We might deduce from this that manhood i_Modern educators and their ideals

for discovery and invention, and a man’s development should be in the

progressive specialization of his vocation. But Hegel, whose eye is

always directed to “the universal,” stops short at its attainment. In

the engagement in and the mastery of a vocation man completes himself,

fully realizes his personality. “He is then at one with himself, with

his environment, with his sphere. He is universal, a whole” (3: p.

153). “The antithesis between the subject and its object” being done

away with, “the interest in the latter is lost.” “Thus a man enters

old age not only by the running down of the vitality of his physical

organism, but also by the crystallizing of the spiritual life into

habits” (3: p. 127). But there is one virtue left to old age, that

is “to point out the way to the young” by the lessons of his past

experience, in the memory of which he now lives.

The Hegelian pedagogy may be called the orthodoxy of education. Like

his philosophy, the central conception of which is expressed in the

famous dictum, “all that is rational is actual; all that is actual is

rational,” it is the strongest defense of existing institutions; it

justifies all the traditional principles and methods of education and

gives them a rational ground. As conservatism is the self-preservation

of every social institution, Hegelianism enjoyed the natural result

of being welcomed by officialdom as the safest pedagogy to adopt. We

need in society both the visionary idealist and the cold calculator,

youthful enthusiasm and matured judgment. Although we must not forget

that there often lies a great danger in the very soundness and

all-roundness of opinions or precocious senility--a greater danger than

the youthful one-sidedness--Hegel will remain as he was, a beneficial

counteracting influence against the rashness and heat of a youthful

age, a voice calling halt to look back to the already attained values,

in the blind pursuit of the anticipated unknown quantity.

REFERENCES

1. +Bryant, William Mackendree.+ Hegel’s Educational Ideas.

Werner School Book Co., New York, 1896. 214 pages.

2. +Entner, Paul.+ Hegel’s Ansichten über Erziehung im

Zusammenhange mit seiner Philosophie dargestellt. XV. Jahres-Bericht

der 1. städtlichen Realschule. Hille, Dresden, 1905. 77 pages.

3. +Luqueer, Frederic Ludlow.+ Hegel as Educator. (Columbia

University Dissertation). Macmillan Co., New York, 1896. 185 pages.

4. +Raumer, Karl von.+ Geschichte der Pädagogik vom

Wiederaufblühen klassischer Studien bis auf unsere Zeit. 5 vols.

Bertelsmann, Gütersloh, 1882-1897.

5. +Rein, Georg Wilhelm+, editor. Encyklopädisches Handbuch der

Pädagogik. 8 vols. Beyer, Langensalza, 1895-1906. Vol. III.

6. +Rosenkranz, Johann Karl Friedrich.+ Philosophy of

Education. Translated by A. C. Brackett. Second edition, revised and

enlarged. Appleton, New York, 1903. 292 pages.

7. +Ziegler, Theobald.+ Geschichte der Pädagogik mit besonderer

Rücksicht auf das höhere Unterrichtswesen. Beck, München, 1895. 361

pages.

CHAPTER XII.

W. T. HARRIS AND G. STANLEY HALL

_William Torrey Harris_

(1835- )

In a country like America, where people have flocked from all corners

of the world, each with his own ideas, beliefs, and ambitions, it is

natural that the main concern of the leaders hitherto should have

been the unity and solidarity of the social structure. How to produce

self-governing yet law-abiding citizens in a free republic that has had

no choice of the materials, seems to have been _the_ educational

problem from the legislative standpoint. There has probably been more

necessity for counteracting new “isms” and reforms than encouraging

them. Just here the Hegelian pedagogy has an application, and it has,

in fact, well-nigh penetrated, through Dr. Harris, into the great

machinery of the public school.

That Dr. Harris is a most faithful disciple of Hegel no one, including

himself, will deny. If we are justified in calling Spencer the English

interpreter of Rousseauean pedagogy, we may call Dr. Harris the

American apostle of Hegelian pedagogy.

With the Hegelian philosophy of history on his banner Dr. Harris

stands, amidst all skeptics and reactionaries against the present

civilization, as its bold and even conventional advocate. This

civilization is the highest actual manifestation of the world-spirit or

Logos; so every individual must be educated for and through it. Social

institutions in which civilization is incorporated are to be the chief

agents of education. These social institutions are family, school,

church, and state. But the education of the family is essentially

physical and very limited; and, on the other hand, the educational

influence of the state is exerted mainly through the school. So the

school and the church are the main educational agencies, the former

ministering to the secular and the latter to the religious needs.

According to Dr. Harris, the function of the school is “to correlate

the child with the civilization into which he is born.” “The branches

to be studied, and the extent to which they are studied, will be

determined mainly by the demands of one’s civilization. These will

prescribe what is most useful to make the individual acquainted

with physical nature and with human nature so as to fit him as an

individual to perform his duties in the several institutions--family,

civil society, the state, and the church” (1: pp. 232-233). These

also will determine what interests in the child should be cultivated

and what interests be checked. To make the child’s nature or its own

spontaneous interest our guidance and standard is the suicide of

education. For “man reveals his true nature not as a child, but as

a mature man and woman in the process of making world history. In

the world history human nature is revealed in its height and depth”

(14: p. 492). Naturally it follows that psychology should hold only

a subordinate place for the art or science of education, and “no

philosophy of education is fundamental until it is based on sociology.”

Prescription is thus the great word in Dr. Harris’s pedagogy, which he

never tires of repeating. “The problem of prescription,” he says, “is

the profoundest and most important one in education, and without its

solution we continually drift in the eddies of fruitless experiments

and waste the energies and possibilities of the rising generation” (5:

p. 131).

Of course Dr. Harris would not, in the face of the modern consciousness

of individual freedom, advocate the tyranny of autocratic prescription.

Here he met an antimony of civilization and consequently of education.

“When we reflect that prescription comes in from the side of

realized reason, and consists in regulations found to be rational

by the experience of mankind and embodied in the institutions of

civilization, we must be convinced of the utter hopelessness of

eliminating this element from life.... On the other hand, that

self-activity or spontaneity, freedom of thought, the realization of

directive intelligence in each and every individual--that this shall

prevail more and more, is our deepest national conviction” (5: pp.

141-142).

The antinomy is solved by Dr. Harris in the Hegelian way. At first

these two “are opposed, and mutually limit each other; where one begins

the other ends.” However, “a mandate prescribed loses its external,

mechanical side just as soon as its necessary ground is seen and

comprehended” (5: p. 142).

To speak of the child’s instincts and natural powers as if they were

divine and all-sufficient in themselves is allowed only in poetry. “The

child begins life a savage, ignorant of civilization.” His impulses and

caprices have to be subjected to the reason of the matured spirit, and

his mind, empty of experience, has to be filled with the wisdom of the

race. “He must be taught everything: how to take care of his person,

how to behave in the presence of others, how to do his work in the

world and earn an honest living, how to observe and how to think. He

has to learn the view of the world which civilization has attained.”

The good mother is she who is “always alert to see to it that her child

learns to inhibit--learns self-control or self-restraint.” “Her chief

work is inhibiting this or that, and educating the child into the

practice of inhibiting constantly.” For “out of one thousand things he

may do, nine hundred and ninety-nine are improper to be done, and he

must refuse to adopt them. Passing by all these, he must do only the

one thing proper” (6: pp. 2-3).

The child who, under this maternal discipline, has acquired “a bundle

of personal habits and the use of language to communicate ideas and

receive them,” is taken next to the hand of the school-teacher. His

work is the continuation of that of the mother, and still preëminently

is in “the domain of prescription.” “The special work of the school

in the great process of education is that of giving the youth letters

and civil manners” (6: p. 4). By “civil manners,” “the habits of

acting according to the broad forms and conventionalities of rational

existence” are meant. These habits are not born with the child, they

are no innate inheritance that he brings with him into the world, but

have to be acquired by him. So the educator is not to minister to

the nature of the child, but to repress it. With all his vigilance

and self-control the teacher “applies a firm, steady pressure to the

material under his charge and molds it into form” (5: p. 128).

Family life can teach many good habits to the child, but it cannot

initiate him into social life quite as well as the school can. In order

to become a social man he must be educated out of the “clan feeling”

into civil relation. The school furnishes the best training for this:

for its order “presupposes independent interests combined with a common

interest,” and “the school pupil must learn how to behave towards

independent equals and towards those established in authority over him,

not by nature, like his father and mother, but by civic ordinances

appointed by his teachers” (6: p. 4). Then the implicit observance

of order, without which no function of school can be performed,

inculcates such virtues as regularity, punctuality, and silence, the

last mentioned of which Dr. Harris thinks to be the basis for the

culture of internality or reflection--the soil in which thought grows.

Moreover, the systematic work required in the school cultivates many

valuable virtues. He says: “Is there any better training yet devised

to educate youth into industry and its concomitants of sincerity,

earnestness, simplicity, perseverance, patience, faithfulness, and

reliability, than the school method of requiring work in definite

amounts and at definite times and of an approved quality?” (7: pp.

36-37). These mechanical or semimechanical duties which school

life imposes upon the pupils “constitute an elementary training in

morals without which it is exceedingly difficult to build up any

superstructure of moral character whatever,” and “are just what is

required to adapt the man to combine with his fellow man” (6: p.

5). Moral education, therefore, must begin with these and “develop

gradually out of this stage toward that of individual responsibility.”

In regard to the intellectual side of education, too, Dr. Harris

gives his defense to its traditional form. In his view, learning

proper is nothing else but the learning of books. The printed page is

“an instrumentality of intercommunication,” the storehouse of race

experience, the immortalized form of civilization. Thus training

in letters naturally should form the center of instruction in the

elementary school. Reading, writing, arithmetic, geography, history,

and grammar are the first studies of the school, which have the

sanction of tradition and have stood the test of time. Natural science,

vocal music, drawing, gymnastics, and the like may be introduced

only as subordinate subjects. As to the disciplinary value of manual

training Dr. Harris is skeptical. Its possible use he recognizes only

as a preparation for productive industry. However, for this purpose he

does not see the wisdom or need of teaching it in the school. For, “if

youth can be taught to bring their powers to bear on such subjects as

arithmetic, grammar, history, and literature, they certainly can with

ease give their mind to any form of manual training or the work of

external observation, because the greater includes the less, and the

studies of pure science are far more difficult to carry on than studies

in applied science” (6: p. 16). Thus he disposes of the question

of pure “cultural” training _versus_ “practical” training by

saying: “Cultivate the humanities first, and afterwards the industrial

faculties” (6: p. 20). Dr. Harris does not see the inherent worth of

elementary education nor glorify its function, as Pestalozzi or Froebel

did. For him it is confessedly a “defective sort of education.” Not

only the knowledge it conveys is superficial and scanty, but the method

of instruction and training is “necessarily crude and inadequate.” To

speak of the spontaneous learning of the child is nonsense. In the

language of Dr. Harris, everything must be “served up” to him, and

this in a “fragmentary manner.” This, however, is “not an objectionable

feature”; “or if it is to be regarded as an evil, it is at least

a necessary evil” (5: pp. 144-145). It is in the second stage of

intellectual culture that larger facts are given in a systematic form

and mutual correlation; that the pupil’s own observation, reflection,

and “organic thinking” are encouraged and required. In a still higher

stage--i. e., in the university--original investigation and independent

thinking will have become its characteristic features. Dr. Harris fears

that these higher forms of education, which he terms “the system of

education by insight,” would foster an excessive conceit of self unless

it is built on the safe foundations of what he calls “the education

of authority,” or “the education by means of memory.” “There is this

danger,” he thinks, “in the system of education by insight, if begun

too early, that the individual tends to become so self-conceited with

what he considers knowledge gotten by his own personal thought and

research, that he drifts toward empty agnosticism with the casting

overboard of all authority” (4: p. 271).

Dr. Harris rests his defense of conservatism on the ground of national

psychology, saying that the pedagogy of a people is to be based on the

knowledge of their special aptitudes and “the consequent necessity of

inhibiting excesses.” According to him, the pedagogy emphasizing the

pupil’s self-activity is for the quiet, obedient, and knowledge-loving

Germans, and not for those vigorous nationalities which “love

adventure and the exercise of the will power far more than they love

science.” American children need rather the curbing and directing

of self-activity, of which they have enough without encouragement.

Consequently, discipline and drill, more than instruction, forms the

essential feature of their education. Recitation and the text-book

method is more fit for them than the oral method; because the

Anglo-Saxon teacher is to devote most of his time and energy to the

government and discipline of his class, and, besides, recitation

and the text-book method have many advantages peculiar to them. The

advantages of the text-book method are enumerated as follows:

“It has the advantage of making one independent of his teacher; you

can take your book wherever you please. You cannot do that with the

great lecturer, neither can you question him as you can the book, nor

can you select the time for hearing the great teacher talk as you

can for reading the book. And it is true that nearly all the great

teachers have embodied their ideas in books. The greatest danger of

text-book education is verbatim, parrot-like recitation; but even here

from the poorest text-book a great deal of knowledge can be gleaned.

Then there is the alertness which in any large class will necessarily

be engendered by an intelligent understanding and criticism of the

results arrived at by different pupils in discussing a certain piece

of work given in his own words. And then there is the advantage to be

found in the fact that with the text-book the child can be busy by

itself” (4. p. 272).

As to an estimate of Dr. Harris’s pedagogy little can be said beside

what has been said in respect to that of Hegel; only Dr. Harris goes

further than his master in outspoken advocacy of conservatism and

conventionalism. As a successful administrator he did a great deal for

the educational advancement of this country. His pedagogy also has

been an influential and acceptable one. But it seems to me that the

America for which his pedagogy was formulated is fast passing. For the

America of to-day, mere internal unity and solidarity is no longer the

chief object of national aspiration. She who now is striving for world

supremacy in every direction, with reasonable hope and confidence,

needs, and in fact already has, a new pedagogy.

_Granville Stanley Hall_

(1846- )

The new pedagogy which is gaining an increasing predominance is yet

a movement rather than a system. Although it is now entering its

productive and constructive stage, the light which it has hitherto

thrown upon educational work has been largely in the way of prophecy,

insight, and suggestions rather than a well-ordered philosophy, with

rules and methods. From Comenius down every great renovation in our

educational ideas and methods has been either caused or effected by

an ever fuller grasp of the nature of childhood and youth, to serve

which is the task of education. With Comenius and other pedagogical

writers who followed him, however, the study was individual, and

knowledge remained at best intuition. Limited observations were too

often made the basis of sweeping and one-sided generalizations. The

systematizations attempted were mainly in the direction of deductive

doctrination, but not of inductive synthesis of facts. These facts

cannot be gathered and established from any individual experiences,

however true and penetrating they may be, but only from the universal

experience and experiments of the race, past and present. For the

inductive synthesis of all the facts concerning the nature of childhood

and youth, which can possibly be gathered and established from all

sources, we are indebted to the so-called child-study movement. It

calls to its aid animal psychology, anthropology, and medical science

as well as all the branches of human psychology and physiology. It

not only avails itself of the anthology of folklore, myths, nursery

stories, and even superstitions, but also of the experience and

observation of individuals, great and small. The uniqueness of the

movement consists not only “in the new direction and focalization

of many scientific departments and methods upon one object, some of

which have never before had even this bond of union,” but also in

the intimate contact, understanding, and mutual helpfulness into

which it has brought experts and laymen, academic investigators, and

practical workers. As the originator and the foremost leader of this

movement stands Dr. Hall. In him America has first produced a pedagogic

writer whose originality is peculiarly her own, and whose influence

has extended far beyond the borders of the land. The new pedagogic

movement which Dr. Hall represents has a philosophic basis in “genetic

psychology,” which sees the essence of _psyche_ in its process of

becoming. It has been subject to the course of evolution as organic

matters have been. The human soul is merely a sort of “a species or a

stage of evolution” in the soul kingdom; it is “one of the many types

in the world,” and “at best it may be a transition from a lower to

a higher race to be evolved later” (1: vol. ii, p. 62). So our soul

life extends far back to the beginning of organic life, and inherits

in its pedigree the stored results of prehuman and human experience.

Education is to unfold all these latencies in the individual and the

race to their maximal maturity and strength. As a process considered

as internally taking place, it is nothing else than human evolution;

as a force or forces tending to growth, it is “almost as broad as what

biology calls environment”--a much wider conception than instruction

and discipline.

According to the genetic view of soul, consciousness is a late

product in the evolution of the soul kingdom, and thus constitutes

only a small and yet unstable upper story of our psychic structure.

Thus we must seek “the bearer of mental heredity” in the larger and

older basal structure of the soul, namely, in the motor habits,

feelings, instincts, impulses, and intuitions--which constitute the

unconscious part of our soul. It follows, then, that to secure a full

and unhindered unfolding of this unconscious basal part of our soul is

the first concern of education. Unless built on this foundation rock,

which is coextensive with the history of animal and human evolution,

the superstructure will not stand firm and secure. So Dr. Hall stands

as a vigorous protestant against the ultra-intellectualistic tendency

of prevailing education which neglects the culture of motor habits, of

instincts, and of emotions and pleads for the cultivation of the heart

as well as the head.

First, he is an ardent apostle of the education of and through

muscle, the growing recognition of which has been one of the most

conspicuous and hopeful tendencies of educational progress in recent

years. “Muscles are the vehicles of habituation, imitation, obedience,

character, and even of manners and customs.... Skill, endurance, and

perseverance may almost be called muscular virtues, and fatigue,

velleity, caprice, _ennui_, restlessness, lack of control,

and poise, muscular faults” (1: vol. i, p. 132). Thus the basis of

character building must be laid in motor training; will culture is

essentially muscle culture. Yet muscles are not only the organs of

will, but also of feeling and thought. Throughout animal and human

evolution, the development of intelligence went together with that

of the structure and function of muscles, and every change in our

emotional life is accompanied by change in internal or external muscles

of the body.

The first care in muscle culture must be to secure abundance and

diversity of kinetic energy. “Here, as everywhere, the rule holds that

powers themselves must be unfolded before the ability to check or even

use them can develop” (1: vol. i, p. 161). The vigorous spontaneity

of sporadic movements in young children should be cherished instead

of suppressed. The coördination of these purposeless activities into

higher compounds of habits should come only slowly and gradually, or

else it will cause either atrophy or disease of motor function. The

natural evolutionary course of muscular development has been from the

fundamental to the accessory; and early childhood is the period for the

development of larger basal muscles. Any fine work requiring accuracy,

taxing the tiny accessory muscles, either of the eyes, of the tongue,

or of the fingers should not be exacted. Training of the accessory

muscles ought to come between the ages of eight and twelve. This is

preëminently the period for drill, for mechanization.

Puberty is the stage of ill-balanced transition. The motor

coördinations are lost for a moment, all the ways of awkwardness,

mannerisms, and semi-imperative acts manifest themselves as a result.

“This is again the age of the basal--e. g., hill-climbing muscles

of leg and back and shoulder work, and of the yet more fundamental

heart, lung, and chest muscles” (1: vol. i, p. 165). As during early

childhood, now the danger is overemphasis upon the activities of

accessory muscles and overprecision. Now, again, book-studies,

class-lessons may become an evil. They constitute “not a liberal,

power-generating, but a highly and prematurely specialized, narrowing

and weakening education, unless offset by safeguards better than any

system of gymnastics, which is at best artificial and exaggerated” (1:

vol. i, p. 165).

For Dr. Hall, play presents the ideal type of exercise; he, like

Froebel, spares no words of praise for its merits. According to him,

in play we unconsciously rehearse the motor experience of the race.

The motor habits won by the long history of toil and pain, elaborated

in the life-and-death struggle for existence, now reappear in us by

impulse, as spontaneity and joy. And “pleasure is always exactly

proportional to the directness and force of the current of heredity”

(1: vol. i, p. 206). It is, therefore, his opinion that we should

direct the exercise of the young to these old basal activities handed

down from the distant past, which have built up the intellect and

character as well as the physique of the race, rather than insist upon

those arbitrary systems and methods invented to form a symmetrical body

according to our ideas. He thinks that “education perhaps should really

begin with directing childish sports aright” (1: vol. i, p. 231).

Dr. Hall sees in industrial training a motor education of more psychic

impulsion and generic ground than pure manual training artificially

designed. Adolescence is the golden period for it. “Industry has

determined the nature and trend of muscular development and youth who

have pets, till the soil, build, manufacture, use tools, and master

elementary processes and skills, are most truly repeating the history

of the race. This, too, lays the best foundation for intellectual

careers. The study of pure science as well as a higher technology

follows rather than precedes this” (1: vol. i, p. 174). The danger here

that should be guarded against is its tendency to narrow exclusiveness

and too early specialization. Health and free development of body as

well as of mind are apt to be sacrificed. However, utility is naturally

its essential aim, and maximal efficiency of productive power is the

standard of success; it ought to fit the pupil for the struggle of

life. Such “struggle-for-lifeurs,” sturdy in arms and spirit, not

“flabby, undeveloped, anæmic, easy-living city youth,” is the demand of

modern America. Real industrial training is a man-making education.

Thus, according to Dr. Hall, character is to be built not upon

Herbart’s coherent and compact system of ideas, but upon vigorous,

well-developed, and perfectly coördinated muscles. However, this is

not, of course, the whole of moral training. Will is to be made moral,

not only to be strong and healthy. This moralization of will is the

task of discipline.

Not unlike Dr. Harris, but more in the spirit of the father of English

pedagogy, he posits that about the only duty of small children is

habitual and prompt obedience. Nothing like the reasoning ground of

conduct, or the free self-determination of will, for them; the extent

of authority felt, revered, and depended upon is the measure of

success. He thinks that “if our love is deep, obedience is an instinct

if not a religion” for the child: “as the plant grows toward light, so

they unfold in the direction of our wishes, felt as by divination” (2:

p. 332).

Dr. Hall sees in the present trend of education more danger of becoming

oversentimental than of falling into brutality; so he recommends

“drastic reconstructions” of will, when habituation does not, as should

be expected, run smoothly. He likens the corporal punishment to a sword

in its scabbard: “it may be reserved, but should not get so rusted

that it cannot be drawn on occasion”; and believes that “will culture

for boys is rarely as thorough as it should be without more or less

flogging” (2: pp. 338-339).

External authority, however, must find response in the intellectual

motivation of the child as it grows, else it can avail but little

educationally. “The various stimuli of discipline are to enforce the

higher though weaker insights which the child has already unfolded,

rather than to engraft entirely unintuited good,” and “we must not

forget that even morality is relative, and is one thing for adults and

quite often another for children” (2: p. 335).

The transition from the morality of authority and coercion to that of

reason and free will may be bridged by simple, practical instructions.

These are to be given in the form of a few well-chosen mottoes,

proverbs, maxims, always clear cut, copiously illustrated, and well

familiarized. Philosophic morality should be deprecated both for

children and teachers. Every road of human activity leads to the great

Rome of character. For Dr. Hall, “the highest and also immediate

practical method of moral training” lies in intellectual work,

concentrated, sustained, and inspirited. Mental work, in order to be

serviceable to the production of healthy manhood, should be “a series

of acts, or living thoughts and not words.” The lack of volitional

initiative and reaction in the current form of mental training has

caused “the general paralysis of cultured intellect.” Learning should

be changed from a mere reception, as it is now, into the putting forth

of self-activity. “It is the way and not the goal, the work and not

the product, the acquiring and not the acquisition, that educates

will and character” (2: p. 346). Then the spirit of thoroughness is

the requisite for the intellectual training that at the same time

trains the will. “Smattering is dissipation of energy. Only great,

concentrated and prolonged efforts in one direction really train the

mind, because only _they_ train the will beneath it” (2: p. 349).

This is one of the educative forces of specialization.

To turn now to intellectual culture. In Dr. Hall’s opinion, the

school stands essentially for the prolongation of human infancy and

adolescence, and not so much for the initiation of the immature

generation into the world of grown-ups; it means “the perpetuation of

the primæval paradise created before the struggle for existence began”

(8: p. 475).

From this viewpoint the kindergarten needs reconstruction. Here “a

pound of health, growth, heredity is worth a ton of instruction.... Now

the body needs most attention and the soul least” (8: p. 476). Not in

the oversystematized and oversymbolized “occupations” and “games,” but

in free, natural play children must have their true life. “Imitation

should have a far larger scope” than at present, and precocious

exercise of reasoning and thinking a less. “Part of the cult here

should be idleness and the intermediate state of reverie” (8: p. 476).

At eight or nine the child enters a new period, lasting until puberty.

The bodily growth is relatively at rest, but vitality, activity, and

the power to resist disease and fatigue show an enormous increase. The

age of reason is only dawning, and imitation is yet a strong motive

power. “Demonstrate, show, envisage,” and not “explain” is to be the

motto. “Children comprehend much and very rapidly if we can only

refrain from explaining, but this slows down intuition, tends to make

casuists and prigs, and to enfeeble the ultimate vigor of reason. It

is the age of little method and much matter” (1: vol. ii, p. 452). A

beginning in the fundamentals of all learning and skill which need

technicalities is to be made; constant drill in these will form a

stable automatic basis of mind. The qualities required of the teacher

here are not so much those of the instructor as of “the captain of the

boy’s gang.” He or she is to be able to lead, drive, and discipline

more than to teach “the human colt, which is by nature in some sense

the wildest of all wild animals.”

But with the teens there must come a total change in the mode of

education. “Powers and faculties, essentially nonexistent before,

are now born, and of all the older impulses and instincts some are

reënforced and greatly developed, while others are subdued, so that

new relations are established and the ego finds a new center” (1: vol.

ii, p. 70). The child in the preceding period was well adjusted to his

environment; his development was proportionate and relatively slow;

and he lived content with himself in his own child world. He thus

“represents probably an old and relatively perfected stage of race

maturity”; which “stands for a long-continued one, a terminal stage

of human development at some post-simian point” (1: vol. ii, p. 71).

But with the advent of adolescence, this peaceful, primeval paradise

is lost forever. The youth with its all-sided mobilization and with

its intense enthusiasm enters into the conquest of a higher kingdom

of manhood. The individual is now recapitulating a long viaticum of

ascent which the race had to make with heat and ferment, with fight

and defeat, before it evolved its historic stage of civilization.

“Early adolescence is thus the infancy of man’s higher nature, when

he receives from the great all-mother his last capital of energy

and evolutionary momentum” (1: vol. ii, p. 71). “It is the most

critical stage of life, because failure to mount almost always means

retrogression, degeneracy, or fall” (1: vol. ii, p. 72). Indeed, one of

the greatest problems of civilization, therefore of education, is how

to make “the earlier stages of adolescence ever surer and safer, and

its later possibilities ever greater and prolonged.”

Coercion and prescription can be no longer imposed without serious

injuries. “Individuality must have a longer tether” (1: vol. ii,

p. 453). This is preeminently the period of variation, which means

nothing else than evolution. Each of the impulses, instincts, and

dispositions, which represent the voices of bygone generations, shall

have a free struggle for expression. “Its function is to stimulate the

next higher power that can only thus be provoked to development, in

order to direct, repress, or supersede it.” So-called lower faculties

or instincts, if artificially and prematurely suppressed, may “break

out well on in adult life, falsetto notes mingling with manly base as

strange puerilities” (1: vol. ii, pp. 89-90).

The educator is now essentially to be a teacher, not a drillmaster; he

must know plenty and teach plenty; he must be generous and indulgent

in his giving, and not exacting in requiring returns from the pupil.

“The teacher’s cue is now to graft the soul all over with buds and

scions, and not to try to gather a harvest” (8: p. 485). Recitation

and examination methods are harmful both to the intellect and the will.

Morselizing the knowledge and insisting upon methodical steps starve

the adolescent soul, which, being “all insight and receptivity,” wants

to devour great wholes.

Dr. Hall makes an ardent plea for the independence of the high school

from the control of the higher institutions, making it “the peoples’

college,” complete in itself. It stands to meet peculiar needs of the

unique stage of life, with a distinct function of its own. It “should

primarily fit for nothing, but exploit and develop to the utmost all

the powers” (1: vol. ii, p. 525).

The nineteenth year in boys marks an epoch. It is a time for adjustment

and rest after the rank growth. It is a period of systematic rounding

up, following the all-sided mobilization. The liberal education of the

college is provided here, for those who are favored by circumstances.

It is to be an essentially cultural and humanistic institution, broadly

propædeutic and preparatory to the career of mature manhood. Therefore,

college “should stand for extensive more than intensive study....

It implies knowing something of everything more than everything of

something” (1: vol. ii, p. 528). Not scientific or professional

acquirement, still less mastery, but training and discipline of mind

is the aim. The teacher “should address his efforts more to the upper

and less to the lower half of his class, forage widely and incessantly,

and bring everything within reach in his field to them.... Mental

awakening should be his goal, and he should inspire them to read for

pleasure, for the only real measure of culture is the number and kinds

of things done for the love of them.... The test of success here is the

number of interests and the intensity of curiosity aroused far more

than the size of the body of knowledge laid away in the memory” (1:

vol. ii, p. 530).

As to university education, the fundamental notions of Dr. Hall are

a clearer and more definite statement of those of Bacon and Fichte,

which the modern advancement of science and his own experience as a

university president have enabled him to make. The university stands

chiefly for specialization in scholarship. Its inspiration is the

conquest of truth, extension of the domain of human knowledge, and

consequently of human power. Its education is in and for and by a

free, though at first guided and assisted, investigation. Not merely

accumulating what has already been found and refined, but digging

out yet undiscovered mines of facts and laws, is its chief task. The

university in this sense is the culmination of adolescent education.

It cultivates in the youth the creative ability which does not, like

the mere carrying capacity, weigh down the possessor; the sense of

I-can-do-something-important, which gives one confidence, and poise, an

enthusiasm which is not fanatic, a genuine attitude of respect, even

of reverence for the efforts of all seekers for truth. It calls forth

“truthfulness, integrity, morality in every direction, self-sacrifice,

and what perhaps includes them all, enthusiasm for the highest ideals

of living and thinking,” by laying demands upon these best qualities in

man’s character.

The right of a larger manhood has been the claim of all the educational

reformers deserving the name. The unfolding of the total man has

been their repeated assertion. But they have always fallen into one

or another form of one-sidedness--mainly on account of their narrow

conception of the human soul. Here comes another renovator with his

“new psychology,” which he believes “will surely take the place of

the older concepts of soul, as the theory of evolution has taken the

place of those of life,” and claims for it the potency of bringing

about a total reconstruction of our educational spirit and methods.

His own pedagogy is a still incomplete, unfinished, and ever-enlarging

construction. But he opens the way for the philosophy of education,

which is to be “one with that of history and of life,” and predicts

with the zeal and vision of a prophet its future position:

“If evolution is true, the time will come, as certainly as the sun

will rise to-morrow, when it (pedagogy) will be the basis of a new

harmony, unity, and organization of the sciences, and instead of

being the Cinderella in their circle, it will supply the criterion by

which they are all judged; it will grade and evaluate each product of

culture” (4: p. 383).

REFERENCES

1. +Harris, William Torrey.+ Report of the Subcommittee on

the Correlation of Studies in Elementary Education. _Educational

Review_, Vol. IX, March, 1895, pp. 230-289.

2. ---- Social Culture in the Form of Education and Religion.

Proceedings of International Congress of Arts and Sciences. Houghton &

Mifflin Co., New York and Boston, 1907. Vol. VIII, pp. 1-16.

3. ---- Psychologic Foundations of Education; an Attempt to Show the

Genesis of the Higher Faculties of the Mind. (International Education

Series.) Appleton, New York, 1894. 400 pages.

4. ---- Lectures on the Philosophy of Education. Johns Hopkins

University Studies in Historical and Political Science. Supplementary

notes. Eleventh series, 1893, pp. 269-277.

5. ---- Prescription, its Province in Education. Proceedings of

American Institute of Instruction, 1871, pp. 127-151.

6. ---- Vocation _versus_ Culture. Proceedings of American

Institute of Instruction, 1891, pp. 1-20.

7. ---- Moral Education in the Common Schools. Proceedings of American

Institute of Instruction, 1884. Lectures, pp. 29-46.

8. ---- The Relation of School Discipline to Moral Education.

Herbartian Year Book, No. 3, 1897, pp. 58-72.

9. ---- Relation of Women to the Trades and Professions.

_Educational Review_, October, 1900, Vol. XX, pp. 217-229.

10. ---- The Use of Higher Education. _Educational Review_,

September, 1898, Vol. XVI, pp. 147-161.

11. ---- Educational Policy for Our New Possessions. _Educational

Review_, September, 1899, Vol. XVIII, pp. 105-118.

12. ---- The Future of the Normal School. _Educational Review_,

January, 1899, Vol. XVII, pp. 1-15.

13. ---- How the School Strengthens the Individuality of the Pupil.

_Educational Review_, October, 1902, Vol. XXIV, pp. 228-237.

14. Prof. John Dewey’s Doctrine as Related to Will. _Educational

Review_, May, 1896, Vol. XI, pp. 486-493.

REFERENCES

1. +Hall, Granville Stanley.+ Adolescence; its Psychology and

its Relations to Physiology, Anthropology, Sociology, Sex, Crime,

Religion. Appleton, New York, 1905. 2 vols.

2. ---- Youth; its Education, Regimen, and Hygiene. Appleton, New

York, 1906. 369 pages.

3. ---- and Some of his Pupils. Aspects of Child Life and Education.

Ginn & Co., Boston, 1907. 326 pages.

4. ---- What is Pedagogy? _Pedagogical Seminary_, December, 1905.

Vol. XII, pp. 375-383.

5. ---- Confessions of a Psychologist. _Pedagogical Seminary_,

March, 1901. Vol. VIII, pp. 92-143.

6. ---- Moral and Religious Training of Children and Adolescents.

_Pedagogical Seminary_, June, 1891, pp. 196-210.

7. ---- Moral Education and Will Training. _Pedagogical

Seminary_, June, 1892, pp. 72-98.

8. ---- The Ideal School, as Based on Child Study. Proceedings

of National Education Association, 1901, pp. 475-488. (Also in

_Forum_, September, 1901, Vol. XXXII, pp. 24-39.)

9. ---- The High School or the People’s College versus the Fitting

School. Proceedings of National Education Association, 1902. (Also in

_Pedagogical Seminary_, March, 1902, Vol. IX, pp. 63-73.)

10. ---- What is Research in a University Sense and How May it Best be

Promoted? _Pedagogical Seminary_, March, 1902, Vol. IX, pp. 74-80.

11. ---- Pedagogy of History. _Pedagogical Seminary_, September,

1905, Vol. XII, pp. 339-349.

12. ---- How to Teach Reading and What to Read in School. Heath & Co.,

Boston, 1890. 40 pages.

13. ---- Coeducation in the High School. Proceedings of National

Education Association, 1903, pp. 446-460.

14. ---- The Question of Coeducation. _Munsey_, February, 1906.

Vol. XXXIV, pp. 588-592. (Also in _Bulletin of American Academy of

Medicine_, October, 1906, Vol. VII, pp. 653-656.)

15. +Russel, Elias Harlow.+ Biographical Sketch of President

Hall. (In _American Journal of Insanity_, October, 1896, Vol.

LIII, pp. 317-322.)

INDEX

Adolescence, 28, 82-89, 109-110, 262-264, 280-282, 284, 286-290.

Alsted, 19.

Andreä, 19.

Arithmetic, 135, 178.

Association, 52, 206.

Athenian education, 2-3.

Attention, 50-51, 129, 208-209, 233, 255.

Bacon, 12-15.

mentioned, 18, 30, 38, 39, 52, 54, 223, 225, 226, 289.

on higher education, 15.

on knowledge, 12-14.

Barnard, quoted, 146.

Basedow, 93-98.

fundamental principles of didactics, 96-97.

ideal education, 95.

influence of, 94, 97-98.

language instruction, 95-96.

mentioned, 103, 105, 113, 139.

“Philalethie,” 94.

physical culture, 95-96.

Bible, 8, 27.

Boardman, quoted, 189-190.

Bodily faculty, A. B. C. of, 151.

Boyhood, 28, 77-82, 179-186, 253-261, 270-274, 280, 283-286.

Browning, on Locke, 38.

on Rousseau, 61.

Campanella, 19.

Carlyle, on Rousseau, 59, 60.

Character. See Moral Training.

Child-study movement, 277-278.

Childhood, 28, 71-77, 133-137, 174-179, 252-253, 270, 280, 282-283,

285.

early, 28, 69-71, 173-174, 252.

Chinese, compared with Greeks, 1.

Christianity, influence of, on education, 3-12.

Church, education by, 4-5.

service of Catholic, 7.

Cicero, quoted, 3.

Circle of thought, 206.

Civilization and education, 268-269.

Classics, 5, 10, 14, 26, 39, 48-49, 94, 162, 225, 228, 257.

Coeducation, 157, 293.

Comenius, 18-31.

compared with Locke. See Locke.

early education advocated, 22-24.

existing schools criticised, 24-26.

“Great Didactic,” 20, 29, 35.

ideal of education, 20-21, 29, 35.

mentioned, 68, 89, 94, 96, 119-120, 138, 139, 194, 276-277.

on discipline, 25-26.

on function of school, 24.

on method, 26-28.

on necessity of education, 21-22.

on necessity of school, 23-24.

on school system, 28.

on subject-matter, 26.

“Orbis Pictus,” 96.

Compayré, on Froebel, 192-193.

on Greek influence on education, 1.

on Luther, 7.

Comte, 230.

Concentration-center, 213-214.

Coöperation, 155-156, 162-163, 216.

Corporal punishment, 43-44, 283.

Cosmopolitanism, 110.

Culture stages, 213-214.

Curiosity, 50, 253.

Dancing, 48.

Davidson, on Rousseau, 61.

Developmental stages, 68-69, 124, 169, 171-173, 213, 251-252.

Discipline, 10, 25-26, 42-46, 102-103, 152, 214-215, 234-236, 250-251,

259-260, 270-272, 282-283.

We might deduce from this that manhood is the age for specialization,