, simultaneously, pausing a

moment after each, to give those who are wrong, an opportunity to

indicate it, by some mark opposite the word misspelled. They all count

the number of errors and report them. He passes down the class, glancing

his eye at the work of each one, to see that all is right, noticing

particularly those slates, which, from the character of the boys, need a

more careful inspection. A teacher, who had never tried this experiment,

would be surprised at the rapidity with which such work will be done by

a class, after a little practice.

Now how different are these two methods, in their actual results! In the

latter case, the whole class are thoroughly examined. In the former, not

a single member of it, is. Let me not be understood to recommend exactly

this method of teaching spelling, as the best one to be adopted, in all

cases. I only bring it forward as an illustration of the idea, that a

little machinery, a little ingenuity, in contriving ways of acting on

the _whole_, rather than on individuals, will very much promote the

teacher's designs.

In order to facilitate such plans, it is highly desirable that the

classes should be trained to military precision and exactness in these

manipulations. What I mean by this, may perhaps be best illustrated, by

describing a case: it will show, in another branch, how much will be

gained by acting upon numbers at once, instead of upon each individual

in succession.

Imagine, then, that a teacher requested all the pupils of his school,

who could write, to take out their slates, at the hour for a general

exercise. As soon as the first bustle of opening and shutting the desks

was over, he looked around the room, and saw some ruling lines across

their slates, others wiping them all over on both sides, with sponges,

others scribbling, or writing, or making figures.

"All those," says he, with a pleasant tone and look, "who have taken out

any thing besides slates, may rise."

Several, in various parts of the room, stood up.

"All those, who have written any thing since they took out their slates,

may rise too, and those who have wiped their slates."

When all were up, he said to them, though not with a frown or a scowl,

as if they had committed some very great offence;

"Suppose a company of soldiers should be ordered to _form a line_, and

instead of simply obeying that order, they should all set at work, each

in his own way, doing something else. One man, at one end of the line,

begins to load and fire his gun; another takes out his knapsack, and

begins to eat his luncheon; a third amuses himself by going as fast as

possible through the exercise; and another still, begins to march about,

hither and thither, facing to the right and left, and performing all the

evolutions he can think of. What should you say to such a company as

that?"

The boys laughed.

"It is better," said the teacher, "when numbers are acting under the

direction of one, that they should all act _exactly together_. In this

way, we advance much faster, than we otherwise should. Be careful

therefore to do exactly what I command, and nothing more."

"_Provide a place, on your slates, large enough to write a single

line_," added the teacher, in a distinct voice. I print his orders in

italics, and his remarks and explanations in Roman letter.

"_Prepare to write._"

"I mean by this," he continued, "that you place your slates before you,

with your pencils at the place where you are to begin, so that all may

commence precisely at the same instant."

The teacher who tries such an experiment as this, will find, at such a

juncture, an expression of fixed and pleased attention upon every

countenance in school. All will be intent; all will be interested. Boys

love order and system, and acting in concert; and they will obey, with

great alacrity, such commands as these, if they are good-humoredly,

though decidedly expressed.

The teacher observed in one part of the room, a hand raised, indicating

that the boy wished to speak to him. He gave him liberty by pronouncing

his name.

"I have no pencil;" said the boy.

A dozen hands, all around him, were immediately seen fumbling in pockets

and desks, and, in a few minutes, several pencils were reached out for

his acceptance.

The boy looked at the pencils, and then at the teacher; he did not

exactly know, whether he was to take one or not.

"All those boys," said the teacher, pleasantly, "who have taken out

pencils, may rise."

"Have these boys done right, or wrong?"

"Right;" "Wrong;" "Right;" answered their companions, variously.

"Their motive was to help their classmate out of his difficulties; that

is a good feeling, certainly."

"Yes sir; right;" "Right."

"But I thought you promised me a moment ago," replied the teacher, "not

to do any thing, unless I commanded it. Did I ask for pencils?"

A pause.

"I do not blame these boys at all, in this case, still it is better to

adhere rigidly to the principle, of _exact obedience_, when numbers are

acting together. I thank them, therefore, for being so ready to assist a

companion, but they must put their pencils away, as they were taken out

without orders."

Now such a dialogue as this, if the teacher speaks in a good-humored,

though decided manner, would be universally well received, in any

school. Whenever strictness of discipline is unpopular, it is rendered

so, simply by the ill-humored and ill-judged means, by which it is

attempted to be introduced. But all children will love strict

discipline, if it is pleasantly, though firmly maintained. It is a

great, though very prevalent mistake, to imagine, that boys and girls

like a lax and inefficient government, and dislike the pressure of

steady control. What they dislike is, sour looks and irritating

language, and they therefore very naturally dislike every thing

introduced or sustained by their means. If, however, exactness and

precision in all the operations of a class and of the school, are

introduced and enforced, in the proper manner, i. e., by a firm, but

mild and good-humored authority, scholars will universally be pleased

with them. They like to see the uniform appearance,--the straight

line,--the simultaneous movement. They like to feel the operation of

system, and to realize, while they are at the school room, that they

form a community, governed by fixed and steady laws, firmly but

pleasantly administered. On the other hand, laxity of discipline, and

the disorder which will result from it, will only lead the pupils to

contemn their teacher, and to hate their school.

By introducing and maintaining such a discipline as I have described,

great facilities will be secured for examining the classes. For example,

to take a case different from the one before described; let us suppose

that a class have been performing a number of examples in Addition. They

come together to the recitation, and under one mode of managing

classes, the teacher is immediately beset, by a number of the pupils,

with excuses. One had no slate; another was absent when the lesson was

assigned; a third performed the work, but it got rubbed out; and a

fourth did not know what was to be done. The teacher stops to hear all

these, and to talk about them; fretted himself, and fretting the

delinquents by his impatient remarks. The rest of the class are waiting,

and having nothing good to do, the temptation is almost irresistible to

do something bad. One boy is drawing pictures on his slate, to make his

neighbors laugh; another is whispering, and two more are at play. The

disorder continues, while the teacher goes round examining slate after

slate, his whole attention being engrossed by each individual, as the

pupils come to him successively, while the rest are left to themselves,

interrupted only by an occasional harsh or even angry, but utterly

useless rebuke from him.

But under _another_ mode of managing classes and schools, a very

different result would be produced.

A boy approaches the teacher to render an excuse, the teacher replies,

addressing himself, however, to the whole class, "I shall give all an

opportunity to offer their excuses presently. No one must come till he

is called."

The class then regularly take their places in the recitation seats; the

prepared and unprepared together. The following commands are given and

obeyed, promptly. They are spoken pleasantly, but still in the tone of

command.

"The class may rise."

"All those, that are not fully prepared with this lesson, may sit."

A number sit, and others, doubtful whether they are prepared or not, or

thinking that there is something peculiar in their cases, which they

wish to state, raise their hands, or make any other signal which is

customary to indicate a wish to speak. Such a signal ought always to be

agreed upon, and understood in school.

The teacher shakes his head; saying "I will hear you presently. If

there is, on any account whatever, any doubt whether you are prepared,

you must sit."

"Those that are standing may read their answers, to No. 1. Unit figure?"

_Boys._ "Five."

_Teacher._ "Tens?"

_B._ "Six."

_T._ "Hundreds?"

_B._ "Seven."

While these numbers are thus reading, the teacher looks at the boys, and

can easily see whether any are not reading their own answers, but only

following the rest. If they have been trained to speak exactly together,

his ear will also at once detect any erroneous answer, which any one may

give. He takes down the figures given by the majority, on his own slate,

and reads them aloud.

"This is the answer obtained by the majority: it is, undoubtedly right.

Those, who have different answers may sit."

These directions, if understood and obeyed, would divide the class

evidently into two portions. Those standing, have their work done, and

done correctly, and those sitting, have some excuse or error to be

examined. A new lesson may now be assigned, and the first portion may be

dismissed; which, in a well regulated school, will be two-thirds of the

class. Their slates may be slightly examined, as they pass by the

teacher, on their way to their seats, to see that all is fair; but it

will be safe to take it for granted, that a result, in which a majority

agree, will be right. Truth is consistent with itself, but error, in

such a case, never is. This, the teacher can, at any time, show, by

comparing the answers that are wrong; they will always be found, not

only to differ from the correct result, but to contradict each other.

The teacher may now, if be pleases, after the majority of the class have

gone, hear the reasons of those who were unprepared, and look for the

errors of those whose work was incorrect; but it is better to spend as

little time as possible, in such a way. If a scholar is not prepared, it

is not of much consequence, whether it is because he forgot his book,

or mistook the lesson; or if it is ascertained that his answer is

incorrect, it is, ordinarily, a mere waste of time, to search for the

particular error.

"I have looked over my work, sir," says the boy, perhaps, "and I cannot

find where it is wrong." He means by it, that he does not believe that

it is wrong.

"It is no matter if you cannot," would be the proper reply, "since it

certainly is wrong; you have made a mistake in adding, somewhere, but it

is not worth while for me to spend two or three minutes apiece with all

of you, to ascertain where. Try to be careful next time."

The cases of those who are unprepared at a recitation, ought, by no

means, to be passed by, unnoticed, although it would be unwise to spend

much time in examining each, in detail.

"It is not of much consequence," the teacher might say, "whether you

have good excuses, or bad, so long as you are not prepared. In future

life, you will certainly be unsuccessful, if you fail, no matter for

what reason, to discharge the duties which devolve upon you. A

carpenter, for instance, would certainly lose his work, if he should not

perform it faithfully, and in season. Excuses, no matter how reasonable,

will do him little good. So in this school. I want good recitations, not

good excuses. I hope every one will be prepared to-morrow."

It is not probable, however, that every one would be prepared the next

day, in such a case; but, by acting steadily on these principles, the

number of delinquencies would be so much diminished, that the very few

which should be left, could easily be examined in detail, and the

remedies applied.

Simultaneous recitation, by which I mean the practice of addressing a

question to all the class, to be answered by all together, is a

practice, which has been for some years rapidly extending in our

schools, and, if adopted with proper limits and restrictions, is

attended with great advantage. The teacher must guard against some

dangers, however, which will be likely to attend it.

1. Some will answer very eagerly, instantly after the question is

completed. They wish to show their superior readiness. Let the teacher

mention this, expose, kindly, the motive which leads to it, and tell

them it is as irregular to answer before the rest, as after them.

2. Some will defer their answers, until they can catch those of their

comrades, for a guide. Let the teacher mention this fault, expose the

motive which leads to it, and tell them that, if they do not answer

independently, and at once, they had better not answer at all.

3. Some will not answer at all. The teacher can tell by looking around

the class who do not, for they cannot counterfeit the proper motion of

the lips, with promptness and decision, unless they know what the answer

is to be. He ought occasionally to say to such an one, "I perceive you

do not answer;" and ask him questions individually.

4. In some cases, there is danger of confusion in the answers, from the

fact that the question may be of such a nature, that the answer is long,

and may, by different individuals, be differently expressed. This evil

must be guarded against, by so shaping the question, as to admit of a

reply in a single word. In reading large numbers, for example, each

figure may be called for by itself, or they may be given one after

another, the pupils keeping exact time. When it is desirable to ask a

question to which the answer is necessarily long, it may be addressed to

an individual, or the whole class may write their replies, which may

then be read in succession.

In a great many cases where simultaneous answering is practised, after a

short time, the evils above specified are allowed to grow, until at last

some half dozen bright members of a class answer for all, the rest

dragging after them, echoing their replies, or ceasing to take any

interest in an exercise, which brings no personal and individual

responsibility upon them. To prevent this the teacher should exercise

double vigilance, at such a time. He should often address questions to

individuals alone, especially to those most likely to be inattentive and

careless, and guard against the ingress of every abuse, which might,

without close vigilance, appear.

With these cautions, the method here alluded to will be found to be of

very great advantage in many studies; for example, all the arithmetical

tables may be recited in this way; words may be spelled, answers to sums

given; columns of figures added, or numbers multiplied; and many

questions in History, Geography, and other miscellaneous studies,

answered, especially the general questions asked for the purpose of a

review.

But besides being useful as a mode of examination, this plan of

answering questions simultaneously, is a very important means of fixing

in the mind, any facts, which the teacher may communicate to his pupils.

If, for instance, he says some day to a class, that Vasco de Gama was

the discoverer of the passage round the Cape of Good Hope, and leaves it

here, in a few days, not one in twenty, will recollect the name. But let

him call upon them all to spell it, simultaneously, and then to

pronounce it distinctly, three or four times in concert, and the word

will be very strongly impressed upon the mind. The reflecting teacher

will find a thousand cases, in the instruction of his classes, and in

his general exercises, in the school, in which this principle will be of

great utility. It is universal in its application. What we _say_, we fix

by the very act of saying it, in the mind. Hence reading aloud, though a

slower, is a far more thorough method, than reading silently; and it is

better, in almost all cases, whether in the family, or in sabbath, or

common schools, when general instructions are given, to have the leading

points fixed in the mind, by questions, answered simultaneously.

But we are wandering a little from our subject; which is, in this part

of our chapter, the methods of _examining_ a class, not of giving or

fixing instructions.

Another mode of examining classes, which it is important to describe,

consists in requiring _written answers_ to the questions asked. The form

and manner, in which this plan may be adopted, is various. The class may

bring their slates to the recitation, and the teacher may propose

questions successively, the answers to which all the class may write,

numbering them carefully. After a dozen answers are written, the teacher

may call, at random, for them; or he may repeat a question, and ask

each pupil to read the answer he had written; or he may examine the

slates. Perhaps this method may be very successfully employed in

reviews, by dictating to the class, a list of questions, relating to the

ground they have gone over, for a week, and to which they are to prepare

answers, written out at length, and to be brought in at the next

exercise. This method may be made more formal still, by requiring a

class to write a full and regular abstract of all they have learned,

during a specified time. The practice of thus reducing to writing what

has been learned, will be attended with many advantages, so obvious that

they need not be described.

It will be perceived that three methods of examining classes have now

been named, and these will afford the teacher the means of introducing a

very great variety, in his mode of conducting his recitations, while he

still carries his class forward steadily in their prescribed course.

Each is attended with its peculiar advantages. The _single replies_,

coming from individuals specially addressed, are more rigid, and more to

be relied upon;--but they consume a great deal of time, and while one is

questioned, it requires much skill, to keep up interest in the rest. The

_simultaneous answers_ of a class awaken more general interest, but it

is difficult, without special care, to secure, by this means, a thorough

examination of all. The _written replies_, are more thorough, but they

require more time, and attention, and while they habituate the pupil to

express his thoughts in writing, they would, if exclusively adopted,

fail to accustom him to an equally important practice, that of the oral

communication of his thoughts. A constant variety, of which these three

methods should be the elements, is unquestionably the best mode. We not

only, by this means, secure in a great degree the advantages which each

is fitted to produce, but we gain, also, the additional advantage and

interest of variety.

By these, and perhaps by other means, it is the duty of the teacher to

satisfy himself that his pupils are really attentive to their duties. It

is not perhaps necessary, that every individual should be, every day,

minutely examined; this is, in many cases, impossible. But the system of

examination should be so framed, and so administered, as to be daily

felt by all, and to bring upon every one, a daily responsibility.

* * * * *

We come now to consider the second general head, which was to be

discussed in this chapter.

The study of books alone, is insufficient to give knowledge to the

young. In the first stage, learning to read, a book is of no use

whatever, without the voice of the living teacher. The child cannot take

a step alone. As the pupil, however, advances in his course, his

dependence upon his teacher for guidance and help, continually

diminishes, until, at last, the scholar sits in his solitary study, with

no companion but his books, and desiring, for a solution of every

difficulty, nothing but a larger library. In schools, however, the

pupils have made so little progress in this course, that they all need

more or less of this oral assistance. Difficulties must be explained;

questions must be answered; the path must be smoothed, and the way

pointed out, by a guide, who has travelled it before, or it will be

impossible for the pupil to go on. This is the part of our subject,

which we now approach.

The great principle which is to guide the teacher, in this part of his

duty, is this; _Assist your pupils, in such a way, as to lead them, as

soon as possible, to do without assistance_. This is fundamental. In a

short time they will be away from your reach; they will have no teacher

to consult; and unless you teach them how to understand books

themselves, they must necessarily stop suddenly in their course, the

moment you cease to help them forward. I shall proceed, therefore, to

consider the subject, in the following plan:--

1. Means of exciting interest in study.

2. The kind and degree of assistance to be rendered.

3. Miscellaneous suggestions.

1. Interesting the pupils in their studies. There are various principles

of human nature, which may be of great avail, in accomplishing this

object. Making intellectual effort, and acquiring knowledge, are always

pleasant to the human mind, unless some peculiar circumstances render

them otherwise. The teacher has, therefore, only to remove obstructions,

and sources of pain, and the employment of his pupils will be, of

itself, a pleasure.

"I am going to give you a new exercise to-day," said a teacher to a

class of boys, in Latin. "I am going to have you parse your whole

lesson, in writing. It will be difficult, but I think you may be able to

accomplish it."

The class looked surprised. They did not know what _parsing in writing_

could be.

"You may first, when you take your seats, and are ready to prepare the

lesson, write upon your slates, a list of the ten first nouns, arranging

them in a column. Do you understand so far?"

"Yes sir."

"Then rule lines for another column, just beyond this. In parsing nouns,

what is the first particular to be named?"

"What the noun is from."

"Yes; that is, its nominative. Now you may write, at the head of the

first column, the word _Nouns_, and at the head of the second, _Nom._,

for nominative. Then rule a line for the third column. What shall this

contain?" "The declension." "Yes; and the fourth?" "Gender." "The

fifth?" "Number."

In the same manner the other columns were designated; the sixth, was to

contain case; the seventh, the word, with which the noun was connected,

in construction; and the eighth, a reference to the rule.

"Now I wish you," continued the teacher, "to fill up such a table as

this, with _ten_ nouns. Do you understand how I mean?"

"Yes sir;" "No sir;" they answered, variously.

"All who do understand may take their seats; as I wish to give as little

explanation, as possible. The more you can depend upon yourselves, the

better."

Those who saw clearly what was to be done, left the class, and the

teacher continued his explanation to those who were left behind. He made

the plan perfectly clear to them, by taking a particular noun, and

running it through the table, showing what should be written opposite

to the word, in all the columns; and then dismissed them.

The class separated, as every class would, in such a case, with strong

interest in the work before them. It was not so difficult as to perplex

them, and yet it required attention and care. They were interested and

pleased;--pleased with the effort which it required them to make, and

they anticipated, with interest and pleasure, the time of coming again

to the class, to report and compare their work.

When the time for the class came, the teacher addressed them somewhat as

follows:

"Before looking at your slates, I am going to predict what the faults

are. I have not seen any of your work, but shall judge altogether from

my general knowledge of school-boys, and the difficulties I know they

meet with Do you think I shall succeed?"

The scholars made no reply, and an unskilful teacher would imagine, that

time spent in such remarks, would be wholly wasted. By no means. The

influence of it was to awaken universal interest in the approaching

examination of the slates. Every scholar would be intent, watching, with

eager interest, to see whether the imagined faults would be found upon

his work. The class was, by that single pleasant remark, put into the

best possible state, for receiving the criticisms of the teacher.

"The first fault, which I suppose will be found, is, that some are

unfinished."

The scholars looked surprised. They did not expect to have that called a

fault.

"How many plead guilty to it?"

A few raised their hands, and the teacher continued.

"I suppose that some will be found partly effaced. The slates were not

laid away carefully, or they were not clean, so that the writing is not

distinct. How many find this the case with their work?"

"I suppose that, in some cases, the lines will not be perpendicular, but

will slant, probably towards the left, like writing."

"I suppose also, that, in some cases, the writing will be careless, so

that I cannot easily read it. How many plead guilty to this?"

After mentioning such other faults as occurred to him, relating chiefly

to the form of the table, and the mere mechanical execution of the work,

he said:

"I think I shall not look at your slates to-day. You can all see, I have

no doubt, how you can considerably improve them, in mechanical

execution, in your next lesson; and I suppose you would a little prefer

that I should not see your first imperfect efforts. In fact, I should

rather not see them. At the next recitation, they probably will be much

better."

One important means by which the teacher may make his scholars careful

of their reputation, is to show them, thus, that he is careful of it

himself.

Now, in such a case as this, for it is, except in the principles which

it is intended to illustrate, imaginary, a very strong interest would be

awakened in the class, in the work assigned them. Intellectual effort,

in new and constantly varied modes, is in itself a pleasure, and this

pleasure the teacher may deepen and increase very easily, by a little

dexterous management, designed to awaken curiosity, and concentrate

attention. It ought, however, to be constantly borne in mind, that this

variety should be confined, to the modes of pursuing an object, which is

permanent, and constant, and steadily pursued. For instance, if a little

class are to be taught simple addition, after the process is once

explained, which may be done, perhaps, in two or three lessons, they

will need many days of patient practice, to render it familiar, to

impress it firmly in their recollection, and to enable them to work with

rapidity. Now this object must be steadily pursued. It would be very

unwise for the teacher to say to himself; my class are tired of

addition, I must carry them on to subtraction, or give them some other

study. It would be equally unwise, to keep them many days performing

example after example, in monotonous succession, each lesson a mere

repetition of the last. He must steadily pursue his object, of

familiarizing them fully with this elementary process, but he may give

variety and spirit to the work, by changing occasionally the modes. One

week he may dictate examples to them, and let them come together to

compare their results; one of the class being appointed to keep a list

of all who are correct, each day. At another time, each one may write an

example, which he may read aloud to all the others, to be performed and

brought in at the next time. Again, he may let them work on paper, with

pen and ink, that he may see how few mistakes they make, as mistakes in

ink, cannot be easily removed. He may excite interest by devising

ingenious examples, such as finding out how much all the numbers from

one to fifty will make, when added together, or the amount of the ages

of the whole class; or any such example, the result of which they might

feel a little interest in learning. Thus the object is steadily pursued,

though the means of pursuing it, are constantly changing. We have the

advantage of regular progress in the acquisition of knowledge truly

valuable, while this progress is made, with all the spirit and interest

which variety can give.

The necessity of making such efforts as this, however, to keep up the

interest of the class in their work, and to make it pleasant to them,

will depend altogether upon circumstances; or rather, it will vary much

with circumstances. A class of pupils somewhat advanced in their

studies, and understanding and feeling the value of knowledge, will need

very little of such effort as this; while young and giddy children, who

have been accustomed to dislike books and school, and every thing

connected with them, will need more. It ought, however, in all cases, to

be made a means, not an end;--the means to lead on a pupil to an

_interest in progress in knowledge itself_, which is, after all, the

great motive, which ought to be brought, as soon and as extensively as

possible, to operate in the school-room.

Another way to awaken interest in the studies of the school, is to bring

out as frequently, and as distinctly, as possible, the connexion between

these studies and the practical business of life. The events which are

occurring around you, and which interest the community in which you are

placed, may, by a little ingenuity, be connected, in a thousand ways,

with the studies of the school. If the practice, which has been already

repeatedly recommended, of appropriating a quarter of an hour, each day,

to a general exercise, should be adopted, it will afford great

facilities for doing this.

Suppose, for example, while the question between the General Government

and the State of South Carolina, was pending, and agitating the whole

country, almost every one looking, with anxious interest, every day, for

intelligence from the scene of the conflict, that the teacher of a

school, had brought up the subject, at such a general exercise as has

been mentioned. He describes, in a few words, the nature of the

question, and, in such a manner, as to awaken, throughout the school, a

strong interest in the result of the contest. He then says,

"I wish now to make you all more fully acquainted with this case, and

the best way of doing it, which occurs to me, is as follows:

"There are several studies in school, which throw light upon this

controversy; especially History, Geography, and Political Economy. Now,

I shall take the classes in these studies, for a day or two, out of

their regular course, and assign them lessons which relate to this

subject, and then hear them recite in the General Exercise, that you may

all hear. The first class in Geography may take therefore, for their

next lesson, the State of South Carolina; to-morrow they will recite in

the hearing of the whole school, when I shall make such additional

explanations, as will occur to me. The next day, I shall assign to the

class in History, a passage giving an account of the formation of this

government; and afterwards lessons will be recited from the Political

Class Book, explaining the mode of collecting money for the use of our

government, by duties, and the relative powers of the General and State

Governments. After hearing all these lessons recited, with my remarks in

addition, you will be the better able to understand the subject, and

then I shall bring in a newspaper now and then, and keep you acquainted

with the progress of the affair."

Now the propriety of taking up the particular subject, which I have

here introduced, by way of illustration, in such a way, would depend

altogether upon the character and standing of the school; the age and

mental maturity of the scholars, and their capacity to understand the

circumstances of such a case, and to appreciate those considerations

which give interest to it. The principle however, is applicable to all;

and one such experiment, dexterously carried through, will do more

towards giving boys and girls, clear and practical ideas of the reason

why they go to school, and of the importance of acquiring knowledge,

than the best lecture on such a subject, which ever was delivered.

There is no branch of study attended to in school, which may, by

judicious efforts, be made more effectual in accomplishing this

object,--leading the pupils to see the practical utility, and the value

of knowledge, than composition. If such subjects as are suitable themes

for _moral essays_, are assigned, the scholars will indeed dislike the

work of writing, and derive little benefit from it. The mass of pupils

in our schools, are not to be writers of moral essays or orations, and

they do not need to form that style of empty, florid, verbose

declamation, which the practice of writing composition in our schools,

as it is too frequently managed, tends to form. Assign practical

subjects,--subjects relating to the business of the school,--or the

events taking place around you. Is there a question before the

community, on the subject of the location of a new school-house? Assign

it to your pupils, as a question for discussion, and direct them not to

write empty declamation, but to obtain, from their parents, the real

arguments in the case, and to present them, distinctly and clearly, and

in simple language, to their companions. Was a building burnt by

lightning in the neighborhood? Let those who saw the scene, describe it;

their productions to be read by the teacher aloud; and let them see that

clear descriptions please, and that good legible writing can be read

fluently, and that correct spelling, and punctuation, and grammar, make

the article go smoothly and pleasantly, and enable it to produce its

full effect. Is a public building going forward in the neighborhood of

your school? You can make it a very fruitful source of subjects and

questions, to give interest and impulse to the studies of the

school-room. Your classes in geometry may measure,--your arithmeticians

may calculate, and make estimates,--your writers may describe its

progress, from week to week, and anticipate the scenes, which it will in

future years exhibit.

By such means, the practical bearings and relations of the studies of

the school-room, may he constantly kept in view; but I ought to guard

the teacher, while on this subject, most distinctly, against the danger

of making the school-room a scene of literary amusement, instead of

study. These means of awakening interest, and relieving the tedium of

the uninterrupted and monotonous study of text books, must not encroach

on the regular duties of the school. They must be brought forward with

judgment and moderation, and made subordinate and subservient to these

regular duties. Their design is, to give spirit, and interest, and a

feeling of practical utility, to what the pupils are doing, and if

resorted to, with these restrictions, and within these limits, they will

produce powerful, but safe results.

Another way to excite interest, and that of the right kind in school, is

not to _remove_ difficulties, but to teach the pupils how to _surmount_

them. A text book so contrived as to make study mere play, and to

dispense with thought and effort, is the worst text book that can be

made, and the surest to be, in the end, a dull one. The great source of

literary enjoyment, which is the successful exercise of intellectual

power, is, by such a mode of presenting a subject, cut off. Secure

therefore severe study. Let the pupil see that you are aiming to secure

it, and that the pleasure which you expect that they will receive, is

that of firmly and patiently encountering and overcoming difficulty; of

penetrating, by steady and persevering effort, into regions, from which

the idle and the inefficient are debarred; and that it is your province

to lead them forward, not to carry them. They will soon understand this,

and like it.

Never underrate the difficulties which your pupils will have to

encounter, or try to persuade them that what you assign is _easy_. Doing

easy things is generally dull work, and it is especially discouraging

and disheartening for a pupil to spend his strength in doing what is

really difficult for him, when his instructer, by calling his work easy,

gives him no credit, for what may have been severe and protracted labor.

If a thing is really hard for the pupil, his teacher ought to know it,

and admit it. The child then feels that he has some sympathy.

It is astonishing how great an influence may be exerted over a child, by

his simply knowing that his efforts are observed and appreciated. You

pass a boy in the street, wheeling a heavy load, in a barrow; now simply

stop to look at him, with a countenance which says, "that is a heavy

load; I should not think that boy could wheel it;" and how quick will

your look give fresh strength and vigor to his efforts. On the other

hand, when, in such a case, the boy is faltering under his load, try the

effect of telling him, "Why, that is not heavy; you can wheel it easily

enough; trundle it along." The poor boy will drop his load, disheartened

and discouraged, and sit down upon it, in despair. No, even if the work

you are assigning to a class is easy, do not tell them so, unless you

wish to destroy all their spirit and interest in doing it; and if you

wish to excite their spirit and interest, make your work difficult, and

let them see that you know it is so. Not so difficult as to tax their

powers too heavily, but enough so, to require a vigorous and persevering

effort. Let them distinctly understand too, that you know it is

difficult,--that you mean to make it so,--but that they have your

sympathy and encouragement, in the efforts which it calls them to make.

You may satisfy yourself that human nature is, in this respect, what I

have described, by some such experiment as the following:--Select two

classes, not very familiar with elementary arithmetic, and offer to each

of them the following example in Addition:--

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1

3 4 5 6 7 8 9 1 2

&c. &c.

The numbers may be continued, according to the obvious law regulating

the above, until each one of the nine digits has commenced the line. Or,

if you choose Multiplication, let the example be this:--

Multiply 123456789

by 123456789

---------

Now, when you bring the example to one of the classes, address the

pupils as follows:

"I have contrived for you a very difficult sum. It is the most difficult

one that can be made, with the number of figures contained in it, and I

do not think that any of you can do it, but you may try. I shall not be

surprised if every answer should contain mistakes."

To the other class, say as follows:--

"I have prepared an example for you, which I wish you to be very careful

to perform correctly. It is a little longer than those you have had

heretofore, but it is to be performed upon the same principles, and you

can all do it correctly, if you really try."

Now under such circumstances the first class will go to their seats with

ardor and alacrity; determined to show you that they can do work, even

if it is difficult. And if they succeed, they come to the class the next

day, with pride and pleasure. They have accomplished something, which

you admit it was not easy to accomplish. On the other hand, the second

class will go to their seats, with murmuring looks and words; and with a

hearty dislike of the task you have assigned them. They know that they

have something to do, which, however easy it may be to the teacher, is

really difficult for them, and they have to be perplexed and wearied

with the work, without having at last, even the little satisfaction of

knowing that the teacher appreciates the difficulties with which they

had to contend.

2. We now come to consider the subject of rendering assistance to the

pupil, which is one of the most important and delicate parts of a

teacher's work. The great difference, which exists among teachers, in

regard to the skill they possess in this part of their duty, is so

striking that it is very often noticed by others; and perhaps skill here

is of more avail, in deciding the question of success or failure, than

any thing besides. The first great principle, is, however, simple and

effectual.

(1.) _Divide and subdivide a difficult process, until your steps are so

short, that the pupil can easily take them._

Most teachers forget the difference between the pupil's capacity and

their own, and they pass rapidly forward, through a difficult train of

thought, in their own ordinary gait, their unfortunate followers vainly

trying to keep up with them. The case is precisely analagous to that of

the father, who walks with the step of a man, while his little son is by

his side, wearying and exhausting himself, with fruitless efforts to

reach his feet as far, and to move them as rapidly, as a full gown man.

But to show what I mean by subdividing a difficult process, so as to

make each step simple, I will take a case which may serve as an example.

I will suppose that the teacher of a common school, undertakes to show

his boys, who, we will suppose, are acquainted with nothing but

elementary arithmetic, how longitude is ascertained, by means of the

eclipses of Jupiter's satellites; not a very simple question, (as it

would, at first view, strike one,) but still one which, like all others,

may be, merely by the power of the subdivision alluded to, easily

explained. I will suppose that the subject has come up at a general

exercise,--perhaps the question was asked in writing, by one of the

older boys. I will present the explanation, chiefly in the form of

question and answer, that it may be seen, that the steps are so short,

that the boys may take them themselves.

"Which way," asks the teacher, "are the Rocky Mountains from us?"

"West," answer two or three of the boys.

In such cases as this, it is very desirable that the answers should be

general, so that throughout the school, there should be a spirited

interest in the questions and replies. This will never be the case, if a

small number of the boys only take part in the answers; and many

teachers complain, that, when they try this experiment, they can seldom

induce many of the pupils to take a part.

The reason ordinarily is, that they say that _any_ of the boys may

answer, instead of that _all_ of them may. The boys do not get the idea

that it is wished that an universal reply should come from all parts of

the room in which every one's voice should be heard. If the answers were

feeble, in the instance we are supposing, the teacher would perhaps say;

"I only heard one or two answers: do not more of you know where the

Rocky Mountains are? Will you all think, and answer together? Which way

are they from us?"

"West," answer a large number of boys.

"You do not answer fully enough yet; I do not think more than forty

answered, and there are about sixty here. I should like to have _every

one in the room_ answer, and all precisely together."

He then repeats the question, and obtains a full response. A similar

effort will always succeed.

"Now, does the sun, in going round the earth, pass over the Rocky

Mountains, or over us, first?"

To this question, the teacher hears a confused answer. Some do not

reply; some say, "Over the Rocky Mountains;" others, "Over us;" and

others still, "The sun does not move at all."

"It is true that the sun, strictly speaking, does not move; the earth

turns round, presenting the various countries, in succession, to the

sun, but the effect is precisely the same as it would be, if the sun

moved, and accordingly I use that language. Now, how long does it take

the sun to pass round the earth?"

"Twenty four hours."

"Does he go towards the west, or towards the east, from us?"

"Towards the west."

But it is not necessary to give the replies; the questions alone will be

sufficient. The reader will observe that they inevitably lead the pupil,

by short and simple steps, to a clear understanding of the point to be

explained.

"Will the sun go towards, or from, the Rocky Mountains, after leaving

us?"

"How long did you say it takes the sun to go round the globe, and come

to us again?"

"How long to go half round?" "Quarter round?"

"How long will it take him to go to the Rocky Mountains?"

No answer.

"You cannot tell. It would depend upon the distance. Suppose then the

Rocky Mountains were half round the globe, how long would it take the

sun to go to them?" "Suppose they were quarter round?"

"The whole distance is divided into portions called degrees; 360 in all.

How many will the sun pass, in going half round? In going quarter

round?"

"Ninety degrees then make one quarter of the circumference of the globe.

This you have already said will take six hours. In one hour then, how

many degrees will the sun pass over?"

Perhaps no answer. If so, the teacher will subdivide the question, on

the principle we are explaining, so as to make the steps such that the

pupils _can_ take them.

"How many degrees will the sun pass over in three hours?"

"Forty-five."

"How large a part of that, then, will he pass, in one hour?"

"One third of it."

"And what is one third of forty-five?"

The boys would readily answer fifteen, and the teacher would then dwell

for a moment, on the general truth, thus deduced, that the sun, in

passing round the earth, passes over fifteen degrees every hour.

"Suppose then it takes the sun one hour to go from us to the river

Mississippi, how many degrees west of us, would the river be?"

Having thus familiarized the pupils to the fact, that the motion of the

sun is a proper measure of the difference of longitude between two

places, the teacher must dismiss the subject, for a day, and when the

next opportunity of bringing it forward occurs, he would perhaps take

up the subject of the sun's motion as a measure of _time_.

"Is the sun ever exactly over our heads?"

"Is he ever exactly south of us?"

"When he is exactly south of us, or in other words, exactly opposite to

us, in his course round the earth, he is said to be in our meridian. For

the word meridian means a line drawn exactly north or south from any

place."

There is no limit to the simplicity which may be imparted, even to the

most difficult subjects, by subdividing the steps. This point for

instance, the meaning of meridian, may be the subject, if it were

necessary, of many questions, which would render it simple to the

youngest child. The teacher may point to the various articles in the

room, or buildings, or other objects without, and ask if they are or are

not in his meridian. But to proceed:

"When the sun is exactly opposite to us, in the south, at the highest

point to which he rises, what o'clock is it?"

"When the sun is exactly opposite to us, can he be opposite to the Rocky

Mountains?"

"Does he get opposite to the Rocky Mountains, before, or after, he is

opposite to us?"

"When he is opposite to the Rocky Mountains, what o'clock is it there?"

"Is it twelve o'clock here, then, before, or after it is twelve o'clock

there?"

"Suppose the river Mississippi is fifteen degrees from us, how long is

it twelve o'clock here, before it is twelve o'clock there?"

"When it is twelve o'clock here then, what time will it be there?"

Some will probably answer "one," and some "eleven." If so, the step is

too long, and may be subdivided thus:

"When it is noon here, is the sun going towards the Mississippi, or has

he passed it?"

"Then has noon gone by, at that river, or has it not yet come?"

"Then will it be one hour before, or one hour after noon?"

"Then will it be eleven, or one?"

Such minuteness and simplicity would, in ordinary cases, not be

necessary. I go into it here, merely to show, how, by simply subdividing

the steps, a subject ordinarily perplexing, may be made plain. The

reader will observe that in the above, there are no explanations by the

teacher, there are not even leading questions; that is, there are no

questions whose form suggests the answers desired. The pupil goes on

from step to step, simply because he has but one short step to take at a

time.

"Can it be noon, then," continues the teacher, "here and at a place

fifteen degrees west of us, at the same time?"

"Can it be noon here, and at a place ten miles west of us, at the same

time?"

It is unnecessary to continue the illustration, for it will be very

evident to every reader, that by going forward in this way, the whole

subject may be laid out before the pupils, so that they shall perfectly

understand it. They can, by a series of questions like the above, be led

to see by their own reasoning, that time, as denoted by the clock, must

differ in every two places, not upon the same meridian, and that the

difference must be exactly proportional to the difference of longitude.

So that a watch, which is right in one place, cannot, strictly speaking,

be right in any other place, east or west of the first: and that, if the

time of day, at two places, can be compared, either by taking a

chronometer from one to another, or by observing some celestial

phenomenon, like the eclipses of Jupiter's satellites, and ascertaining

precisely the time of their occurrence, according to the reckoning at

both; the distances east or west, by degrees, may be determined. The

reader will observe, too, that the method by which this explanation is

made, is strictly in accordance with the principle I am

illustrating,--which is by simply _dividing the process into short

steps_. There is no ingenious reasoning on the part of the teacher, no

happy illustrations; no apparatus, no diagrams. It is a pure process of

mathematical reasoning, made clear and easy by _simple analysis_.

In applying this method, however, the teacher should be very careful not

to subdivide too much. It is best that the pupils should walk as fast as

they can. The object of the teacher should be to smooth the path, not

much more than barely enough to enable the pupil to go on. He should not

endeavor to make it very easy.

(2.) Truths must not only be taught to the pupils, but they must be

_fixed_, and _made familiar_. This is a point which seems to be very

generally overlooked.

"Can you say the Multiplication Table?" said a teacher, to a boy, who

was standing before him, in his class.

"Yes sir."

"Well, I should like to have you say the line beginning nine times one."

The boy repeated it slowly, but correctly.

"Now I should like to have you try again, and I will, at the same time,

say another line, to see if I can put you out."

The boy looked surprised. The idea of his teacher's trying to perplex

and embarrass him, was entirely new.

"You must not be afraid," said the teacher; "you will undoubtedly not

succeed in getting through, but you will not be to blame for the

failure. I only try it, as a sort of intellectual experiment."

The boy accordingly began again, but was soon completely confused by the

teacher's accompaniment; he stopped in the middle of his line saying,

"I could say it, only you put me out."

"Well, now try to say the Alphabet, and let me see if I can put you out

there."

As might have been expected the teacher failed. The boy went regularly

onward to the end.

"You see now," said the teacher to the class which had witnessed the

experiment, "that this boy knows his Alphabet, in a different sense,

from that in which he knows his Multiplication table. In the latter, his

knowledge is only imperfectly his own; he can make use of it only under

favorable circumstances. In the former it is entirely his own;

circumstances have no control over him."

A child has a lesson in Latin Grammar to recite. She hesitates and

stammers, miscalls the cases, and then corrects herself, and if she gets

through at last, she considers herself as having recited well; and very

many teachers would consider it well too. If she hesitates a little

longer than usual, in trying to summon to her recollection a particular

word, she says, perhaps, "Don't tell me," and if she happens at last to

guess right, she takes her book with a countenance beaming with

satisfaction.

"Suppose you had the care of an infant school," might the instructer say

to such a scholar; "and were endeavoring to teach a little child to

count, and she should recite her lesson to you in this way; 'One, two,

four, no, three;--one, two, three,-- -- stop, don't tell me,--five--no

four--four--, five,-- -- -- I shall think in a minute,--six--is that

right? five, six, &c.' Should you call that reciting well?"

Nothing is more common than for pupils to say, when they fail of

reciting their lesson, that they could say it at their seats, but that

they cannot now say it, before the class. When such a thing is said for

the first time, it should not be severely reproved, because nine

children in ten honestly think, that if the lesson was learned so that

it could be recited any where, their duty is discharged. But it should

be kindly, though distinctly explained to them, that, in the business of

life, they must have their knowledge so much at command, that they can

use it, at all times, and in all circumstances, or it will do them

little good.

One of the most common causes of difficulty in pursuing mathematical

studies, or studies of any kind, where the succeeding lessons depend

upon those which precede, is the fact that the pupil, though he may

understand what precedes, is not _familiar_ with it. This is very

strikingly the case with Geometry. The class study the definitions, and

the teacher supposes they fully understand them; in fact, they do

_understand_ them, but the name and the thing are so feebly connected in

their minds, that a direct effort, and a short pause, are necessary to

recall the idea, when they hear or see the word. When they come on

therefore to the demonstrations, which, in themselves, would be

difficult enough, they have double duty to perform. The words used do

not readily suggest the idea, and the connexion of the ideas requires

careful study. Under this double burden, many a young geometrician sinks

discouraged.

A class should go on slowly, and dwell on details, so long as to fix

firmly, and make perfectly familiar, whatever they undertake to learn.

In this manner, the knowledge they acquire will become their own. It

will be incorporated, as it were, into their very minds, and they cannot

afterwards be deprived of it.

The exercises which have for their object this rendering familiar what

has been learned, may be so varied as to interest the pupil very much,

instead of being tiresome, as it might, at first be supposed.

Suppose, for instance, a teacher has explained to a large class in

grammar, the difference between an adjective and an adverb: if he leave

it here, in a fortnight, one half would have forgotten the distinction,

but by dwelling upon it, a few lessons, he may fix it for ever. The

first lesson might be to write twenty short sentences containing only

adjectives. The second to write twenty, containing only adverbs. The

third, to write sentences in two forms, one containing the adjective,

and the other expressing the same idea by means of the adverb, arranging

them in two columns, thus,

He writes well. | His writing is good.

Again, they may make out a list of adjectives, with the adverbs derived

from each, in another column. Then they may classify adverbs on the

principle of their meaning, or according to their termination. The

exercise may be infinitely varied, and yet the object of the whole may

be, to make _perfectly familiar_, and to fix for ever in the mind, the

distinction explained.

These two points seem to me to be fundamental, so far as assisting

pupils through the difficulties which lie in their way, is concerned.

Diminish the difficulties as far as is necessary, by merely shortening

and simplifying the steps, and make thorough work as you go on. These

principles carried steadily into practice, will be effectual, in

leading any mind through any difficulties which may occur. And though

they cannot perhaps be fully applied to every mind, in a large school,

yet they can be so far acted upon, in reference to the whole mass, as to

accomplish the object for a very large majority.

3. _General cautions._ A few miscellaneous suggestions, which we shall

include under this head, will conclude this chapter.

(1.) Never do any thing _for_ a scholar, but teach him to do it for

himself. How many cases occur, in the schools of our country, where the

boy brings his slate to the teacher, saying he cannot do a certain sum.

The teacher takes the slate and pencil,--performs the work in

silence,--brings the result,--and returns the slate to the hands of his

pupil, who walks off to his seat, and goes to work on the next example;

perfectly satisfied with the manner in which he is passing on. A man who

has not done this a hundred times himself, will hardly believe it

possible that such a practice can prevail. It is so evidently a waste of

time, both for master and scholar.

(2.) Never get out of patience with dulness. Perhaps I ought to say,

never get out of patience with any thing. That would perhaps be the

wisest rule. But above all things, remember that dulness and stupidity,

and you will certainly find them in every school, are the very last

things to get out of patience with. If the Creator has so formed the

mind of a boy, that he must go through life slowly and with difficulty,

impeded by obstructions which others do not feel, and depressed by

discouragements which others never know, his lot is surely hard enough,

without having you to add to it the trials and suffering, which sarcasm

and reproach from you, can heap upon him. Look over your school-room,

therefore, and wherever you find one, whom you perceive the Creator to

have endued with less intellectual power than others, fix your eye upon

him with an expression of kindness and sympathy. Such a boy will have

suffering enough from the selfish tyranny of his companions; he ought to

find in you, a protector and friend. One of the greatest pleasures which

a teacher's life affords, is, the interest of seeking out such an one,

bowed down with burdens of depression and discouragement,--unaccustomed

to sympathy and kindness, and expecting nothing for the future, but a

weary continuation of the cheerless toils, which have imbittered the

past;--and the pleasure of taking off the burden, of surprising the

timid disheartened sufferer by kind words and cheering looks, and of

seeing, in his countenance, the expression of ease and even of

happiness, gradually returning.

(3.)The teacher should be interested in _all_ his scholars, and aim

equally to secure the progress of all. Let there be no neglected ones in

the school room. We should always remember that, however unpleasant in

countenance and manners that bashful boy, in the corner, may be, or

however repulsive in appearance, or unhappy in disposition, that girl,

seeming to be interested in nobody, and nobody appearing interested in

her, they still have, each of them, a mother, who loves her own child,

and takes a deep and constant interest in its history. Those mothers

have a right too, that their children should receive their full share of

attention, in a school which has been established for the common and

equal benefit of all.

(4.) Do not hope or attempt to make all your pupils alike. Providence

has determined that human minds should differ from each other, for the

very purpose of giving variety and interest to this busy scene of life.

Now if it were possible for a teacher, so to plan his operations, as to

send his pupils forth upon the community, formed on the same model, as

if they were made by machinery, he would do so much, towards spoiling

one of the wisest of the plans which the Almighty has formed, for making

this world a happy scene. Let it be the teacher's aim to cooperate with,

not vainly to attempt to thwart the designs of Providence. We should

bring out those powers with which the Creator has endued the minds

placed under our control. We must open our garden to such influences as

shall bring forward all the plants, each, in a way corresponding to its

own nature. It is impossible, if it were wise, and it would be foolish,

if it were possible, to stimulate, by artificial means, the rose, in

hope of its reaching the size and magnitude of the apple-tree, or to

try to cultivate the fig and the orange, where wheat only will grow. No;

it should be the teacher's main design, to shelter his pupils from every

deleterious influence, and to bring every thing to bear upon the

community of minds before him, which will encourage, in each one, the

developement of its own native powers. For the rest, he must remember

that his province is to cultivate, not to create.

Error on this point, is very common. Many teachers, even among those who

have taken high rank, through the success with which they have labored

in this field, have wasted much time, in attempting to do what can never

be done; to form the character of those brought under their influence,

after a certain uniform model, which they have conceived as the standard

of excellence. Their pupils must write just such a hand, they must

compose in just such a style, they must be similar in sentiment and

feeling, and their manners must be formed according to a fixed and

uniform model; and when, in such a case, a pupil comes under their

charge whom Providence has designed to be entirely different from the

beau ideal adopted as the standard, more time and pains, and anxious

solicitude is wasted in vain attempts to produce the desired conformity,

than half the school require beside.

(5.) Do not allow the faults or obliquities of character, or the

intellectual or moral wants, of any individual, of your pupils, to

engross a disproportionate share of your time. I have already said, that

those who are peculiarly in need of sympathy or help, should receive the

special attention they seem to require; what I mean to say now, is, do

not carry this to an extreme. When a parent sends you a pupil, who, in

consequence of neglect or mismanagement, at home, has become wild and

ungovernable, and full of all sorts of wickedness, he has no right to

expect, that you shall turn your attention away from the wide field,

which, in your whole school-room, lies before you, to spend your time,

and exhaust your spirits and strength, in endeavoring to repair the

injuries which his own neglect has occasioned. When you open a school,

you do not engage, either openly or tacitly, to make every pupil who

may be sent to you, a learned or a virtuous man. You do engage to give

them all faithful instruction, and to bestow upon each such a degree of

attention, as is consistent with the claims of the rest. But it is both

unwise and unjust, to neglect the many trees in your nursery, which by

ordinary attention, may be made to grow straight and tall, and to bear

good fruit, that you may waste your labor upon a crooked stick, from

which all your toil can secure very little beauty or fruitfulness.

Let no one now understand me to say, that such cases are to be

neglected. I admit the propriety, and in fact, have urged the duty, of

paying to them a little more than their due share of attention. What I

now condemn is the practice, of which all teachers are in danger, of

devoting such a disproportionate and unreasonable degree of attention to

them, as to encroach upon their duties to others. The school, the whole

school, is your field, the elevation _of the mass_, in knowledge and

virtue, and no individual instance, either of dulness or precocity,

should draw you away from its steady pursuit.

(6.) The teacher should guard against unnecessarily imbibing those

faulty mental habits, to which his station and employment expose him.

Accustomed to command, and to hold intercourse with minds which are

immature and feeble, compared with our own, we gradually acquire habits,

that the rough collisions and the friction of active life, prevent from

gathering around other men. Narrowminded prejudices and prepossessions

are imbibed, through the facility, with which, in our own little

community, we adopt and maintain opinions. A too strong confidence in

our own views on every subject, almost inevitably comes, from never

hearing our opinions contradicted or called in question; and we express

those opinions in a tone of authority and even sometimes of arrogance,

which we acquire in the school-room, for there, when we speak, nobody

can reply.

These peculiarities show themselves first, and in fact, most commonly,

in the school-room; and the opinions thus formed, very often relate to

the studies and management of the school. One has a peculiar mode of

teaching spelling, which is successful almost entirely through the

magic influence of his interest in it, and he thinks no other mode of

teaching this branch, is even tolerable. Another must have all his

pupils write on the angular system, or the anti-angular system, and he

enters with all the zeal into a controversy on the subject, as if the

destiny of the whole rising generation, depended upon its decision. Tell

him that all that is of any consequence in any handwriting, is, that it

should be legible, rapid, and uniform, and that, for the rest, it would

be better that every human being should write a different hand, and he

looks upon you with astonishment, wondering that you cannot see the

vital importance of the question, whether the vertex of an o should be

pointed or round. So in every thing. He has _his way_ in every minute

particular,--a way from which he cannot deviate, and to which he wishes

every one else to conform.

This set, formal mannerism is entirely inconsistent with that

commanding, intellectual influence, which the teacher should exert in

the administration of his school. He should work, with what an artist

calls boldness and freedom of touch. Activity and enterprise of mind

should characterize all his measures, if he wishes to make bold,

original, and efficient men.

(7.) Assume no false appearances, in your school, either as to knowledge

or character. Perhaps it may justly be said to be the common practice of

teachers in this country, to affect dignity of deportment in the

presence of their pupils, which, in other cases, is laid aside; and to

pretend to superiority in knowledge, and an infallibility of judgment,

which no sensible man would claim before other sensible men, but which

an absurd fashion seems to require of the teacher. It can however

scarcely be said to be a fashion, for the temptation is almost

exclusively confined to the young and the ignorant, who think they must

make up by appearance, what they want in reality. Very few of the older,

and more experienced, and successful instructers in our country, fall

into it at all. But some young beginner, whose knowledge is very

limited, and who, in manner and habits, has only just ceased to be a

boy, walks into his school-room with a countenance of forced gravity,

and with a dignified and solemn step, which is ludicrous even to

himself. I describe accurately, for I describe from recollection. This

unnatural, and forced, and ludicrous dignity, cleaves to him like

disease, through the whole period of his duty. In the presence of his

scholars, he is always under restraint,--assuming a stiff, and formal

dignity, which is as ridiculous as it is unnatural. He is also obliged

to resort to arts which are certainly not very honorable, to conceal his

ignorance.

A scholar, for example, brings him a sum in arithmetic, which he does

not know how to perform. This may be the case with a most excellent

teacher,--and one well qualified for his business. In order to be

successful as a teacher, it is not necessary to understand every thing.

Instead, however, of saying frankly, I do not understand that example, I

will look at it and examine it, he looks at it embarrassed and

perplexed, not knowing how he shall escape the exposure of his

ignorance. His first thought is, to give some general directions to the

pupil, and send him to his seat to make a new experiment, hoping that in

some way or other, he scarcely knows how, he will get through; and, at

any rate, if he does not, the teacher at least gains time by

manoeuvre, and is glad to postpone his trouble, though he knows it

must soon return.

All efforts to conceal ignorance, and all affectation of knowledge not

possessed, are as unwise as they are dishonest. If a scholar asks a

question which you cannot answer, or brings you a difficulty which you

cannot solve, say frankly, "I do not know." It is the only way to avoid

continual anxiety and irritation, and the surest means of securing real

respect. Let the scholars understand that the superiority of the teacher

does not consist in his infallibility, or in his universal acquisitions,

but in a well balanced mind, where the boundary between knowledge and

ignorance is distinctly marked; in a strong desire to go forward, in

mental improvement; and in fixed principles of action, and systematic

habits. You may even take up in school, a study entirely new to you, and

have it understood at the outset, that you know no more of it than the

class commencing, but that you can be their guide, on account of the

superior maturity and discipline of your powers, and the comparative

ease with which you can meet and overcome difficulties. This is the

understanding which ought always to exist between master and scholars.

The fact that the teacher does not know every thing, cannot long be

concealed, if he tries to conceal it; and in this, as in every other

case, HONESTY IS THE BEST POLICY.