{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_37423/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_37423","id":"gutenberg_37423","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/37423","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Category: Teaching & Education","Educational psychology","Thought and thinking"],"text":"</pre>\n\n\n\nProduced by Juliet Sutherland, Cathy Maxam and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n  TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE: Minor inconsistencies in hyphenated words have\n  been adjusted to correspond with the author's most frequent usage.\n\n  On page 60 a printer error from the original text was corrected: the\n  word \"drawings\" has been changed to \"drawing\" in the phrase, \"...\n  drawing has been taught....\"\n\n\n\n\n  HOW WE THINK\n\n  BY\n  JOHN DEWEY\n  PROFESSOR OF PHILOSOPHY IN COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY\n\n  D. C. HEATH & CO., PUBLISHERS\n  BOSTON      NEW YORK      CHICAGO\n\n\n\n\n  COPYRIGHT, 1910,\n  BY D. C. HEATH & CO.\n\n  2 F 8\n\n  Printed in U. S. A.\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nOur schools are troubled with a multiplication of studies, each in turn\nhaving its own multiplication of materials and principles. Our teachers\nfind their tasks made heavier in that they have come to deal with pupils\nindividually and not merely in mass. Unless these steps in advance are\nto end in distraction, some clew of unity, some principle that makes for\nsimplification, must be found. This book represents the conviction that\nthe needed steadying and centralizing factor is found in adopting as the\nend of endeavor that attitude of mind, that habit of thought, which we\ncall scientific. This scientific attitude of mind might, conceivably, be\nquite irrelevant to teaching children and youth. But this book also\nrepresents the conviction that such is not the case; that the native and\nunspoiled attitude of childhood, marked by ardent curiosity, fertile\nimagination, and love of experimental inquiry, is near, very near, to\nthe attitude of the scientific mind. If these pages assist any to\nappreciate this kinship and to consider seriously how its recognition in\neducational practice would make for individual happiness and the\nreduction of social waste, the book will amply have served its purpose.\n\nIt is hardly necessary to enumerate the authors to whom I am indebted.\nMy fundamental indebtedness is to my wife, by whom the ideas of this\nbook were inspired, and through whose work in connection with the\nLaboratory School, existing in Chicago between 1896 and 1903, the ideas\nattained such concreteness as comes from embodiment and testing in\npractice. It is a pleasure, also, to acknowledge indebtedness to the\nintelligence and sympathy of those who cooeperated as teachers and\nsupervisors in the conduct of that school, and especially to Mrs. Ella\nFlagg Young, then a colleague in the University, and now Superintendent\nof the Schools of Chicago.\n\nNEW YORK CITY, December, 1909.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n  PART I\n\n  THE PROBLEM OF TRAINING THOUGHT\n\n  CHAPTER                                                     PAGE\n\n     I. WHAT IS THOUGHT?                                        1\n\n    II. THE NEED FOR TRAINING THOUGHT                          14\n\n   III. NATURAL RESOURCES IN THE TRAINING OF THOUGHT           29\n\n    IV. SCHOOL CONDITIONS AND THE TRAINING OF THOUGHT          45\n\n     V. THE MEANS AND END OF MENTAL TRAINING: THE\n        PSYCHOLOGICAL AND THE LOGICAL                          56\n\n\n  PART II\n\n  LOGICAL CONSIDERATIONS\n\n     VI. THE ANALYSIS OF A COMPLETE ACT OF THOUGHT             68\n\n    VII. SYSTEMATIC INFERENCE: INDUCTION AND DEDUCTION         79\n\n   VIII. JUDGMENT: THE INTERPRETATION OF FACTS                101\n\n    IX. MEANING: OR CONCEPTIONS AND UNDERSTANDING             116\n\n     X. CONCRETE AND ABSTRACT THINKING                        135\n\n    XI. EMPIRICAL AND SCIENTIFIC THINKING                     145\n\n\n  PART III\n\n  THE TRAINING OF THOUGHT\n\n   XII. ACTIVITY AND THE TRAINING OF THOUGHT                  157\n\n  XIII. LANGUAGE AND THE TRAINING OF THOUGHT                  170\n\n   XIV. OBSERVATION AND INFORMATION IN THE TRAINING\n        OF MIND                                               188\n\n    XV. THE RECITATION AND THE TRAINING OF THOUGHT            201\n\n   XVI. SOME GENERAL CONCLUSIONS                              214\n\n\n\n\nHOW WE THINK\n\n\n\n\nPART ONE: THE PROBLEM OF TRAINING THOUGHT\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER ONE\n\nWHAT IS THOUGHT?\n\n\nSec. 1. _Varied Senses of the Term_\n\n[Sidenote: Four senses of thought, from the wider to the limited]\n\nNo words are oftener on our lips than _thinking_ and _thought_. So\nprofuse and varied, indeed, is our use of these words that it is not\neasy to define just what we mean by them. The aim of this chapter is to\nfind a single consistent meaning. Assistance may be had by considering\nsome typical ways in which the terms are employed. In the first place\n_thought_ is used broadly, not to say loosely. Everything that comes to\nmind, that \"goes through our heads,\" is called a thought. To think of a\nthing is just to be conscious of it in any way whatsoever. Second, the\nterm is restricted by excluding whatever is directly presented; we think\n(or think of) only such things as we do not directly see, hear, smell,\nor taste. Then, third, the meaning is further limited to beliefs that\nrest upon some kind of evidence or testimony. Of this third type, two\nkinds--or, rather, two degrees--must be discriminated. In some cases, a\nbelief is accepted with slight or almost no attempt to state the grounds\nthat support it. In other cases, the ground or basis for a belief is\ndeliberately sought and its adequacy to support the belief examined.\nThis process is called reflective thought; it alone is truly educative\nin value, and it forms, accordingly, the principal subject of this\nvolume. We shall now briefly describe each of the four senses.\n\n[Sidenote: Chance and idle thinking]\n\nI. In its loosest sense, thinking signifies everything that, as we say,\nis \"in our heads\" or that \"goes through our minds.\" He who offers \"a\npenny for your thoughts\" does not expect to drive any great bargain. In\ncalling the objects of his demand _thoughts_, he does not intend to\nascribe to them dignity, consecutiveness, or truth. Any idle fancy,\ntrivial recollection, or flitting impression will satisfy his demand.\nDaydreaming, building of castles in the air, that loose flux of casual\nand disconnected material that floats through our minds in relaxed\nmoments are, in this random sense, _thinking_. More of our waking life\nthan we should care to admit, even to ourselves, is likely to be whiled\naway in this inconsequential trifling with idle fancy and unsubstantial\nhope.\n\n[Sidenote: Reflective thought is consecutive, not merely a sequence]\n\nIn this sense, silly folk and dullards _think_. The story is told of a\nman in slight repute for intelligence, who, desiring to be chosen\nselectman in his New England town, addressed a knot of neighbors in this\nwise: \"I hear you don't believe I know enough to hold office. I wish you\nto understand that I am thinking about something or other most of the\ntime.\" Now reflective thought is like this random coursing of things\nthrough the mind in that it consists of a succession of things thought\nof; but it is unlike, in that the mere chance occurrence of any chance\n\"something or other\" in an irregular sequence does not suffice.\nReflection involves not simply a sequence of ideas, but a\n_con_sequence--a consecutive ordering in such a way that each\ndetermines the next as its proper outcome, while each in turn leans back\non its predecessors. The successive portions of the reflective thought\ngrow out of one another and support one another; they do not\ncome and go in a medley. Each phase is a step from something to\nsomething--technically speaking, it is a term of thought. Each term\nleaves a deposit which is utilized in the next term. The stream or flow\nbecomes a train, chain, or thread.\n\n[Sidenote: The restriction of _thinking_ to what goes beyond direct\nobservation]\n\n[Sidenote: Reflective thought aims, however, at belief]\n\nII. Even when thinking is used in a broad sense, it is usually\nrestricted to matters not directly perceived: to what we do not see,\nsmell, hear, or touch. We ask the man telling a story if he saw a\ncertain incident happen, and his reply may be, \"No, I only thought of\nit.\" A note of invention, as distinct from faithful record of\nobservation, is present. Most important in this class are successions of\nimaginative incidents and episodes which, having a certain coherence,\nhanging together on a continuous thread, lie between kaleidoscopic\nflights of fancy and considerations deliberately employed to establish a\nconclusion. The imaginative stories poured forth by children possess all\ndegrees of internal congruity; some are disjointed, some are\narticulated. When connected, they simulate reflective thought; indeed,\nthey usually occur in minds of logical capacity. These imaginative\nenterprises often precede thinking of the close-knit type and prepare\nthe way for it. But _they do not aim at knowledge, at belief about facts\nor in truths_; and thereby they are marked off from reflective thought\neven when they most resemble it. Those who express such thoughts do not\nexpect credence, but rather credit for a well-constructed plot or a\nwell-arranged climax. They produce good stories, not--unless by\nchance--knowledge. Such thoughts are an efflorescence of feeling; the\nenhancement of a mood or sentiment is their aim; congruity of emotion,\ntheir binding tie.\n\n[Sidenote: Thought induces belief in two ways]\n\nIII. In its next sense, thought denotes belief resting upon some basis,\nthat is, real or supposed knowledge going beyond what is directly\npresent. It is marked by _acceptance or rejection of something as\nreasonably probable or improbable_. This phase of thought, however,\nincludes two such distinct types of belief that, even though their\ndifference is strictly one of degree, not of kind, it becomes\npractically important to consider them separately. Some beliefs are\naccepted when their grounds have not themselves been considered, others\nare accepted because their grounds have been examined.\n\nWhen we say, \"Men used to think the world was flat,\" or, \"I thought you\nwent by the house,\" we express belief: something is accepted, held to,\nacquiesced in, or affirmed. But such thoughts may mean a supposition\naccepted without reference to its real grounds. These may be adequate,\nthey may not; but their value with reference to the support they afford\nthe belief has not been considered.\n\nSuch thoughts grow up unconsciously and without reference to the\nattainment of correct belief. They are picked up--we know not how. From\nobscure sources and by unnoticed channels they insinuate themselves into\nacceptance and become unconsciously a part of our mental furniture.\nTradition, instruction, imitation--all of which depend upon authority in\nsome form, or appeal to our own advantage, or fall in with a strong\npassion--are responsible for them. Such thoughts are prejudices, that\nis, prejudgments, not judgments proper that rest upon a survey of\nevidence.[1]\n\n    [1] This mode of thinking in its contrast with thoughtful inquiry\n    receives special notice in the next chapter.\n\n[Sidenote: Thinking in its best sense is that which considers the basis\nand consequences of beliefs]\n\nIV. Thoughts that result in belief have an importance attached to them\nwhich leads to reflective thought, to conscious inquiry into the nature,\nconditions, and bearings of the belief. To _think_ of whales and camels\nin the clouds is to entertain ourselves with fancies, terminable at our\npleasure, which do not lead to any belief in particular. But to think of\nthe world as flat is to ascribe a quality to a real thing as its real\nproperty. This conclusion denotes a connection among things and hence is\nnot, like imaginative thought, plastic to our mood. Belief in the\nworld's flatness commits him who holds it to thinking in certain\nspecific ways of other objects, such as the heavenly bodies, antipodes,\nthe possibility of navigation. It prescribes to him actions in\naccordance with his conception of these objects.\n\nThe consequences of a belief upon other beliefs and upon behavior may be\nso important, then, that men are forced to consider the grounds or\nreasons of their belief and its logical consequences. This means\nreflective thought--thought in its eulogistic and emphatic sense.\n\n[Sidenote: Reflective thought defined]\n\nMen _thought_ the world was flat until Columbus _thought_ it to be\nround. The earlier thought was a belief held because men had not the\nenergy or the courage to question what those about them accepted and\ntaught, especially as it was suggested and seemingly confirmed by\nobvious sensible facts. The thought of Columbus was a _reasoned\nconclusion_. It marked the close of study into facts, of scrutiny and\nrevision of evidence, of working out the implications of various\nhypotheses, and of comparing these theoretical results with one another\nand with known facts. Because Columbus did not accept unhesitatingly the\ncurrent traditional theory, because he doubted and inquired, he arrived\nat his thought. Skeptical of what, from long habit, seemed most certain,\nand credulous of what seemed impossible, he went on thinking until he\ncould produce evidence for both his confidence and his disbelief. Even\nif his conclusion had finally turned out wrong, it would have been a\ndifferent sort of belief from those it antagonized, because it was\nreached by a different method. _Active, persistent, and careful\nconsideration of any belief or supposed form of knowledge in the light\nof the grounds that support it, and the further conclusions to which it\ntends_, constitutes reflective thought. Any one of the first three kinds\nof thought may elicit this type; but once begun, it is a conscious and\nvoluntary effort to establish belief upon a firm basis of reasons.\n\n\nSec. 2. _The Central Factor in Thinking_\n\n[Sidenote: There is a common element in all types of thought:]\n\nThere are, however, no sharp lines of demarcation between the various\noperations just outlined. The problem of attaining correct habits of\nreflection would be much easier than it is, did not the different modes\nof thinking blend insensibly into one another. So far, we have\nconsidered rather extreme instances of each kind in order to get the\nfield clearly before us. Let us now reverse this operation; let us\nconsider a rudimentary case of thinking, lying between careful\nexamination of evidence and a mere irresponsible stream of fancies. A\nman is walking on a warm day. The sky was clear the last time he\nobserved it; but presently he notes, while occupied primarily with other\nthings, that the air is cooler. It occurs to him that it is probably\ngoing to rain; looking up, he sees a dark cloud between him and the\nsun, and he then quickens his steps. What, if anything, in such a\nsituation can be called thought? Neither the act of walking nor the\nnoting of the cold is a thought. Walking is one direction of activity;\nlooking and noting are other modes of activity. The likelihood that it\nwill rain is, however, something _suggested_. The pedestrian _feels_ the\ncold; he _thinks of_ clouds and a coming shower.\n\n[Sidenote: _viz._ suggestion of something not observed]\n\n[Sidenote: But reflection involves also the relation of _signifying_]\n\nSo far there is the same sort of situation as when one looking at a\ncloud is reminded of a human figure and face. Thinking in both of these\ncases (the cases of belief and of fancy) involves a noted or perceived\nfact, followed by something else which is not observed but which is\nbrought to mind, suggested by the thing seen. One reminds us, as we say,\nof the other. Side by side, however, with this factor of agreement in\nthe two cases of suggestion is a factor of marked disagreement. We do\nnot _believe_ in the face suggested by the cloud; we do not consider at\nall the probability of its being a fact. There is no _reflective_\nthought. The danger of rain, on the contrary, presents itself to us as a\ngenuine possibility--as a possible fact of the same nature as the\nobserved coolness. Put differently, we do not regard the cloud as\nmeaning or indicating a face, but merely as suggesting it, while we do\nconsider that the coolness may mean rain. In the first case, seeing an\nobject, we just happen, as we say, to think of something else; in the\nsecond, we consider the _possibility and nature of the connection\nbetween the object seen and the object suggested_. The seen thing is\nregarded as in some way _the ground or basis of belief_ in the suggested\nthing; it possesses the quality of _evidence_.\n\n[Sidenote: Various synonymous expressions for the function of\nsignifying]\n\nThis function by which one thing signifies or indicates another, and\nthereby leads us to consider how far one may be regarded as warrant for\nbelief in the other, is, then, the central factor in all reflective or\ndistinctively intellectual thinking. By calling up various situations to\nwhich such terms as _signifies_ and _indicates_ apply, the student will\nbest realize for himself the actual facts denoted by the words\n_reflective thought_. Synonyms for these terms are: points to, tells of,\nbetokens, prognosticates, represents, stands for, implies.[2] We also\nsay one thing portends another; is ominous of another, or a symptom of\nit, or a key to it, or (if the connection is quite obscure) that it\ngives a hint, clue, or intimation.\n\n    [2] _Implies_ is more often used when a principle or general truth\n    brings about belief in some other truth; the other phrases are more\n    frequently used to denote the cases in which one fact or event leads\n    us to believe in something else.\n\n[Sidenote: Reflection and belief on evidence]\n\nReflection thus implies that something is believed in (or disbelieved\nin), not on its own direct account, but through something else which\nstands as witness, evidence, proof, voucher, warrant; that is, as\n_ground of belief_. At one time, rain is actually felt or directly\nexperienced; at another time, we infer that it has rained from the looks\nof the grass and trees, or that it is going to rain because of the\ncondition of the air or the state of the barometer. At one time, we see\na man (or suppose we do) without any intermediary fact; at another time,\nwe are not quite sure what we see, and hunt for accompanying facts that\nwill serve as signs, indications, tokens of what is to be believed.\n\nThinking, for the purposes of this inquiry, is defined accordingly as\n_that operation in which present facts suggest other facts (or truths)\nin such a way as to induce belief in the latter upon the ground or\nwarrant of the former_. We do not put beliefs that rest simply on\ninference on the surest level of assurance. To say \"I think so\" implies\nthat I do not as yet _know_ so. The inferential belief may later be\nconfirmed and come to stand as sure, but in itself it always has a\ncertain element of supposition.\n\n\nSec. 3. _Elements in Reflective Thinking_\n\nSo much for the description of the more external and obvious aspects of\nthe fact called _thinking_. Further consideration at once reveals\ncertain subprocesses which are involved in every reflective operation.\nThese are: (_a_) a state of perplexity, hesitation, doubt; and (_b_) an\nact of search or investigation directed toward bringing to light further\nfacts which serve to corroborate or to nullify the suggested belief.\n\n[Sidenote: The importance of uncertainty]\n\n(_a_) In our illustration, the shock of coolness generated confusion and\nsuspended belief, at least momentarily. Because it was unexpected, it\nwas a shock or an interruption needing to be accounted for, identified,\nor placed. To say that the abrupt occurrence of the change of\ntemperature constitutes a problem may sound forced and artificial; but\nif we are willing to extend the meaning of the word _problem_ to\nwhatever--no matter how slight and commonplace in character--perplexes\nand challenges the mind so that it makes belief at all uncertain, there\nis a genuine problem or question involved in this experience of sudden\nchange.\n\n[Sidenote: and of inquiry in order to test]\n\n(_b_) The turning of the head, the lifting of the eyes, the scanning of\nthe heavens, are activities adapted to bring to recognition facts that\nwill answer the question presented by the sudden coolness. The facts as\nthey first presented themselves were perplexing; they suggested,\nhowever, clouds. The act of looking was an act to discover if this\nsuggested explanation held good. It may again seem forced to speak of\nthis looking, almost automatic, as an act of research or inquiry. But\nonce more, if we are willing to generalize our conceptions of our mental\noperations to include the trivial and ordinary as well as the technical\nand recondite, there is no good reason for refusing to give such a title\nto the act of looking. The purport of this act of inquiry is to confirm\nor to refute the suggested belief. New facts are brought to perception,\nwhich either corroborate the idea that a change of weather is imminent,\nor negate it.\n\n[Sidenote: Finding one's way an illustration of reflection]\n\nAnother instance, commonplace also, yet not quite so trivial, may\nenforce this lesson. A man traveling in an unfamiliar region comes to a\nbranching of the roads. Having no sure knowledge to fall back upon, he\nis brought to a standstill of hesitation and suspense. Which road is\nright? And how shall perplexity be resolved? There are but two\nalternatives: he must either blindly and arbitrarily take his course,\ntrusting to luck for the outcome, or he must discover grounds for the\nconclusion that a given road is right. Any attempt to decide the matter\nby thinking will involve inquiry into other facts, whether brought out\nby memory or by further observation, or by both. The perplexed wayfarer\nmust carefully scrutinize what is before him and he must cudgel his\nmemory. He looks for evidence that will support belief in favor of\neither of the roads--for evidence that will weight down one suggestion.\nHe may climb a tree; he may go first in this direction, then in that,\nlooking, in either case, for signs, clues, indications. He wants\nsomething in the nature of a signboard or a map, and _his reflection is\naimed at the discovery of facts that will serve this purpose_.\n\n[Sidenote: Possible, yet incompatible, suggestions]\n\nThe above illustration may be generalized. Thinking begins in what may\nfairly enough be called a _forked-road_ situation, a situation which is\nambiguous, which presents a dilemma, which proposes alternatives. As\nlong as our activity glides smoothly along from one thing to another, or\nas long as we permit our imagination to entertain fancies at pleasure,\nthere is no call for reflection. Difficulty or obstruction in the way of\nreaching a belief brings us, however, to a pause. In the suspense of\nuncertainty, we metaphorically climb a tree; we try to find some\nstandpoint from which we may survey additional facts and, getting a more\ncommanding view of the situation, may decide how the facts stand related\nto one another.\n\n[Sidenote: Regulation of thinking by its purpose]\n\n_Demand for the solution of a perplexity is the steadying and guiding\nfactor in the entire process of reflection._ Where there is no question\nof a problem to be solved or a difficulty to be surmounted, the course\nof suggestions flows on at random; we have the first type of thought\ndescribed. If the stream of suggestions is controlled simply by their\nemotional congruity, their fitting agreeably into a single picture or\nstory, we have the second type. But a question to be answered, an\nambiguity to be resolved, sets up an end and holds the current of ideas\nto a definite channel. Every suggested conclusion is tested by its\nreference to this regulating end, by its pertinence to the problem in\nhand. This need of straightening out a perplexity also controls the kind\nof inquiry undertaken. A traveler whose end is the most beautiful path\nwill look for other considerations and will test suggestions occurring\nto him on another principle than if he wishes to discover the way to a\ngiven city. _The problem fixes the end of thought_ and _the end controls\nthe process of thinking_.\n\n\nSec. 4. _Summary_\n\n[Sidenote: Origin and stimulus]\n\nWe may recapitulate by saying that the origin of thinking is some\nperplexity, confusion, or doubt. Thinking is not a case of spontaneous\ncombustion; it does not occur just on \"general principles.\" There is\nsomething specific which occasions and evokes it. General appeals to a\nchild (or to a grown-up) to think, irrespective of the existence in his\nown experience of some difficulty that troubles him and disturbs his\nequilibrium, are as futile as advice to lift himself by his boot-straps.\n\n[Sidenote: Suggestions and past experience]\n\nGiven a difficulty, the next step is suggestion of some way out--the\nformation of some tentative plan or project, the entertaining of some\ntheory which will account for the peculiarities in question, the\nconsideration of some solution for the problem. The data at hand cannot\nsupply the solution; they can only suggest it. What, then, are the\nsources of the suggestion? Clearly past experience and prior knowledge.\nIf the person has had some acquaintance with similar situations, if he\nhas dealt with material of the same sort before, suggestions more or\nless apt and helpful are likely to arise. But unless there has been\nexperience in some degree analogous, which may now be represented in\nimagination, confusion remains mere confusion. There is nothing upon\nwhich to draw in order to clarify it. Even when a child (or a grown-up)\nhas a problem, to urge him to think when he has no prior experiences\ninvolving some of the same conditions, is wholly futile.\n\n[Sidenote: Exploration and testing]\n\nIf the suggestion that occurs is at once accepted, we have uncritical\nthinking, the minimum of reflection. To turn the thing over in mind, to\nreflect, means to hunt for additional evidence, for new data, that will\ndevelop the suggestion, and will either, as we say, bear it out or else\nmake obvious its absurdity and irrelevance. Given a genuine difficulty\nand a reasonable amount of analogous experience to draw upon, the\ndifference, _par excellence_, between good and bad thinking is found at\nthis point. The easiest way is to accept any suggestion that seems\nplausible and thereby bring to an end the condition of mental\nuneasiness. Reflective thinking is always more or less troublesome\nbecause it involves overcoming the inertia that inclines one to accept\nsuggestions at their face value; it involves willingness to endure a\ncondition of mental unrest and disturbance. Reflective thinking, in\nshort, means judgment suspended during further inquiry; and suspense is\nlikely to be somewhat painful. As we shall see later, the most important\nfactor in the training of good mental habits consists in acquiring the\nattitude of suspended conclusion, and in mastering the various methods\nof searching for new materials to corroborate or to refute the first\nsuggestions that occur. To maintain the state of doubt and to carry on\nsystematic and protracted inquiry--these are the essentials of\nthinking.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER TWO\n\nTHE NEED FOR TRAINING THOUGHT\n\n\n[Sidenote: Man the animal that thinks]\n\nTo expatiate upon the importance of thought would be absurd. The\ntraditional definition of man as \"the thinking animal\" fixes thought as\nthe essential difference between man and the brutes,--surely an\nimportant matter. More relevant to our purpose is the question how\nthought is important, for an answer to this question will throw light\nupon the kind of training thought requires if it is to subserve its end.\n\n\nSec. 1. _The Values of Thought_\n\n[Sidenote: The possibility of deliberate and intentional activity]\n\nI. Thought affords the sole method of escape from purely impulsive or\npurely routine action. A being without capacity for thought is moved\nonly by instincts and appetites, as these are called forth by outward\nconditions and by the inner state of the organism. A being thus moved\nis, as it were, pushed from behind. This is what we mean by the blind\nnature of brute actions. The agent does not see or foresee the end for\nwhich he is acting, nor the results produced by his behaving in one way\nrather than in another. He does not \"know what he is about.\" Where there\nis thought, things present act as signs or tokens of things not yet\nexperienced. A thinking being can, accordingly, _act on the basis of the\nabsent and the future_. Instead of being pushed into a mode of action by\nthe sheer urgency of forces, whether instincts or habits, of which he\nis not aware, a reflective agent is drawn (to some extent at least) to\naction by some remoter object of which he is indirectly aware.\n\n[Sidenote: Natural events come to be a language]\n\nAn animal without thought may go into its hole when rain threatens,\nbecause of some immediate stimulus to its organism. A thinking agent\nwill perceive that certain given facts are probable signs of a future\nrain, and will take steps in the light of this anticipated future. To\nplant seeds, to cultivate the soil, to harvest grain, are intentional\nacts, possible only to a being who has learned to subordinate the\nimmediately felt elements of an experience to those values which these\nhint at and prophesy. Philosophers have made much of the phrases \"book\nof nature,\" \"language of nature.\" Well, it is in virtue of the capacity\nof thought that given things are significant of absent things, and that\nnature speaks a language which may be interpreted. To a being who\nthinks, things are records of their past, as fossils tell of the prior\nhistory of the earth, and are prophetic of their future, as from the\npresent positions of heavenly bodies remote eclipses are foretold.\nShakespeare's \"tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,\" expresses\nliterally enough the power superadded to existences when they appeal to\na thinking being. Upon the function of signification depend all\nforesight, all intelligent planning, deliberation, and calculation.\n\n[Sidenote: The possibility of systematized foresight]\n\nII. By thought man also develops and arranges artificial signs to remind\nhim in advance of consequences, and of ways of securing and avoiding\nthem. As the trait just mentioned makes the difference between savage\nman and brute, so this trait makes the difference between civilized man\nand savage. A savage who has been shipwrecked in a river may note\ncertain things which serve him as signs of danger in the future. But\ncivilized man deliberately _makes_ such signs; he sets up in advance of\nwreckage warning buoys, and builds lighthouses where he sees signs that\nsuch events may occur. A savage reads weather signs with great\nexpertness; civilized man institutes a weather service by which signs\nare artificially secured and information is distributed in advance of\nthe appearance of any signs that could be detected without special\nmethods. A savage finds his way skillfully through a wilderness by\nreading certain obscure indications; civilized man builds a highway\nwhich shows the road to all. The savage learns to detect the signs of\nfire and thereby to invent methods of producing flame; civilized man\ninvents permanent conditions for producing light and heat whenever they\nare needed. The very essence of civilized culture is that we\ndeliberately erect monuments and memorials, lest we forget; and\ndeliberately institute, in advance of the happening of various\ncontingencies and emergencies of life, devices for detecting their\napproach and registering their nature, for warding off what is\nunfavorable, or at least for protecting ourselves from its full impact\nand for making more secure and extensive what is favorable. All forms of\nartificial apparatus are intentionally designed modifications of natural\nthings in order that they may serve better than in their natural estate\nto indicate the hidden, the absent, and the remote.\n\n[Sidenote: The possibility of objects rich in quality]\n\nIII. Finally, thought confers upon physical events and objects a very\ndifferent status and value from that which they possess to a being that\ndoes not reflect. These words are mere scratches, curious variations of\nlight and shade, to one to whom they are not linguistic signs. To him\nfor whom they are signs of other things, each has a definite\nindividuality of its own, according to the meaning that it is used to\nconvey. _Exactly the same holds of natural objects._ A chair is a\ndifferent object to a being to whom it consciously suggests an\nopportunity for sitting down, repose, or sociable converse, from what it\nis to one to whom it presents itself merely as a thing to be smelled, or\ngnawed, or jumped over; a stone is different to one who knows something\nof its past history and its future use from what it is to one who only\nfeels it directly through his senses. It is only by courtesy, indeed,\nthat we can say that an unthinking animal experiences an _object_ at\nall--so largely is anything that presents itself to us as an object made\nup by the qualities it possesses as a sign of other things.\n\n[Sidenote: The nature of the objects an animal perceives]\n\nAn English logician (Mr. Venn) has remarked that it may be questioned\nwhether a dog _sees_ a rainbow any more than he apprehends the political\nconstitution of the country in which he lives. The same principle\napplies to the kennel in which he sleeps and the meat that he eats. When\nhe is sleepy, he goes to the kennel; when he is hungry, he is excited by\nthe smell and color of meat; beyond this, in what sense does he see an\n_object_? Certainly he does not see a house--_i.e._ a thing with all the\nproperties and relations of a permanent residence, _unless_ he is\ncapable of making what is present a uniform sign of what is\nabsent--unless he is capable of thought. Nor does he see what he eats\n_as_ meat unless it suggests the absent properties by virtue of which it\nis a certain joint of some animal, and is known to afford nourishment.\nJust what is left of an _object_ stripped of all such qualities of\nmeaning, we cannot well say; but we can be sure that the object is then\na very different sort of thing from the objects that we perceive. There\nis moreover no particular limit to the possibilities of growth in the\nfusion of a thing as it is to sense and as it is to thought, or as a\nsign of other things. The child today soon regards as constituent parts\nof objects qualities that once it required the intelligence of a\nCopernicus or a Newton to apprehend.\n\n[Sidenote: Mill on the business of life and the occupation of mind]\n\nThese various values of the power of thought may be summed up in the\nfollowing quotation from John Stuart Mill. \"To draw inferences,\" he\nsays, \"has been said to be the great business of life. Every one has\ndaily, hourly, and momentary need of ascertaining facts which he has not\ndirectly observed: not from any general purpose of adding to his stock\nof knowledge, but because the facts themselves are of importance to his\ninterests or to his occupations. The business of the magistrate, of the\nmilitary commander, of the navigator, of the physician, of the\nagriculturist, _is merely to judge of evidence and to act\naccordingly_.... As they do this well or ill, so they discharge well or\nill the duties of their several callings. _It is the only occupation in\nwhich the mind never ceases to be engaged._\"[3]\n\n    [3] Mill, _System of Logic_, Introduction, Sec. 5.\n\n\nSec. 2. _Importance of Direction in order to Realize these Values_\n\n[Sidenote: Thinking goes astray]\n\nWhat a person has not only daily and hourly, but momentary need of\nperforming, is not a technical and abstruse matter; nor, on the other\nhand, is it trivial and negligible. Such a function must be congenial to\nthe mind, and must be performed, in an unspoiled mind, upon every\nfitting occasion. Just because, however, it is an operation of drawing\ninferences, of basing conclusions upon evidence, of reaching belief\n_indirectly_, it is an operation that may go wrong as well as right,\nand hence is one that needs safeguarding and training. The greater its\nimportance the greater are the evils when it is ill-exercised.\n\n[Sidenote: Ideas are our rulers--for better or for worse]\n\nAn earlier writer than Mill, John Locke (1632-1704), brings out the\nimportance of thought for life and the need of training so that its best\nand not its worst possibilities will be realized, in the following\nwords: \"No man ever sets himself about anything but upon some view or\nother, which serves him for a reason for what he does; and whatsoever\nfaculties he employs, the understanding with such light as it has, well\nor ill informed, constantly leads; and by that light, true or false, all\nhis operative powers are directed.... Temples have their sacred images,\nand we see what influence they have always had over a great part of\nmankind. But in truth the ideas and images in men's minds are the\ninvisible powers that constantly govern them, and to these they all,\nuniversally, pay a ready submission. It is therefore of the highest\nconcernment that great care should be taken of the understanding, to\nconduct it aright in the search of knowledge and in the judgments it\nmakes.\"[4] If upon thought hang all deliberate activities and the uses\nwe make of all our other powers, Locke's assertion that it is of the\nhighest concernment that care should be taken of its conduct is a\nmoderate statement. While the power of thought frees us from servile\nsubjection to instinct, appetite, and routine, it also brings with it\nthe occasion and possibility of error and mistake. In elevating us above\nthe brute, it opens to us the possibility of failures to which the\nanimal, limited to instinct, cannot sink.\n\n    [4] Locke, _Of the Conduct of the Understanding_, first paragraph.\n\n\nSec. 3. _Tendencies Needing Constant Regulation_\n\n[Sidenote: Physical and social sanctions of correct thinking]\n\nUp to a certain point, the ordinary conditions of life, natural and\nsocial, provide the conditions requisite for regulating the operations\nof inference. The necessities of life enforce a fundamental and\npersistent discipline for which the most cunningly devised artifices\nwould be ineffective substitutes. The burnt child dreads the fire; the\npainful consequence emphasizes the need of correct inference much more\nthan would learned discourse on the properties of heat. Social\nconditions also put a premium on correct inferring in matters where\naction based on valid thought is socially important. These sanctions of\nproper thinking may affect life itself, or at least a life reasonably\nfree from perpetual discomfort. The signs of enemies, of shelter, of\nfood, of the main social conditions, have to be correctly apprehended.\n\n[Sidenote: The serious limitations of such sanctions]\n\nBut this disciplinary training, efficacious as it is within certain\nlimits, does not carry us beyond a restricted boundary. Logical\nattainment in one direction is no bar to extravagant conclusions in\nanother. A savage expert in judging signs of the movements and location\nof animals that he hunts, will accept and gravely narrate the most\npreposterous yarns concerning the origin of their habits and structures.\nWhen there is no directly appreciable reaction of the inference upon the\nsecurity and prosperity of life, there are no natural checks to the\nacceptance of wrong beliefs. Conclusions may be generated by a modicum\nof fact merely because the suggestions are vivid and interesting; a\nlarge accumulation of data may fail to suggest a proper conclusion\nbecause existing customs are averse to entertaining it. Independent of\ntraining, there is a \"primitive credulity\" which tends to make no\ndistinction between what a trained mind calls fancy and that which it\ncalls a reasonable conclusion. The face in the clouds is believed in as\nsome sort of fact, merely because it is forcibly suggested. Natural\nintelligence is no barrier to the propagation of error, nor large but\nuntrained experience to the accumulation of fixed false beliefs. Errors\nmay support one another mutually and weave an ever larger and firmer\nfabric of misconception. Dreams, the positions of stars, the lines of\nthe hand, may be regarded as valuable signs, and the fall of cards as an\ninevitable omen, while natural events of the most crucial significance\ngo disregarded. Beliefs in portents of various kinds, now mere nook and\ncranny superstitions, were once universal. A long discipline in exact\nscience was required for their conquest.\n\n[Sidenote: Superstition as natural a result as science]\n\nIn the mere function of suggestion, there is no difference between the\npower of a column of mercury to portend rain, and that of the entrails\nof an animal or the flight of birds to foretell the fortunes of war. For\nall anybody can tell in advance, the spilling of salt is as likely to\nimport bad luck as the bite of a mosquito to import malaria. Only\nsystematic regulation of the conditions under which observations are\nmade and severe discipline of the habits of entertaining suggestions can\nsecure a decision that one type of belief is vicious and the other\nsound. The substitution of scientific for superstitious habits of\ninference has not been brought about by any improvement in the acuteness\nof the senses or in the natural workings of the function of suggestion.\nIt is the result of regulation _of the conditions_ under which\nobservation and inference take place.\n\n[Sidenote: General causes of bad thinking: Bacon's \"idols\"]\n\nIt is instructive to note some of the attempts that have been made to\nclassify the main sources of error in reaching beliefs. Francis Bacon,\nfor example, at the beginnings of modern scientific inquiry, enumerated\nfour such classes, under the somewhat fantastic title of \"idols\" (Gr.\n[Greek: eidola], images), spectral forms that allure the mind into false\npaths. These he called the idols, or phantoms, of the (_a_) tribe, (_b_)\nthe marketplace, (_c_) the cave or den, and (_d_) the theater; or, less\nmetaphorically, (_a_) standing erroneous methods (or at least\ntemptations to error) that have their roots in human nature generally;\n(_b_) those that come from intercourse and language; (_c_) those that\nare due to causes peculiar to a specific individual; and finally, (_d_)\nthose that have their sources in the fashion or general current of a\nperiod. Classifying these causes of fallacious belief somewhat\ndifferently, we may say that two are intrinsic and two are extrinsic. Of\nthe intrinsic, one is common to all men alike (such as the universal\ntendency to notice instances that corroborate a favorite belief more\nreadily than those that contradict it), while the other resides in the\nspecific temperament and habits of the given individual. Of the\nextrinsic, one proceeds from generic social conditions--like the\ntendency to suppose that there is a fact wherever there is a word, and\nno fact where there is no linguistic term--while the other proceeds from\nlocal and temporary social currents.\n\n[Sidenote: Locke on the influence of]\n\nLocke's method of dealing with typical forms of wrong belief is less\nformal and may be more enlightening. We can hardly do better than quote\nhis forcible and quaint language, when, enumerating different classes of\nmen, he shows different ways in which thought goes wrong:\n\n[Sidenote: (_a_) dependence on others,]\n\n1. \"The first is of those who seldom reason at all, but do and think\naccording to the example of others, whether parents, neighbors,\nministers, or who else they are pleased to make choice of to have an\nimplicit faith in, for the saving of themselves the pains and troubles\nof thinking and examining for themselves.\"\n\n[Sidenote: (_b_) self-interest,]\n\n2. \"This kind is of those who put passion in the place of reason, and\nbeing resolved that shall govern their actions and arguments, neither\nuse their own, nor hearken to other people's reason, any farther than it\nsuits their humor, interest, or party.\"[5]\n\n    [5] In another place he says: \"Men's prejudices and inclinations\n    impose often upon themselves.... Inclination suggests and slides\n    into discourse favorable terms, which introduce favorable ideas;\n    till at last by this means that is concluded clear and evident, thus\n    dressed up, which, taken in its native state, by making use of none\n    but precise determined ideas, would find no admittance at all.\"\n\n[Sidenote: (_c_) circumscribed experience]\n\n3. \"The third sort is of those who readily and sincerely follow reason,\nbut for want of having that which one may call large, sound, roundabout\nsense, have not a full view of all that relates to the question.... They\nconverse but with one sort of men, they read but one sort of books, they\nwill not come in the hearing but of one sort of notions.... They have a\npretty traffic with known correspondents in some little creek ... but\nwill not venture out into the great ocean of knowledge.\" Men of\noriginally equal natural parts may finally arrive at very different\nstores of knowledge and truth, \"when all the odds between them has been\nthe different scope that has been given to their understandings to range\nin, for the gathering up of information and furnishing their heads with\nideas and notions and observations, whereon to employ their mind.\"[6]\n\n    [6] _The Conduct of the Understanding_, Sec. 3.\n\nIn another portion of his writings,[7] Locke states the same ideas in\nslightly different form.\n\n    [7] _Essay Concerning Human Understanding_, bk. IV, ch. XX, \"Of\n    Wrong Assent or Error.\"\n\n[Sidenote: Effect of dogmatic principles,]\n\n1. \"That which is inconsistent with our _principles_ is so far from\npassing for probable with us that it will not be allowed possible. The\nreverence borne to these principles is so great, and their authority so\nparamount to all other, that the testimony, not only of other men, but\nthe evidence of our own senses are often rejected, when they offer to\nvouch anything contrary to these _established rules_.... There is\nnothing more ordinary than children's receiving into their minds\npropositions ... from their parents, nurses, or those about them; which\nbeing insinuated in their unwary as well as unbiased understandings, and\nfastened by degrees, are at last (and this whether true or false)\nriveted there by long custom and education, beyond all possibility of\nbeing pulled out again. For men, when they are grown up, reflecting upon\ntheir opinions and finding those of this sort to be as ancient in their\nminds as their very memories, not having observed their early\ninsinuation, nor by what means they got them, they are apt to reverence\nthem as sacred things, and not to suffer them to be profaned, touched,\nor questioned.\" They take them as standards \"to be the great and\nunerring deciders of truth and falsehood, and the judges to which they\nare to appeal in all manner of controversies.\"\n\n[Sidenote: of closed minds,]\n\n2. \"Secondly, next to these are men whose understandings are cast into a\nmold, and fashioned just to the size of a received hypothesis.\" Such\nmen, Locke goes on to say, while not denying the existence of facts and\nevidence, cannot be convinced by the evidence that would decide them if\ntheir minds were not so closed by adherence to fixed belief.\n\n[Sidenote: of strong passion,]\n\n3. \"Predominant Passions. Thirdly, probabilities which cross men's\nappetites and prevailing passions run the same fate. Let ever so much\nprobability hang on one side of a covetous man's reasoning, and money on\nthe other, it is easy to foresee which will outweigh. Earthly minds,\nlike mud walls, resist the strongest batteries.\n\n[Sidenote: of dependence upon authority of others]\n\n4. \"Authority. The fourth and last wrong measure of probability I shall\ntake notice of, and which keeps in ignorance or error more people than\nall the others together, is the giving up our assent to the common\nreceived opinions, either of our friends or party, neighborhood or\ncountry.\"\n\n[Sidenote: Causes of bad mental habits are social as well as inborn]\n\nBoth Bacon and Locke make it evident that over and above the sources of\nmisbelief that reside in the natural tendencies of the individual (like\nthose toward hasty and too far-reaching conclusions), social conditions\ntend to instigate and confirm wrong habits of thinking by authority, by\nconscious instruction, and by the even more insidious half-conscious\ninfluences of language, imitation, sympathy, and suggestion. Education\nhas accordingly not only to safeguard an individual against the\nbesetting erroneous tendencies of his own mind--its rashness,\npresumption, and preference of what chimes with self-interest to\nobjective evidence--but also to undermine and destroy the accumulated\nand self-perpetuating prejudices of long ages. When social life in\ngeneral has become more reasonable, more imbued with rational\nconviction, and less moved by stiff authority and blind passion,\neducational agencies may be more positive and constructive than at\npresent, for they will work in harmony with the educative influence\nexercised willy-nilly by other social surroundings upon an individual's\nhabits of thought and belief. At present, the work of teaching must not\nonly transform natural tendencies into trained habits of thought, but\nmust also fortify the mind against irrational tendencies current in the\nsocial environment, and help displace erroneous habits already produced.\n\n\nSec. 4. _Regulation Transforms Inference into Proof_\n\n[Sidenote: A leap is involved in all thinking]\n\nThinking is important because, as we have seen, it is that function in\nwhich given or ascertained facts stand for or indicate others which are\nnot directly ascertained. But the process of reaching the absent from\nthe present is peculiarly exposed to error; it is liable to be\ninfluenced by almost any number of unseen and unconsidered causes,--past\nexperience, received dogmas, the stirring of self-interest, the arousing\nof passion, sheer mental laziness, a social environment steeped in\nbiased traditions or animated by false expectations, and so on. The\nexercise of thought is, in the literal sense of that word, _inference_;\nby it one thing _carries us over_ to the idea of, and belief in, another\nthing. It involves a jump, a leap, a going beyond what is surely known\nto something else accepted on its warrant. Unless one is an idiot, one\nsimply cannot help having all things and events suggest other things not\nactually present, nor can one help a tendency to believe in the latter\non the basis of the former. The very inevitableness of the jump, the\nleap, to something unknown, only emphasizes the necessity of attention\nto the conditions under which it occurs so that the danger of a false\nstep may be lessened and the probability of a right landing increased.\n\n[Sidenote: Hence, the need of regulation which, when adequate, makes\nproof]\n\nSuch attention consists in regulation (1) of the conditions under which\nthe function of suggestion takes place, and (2) of the conditions under\nwhich credence is yielded to the suggestions that occur. Inference\ncontrolled in these two ways (the study of which in detail constitutes\none of the chief objects of this book) forms _proof_. To prove a thing\nmeans primarily to try, to test it. The guest bidden to the wedding\nfeast excused himself because he had to _prove_ his oxen. Exceptions are\nsaid to prove a rule; _i.e._ they furnish instances so extreme that they\ntry in the severest fashion its applicability; if the rule will stand\nsuch a test, there is no good reason for further doubting it. Not until\na thing has been tried--\"tried out,\" in colloquial language--do we know\nits true worth. Till then it may be pretense, a bluff. But the thing\nthat has come out victorious in a test or trial of strength carries its\ncredentials with it; it is approved, because it has been proved. Its\nvalue is clearly evinced, shown, _i.e._ demonstrated. So it is with\ninferences. The mere fact that inference in general is an invaluable\nfunction does not guarantee, nor does it even help out the correctness\nof any particular inference. Any inference may go astray; and as we have\nseen, there are standing influences ever ready to assist its going\nwrong. _What is important, is that every inference shall be a tested\ninference_; _or_ (since often this is not possible) _that we shall\ndiscriminate between beliefs that rest upon tested evidence and those\nthat do not, and shall be accordingly on our guard as to the kind and\ndegree of assent yielded_.\n\n[Sidenote: The office of education in forming skilled]\n\n[Sidenote: powers of thinking]\n\nWhile it is not the business of education to prove every statement made,\nany more than to teach every possible item of information, it is its\nbusiness to cultivate deep-seated and effective habits of\ndiscriminating tested beliefs from mere assertions, guesses, and\nopinions; to develop a lively, sincere, and open-minded preference for\nconclusions that are properly grounded, and to ingrain into the\nindividual's working habits methods of inquiry and reasoning appropriate\nto the various problems that present themselves. No matter how much an\nindividual knows as a matter of hearsay and information, if he has not\nattitudes and habits of this sort, he is not intellectually educated. He\nlacks the rudiments of mental discipline. And since these habits are not\na gift of nature (no matter how strong the aptitude for acquiring them);\nsince, moreover, the casual circumstances of the natural and social\nenvironment are not enough to compel their acquisition, the main office\nof education is to supply conditions that make for their cultivation.\nThe formation of these habits is the Training of Mind.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER THREE\n\nNATURAL RESOURCES IN THE TRAINING OF THOUGHT\n\n\n[Sidenote: Only native powers can be trained.]\n\nIn the last chapter we considered the need of transforming, through\ntraining, the natural capacities of inference into habits of critical\nexamination and inquiry. The very importance of thought for life makes\nnecessary its control by education because of its natural tendency to go\nastray, and because social influences exist that tend to form habits of\nthought leading to inadequate and erroneous beliefs. Training must,\nhowever, be itself based upon the natural tendencies,--that is, it must\nfind its point of departure in them. A being who could not think without\ntraining could never be trained to think; one may have to learn to think\n_well_, but not to _think_. Training, in short, must fall back upon the\nprior and independent existence of natural powers; it is concerned with\ntheir proper direction, not with creating them.\n\n[Sidenote: Hence, the one taught must take the initiative]\n\nTeaching and learning are correlative or corresponding processes, as\nmuch so as selling and buying. One might as well say he has sold when no\none has bought, as to say that he has taught when no one has learned.\nAnd in the educational transaction, the initiative lies with the learner\neven more than in commerce it lies with the buyer. If an individual can\nlearn to think only in the sense of learning to employ more economically\nand effectively powers he already possesses, even more truly one can\nteach others to think only in the sense of appealing to and fostering\npowers already active in them. Effective appeal of this kind is\nimpossible unless the teacher has an insight into existing habits and\ntendencies, the natural resources with which he has to ally himself.\n\n[Sidenote: Three important natural resources]\n\nAny inventory of the items of this natural capital is somewhat arbitrary\nbecause it must pass over many of the complex details. But a statement\nof the factors essential to thought will put before us in outline the\nmain elements. Thinking involves (as we have seen) the suggestion of a\nconclusion for acceptance, and also search or inquiry to test the value\nof the suggestion before finally accepting it. This implies (_a_) a\ncertain fund or store of experiences and facts from which suggestions\nproceed; (_b_) promptness, flexibility, and fertility of suggestions;\nand (_c_) orderliness, consecutiveness, appropriateness in what is\nsuggested. Clearly, a person may be hampered in any of these three\nregards: His thinking may be irrelevant, narrow, or crude because he has\nnot enough actual material upon which to base conclusions; or because\nconcrete facts and raw material, even if extensive and bulky, fail to\nevoke suggestions easily and richly; or finally, because, even when\nthese two conditions are fulfilled, the ideas suggested are incoherent\nand fantastic, rather than pertinent and consistent.\n\n\nSec. 1. _Curiosity_\n\n[Sidenote: Desire for fullness of experience:]\n\nThe most vital and significant factor in supplying the primary material\nwhence suggestion may issue is, without doubt, curiosity. The wisest of\nthe Greeks used to say that wonder is the mother of all science. An\ninert mind waits, as it were, for experiences to be imperiously forced\nupon it. The pregnant saying of Wordsworth:\n\n    \"The eye--it cannot choose but see;\n     We cannot bid the ear be still;\n     Our bodies feel, where'er they be,\n     Against or with our will\"--\n\nholds good in the degree in which one is naturally possessed by\ncuriosity. The curious mind is constantly alert and exploring, seeking\nmaterial for thought, as a vigorous and healthy body is on the _qui\nvive_ for nutriment. Eagerness for experience, for new and varied\ncontacts, is found where wonder is found. Such curiosity is the only\nsure guarantee of the acquisition of the primary facts upon which\ninference must base itself.\n\n[Sidenote: (_a_) physical]\n\n(_a_) In its first manifestations, curiosity is a vital overflow, an\nexpression of an abundant organic energy. A physiological uneasiness\nleads a child to be \"into everything,\"--to be reaching, poking,\npounding, prying. Observers of animals have noted what one author calls\n\"their inveterate tendency to fool.\" \"Rats run about, smell, dig, or\ngnaw, without real reference to the business in hand. In the same way\nJack [a dog] scrabbles and jumps, the kitten wanders and picks, the\notter slips about everywhere like ground lightning, the elephant fumbles\nceaselessly, the monkey pulls things about.\"[8] The most casual notice\nof the activities of a young child reveals a ceaseless display of\nexploring and testing activity. Objects are sucked, fingered, and\nthumped; drawn and pushed, handled and thrown; in short, experimented\nwith, till they cease to yield new qualities. Such activities are hardly\nintellectual, and yet without them intellectual activity would be feeble\nand intermittent through lack of stuff for its operations.\n\n    [8] Hobhouse, _Mind in Evolution_, p. 195.\n\n[Sidenote: (_b_) social]\n\n(_b_) A higher stage of curiosity develops under the influence of social\nstimuli. When the child learns that he can appeal to others to eke out\nhis store of experiences, so that, if objects fail to respond\ninterestingly to his experiments, he may call upon persons to provide\ninteresting material, a new epoch sets in. \"What is that?\" \"Why?\" become\nthe unfailing signs of a child's presence. At first this questioning is\nhardly more than a projection into social relations of the physical\noverflow which earlier kept the child pushing and pulling, opening and\nshutting. He asks in succession what holds up the house, what holds up\nthe soil that holds the house, what holds up the earth that holds the\nsoil; but his questions are not evidence of any genuine consciousness of\nrational connections. His _why_ is not a demand for scientific\nexplanation; the motive behind it is simply eagerness for a larger\nacquaintance with the mysterious world in which he is placed. The search\nis not for a law or principle, but only for a bigger fact. Yet there is\nmore than a desire to accumulate just information or heap up\ndisconnected items, although sometimes the interrogating habit threatens\nto degenerate into a mere disease of language. In the feeling, however\ndim, that the facts which directly meet the senses are not the whole\nstory, that there is more behind them and more to come from them, lies\nthe germ of _intellectual_ curiosity.\n\n[Sidenote: (_c_) intellectual]\n\n(_c_) Curiosity rises above the organic and the social planes and\nbecomes intellectual in the degree in which it is transformed into\ninterest in _problems_ provoked by the observation of things and the\naccumulation of material. When the question is not discharged by being\nasked of another, when the child continues to entertain it in his own\nmind and to be alert for whatever will help answer it, curiosity has\nbecome a positive intellectual force. To the open mind, nature and\nsocial experience are full of varied and subtle challenges to look\nfurther. If germinating powers are not used and cultivated at the right\nmoment, they tend to be transitory, to die out, or to wane in intensity.\nThis general law is peculiarly true of sensitiveness to what is\nuncertain and questionable; in a few people, intellectual curiosity is\nso insatiable that nothing will discourage it, but in most its edge is\neasily dulled and blunted. Bacon's saying that we must become as little\nchildren in order to enter the kingdom of science is at once a reminder\nof the open-minded and flexible wonder of childhood and of the ease with\nwhich this endowment is lost. Some lose it in indifference or\ncarelessness; others in a frivolous flippancy; many escape these evils\nonly to become incased in a hard dogmatism which is equally fatal to the\nspirit of wonder. Some are so taken up with routine as to be\ninaccessible to new facts and problems. Others retain curiosity only\nwith reference to what concerns their personal advantage in their chosen\ncareer. With many, curiosity is arrested on the plane of interest in\nlocal gossip and in the fortunes of their neighbors; indeed, so usual is\nthis result that very often the first association with the word\n_curiosity_ is a prying inquisitiveness into other people's business.\nWith respect then to curiosity, the teacher has usually more to learn\nthan to teach. Rarely can he aspire to the office of kindling or even\nincreasing it. His task is rather to keep alive the sacred spark of\nwonder and to fan the flame that already glows. His problem is to\nprotect the spirit of inquiry, to keep it from becoming blase from\noverexcitement, wooden from routine, fossilized through dogmatic\ninstruction, or dissipated by random exercise upon trivial things.\n\n\nSec. 2. _Suggestion_\n\nOut of the subject-matter, whether rich or scanty, important or trivial,\nof present experience issue suggestions, ideas, beliefs as to what is\nnot yet given. The function of suggestion is not one that can be\nproduced by teaching; while it may be modified for better or worse by\nconditions, it cannot be destroyed. Many a child has tried his best to\nsee if he could not \"stop thinking,\" but the flow of suggestions goes on\nin spite of our will, quite as surely as \"our bodies feel, where'er they\nbe, against or with our will.\" Primarily, naturally, it is not we who\nthink, in any actively responsible sense; thinking is rather something\nthat happens in us. Only so far as one has acquired control of the\nmethod in which the function of suggestion occurs and has accepted\nresponsibility for its consequences, can one truthfully say, \"_I_ think\nso and so.\"\n\n[Sidenote: The dimensions of suggestion:]\n\n[Sidenote: (_a_) ease]\n\nThe function of suggestion has a variety of aspects (or dimensions as we\nmay term them), varying in different persons, both in themselves and in\ntheir mode of combination. These dimensions are ease or promptness,\nextent or variety, and depth or persistence. (_a_) The common\nclassification of persons into the dull and the bright is made primarily\non the basis of the readiness or facility with which suggestions follow\nupon the presentation of objects and upon the happening of events. As\nthe metaphor of dull and bright implies, some minds are impervious, or\nelse they absorb passively. Everything presented is lost in a drab\nmonotony that gives nothing back. But others reflect, or give back in\nvaried lights, all that strikes upon them. The dull make no response;\nthe bright flash back the fact with a changed quality. An inert or\nstupid mind requires a heavy jolt or an intense shock to move it to\nsuggestion; the bright mind is quick, is alert to react with\ninterpretation and suggestion of consequences to follow.\n\nYet the teacher is not entitled to assume stupidity or even dullness\nmerely because of irresponsiveness to school subjects or to a lesson as\npresented by text-book or teacher. The pupil labeled hopeless may react\nin quick and lively fashion when the thing-in-hand seems to him worth\nwhile, as some out-of-school sport or social affair. Indeed, the school\nsubject might move him, were it set in a different context and treated\nby a different method. A boy dull in geometry may prove quick enough\nwhen he takes up the subject in connection with manual training; the\ngirl who seems inaccessible to historical facts may respond promptly\nwhen it is a question of judging the character and deeds of people of\nher acquaintance or of fiction. Barring physical defect or disease,\nslowness and dullness in _all_ directions are comparatively rare.\n\n[Sidenote: (_b_) range]\n\n(_b_) Irrespective of the difference in persons as to the ease and\npromptness with which ideas respond to facts, there is a difference in\nthe number or range of the suggestions that occur. We speak truly, in\nsome cases, of the flood of suggestions; in others, there is but a\nslender trickle. Occasionally, slowness of outward response is due to a\ngreat variety of suggestions which check one another and lead to\nhesitation and suspense; while a lively and prompt suggestion may take\nsuch possession of the mind as to preclude the development of others.\nToo few suggestions indicate a dry and meager mental habit; when this is\njoined to great learning, there results a pedant or a Gradgrind. Such a\nperson's mind rings hard; he is likely to bore others with mere bulk of\ninformation. He contrasts with the person whom we call ripe, juicy, and\nmellow.\n\nA conclusion reached after consideration of a few alternatives may be\nformally correct, but it will not possess the fullness and richness of\nmeaning of one arrived at after comparison of a greater variety of\nalternative suggestions. On the other hand, suggestions may be too\nnumerous and too varied for the best interests of mental habit. So many\nsuggestions may rise that the person is at a loss to select among them.\nHe finds it difficult to reach any definite conclusion and wanders more\nor less helplessly among them. So much suggests itself _pro_ and _con_,\none thing leads on to another so naturally, that he finds it difficult\nto decide in practical affairs or to conclude in matters of theory.\nThere is such a thing as too much thinking, as when action is paralyzed\nby the multiplicity of views suggested by a situation. Or again, the\nvery number of suggestions may be hostile to tracing logical sequences\namong them, for it may tempt the mind away from the necessary but trying\ntask of search for real connections, into the more congenial occupation\nof embroidering upon the given facts a tissue of agreeable fancies. The\nbest mental habit involves a balance between paucity and redundancy of\nsuggestions.\n\n[Sidenote: (_c_) profundity]\n\n(_c_) _Depth._ We distinguish between people not only upon the basis of\ntheir quickness and fertility of intellectual response, but also with\nrespect to the plane upon which it occurs--the intrinsic quality of the\nresponse.\n\nOne man's thought is profound while another's is superficial; one goes\nto the roots of the matter, and another touches lightly its most\nexternal aspects. This phase of thinking is perhaps the most untaught of\nall, and the least amenable to external influence whether for\nimprovement or harm. Nevertheless, the conditions of the pupil's contact\nwith subject-matter may be such that he is compelled to come to quarters\nwith its more significant features, or such that he is encouraged to\ndeal with it upon the basis of what is trivial. The common assumptions\nthat, if the pupil only thinks, one thought is just as good for his\nmental discipline as another, and that the end of study is the amassing\nof information, both tend to foster superficial, at the expense of\nsignificant, thought. Pupils who in matters of ordinary practical\nexperience have a ready and acute perception of the difference between\nthe significant and the meaningless, often reach in school subjects a\npoint where all things seem equally important or equally unimportant;\nwhere one thing is just as likely to be true as another, and where\nintellectual effort is expended not in discriminating between things,\nbut in trying to make verbal connections among words.\n\n[Sidenote: Balance of mind]\n\nSometimes slowness and depth of response are intimately connected. Time\nis required in order to digest impressions, and translate them into\nsubstantial ideas. \"Brightness\" may be but a flash in the pan. The \"slow\nbut sure\" person, whether man or child, is one in whom impressions sink\nand accumulate, so that thinking is done at a deeper level of value\nthan with a slighter load. Many a child is rebuked for \"slowness,\" for\nnot \"answering promptly,\" when his forces are taking time to gather\nthemselves together to deal effectively with the problem at hand. In\nsuch cases, failure to afford time and leisure conduce to habits of\nspeedy, but snapshot and superficial, judgment. The depth to which a\nsense of the problem, of the difficulty, sinks, determines the quality\nof the thinking that follows; and any habit of teaching which encourages\nthe pupil for the sake of a successful recitation or of a display of\nmemorized information to glide over the thin ice of genuine problems\nreverses the true method of mind training.\n\n[Sidenote: Individual differences]\n\nIt is profitable to study the lives of men and women who achieve in\nadult life fine things in their respective callings, but who were called\ndull in their school days. Sometimes the early wrong judgment was due\nmainly to the fact that the direction in which the child showed his\nability was not one recognized by the good old standards in use, as in\nthe case of Darwin's interest in beetles, snakes, and frogs. Sometimes\nit was due to the fact that the child dwelling habitually on a deeper\nplane of reflection than other pupils--or than his teachers--did not\nshow to advantage when prompt answers of the usual sort were expected.\nSometimes it was due to the fact that the pupil's natural mode of\napproach clashed habitually with that of the text or teacher, and the\nmethod of the latter was assumed as an absolute basis of estimate.\n\n[Sidenote: Any subject may be intellectual]\n\nIn any event, it is desirable that the teacher should rid himself of the\nnotion that \"thinking\" is a single, unalterable faculty; that he should\nrecognize that it is a term denoting the various ways in which things\nacquire significance. It is desirable to expel also the kindred notion\nthat some subjects are inherently \"intellectual,\" and hence possessed of\nan almost magical power to train the faculty of thought. Thinking is\nspecific, not a machine-like, ready-made apparatus to be turned\nindifferently and at will upon all subjects, as a lantern may throw its\nlight as it happens upon horses, streets, gardens, trees, or river.\nThinking is specific, in that different things suggest their own\nappropriate meanings, tell their own unique stories, and in that they do\nthis in very different ways with different persons. As the growth of the\nbody is through the assimilation of food, so the growth of mind is\nthrough the logical organization of subject-matter. Thinking is not like\na sausage machine which reduces all materials indifferently to one\nmarketable commodity, but is a power of following up and linking\ntogether the specific suggestions that specific things arouse.\nAccordingly, any subject, from Greek to cooking, and from drawing to\nmathematics, is intellectual, if intellectual at all, not in its fixed\ninner structure, but in its function--in its power to start and direct\nsignificant inquiry and reflection. What geometry does for one, the\nmanipulation of laboratory apparatus, the mastery of a musical\ncomposition, or the conduct of a business affair, may do for another.\n\n\nSec. 3. _Orderliness: Its Nature_\n\n[Sidenote: Continuity]\n\nFacts, whether narrow or extensive, and conclusions suggested by them,\nwhether many or few, do not constitute, even when combined, reflective\nthought. The suggestions must be _organized_; they must be arranged with\nreference to one another and with reference to the facts on which they\ndepend for proof. When the factors of facility, of fertility, and of\ndepth are properly balanced or proportioned, we get as the outcome\ncontinuity of thought. We desire neither the slow mind nor yet the\nhasty. We wish neither random diffuseness nor fixed rigidity.\nConsecutiveness means flexibility and variety of materials, conjoined\nwith singleness and definiteness of direction. It is opposed both to a\nmechanical routine uniformity and to a grasshopper-like movement. Of\nbright children, it is not infrequently said that \"they might do\nanything, if only they settled down,\" so quick and apt are they in any\nparticular response. But, alas, they rarely settle.\n\nOn the other hand, it is not enough _not_ to be diverted. A deadly and\nfanatic consistency is not our goal. Concentration does not mean fixity,\nnor a cramped arrest or paralysis of the flow of suggestion. It means\nvariety and change of ideas combined into a _single steady trend moving\ntoward a unified conclusion_. Thoughts are concentrated not by being\nkept still and quiescent, but by being kept moving toward an object, as\na general concentrates his troops for attack or defense. Holding the\nmind to a subject is like holding a ship to its course; it implies\nconstant change of place combined with unity of direction. Consistent\nand orderly thinking is precisely such a change of subject-matter.\nConsistency is no more the mere absence of contradiction than\nconcentration is the mere absence of diversion--which exists in dull\nroutine or in a person \"fast asleep.\" All kinds of varied and\nincompatible suggestions may sprout and be followed in their growth, and\nyet thinking be consistent and orderly, provided each one of the\nsuggestions is viewed in relation to the main topic.\n\n[Sidenote: Practical demands enforce some degree of continuity]\n\nIn the main, for most persons, the primary resource in the development\nof orderly habits of thought is indirect, not direct. Intellectual\norganization originates and for a time grows as an accompaniment of the\norganization of the acts required to realize an end, not as the result\nof a direct appeal to thinking power. The need of thinking to accomplish\nsomething beyond thinking is more potent than thinking for its own sake.\nAll people at the outset, and the majority of people probably all their\nlives, attain ordering of thought through ordering of action. Adults\nnormally carry on some occupation, profession, pursuit; and this\nfurnishes the continuous axis about which their knowledge, their\nbeliefs, and their habits of reaching and testing conclusions are\norganized. Observations that have to do with the efficient performance\nof their calling are extended and rendered precise. Information related\nto it is not merely amassed and then left in a heap; it is classified\nand subdivided so as to be available as it is needed. Inferences are\nmade by most men not from purely speculative motives, but because they\nare involved in the efficient performance of \"the duties involved in\ntheir several callings.\" Thus their inferences are constantly tested by\nresults achieved; futile and scattering methods tend to be discounted;\norderly arrangements have a premium put upon them. The event, the issue,\nstands as a constant check on the thinking that has led up to it; and\nthis discipline by efficiency in action is the chief sanction, in\npractically all who are not scientific specialists, of orderliness of\nthought.\n\nSuch a resource--the main prop of disciplined thinking in adult life--is\nnot to be despised in training the young in right intellectual habits.\nThere are, however, profound differences between the immature and the\nadult in the matter of organized activity--differences which must be\ntaken seriously into account in any educational use of activities: (_i_)\nThe external achievement resulting from activity is a more urgent\nnecessity with the adult, and hence is with him a more effective means\nof discipline of mind than with the child; (_ii_) The ends of adult\nactivity are more specialized than those of child activity.\n\n[Sidenote: Peculiar difficulty with children]\n\n(_i_) The selection and arrangement of appropriate lines of action is a\nmuch more difficult problem as respects youth than it is in the case of\nadults. With the latter, the main lines are more or less settled by\ncircumstances. The social status of the adult, the fact that he is a\ncitizen, a householder, a parent, one occupied in some regular\nindustrial or professional calling, prescribes the chief features of the\nacts to be performed, and secures, somewhat automatically, as it were,\nappropriate and related modes of thinking. But with the child there is\nno such fixity of status and pursuit; there is almost nothing to dictate\nthat such and such a consecutive line of action, rather than another,\nshould be followed, while the will of others, his own caprice, and\ncircumstances about him tend to produce an isolated momentary act. The\nabsence of continued motivation cooeperates with the inner plasticity of\nthe immature to increase the importance of educational training and the\ndifficulties in the way of finding consecutive modes of activities which\nmay do for child and youth what serious vocations and functions do for\nthe adult. In the case of children, the choice is so peculiarly exposed\nto arbitrary factors, to mere school traditions, to waves of pedagogical\nfad and fancy, to fluctuating social cross currents, that sometimes, in\nsheer disgust at the inadequacy of results, a reaction occurs to the\ntotal neglect of overt activity as an educational factor, and a recourse\nto purely theoretical subjects and methods.\n\n[Sidenote: Peculiar opportunity with children]\n\n(_ii_) This very difficulty, however, points to the fact that the\n_opportunity for selecting truly educative activities_ is indefinitely\ngreater in child life than in adult. The factor of external pressure is\nso strong with most adults that the educative value of the pursuit--its\nreflex influence upon intelligence and character--however genuine, is\nincidental, and frequently almost accidental. The problem and the\nopportunity with the young is selection of orderly and continuous modes\nof occupation, which, while they lead up to and prepare for the\nindispensable activities of adult life, have their own _sufficient\njustification in their present reflex influence upon the formation of\nhabits of thought_.\n\n[Sidenote: Action and reaction between extremes]\n\nEducational practice shows a continual tendency to oscillate between two\nextremes with respect to overt and exertive activities. One extreme is\nto neglect them almost entirely, on the ground that they are chaotic and\nfluctuating, mere diversions appealing to the transitory unformed taste\nand caprice of immature minds; or if they avoid this evil, are\nobjectionable copies of the highly specialized, and more or less\ncommercial, activities of adult life. If activities are admitted at all\ninto the school, the admission is a grudging concession to the necessity\nof having occasional relief from the strain of constant intellectual\nwork, or to the clamor of outside utilitarian demands upon the school.\nThe other extreme is an enthusiastic belief in the almost magical\neducative efficacy of any kind of activity, granted it is an activity\nand not a passive absorption of academic and theoretic material. The\nconceptions of play, of self-expression, of natural growth, are\nappealed to almost as if they meant that opportunity for any kind of\nspontaneous activity inevitably secures the due training of mental\npower; or a mythological brain physiology is appealed to as proof that\nany exercise of the muscles trains power of thought.\n\n[Sidenote: Locating the problem of education]\n\nWhile we vibrate from one of these extremes to the other, the most\nserious of all problems is ignored: the problem, namely, of discovering\nand arranging the forms of activity (_a_) which are most congenial, best\nadapted, to the immature stage of development; (_b_) which have the most\nulterior promise as preparation for the social responsibilities of adult\nlife; and (_c_) which, _at the same time_, have the maximum of influence\nin forming habits of acute observation and of consecutive inference. As\ncuriosity is related to the acquisition of material of thought, as\nsuggestion is related to flexibility and force of thought, so the\nordering of activities, not themselves primarily intellectual, is\nrelated to the forming of intellectual powers of consecutiveness.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER FOUR\n\nSCHOOL CONDITIONS AND THE TRAINING OF THOUGHT\n\n\nSec. 1. _Introductory: Methods and Conditions_\n\n[Sidenote: Formal discipline]\n\nThe so-called faculty-psychology went hand in hand with the vogue of the\nformal-discipline idea in education. If thought is a distinct piece of\nmental machinery, separate from observation, memory, imagination, and\ncommon-sense judgments of persons and things, then thought should be\ntrained by special exercises designed for the purpose, as one might\ndevise special exercises for developing the biceps muscles. Certain\nsubjects are then to be regarded as intellectual or logical subjects\n_par excellence_, possessed of a predestined fitness to exercise the\nthought-faculty, just as certain machines are better than others for\ndeveloping arm power. With these three notions goes the fourth, that\nmethod consists of a set of operations by which the machinery of thought\nis set going and kept at work upon any subject-matter.\n\n[Sidenote: versus real thinking]\n\nWe have tried to make it clear in the previous chapters that there is no\nsingle and uniform power of thought, but a multitude of different ways\nin which specific things--things observed, remembered, heard of, read\nabout--evoke suggestions or ideas that are pertinent to the occasion and\nfruitful in the sequel. Training is such development of curiosity,\nsuggestion, and habits of exploring and testing, as increases their\nscope and efficiency. A subject--any subject--is intellectual in the\ndegree in which _with any given person_ it succeeds in effecting this\ngrowth. On this view the fourth factor, method, is concerned with\nproviding conditions so adapted to individual needs and powers as to\nmake for the permanent improvement of observation, suggestion, and\ninvestigation.\n\n[Sidenote: True and false meaning of method]\n\nThe teacher's problem is thus twofold. On the one side, he needs (as we\nsaw in the last chapter) to be a student of individual traits and\nhabits; on the other side, he needs to be a student of the conditions\nthat modify for better or worse the directions in which individual\npowers habitually express themselves. He needs to recognize that method\ncovers not only what he intentionally devises and employs for the\npurpose of mental training, but also what he does without any conscious\nreference to it,--anything in the atmosphere and conduct of the school\nwhich reacts in any way upon the curiosity, the responsiveness, and the\norderly activity of children. The teacher who is an intelligent student\nboth of individual mental operations and of the effects of school\nconditions upon those operations, can largely be trusted to develop for\nhimself methods of instruction in their narrower and more technical\nsense--those best adapted to achieve results in particular subjects,\nsuch as reading, geography, or algebra. In the hands of one who is not\nintelligently aware of individual capacities and of the influence\nunconsciously exerted upon them by the entire environment, even the best\nof technical methods are likely to get an immediate result only at the\nexpense of deep-seated and persistent habits. We may group the\nconditioning influences of the school environment under three heads: (1)\nthe mental attitudes and habits of the persons with whom the child is\nin contact; (2) the subjects studied; (3) current educational aims and\nideals.\n\n\nSec. 2. _Influence of the Habits of Others_\n\nBare reference to the imitativeness of human nature is enough to suggest\nhow profoundly the mental habits of others affect the attitude of the\none being trained. Example is more potent than precept; and a teacher's\nbest conscious efforts may be more than counteracted by the influence of\npersonal traits which he is unaware of or regards as unimportant.\nMethods of instruction and discipline that are technically faulty may be\nrendered practically innocuous by the inspiration of the personal method\nthat lies back of them.\n\n[Sidenote: Response to environment fundamental in method]\n\nTo confine, however, the conditioning influence of the educator, whether\nparent or teacher, to imitation is to get a very superficial view of the\nintellectual influence of others. Imitation is but one case of a deeper\nprinciple--that of stimulus and response. _Everything the teacher does,\nas well as the manner in which he does it, incites the child to respond\nin some way or other, and each response tends to set the child's\nattitude in some way or other._ Even the inattention of the child to the\nadult is often a mode of response which is the result of unconscious\ntraining.[9] The teacher is rarely (and even then never entirely) a\ntransparent medium of access by another mind to a subject. With the\nyoung, the influence of the teacher's personality is intimately fused\nwith that of the subject; the child does not separate nor even\ndistinguish the two. And as the child's response is _toward_ or _away\nfrom_ anything presented, he keeps up a running commentary, of which he\nhimself is hardly distinctly aware, of like and dislike, of sympathy and\naversion, not merely to the acts of the teacher, but also to the subject\nwith which the teacher is occupied.\n\n    [9] A child of four or five who had been repeatedly called to the\n    house by his mother with no apparent response on his own part, was\n    asked if he did not hear her. He replied quite judicially, \"Oh, yes,\n    but she doesn't call very mad yet.\"\n\n[Sidenote: Influence of teacher's own habits]\n\n[Sidenote: Judging others by ourselves]\n\nThe extent and power of this influence upon morals and manners, upon\ncharacter, upon habits of speech and social bearing, are almost\nuniversally recognized. But the tendency to conceive of thought as an\nisolated faculty has often blinded teachers to the fact that this\ninfluence is just as real and pervasive in intellectual concerns.\nTeachers, as well as children, stick more or less to the main points,\nhave more or less wooden and rigid methods of response, and display more\nor less intellectual curiosity about matters that come up. And every\ntrait of this kind is an inevitable part of the teacher's method of\nteaching. Merely to accept without notice slipshod habits of speech,\nslovenly inferences, unimaginative and literal response, is to indorse\nthese tendencies, and to ratify them into habits--and so it goes\nthroughout the whole range of contact between teacher and student. In\nthis complex and intricate field, two or three points may well be\nsingled out for special notice. (_a_) Most persons are quite unaware of\nthe distinguishing peculiarities of their own mental habit. They take\ntheir own mental operations for granted, and unconsciously make them the\nstandard for judging the mental processes of others.[10] Hence there is\na tendency to encourage everything in the pupil which agrees with this\nattitude, and to neglect or fail to understand whatever is incongruous\nwith it. The prevalent overestimation of the value, for mind-training,\nof _theoretic_ subjects as compared with practical pursuits, is\ndoubtless due partly to the fact that the teacher's calling tends to\nselect those in whom the theoretic interest is specially strong and to\nrepel those in whom executive abilities are marked. Teachers sifted out\non this basis judge pupils and subjects by a like standard, encouraging\nan intellectual one-sidedness in those to whom it is naturally\ncongenial, and repelling from study those in whom practical instincts\nare more urgent.\n\n    [10] People who have _number-forms_--_i.e._ project number series\n    into space and see them arranged in certain shapes--when asked why\n    they have not mentioned the fact before, often reply that it never\n    occurred to them; they supposed that everybody had the same power.\n\n[Sidenote: Exaggeration of direct personal influence]\n\n(_b_) Teachers--and this holds especially of the stronger and better\nteachers--tend to rely upon their personal strong points to hold a child\nto his work, and thereby to substitute their personal influence for that\nof subject-matter as a motive for study. The teacher finds by experience\nthat his own personality is often effective where the power of the\nsubject to command attention is almost nil; then he utilizes the former\nmore and more, until the pupil's relation to the teacher almost takes\nthe place of his relation to the subject. In this way the teacher's\npersonality may become a source of personal dependence and weakness, an\ninfluence that renders the pupil indifferent to the value of the subject\nfor its own sake.\n\n[Sidenote: Independent thinking _versus_ \"getting the answer\"]\n\n(_c_) The operation of the teacher's own mental habit tends, unless\ncarefully watched and guided, to make the child a student of the\nteacher's peculiarities rather than of the subjects that he is supposed\nto study. His chief concern is to accommodate himself to what the\nteacher expects of him, rather than to devote himself energetically to\nthe problems of subject-matter. \"Is this right?\" comes to mean \"Will\nthis answer or this process satisfy the teacher?\"--instead of meaning,\n\"Does it satisfy the inherent conditions of the problem?\" It would be\nfolly to deny the legitimacy or the value of the study of human nature\nthat children carry on in school; but it is obviously undesirable that\ntheir chief intellectual problem should be that of producing an answer\napproved by the teacher, and their standard of success be successful\nadaptation to the requirements of another.\n\n\nSec. 3. _Influence of the Nature of Studies_\n\n[Sidenote: Types of studies]\n\nStudies are conventionally and conveniently grouped under these\nheads: (1) Those especially involving the acquisition of skill\nin performance--the school arts, such as reading, writing,\nfiguring, and music. (2) Those mainly concerned with acquiring\nknowledge--\"informational\" studies, such as geography and history. (3)\nThose in which skill in doing and bulk of information are relatively\nless important, and appeal to abstract thinking, to \"reasoning,\" is most\nmarked--\"disciplinary\" studies, such as arithmetic and formal\ngrammar.[11] Each of these groups of subjects has its own special\npitfalls.\n\n    [11] Of course, any one subject has all three aspects: _e.g._ in\n    arithmetic, counting, writing, and reading numbers, rapid adding,\n    etc., are cases of skill in doing; the tables of weights and\n    measures are a matter of information, etc.\n\n[Sidenote: The abstract as the isolated]\n\n(_a_) In the case of the so-called disciplinary or pre-eminently logical\nstudies, there is danger of the isolation of intellectual activity from\nthe ordinary affairs of life. Teacher and student alike tend to set up\na chasm between logical thought as something abstract and remote, and\nthe specific and concrete demands of everyday events. The abstract tends\nto become so aloof, so far away from application, as to be cut loose\nfrom practical and moral bearing. The gullibility of specialized\nscholars when out of their own lines, their extravagant habits of\ninference and speech, their ineptness in reaching conclusions in\npractical matters, their egotistical engrossment in their own subjects,\nare extreme examples of the bad effects of severing studies completely\nfrom their ordinary connections in life.\n\n[Sidenote: Overdoing the mechanical and automatic]\n\n[Sidenote: \"Drill\"]\n\n(_b_) The danger in those studies where the main emphasis is upon\nacquisition of skill is just the reverse. The tendency is to take the\nshortest cuts possible to gain the required end. This makes the subjects\n_mechanical_, and thus restrictive of intellectual power. In the mastery\nof reading, writing, drawing, laboratory technique, etc., the need of\neconomy of time and material, of neatness and accuracy, of promptness\nand uniformity, is so great that these things tend to become ends in\nthemselves, irrespective of their influence upon general mental\nattitude. Sheer imitation, dictation of steps to be taken, mechanical\ndrill, may give results most quickly and yet strengthen traits likely to\nbe fatal to reflective power. The pupil is enjoined to do this and that\nspecific thing, with no knowledge of any reason except that by so doing\nhe gets his result most speedily; his mistakes are pointed out and\ncorrected for him; he is kept at pure repetition of certain acts till\nthey become automatic. Later, teachers wonder why the pupil reads with\nso little expression, and figures with so little intelligent\nconsideration of the terms of his problem. In some educational dogmas\nand practices, the very idea of training mind seems to be hopelessly\nconfused with that of a drill which hardly touches _mind_ at all--or\ntouches it for the worse--since it is wholly taken up with training\nskill in external execution. This method reduces the \"training\" of human\nbeings to the level of animal training. Practical skill, modes of\neffective technique, can be intelligently, non-mechanically _used_, only\nwhen intelligence has played a part in their _acquisition_.\n\n[Sidenote: Wisdom _versus_ information]\n\n(_c_) Much the same sort of thing is to be said regarding studies where\nemphasis traditionally falls upon bulk and accuracy of information. The\ndistinction between information and wisdom is old, and yet requires\nconstantly to be redrawn. Information is knowledge which is merely\nacquired and stored up; wisdom is knowledge operating in the direction\nof powers to the better living of life. Information, merely as\ninformation, implies no special training of intellectual capacity;\nwisdom is the finest fruit of that training. In school, amassing\ninformation always tends to escape from the ideal of wisdom or good\njudgment. The aim often seems to be--especially in such a subject as\ngeography--to make the pupil what has been called a \"cyclopedia of\nuseless information.\" \"Covering the ground\" is the primary necessity;\nthe nurture of mind a bad second. Thinking cannot, of course, go on in a\nvacuum; suggestions and inferences can occur only upon a basis of\ninformation as to matters of fact.\n\nBut there is all the difference in the world whether the acquisition of\ninformation is treated as an end in itself, or is made an integral\nportion of the training of thought. The assumption that information\nwhich has been accumulated apart from use in the recognition and\nsolution of a problem may later on be freely employed at will by thought\nis quite false. The skill at the ready command of intelligence is the\nskill acquired with the aid of intelligence; the only information which,\notherwise than by accident, can be put to logical use is that acquired\nin the course of thinking. Because their knowledge has been achieved in\nconnection with the needs of specific situations, men of little\nbook-learning are often able to put to effective use every ounce of\nknowledge they possess; while men of vast erudition are often swamped by\nthe mere bulk of their learning, because memory, rather than thinking,\nhas been operative in obtaining it.\n\n\nSec.4. _The Influence of Current Aims and Ideals_\n\nIt is, of course, impossible to separate this somewhat intangible\ncondition from the points just dealt with; for automatic skill and\nquantity of information are educational ideals which pervade the whole\nschool. We may distinguish, however, certain tendencies, such as that to\njudge education from the standpoint of external results, instead of from\nthat of the development of personal attitudes and habits. The ideal of\nthe _product_, as against that of the mental _process_ by which the\nproduct is attained, shows itself in both instruction and moral\ndiscipline.\n\n[Sidenote: External results _versus_ processes]\n\n(_a_) In instruction, the external standard manifests itself in the\nimportance attached to the \"correct answer.\" No one other thing,\nprobably, works so fatally against focussing the attention of teachers\nupon the training of mind as the domination of _their_ minds by the idea\nthat the chief thing is to get pupils to recite their lessons\ncorrectly. As long as this end is uppermost (whether consciously or\nunconsciously), training of mind remains an incidental and secondary\nconsideration. There is no great difficulty in understanding why this\nideal has such vogue. The large number of pupils to be dealt with, and\nthe tendency of parents and school authorities to demand speedy and\ntangible evidence of progress, conspire to give it currency. Knowledge\nof subject-matter--not of children--is alone exacted of teachers by this\naim; and, moreover, knowledge of subject-matter only in portions\ndefinitely prescribed and laid out, and hence mastered with comparative\nease. Education that takes as its standard the improvement of the\nintellectual attitude and method of students demands more serious\npreparatory training, for it exacts sympathetic and intelligent insight\ninto the workings of individual minds, and a very wide and flexible\ncommand of subject-matter--so as to be able to select and apply just\nwhat is needed when it is needed. Finally, the securing of external\nresults is an aim that lends itself naturally to the mechanics of school\nadministration--to examinations, marks, gradings, promotions, and so on.\n\n[Sidenote: Reliance upon others]\n\n(_b_) With reference to behavior also, the external ideal has a great\ninfluence. Conformity of acts to precepts and rules is the easiest,\nbecause most mechanical, standard to employ. It is no part of our\npresent task to tell just how far dogmatic instruction, or strict\nadherence to custom, convention, and the commands of a social superior,\nshould extend in moral training; but since problems of conduct are the\ndeepest and most common of all the problems of life, the ways in which\nthey are met have an influence that radiates into every other mental\nattitude, even those far remote from any direct or conscious moral\nconsideration. Indeed, the _deepest plane of the mental attitude of\nevery one is fixed by the way in which problems of behavior are\ntreated_. If the function of thought, of serious inquiry and reflection,\nis reduced to a minimum in dealing with them, it is not reasonable to\nexpect habits of thought to exercise great influence in less important\nmatters. On the other hand, habits of active inquiry and careful\ndeliberation in the significant and vital problems of conduct afford the\nbest guarantee that the general structure of mind will be reasonable.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER FIVE\n\nTHE MEANS AND END OF MENTAL TRAINING: THE PSYCHOLOGICAL AND THE LOGICAL\n\n\nSec. 1. _Introductory: The Meaning of Logical_\n\n[Sidenote: Special topic of this chapter]\n\nIn the preceding chapters we have considered (_i_) what thinking is;\n(_ii_) the importance of its special training; (_iii_) the natural\ntendencies that lend themselves to its training; and (_iv_) some of the\nspecial obstacles in the way of its training under school conditions. We\ncome now to the relation of _logic_ to the purpose of mental training.\n\n[Sidenote: Three senses of term _logical_]\n\n[Sidenote: The practical is the important meaning of _logical_]\n\nIn its broadest sense, any thinking that ends in a conclusion is\nlogical--whether the conclusion reached be justified or fallacious; that\nis, the term _logical_ covers both the logically good and the illogical\nor the logically bad. In its narrowest sense, the term _logical_ refers\nonly to what is demonstrated to follow necessarily from premises that\nare definite in meaning and that are either self-evidently true, or that\nhave been previously proved to be true. Stringency of proof is here the\nequivalent of the logical. In this sense mathematics and formal logic\n(perhaps as a branch of mathematics) alone are strictly logical.\nLogical, however, is used in a third sense, which is at once more vital\nand more practical; to denote, namely, the systematic care, negative and\npositive, taken to safeguard reflection so that it may yield the best\nresults under the given conditions. If only the word _artificial_ were\nassociated with the idea of _art_, or expert skill gained through\nvoluntary apprenticeship (instead of suggesting the factitious and\nunreal), we might say that logical refers to artificial thought.\n\n[Sidenote: Care, thoroughness, and exactness the marks of the logical]\n\nIn this sense, the word _logical_ is synonymous with wide-awake,\nthorough, and careful reflection--thought in its best sense (_ante_, p.\n5). Reflection is turning a topic over in various aspects and in various\nlights so that nothing significant about it shall be overlooked--almost\nas one might turn a stone over to see what its hidden side is like or\nwhat is covered by it. _Thoughtfulness_ means, practically, the same\nthing as careful attention; to give our mind to a subject is to give\nheed to it, to take pains with it. In speaking of reflection, we\nnaturally use the words _weigh_, _ponder_, _deliberate_--terms implying\na certain delicate and scrupulous balancing of things against one\nanother. Closely related names are _scrutiny_, _examination_,\n_consideration_, _inspection_--terms which imply close and careful\nvision. Again, to think is to relate things to one another definitely,\nto \"put two and two together\" as we say. Analogy with the accuracy and\ndefiniteness of mathematical combinations gives us such expressions as\n_calculate_, _reckon_, _account for_; and even _reason_ itself--_ratio_.\nCaution, carefulness, thoroughness, definiteness, exactness,\norderliness, methodic arrangement, are, then, the traits by which we\nmark off the logical from what is random and casual on one side, and\nfrom what is academic and formal on the other.\n\n[Sidenote: Whole object of intellectual education is formation of\nlogical disposition]\n\n[Sidenote: False opposition of the logical and psychological]\n\nNo argument is needed to point out that the educator is concerned with\nthe logical in its practical and vital sense. Argument is perhaps needed\nto show that the _intellectual_ (as distinct from the _moral_) _end of\neducation is entirely and only the logical in this sense_; _namely, the\nformation of careful, alert, and thorough habits of thinking_. The chief\ndifficulty in the way of recognition of this principle is a false\nconception of the relation between the psychological tendencies of an\nindividual and his logical achievements. If it be assumed--as it is so\nfrequently--that these have, intrinsically, nothing to do with each\nother, then logical training is inevitably regarded as something foreign\nand extraneous, something to be ingrafted upon the individual from\nwithout, so that it is absurd to identify the object of education with\nthe development of logical power.\n\n[Sidenote: Opposing the _natural_ to the logical]\n\nThe conception that the psychology of individuals has no intrinsic\nconnections with logical methods and results is held, curiously enough,\nby two opposing schools of educational theory. To one school, the\n_natural_[12] is primary and fundamental; and its tendency is to make\nlittle of distinctly intellectual nurture. Its mottoes are freedom,\nself-expression, individuality, spontaneity, play, interest, natural\nunfolding, and so on. In its emphasis upon individual attitude and\nactivity, it sets slight store upon organized subject-matter, or the\nmaterial of study, and conceives _method_ to consist of various devices\nfor stimulating and evoking, in their natural order of growth, the\nnative potentialities of individuals.\n\n    [12] Denoting whatever has to do with the natural constitution and\n    functions of an individual.\n\n[Sidenote: Neglect of the innate logical resources]\n\n[Sidenote: Identification of logical with subject-matter, exclusively]\n\nThe other school estimates highly the value of the logical, but\nconceives the natural tendency of individuals to be averse, or\nat least indifferent, to logical achievement. It relies upon\n_subject-matter_--upon matter already defined and classified. Method,\nthen, has to do with the devices by which these characteristics may be\nimported into a mind naturally reluctant and rebellious. Hence its\nmottoes are discipline, instruction, restraint, voluntary or conscious\neffort, the necessity of tasks, and so on. From this point of view\nstudies, rather than attitudes and habits, embody the logical factor in\neducation. The mind becomes logical only by learning to conform to an\nexternal subject-matter. To produce this conformity, the study should\nfirst be analyzed (by text-book or teacher) into its logical elements;\nthen each of these elements should be defined; finally, all of the\nelements should be arranged in series or classes according to logical\nformulae or general principles. Then the pupil learns the definitions one\nby one; and progressively adding one to another builds up the logical\nsystem, and thereby is himself gradually imbued, from without, with\nlogical quality.\n\n[Sidenote: Illustration from geography,]\n\nThis description will gain meaning through an illustration. Suppose the\nsubject is geography. The first thing is to give its definition, marking\nit off from every other subject. Then the various abstract terms upon\nwhich depends the scientific development of the science are stated and\ndefined one by one--pole, equator, ecliptic, zone,--from the simpler\nunits to the more complex which are formed out of them; then the more\nconcrete elements are taken in similar series: continent, island, coast,\npromontory, cape, isthmus, peninsula, ocean, lake, coast, gulf, bay, and\nso on. In acquiring this material, the mind is supposed not only to gain\nimportant information, but, by accommodating itself to ready-made\nlogical definitions, generalizations, and classifications, gradually to\nacquire logical habits.\n\n[Sidenote: from drawing]\n\nThis type of method has been applied to every subject taught in the\nschools--reading, writing, music, physics, grammar, arithmetic. Drawings\nfor example, has been taught on the theory that since all pictorial\nrepresentation is a matter of combining straight and curved lines, the\nsimplest procedure is to have the pupil acquire the ability first to\ndraw straight lines in various positions (horizontal, perpendicular,\ndiagonals at various angles), then typical curves; and finally, to\ncombine straight and curved lines in various permutations to construct\nactual pictures. This seemed to give the ideal \"logical\" method,\nbeginning with analysis into elements, and then proceeding in regular\norder to more and more complex syntheses, each element being defined\nwhen used, and thereby clearly understood.\n\n[Sidenote: Formal method]\n\nEven when this method in its extreme form is not followed, few schools\n(especially of the middle or upper elementary grades) are free from an\nexaggerated attention to forms supposedly employed by the pupil if he\ngets his result logically. It is thought that there are certain steps\narranged in a certain order, which express preeminently an understanding\nof the subject, and the pupil is made to \"analyze\" his procedure into\nthese steps, _i.e._ to learn a certain routine formula of statement.\nWhile this method is usually at its height in grammar and arithmetic, it\ninvades also history and even literature, which are then reduced, under\nplea of intellectual training, to \"outlines,\" diagrams, and schemes of\ndivision and subdivision. In memorizing this simulated cut and dried\ncopy of the logic of an adult, the child generally is induced to\nstultify his own subtle and vital logical movement. The adoption by\nteachers of this misconception of logical method has probably done more\nthan anything else to bring pedagogy into disrepute; for to many persons\n\"pedagogy\" means precisely a set of mechanical, self-conscious devices\nfor replacing by some cast-iron external scheme the personal mental\nmovement of the individual.\n\n[Sidenote: Reaction toward lack of form and method]\n\nA reaction inevitably occurs from the poor results that accrue from\nthese professedly \"logical\" methods. Lack of interest in study, habits\nof inattention and procrastination, positive aversion to intellectual\napplication, dependence upon sheer memorizing and mechanical routine\nwith only a modicum of understanding by the pupil of what he is about,\nshow that the theory of logical definition, division, gradation, and\nsystem does not work out practically as it is theoretically supposed to\nwork. The consequent disposition--as in every reaction--is to go to the\nopposite extreme. The \"logical\" is thought to be wholly artificial and\nextraneous; teacher and pupil alike are to turn their backs upon it, and\nto work toward the expression of existing aptitudes and tastes. Emphasis\nupon natural tendencies and powers as the only possible starting-point\nof development is indeed wholesome. But the reaction is false, and hence\nmisleading, in what it ignores and denies: the presence of genuinely\nintellectual factors in existing powers and interests.\n\n[Sidenote: Logic of subject-matter is logic of adult or trained mind]\n\nWhat is conventionally termed logical (namely, the logical from the\nstandpoint of subject-matter) represents in truth the logic of the\ntrained adult mind. Ability to divide a subject, to define its elements,\nand to group them into classes according to general principles\nrepresents logical capacity at its best point reached _after_ thorough\ntraining. The mind that habitually exhibits skill in divisions,\ndefinitions, generalizations, and systematic recapitulations no longer\nneeds training in logical methods. But it is absurd to suppose that a\nmind which needs training because it cannot perform these operations\ncan begin where the expert mind stops. _The logical from the standpoint\nof subject-matter represents the goal, the last term of training, not\nthe point of departure._\n\n[Sidenote: The immature mind has its own logic]\n\n[Sidenote: Hence, the _psychological_ and the _logical_ represent the\ntwo ends of the same movement]\n\nIn truth, the mind at every stage of development has its own logic. The\nerror of the notion that by appeal to spontaneous tendencies and by\nmultiplication of materials we may completely dismiss logical\nconsiderations, lies in overlooking how large a part curiosity,\ninference, experimenting, and testing already play in the pupil's life.\nTherefore it underestimates the _intellectual_ factor in the more\nspontaneous play and work of individuals--the factor that alone is truly\neducative. Any teacher who is alive to the modes of thought naturally\noperative in the experience of the normal child will have no difficulty\nin avoiding the identification of the logical with a ready-made\norganization of subject-matter, as well as the notion that the only way\nto escape this error is to pay no attention to logical considerations.\nSuch a teacher will have no difficulty in seeing that the real problem\nof intellectual education is the transformation of natural powers into\nexpert, tested powers: the transformation of more or less casual\ncuriosity and sporadic suggestion into attitudes of alert, cautious, and\nthorough inquiry. He will see that the _psychological_ and the\n_logical_, instead of being opposed to each other (or even independent\nof each other), are connected _as the earlier and the later stages in\none continuous process of normal growth_. The natural or psychological\nactivities, even when not consciously controlled by logical\nconsiderations, have their own intellectual function and integrity;\nconscious and deliberate skill in thinking, when it is achieved, makes\nhabitual or second nature. The first is already logical in spirit; the\nlast, in presenting an ingrained disposition and attitude, is then as\n_psychological_ (as personal) as any caprice or chance impulse could be.\n\n\nSec. 2. _Discipline and Freedom_\n\n[Sidenote: True and false notions of discipline]\n\nDiscipline of mind is thus, in truth, a result rather than a cause. Any\nmind is disciplined in a subject in which independent intellectual\ninitiative and control have been achieved. Discipline represents\noriginal native endowment turned, through gradual exercise, into\neffective power. So far as a mind is disciplined, control of method in a\ngiven subject has been attained so that the mind is able to manage\nitself independently without external tutelage. The aim of education is\nprecisely to develop intelligence of this independent and effective\ntype--a _disciplined mind_. Discipline is positive and constructive.\n\n[Sidenote: Discipline as drill]\n\nDiscipline, however, is frequently regarded as something negative--as a\npainfully disagreeable forcing of mind away from channels congenial to\nit into channels of constraint, a process grievous at the time but\nnecessary as preparation for a more or less remote future. Discipline is\nthen generally identified with drill; and drill is conceived after the\nmechanical analogy of driving, by unremitting blows, a foreign substance\ninto a resistant material; or is imaged after the analogy of the\nmechanical routine by which raw recruits are trained to a soldierly\nbearing and habits that are naturally wholly foreign to their\npossessors. Training of this latter sort, whether it be called\ndiscipline or not, is not mental discipline. Its aim and result are not\n_habits of thinking_, but uniform _external modes of action_. By failing\nto ask what he means by discipline, many a teacher is misled into\nsupposing that he is developing mental force and efficiency by methods\nwhich in fact restrict and deaden intellectual activity, and which tend\nto create mechanical routine, or mental passivity and servility.\n\n[Sidenote: As independent power or freedom]\n\n[Sidenote: Freedom and external spontaneity]\n\nWhen discipline is conceived in intellectual terms (as the habitual\npower of effective mental attack), it is identified with freedom in its\ntrue sense. For freedom of mind means mental power capable of\nindependent exercise, emancipated from the leading strings of others,\nnot mere unhindered external operation. When spontaneity or naturalness\nis identified with more or less casual discharge of transitory impulses,\nthe tendency of the educator is to supply a multitude of stimuli in\norder that spontaneous activity may be kept up. All sorts of interesting\nmaterials, equipments, tools, modes of activity, are provided in order\nthat there may be no flagging of free self-expression. This method\noverlooks some of the essential conditions of the attainment of genuine\nfreedom.\n\n[Sidenote: Some obstacle necessary for thought]\n\n(_a_) Direct immediate discharge or expression of an impulsive tendency\nis fatal to thinking. Only when the impulse is to some extent checked\nand thrown back upon itself does reflection ensue. It is, indeed, a\nstupid error to suppose that arbitrary tasks must be imposed from\nwithout in order to furnish the factor of perplexity and difficulty\nwhich is the necessary cue to thought. Every vital activity of any depth\nand range inevitably meets obstacles in the course of its effort to\nrealize itself--a fact that renders the search for artificial or\nexternal problems quite superfluous. The difficulties that present\nthemselves within the development of an experience are, however, to be\ncherished by the educator, not minimized, for they are the natural\nstimuli to reflective inquiry. Freedom does not consist in keeping up\nuninterrupted and unimpeded external activity, but is something achieved\nthrough conquering, by personal reflection, a way out of the\ndifficulties that prevent an immediate overflow and a spontaneous\nsuccess.\n\n[Sidenote: Intellectual factors are _natural_]\n\n(_b_) The method that emphasizes the psychological and natural, but yet\nfails to see what an important part of the natural tendencies is\nconstituted at every period of growth by curiosity, inference, and the\ndesire to test, cannot secure a _natural development_. In natural growth\neach successive stage of activity prepares unconsciously, but\nthoroughly, the conditions for the manifestation of the next stage--as\nin the cycle of a plant's growth. There is no ground for assuming that\n\"thinking\" is a special, isolated natural tendency that will bloom\ninevitably in due season simply because various sense and motor\nactivities have been freely manifested before; or because observation,\nmemory, imagination, and manual skill have been previously exercised\nwithout thought. Only when thinking is constantly employed in using the\nsenses and muscles for the guidance and application of observations and\nmovements, is the way prepared for subsequent higher types of thinking.\n\n[Sidenote: Genesis of thought contemporaneous with genesis of any human\nmental activity]\n\nAt present, the notion is current that childhood is almost entirely\nunreflective--a period of mere sensory, motor, and memory development,\nwhile adolescence suddenly brings the manifestation of thought and\nreason.\n\nAdolescence is not, however, a synonym for magic. Doubtless youth should\nbring with it an enlargement of the horizon of childhood, a\nsusceptibility to larger concerns and issues, a more generous and a more\ngeneral standpoint toward nature and social life. This development\naffords an opportunity for thinking of a more comprehensive and\nabstract type than has previously obtained. But thinking itself remains\njust what it has been all the time: a matter of following up and testing\nthe conclusions suggested by the facts and events of life. Thinking\nbegins as soon as the baby who has lost the ball that he is playing with\nbegins to foresee the possibility of something not yet existing--its\nrecovery; and begins to forecast steps toward the realization of this\npossibility, and, by experimentation, to guide his acts by his ideas and\nthereby also test the ideas. Only by making the most of the\nthought-factor, already active in the experiences of childhood, is there\nany promise or warrant for the emergence of superior reflective power at\nadolescence, or at any later period.\n\n[Sidenote: Fixation of bad mental habits]\n\n(_c_) In any case _positive habits are being formed_: if not habits of\ncareful looking into things, then habits of hasty, heedless, impatient\nglancing over the surface; if not habits of consecutively following up\nthe suggestions that occur, then habits of haphazard, grasshopper-like\nguessing; if not habits of suspending judgment till inferences have been\ntested by the examination of evidence, then habits of credulity\nalternating with flippant incredulity, belief or unbelief being based,\nin either case, upon whim, emotion, or accidental circumstances. The\nonly way to achieve traits of carefulness, thoroughness, and continuity\n(traits that are, as we have seen, the elements of the \"logical\") is by\nexercising these traits from the beginning, and by seeing to it that\nconditions call for their exercise.\n\n[Sidenote: Genuine freedom is intellectual, not external]\n\nGenuine freedom, in short, is intellectual; it rests in the trained\n_power of thought_, in ability to \"turn things over,\" to look at matters\ndeliberately, to judge whether the amount and kind of evidence requisite\nfor decision is at hand, and if not, to tell where and how to seek such\nevidence. If a man's actions are not guided by thoughtful conclusions,\nthen they are guided by inconsiderate impulse, unbalanced appetite,\ncaprice, or the circumstances of the moment. To cultivate unhindered,\nunreflective external activity is to foster enslavement, for it leaves\nthe person at the mercy of appetite, sense, and circumstance.\n\n\n\n\nPART TWO: LOGICAL CONSIDERATIONS\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER SIX\n\nTHE ANALYSIS OF A COMPLETE ACT OF THOUGHT\n\n\n[Sidenote: Object of Part Two]\n\nAfter a brief consideration in the first chapter of the nature of\nreflective thinking, we turned, in the second, to the need for its\ntraining. Then we took up the resources, the difficulties, and the aim\nof its training. The purpose of this discussion was to set before the\nstudent the general problem of the training of mind. The purport of the\nsecond part, upon which we are now entering, is giving a fuller\nstatement of the nature and normal growth of thinking, preparatory to\nconsidering in the concluding part the special problems that arise in\nconnection with its education.\n\nIn this chapter we shall make an analysis of the process of thinking\ninto its steps or elementary constituents, basing the analysis upon\ndescriptions of a number of extremely simple, but genuine, cases of\nreflective experience.[13]\n\n    [13] These are taken, almost verbatim, from the class papers of\n    students.\n\n[Sidenote: A simple case of practical deliberation]\n\n1. \"The other day when I was down town on 16th Street a clock caught my\neye. I saw that the hands pointed to 12.20. This suggested that I had an\nengagement at 124th Street, at one o'clock. I reasoned that as it had\ntaken me an hour to come down on a surface car, I should probably be\ntwenty minutes late if I returned the same way. I might save twenty\nminutes by a subway express. But was there a station near? If not, I\nmight lose more than twenty minutes in looking for one. Then I thought\nof the elevated, and I saw there was such a line within two blocks. But\nwhere was the station? If it were several blocks above or below the\nstreet I was on, I should lose time instead of gaining it. My mind went\nback to the subway express as quicker than the elevated; furthermore, I\nremembered that it went nearer than the elevated to the part of 124th\nStreet I wished to reach, so that time would be saved at the end of the\njourney. I concluded in favor of the subway, and reached my destination\nby one o'clock.\"\n\n[Sidenote: A simple case of reflection upon an observation]\n\n2. \"Projecting nearly horizontally from the upper deck of the ferryboat\non which I daily cross the river, is a long white pole, bearing a gilded\nball at its tip. It suggested a flagpole when I first saw it; its color,\nshape, and gilded ball agreed with this idea, and these reasons seemed\nto justify me in this belief. But soon difficulties presented\nthemselves. The pole was nearly horizontal, an unusual position for a\nflagpole; in the next place, there was no pulley, ring, or cord by which\nto attach a flag; finally, there were elsewhere two vertical staffs from\nwhich flags were occasionally flown. It seemed probable that the pole\nwas not there for flag-flying.\n\n\"I then tried to imagine all possible purposes of such a pole, and to\nconsider for which of these it was best suited: (_a_) Possibly it was an\nornament. But as all the ferryboats and even the tugboats carried like\npoles, this hypothesis was rejected. (_b_) Possibly it was the terminal\nof a wireless telegraph. But the same considerations made this\nimprobable. Besides, the more natural place for such a terminal would be\nthe highest part of the boat, on top of the pilot house. (_c_) Its\npurpose might be to point out the direction in which the boat is moving.\n\n\"In support of this conclusion, I discovered that the pole was lower\nthan the pilot house, so that the steersman could easily see it.\nMoreover, the tip was enough higher than the base, so that, from the\npilot's position, it must appear to project far out in front of the\nboat. Moreover, the pilot being near the front of the boat, he would\nneed some such guide as to its direction. Tugboats would also need poles\nfor such a purpose. This hypothesis was so much more probable than the\nothers that I accepted it. I formed the conclusion that the pole was set\nup for the purpose of showing the pilot the direction in which the boat\npointed, to enable him to steer correctly.\"\n\n[Sidenote: A simple case of reflection involving experiment]\n\n3. \"In washing tumblers in hot soapsuds and placing them mouth downward\non a plate, bubbles appeared on the outside of the mouth of the tumblers\nand then went inside. Why? The presence of bubbles suggests air, which I\nnote must come from inside the tumbler. I see that the soapy water on\nthe plate prevents escape of the air save as it may be caught in\nbubbles. But why should air leave the tumbler? There was no substance\nentering to force it out. It must have expanded. It expands by increase\nof heat or by decrease of pressure, or by both. Could the air have\nbecome heated after the tumbler was taken from the hot suds? Clearly not\nthe air that was already entangled in the water. If heated air was the\ncause, cold air must have entered in transferring the tumblers from the\nsuds to the plate. I test to see if this supposition is true by taking\nseveral more tumblers out. Some I shake so as to make sure of entrapping\ncold air in them. Some I take out holding mouth downward in order to\nprevent cold air from entering. Bubbles appear on the outside of every\none of the former and on none of the latter. I must be right in my\ninference. Air from the outside must have been expanded by the heat of\nthe tumbler, which explains the appearance of the bubbles on the\noutside.\n\n\"But why do they then go inside? Cold contracts. The tumbler cooled and\nalso the air inside it. Tension was removed, and hence bubbles appeared\ninside. To be sure of this, I test by placing a cup of ice on the\ntumbler while the bubbles are still forming outside. They soon reverse.\"\n\n[Sidenote: The three cases form a series]\n\nThese three cases have been purposely selected so as to form a series\nfrom the more rudimentary to more complicated cases of reflection. The\nfirst illustrates the kind of thinking done by every one during the\nday's business, in which neither the data, nor the ways of dealing with\nthem, take one outside the limits of everyday experience. The last\nfurnishes a case in which neither problem nor mode of solution would\nhave been likely to occur except to one with some prior scientific\ntraining. The second case forms a natural transition; its materials lie\nwell within the bounds of everyday, unspecialized experience; but the\nproblem, instead of being directly involved in the person's business,\narises indirectly out of his activity, and accordingly appeals to a\nsomewhat theoretic and impartial interest. We shall deal, in a later\nchapter, with the evolution of abstract thinking out of that which is\nrelatively practical and direct; here we are concerned only with the\ncommon elements found in all the types.\n\n[Sidenote: Five distinct steps in reflection]\n\nUpon examination, each instance reveals, more or less clearly, five\nlogically distinct steps: (_i_) a felt difficulty; (_ii_) its location\nand definition; (_iii_) suggestion of possible solution; (_iv_)\ndevelopment by reasoning of the bearings of the suggestion; (_v_)\nfurther observation and experiment leading to its acceptance or\nrejection; that is, the conclusion of belief or disbelief.\n\n[Sidenote: 1. The occurrence of a difficulty]\n\n[Sidenote: (_a_) in the lack of adaptation of means to end]\n\n1. The first and second steps frequently fuse into one. The difficulty\nmay be felt with sufficient definiteness as to set the mind at once\nspeculating upon its probable solution, or an undefined uneasiness and\nshock may come first, leading only later to definite attempt to find out\nwhat is the matter. Whether the two steps are distinct or blended, there\nis the factor emphasized in our original account of reflection--_viz._\nthe perplexity or problem. In the first of the three cases cited, the\ndifficulty resides in the conflict between conditions at hand and a\ndesired and intended result, between an end and the means for reaching\nit. The purpose of keeping an engagement at a certain time, and the\nexisting hour taken in connection with the location, are not congruous.\nThe object of thinking is to introduce congruity between the two. The\ngiven conditions cannot themselves be altered; time will not go backward\nnor will the distance between 16th Street and 124th Street shorten\nitself. The problem is _the discovery of intervening terms which when\ninserted between the remoter end and the given means will harmonize them\nwith each other_.\n\n[Sidenote: (_b_) in identifying the character of an object]\n\nIn the second case, the difficulty experienced is the incompatibility of\na suggested and (temporarily) accepted belief that the pole is a\nflagpole, with certain other facts. Suppose we symbolize the qualities\nthat suggest _flagpole_ by the letters _a_, _b_, _c_; those that oppose\nthis suggestion by the letters _p_, _q_, _r_. There is, of course,\nnothing inconsistent in the qualities themselves; but in pulling the\nmind to different and incongruous conclusions they conflict--hence the\nproblem. Here the object is the discovery of some object (_O_), of which\n_a_, _b_, _c_, and _p_, _q_, _r_, may all be appropriate traits--just\nas, in our first case, it is to discover a course of action which will\ncombine existing conditions and a remoter result in a single whole. The\nmethod of solution is also the same: discovery of intermediate qualities\n(the position of the pilot house, of the pole, the need of an index to\nthe boat's direction) symbolized by _d_, _g_, _l_, _o_, which bind\ntogether otherwise incompatible traits.\n\n[Sidenote: (_c_) in explaining an unexpected event]\n\nIn the third case, an observer trained to the idea of natural laws or\nuniformities finds something odd or exceptional in the behavior of the\nbubbles. The problem is to reduce the apparent anomalies to instances of\nwell-established laws. Here the method of solution is also to seek for\nintermediary terms which will connect, by regular linkage, the seemingly\nextraordinary movements of the bubbles with the conditions known to\nfollow from processes supposed to be operative.\n\n[Sidenote: 2. Definition of the difficulty]\n\n2. As already noted, the first two steps, the feeling of a discrepancy,\nor difficulty, and the acts of observation that serve to define the\ncharacter of the difficulty may, in a given instance, telescope\ntogether. In cases of striking novelty or unusual perplexity, the\ndifficulty, however, is likely to present itself at first as a shock,\nas emotional disturbance, as a more or less vague feeling of the\nunexpected, of something queer, strange, funny, or disconcerting. In\nsuch instances, there are necessary observations deliberately calculated\nto bring to light just what is the trouble, or to make clear the\nspecific character of the problem. In large measure, the existence or\nnon-existence of this step makes the difference between reflection\nproper, or safeguarded _critical_ inference and uncontrolled thinking.\nWhere sufficient pains to locate the difficulty are not taken,\nsuggestions for its resolution must be more or less random. Imagine a\ndoctor called in to prescribe for a patient. The patient tells him some\nthings that are wrong; his experienced eye, at a glance, takes in other\nsigns of a certain disease. But if he permits the suggestion of this\nspecial disease to take possession prematurely of his mind, to become an\naccepted conclusion, his scientific thinking is by that much cut short.\nA large part of his technique, as a skilled practitioner, is to prevent\nthe acceptance of the first suggestions that arise; even, indeed, to\npostpone the occurrence of any very definite suggestion till the\ntrouble--the nature of the problem--has been thoroughly explored. In the\ncase of a physician this proceeding is known as diagnosis, but a similar\ninspection is required in every novel and complicated situation to\nprevent rushing to a conclusion. The essence of critical thinking is\nsuspended judgment; and the essence of this suspense is inquiry to\ndetermine the nature of the problem before proceeding to attempts at its\nsolution. This, more than any other thing, transforms mere inference\ninto tested inference, suggested conclusions into proof.\n\n[Sidenote: 3. Occurrence of a suggested explanation or possible\nsolution]\n\n3. The third factor is suggestion. The situation in which the\nperplexity occurs calls up something not present to the senses: the\npresent location, the thought of subway or elevated train; the stick\nbefore the eyes, the idea of a flagpole, an ornament, an apparatus for\nwireless telegraphy; the soap bubbles, the law of expansion of bodies\nthrough heat and of their contraction through cold. (_a_) Suggestion is\nthe very heart of inference; it involves going from what is present to\nsomething absent. Hence, it is more or less speculative, adventurous.\nSince inference goes beyond what is actually present, it involves a\nleap, a jump, the propriety of which cannot be absolutely warranted in\nadvance, no matter what precautions be taken. Its control is indirect,\non the one hand, involving the formation of habits of mind which are at\nonce enterprising and cautious; and on the other hand, involving the\nselection and arrangement of the particular facts upon perception of\nwhich suggestion issues. (_b_) The suggested conclusion so far as it is\nnot accepted but only tentatively entertained constitutes an idea.\nSynonyms for this are _supposition_, _conjecture_, _guess_,\n_hypothesis_, and (in elaborate cases) _theory_. Since suspended belief,\nor the postponement of a final conclusion pending further evidence,\ndepends partly upon the presence of rival conjectures as to the best\ncourse to pursue or the probable explanation to favor, _cultivation of a\nvariety of alternative suggestions_ is an important factor in good\nthinking.\n\n[Sidenote: 4. The rational elaboration of an idea]\n\n4. The process of developing the bearings--or, as they are more\ntechnically termed, the _implications_--of any idea with respect to any\nproblem, is termed _reasoning_.[14] As an idea is inferred from given\nfacts, so reasoning sets out from an idea. The _idea_ of elevated road\nis developed into the idea of difficulty of locating station, length of\ntime occupied on the journey, distance of station at the other end from\nplace to be reached. In the second case, the implication of a flagpole\nis seen to be a vertical position; of a wireless apparatus, location on\na high part of the ship and, moreover, absence from every casual\ntugboat; while the idea of index to direction in which the boat moves,\nwhen developed, is found to cover all the details of the case.\n\n    [14] This term is sometimes extended to denote the entire reflective\n    process--just as _inference_ (which in the sense of _test_ is best\n    reserved for the third step) is sometimes used in the same broad\n    sense. But _reasoning_ (or _ratiocination_) seems to be peculiarly\n    adapted to express what the older writers called the \"notional\" or\n    \"dialectic\" process of developing the meaning of a given idea.\n\nReasoning has the same effect upon a suggested solution as more intimate\nand extensive observation has upon the original problem. Acceptance of\nthe suggestion in its first form is prevented by looking into it more\nthoroughly. Conjectures that seem plausible at first sight are often\nfound unfit or even absurd when their full consequences are traced out.\nEven when reasoning out the bearings of a supposition does not lead to\nrejection, it develops the idea into a form in which it is more apposite\nto the problem. Only when, for example, the conjecture that a pole was\nan index-pole had been thought out into its bearings could its\nparticular applicability to the case in hand be judged. Suggestions at\nfirst seemingly remote and wild are frequently so transformed by being\nelaborated into what follows from them as to become apt and fruitful.\nThe development of an idea through reasoning helps at least to supply\nthe intervening or intermediate terms that link together into a\nconsistent whole apparently discrepant extremes (_ante_, p. 72).\n\n[Sidenote: 5. Corroboration of an idea and formation of a concluding\nbelief]\n\n5. The concluding and conclusive step is some kind of _experimental\ncorroboration_, or verification, of the conjectural idea. Reasoning\nshows that _if_ the idea be adopted, certain consequences follow. So far\nthe conclusion is hypothetical or conditional. If we look and find\npresent all the conditions demanded by the theory, and if we find the\ncharacteristic traits called for by rival alternatives to be lacking,\nthe tendency to believe, to accept, is almost irresistible. Sometimes\ndirect observation furnishes corroboration, as in the case of the pole\non the boat. In other cases, as in that of the bubbles, experiment is\nrequired; that is, _conditions are deliberately arranged in accord with\nthe requirements of an idea or hypothesis to see if the results\ntheoretically indicated by the idea actually occur_. If it is found that\nthe experimental results agree with the theoretical, or rationally\ndeduced, results, and if there is reason to believe that _only_ the\nconditions in question would yield such results, the confirmation is so\nstrong as to induce a conclusion--at least until contrary facts shall\nindicate the advisability of its revision.\n\n[Sidenote: Thinking comes between observations at the beginning and at\nthe end]\n\nObservation exists at the beginning and again at the end of the process:\nat the beginning, to determine more definitely and precisely the nature\nof the difficulty to be dealt with; at the end, to test the value of\nsome hypothetically entertained conclusion. Between those two termini of\nobservation, we find the more distinctively _mental_ aspects of the\nentire thought-cycle: (_i_) inference, the suggestion of an explanation\nor solution; and (_ii_) reasoning, the development of the bearings and\nimplications of the suggestion. Reasoning requires some experimental\nobservation to confirm it, while experiment can be economically and\nfruitfully conducted only on the basis of an idea that has been\ntentatively developed by reasoning.\n\n[Sidenote: The trained mind one that judges the extent of each step\nadvisable in a given situation]\n\nThe disciplined, or logically trained, mind--the aim of the educative\nprocess--is the mind able to judge how far each of these steps needs to\nbe carried in any particular situation. No cast-iron rules can be laid\ndown. Each case has to be dealt with as it arises, on the basis of its\nimportance and of the context in which it occurs. To take too much pains\nin one case is as foolish--as illogical--as to take too little in\nanother. At one extreme, almost any conclusion that insures prompt and\nunified action may be better than any long delayed conclusion; while at\nthe other, decision may have to be postponed for a long period--perhaps\nfor a lifetime. The trained mind is the one that best grasps the degree\nof observation, forming of ideas, reasoning, and experimental testing\nrequired in any special case, and that profits the most, in future\nthinking, by mistakes made in the past. What is important is that the\nmind should be sensitive to problems and skilled in methods of attack\nand solution.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER SEVEN\n\nSYSTEMATIC INFERENCE: INDUCTION AND DEDUCTION\n\n\nSec. 1. _The Double Movement of Reflection_\n\n[Sidenote: Back and forth between facts and meanings]\n\nThe characteristic outcome of thinking we saw to be the organization of\nfacts and conditions which, just as they stand, are isolated,\nfragmentary, and discrepant, the organization being effected through the\nintroduction of connecting links, or middle terms. The facts as they\nstand are the data, the raw material of reflection; their lack of\ncoherence perplexes and stimulates to reflection. There follows the\nsuggestion of some meaning which, _if_ it can be substantiated, will\ngive a whole in which various fragmentary and seemingly incompatible\ndata find their proper place. The meaning suggested supplies a mental\nplatform, an intellectual point of view, from which to note and define\nthe data more carefully, to seek for additional observations, and to\ninstitute, experimentally, changed conditions.\n\n[Sidenote: Inductive and deductive]\n\nThere is thus a double movement in all reflection: a movement from the\ngiven partial and confused data to a suggested comprehensive (or\ninclusive) entire situation; and back from this suggested whole--which\nas suggested is a _meaning_, an idea--to the particular facts, so as to\nconnect these with one another and with additional facts to which the\nsuggestion has directed attention. Roughly speaking, the first of these\nmovements is inductive; the second deductive. A complete act of thought\ninvolves both--it involves, that is, a fruitful interaction of observed\n(or recollected) particular considerations and of inclusive and\nfar-reaching (general) meanings.\n\n[Sidenote: Hurry _versus_ caution]\n\nThis double movement _to_ and _from_ a meaning may occur, however, in a\ncasual, uncritical way, or in a cautious and regulated manner. To think\nmeans, in any case, to bridge a gap in experience, to bind together\nfacts or deeds otherwise isolated. But we may make only a hurried jump\nfrom one consideration to another, allowing our aversion to mental\ndisquietude to override the gaps; or, we may insist upon noting the road\ntraveled in making connections. We may, in short, accept readily any\nsuggestion that seems plausible; or we may hunt out additional factors,\nnew difficulties, to see whether the suggested conclusion really ends\nthe matter. The latter method involves definite formulation of the\nconnecting links; the statement of a principle, or, in logical phrase,\nthe use of a universal. If we thus formulate the whole situation, the\noriginal data are transformed into premises of reasoning; the final\nbelief is a logical or _rational_ conclusion, not a mere _de facto_\ntermination.\n\n[Sidenote: Continuity of relationship the mark of the latter]\n\nThe importance of _connections binding isolated items into a coherent\nsingle whole_ is embodied in all the phrases that denote the relation of\npremises and conclusions to each other. (1) The premises are called\ngrounds, foundations, bases, and are said to underlie, uphold, support\nthe conclusion. (2) We \"descend\" from the premises to the conclusion,\nand \"ascend\" or \"mount\" in the opposite direction--as a river may be\ncontinuously traced from source to sea or vice versa. So the conclusion\nsprings, flows, or is drawn from its premises. (3) The conclusion--as\nthe word itself implies--closes, shuts in, locks up together the various\nfactors stated in the premises. We say that the premises \"contain\" the\nconclusion, and that the conclusion \"contains\" the premises, thereby\nmarking our sense of the inclusive and comprehensive unity in which the\nelements of reasoning are bound tightly together.[15] Systematic\ninference, in short, means the _recognition of definite relations of\ninterdependence between considerations previously unorganized and\ndisconnected, this recognition being brought about by the discovery and\ninsertion of new facts and properties_.\n\n    [15] See Vailati, _Journal of Philosophy, Psychology, and Scientific\n    Methods_, Vol. V, No. 12.\n\n[Sidenote: Scientific induction and deduction]\n\nThis more systematic thinking is, however, like the cruder forms in its\ndouble movement, the movement _toward_ the suggestion or hypothesis and\nthe movement _back_ to facts. The difference is in the greater conscious\ncare with which each phase of the process is performed. _The conditions\nunder which suggestions are allowed to spring up and develop are\nregulated._ Hasty acceptance of any idea that is plausible, that seems\nto solve the difficulty, is changed into a conditional acceptance\npending further inquiry. The idea is accepted as a _working hypothesis_,\nas something to guide investigation and bring to light new facts, not as\na final conclusion. When pains are taken to make each aspect of the\nmovement as accurate as possible, the movement toward building up the\nidea is known as _inductive discovery_ (_induction_, for short); the\nmovement toward developing, applying, and testing, as _deductive proof_\n(_deduction_, for short).\n\n[Sidenote: Particular and universal]\n\nWhile induction moves from fragmentary details (or particulars) to a\nconnected view of a situation (universal), deduction begins with the\nlatter and works back again to particulars, connecting them and binding\nthem together. The inductive movement is toward _discovery_ of a binding\nprinciple; the deductive toward its _testing_--confirming, refuting,\nmodifying it on the basis of its capacity to interpret isolated details\ninto a unified experience. So far as we conduct each of these processes\nin the light of the other, we get valid discovery or verified critical\nthinking.\n\n[Sidenote: Illustration from everyday experience]\n\nA commonplace illustration may enforce the points of this formula. A man\nwho has left his rooms in order finds them upon his return in a state of\nconfusion, articles being scattered at random. Automatically, the notion\ncomes to his mind that burglary would account for the disorder. He has\nnot seen the burglars; their presence is not a fact of observation, but\nis a thought, an idea. Moreover, the man has no special burglars in\nmind; it is the _relation_, the meaning of burglary--something\ngeneral--that comes to mind. The state of his room is perceived and is\nparticular, definite,--exactly as it is; burglars are inferred, and have\na general status. The state of the room is a _fact_, certain and\nspeaking for itself; the presence of burglars is a possible _meaning_\nwhich may explain the facts.\n\n[Sidenote: of induction,]\n\nSo far there is an inductive tendency, suggested by particular and\npresent facts. In the same inductive way, it occurs to him that his\nchildren are mischievous, and that they may have thrown the things\nabout. This rival hypothesis (or conditional principle of explanation)\nprevents him from dogmatically accepting the first suggestion. Judgment\nis held in suspense and a positive conclusion postponed.\n\n[Sidenote: of deduction]\n\nThen deductive movement begins. Further observations, recollections,\nreasonings are conducted on the basis of a development of the ideas\nsuggested: _if_ burglars were responsible, such and such things would\nhave happened; articles of value would be missing. Here the man is going\nfrom a general principle or relation to special features that accompany\nit, to particulars,--not back, however, merely to the original\nparticulars (which would be fruitless or take him in a circle), but to\nnew details, the actual discovery or nondiscovery of which will test the\nprinciple. The man turns to a box of valuables; some things are gone;\nsome, however, are still there. Perhaps he has himself removed the\nmissing articles, but has forgotten it. His experiment is not a decisive\ntest. He thinks of the silver in the sideboard--the children would not\nhave taken that nor would he absent-mindedly have changed its place. He\nlooks; all the solid ware is gone. The conception of burglars is\nconfirmed; examination of windows and doors shows that they have been\ntampered with. Belief culminates; the original isolated facts have been\nwoven into a coherent fabric. The idea first suggested (inductively) has\nbeen employed to reason out hypothetically certain additional\nparticulars not yet experienced, that _ought_ to be there, if the\nsuggestion is correct. Then new acts of observation have shown that the\nparticulars theoretically called for are present, and by this process\nthe hypothesis is strengthened, corroborated. This moving back and forth\nbetween the observed facts and the conditional idea is kept up till a\ncoherent experience of an object is substituted for the experience of\nconflicting details--or else the whole matter is given up as a bad job.\n\n[Sidenote: Science is the same operations carefully performed]\n\nSciences exemplify similar attitudes and operations, but with a higher\ndegree of elaboration of the instruments of caution, exactness and\nthoroughness. This greater elaboration brings about specialization, an\naccurate marking off of various types of problems from one another, and\na corresponding segregation and classification of the materials of\nexperience associated with each type of problem. We shall devote the\nremainder of this chapter to a consideration of the devices by which the\ndiscovery, the development, and the testing of meanings are\nscientifically carried on.\n\n\nSec. 2. _Guidance of the Inductive Movement_\n\n[Sidenote: Guidance is indirect]\n\nControl of the formation of suggestion is necessarily _indirect_, not\ndirect; imperfect, not perfect. Just because all discovery, all\napprehension involving thought of the new, goes from the known, the\npresent, to the unknown and absent, no rules can be stated that will\nguarantee correct inference. Just what is suggested to a person in a\ngiven situation depends upon his native constitution (his originality,\nhis genius), temperament, the prevalent direction of his interests, his\nearly environment, the general tenor of his past experiences, his\nspecial training, the things that have recently occupied him\ncontinuously or vividly, and so on; to some extent even upon an\naccidental conjunction of present circumstances. These matters, so far\nas they lie in the past or in external conditions, clearly escape\nregulation. A suggestion simply does or does not occur; this or that\nsuggestion just happens, occurs, springs up. If, however, prior\nexperience and training have developed an attitude of patience in a\ncondition of doubt, a capacity for suspended judgment, and a liking for\ninquiry, _indirect_ control of the course of suggestions is possible.\nThe individual may return upon, revise, restate, enlarge, and analyze\n_the facts out of which suggestion springs_. Inductive methods, in the\ntechnical sense, all have to do with regulating the conditions under\nwhich _observation, memory, and the acceptance of the testimony of\nothers_ (_the operations supplying the raw data_) proceed.\n\n[Sidenote: Method of indirect regulation]\n\nGiven the facts _A B C D_ on one side and certain individual habits on\nthe other, suggestion occurs automatically. But if the facts _A B C D_\nare carefully looked into and thereby resolved into the facts _A' B'' R\nS_, a suggestion will automatically present itself different from that\ncalled up by the facts in their first form. To inventory the facts, to\ndescribe exactly and minutely their respective traits, to magnify\nartificially those that are obscure and feeble, to reduce artificially\nthose that are so conspicuous and glaring as to be distracting,--these\nare ways of modifying the facts that exercise suggestive force, and\nthereby indirectly guiding the formation of suggested inferences.\n\n[Sidenote: Illustration from diagnosis]\n\nConsider, for example, how a physician makes his diagnosis--his\ninductive interpretation. If he is scientifically trained, he\nsuspends--postpones--reaching a conclusion in order that he may not be\nled by superficial occurrences into a snap judgment. Certain conspicuous\nphenomena may forcibly suggest typhoid, but he avoids a conclusion, or\neven any strong preference for this or that conclusion until he has\ngreatly (_i_) _enlarged_ the scope of his data, and (_ii_) rendered them\nmore _minute_. He not only questions the patient as to his feelings and\nas to his acts prior to the disease, but by various manipulations with\nhis hands (and with instruments made for the purpose) brings to light a\nlarge number of facts of which the patient is quite unaware. The state\nof temperature, respiration, and heart-action is accurately noted, and\ntheir fluctuations from time to time are exactly recorded. Until this\nexamination has worked _out_ toward a wider collection and _in_ toward a\nminuter scrutiny of details, inference is deferred.\n\n[Sidenote: Summary: definition of scientific induction]\n\nScientific induction means, in short, _all the processes by which the\nobserving and amassing of data are regulated with a view to facilitating\nthe formation of explanatory conceptions and theories_. These devices\nare all directed toward selecting the precise facts to which weight and\nsignificance shall attach in forming suggestions or ideas. Specifically,\nthis selective determination involves devices of (1) elimination by\nanalysis of what is likely to be misleading and irrelevant, (2) emphasis\nof the important by collection and comparison of cases, (3) deliberate\nconstruction of data by experimental variation.\n\n[Sidenote: Elimination of irrelevant meanings]\n\n(1) It is a common saying that one must learn to discriminate between\nobserved facts and judgments based upon them. Taken literally, such\nadvice cannot be carried out; in every observed thing there is--if the\nthing have any meaning at all--some consolidation of meaning with what\nis sensibly and physically present, such that, if this were entirely\nexcluded, what is left would have no sense. A says: \"I saw my brother.\"\nThe term _brother_, however, involves a relation that cannot be sensibly\nor physically observed; it is inferential in status. If A contents\nhimself with saying, \"I saw a man,\" the factor of classification, of\nintellectual reference, is less complex, but still exists. If, as a last\nresort, A were to say, \"Anyway, I saw a colored object,\" some\nrelationship, though more rudimentary and undefined, still subsists.\nTheoretically, it is possible that no object was there, only an unusual\nmode of nerve stimulation. None the less, the advice to discriminate\nwhat is observed from what is inferred is sound practical advice. Its\nworking import is that one should eliminate or exclude _those_\ninferences as to which experience has shown that there is greatest\nliability to error. This, of course, is a relative matter. Under\nordinary circumstances no reasonable doubt would attach to the\nobservation, \"I see my brother\"; it would be pedantic and silly to\nresolve this recognition back into a more elementary form. Under other\ncircumstances it might be a perfectly genuine question as to whether A\nsaw even a colored _thing_, or whether the color was due to a\nstimulation of the sensory optical apparatus (like \"seeing stars\" upon a\nblow) or to a disordered circulation. In general, the scientific man is\none who knows that he is likely to be hurried to a conclusion, and that\npart of this precipitancy is due to certain habits which tend to make\nhim \"read\" certain meanings into the situation that confronts him, so\nthat he must be on the lookout against errors arising from his\ninterests, habits, and current preconceptions.\n\n[Sidenote: The technique of conclusion]\n\nThe technique of scientific inquiry thus consists in various processes\nthat tend to exclude over-hasty \"reading in\" of meanings; devices that\naim to give a purely \"objective\" unbiased rendering of the data to be\ninterpreted. Flushed cheeks usually mean heightened temperature;\npaleness means lowered temperature. The clinical thermometer records\nautomatically the actual temperature and hence checks up the habitual\nassociations that might lead to error in a given case. All the\ninstrumentalities of observation--the various -meters and -graphs\nand -scopes--fill a part of their scientific role in helping to eliminate\nmeanings supplied because of habit, prejudice, the strong momentary\npreoccupation of excitement and anticipation, and by the vogue of\nexisting theories. Photographs, phonographs, kymographs, actinographs,\nseismographs, plethysmographs, and the like, moreover, give records that\nare permanent, so that they can be employed by different persons, and by\nthe same person in different states of mind, _i.e._ under the influence\nof varying expectations and dominant beliefs. Thus purely personal\nprepossessions (due to habit, to desire, to after-effects of recent\nexperience) may be largely eliminated. In ordinary language, the facts\nare _objectively_, rather than _subjectively_, determined. In this way\ntendencies to premature interpretation are held in check.\n\n[Sidenote: Collection of instances]\n\n(2) Another important method of control consists in the multiplication\nof cases or instances. If I doubt whether a certain handful gives a fair\nsample, or representative, for purposes of judging value, of a whole\ncarload of grain, I take a number of handfuls from various parts of the\ncar and compare them. If they agree in quality, well and good; if they\ndisagree, we try to get enough samples so that when they are thoroughly\nmixed the result will be a fair basis for an evaluation. This\nillustration represents roughly the value of that aspect of scientific\ncontrol in induction which insists upon multiplying observations instead\nof basing the conclusion upon one or a few cases.\n\n[Sidenote: This method not the whole of induction]\n\nSo prominent, indeed, is this aspect of inductive method that it is\nfrequently treated as the whole of induction. It is supposed that all\ninductive inference is based upon collecting and comparing a number of\nlike cases. But in fact such comparison and collection is a secondary\ndevelopment within the process of securing a correct conclusion in some\nsingle case. If a man infers from a single sample of grain as to the\ngrade of wheat of the car as a whole, it is induction and, under certain\ncircumstances, a _sound_ induction; other cases are resorted to simply\nfor the sake of rendering that induction more guarded, and more probably\ncorrect. In like fashion, the reasoning that led up to the burglary idea\nin the instance already cited (p. 83) was inductive, though there was\nbut one single case examined. The particulars upon which the general\nmeaning (or relation) of burglary was grounded were simply the sum total\nof the unlike items and qualities that made up the one case examined.\nHad this case presented very great obscurities and difficulties,\nrecourse might _then_ have been had to examination of a number of\nsimilar cases. But this comparison would not make inductive a process\nwhich was not previously of that character; it would only render\ninduction more wary and adequate. _The object of bringing into\nconsideration a multitude of cases is to facilitate the selection of the\nevidential or significant features upon which to base inference in some\nsingle case._\n\n[Sidenote: Contrast as important as likeness]\n\nAccordingly, points of _unlikeness_ are as important as points of\n_likeness_ among the cases examined. _Comparison_, without _contrast_,\ndoes not amount to anything logically. In the degree in which other\ncases observed or remembered merely duplicate the case in question, we\nare no better off for purposes of inference than if we had permitted our\nsingle original fact to dictate a conclusion. In the case of the various\nsamples of grain, it is the fact that the samples are unlike, at least\nin the part of the carload from which they are taken, that is important.\nWere it not for this unlikeness, their likeness in quality would be of\nno avail in assisting inference.[16] If we are endeavoring to get a\nchild to regulate his conclusions about the germination of a seed by\ntaking into account a number of instances, very little is gained if the\nconditions in all these instances closely approximate one another. But\nif one seed is placed in pure sand, another in loam, and another on\nblotting-paper, and if in each case there are two conditions, one with\nand another without moisture, the unlike factors tend to throw into\nrelief the factors that are significant (or \"essential\") for reaching a\nconclusion. Unless, in short, the observer takes care to have the\ndifferences in the observed cases as extreme as conditions allow, and\nunless he notes unlikenesses as carefully as likenesses, he has no way\nof determining the evidential force of the data that confront him.\n\n    [16] In terms of the phrases used in logical treatises, the\n    so-called \"methods of agreement\" (comparison) and \"difference\"\n    (contrast) must accompany each other or constitute a \"joint method\"\n    in order to be of logical use.\n\n[Sidenote: Importance of exceptions and contrary cases]\n\nAnother way of bringing out this importance of unlikeness is the\nemphasis put by the scientist upon _negative_ cases--upon instances\nwhich it would seem ought to fall into line but which as matter of fact\ndo not. Anomalies, exceptions, things which agree in most respects but\ndisagree in some crucial point, are so important that many of the\ndevices of scientific technique are designed purely to detect, record,\nand impress upon memory contrasting cases. Darwin remarked that so easy\nis it to pass over cases that oppose a favorite generalization, that he\nhad made it a habit not merely to hunt for contrary instances, but also\nto write down any exception he noted or thought of--as otherwise it was\nalmost sure to be forgotten.\n\n\nSec. 3. _Experimental Variation of Conditions_\n\n[Sidenote: Experiment the typical method of introducing contrast\nfactors]\n\nWe have already trenched upon this factor of inductive method, the one\nthat is the most important of all wherever it is feasible.\nTheoretically, one sample case _of the right kind_ will be as good a\nbasis for an inference as a thousand cases; but cases of the \"right\nkind\" rarely turn up spontaneously. We have to search for them, and we\nmay have to _make_ them. If we take cases just as we find them--whether\none case or many cases--they contain much that is irrelevant to the\nproblem in hand, while much that is relevant is obscure, hidden. The\nobject of experimentation is the _construction, by regular steps taken\non the basis of a plan thought out in advance, of a typical, crucial\ncase_, a case formed with express reference to throwing light on the\ndifficulty in question. All inductive methods rest (as already stated,\np. 85) upon regulation of the conditions of observation and memory;\nexperiment is simply the most adequate regulation possible of these\nconditions. We try to make the observation such that every factor\nentering into it, together with the mode and the amount of its\noperation, may be open to recognition. Such making of observations\nconstitutes experiment.\n\n[Sidenote: Three advantages of experiment]\n\nSuch observations have many and obvious advantages over observations--no\nmatter how extensive--with respect to which we simply wait for an event\nto happen or an object to present itself. Experiment overcomes the\ndefects due to (_a_) the _rarity_, (_b_) the _subtlety_ and minuteness\n(or the violence), and (_c_) the rigid _fixity_ of facts as we\nordinarily experience them. The following quotations from Jevons's\n_Elementary Lessons in Logic_ bring out all these points:\n\n(_i_) \"We might have to wait years or centuries to meet accidentally\nwith facts which we can readily produce at any moment in a laboratory;\nand it is probable that most of the chemical substances now known, and\nmany excessively useful products would never have been discovered at all\nby waiting till nature presented them spontaneously to our observation.\"\n\nThis quotation refers to the infrequency or rarity of certain facts of\nnature, even very important ones. The passage then goes on to speak of\nthe minuteness of many phenomena which makes them escape ordinary\nexperience:\n\n(_ii_) \"Electricity doubtless operates in every particle of matter,\nperhaps at every moment of time; and even the ancients could not but\nnotice its action in the loadstone, in lightning, in the Aurora\nBorealis, or in a piece of rubbed amber. But in lightning electricity\nwas too intense and dangerous; in the other cases it was too feeble to\nbe properly understood. The science of electricity and magnetism could\nonly advance by getting regular supplies of electricity from the common\nelectric machine or the galvanic battery and by making powerful\nelectromagnets. Most, if not all, the effects which electricity produces\nmust go on in nature, but altogether too obscurely for observation.\"\n\nJevons then deals with the fact that, under ordinary conditions of\nexperience, phenomena which can be understood only by seeing them under\nvarying conditions are presented in a fixed and uniform way.\n\n(_iii_) \"Thus carbonic acid is only met in the form of a gas, proceeding\nfrom the combustion of carbon; but when exposed to extreme pressure and\ncold, it is condensed into a liquid, and may even be converted into a\nsnowlike solid substance. Many other gases have in like manner been\nliquefied or solidified, and there is reason to believe that every\nsubstance is capable of taking all three forms of solid, liquid, and\ngas, if only the conditions of temperature and pressure can be\nsufficiently varied. Mere observation of nature would have led us, on\nthe contrary, to suppose that nearly all substances were fixed in one\ncondition only, and could not be converted from solid into liquid and\nfrom liquid into gas.\"\n\nMany volumes would be required to describe in detail all the methods\nthat investigators have developed in various subjects for analyzing and\nrestating the facts of ordinary experience so that we may escape from\ncapricious and routine suggestions, and may get the facts in such a form\nand in such a light (or context) that exact and far-reaching\nexplanations may be suggested in place of vague and limited ones. But\nthese various devices of inductive inquiry all have one goal in view:\nthe indirect regulation of the function of suggestion, or formation of\nideas; and, in the main, they will be found to reduce to some\ncombination of the three types of selecting and arranging subject-matter\njust described.\n\n\nSec. 4. _Guidance of the Deductive Movement_\n\n[Sidenote: Value of deduction for guiding induction]\n\nBefore dealing directly with this topic, we must note that systematic\nregulation of induction depends upon the possession of a body of general\nprinciples that may be applied deductively to the examination or\nconstruction of particular cases as they come up. If the physician does\nnot know the general laws of the physiology of the human body, he has\nlittle way of telling what is either peculiarly significant or\npeculiarly exceptional in any particular case that he is called upon to\ntreat. If he knows the laws of circulation, digestion, and respiration,\nhe can deduce the conditions that should normally be found in a given\ncase. These considerations give a base line from which the deviations\nand abnormalities of a particular case may be measured. In this way,\n_the nature of the problem at hand is located and defined_. Attention is\nnot wasted upon features which though conspicuous have nothing to do\nwith the case; it is concentrated upon just those traits which are out\nof the way and hence require explanation. A question well put is half\nanswered; _i.e._ a difficulty clearly apprehended is likely to suggest\nits own solution,--while a vague and miscellaneous perception of the\nproblem leads to groping and fumbling. Deductive systems are necessary\nin order to put the question in a fruitful form.\n\n[Sidenote: \"Reasoning a thing out\"]\n\nThe control of the origin and development of hypotheses by deduction\ndoes not cease, however, with locating the problem. Ideas as they first\npresent themselves are inchoate and incomplete. _Deduction is their\nelaboration into fullness and completeness of meaning_ (see p. 76). The\nphenomena which the physician isolates from the total mass of facts that\nexist in front of him suggest, we will say, typhoid fever. Now this\nconception of typhoid fever is one that is capable of development. _If_\nthere is typhoid, _wherever_ there is typhoid, there are certain\nresults, certain characteristic symptoms. By going over mentally the\nfull bearing of the concept of typhoid, the scientist is instructed as\nto further phenomena to be found. Its development gives him an\ninstrument of inquiry, of observation and experimentation. He can go to\nwork deliberately to see whether the case presents those features that\nit should have if the supposition is valid. The deduced results form a\nbasis for comparison with observed results. Except where there is a\nsystem of principles capable of being elaborated by theoretical\nreasoning, the process of testing (or proof) of a hypothesis is\nincomplete and haphazard.\n\n[Sidenote: Such reasoning implies systematized knowledge,]\n\nThese considerations indicate the method by which the deductive movement\nis guided. Deduction requires a system of allied ideas which may be\ntranslated into one another by regular or graded steps. The question is\nwhether the facts that confront us can be identified as typhoid fever.\nTo all appearances, there is a great gap between them and typhoid. But\nif we can, by some method of substitutions, go through a series of\nintermediary terms (see p. 72), the gap may, after all, be easily\nbridged. Typhoid may mean _p_ which in turn means _o_, which means _n_\nwhich means _m_, which is very similar to the data selected as the key\nto the problem.\n\n[Sidenote: or definition and classification]\n\nOne of the chief objects of science is to provide for every typical\nbranch of subject-matter a set of meanings and principles so closely\ninterknit that any one implies some other according to definite\nconditions, which under certain other conditions implies another, and so\non. In this way, various substitutions of equivalents are possible, and\nreasoning can trace out, without having recourse to specific\nobservations, very remote consequences of any suggested principle.\nDefinition, general formulae, and classification are the devices by which\nthe fixation and elaboration of a meaning into its detailed\nramifications are carried on. They are not ends in themselves--as they\nare frequently regarded even in elementary education--but\ninstrumentalities for facilitating the development of a conception into\nthe form where its applicability to given facts may best be tested.[17]\n\n    [17] These processes are further discussed in Chapter IX.\n\n[Sidenote: The final control of deduction]\n\nThe final test of deduction lies in experimental observation.\nElaboration by reasoning may make a suggested idea very rich and very\nplausible, but it will not settle the validity of that idea. Only if\nfacts can be observed (by methods either of collection or of\nexperimentation), that agree in detail and without exception with the\ndeduced results, are we justified in accepting the deduction as giving a\nvalid conclusion. Thinking, in short, must end as well as begin in the\ndomain of concrete observations, if it is to be complete thinking. And\nthe ultimate educative value of all deductive processes is measured by\nthe degree to which they become working tools in the creation and\ndevelopment of new experiences.\n\n\nSec. 5. _Some Educational Bearings of the Discussion_\n\n[Sidenote: Educational counterparts of false logical theories]\n\n[Sidenote: Isolation of \"facts\"]\n\nSome of the points of the foregoing logical analysis may be clinched by\na consideration of their educational implications, especially with\nreference to certain practices that grow out of a false separation by\nwhich each is thought to be independent of the other and complete in\nitself. (_i_) In some school subjects, or at all events in some topics\nor in some lessons, the pupils are immersed in details; their minds are\nloaded with disconnected items (whether gleaned by observation and\nmemory, or accepted on hearsay and authority). Induction is treated as\nbeginning and ending with the amassing of facts, of particular isolated\npieces of information. That these items are educative only as suggesting\na view of some larger situation in which the particulars are included\nand thereby accounted for, is ignored. In object lessons in elementary\neducation and in laboratory instruction in higher education, the subject\nis often so treated that the student fails to \"see the forest on account\nof the trees.\" Things and their qualities are retailed and detailed,\nwithout reference to a more general character which they stand for and\nmean. Or, in the laboratory, the student becomes engrossed in the\nprocesses of manipulation,--irrespective of the reason for their\nperformance, without recognizing a typical problem for the solution of\nwhich they afford the appropriate method. Only deduction brings out and\nemphasizes consecutive relationships, and only when _relationships_ are\nheld in view does learning become more than a miscellaneous scrap-bag.\n\n[Sidenote: Failure to follow up by reasoning]\n\n(_ii_) Again, the mind is allowed to hurry on to a vague notion of the\nwhole of which the fragmentary facts are portions, without any attempt\nto become conscious of _how_ they are bound together as parts of this\nwhole. The student feels that \"in a general way,\" as we say, the facts\nof the history or geography lesson are related thus and so; but \"in a\ngeneral way\" here stands only for \"in a vague way,\" somehow or other,\nwith no clear recognition of just how.\n\nThe pupil is encouraged to form, on the basis of the particular facts, a\ngeneral notion, a conception of how they stand related; but no pains are\ntaken to make the student follow up the notion, to elaborate it and see\njust what its bearings are upon the case in hand and upon similar cases.\nThe inductive inference, the guess, is formed by the student; if it\nhappens to be correct, it is at once accepted by the teacher; or if it\nis false, it is rejected. If any amplification of the idea occurs, it\nis quite likely carried through by the teacher, who thereby assumes the\nresponsibility for its intellectual development. But a complete, an\nintegral, act of thought requires that the person making the suggestion\n(the guess) be responsible also for reasoning out its bearings upon the\nproblem in hand; that he develop the suggestion at least enough to\nindicate the ways in which it applies to and accounts for the specific\ndata of the case. Too often when a recitation does not consist in simply\ntesting the ability of the student to display some form of technical\nskill, or to repeat facts and principles accepted on the authority of\ntext-book or lecturer, the teacher goes to the opposite extreme; and\nafter calling out the spontaneous reflections of the pupils, their\nguesses or ideas about the matter, merely accepts or rejects them,\nassuming himself the responsibility for their elaboration. In this way,\nthe function of suggestion and of interpretation is excited, but it is\nnot directed and trained. Induction is stimulated but is not carried\nover into the _reasoning_ phase necessary to complete it.\n\nIn other subjects and topics, the deductive phase is isolated, and is\ntreated as if it were complete in itself. This false isolation may show\nitself in either (and both) of two points; namely, at the beginning or\nat the end of the resort to general intellectual procedure.\n\n[Sidenote: Isolation of deduction by commencing with it]\n\n(_iii_) Beginning with definitions, rules, general principles,\nclassifications, and the like, is a common form of the first error. This\nmethod has been such a uniform object of attack on the part of all\neducational reformers that it is not necessary to dwell upon it further\nthan to note that the mistake is, logically, due to the attempt to\nintroduce deductive considerations without first making acquaintance\nwith the particular facts that create a need for the generalizing\nrational devices. Unfortunately, the reformer sometimes carries his\nobjection too far, or rather locates it in the wrong place. He is led\ninto a tirade against _all_ definition, all systematization, all use of\ngeneral principles, instead of confining himself to pointing out their\nfutility and their deadness when not properly motivated by familiarity\nwith concrete experiences.\n\n[Sidenote: Isolation of deduction from direction of new observations]\n\n(_iv_) The isolation of deduction is seen, at the other end, wherever\nthere is failure to clinch and test the results of the general reasoning\nprocesses by application to new concrete cases. The final point of the\ndeductive devices lies in their use in assimilating and comprehending\nindividual cases. No one understands a general principle fully--no\nmatter how adequately he can demonstrate it, to say nothing of repeating\nit--till he can employ it in the mastery of new situations, which, if\nthey _are_ new, differ in manifestation from the cases used in reaching\nthe generalization. Too often the text-book or teacher is contented with\na series of somewhat perfunctory examples and illustrations, and the\nstudent is not forced to carry the principle that he has formulated over\ninto further cases of his own experience. In so far, the principle is\ninert and dead.\n\n[Sidenote: Lack of provision for experimentation]\n\n(_v_) It is only a variation upon this same theme to say that\nevery complete act of reflective inquiry makes provision for\nexperimentation--for testing suggested and accepted principles by\nemploying them for the active construction of new cases, in which new\nqualities emerge. Only slowly do our schools accommodate themselves to\nthe general advance of scientific method. From the scientific side, it\nis demonstrated that effective and integral thinking is possible only\nwhere the experimental method in some form is used. Some recognition of\nthis principle is evinced in higher institutions of learning, colleges\nand high schools. But in elementary education, it is still assumed, for\nthe most part, that the pupil's natural range of observations,\nsupplemented by what he accepts on hearsay, is adequate for intellectual\ngrowth. Of course it is not necessary that laboratories shall be\nintroduced under that name, much less that elaborate apparatus be\nsecured; but the entire scientific history of humanity demonstrates that\nthe conditions for complete mental activity will not be obtained till\nadequate provision is made for the carrying on of activities that\nactually modify physical conditions, and that books, pictures, and even\nobjects that are passively observed but not manipulated do not furnish\nthe provision required.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER EIGHT\n\nJUDGMENT: THE INTERPRETATION OF FACTS\n\n\nSec. 1. _The Three Factors of Judging_\n\n[Sidenote: Good judgment]\n\nA man of good judgment in a given set of affairs is a man in so far\neducated, trained, whatever may be his literacy. And if our schools turn\nout their pupils in that attitude of mind which is conducive to good\njudgment in any department of affairs in which the pupils are placed,\nthey have done more than if they sent out their pupils merely possessed\nof vast stores of information, or high degrees of skill in specialized\nbranches. To know what is _good_ judgment we need first to know what\njudgment is.\n\n[Sidenote: Judgment and inference]\n\nThat there is an intimate connection between judgment and inference is\nobvious enough. The aim of inference is to terminate itself in an\nadequate judgment of a situation, and the course of inference goes on\nthrough a series of partial and tentative judgments. What are these\nunits, these terms of inference when we examine them on their own\naccount? Their significant traits may be readily gathered from a\nconsideration of the operations to which the word _judgment_ was\noriginally applied: namely, the authoritative decision of matters in\nlegal controversy--the procedure of the _judge on the bench_. There are\nthree such features: (1) a controversy, consisting of opposite claims\nregarding the same objective situation; (2) a process of defining and\nelaborating these claims and of sifting the facts adduced to support\nthem; (3) a final decision, or sentence, closing the particular matter\nin dispute and also serving as a rule or principle for deciding future\ncases.\n\n[Sidenote: Uncertainty the antecedent of judgment]\n\n1. Unless there is something doubtful, the situation is read off at a\nglance; it is taken in on sight, _i.e._ there is merely apprehension,\nperception, recognition, not judgment. If the matter is wholly doubtful,\nif it is dark and obscure throughout, there is a blind mystery and again\nno judgment occurs. But if it suggests, however vaguely, different\nmeanings, rival possible interpretations, there is some _point at\nissue_, some _matter at stake_. Doubt takes the form of dispute,\ncontroversy; different sides compete for a conclusion in their favor.\nCases brought to trial before a judge illustrate neatly and\nunambiguously this strife of alternative interpretations; but any case\nof trying to clear up intellectually a doubtful situation exemplifies\nthe same traits. A moving blur catches our eye in the distance; we ask\nourselves: \"What is it? Is it a cloud of whirling dust? a tree waving\nits branches? a man signaling to us?\" Something in the total situation\nsuggests each of these possible meanings. Only one of them can possibly\nbe sound; perhaps none of them is appropriate; yet _some_ meaning the\nthing in question surely has. Which of the alternative suggested\nmeanings has the rightful claim? What does the perception really mean?\nHow is it to be interpreted, estimated, appraised, placed? Every\njudgment proceeds from some such situation.\n\n[Sidenote: Judgment defines the issue,]\n\n2. The hearing of the controversy, the trial, _i.e._ the weighing of\nalternative claims, divides into two branches, either of which, in a\ngiven case, may be more conspicuous than the other. In the consideration\nof a legal dispute, these two branches are sifting the evidence and\nselecting the rules that are applicable; they are \"the facts\" and \"the\nlaw\" of the case. In judgment they are (_a_) the determination of the\ndata that are important in the given case (compare the inductive\nmovement); and (_b_) the elaboration of the conceptions or meanings\nsuggested by the crude data (compare the deductive movement). (_a_) What\nportions or aspects of the situation are significant in controlling the\nformation of the interpretation? (_b_) Just what is the full meaning and\nbearing of the conception that is used as a method of interpretation?\nThese questions are strictly correlative; the answer to each depends\nupon the answer to the other. We may, however, for convenience, consider\nthem separately.\n\n[Sidenote: (_a_) by selecting what facts are evidence]\n\n(_a_) In every actual occurrence, there are many details which are part\nof the total occurrence, but which nevertheless are not significant in\nrelation to the point at issue. All parts of an experience are equally\npresent, but they are very far from being of equal value as signs or as\nevidences. Nor is there any tag or label on any trait saying: \"This is\nimportant,\" or \"This is trivial.\" Nor is intensity, or vividness or\nconspicuousness, a safe measure of indicative and proving value. The\nglaring thing may be totally insignificant in this particular situation,\nand the key to the understanding of the whole matter may be modest or\nhidden (compare p. 74). Features that are not significant are\ndistracting; they proffer their claims to be regarded as clues and cues\nto interpretation, while traits that are significant do not appear on\nthe surface at all. Hence, judgment is required _even in reference_ to\nthe situation or event that is present to the senses; elimination or\nrejection, selection, discovery, or bringing to light must take place.\nTill we have reached a final conclusion, rejection and selection must be\ntentative or conditional. We select the things that we hope or trust are\ncues to meaning. But if they do not suggest a situation that accepts and\nincludes them (see p. 81), we reconstitute our data, the facts of the\ncase; for we mean, intellectually, by the facts of the case _those\ntraits that are used as evidence in reaching a conclusion or forming a\ndecision_.\n\n[Sidenote: Expertness in selecting evidence]\n\nNo hard and fast rules for this operation of selecting and rejecting, or\nfixing upon the facts, can be given. It all comes back, as we say, to\nthe good judgment, the good sense, of the one judging. To be a good\njudge is to have a sense of the relative indicative or signifying values\nof the various features of the perplexing situation; to know what to let\ngo as of no account; what to eliminate as irrelevant; what to retain as\nconducive to outcome; what to emphasize as a clue to the difficulty.[18]\nThis power in ordinary matters we call _knack_, _tact_, _cleverness_; in\nmore important affairs, _insight_, _discernment_. In part it is\ninstinctive or inborn; but it also represents the funded outcome of long\nfamiliarity with like operations in the past. Possession of this ability\nto seize what is evidential or significant and to let the rest go is the\nmark of the expert, the connoisseur, the _judge_, in any matter.\n\n    [18] Compare what was said about _analysis_.\n\n[Sidenote: Intuitive judgments]\n\nMill cites the following case, which is worth noting as an instance of\nthe extreme delicacy and accuracy to which may be developed this power\nof sizing up the significant factors of a situation. \"A Scotch\nmanufacturer procured from England, at a high rate of wages, a working\ndyer, famous for producing very fine colors, with the view of teaching\nto his other workmen the same skill. The workman came; but his method\nof proportioning the ingredients, in which lay the secret of the effects\nhe produced, was by taking them up in handfuls, while the common method\nwas to weigh them. The manufacturer sought to make him turn his handling\nsystem into an equivalent weighing system, that the general principles\nof his peculiar mode of proceeding might be ascertained. This, however,\nthe man found himself quite unable to do, and could therefore impart his\nown skill to nobody. He had, from individual cases of his own\nexperience, established a connection in his mind between fine effects of\ncolor and tactual perceptions in handling his dyeing materials; and from\nthese perceptions he could, in any particular case, _infer the means to\nbe employed_ and the effects which would be produced.\" Long brooding\nover conditions, intimate contact associated with keen interest,\nthorough absorption in a multiplicity of allied experiences, tend to\nbring about those judgments which we then call intuitive; but they are\ntrue judgments because they are based on intelligent selection and\nestimation, with the solution of a problem as the controlling standard.\nPossession of this capacity makes the difference between the artist and\nthe intellectual bungler.\n\nSuch is judging ability, in its completest form, as to the data of the\ndecision to be reached. But in any case there is a certain feeling along\nfor the way to be followed; a constant tentative picking out of certain\nqualities to see what emphasis upon them would lead to; a willingness to\nhold final selection in suspense; and to reject the factors entirely or\nrelegate them to a different position in the evidential scheme if other\nfeatures yield more solvent suggestions. Alertness, flexibility,\ncuriosity are the essentials; dogmatism, rigidity, prejudice, caprice,\narising from routine, passion, and flippancy are fatal.\n\n[Sidenote: (_b_) To decide an issue, the appropriate principles must\nalso be selected]\n\n(_b_) This selection of data is, of course, for the sake of controlling\nthe _development and elaboration of the suggested meaning in the light\nof which they are to be interpreted_ (compare p. 76). An evolution of\nconceptions thus goes on simultaneously with the determination of the\nfacts; one possible meaning after another is held before the mind,\nconsidered in relation to the data to which it is applied, is developed\ninto its more detailed bearings upon the data, is dropped or tentatively\naccepted and used. We do not approach any problem with a wholly naive or\nvirgin mind; we approach it with certain acquired habitual modes of\nunderstanding, with a certain store of previously evolved meanings, or\nat least of experiences from which meanings may be educed. If the\ncircumstances are such that a habitual response is called directly into\nplay, there is an immediate grasp of meaning. If the habit is checked,\nand inhibited from easy application, a possible meaning for the facts in\nquestion presents itself. No hard and fast rules decide whether a\nmeaning suggested is the right and proper meaning to follow up. The\nindividual's own good (or bad) judgment is the guide. There is no label\non any given idea or principle which says automatically, \"Use me in this\nsituation\"--as the magic cakes of Alice in Wonderland were inscribed\n\"Eat me.\" The thinker has to decide, to choose; and there is always a\nrisk, so that the prudent thinker selects warily, subject, that is, to\nconfirmation or frustration by later events. If one is not able to\nestimate wisely what is relevant to the interpretation of a given\nperplexing or doubtful issue, it avails little that arduous learning\nhas built up a large stock of concepts. For learning is not wisdom;\ninformation does not guarantee good judgment. Memory may provide an\nantiseptic refrigerator in which to store a stock of meanings for future\nuse, but judgment selects and adopts the one used in a given\nemergency--and without an emergency (some crisis, slight or great) there\nis no call for judgment. No conception, even if it is carefully and\nfirmly established in the abstract, can at first safely be more than a\n_candidate_ for the office of interpreter. Only greater success than\nthat of its rivals in clarifying dark spots, untying hard knots,\nreconciling discrepancies, can elect it or prove it a valid idea for the\ngiven situation.\n\n[Sidenote: Judging terminates in a _decision_ or statement]\n\n3. The judgment when formed is a _decision_; it closes (or concludes)\nthe question at issue. This determination not only settles that\nparticular case, but it helps fix a rule or method for deciding similar\nmatters in the future; as the sentence of the judge on the bench both\nterminates that dispute and also forms a precedent for future decisions.\nIf the interpretation settled upon is not controverted by subsequent\nevents, a presumption is built up in favor of similar interpretation in\nother cases where the features are not so obviously unlike as to make it\ninappropriate. In this way, principles of judging are gradually built\nup; a certain manner of interpretation gets weight, authority. In short,\nmeanings get _standardized_, they become logical concepts (see below, p.\n118).\n\n\nSec. 2. _The Origin and Nature of Ideas_\n\n[Sidenote: Ideas are conjectures employed in judging]\n\nThis brings us to the question of _ideas in relation to judgments_.[19]\nSomething in an obscure situation suggests something else as its\nmeaning. If this meaning is at once accepted, there is no reflective\nthinking, no genuine judging. Thought is cut short uncritically;\ndogmatic belief, with all its attending risks, takes place. But if the\nmeaning suggested is held _in suspense_, pending examination and\ninquiry, there is true judgment. We stop and think, we _de-fer_\nconclusion in order to _in-fer_ more thoroughly. In this process of\nbeing only conditionally accepted, accepted only for examination,\n_meanings become ideas_. _That is to say, an idea is a meaning that is\ntentatively entertained, formed, and used with reference to its fitness\nto decide a perplexing situation,--a meaning used as a tool of\njudgment._\n\n    [19] The term _idea_ is also used popularly to denote (_a_) a mere\n    fancy, (_b_) an accepted belief, and also (_c_) judgment itself. But\n    _logically_ it denotes a certain _factor_ in judgment, as explained\n    in the text.\n\n[Sidenote: Or tools of interpretation]\n\nLet us recur to our instance of a blur in motion appearing at a\ndistance. We wonder what _the thing is_, _i.e._ what the _blur means_. A\nman waving his arms, a friend beckoning to us, are suggested as\npossibilities. To accept at once either alternative is to arrest\njudgment. But if we treat what is suggested as only a suggestion, a\nsupposition, a possibility, it becomes an idea, having the following\ntraits: (_a_) As merely a suggestion, it is a conjecture, a guess, which\nin cases of greater dignity we call a hypothesis or a theory. That is to\nsay, it is _a possible but as yet doubtful mode of interpretation_.\n(_b_) Even though doubtful, it has an office to perform; namely, that of\ndirecting inquiry and examination. If this blur means a friend\nbeckoning, then careful observation should show certain other traits. If\nit is a man driving unruly cattle, certain other traits should be found.\nLet us look and see if these traits are found. Taken merely as a doubt,\nan idea would paralyze inquiry. Taken merely as a certainty, it would\narrest inquiry. Taken as a doubtful possibility, it affords a\nstandpoint, a platform, a method of inquiry.\n\n[Sidenote: Pseudo-ideas]\n\nIdeas are not then genuine ideas unless they are tools in a reflective\nexamination which tends to solve a problem. Suppose it is a question of\nhaving the pupil grasp _the idea_ of the sphericity of the earth. This\nis different from teaching him its sphericity _as a fact_. He may be\nshown (or reminded of) a ball or a globe, and be told that the earth is\nround like those things; he may then be made to repeat that statement\nday after day till the shape of the earth and the shape of the ball are\nwelded together in his mind. But he has not thereby acquired any idea of\nthe earth's sphericity; at most, he has had a certain image of a sphere\nand has finally managed to image the earth after the analogy of his ball\nimage. To grasp sphericity as an idea, the pupil must first have\nrealized certain perplexities or confusing features in observed facts\nand have had the idea of spherical shape suggested to him as a possible\nway of accounting for the phenomena in question. Only by use as a method\nof interpreting data so as to give them fuller meaning does sphericity\nbecome a genuine idea. There may be a vivid image and no idea; or there\nmay be a fleeting, obscure image and yet an idea, if that image performs\nthe function of instigating and directing the observation and relation\nof facts.\n\n[Sidenote: Ideas furnish the only alternative to \"hit or miss\" methods]\n\nLogical ideas are like keys which are shaping with reference to opening\na lock. Pike, separated by a glass partition from the fish upon which\nthey ordinarily prey, will--so it is said--butt their heads against the\nglass until it is literally beaten into them that they cannot get at\ntheir food. Animals learn (when they learn at all) by a \"cut and try\"\nmethod; by doing at random first one thing and another thing and then\npreserving the things that happen to succeed. Action directed\nconsciously by ideas--by suggested meanings accepted for the sake of\nexperimenting with them--is the sole alternative both to bull-headed\nstupidity and to learning bought from that dear teacher--chance\nexperience.\n\n[Sidenote: They are methods of indirect attack]\n\nIt is significant that many words for intelligence suggest the idea of\ncircuitous, evasive activity--often with a sort of intimation of even\nmoral obliquity. The bluff, hearty man goes straight (and stupidly, it\nis implied) at some work. The intelligent man is cunning, shrewd\n(crooked), wily, subtle, crafty, artful, designing--the idea of\nindirection is involved.[20] An idea is a method of evading,\ncircumventing, or surmounting through reflection obstacles that\notherwise would have to be attacked by brute force. But ideas may lose\ntheir intellectual quality as they are habitually used. When a child was\nfirst learning to recognize, in some hesitating suspense, cats, dogs,\nhouses, marbles, trees, shoes, and other objects, ideas--conscious and\ntentative meanings--intervened as methods of identification. Now, as a\nrule, the thing and the meaning are so completely fused that there is no\njudgment and no idea proper, but only automatic recognition. On the\nother hand, things that are, as a rule, directly apprehended and\nfamiliar become subjects of judgment when they present themselves in\nunusual contexts: as forms, distances, sizes, positions when we attempt\nto draw them; triangles, squares, and circles when they turn up, not in\nconnection with familiar toys, implements, and utensils, but as problems\nin geometry.\n\n    [20] See Ward, _Psychic Factors of Civilization_, p. 153.\n\n\nSec. 3. _Analysis and Synthesis_\n\n[Sidenote: Judging clears up things: analysis]\n\nThrough judging confused data are cleared up, and seemingly incoherent\nand disconnected facts brought together. Things may have a peculiar\nfeeling for us, they may make a certain indescribable impression upon\nus; the thing may _feel_ round (that is, present a quality which we\nafterwards define as round), an act may seem rude (or what we afterwards\nclassify as rude), and yet this quality may be lost, absorbed, blended\nin the total value of the situation. Only as we need to use just that\naspect of the original situation as a tool of grasping something\nperplexing or obscure in another situation, do we abstract or detach the\nquality so that it becomes individualized. Only because we need to\ncharacterize the shape of some new object or the moral quality of some\nnew act, does the element of roundness or rudeness in the old experience\ndetach itself, and stand out as a distinctive feature. If the element\nthus selected clears up what is otherwise obscure in the new experience,\nif it settles what is uncertain, it thereby itself gains in positiveness\nand definiteness of meaning. This point will meet us again in the\nfollowing chapter; here we shall speak of the matter only as it bears\nupon the questions of analysis and synthesis.\n\n[Sidenote: Mental analysis is not like physical division]\n\n[Sidenote: Misapprehension of analysis in education]\n\nEven when it is definitely stated that intellectual and physical\nanalyses are different sorts of operations, intellectual analysis is\noften treated after the analogy of physical; as if it were the breaking\nup of a whole into all its constituent parts in the mind instead of in\nspace. As nobody can possibly tell what breaking a whole into its parts\nin the mind means, this conception leads to the further notion that\nlogical analysis is a mere enumeration and listing of all conceivable\nqualities and relations. The influence upon education of this\nconception has been very great.[21] Every subject in the curriculum has\npassed through--or still remains in--what may be called the phase of\nanatomical or morphological method: the stage in which understanding the\nsubject is thought to consist of multiplying distinctions of quality,\nform, relation, and so on, and attaching some name to each distinguished\nelement. In normal growth, specific properties are emphasized and so\nindividualized only when they serve to clear up a present difficulty.\nOnly as they are involved in judging some specific situation is there\nany motive or use for analyses, _i.e._ for emphasis upon some element or\nrelation as peculiarly significant.\n\n    [21] Thus arise all those falsely analytic methods in geography,\n    reading, writing, drawing, botany, arithmetic, which we have already\n    considered in another connection. (See p. 59.)\n\n[Sidenote: Effects of premature formulation]\n\nThe same putting the cart before the horse, the product before the\nprocess, is found in that overconscious formulation of methods of\nprocedure so current in elementary instruction. (See p. 60.) The method\nthat is employed in discovery, in reflective inquiry, cannot possibly be\nidentified with the method that emerges _after_ the discovery is made.\nIn the genuine operation of inference, the mind is in the attitude of\n_search_, of _hunting_, of _projection_, of _trying this and that_; when\nthe conclusion is reached, the search is at an end. The Greeks used to\ndiscuss: \"How is learning (or inquiry) possible? For either we know\nalready what we are after, and then we do not learn or inquire; or we do\nnot know, and then we cannot inquire, for we do not know what to look\nfor.\" The dilemma is at least suggestive, for it points to the true\nalternative: the use in inquiry of doubt, of tentative suggestion, of\nexperimentation. After we have reached the conclusion, a\nreconsideration of the steps of the process to see what is helpful, what\nis harmful, what is merely useless, will assist in dealing more promptly\nand efficaciously with analogous problems in the future. In this way,\nmore or less explicit method is gradually built up. (Compare the earlier\ndiscussion on p. 62 of the psychological and the logical.)\n\n[Sidenote: Method comes before its formulation]\n\nIt is, however, a common assumption that unless the pupil from the\noutset _consciously recognizes and explicitly states_ the method\nlogically implied in the result he is to reach, he will have _no_\nmethod, and his mind will work confusedly or anarchically; while if he\naccompanies his performance with conscious statement of some form of\nprocedure (outline, topical analysis, list of headings and subheadings,\nuniform formula) his mind is safeguarded and strengthened. As a matter\nof fact, the development of _an unconscious logical attitude and habit_\nmust come first. A conscious setting forth of the method logically\nadapted for reaching an end is possible only after the result has first\nbeen reached by more unconscious and tentative methods, while it is\nvaluable only when a review of the method that achieved success in a\ngiven case will throw light upon a new, similar case. The ability to\nfasten upon and single out (abstract, analyze) those features of one\nexperience which are logically best is hindered by premature insistence\nupon their explicit formulation. It is repeated use that gives a\n_method_ definiteness; and given this definiteness, precipitation into\nformulated statement should follow naturally. But because teachers find\nthat the things which they themselves best understand are marked off and\ndefined in clear-cut ways, our schoolrooms are pervaded with the\nsuperstition that children are to begin with already crystallized\nformulae of method.\n\n[Sidenote: Judgment reveals the bearing or significance of facts:\nsynthesis]\n\nAs analysis is conceived to be a sort of picking to pieces, so synthesis\nis thought to be a sort of physical piecing together; and so imagined,\nit also becomes a mystery. In fact, synthesis takes place wherever we\ngrasp the bearing of facts on a conclusion, or of a principle on facts.\nAs analysis is _emphasis_, so synthesis is _placing_; the one causes the\nemphasized fact or property to stand out as significant; the other gives\nwhat is selected its _context_, or its connection with what is\nsignified. Every judgment is analytic in so far as it involves\ndiscernment, discrimination, marking off the trivial from the important,\nthe irrelevant from what points to a conclusion; and it is synthetic in\nso far as it leaves the mind with an inclusive situation within which\nthe selected facts are placed.\n\n[Sidenote: Analysis and synthesis are correlative]\n\nEducational methods that pride themselves on being exclusively analytic\nor exclusively synthetic are therefore (so far as they carry out their\nboasts) incompatible with normal operations of judgment. Discussions\nhave taken place, for example, as to whether the teaching of geography\nshould be analytic or synthetic. The synthetic method is supposed to\nbegin with the partial, limited portion of the earth's surface already\nfamiliar to the pupil, and then gradually piece on adjacent regions (the\ncounty, the country, the continent, and so on) till an idea of the\nentire globe is reached, or of the solar system that includes the globe.\nThe analytic method is supposed to begin with the physical whole, the\nsolar system or globe, and to work down through its constituent portions\ntill the immediate environment is reached. The underlying conceptions\nare of physical wholes and physical parts. As matter of fact, we cannot\nassume that the portion of the earth already familiar to the child is\nsuch a definite object, mentally, that he can at once begin with it; his\nknowledge of it is misty and vague as well as incomplete. Accordingly,\nmental progress will involve analysis of it--emphasis of the features\nthat are significant, so that they will stand out clearly. Moreover, his\nown locality is not sharply marked off, neatly bounded, and measured.\nHis experience of it is already an experience that involves sun, moon,\nand stars as parts of the scene he surveys; it involves a changing\nhorizon line as he moves about; that is, even his more limited and local\nexperience involves far-reaching factors that take his imagination clear\nbeyond his own street and village. Connection, relationship with a\nlarger whole, is already involved. But his recognition of these\nrelations is inadequate, vague, incorrect. He needs to utilize the\nfeatures of the local environment which are understood to help clarify\nand enlarge his conceptions of the larger geographical scene to which\nthey belong. At the same time, not till he has grasped the larger scene\nwill many of even the commonest features of his environment become\nintelligible. Analysis leads to synthesis; while synthesis perfects\nanalysis. As the pupil grows in comprehension of the vast complicated\nearth in its setting in space, he also sees more definitely the meaning\nof the familiar local details. This intimate interaction between\nselective emphasis and interpretation of what is selected is found\nwherever reflection proceeds normally. Hence the folly of trying to set\nanalysis and synthesis over against each other.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER NINE\n\nMEANING: OR CONCEPTIONS AND UNDERSTANDING\n\n\nSec. 1. _The Place of Meanings in Mental Life_\n\n[Sidenote: Meaning is central]\n\nAs in our discussion of judgment we were making more explicit what is\ninvolved in inference, so in the discussion of meaning we are only\nrecurring to the central function of all reflection. For one thing to\n_mean_, _signify_, _betoken_, _indicate_, or _point to_, another we saw\nat the outset to be the essential mark of thinking (see p. 8). To find\nout what facts, just as they stand, mean, is the object of all\ndiscovery; to find out what facts will carry out, substantiate, support\na given meaning, is the object of all testing. When an inference reaches\na satisfactory conclusion, we attain a goal of meaning. The act of\njudging involves both the growth and the application of meanings. In\nshort, in this chapter we are not introducing a new topic; we are only\ncoming to closer quarters with what hitherto has been constantly\nassumed. In the first section, we shall consider the equivalence of\nmeaning and understanding, and the two types of understanding, direct\nand indirect.\n\n\nI. MEANING AND UNDERSTANDING\n\n[Sidenote: To understand is to grasp meaning]\n\nIf a person comes suddenly into your room and calls out \"Paper,\" various\nalternatives are possible. If you do not understand the English\nlanguage, there is simply a noise which may or may not act as a physical\nstimulus and irritant. But the noise is not an intellectual object; it\ndoes not have intellectual value. (Compare above, p. 15.) To say that\nyou do not understand it and that it has no meaning are equivalents. If\nthe cry is the usual accompaniment of the delivery of the morning paper,\nthe sound will have meaning, intellectual content; you will understand\nit. Or if you are eagerly awaiting the receipt of some important\ndocument, you may assume that the cry means an announcement of its\narrival. If (in the third place) you understand the English language,\nbut no context suggests itself from your habits and expectations, the\n_word_ has meaning, but not the whole event. You are then perplexed and\nincited to think out, to hunt for, some explanation of the apparently\nmeaningless occurrence. If you find something that accounts for the\nperformance, it gets meaning; you come to understand it. As intelligent\nbeings, we presume the existence of meaning, and its absence is an\nanomaly. Hence, if it should turn out that the person merely meant to\ninform you that there was a scrap of paper on the sidewalk, or that\npaper existed somewhere in the universe, you would think him crazy or\nyourself the victim of a poor joke. To grasp a meaning, to understand,\nto identify a thing in a situation in which it is important, are thus\nequivalent terms; they express the nerves of our intellectual life.\nWithout them there is (_a_) lack of intellectual content, or (_b_)\nintellectual confusion and perplexity, or else (_c_) intellectual\nperversion--nonsense, insanity.\n\n[Sidenote: Knowledge and meaning]\n\nAll knowledge, all science, thus aims to grasp the meaning of objects\nand events, and this process always consists in taking them out of their\napparent brute isolation as events, and finding them to be parts of\nsome larger whole _suggested by them_, which, in turn, _accounts for_,\n_explains_, _interprets them_; _i.e._ renders them significant. (Compare\nabove, p. 75.) Suppose that a stone with peculiar markings has been\nfound. What do these scratches mean? So far as the object forces the\nraising of this question, it is not understood; while so far as the\ncolor and form that we see mean to us a stone, the object is understood.\nIt is such peculiar combinations of the understood and the nonunderstood\nthat provoke thought. If at the end of the inquiry, the markings are\ndecided to mean glacial scratches, obscure and perplexing traits have\nbeen translated into meanings already understood: namely, the moving and\ngrinding power of large bodies of ice and the friction thus induced of\none rock upon another. Something already understood in one situation has\nbeen transferred and applied to what is strange and perplexing in\nanother, and thereby the latter has become plain and familiar, _i.e._\nunderstood. This summary illustration discloses that our power to think\neffectively depends upon possession of a capital fund of meanings which\nmay be applied when desired. (Compare what was said about deduction, p.\n94.)\n\n\nII. DIRECT AND INDIRECT UNDERSTANDING\n\n[Sidenote: Direct and circuitous understanding]\n\nIn the above illustrations two types of grasping of meaning are\nexemplified. When the English language is understood, the person grasps\nat once the meaning of \"paper.\" He may not, however, see any meaning or\nsense in the performance as a whole. Similarly, the person identifies\nthe object on sight as a stone; there is no secret, no mystery, no\nperplexity about that. But he does not understand the markings on it.\nThey have some meaning, but what is it? In one case, owing to familiar\nacquaintance, the thing and its meaning, up to a certain point, are one.\nIn the other, the thing and its meaning are, temporarily at least,\nsundered, and meaning has to be sought in order to understand the thing.\nIn one case understanding is direct, prompt, immediate; in the other, it\nis roundabout and delayed.\n\n[Sidenote: Interaction of the two types]\n\nMost languages have two sets of words to express these two modes of\nunderstanding; one for the direct taking in or grasp of meaning, the\nother for its circuitous apprehension, thus: [Greek: gnonai] and\n[Greek: eidenai] in Greek; _noscere_ and _scire_ in Latin; _kennen_ and\n_wissen_ in German; _connaitre_ and _savoir_ in French; while in English\nto be _acquainted with_ and to _know of or about_ have been suggested as\nequivalents.[22] Now our intellectual life consists of a peculiar\ninteraction between these two types of understanding. All judgment, all\nreflective inference, presupposes some lack of understanding, a partial\nabsence of meaning. We reflect in order that we may get hold of the full\nand adequate significance of what happens. Nevertheless, _something_\nmust be already understood, the mind must be in possession of some\nmeaning which it has mastered, or else thinking is impossible. We think\nin order to grasp meaning, but none the less every extension of\nknowledge makes us aware of blind and opaque spots, where with less\nknowledge all had seemed obvious and natural. A scientist brought into a\nnew district will find many things that he does not understand, where\nthe native savage or rustic will be wholly oblivious to any meanings\nbeyond those directly apparent. Some Indians brought to a large city\nremained stolid at the sight of mechanical wonders of bridge, trolley,\nand telephone, but were held spellbound by the sight of workmen climbing\npoles to repair wires. Increase of the store of meanings makes us\nconscious of new problems, while only through translation of the new\nperplexities into what is already familiar and plain do we understand or\nsolve these problems. This is the constant spiral movement of knowledge.\n\n    [22] James, _Principles of Psychology_, vol. I, p. 221. To _know_\n    and to _know that_ are perhaps more precise equivalents; compare \"I\n    know him\" and \"I know that he has gone home.\" The former expresses a\n    fact simply; for the latter, evidence might be demanded and\n    supplied.\n\n[Sidenote: Intellectual progress a rhythm]\n\nOur progress in genuine knowledge always consists _in part in the\ndiscovery of something not understood in what had previously been taken\nfor granted as plain, obvious, matter-of-course, and in part in the use\nof meanings that are directly grasped without question, as instruments\nfor getting hold of obscure, doubtful, and perplexing meanings_. No\nobject is so familiar, so obvious, so commonplace that it may not\nunexpectedly present, in a novel situation, some problem, and thus\narouse reflection in order to understand it. No object or principle is\nso strange, peculiar, or remote that it may not be dwelt upon till its\nmeaning becomes familiar--taken in on sight without reflection. We may\ncome to _see_, _perceive_, _recognize_, _grasp_, _seize_, _lay hold of_\nprinciples, laws, abstract truths--_i.e._ to understand their meaning in\nvery immediate fashion. Our intellectual progress consists, as has been\nsaid, in a rhythm of direct understanding--technically called\n_ap_prehension--with indirect, mediated understanding--technically\ncalled _com_prehension.\n\n\nSec. 2. _The Process of Acquiring Meanings_\n\n[Sidenote: Familiarity]\n\nThe first problem that comes up in connection with direct understanding\nis how a store of directly apprehensible meanings is built up. How do\nwe learn to view things on sight as significant members of a situation,\nor as having, as a matter of course, specific meanings? Our chief\ndifficulty in answering this question lies in the thoroughness with\nwhich the lesson of familiar things has been learnt. Thought can more\neasily traverse an unexplored region than it can undo what has been so\nthoroughly done as to be ingrained in unconscious habit. We apprehend\nchairs, tables, books, trees, horses, clouds, stars, rain, so promptly\nand directly that it is hard to realize that as meanings they had once\nto be acquired,--the meanings are now so much parts of the things\nthemselves.\n\n[Sidenote: Confusion is prior to familiarity]\n\nIn an often quoted passage, Mr. James has said: \"The baby, assailed by\neyes, ears, nose, skin, and entrails at once, feels it all as one great\nblooming, buzzing confusion.\"[23] Mr. James is speaking of a baby's\nworld taken as a whole; the description, however, is equally applicable\nto the way any new thing strikes an adult, so far as the thing is really\nnew and strange. To the traditional \"cat in a strange garret,\"\neverything is blurred and confused; the wonted marks that label things\nso as to separate them from one another are lacking. Foreign languages\nthat we do not understand always seem jabberings, babblings, in which it\nis impossible to fix a definite, clear-cut, individualized group of\nsounds. The countryman in the crowded city street, the landlubber at\nsea, the ignoramus in sport at a contest between experts in a\ncomplicated game, are further instances. Put an unexperienced man in a\nfactory, and at first the work seems to him a meaningless medley. All\nstrangers of another race proverbially look alike to the visiting\nforeigner. Only gross differences of size or color are perceived by an\noutsider in a flock of sheep, each of which is perfectly individualized\nto the shepherd. A diffusive blur and an indiscriminately shifting\nsuction characterize what we do not understand. The problem of the\nacquisition of meaning by things, or (stated in another way) of forming\nhabits of simple apprehension, is thus the problem of introducing (_i_)\n_definiteness_ and _distinction_ and (_ii_) _consistency_ or _stability_\nof meaning into what is otherwise vague and wavering.\n\n    [23] _Principles of Psychology_, vol. I, p. 488.\n\n[Sidenote: Practical responses clarify confusion]\n\nThe acquisition of definiteness and of coherency (or constancy) of\nmeanings is derived primarily from practical activities. By rolling an\nobject, the child makes its roundness appreciable; by bouncing it, he\nsingles out its elasticity; by throwing it, he makes weight its\nconspicuous distinctive factor. Not through the senses, but by means of\nthe reaction, the responsive adjustment, is the impression made\ndistinctive, and given a character marked off from other qualities that\ncall out unlike reactions. Children, for example, are usually quite slow\nin apprehending differences of color. Differences from the standpoint of\nthe adult so glaring that it is impossible not to note them are\nrecognized and recalled with great difficulty. Doubtless they do not all\n_feel_ alike, but there is no intellectual recognition of what makes the\ndifference. The redness or greenness or blueness of the object does not\ntend to call out a reaction that is sufficiently peculiar to give\nprominence or distinction to the color trait. Gradually, however,\ncertain characteristic habitual responses associate themselves with\ncertain things; the white becomes the sign, say, of milk and sugar, to\nwhich the child reacts favorably; blue becomes the sign of a dress that\nthe child likes to wear, and so on: and the distinctive reactions tend\nto single out color qualities from other things in which they had been\nsubmerged.\n\n[Sidenote: We identify by use or function]\n\nTake another example. We have little difficulty in distinguishing from\none another rakes, hoes, plows and harrows, shovels and spades. Each has\nits own associated characteristic use and function. We may have,\nhowever, great difficulty in recalling the difference between serrate\nand dentate, ovoid and obovoid, in the shapes and edges of leaves, or\nbetween acids in _ic_ and in _ous_. There is some difference; but just\nwhat? Or, we know what the difference is; but which is which? Variations\nin form, size, color, and arrangement of parts have much less to do, and\nthe uses, purposes, and functions of things and of their parts much more\nto do, with distinctness of character and meaning than we should be\nlikely to think. What misleads us is the fact that the qualities of\nform, size, color, and so on, are _now_ so distinct that we fail to see\nthat the problem is precisely to account for the way in which they\noriginally obtained their definiteness and conspicuousness. So far as we\nsit passive before objects, they are not distinguished out of a vague\nblur which swallows them all. Differences in the pitch and intensity of\nsounds leave behind a different feeling, but until we assume different\nattitudes toward them, or _do_ something special in reference to them,\ntheir vague difference cannot be _intellectually_ gripped and retained.\n\n[Sidenote: Children's drawings illustrate domination by value]\n\nChildren's drawings afford a further exemplification of the same\nprinciple. Perspective does not exist, for the child's interest is not\nin _pictorial representation_, but in the _things_ represented; and\nwhile perspective is essential to the former, it is no part of the\ncharacteristic uses and values of the things themselves. The house is\ndrawn with transparent walls, because the rooms, chairs, beds, people\ninside, are the important things in the house-meaning; smoke always\ncomes out of the chimney--otherwise, why have a chimney at all? At\nChristmas time, the stockings may be drawn almost as large as the house\nor even so large that they have to be put outside of it:--in any case,\nit is the scale of values in use that furnishes the scale for their\nqualities, the pictures being diagrammatic reminders of these values,\nnot impartial records of physical and sensory qualities. One of the\nchief difficulties felt by most persons in learning the art of pictorial\nrepresentation is that habitual uses and results of use have become so\nintimately read into the character of things that it is practically\nimpossible to shut them out at will.\n\n[Sidenote: As do sounds used as language signs]\n\nThe acquiring of meaning by sounds, in virtue of which they become\nwords, is perhaps the most striking illustration that can be found of\nthe way in which mere sensory stimuli acquire definiteness and constancy\nof meaning and are thereby themselves defined and interconnected for\npurposes of recognition. Language is a specially good example because\nthere are hundreds or even thousands of words in which meaning is now so\nthoroughly consolidated with physical qualities as to be directly\napprehended, while in the case of words it is easier to recognize that\nthis connection has been gradually and laboriously acquired than in the\ncase of physical objects such as chairs, tables, buttons, trees, stones,\nhills, flowers, and so on, where it seems as if the union of\nintellectual character and meaning with the physical fact were\naboriginal, and thrust upon us passively rather than acquired through\nactive explorations. And in the case of the meaning of words, we see\nreadily that it is by making sounds and noting the results which\nfollow, by listening to the sounds of others and watching the activities\nwhich accompany them, that a given sound finally becomes the stable\nbearer of a meaning.\n\n[Sidenote: Summary]\n\nFamiliar acquaintance with meanings thus signifies that we have acquired\nin the presence of objects definite attitudes of response which lead us,\nwithout reflection, to anticipate certain possible consequences. The\ndefiniteness of the expectation defines the meaning or takes it out of\nthe vague and pulpy; its habitual, recurrent character gives the meaning\nconstancy, stability, consistency, or takes it out of the fluctuating\nand wavering.\n\n\nSec. 3. _Conceptions and Meaning_\n\n[Sidenote: A conception is a definite meaning]\n\nThe word _meaning_ is a familiar everyday term; the words _conception_,\n_notion_, are both popular and technical terms. Strictly speaking, they\ninvolve, however, nothing new; any meaning sufficiently individualized\nto be directly grasped and readily used, and thus fixed by a word, is a\nconception or notion. Linguistically, every common noun is the carrier\nof a meaning, while proper nouns and common nouns with the word _this_\nor _that_ prefixed, refer to the things in which the meanings are\nexemplified. That thinking both employs and expands notions,\nconceptions, is then simply saying that in inference and judgment we use\nmeanings, and that this use also corrects and widens them.\n\n[Sidenote: which is standardized]\n\nVarious persons talk about an object not physically present, and yet all\nget the same material of belief. The same person in different moments\noften refers to the same object or kind of objects. The sense\nexperience, the physical conditions, the psychological conditions, vary,\nbut the same meaning is conserved. If pounds arbitrarily changed their\nweight, and foot rules their length, while we were using them, obviously\nwe could not weigh nor measure. This would be our intellectual position\nif meanings could not be maintained with a certain stability and\nconstancy through a variety of physical and personal changes.\n\n[Sidenote: By it we identify the unknown]\n\n[Sidenote: and supplement the sensibly present]\n\n[Sidenote: and also systematize things]\n\nTo insist upon the fundamental importance of conceptions would,\naccordingly, only repeat what has been said. We shall merely summarize,\nsaying that conceptions, or standard meanings, are instruments (_i_) of\nidentification, (_ii_) of supplementation, and (_iii_) of placing in a\nsystem. Suppose a little speck of light hitherto unseen is detected in\nthe heavens. Unless there is a store of meanings to fall back upon as\ntools of inquiry and reasoning, that speck of light will remain just\nwhat it is to the senses--a mere speck of light. For all that it leads\nto, it might as well be a mere irritation of the optic nerve. Given the\nstock of meanings acquired in prior experience, this speck of light is\nmentally attacked by means of appropriate concepts. Does it indicate\nasteroid, or comet, or a new-forming sun, or a nebula resulting from\nsome cosmic collision or disintegration? Each of these conceptions has\nits own specific and differentiating characters, which are then sought\nfor by minute and persistent inquiry. As a result, then, the speck is\nidentified, we will say, as a comet. Through a standard meaning, it gets\nidentity and stability of character. Supplementation then takes place.\nAll the known qualities of comets are read into this particular thing,\neven though they have not been as yet observed. All that the astronomers\nof the past have learned about the paths and structure of comets becomes\navailable capital with which to interpret the speck of light. Finally,\nthis comet-meaning is itself not isolated; it is a related portion of\nthe whole system of astronomic knowledge. Suns, planets, satellites,\nnebulae, comets, meteors, star dust--all these conceptions have a certain\nmutuality of reference and interaction, and when the speck of light is\nidentified as meaning a comet, it is at once adopted as a full member in\nthis vast kingdom of beliefs.\n\n[Sidenote: Importance of system to knowledge]\n\nDarwin, in an autobiographical sketch, says that when a youth he told\nthe geologist, Sidgwick, of finding a tropical shell in a certain gravel\npit. Thereupon Sidgwick said it must have been thrown there by some\nperson, adding: \"But if it were really embedded there, it would be the\ngreatest misfortune to geology, because it would overthrow all that we\nknow about the superficial deposits of the Midland Counties\"--since they\nwere glacial. And then Darwin adds: \"I was then utterly astonished at\nSidgwick not being delighted at so wonderful a fact as a tropical shell\nbeing found near the surface in the middle of England. Nothing before\nhad made me thoroughly realize _that science consists in grouping facts\nso that general laws or conclusions may be drawn from them_.\" This\ninstance (which might, of course, be duplicated from any branch of\nscience) indicates how scientific notions make explicit the\nsystematizing tendency involved in all use of concepts.\n\n\nSec. 4. _What Conceptions are Not_\n\nThe idea that a conception is a meaning that supplies a standard rule\nfor the identification and placing of particulars may be contrasted with\nsome current misapprehensions of its nature.\n\n[Sidenote: A concept is not a bare residue]\n\n1. Conceptions are not derived from a multitude of different definite\nobjects by leaving out the qualities in which they differ and retaining\nthose in which they agree. The origin of concepts is sometimes described\nto be as if a child began with a lot of different particular things, say\nparticular dogs; his own Fido, his neighbor's Carlo, his cousin's Tray.\nHaving all these different objects before him, he analyzes them into a\nlot of different qualities, say (_a_) color, (_b_) size, (_c_) shape,\n(_d_) number of legs, (_e_) quantity and quality of hair, (_f_)\ndigestive organs, and so on; and then strikes out all the unlike\nqualities (such as color, size, shape, hair), retaining traits such as\nquadruped and domesticated, which they all have in general.\n\n[Sidenote: but an active attitude]\n\nAs a matter of fact, the child begins with whatever significance he has\ngot out of the one dog he has seen, heard, and handled. He has found\nthat he can carry over from one experience of this object to subsequent\nexperience certain expectations of certain characteristic modes of\nbehavior--may expect these even before they show themselves. He tends to\nassume this attitude of anticipation whenever any clue or stimulus\npresents itself; whenever the object gives him any excuse for it. Thus\nhe might call cats little dogs, or horses big dogs. But finding that\nother expected traits and modes of behavior are not fulfilled, he is\nforced to throw out certain traits from the dog-meaning, while by\ncontrast (see p. 90) certain other traits are selected and emphasized.\nAs he further applies the meaning to other dogs, the dog-meaning gets\nstill further defined and refined. He does not begin with a lot of\nready-made objects from which he extracts a common meaning; he tries to\napply to every new experience whatever from his old experience will help\nhim understand it, and as this process of constant assumption and\nexperimentation is fulfilled and refuted by results, his conceptions get\nbody and clearness.\n\n[Sidenote: It is general because of its application]\n\n2. Similarly, conceptions are general because of their use and\napplication, not because of their ingredients. The view of the origin of\nconception in an impossible sort of analysis has as its counterpart the\nidea that the conception is made up out of all the like elements that\nremain after dissection of a number of individuals. Not so; the moment a\nmeaning is gained, it is a working tool of further apprehensions, an\ninstrument of understanding other things. Thereby the meaning is\n_extended_ to cover them. Generality resides in application to the\ncomprehension of new cases, not in constituent parts. A collection of\ntraits left as the common residuum, the _caput mortuum_, of a million\nobjects, would be merely a collection, an inventory or aggregate, not a\n_general idea_; a striking trait emphasized in any one experience which\nthen served to help understand some one other experience, would become,\nin virtue of that service of application, in so far general. Synthesis\nis not a matter of mechanical addition, but of application of something\ndiscovered in one case to bring other cases into line.\n\n\nSec. 5. _Definition and Organization of Meanings_\n\n[Sidenote: Definiteness _versus_ vagueness]\n\n[Sidenote: In the abstract meaning is intension]\n\n[Sidenote: In its application it is extension]\n\nA being that cannot understand at all is at least protected from\n_mis_-understandings. But beings that get knowledge by means of\ninferring and interpreting, by judging what things signify in relation\nto one another, are constantly exposed to the danger of\n_mis_-apprehension, _mis_-understanding, _mis_-taking--taking a thing\namiss. A constant source of misunderstanding and mistake is\nindefiniteness of meaning. Through vagueness of meaning we\nmisunderstand other people, things, and ourselves; through its ambiguity\nwe distort and pervert. Conscious distortion of meaning may be enjoyed\nas nonsense; erroneous meanings, if clear-cut, may be followed up and\ngot rid of. But vague meanings are too gelatinous to offer matter for\nanalysis, and too pulpy to afford support to other beliefs. They evade\ntesting and responsibility. Vagueness disguises the unconscious mixing\ntogether of different meanings, and facilitates the substitution of one\nmeaning for another, and covers up the failure to have any precise\nmeaning at all. It is the aboriginal logical sin--the source from which\nflow most bad intellectual consequences. Totally to eliminate\nindefiniteness is impossible; to reduce it in extent and in force\nrequires sincerity and vigor. To be clear or perspicuous a meaning must\nbe detached, single, self-contained, homogeneous as it were, throughout.\nThe technical name for any meaning which is thus individualized is\n_intension_. The process of arriving at such units of meaning (and of\nstating them when reached) is _definition_. The intension of the terms\n_man_, _river_, _seed_, _honesty_, _capital_, _supreme court_, is the\nmeaning that _exclusively_ and _characteristically_ attaches to those\nterms. This meaning is set forth in the definitions of those words. The\ntest of the distinctness of a meaning is that it shall successfully mark\noff a group of things that exemplify the meaning from other groups,\nespecially of those objects that convey nearly allied meanings. The\nriver-meaning (or character) must serve to _designate_ the Rhone, the\nRhine, the Mississippi, the Hudson, the Wabash, in spite of their\nvarieties of place, length, quality of water; and must be such as _not_\nto suggest ocean currents, ponds, or brooks. This use of a meaning to\nmark off and group together a variety of distinct existences constitutes\nits _extension_.\n\n[Sidenote: Definition and division]\n\nAs definition sets forth intension, so division (or the reverse process,\nclassification) expounds extension. Intension and extension, definition\nand division, are clearly correlative; in language previously used,\n_intension_ is meaning as a principle of identifying particulars;\nextension is the group of particulars identified and distinguished.\nMeaning, as extension, would be wholly in the air or unreal, did it not\npoint to some object or group of objects; while objects would be as\nisolated and independent intellectually as they seem to be spatially,\nwere they not bound into groups or classes on the basis of\ncharacteristic meanings which they constantly suggest and exemplify.\nTaken together, definition and division put us in possession of\nindividualized or definite meanings and indicate to what group of\nobjects meanings refer. They typify the fixation and the organization of\nmeanings. In the degree in which the meanings of any set of experiences\nare so cleared up as to serve as principles for grouping those\nexperiences in relation to one another, that set of particulars becomes\na science; _i.e._ definition and classification are the marks of a\nscience, as distinct from both unrelated heaps of miscellaneous\ninformation and from the habits that introduce coherence into our\nexperience without our being aware of their operation.\n\nDefinitions are of three types, _denotative_, _expository_,\n_scientific_. Of these, the first and third are logically important,\nwhile the expository type is socially and pedagogically important as an\nintervening step.\n\n[Sidenote: We define by picking out]\n\nI. Denotative. A blind man can never have an adequate understanding of\nthe meaning of _color_ and _red_; a seeing person can acquire the\nknowledge only by having certain things designated in such a way as to\nfix attention upon some of their qualities. This method of delimiting a\nmeaning by calling out a certain attitude toward objects may be called\n_denotative_ or _indicative_. It is required for all sense\nqualities--sounds, tastes, colors--and equally for all emotional and\nmoral qualities. The meanings of _honesty_, _sympathy_, _hatred_,\n_fear_, must be grasped by having them presented in an individual's\nfirst-hand experience. The reaction of educational reformers against\nlinguistic and bookish training has always taken the form of demanding\nrecourse to personal experience. However advanced the person is in\nknowledge and in scientific training, understanding of a new subject, or\na new aspect of an old subject, must always be through these acts of\nexperiencing directly the existence or quality in question.\n\n[Sidenote: and also by combining what is already more definite,]\n\n2. Expository. Given a certain store of meanings which have been\ndirectly or denotatively marked out, language becomes a resource by\nwhich imaginative combinations and variations may be built up. A color\nmay be defined to one who has not experienced it as lying between green\nand blue; a tiger may be defined (_i.e._ the idea of it made more\ndefinite) by selecting some qualities from known members of the cat\ntribe and combining them with qualities of size and weight derived from\nother objects. Illustrations are of the nature of expository\ndefinitions; so are the accounts of meanings given in a dictionary. By\ntaking better-known meanings and associating them,--the attained store\nof meanings of the community in which one resides is put at one's\ndisposal. But in themselves these definitions are secondhand and\nconventional; there is danger that instead of inciting one to effort\nafter personal experiences that will exemplify and verify them, they\nwill be accepted on authority as _substitutes_.\n\n[Sidenote: and by discovering method of production]\n\n3. Scientific. Even popular definitions serve as rules for identifying\nand classifying individuals, but the purpose of such identifications and\nclassifications is mainly practical and social, not intellectual. To\nconceive the whale as a fish does not interfere with the success of\nwhalers, nor does it prevent recognition of a whale when seen, while to\nconceive it not as fish but as mammal serves the practical end equally\nwell, and also furnishes a much more valuable principle for scientific\nidentification and classification. Popular definitions select certain\nfairly obvious traits as keys to classification. Scientific definitions\nselect _conditions of causation, production, and generation_ as their\ncharacteristic material. The traits used by the popular definition do\nnot help us to understand why an object has its common meanings and\nqualities; they simply state the fact that it does have them. Causal and\ngenetic definitions fix upon the way an object is constructed as the key\nto its being a certain kind of object, and thereby explain why it has\nits class or common traits.\n\n[Sidenote: Contrast of causal and descriptive definitions]\n\n[Sidenote: Science is the most perfect type of knowledge because it uses\ncausal definitions]\n\nIf, for example, a layman of considerable practical experience were\nasked what he meant or understood by _metal_, he would probably reply in\nterms of the qualities useful (_i_) in recognizing any given metal and\n(_ii_) in the arts. Smoothness, hardness, glossiness, and brilliancy,\nheavy weight for its size, would probably be included in his definition,\nbecause such traits enable us to identify specific things when we see\nand touch them; the serviceable properties of capacity for being\nhammered and pulled without breaking, of being softened by heat and\nhardened by cold, of retaining the shape and form given, of resistance\nto pressure and decay, would probably be included--whether or not such\nterms as _malleable_ or _fusible_ were used. Now a scientific\nconception, instead of using, even with additions, traits of this kind,\ndetermines _meaning on a different basis_. The present definition of\nmetal is about like this: Metal means any chemical element that enters\ninto combination with oxygen so as to form a base, _i.e._ a compound\nthat combines with an acid to form a salt. This scientific definition is\nfounded, not on directly perceived qualities nor on directly useful\nproperties, but on the _way in which certain things are causally related\nto other things_; _i.e._ it denotes a relation. As chemical concepts\nbecome more and more those of relationships of interaction in\nconstituting other substances, so physical concepts express more and\nmore relations of operation: mathematical, as expressing functions of\ndependence and order of grouping; biological, relations of\ndifferentiation of descent, effected through adjustment of various\nenvironments; and so on through the sphere of the sciences. In short,\nour conceptions attain a maximum of definite individuality and of\ngenerality (or applicability) in the degree to which they show how\nthings depend upon one another or influence one another, instead of\nexpressing the qualities that objects possess statically. The ideal of a\nsystem of scientific conceptions is to attain continuity, freedom, and\nflexibility of transition in passing from any fact and meaning to any\nother; this demand is met in the degree in which we lay hold of the\ndynamic ties that hold things together in a continuously changing\nprocess--a principle that states insight into mode of production or\ngrowth.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER TEN\n\nCONCRETE AND ABSTRACT THINKING\n\n\n[Sidenote: False notions of concrete and abstract]\n\nThe maxim enjoined upon teachers, \"to proceed from the concrete to the\nabstract,\" is perhaps familiar rather than comprehended. Few who read\nand hear it gain a clear conception of the starting-point, the concrete;\nof the nature of the goal, the abstract; and of the exact nature of the\npath to be traversed in going from one to the other. At times the\ninjunction is positively misunderstood, being taken to mean that\neducation should advance from things to thought--as if any dealing with\nthings in which thinking is not involved could possibly be educative. So\nunderstood, the maxim encourages mechanical routine or sensuous\nexcitation at one end of the educational scale--the lower--and academic\nand unapplied learning at the upper end.\n\nActually, all dealing with things, even the child's, is immersed in\ninferences; things are clothed by the suggestions they arouse, and are\nsignificant as challenges to interpretation or as evidences to\nsubstantiate a belief. Nothing could be more unnatural than instruction\nin things without thought; in sense-perceptions without judgments based\nupon them. And if the abstract to which we are to proceed denotes\nthought apart from things, the goal recommended is formal and empty,\nfor effective thought always refers, more or less directly, to things.\n\n[Sidenote: Direct and indirect understanding again]\n\nYet the maxim has a meaning which, understood and supplemented, states\nthe line of development of logical capacity. What is this signification?\nConcrete denotes a meaning definitely marked off from other meanings so\nthat it is readily apprehended by itself. When we hear the words,\n_table_, _chair_, _stove_, _coat_, we do not have to reflect in order to\ngrasp what is meant. The terms convey meaning so directly that no effort\nat translating is needed. The meanings of some terms and things,\nhowever, are grasped only by first calling to mind more familiar things\nand then tracing out connections between them and what we do not\nunderstand. Roughly speaking, the former kind of meanings is concrete;\nthe latter abstract.\n\n[Sidenote: What is familiar is mentally concrete]\n\nTo one who is thoroughly at home in physics and chemistry, the notions\nof _atom_ and _molecule_ are fairly concrete. They are constantly used\nwithout involving any labor of thought in apprehending what they mean.\nBut the layman and the beginner in science have first to remind\nthemselves of things with which they already are well acquainted, and go\nthrough a process of slow translation; the terms _atom_ and _molecule_\nlosing, moreover, their hard-won meaning only too easily if familiar\nthings, and the line of transition from them to the strange, drop out of\nmind. The same difference is illustrated by any technical terms:\n_coefficient_ and _exponent_ in algebra, _triangle_ and _square_ in\ntheir geometric as distinct from their popular meanings; _capital_ and\n_value_ as used in political economy, and so on.\n\n[Sidenote: Practical things are familiar]\n\nThe difference as noted is purely relative to the intellectual progress\nof an individual; what is abstract at one period of growth is concrete\nat another; or even the contrary, as one finds that things supposed to\nbe thoroughly familiar involve strange factors and unsolved problems.\nThere is, nevertheless, a general line of cleavage which, deciding upon\nthe whole what things fall within the limits of familiar acquaintance\nand what without, marks off the concrete and the abstract in a more\npermanent way. _These limits are fixed mainly by the demands of\npractical life._ Things such as sticks and stones, meat and potatoes,\nhouses and trees, are such constant features of the environment of which\nwe have to take account in order to live, that their important meanings\nare soon learnt, and indissolubly associated with objects. We are\nacquainted with a thing (or it is familiar to us) when we have so much\nto do with it that its strange and unexpected corners are rubbed off.\nThe necessities of social intercourse convey to adults a like\nconcreteness upon such terms as _taxes_, _elections_, _wages_, _the\nlaw_, and so on. Things the meaning of which I personally do not take in\ndirectly, appliances of cook, carpenter, or weaver, for example, are\nnevertheless unhesitatingly classed as concrete, since they are so\ndirectly connected with our common social life.\n\n[Sidenote: The theoretical, or strictly intellectual, is abstract]\n\nBy contrast, the abstract is the _theoretical_, or that not intimately\nassociated with practical concerns. The abstract thinker (the man of\npure science as he is sometimes called) deliberately abstracts from\napplication in life; that is, he leaves practical uses out of account.\nThis, however, is a merely negative statement. What remains when\nconnections with use and application are excluded? _Evidently only what\nhas to do with knowing considered as an end in itself._ Many notions of\nscience are abstract, not only because they cannot be understood\nwithout a long apprenticeship in the science (which is equally true of\ntechnical matters in the arts), but also because the whole content of\ntheir meaning has been framed for the sole purpose of facilitating\nfurther knowledge, inquiry, and speculation. _When thinking is used as a\nmeans to some end, good, or value beyond itself, it is concrete; when it\nis employed simply as a means to more thinking, it is abstract._ To a\ntheorist an idea is adequate and self-contained just because it engages\nand rewards thought; to a medical practitioner, an engineer, an artist,\na merchant, a politician, it is complete only when employed in the\nfurthering of some interest in life--health, wealth, beauty, goodness,\nsuccess, or what you will.\n\n[Sidenote: Contempt for theory]\n\nFor the great majority of men under ordinary circumstances, the\npractical exigencies of life are almost, if not quite, coercive. Their\nmain business is the proper conduct of their affairs. Whatever is of\nsignificance only as affording scope for thinking is pallid and\nremote--almost artificial. Hence the contempt felt by the practical and\nsuccessful executive for the \"mere theorist\"; hence his conviction that\ncertain things may be all very well in theory, but that they will not do\nin practice; in general, the depreciatory way in which he uses the terms\n_abstract_, _theoretical_, and _intellectual_--as distinct from\n_intelligent_.\n\n[Sidenote: But theory is highly practical]\n\nThis attitude is justified, of course, under certain conditions. But\ndepreciation of theory does not contain the whole truth, as common or\npractical sense recognizes. There is such a thing, even from the\ncommon-sense standpoint, as being \"too practical,\" as being so intent\nupon the immediately practical as not to see beyond the end of one's\nnose or as to cut off the limb upon which one is sitting. The question\nis one of limits, of degrees and adjustments, rather than one of\nabsolute separation. Truly practical men give their minds free play\nabout a subject without asking too closely at every point for the\nadvantage to be gained; exclusive preoccupation with matters of use and\napplication so narrows the horizon as in the long run to defeat itself.\nIt does not pay to tether one's thoughts to the post of use with too\nshort a rope. Power in action requires some largeness and\nimaginativeness of vision. Men must at least have enough interest in\nthinking for the sake of thinking to escape the limits of routine and\ncustom. Interest in knowledge for the sake of knowledge, in thinking for\nthe sake of the free play of thought, is necessary then to the\n_emancipation_ of practical life--to make it rich and progressive.\n\nWe may now recur to the pedagogic maxim of going from the concrete to\nthe abstract.\n\n[Sidenote: Begin with the concrete means begin with practical\nmanipulations]\n\n1. Since the _concrete_ denotes thinking applied to activities for the\nsake of dealing effectively with the difficulties that present\nthemselves practically, \"beginning with the concrete\" signifies that we\nshould at the outset make much of _doing_; especially, make much in\noccupations that are not of a routine and mechanical kind and hence\nrequire intelligent selection and adaptation of means and materials. We\ndo not \"follow the order of nature\" when we multiply mere sensations or\naccumulate physical objects. Instruction in number is not concrete\nmerely because splints or beans or dots are employed, while whenever the\nuse and bearing of number relations are clearly perceived, the number\nidea is concrete even if figures alone are used. Just what sort of\nsymbol it is best to use at a given time--whether blocks, or lines, or\nfigures--is entirely a matter of adjustment to the given case. If\nphysical things used in teaching number or geography or anything else do\nnot leave the mind illuminated with recognition of a _meaning_ beyond\nthemselves, the instruction that uses them is as abstract as that which\ndoles out ready-made definitions and rules; for it distracts attention\nfrom ideas to mere physical excitations.\n\n[Sidenote: Confusion of the concrete with the sensibly isolated]\n\nThe conception that we have only to put before the senses particular\nphysical objects in order to impress certain ideas upon the mind amounts\nalmost to a superstition. The introduction of object lessons and\nsense-training scored a distinct advance over the prior method of\nlinguistic symbols, and this advance tended to blind educators to the\nfact that only a halfway step had been taken. Things and sensations\ndevelop the child, indeed, but only because he _uses_ them in mastering\nhis body and in the scheme of his activities. Appropriate continuous\noccupations or activities involve the use of natural materials, tools,\nmodes of energy, and do it in a way that compels thinking as to what\nthey mean, how they are related to one another and to the realization of\nends; while the mere isolated presentation of things remains barren and\ndead. A few generations ago the great obstacle in the way of reform of\nprimary education was belief in the almost magical efficacy of the\nsymbols of language (including number) to produce mental training; at\npresent, belief in the efficacy of objects just as objects, blocks the\nway. As frequently happens, the better is an enemy of the best.\n\n[Sidenote: Transfer of interest to intellectual matters]\n\n2. The interest in results, in the successful carrying on of an\nactivity, should be gradually transferred to study of objects--their\nproperties, consequences, structures, causes, and effects. The adult\nwhen at work in his life calling is rarely free to devote time or\nenergy--beyond the necessities of his immediate action--to the study of\nwhat he deals with. (_Ante_, p. 43.) The educative activities of\nchildhood should be so arranged that direct interest in the activity and\nits outcome create a demand for attention to matters that have a more\nand more _indirect and remote_ connection with the original activity.\nThe direct interest in carpentering or shop work should yield\norganically and gradually an interest in geometric and mechanical\nproblems. The interest in cooking should grow into an interest in\nchemical experimentation and in the physiology and hygiene of bodily\ngrowth. The making of pictures should pass to an interest in the\ntechnique of representation and the aesthetics of appreciation, and so\non. This development is what the term _go_ signifies in the maxim \"_go_\nfrom the concrete to the abstract\"; it represents the dynamic and truly\neducative factor of the process.\n\n[Sidenote: Development of delight in the activity of thinking]\n\n3. The outcome, the _abstract_ to which education is to proceed, is an\ninterest in intellectual matters for their own sake, a delight in\nthinking for the sake of thinking. It is an old story that acts and\nprocesses which at the outset are incidental to something else develop\nand maintain an absorbing value of their own. So it is with thinking and\nwith knowledge; at first incidental to results and adjustments beyond\nthemselves, they attract more and more attention to themselves till they\nbecome ends, not means. Children engage, unconstrainedly and\ncontinually, in reflective inspection and testing for the sake of what\nthey are interested in doing successfully. Habits of thinking thus\ngenerated may increase in volume and extent till they become of\nimportance on their own account.\n\n[Sidenote: Examples of the transition]\n\nThe three instances cited in Chapter Six represented an ascending cycle\nfrom the practical to the theoretical. Taking thought to keep a personal\nengagement is obviously of the concrete kind. Endeavoring to work out\nthe meaning of a certain part of a boat is an instance of an\nintermediate kind. The reason for the existence and position of the pole\nis a practical reason, so that to the architect the problem was purely\nconcrete--the maintenance of a certain system of action. But for the\npassenger on the boat, the problem was theoretical, more or less\nspeculative. It made no difference to his reaching his destination\nwhether he worked out the meaning of the pole. The third case, that of\nthe appearance and movement of the bubbles, illustrates a strictly\ntheoretical or abstract case. No overcoming of physical obstacles, no\nadjustment of external means to ends, is at stake. Curiosity,\nintellectual curiosity, is challenged by a seemingly anomalous\noccurrence; and thinking tries simply to account for an apparent\nexception in terms of recognized principles.\n\n[Sidenote: Theoretical knowledge never the whole end]\n\n(_i_) Abstract thinking, it should be noted, represents _an_ end, not\n_the_ end. The power of sustained thinking on matters remote from direct\nuse is an outgrowth of practical and immediate modes of thought, but not\na substitute for them. The educational end is not the destruction of\npower to think so as to surmount obstacles and adjust means and ends; it\nis not its replacement by abstract reflection. Nor is theoretical\nthinking a higher type of thinking than practical. A person who has at\ncommand both types of thinking is of a higher order than he who\npossesses only one. Methods that in developing abstract intellectual\nabilities weaken habits of practical or concrete thinking, fall as much\nshort of the educational ideal as do the methods that in cultivating\nability to plan, to invent, to arrange, to forecast, fail to secure some\ndelight in thinking irrespective of practical consequences.\n\n[Sidenote: Nor that most congenial to the majority of pupils]\n\n(_ii_) Educators should also note the very great individual differences\nthat exist; they should not try to force one pattern and model upon all.\nIn many (probably the majority) the executive tendency, the habit of\nmind that thinks for purposes of conduct and achievement, not for the\nsake of knowing, remains dominant to the end. Engineers, lawyers,\ndoctors, merchants, are much more numerous in adult life than scholars,\nscientists, and philosophers. While education should strive to make men\nwho, however prominent their professional interests and aims, partake of\nthe spirit of the scholar, philosopher, and scientist, no good reason\nappears why education should esteem the one mental habit inherently\nsuperior to the other, and deliberately try to transform the type from\npractical to theoretical. Have not our schools (as already suggested, p.\n49) been one-sidedly devoted to the more abstract type of thinking, thus\ndoing injustice to the majority of pupils? Has not the idea of a\n\"liberal\" and \"humane\" education tended too often in practice to the\nproduction of technical, because overspecialized, thinkers?\n\n[Sidenote: Aim of education is a working balance]\n\nThe aim of education should be to secure a balanced interaction of the\ntwo types of mental attitude, having sufficient regard to the\ndisposition of the individual not to hamper and cripple whatever powers\nare naturally strong in him. The narrowness of individuals of strong\nconcrete bent needs to be liberalized. Every opportunity that occurs\nwithin their practical activities for developing curiosity and\nsusceptibility to intellectual problems should be seized. Violence is\nnot done to natural disposition, but the latter is broadened. As regards\nthe smaller number of those who have a taste for abstract, purely\nintellectual topics, pains should be taken to multiply opportunities and\ndemands for the application of ideas; for translating symbolic truths\ninto terms of social life and its ends. Every human being has both\ncapabilities, and every individual will be more effective and happier if\nboth powers are developed in easy and close interaction with each\nother.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER ELEVEN\n\nEMPIRICAL AND SCIENTIFIC THINKING\n\n\nSec. 1. _Empirical Thinking_\n\n[Sidenote: Empirical thinking depends on past habits]\n\nApart from the development of scientific method, inferences depend upon\nhabits that have been built up under the influence of a number of\nparticular experiences not themselves arranged for logical purposes. A\nsays, \"It will probably rain to-morrow.\" B asks, \"Why do you think so?\"\nand A replies, \"Because the sky was lowering at sunset.\" When B asks,\n\"What has that to do with it?\" A responds, \"I do not know, but it\ngenerally does rain after such a sunset.\" He does not perceive any\n_connection_ between the appearance of the sky and coming rain; he is\nnot aware of any continuity in the facts themselves--any law or\nprinciple, as we usually say. He simply, from frequently recurring\nconjunctions of the events, has associated them so that when he sees one\nhe thinks of the other. One _suggests_ the other, or is _associated_\nwith it. A man may believe it will rain to-morrow because he has\nconsulted the barometer; but if he has no conception how the height of\nthe mercury column (or the position of an index moved by its rise and\nfall) is connected with variations of atmospheric pressure, and how\nthese in turn are connected with the amount of moisture in the air, his\nbelief in the likelihood of rain is purely empirical. When men lived in\nthe open and got their living by hunting, fishing, or pasturing flocks,\nthe detection of the signs and indications of weather changes was a\nmatter of great importance. A body of proverbs and maxims, forming an\nextensive section of traditionary folklore, was developed. But as long\nas there was no understanding _why_ or _how_ certain events were signs,\nas long as foresight and weather shrewdness rested simply upon repeated\nconjunction among facts, beliefs about the weather were thoroughly\nempirical.\n\n[Sidenote: It is fairly adequate in some matters,]\n\nIn similar fashion learned men in the Orient learned to predict, with\nconsiderable accuracy, the recurrent positions of the planets, the sun\nand the moon, and to foretell the time of eclipses, without\nunderstanding in any degree the laws of the movements of heavenly\nbodies--that is, without having a notion of the continuities existing\namong the facts themselves. They had learned from repeated observations\nthat things happened in about such and such a fashion. Till a\ncomparatively recent time, the truths of medicine were mainly in the\nsame condition. Experience had shown that \"upon the whole,\" \"as a rule,\"\n\"generally or usually speaking,\" certain results followed certain\nremedies, when symptoms were given. Our beliefs about human nature in\nindividuals (psychology) and in masses (sociology) are still very\nlargely of a purely empirical sort. Even the science of geometry, now\nfrequently reckoned a typical rational science, began, among the\nEgyptians, as an accumulation of recorded observations about methods of\napproximate mensuration of land surfaces; and only gradually assumed,\namong the Greeks, scientific form.\n\nThe _disadvantages_ of purely empirical thinking are obvious.\n\n[Sidenote: but is very apt to lead to false beliefs,]\n\n1. While many empirical conclusions are, roughly speaking, correct;\nwhile they are exact enough to be of great help in practical life; while\nthe presages of a weatherwise sailor or hunter may be more accurate,\nwithin a certain restricted range, than those of a scientist who relies\nwholly upon scientific observations and tests; while, indeed, empirical\nobservations and records furnish the raw or crude material of scientific\nknowledge, yet the empirical method affords no way of discriminating\nbetween right and wrong conclusions. Hence it is responsible for a\nmultitude of _false_ beliefs. The technical designation for one of the\ncommonest fallacies is _post hoc, ergo propter hoc_; the belief that\nbecause one thing comes _after_ another, it comes _because_ of the\nother. Now this fallacy of method is the animating principle of\nempirical conclusions, even when correct--the correctness being almost\nas much a matter of good luck as of method. That potatoes should be\nplanted only during the crescent moon, that near the sea people are born\nat high tide and die at low tide, that a comet is an omen of danger,\nthat bad luck follows the cracking of a mirror, that a patent medicine\ncures a disease--these and a thousand like notions are asseverated on\nthe basis of empirical coincidence and conjunction. Moreover, habits of\nexpectation and belief are formed otherwise than by a number of repeated\nsimilar cases.\n\n[Sidenote: and does not enable us to cope with the novel,]\n\n2. The more numerous the experienced instances and the closer the watch\nkept upon them, the greater is the trustworthiness of constant\nconjunction as evidence of connection among the things themselves. Many\nof our most important beliefs still have only this sort of warrant. No\none can yet tell, with certainty, the necessary cause of old age or of\ndeath--which are empirically the most certain of all expectations. But\neven the most reliable beliefs of this type fail when they confront the\n_novel_. Since they rest upon past uniformities, they are useless when\nfurther experience departs in any considerable measure from ancient\nincident and wonted precedent. Empirical inference follows the grooves\nand ruts that custom wears, and has no track to follow when the groove\ndisappears. So important is this aspect of the matter that Clifford\nfound the difference between ordinary skill and scientific thought right\nhere. \"Skill enables a man to deal with the same circumstances that he\nhas met before, scientific thought enables him to deal with different\ncircumstances that he has never met before.\" And he goes so far as to\ndefine scientific thinking as \"the application of old experience to new\ncircumstances.\"\n\n[Sidenote: and leads to laziness and presumption,]\n\n3. We have not yet made the acquaintance of the most harmful feature of\nthe empirical method. Mental inertia, laziness, unjustifiable\nconservatism, are its probable accompaniments. Its general effect upon\nmental attitude is more serious than even the specific wrong conclusions\nin which it has landed. Wherever the chief dependence in forming\ninferences is upon the conjunctions observed in past experience,\nfailures to agree with the usual order are slurred over, cases of\nsuccessful confirmation are exaggerated. Since the mind naturally\ndemands some principle of continuity, some connecting link between\nseparate facts and causes, forces are arbitrarily invented for that\npurpose. Fantastic and mythological explanations are resorted to in\norder to supply missing links. The pump brings water because nature\nabhors a vacuum; opium makes men sleep because it has a dormitive\npotency; we recollect a past event because we have a faculty of memory.\nIn the history of the progress of human knowledge, out and out myths\naccompany the first stage of empiricism; while \"hidden essences\" and\n\"occult forces\" mark its second stage. By their very nature, these\n\"causes\" escape observation, so that their explanatory value can be\nneither confirmed nor refuted by further observation or experience.\nHence belief in them becomes purely traditionary. They give rise to\ndoctrines which, inculcated and handed down, become dogmas; subsequent\ninquiry and reflection are actually stifled. (_Ante_, p. 23.)\n\n[Sidenote: and to dogmatism]\n\nCertain men or classes of men come to be the accepted guardians and\ntransmitters--instructors--of established doctrines. To question the\nbeliefs is to question their authority; to accept the beliefs is\nevidence of loyalty to the powers that be, a proof of good citizenship.\nPassivity, docility, acquiescence, come to be primal intellectual\nvirtues. Facts and events presenting novelty and variety are slighted,\nor are sheared down till they fit into the Procrustean bed of habitual\nbelief. Inquiry and doubt are silenced by citation of ancient laws or a\nmultitude of miscellaneous and unsifted cases. This attitude of mind\ngenerates dislike of change, and the resulting aversion to novelty is\nfatal to progress. What will not fit into the established canons is\noutlawed; men who make new discoveries are objects of suspicion and even\nof persecution. Beliefs that perhaps originally were the products of\nfairly extensive and careful observation are stereotyped into fixed\ntraditions and semi-sacred dogmas accepted simply upon authority, and\nare mixed with fantastic conceptions that happen to have won the\nacceptance of authorities.\n\n\nSec. 2. _Scientific Method_\n\n[Sidenote: Scientific thinking analyzes the present case]\n\nIn contrast with the empirical method stands the scientific. Scientific\nmethod replaces the repeated conjunction or coincidence of separate\nfacts by discovery of a single comprehensive fact, effecting this\nreplacement by _breaking up the coarse or gross facts of observation\ninto a number of minuter processes not directly accessible to\nperception_.\n\n[Sidenote: Illustration from _suction_ of empirical method,]\n\nIf a layman were asked why water rises from the cistern when an ordinary\npump is worked, he would doubtless answer, \"By suction.\" Suction is\nregarded as a force like heat or pressure. If such a person is\nconfronted by the fact that water rises with a suction pump only about\nthirty-three feet, he easily disposes of the difficulty on the ground\nthat all forces vary in their intensities and finally reach a limit at\nwhich they cease to operate. The variation with elevation above the sea\nlevel of the height to which water can be pumped is either unnoticed,\nor, if noted, is dismissed as one of the curious anomalies in which\nnature abounds.\n\n[Sidenote: of scientific method]\n\n[Sidenote: Relies on differences,]\n\nNow the scientist advances by assuming that what seems to observation to\nbe a single total fact is in truth complex. He attempts, therefore, to\nbreak up the single fact of water-rising-in-the-pipe into a number of\nlesser facts. His method of proceeding is by _varying conditions one by\none_ so far as possible, and noting just what happens when a given\ncondition is eliminated. There are two methods for varying\nconditions.[24] The first is an extension of the empirical method of\nobservation. It consists in comparing very carefully the results of a\ngreat number of observations which have occurred under accidentally\n_different_ conditions. The difference in the rise of the water at\ndifferent heights above the sea level, and its total cessation when the\ndistance to be lifted is, even at sea level, more than thirty-three\nfeet, are emphasized, instead of being slurred over. The purpose is to\nfind out what _special conditions_ are present when the effect occurs\nand absent when it fails to occur. These special conditions are then\nsubstituted for the gross fact, or regarded as its principle--the key to\nunderstanding it.\n\n    [24] The next two paragraphs repeat, for purposes of the present\n    discussion, what we have already noted in a different context. See\n    p. 88 and p. 99.\n\n[Sidenote: and creates differences]\n\nThe method of analysis by comparing cases is, however, badly\nhandicapped; it can do nothing until it is presented with a certain\nnumber of diversified cases. And even when different cases are at hand,\nit will be questionable whether they vary in just these respects in\nwhich it is important that they should vary in order to throw light upon\nthe question at issue. The method is passive and dependent upon external\naccidents. Hence the superiority of the active or experimental method.\nEven a small number of observations may suggest an explanation--a\nhypothesis or theory. Working upon this suggestion, the scientist may\nthen _intentionally_ vary conditions and note what happens. If the\nempirical observations have suggested to him the possibility of a\nconnection between air pressure on the water and the rising of the water\nin the tube where air pressure is absent, he deliberately empties the\nair out of the vessel in which the water is contained and notes that\nsuction no longer works; or he intentionally increases atmospheric\npressure on the water and notes the result. He institutes experiments to\ncalculate the weight of air at the sea level and at various levels\nabove, and compares the results of reasoning based upon the pressure of\nair of these various weights upon a certain volume of water with the\nresults actually obtained by observation. _Observations formed by\nvariation of conditions on the basis of some idea or theory constitute\nexperiment._ Experiment is the chief resource in scientific reasoning\nbecause it facilitates the picking out of significant elements in a\ngross, vague whole.\n\n[Sidenote: Analysis and synthesis again]\n\nExperimental thinking, or scientific reasoning, is thus a conjoint\nprocess of _analysis and synthesis_, or, in less technical language, of\ndiscrimination and assimilation or identification. The gross fact of\nwater rising when the suction valve is worked is resolved or\ndiscriminated into a number of independent variables, some of which had\nnever before been observed or even thought of in connection with the\nfact. One of these facts, the weight of the atmosphere, is then\nselectively seized upon as the key to the entire phenomenon. This\ndisentangling constitutes _analysis_. But atmosphere and its pressure or\nweight is a fact not confined to this single instance. It is a fact\nfamiliar or at least discoverable as operative in a great number of\nother events. In fixing upon this imperceptible and minute fact as the\nessence or key to the elevation of water by the pump, the pump-fact has\nthus been assimilated to a whole group of ordinary facts from which it\nwas previously isolated. This assimilation constitutes _synthesis_.\nMoreover, the fact of atmospheric pressure is itself a case of one of\nthe commonest of all facts--weight or gravitational force. Conclusions\nthat apply to the common fact of weight are thus transferable to the\nconsideration and interpretation of the _relatively_ rare and\nexceptional case of the suction of water. The suction pump is seen to be\na case of the same kind or sort as the siphon, the barometer, the\nrising of the balloon, and a multitude of other things with which at\nfirst sight it has no connection at all. This is another instance of the\nsynthetic or assimilative phase of scientific thinking.\n\nIf we revert to the advantages of scientific over empirical thinking, we\nfind that we now have the clue to them.\n\n[Sidenote: Lessened liability to error]\n\n(_a_) The increased security, the added factor of certainty or proof, is\ndue to the substitution of the _detailed and specific fact_ of\natmospheric pressure for the gross and total and relatively\nmiscellaneous fact of suction. The latter is complex, and its complexity\nis due to many unknown and unspecified factors; hence, any statement\nabout it is more or less random, and likely to be defeated by any\nunforeseen variation of circumstances. _Comparatively_, at least, the\nminute and detailed fact of air pressure is a measurable and definite\nfact--one that can be picked out and managed with assurance.\n\n[Sidenote: Ability to manage the new]\n\n(_b_) As analysis accounts for the added certainty, so synthesis\naccounts for ability to cope with the novel and variable. Weight is a\nmuch commoner fact than atmospheric weight, and this in turn is a much\ncommoner fact than the workings of the suction pump. To be able to\nsubstitute the common and frequent fact for that which is relatively\nrare and peculiar is to reduce the seemingly novel and exceptional to\ncases of a general and familiar principle, and thus to bring them under\ncontrol for interpretation and prediction.\n\nAs Professor James says: \"Think of heat as motion and whatever is true\nof motion will be true of heat; but we have a hundred experiences of\nmotion for every one of heat. Think of rays passing through this lens as\ncases of bending toward the perpendicular, and you substitute for the\ncomparatively unfamiliar lens the very familiar notion of a particular\nchange in direction of a line, of which notion every day brings us\ncountless examples.\"[25]\n\n    [25] _Psychology_, vol. II. p. 342.\n\n[Sidenote: Interest in the future or in progress]\n\n(_c_) The change of attitude from conservative reliance upon the past,\nupon routine and custom, to faith in progress through the intelligent\nregulation of existing conditions, is, of course, the reflex of the\nscientific method of experimentation. The empirical method inevitably\nmagnifies the influences of the past; the experimental method throws\ninto relief the possibilities of the future. The empirical method says,\n\"_Wait_ till there is a sufficient number of cases;\" the experimental\nmethod says, \"_Produce_ the cases.\" The former depends upon nature's\naccidentally happening to present us with certain conjunctions of\ncircumstances; the latter deliberately and intentionally endeavors to\nbring about the conjunction. By this method the notion of progress\nsecures scientific warrant.\n\n[Sidenote: Physical _versus_ logical force]\n\nOrdinary experience is controlled largely by the direct strength and\nintensity of various occurrences. What is bright, sudden, loud, secures\nnotice and is given a conspicuous rating. What is dim, feeble, and\ncontinuous gets ignored, or is regarded as of slight importance.\nCustomary experience tends to the control of thinking by considerations\nof _direct and immediate strength_ rather than by those of importance in\nthe long run. Animals without the power of forecast and planning must,\nupon the whole, respond to the stimuli that are most urgent at the\nmoment, or cease to exist. These stimuli lose nothing of their direct\nurgency and clamorous insistency when the thinking power develops; and\nyet thinking demands the subordination of the immediate stimulus to the\nremote and distant. The feeble and the minute may be of much greater\nimportance than the glaring and the big. The latter may be signs of a\nforce that is already exhausting itself; the former may indicate the\nbeginnings of a process in which the whole fortune of the individual is\ninvolved. The prime necessity for scientific thought is that the thinker\nbe freed from the tyranny of sense stimuli and habit, and this\nemancipation is also the necessary condition of progress.\n\n[Sidenote: Illustration from moving water]\n\nConsider the following quotation: \"When it first occurred to a\nreflecting mind that moving water had a property identical with human or\nbrute force, namely, the property of setting other masses in motion,\novercoming inertia and resistance,--when the sight of the stream\nsuggested through this point of likeness the power of the animal,--a new\naddition was made to the class of prime movers, and when circumstances\npermitted, this power could become a substitute for the others. It may\nseem to the modern understanding, familiar with water wheels and\ndrifting rafts, that the similarity here was an extremely obvious one.\nBut if we put ourselves back into an early state of mind, when running\nwater affected the mind _by its brilliancy, its roar and irregular\ndevastation_, we may easily suppose that to identify this with animal\nmuscular energy was by no means an obvious effort.\"[26]\n\n    [26] Bain, _The Senses and Intellect_, third American ed., 1879, p.\n    492 (italics not in original).\n\n[Sidenote: Value of abstraction]\n\nIf we add to these obvious sensory features the various social customs\nand expectations which fix the attitude of the individual, the evil of\nthe subjection of free and fertile suggestion to empirical\nconsiderations becomes clear. A certain power of _abstraction_, of\ndeliberate turning away from the habitual responses to a situation, was\nrequired before men could be emancipated to follow up suggestions that\nin the end are fruitful.\n\n[Sidenote: Experience as inclusive of thought]\n\nIn short, the term _experience_ may be interpreted either with reference\nto the _empirical_ or the _experimental_ attitude of mind. Experience is\nnot a rigid and closed thing; it is vital, and hence growing. When\ndominated by the past, by custom and routine, it is often opposed to the\nreasonable, the thoughtful. But experience also includes the reflection\nthat sets us free from the limiting influence of sense, appetite, and\ntradition. Experience may welcome and assimilate all that the most exact\nand penetrating thought discovers. Indeed, the business of education\nmight be defined as just such an emancipation and enlargement of\nexperience. Education takes the individual while he is relatively\nplastic, before he has become so indurated by isolated experiences as to\nbe rendered hopelessly empirical in his habit of mind. The attitude of\nchildhood is naive, wondering, experimental; the world of man and nature\nis new. Right methods of education preserve and perfect this attitude,\nand thereby short-circuit for the individual the slow progress of the\nrace, eliminating the waste that comes from inert routine.\n\n\n\n\nPART THREE: THE TRAINING OF THOUGHT\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER TWELVE\n\nACTIVITY AND THE TRAINING OF THOUGHT\n\n\nIn this chapter we shall gather together and amplify considerations that\nhave already been advanced, in various passages of the preceding pages,\nconcerning the relation of _action to thought_. We shall follow, though\nnot with exactness, the order of development in the unfolding human\nbeing.\n\n\nSec. 1. _The Early Stage of Activity_\n\n[Sidenote: 1. The baby's problem determines his thinking]\n\nThe sight of a baby often calls out the question: \"What do you suppose\nhe is thinking about?\" By the nature of the case, the question is\nunanswerable in detail; but, also by the nature of the case, we may be\nsure about a baby's chief interest. His primary problem is mastery of\nhis body as a tool of securing comfortable and effective adjustments to\nhis surroundings, physical and social. The child has to learn to do\nalmost everything: to see, to hear, to reach, to handle, to balance the\nbody, to creep, to walk, and so on. Even if it be true that human beings\nhave even more instinctive reactions than lower animals, it is also true\nthat instinctive tendencies are much less perfect in men, and that most\nof them are of little use till they are intelligently combined and\ndirected. A little chick just out of the shell will after a few trials\npeck at and grasp grains of food with its beak as well as at any later\ntime. This involves a complicated cooerdination of the eye and the head.\nAn infant does not even begin to reach definitely for things that the\neye sees till he is several months old, and even then several weeks'\npractice is required before he learns the adjustment so as neither to\noverreach nor to underreach. It may not be literally true that the child\nwill grasp for the moon, but it is true that he needs much practice\nbefore he can tell whether an object is within reach or not. The arm is\nthrust out instinctively in response to a stimulus from the eye, and\nthis tendency is the origin of the ability to reach and grasp exactly\nand quickly; but nevertheless final mastery requires observing and\nselecting the successful movements, and arranging them in view of an\nend. _These operations of conscious selection and arrangement constitute\nthinking_, though of a rudimentary type.\n\n[Sidenote: Mastery of the body is an intellectual problem]\n\nSince mastery of the bodily organs is necessary for all later\ndevelopments, such problems are both interesting and important, and\nsolving them supplies a very genuine training of thinking power. The joy\nthe child shows in learning to use his limbs, to translate what he sees\ninto what he handles, to connect sounds with sights, sights with taste\nand touch, and the rapidity with which intelligence grows in the first\nyear and a half of life (the time during which the more fundamental\nproblems of the use of the organism are mastered), are sufficient\nevidence that the development of physical control is not a physical but\nan intellectual achievement.\n\n[Sidenote: 2. The problem of social adjustment and intercourse]\n\nAlthough in the early months the child is mainly occupied in learning\nto use his body to accommodate himself to physical conditions in a\ncomfortable way and to use things skillfully and effectively, yet social\nadjustments are very important. In connection with parents, nurse,\nbrother, and sister, the child learns the signs of satisfaction of\nhunger, of removal of discomfort, of the approach of agreeable light,\ncolor, sound, and so on. His contact with physical things is regulated\nby persons, and he soon distinguishes persons as the most important and\ninteresting of all the objects with which he has to do. Speech, the\naccurate adaptation of sounds heard to the movements of tongue and lips,\nis, however, the great instrument of social adaptation; and with the\ndevelopment of speech (usually in the second year) adaptation of the\nbaby's activities to and with those of other persons gives the keynote\nof mental life. His range of possible activities is indefinitely widened\nas he watches what other persons do, and as he tries to understand and\nto do what they encourage him to attempt. The outline pattern of mental\nlife is thus set in the first four or five years. Years, centuries,\ngenerations of invention and planning, may have gone to the development\nof the performances and occupations of the adults surrounding the child.\nYet for him their activities are direct stimuli; they are part of his\nnatural environment; they are carried on in physical terms that appeal\nto his eye, ear, and touch. He cannot, of course, appropriate their\nmeaning directly through his senses; but they furnish stimuli to which\nhe responds, so that his attention is focussed upon a higher order of\nmaterials and of problems. Were it not for this process by which the\nachievements of one generation form the stimuli that direct the\nactivities of the next, the story of civilization would be writ in\nwater, and each generation would have laboriously to make for itself, if\nit could, its way out of savagery.\n\n[Sidenote: Social adjustment results in imitation but is not caused by\nit]\n\nImitation is one (though only one, see p. 47) of the means by which the\nactivities of adults supply stimuli which are so interesting, so varied,\nso complex, and so novel, as to occasion a rapid progress of thought.\nMere imitation, however, would not give rise to thinking; if we could\nlearn like parrots by simply copying the outward acts of others, we\nshould never have to think; nor should we know, after we had mastered\nthe copied act, what was the meaning of the thing we had done. Educators\n(and psychologists) have often assumed that acts which reproduce the\nbehavior of others are acquired merely by imitation. But a child rarely\nlearns by conscious imitation; and to say that his imitation is\nunconscious is to say that it is not from his standpoint imitation at\nall. The word, the gesture, the act, the occupation of another, falls in\nline with _some impulse already active_ and suggests some satisfactory\nmode of expression, some end in which it may find fulfillment. Having\nthis end of his own, the child then notes other persons, as he notes\nnatural events, to get further suggestions as to means of its\nrealization. He selects some of the means he observes, tries them on,\nfinds them successful or unsuccessful, is confirmed or weakened in his\nbelief in their value, and so continues selecting, arranging, adapting,\ntesting, till he can accomplish what he wishes. The onlooker may then\nobserve the resemblance of this act to some act of an adult, and\nconclude that it was acquired by imitation, while as a matter of fact it\nwas acquired by attention, observation, selection, experimentation, and\nconfirmation by results. Only because this method is employed is there\nintellectual discipline and an educative result. The presence of adult\nactivities plays an enormous role in the intellectual growth of the\nchild because they add to the natural stimuli of the world new stimuli\nwhich are more exactly adapted to the needs of a human being, which are\nricher, better organized, more complex in range, permitting more\nflexible adaptations, and calling out novel reactions. But in utilizing\nthese stimuli the child follows the same methods that he uses when he is\nforced to think in order to master his body.\n\n\nSec. 2. _Play, Work, and Allied Forms of Activity_\n\n[Sidenote: Play indicates the domination of activity by meanings or\nideas]\n\n[Sidenote: Organization of ideas involved in play]\n\nWhen things become signs, when they gain a representative capacity as\nstanding for other things, play is transformed from mere physical\nexuberance into an activity involving a mental factor. A little girl who\nhad broken her doll was seen to perform with the leg of the doll all the\noperations of washing, putting to bed, and fondling, that she had been\naccustomed to perform with the entire doll. The part stood for the\nwhole; she reacted not to the stimulus sensibly present, but to the\nmeaning suggested by the sense object. So children use a stone for a\ntable, leaves for plates, acorns for cups. So they use their dolls,\ntheir trains, their blocks, their other toys. In manipulating them, they\nare living not with the physical things, but in the large world of\nmeanings, natural and social, evoked by these things. So when children\nplay horse, play store, play house or making calls, they are\nsubordinating the physically present to the ideally signified. In this\nway, a world of meanings, a store of concepts (so fundamental to all\nintellectual achievement), is defined and built up. Moreover, not only\ndo meanings thus become familiar acquaintances, but they are organized,\narranged in groups, made to cohere in connected ways. A play and a story\nblend insensibly into each other. The most fanciful plays of children\nrarely lose all touch with the mutual fitness and pertinency of various\nmeanings to one another; the \"freest\" plays observe some principles of\ncoherence and unification. They have a beginning, middle, and end. In\ngames, rules of order run through various minor acts and bind them into\na connected whole. The rhythm, the competition, and cooeperation involved\nin most plays and games also introduce organization. There is, then,\nnothing mysterious or mystical in the discovery made by Plato and remade\nby Froebel that play is the chief, almost the only, mode of education\nfor the child in the years of later infancy.\n\n[Sidenote: The playful attitude]\n\n_Playfulness_ is a more important consideration than play. The former is\nan attitude of mind; the latter is a passing outward manifestation of\nthis attitude. When things are treated simply as vehicles of suggestion,\nwhat is suggested overrides the thing. Hence the playful attitude is one\nof freedom. The person is not bound to the physical traits of things,\nnor does he care whether a thing really means (as we say) what he takes\nit to represent. When the child plays horse with a broom and cars with\nchairs, the fact that the broom does not really represent a horse, or a\nchair a locomotive, is of no account. In order, then, that playfulness\nmay not terminate in arbitrary fancifulness and in building up an\nimaginary world alongside the world of actual things, it is necessary\nthat the play attitude should gradually pass into a work attitude.\n\n[Sidenote: The work attitude is interested in means and ends]\n\nWhat is work--work not as mere external performance, but as attitude of\nmind? It signifies that the person is not content longer to accept and\nto act upon the meanings that things suggest, but demands congruity of\nmeaning with the things themselves. In the natural course of growth,\nchildren come to find irresponsible make-believe plays inadequate. A\nfiction is too easy a way out to afford content. There is not enough\nstimulus to call forth satisfactory mental response. When this point is\nreached, the ideas that things suggest must be applied to the things\nwith some regard to fitness. A small cart, resembling a \"real\" cart,\nwith \"real\" wheels, tongue, and body, meets the mental demand better\nthan merely making believe that anything which comes to hand is a cart.\nOccasionally to take part in setting a \"real\" table with \"real\" dishes\nbrings more reward than forever to make believe a flat stone is a table\nand that leaves are dishes. The interest may still center in the\nmeanings, the things may be of importance only as amplifying a certain\nmeaning. So far the attitude is one of play. But the meaning is now of\nsuch a character that it must find appropriate embodiment in actual\nthings.\n\nThe dictionary does not permit us to call such activities work.\nNevertheless, they represent a genuine passage of play into work. For\nwork (as a mental attitude, not as mere external performance) _means\ninterest in the adequate embodiment of a meaning_ (a suggestion,\npurpose, aim) _in objective form through the use of appropriate\nmaterials and appliances_. Such an attitude takes advantage of the\nmeanings aroused and built up in free play, but _controls their\ndevelopment by seeing to it that they are applied to things in ways\nconsistent with the observable structure of the things themselves_.\n\n[Sidenote: and in processes on account of their results]\n\nThe point of this distinction between play and work may be cleared up by\ncomparing it with a more usual way of stating the difference. In play\nactivity, it is said, the interest is in the activity for its own sake;\nin work, it is in the product or result in which the activity\nterminates. Hence the former is purely free, while the latter is tied\ndown by the end to be achieved. When the difference is stated in this\nsharp fashion, there is almost always introduced a false, unnatural\nseparation between process and product, between activity and its\nachieved outcome. The true distinction is not between an interest in\nactivity for its own sake and interest in the external result of that\nactivity, but between an interest in an activity just as it flows on\nfrom moment to moment, and an interest in an activity as tending to a\nculmination, to an outcome, and therefore possessing a thread of\ncontinuity binding together its successive stages. Both may equally\nexemplify interest in an activity \"for its own sake\"; but in one case\nthe activity in which the interest resides is more or less casual,\nfollowing the accident of circumstance and whim, or of dictation; in the\nother, the activity is enriched by the sense that it leads somewhere,\nthat it amounts to something.\n\n[Sidenote: Consequences of the sharp separation of play and work]\n\nWere it not that the false theory of the relation of the play and the\nwork attitudes has been connected with unfortunate modes of school\npractice, insistence upon a truer view might seem an unnecessary\nrefinement. But the sharp break that unfortunately prevails between the\nkindergarten and the grades is evidence that the theoretical distinction\nhas practical implications. Under the title of play, the former is\nrendered unduly symbolic, fanciful, sentimental, and arbitrary; while\nunder the antithetical caption of work the latter contains many _tasks\nexternally assigned_. The former has no end and the latter an end so\nremote that only the educator, not the child, is aware that it is an\nend.\n\nThere comes a time when children must extend and make more exact their\nacquaintance with existing things; must conceive ends and consequences\nwith sufficient definiteness to guide their actions by them, and must\nacquire some technical skill in selecting and arranging means to realize\nthese ends. Unless these factors are gradually introduced in the earlier\nplay period, they must be introduced later abruptly and arbitrarily, to\nthe manifest disadvantage of both the earlier and the later stages.\n\n[Sidenote: False notions of imagination and utility]\n\nThe sharp opposition of play and work is usually associated with false\nnotions of utility and imagination. Activity that is directed upon\nmatters of home and neighborhood interest is depreciated as merely\nutilitarian. To let the child wash dishes, set the table, engage in\ncooking, cut and sew dolls' clothes, make boxes that will hold \"real\nthings,\" and construct his own playthings by using hammer and nails,\nexcludes, so it is said, the aesthetic and appreciative factor,\neliminates imagination, and subjects the child's development to material\nand practical concerns; while (so it is said) to reproduce symbolically\nthe domestic relationships of birds and other animals, of human father\nand mother and child, of workman and tradesman, of knight, soldier, and\nmagistrate, secures a liberal exercise of mind, of great moral as well\nas intellectual value. It has been even stated that it is over-physical\nand utilitarian if a child plants seeds and takes care of growing plants\nin the kindergarten; while reproducing dramatically operations of\nplanting, cultivating, reaping, and so on, either with no physical\nmaterials or with symbolic representatives, is highly educative to the\nimagination and to spiritual appreciation. Toy dolls, trains of cars,\nboats, and engines are rigidly excluded, and the employ of cubes, balls,\nand other symbols for representing these social activities is\nrecommended on the same ground. The more unfitted the physical object\nfor its imagined purpose, such as a cube for a boat, the greater is the\nsupposed appeal to the imagination.\n\n[Sidenote: Imagination a medium of realizing the absent and significant]\n\nThere are several fallacies in this way of thinking. (_a_) The healthy\nimagination deals not with the unreal, but with the mental realization\nof what is suggested. Its exercise is not a flight into the purely\nfanciful and ideal, but a method of expanding and filling in what is\nreal. To the child the homely activities going on about him are not\nutilitarian devices for accomplishing physical ends; they exemplify a\nwonderful world the depths of which he has not sounded, a world full of\nthe mystery and promise that attend all the doings of the grown-ups whom\nhe admires. However prosaic this world may be to the adults who find its\nduties routine affairs, to the child it is fraught with social meaning.\nTo engage in it is to exercise the imagination in constructing an\nexperience of wider value than any the child has yet mastered.\n\n[Sidenote: Only the already experienced can be symbolized]\n\n(_b_) Educators sometimes think children are reacting to a great moral\nor spiritual truth when the children's reactions are largely physical\nand sensational. Children have great powers of dramatic simulation, and\ntheir physical bearing may seem (to adults prepossessed with a\nphilosophic theory) to indicate they have been impressed with some\nlesson of chivalry, devotion, or nobility, when the children themselves\nare occupied only with transitory physical excitations. To symbolize\ngreat truths far beyond the child's range of actual experience is an\nimpossibility, and to attempt it is to invite love of momentary\nstimulation.\n\n[Sidenote: Useful work is not necessarily labor]\n\n(_c_) Just as the opponents of play in education always conceive of play\nas mere amusement, so the opponents of direct and useful activities\nconfuse occupation with labor. The adult is acquainted with responsible\nlabor upon which serious financial results depend. Consequently he seeks\nrelief, relaxation, amusement. Unless children have prematurely worked\nfor hire, unless they have come under the blight of child labor, no such\ndivision exists for them. Whatever appeals to them at all, appeals\ndirectly on its own account. There is no contrast between doing things\nfor utility and for fun. Their life is more united and more wholesome.\nTo suppose that activities customarily performed by adults only under\nthe pressure of utility may not be done perfectly freely and joyously by\nchildren indicates a lack of imagination. Not the thing done but the\nquality of mind that goes into the doing settles what is utilitarian and\nwhat is unconstrained and educative.\n\n\nSec. 3. _Constructive Occupations_\n\n[Sidenote: The historic growth of sciences out of occupations]\n\nThe history of culture shows that mankind's scientific knowledge and\ntechnical abilities have developed, especially in all their earlier\nstages, out of the fundamental problems of life. Anatomy and physiology\ngrew out of the practical needs of keeping healthy and active; geometry\nand mechanics out of demands for measuring land, for building, and for\nmaking labor-saving machines; astronomy has been closely connected with\nnavigation, keeping record of the passage of time; botany grew out of\nthe requirements of medicine and of agronomy; chemistry has been\nassociated with dyeing, metallurgy, and other industrial pursuits. In\nturn, modern industry is almost wholly a matter of applied science; year\nby year the domain of routine and crude empiricism is narrowed by the\ntranslation of scientific discovery into industrial invention. The\ntrolley, the telephone, the electric light, the steam engine, with all\ntheir revolutionary consequences for social intercourse and control, are\nthe fruits of science.\n\n[Sidenote: The intellectual possibilities of school occupations]\n\nThese facts are full of educational significance. Most children are\npreeminently active in their tendencies. The schools have also taken\non--largely from utilitarian, rather than from strictly educative\nreasons--a large number of active pursuits commonly grouped under the\nhead of manual training, including also school gardens, excursions, and\nvarious graphic arts. Perhaps the most pressing problem of education at\nthe present moment is to organize and relate these subjects so that they\nwill become instruments for forming alert, persistent, and fruitful\nintellectual habits. That they take hold of the more primary and native\nequipment of children (appealing to their desire to do) is generally\nrecognized; that they afford great opportunity for training in\nself-reliant and efficient social service is gaining acknowledgment. But\nthey may also be used for presenting _typical problems to be solved by\npersonal reflection and experimentation, and by acquiring definite\nbodies of knowledge leading later to more specialized scientific\nknowledge_. There is indeed no magic by which mere physical activity or\ndeft manipulation will secure intellectual results. (See p. 43.) Manual\nsubjects may be taught by routine, by dictation, or by convention as\nreadily as bookish subjects. But intelligent consecutive work in\ngardening, cooking, or weaving, or in elementary wood and iron, may be\nplanned which will inevitably result in students not only amassing\ninformation of practical and scientific importance in botany, zooelogy,\nchemistry, physics, and other sciences, but (what is more significant)\nin their becoming versed in methods of experimental inquiry and proof.\n\n[Sidenote: Reorganization of the course of study]\n\nThat the elementary curriculum is overloaded is a common complaint. The\nonly alternative to a reactionary return to the educational traditions\nof the past lies in working out the intellectual possibilities resident\nin the various arts, crafts, and occupations, and reorganizing the\ncurriculum accordingly. Here, more than elsewhere, are found the means\nby which the blind and routine experience of the race may be transformed\ninto illuminated and emancipated experiment.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER THIRTEEN\n\nLANGUAGE AND THE TRAINING OF THOUGHT\n\n\nSec. 1. _Language as the Tool of Thinking_\n\n[Sidenote: Ambiguous position of language]\n\nSpeech has such a peculiarly intimate connection with thought as to\nrequire special discussion. Although the very word logic comes from\nlogos ([Greek: logos]), meaning indifferently both word or speech, and\nthought or reason, yet \"words, words, words\" denote intellectual\nbarrenness, a sham of thought. Although schooling has language as its\nchief instrument (and often as its chief matter) of study, educational\nreformers have for centuries brought their severest indictments against\nthe current use of language in the schools. The conviction that language\nis necessary to thinking (is even identical with it) is met by the\ncontention that language perverts and conceals thought.\n\n[Sidenote: Language a necessary tool of thinking,]\n\n[Sidenote: for it alone fixes meanings]\n\nThree typical views have been maintained regarding the relation of\nthought and language: first, that they are identical; second, that words\nare the garb or clothing of thought, necessary not for thought but only\nfor conveying it; and third (the view we shall here maintain) that while\nlanguage is not thought it is necessary for thinking as well as for its\ncommunication. When it is said, however, that thinking is impossible\nwithout language, we must recall that language includes much more than\noral and written speech. Gestures, pictures, monuments, visual images,\nfinger movements--anything consciously employed as a _sign_ is,\nlogically, language. To say that language is necessary for thinking is\nto say that signs are necessary. Thought deals not with bare things, but\nwith their _meanings_, their suggestions; and meanings, in order to be\napprehended, must be embodied in sensible and particular existences.\nWithout meaning, things are nothing but blind stimuli or chance sources\nof pleasure and pain; and since meanings are not themselves tangible\nthings, they must be anchored by attachment to some physical existence.\nExistences that are especially set aside to fixate and convey meanings\nare _signs_ or _symbols_. If a man moves toward another to throw him out\nof the room, his movement is not a sign. If, however, the man points to\nthe door with his hand, or utters the sound _go_, his movement is\nreduced to a vehicle of meaning: it is a sign or symbol. In the case of\nsigns we care nothing for what they are in themselves, but everything\nfor what they signify and represent. _Canis_, _hund_, _chien_, dog--it\nmakes no difference what the outward thing is, so long as the meaning is\npresented.\n\n[Sidenote: Limitations of natural symbols]\n\nNatural objects are signs of other things and events. Clouds stand for\nrain; a footprint represents game or an enemy; a projecting rock serves\nto indicate minerals below the surface. The limitations of natural signs\nare, however, great. (_i_) The physical or direct sense excitation tends\nto distract attention from what is meant or indicated.[27] Almost every\none will recall pointing out to a kitten or puppy some object of food,\nonly to have the animal devote himself to the hand pointing, not to the\nthing pointed at. (_ii_) Where natural signs alone exist, we are mainly\nat the mercy of external happenings; we have to wait until the natural\nevent presents itself in order to be warned or advised of the\npossibility of some other event. (_iii_) Natural signs, not being\noriginally intended to be signs, are cumbrous, bulky, inconvenient,\nunmanageable.\n\n    [27] Compare the quotation from Bain on p. 155.\n\n[Sidenote: Artificial signs overcome these restrictions.]\n\nIt is therefore indispensable for any high development of thought that\nthere should be also intentional signs. Speech supplies the requirement.\nGestures, sounds, written or printed forms, are strictly physical\nexistences, but their native value is intentionally subordinated to the\nvalue they acquire as representative of meanings. (_i_) The direct and\nsensible value of faint sounds and minute written or printed marks is\nvery slight. Accordingly, attention is not distracted from their\n_representative_ function. (_ii_) Their production is under our direct\ncontrol so that they may be produced when needed. When we can make the\nword _rain_, we do not have to wait for some physical forerunner of rain\nto call our thoughts in that direction. We cannot make the cloud; we can\nmake the sound, and as a token of meaning the sound serves the purpose\nas well as the cloud. (_iii_) Arbitrary linguistic signs are convenient\nand easy to manage. They are compact, portable, and delicate. As long as\nwe live we breathe; and modifications by the muscles of throat and mouth\nof the volume and quality of the air are simple, easy, and indefinitely\ncontrollable. Bodily postures and gestures of the hand and arm are also\nemployed as signs, but they are coarse and unmanageable compared with\nmodifications of breath to produce sounds. No wonder that oral speech\nhas been selected as the main stuff of intentional intellectual signs.\nSounds, while subtle, refined, and easily modifiable, are transitory.\nThis defect is met by the system of written and printed words,\nappealing to the eye. _Litera scripta manet._\n\nBearing in mind the intimate connection of meanings and signs (or\nlanguage), we may note in more detail what language does (1) for\nspecific meanings, and (2) for the organization of meanings.\n\nI. Individual Meanings. A verbal sign (_a_) selects, detaches, a meaning\nfrom what is otherwise a vague flux and blur (see p. 121); (_b_) it\nretains, registers, stores that meaning; and (_c_) applies it, when\nneeded, to the comprehension of other things. Combining these various\nfunctions in a mixture of metaphors, we may say that a linguistic sign\nis a fence, a label, and a vehicle--all in one.\n\n[Sidenote: A sign makes a meaning distinct]\n\n(_a_) Every one has experienced how learning an appropriate name for\nwhat was dim and vague cleared up and crystallized the whole matter.\nSome meaning seems almost within reach, but is elusive; it refuses to\ncondense into definite form; the attaching of a word somehow (just how,\nit is almost impossible to say) puts limits around the meaning, draws it\nout from the void, makes it stand out as an entity on its own account.\nWhen Emerson said that he would almost rather know the true name, the\npoet's name, for a thing, than to know the thing itself, he presumably\nhad this irradiating and illuminating function of language in mind. The\ndelight that children take in demanding and learning the names of\neverything about them indicates that meanings are becoming concrete\nindividuals to them, so that their commerce with things is passing from\nthe physical to the intellectual plane. It is hardly surprising that\nsavages attach a magic efficacy to words. To name anything is to give it\na title; to dignify and honor it by raising it from a mere physical\noccurrence to a meaning that is distinct and permanent. To know the\nnames of people and things and to be able to manipulate these names is,\nin savage lore, to be in possession of their dignity and worth, to\nmaster them.\n\n[Sidenote: A sign preserves a meaning]\n\n(_b_) Things come and go; or we come and go, and either way things\nescape our notice. Our direct sensible relation to things is very\nlimited. The suggestion of meanings by natural signs is limited to\noccasions of direct contact or vision. But a meaning fixed by a\nlinguistic sign is conserved for future use. Even if the thing is not\nthere to represent the meaning, the word may be produced so as to evoke\nthe meaning. Since intellectual life depends on possession of a store of\nmeanings, the importance of language as a tool of preserving meanings\ncannot be overstated. To be sure, the method of storage is not wholly\naseptic; words often corrupt and modify the meanings they are supposed\nto keep intact, but liability to infection is a price paid by every\nliving thing for the privilege of living.\n\n[Sidenote: A sign transfers a meaning]\n\n(_c_) When a meaning is detached and fixed by a sign, it is possible to\nuse that meaning in a new context and situation. This transfer and\nreapplication is the key to all judgment and inference. It would little\nprofit a man to recognize that a given particular cloud was the\npremonitor of a given particular rainstorm if his recognition ended\nthere, for he would then have to learn over and over again, since the\nnext cloud and the next rain are different events. No cumulative growth\nof intelligence would occur; experience might form habits of physical\nadaptation but it would not teach anything, for we should not be able to\nuse a prior experience consciously to anticipate and regulate a further\nexperience. To be able to use the past to judge and infer the new and\nunknown implies that, although the past thing has gone, its _meaning_\nabides in such a way as to be applicable in determining the character of\nthe new. Speech forms are our great carriers: the easy-running vehicles\nby which meanings are transported from experiences that no longer\nconcern us to those that are as yet dark and dubious.\n\n[Sidenote: Logical organization depends upon signs]\n\nII. Organization of Meanings. In emphasizing the importance of signs in\nrelation to specific meanings, we have overlooked another aspect,\nequally valuable. Signs not only mark off specific or individual\nmeanings, but they are also instruments of grouping meanings in relation\nto one another. Words are not only names or titles of single meanings;\nthey also form _sentences_ in which meanings are organized in relation\nto one another. When we say \"That book is a dictionary,\" or \"That blur\nof light in the heavens is Halley's comet,\" we express a _logical_\nconnection--an act of classifying and defining that goes beyond the\nphysical thing into the logical region of genera and species, things and\nattributes. Propositions, sentences, bear the same relation to judgments\nthat distinct words, built up mainly by analyzing propositions in their\nvarious types, bear to meanings or conceptions; and just as words imply\na sentence, so a sentence implies a larger whole of consecutive\ndiscourse into which it fits. As is often said, grammar expresses the\nunconscious logic of the popular mind. _The chief intellectual\nclassifications that constitute the working capital of thought have been\nbuilt up for us by our mother tongue._ Our very lack of explicit\nconsciousness in using language that we are employing the intellectual\nsystematizations of the race shows how thoroughly accustomed we have\nbecome to its logical distinctions and groupings.\n\n\nSec. 2. _The Abuse of Linguistic Methods in Education_\n\n[Sidenote: Teaching merely things, not educative]\n\nTaken literally, the maxim, \"Teach things, not words,\" or \"Teach things\nbefore words,\" would be the negation of education; it would reduce\nmental life to mere physical and sensible adjustments. Learning, in the\nproper sense, is not learning things, but the _meanings_ of things, and\nthis process involves the use of signs, or language in its generic\nsense. In like fashion, the warfare of some educational reformers\nagainst symbols, if pushed to extremes, involves the destruction of the\nintellectual life, since this lives, moves, and has its being in those\nprocesses of definition, abstraction, generalization, and classification\nthat are made possible by symbols alone. Nevertheless, these contentions\nof educational reformers have been needed. The liability of a thing to\nabuse is in proportion to the value of its right use.\n\n[Sidenote: But words separated from things are not true signs]\n\nSymbols are themselves, as pointed out above, particular, physical,\nsensible existences, like any other things. They are symbols only by\nvirtue of what they suggest and represent, _i.e._ meanings. (_i_) They\nstand for these meanings to any individual only when he has had\n_experience_ of some situation to which these meanings are actually\nrelevant. Words can detach and preserve a meaning only when the meaning\nhas been first involved in our own direct intercourse with things. To\nattempt to give a meaning through a word alone without any dealings with\na thing is to deprive the word of intelligible signification; against\nthis attempt, a tendency only too prevalent in education, reformers have\nprotested. Moreover, there is a tendency to assume that whenever there\nis a definite word or form of speech there is also a definite idea;\nwhile, as a matter of fact, adults and children alike are capable of\nusing even precise verbal formulae with only the vaguest and most\nconfused sense of what they mean. Genuine ignorance is more profitable\nbecause likely to be accompanied by humility, curiosity, and\nopen-mindedness; while ability to repeat catch-phrases, cant terms,\nfamiliar propositions, gives the conceit of learning and coats the mind\nwith a varnish waterproof to new ideas.\n\n[Sidenote: Language tends to arrest personal inquiry and reflection]\n\n(_ii_) Again, although new combinations of words without the\nintervention of physical things may supply new ideas, there are limits\nto this possibility. Lazy inertness causes individuals to accept ideas\nthat have currency about them without personal inquiry and testing. A\nman uses thought, perhaps, to find out what others believe, and then\nstops. The ideas of others as embodied in language become substitutes\nfor one's own ideas. The use of linguistic studies and methods to halt\nthe human mind on the level of the attainments of the past, to prevent\nnew inquiry and discovery, to put the authority of tradition in place of\nthe authority of natural facts and laws, to reduce the individual to a\nparasite living on the secondhand experience of others--these things\nhave been the source of the reformers' protest against the preeminence\nassigned to language in schools.\n\n[Sidenote: Words as mere stimuli]\n\nFinally, words that originally stood for ideas come, with repeated use,\nto be mere counters; they become physical things to be manipulated\naccording to certain rules, or reacted to by certain operations without\nconsciousness of their meaning. Mr. Stout (who has called such terms\n\"substitute signs\")remarks that \"algebraical and arithmetical signs are\nto a great extent used as mere substitute signs.... It is possible to\nuse signs of this kind whenever fixed and definite rules of operation\ncan be derived from the nature of the things symbolized, so as to be\napplied in manipulating the signs, without further reference to their\nsignification. A word is an instrument for thinking about the meaning\nwhich it expresses; a substitute sign is a means of _not_ thinking about\nthe meaning which it symbolizes.\" The principle applies, however, to\nordinary words, as well as to algebraic signs; they also enable us to\nuse meanings so as to get results without thinking. In many respects,\nsigns that are means of not thinking are of great advantage; standing\nfor the familiar, they release attention for meanings that, being novel,\nrequire conscious interpretation. Nevertheless, the premium put in the\nschoolroom upon attainment of technical facility, upon skill in\nproducing external results (_ante_, p. 51), often changes this advantage\ninto a positive detriment. In manipulating symbols so as to recite well,\nto get and give correct answers, to follow prescribed formulae of\nanalysis, the pupil's attitude becomes mechanical, rather than\nthoughtful; verbal memorizing is substituted for inquiry into the\nmeaning of things. This danger is perhaps the one uppermost in mind when\nverbal methods of education are attacked.\n\n\nSec. 3. _The Use of Language in its Educational Bearings_\n\nLanguage stands in a twofold relation to the work of education. On the\none hand, it is continually used in all studies as well as in all the\nsocial discipline of the school; on the other, it is a distinct object\nof study. We shall consider only the ordinary use of language, since its\neffects upon habits of thought are much deeper than those of conscious\nstudy.\n\n[Sidenote: Language not primarily intellectual in purpose]\n\nThe common statement that \"language is the expression of thought\"\nconveys only a half-truth, and a half-truth that is likely to result in\npositive error. Language does express thought, but not primarily, nor,\nat first, even consciously. The primary motive for language is to\ninfluence (through the expression of desire, emotion, and thought) the\nactivity of others; its secondary use is to enter into more intimate\nsociable relations with them; its employment as a conscious vehicle of\nthought and knowledge is a tertiary, and relatively late, formation. The\ncontrast is well brought out by the statement of John Locke that words\nhave a double use,--\"civil\" and \"philosophical.\" \"By their civil use, I\nmean such a communication of thoughts and ideas by words as may serve\nfor the upholding of common conversation and commerce about the ordinary\naffairs and conveniences of civil life.... By the philosophical use of\nwords, I mean such a use of them as may serve to convey the precise\nnotions of things, and to express in general propositions certain and\nundoubted truths.\"\n\n[Sidenote: Hence education has to transform it into an intellectual\ntool]\n\nThis distinction of the practical and social from the intellectual use\nof language throws much light on the problem of the school in respect to\nspeech. That problem is _to direct pupils' oral and written speech, used\nprimarily for practical and social ends, so that gradually it shall\nbecome a conscious tool of conveying knowledge and assisting thought_.\nHow without checking the spontaneous, natural motives--motives to which\nlanguage owes its vitality, force, vividness, and variety--are we to\nmodify speech habits so as to render them accurate and flexible\n_intellectual_ instruments? It is comparatively easy to encourage the\noriginal spontaneous flow and not make language over into a servant of\nreflective thought; it is comparatively easy to check and almost\ndestroy (so far as the schoolroom is concerned) native aim and interest,\nand to set up artificial and formal modes of expression in some isolated\nand technical matters. The difficulty lies in making over habits that\nhave to do with \"ordinary affairs and conveniences\" into habits\nconcerned with \"precise notions.\" The successful accomplishing of the\ntransformation requires (_i_) enlargement of the pupil's vocabulary;\n(_ii_) rendering its terms more precise and accurate, and (_iii_)\nformation of habits of consecutive discourse.\n\n[Sidenote: To enlarge vocabulary, the fund of concepts should be\nenlarged]\n\n(_i_) Enlargement of vocabulary. This takes place, of course, by wider\nintelligent contact with things and persons, and also vicariously, by\ngathering the meanings of words from the context in which they are heard\nor read. To grasp by either method a word in its meaning is to exercise\nintelligence, to perform an act of intelligent selection or analysis,\nand it is also to widen the fund of meanings or concepts readily\navailable in further intellectual enterprises (_ante_, p. 126). It is\nusual to distinguish between one's active and one's passive vocabulary,\nthe latter being composed of the words that are understood when they are\nheard or seen, the former of words that are used intelligently. The fact\nthat the passive vocabulary is ordinarily much larger than the active\nindicates a certain amount of inert energy, of power not freely\ncontrolled by an individual. Failure to use meanings that are\nnevertheless understood reveals dependence upon external stimulus, and\nlack of intellectual initiative. This mental laziness is to some extent\nan artificial product of education. Small children usually attempt to\nput to use every new word they get hold of, but when they learn to read\nthey are introduced to a large variety of terms that there is no\nordinary opportunity to use. The result is a kind of mental\nsuppression, if not smothering. Moreover, the meaning of words not\nactively used in building up and conveying ideas is never quite\nclear-cut or complete.\n\n[Sidenote: Looseness of thinking accompanies a limited vocabulary]\n\nWhile a limited vocabulary may be due to a limited range of experience,\nto a sphere of contact with persons and things so narrow as not to\nsuggest or require a full store of words, it is also due to carelessness\nand vagueness. A happy-go-lucky frame of mind makes the individual\naverse to clear discriminations, either in perception or in his own\nspeech. Words are used loosely in an indeterminate kind of reference to\nthings, and the mind approaches a condition where practically everything\nis just a thing-um-bob or a what-do-you-call-it. Paucity of vocabulary\non the part of those with whom the child associates, triviality and\nmeagerness in the child's reading matter (as frequently even in his\nschool readers and text-books), tend to shut down the area of mental\nvision.\n\n[Sidenote: Command of language involves command of things]\n\nWe must note also the great difference between flow of words and command\nof language. Volubility is not necessarily a sign of a large vocabulary;\nmuch talking or even ready speech is quite compatible with moving round\nand round in a circle of moderate radius. Most schoolrooms suffer from a\nlack of materials and appliances save perhaps books--and even these are\n\"written down\" to the supposed capacity, or incapacity, of children.\nOccasion and demand for an enriched vocabulary are accordingly\nrestricted. The vocabulary of things studied in the schoolroom is very\nlargely isolated; it does not link itself organically to the range of\nthe ideas and words that are in vogue outside the school. Hence the\nenlargement that takes place is often nominal, adding to the inert,\nrather than to the active, fund of meanings and terms.\n\n(_ii_) Accuracy of vocabulary. One way in which the fund of words and\nconcepts is increased is by discovering and naming shades of\nmeaning--that is to say, by making the vocabulary more precise. Increase\nin definiteness is as important relatively as is the enlargement of the\ncapital stock absolutely.\n\n[Sidenote: The _general_ as the vague and as the distinctly generic]\n\nThe first meanings of terms, since they are due to superficial\nacquaintance with things, are general in the sense of being vague. The\nlittle child calls all men papa; acquainted with a dog, he may call the\nfirst horse he sees a big dog. Differences of quantity and intensity are\nnoted, but the fundamental meaning is so vague that it covers things\nthat are far apart. To many persons trees are just trees, being\ndiscriminated only into deciduous trees and evergreens, with perhaps\nrecognition of one or two kinds of each. Such vagueness tends to persist\nand to become a barrier to the advance of thinking. Terms that are\nmiscellaneous in scope are clumsy tools at best; in addition they are\nfrequently treacherous, for their ambiguous reference causes us to\nconfuse things that should be distinguished.\n\n[Sidenote: Twofold growth of words in sense or signification]\n\nThe growth of precise terms out of original vagueness takes place\nnormally in two directions: toward words that stand for relationships\nand words that stand for highly individualized traits (compare what was\nsaid about the development of meanings, p. 122); the first being\nassociated with abstract, the second with concrete, thinking. Some\nAustralian tribes are said to have no words for _animal_ or for _plant_,\nwhile they have specific names for every variety of plant and animal in\ntheir neighborhoods. This minuteness of vocabulary represents progress\ntoward definiteness, but in a one-sided way. Specific properties are\ndistinguished, but not relationships.[28] On the other hand, students of\nphilosophy and of the general aspects of natural and social science are\napt to acquire a store of terms that signify relations without balancing\nthem up with terms that designate specific individuals and traits. The\nordinary use of such terms as _causation_, _law_, _society_,\n_individual_, _capital_, illustrates this tendency.\n\n    [28] The term _general_ is itself an ambiguous term, meaning (in its\n    best logical sense) the related and also (in its natural usage) the\n    indefinite, the vague. _General_, in the first sense, denotes the\n    discrimination of a principle or generic relation; in the second\n    sense, it denotes the absence of discrimination of specific or\n    individual properties.\n\n[Sidenote: Words alter their meanings so as to change their logical\nfunctions]\n\nIn the history of language we find both aspects of the growth of\nvocabulary illustrated by changes in the sense of words: some words\noriginally wide in their application are narrowed to denote shades of\nmeaning; others originally specific are widened to express\nrelationships. The term _vernacular_, now meaning mother speech, has\nbeen generalized from the word _verna_, meaning a slave born in the\nmaster's household. _Publication_ has evolved its meaning of\ncommunication by means of print, through restricting an earlier meaning\nof any kind of communication--although the wider meaning is retained in\nlegal procedure, as publishing a libel. The sense of the word _average_\nhas been generalized from a use connected with dividing loss by\nshipwreck proportionately among various sharers in an enterprise.[29]\n\n    [29] A large amount of material illustrating the twofold change in\n    the sense of words will be found in Jevons, _Lessons in Logic_.\n\n[Sidenote: Similar changes occur in the vocabulary of every student]\n\nThese historical changes assist the educator to appreciate the changes\nthat occur with individuals together with advance in intellectual\nresources. In studying geometry, a pupil must learn both to narrow and\nto extend the meanings of such familiar words as _line_, _surface_,\n_angle_, _square_, _circle_; to narrow them to the precise meanings\ninvolved in demonstrations; to extend them to cover generic relations\nnot expressed in ordinary usage. Qualities of color and size must be\nexcluded; relations of direction, of variation in direction, of limit,\nmust be definitely seized. A like transformation occurs, of course, in\nevery subject of study. Just at this point lies the danger, alluded to\nabove, of simply overlaying common meanings with new and isolated\nmeanings instead of effecting a genuine working-over of popular and\npractical meanings into adequate logical tools.\n\n[Sidenote: The value of technical terms]\n\nTerms used with intentional exactness so as to express a meaning, the\nwhole meaning, and only the meaning, are called _technical_. For\neducational purposes, a technical term indicates something relative, not\nabsolute; for a term is technical not because of its verbal form or its\nunusualness, but because it is employed to fix a meaning precisely.\nOrdinary words get a technical quality when used intentionally for this\nend. Whenever thought becomes more accurate, a (relatively) technical\nvocabulary grows up. Teachers are apt to oscillate between extremes in\nregard to technical terms. On the one hand, these are multiplied in\nevery direction, seemingly on the assumption that learning a new piece\nof terminology, accompanied by verbal description or definition, is\nequivalent to grasping a new idea. When it is seen how largely the net\noutcome is the accumulation of an isolated set of words, a jargon or\nscholastic cant, and to what extent the natural power of judgment is\nclogged by this accumulation, there is a reaction to the opposite\nextreme. Technical terms are banished: \"name words\" exist but not\nnouns; \"action words\" but not verbs; pupils may \"take away,\" but not\nsubtract; they may tell what four fives are, but not what four times\nfive are, and so on. A sound instinct underlies this reaction--aversion\nto words that give the pretense, but not the reality, of meaning. Yet\nthe fundamental difficulty is not with the word, but with the idea. If\nthe idea is not grasped, nothing is gained by using a more familiar\nword; if the idea is perceived, the use of the term that exactly names\nit may assist in fixing the idea. Terms denoting highly exact meanings\nshould be introduced only sparingly, that is, a few at a time; they\nshould be led up to gradually, and great pains should be taken to secure\nthe circumstances that render precision of meaning significant.\n\n[Sidenote: Importance of consecutive discourse]\n\n(_iii_) Consecutive discourse. As we saw, language connects and\norganizes meanings as well as selects and fixes them. As every meaning\nis set in the context of some situation, so every word in concrete use\nbelongs to some sentence (it may itself represent a condensed sentence),\nand the sentence, in turn, belongs to some larger story, description, or\nreasoning process. It is unnecessary to repeat what has been said about\nthe importance of continuity and ordering of meanings. We may, however,\nnote some ways in which school practices tend to interrupt\nconsecutiveness of language and thereby interfere harmfully with\nsystematic reflection. (_a_) Teachers have a habit of monopolizing\ncontinued discourse. Many, if not most, instructors would be surprised\nif informed at the end of the day of the amount of time they have talked\nas compared with any pupil. Children's conversation is often confined to\nanswering questions in brief phrases, or in single disconnected\nsentences. Expatiation and explanation are reserved for the teacher,\nwho often admits any hint at an answer on the part of the pupil, and\nthen amplifies what he supposes the child must have meant. The habits of\nsporadic and fragmentary discourse thus promoted have inevitably a\ndisintegrating intellectual influence.\n\n[Sidenote: Too minute questioning]\n\n(_b_) Assignment of too short lessons when accompanied (as it usually is\nin order to pass the time of the recitation period) by minute \"analytic\"\nquestioning has the same effect. This evil is usually at its height in\nsuch subjects as history and literature, where not infrequently the\nmaterial is so minutely subdivided as to break up the unity of meaning\nbelonging to a given portion of the matter, to destroy perspective, and\nin effect to reduce the whole topic to an accumulation of disconnected\ndetails all upon the same level. More often than the teacher is aware,\n_his_ mind carries and supplies the background of unity of meaning\nagainst which pupils project isolated scraps.\n\n[Sidenote: Making avoidance of error the aim]\n\n(_c_) Insistence upon avoiding error instead of attaining power tends\nalso to interruption of continuous discourse and thought. Children who\nbegin with something to say and with intellectual eagerness to say it\nare sometimes made so conscious of minor errors in substance and form\nthat the energy that should go into constructive thinking is diverted\ninto anxiety not to make mistakes, and even, in extreme cases, into\npassive quiescence as the best method of minimizing error. This tendency\nis especially marked in connection with the writing of compositions,\nessays, and themes. It has even been gravely recommended that little\nchildren should always write on trivial subjects and in short sentences\nbecause in that way they are less likely to make mistakes, while the\nteaching of writing to high school and college students occasionally\nreduces itself to a technique for detecting and designating mistakes.\nThe resulting self-consciousness and constraint are only part of the\nevil that comes from a negative ideal.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER FOURTEEN\n\nOBSERVATION AND INFORMATION IN THE TRAINING OF MIND\n\n\n[Sidenote: No thinking without acquaintance with facts]\n\nThinking is an ordering of subject-matter with reference to discovering\nwhat it signifies or indicates. Thinking no more exists apart from this\narranging of subject-matter than digestion occurs apart from the\nassimilating of food. The way in which the subject-matter is furnished\nmarks, therefore, a fundamental point. If the subject-matter is provided\nin too scanty or too profuse fashion, if it comes in disordered array or\nin isolated scraps, the effect upon habits of thought is detrimental. If\npersonal observation and communication of information by others (whether\nin books or speech) are rightly conducted, half the logical battle is\nwon, for they are the channels of obtaining subject-matter.\n\n\nSec. 1. _The Nature and Value of Observation_\n\n[Sidenote: Fallacy of making \"facts\" an end in themselves]\n\nThe protest, mentioned in the last chapter, of educational reformers\nagainst the exaggerated and false use of language, insisted upon\npersonal and direct observation as the proper alternative course. The\nreformers felt that the current emphasis upon the linguistic factor\neliminated all opportunity for first-hand acquaintance with real things;\nhence they appealed to sense-perception to fill the gap. It is not\nsurprising that this enthusiastic zeal failed frequently to ask how and\nwhy observation is educative, and hence fell into the error of making\nobservation an end in itself and was satisfied with any kind of material\nunder any kind of conditions. Such isolation of observation is still\nmanifested in the statement that this faculty develops first, then that\nof memory and imagination, and finally the faculty of thought. From this\npoint of view, observation is regarded as furnishing crude masses of raw\nmaterial, to which, later on, reflective processes may be applied. Our\nprevious pages should have made obvious the fallacy of this point of\nview by bringing out the fact that simple concrete thinking attends all\nour intercourse with things which is not on a purely physical level.\n\n[Sidenote: The sympathetic motive in extending acquaintance]\n\nI. All persons have a natural desire--akin to curiosity--for a widening\nof their range of acquaintance with persons and things. The sign in art\ngalleries that forbids the carrying of canes and umbrellas is obvious\ntestimony to the fact that simply to see is not enough for many people;\nthere is a feeling of lack of acquaintance until some direct contact is\nmade. This demand for fuller and closer knowledge is quite different\nfrom any conscious interest in observation for its own sake. Desire for\nexpansion, for \"self-realization,\" is its motive. The interest is\nsympathetic, socially and aesthetically sympathetic, rather than\ncognitive. While the interest is especially keen in children (because\ntheir actual experience is so small and their possible experience so\nlarge), it still characterizes adults when routine has not blunted its\nedge. This sympathetic interest provides the medium for carrying and\nbinding together what would otherwise be a multitude of items, diverse,\ndisconnected, and of no intellectual use. These systems are indeed\nsocial and aesthetic rather than consciously intellectual; but they\nprovide the natural medium for more conscious intellectual explorations.\nSome educators have recommended that nature study in the elementary\nschools be conducted with a love of nature and a cultivation of aesthetic\nappreciation in view rather than in a purely analytic spirit. Others\nhave urged making much of the care of animals and plants. Both of these\nimportant recommendations have grown out of experience, not out of\ntheory, but they afford excellent exemplifications of the theoretic\npoint just made.\n\n[Sidenote: Analytic inspection for the sake of doing]\n\n[Sidenote: Direct and indirect sense training]\n\nII. In normal development, specific analytic observations are originally\nconnected almost exclusively with the imperative need for noting means\nand ends in carrying on activities. When one is _doing_ something, one\nis compelled, if the work is to succeed (unless it is purely routine),\nto use eyes, ears, and sense of touch as guides to action. Without a\nconstant and alert exercise of the senses, not even plays and games can\ngo on; in any form of work, materials, obstacles, appliances, failures,\nand successes, must be intently watched. Sense-perception does not occur\nfor its own sake or for purposes of training, but because it is an\nindispensable factor of success in doing what one is interested in\ndoing. Although not designed for sense-training, this method effects\nsense-training in the most economical and thoroughgoing way. Various\nschemes have been designed by teachers for cultivating sharp and prompt\nobservation of forms, as by writing words,--even in an unknown\nlanguage,--making arrangements of figures and geometrical forms, and\nhaving pupils reproduce them after a momentary glance. Children often\nattain great skill in quick seeing and full reproducing of even\ncomplicated meaningless combinations. But such methods of\ntraining--however valuable as occasional games and diversions--compare\nvery unfavorably with the training of eye and hand that comes as an\nincident of work with tools in wood or metals, or of gardening, cooking,\nor the care of animals. Training by isolated exercises leaves no\ndeposit, leads nowhere; and even the technical skill acquired has little\nradiating power, or transferable value. Criticisms made upon the\ntraining of observation on the ground that many persons cannot correctly\nreproduce the forms and arrangement of the figures on the face of their\nwatches misses the point because persons do not look at a watch to find\nout whether four o'clock is indicated by IIII or by IV, but to find out\nwhat time it is, and, if observation decides this matter, noting other\ndetails is irrelevant and a waste of time. In the training of\nobservation the question of end and motive is all-important.\n\n[Sidenote: Scientific observations are linked to problems]\n\n[Sidenote: \"Object-lessons\" rarely supply problems]\n\nIII. The further, more intellectual or scientific, development of\nobservation follows the line of the growth of practical into theoretical\nreflection already traced (_ante_, Chapter Ten). As problems emerge and\nare dwelt upon, observation is directed less to the facts that bear upon\na practical aim and more upon what bears upon a problem as such. What\nmakes observations in schools often intellectually ineffective is (more\nthan anything else) that they are carried on independently of a sense of\na problem that they serve to define or help to solve. The evil of this\nisolation is seen through the entire educational system, from the\nkindergarten, through the elementary and high schools, to the college.\nAlmost everywhere may be found, at some time, recourse to observations\nas if they were of complete and final value in themselves, instead of\nthe means of getting material that bears upon some difficulty and its\nsolution. In the kindergarten are heaped up observations regarding\ngeometrical forms, lines, surfaces, cubes, colors, and so on. In the\nelementary school, under the name of \"object-lessons,\" the form and\nproperties of objects,--apple, orange, chalk,--selected almost at\nrandom, are minutely noted, while under the name of \"nature study\"\nsimilar observations are directed upon leaves, stones, insects, selected\nin almost equally arbitrary fashion. In high school and college,\nlaboratory and microscopic observations are carried on as if the\naccumulation of observed facts and the acquisition of skill in\nmanipulation were educational ends in themselves.\n\nCompare with these methods of isolated observations the statement of\nJevons that observation as conducted by scientific men is effective\n\"only when excited and guided by hope of verifying a theory\"; and again,\n\"the number of things which can be observed and experimented upon are\ninfinite, and if we merely set to work to record facts without any\ndistinct purpose, our records will have no value.\" Strictly speaking,\nthe first statement of Jevons is too narrow. Scientific men institute\nobservations not merely to test an idea (or suggested explanatory\nmeaning), but also to locate the nature of a problem and thereby guide\nthe formation of a hypothesis. But the principle of his remark, namely,\nthat scientific men never make the accumulation of observations an end\nin itself, but always a means to a general intellectual conclusion, is\nabsolutely sound. Until the force of this principle is adequately\nrecognized in education, observation will be largely a matter of\nuninteresting dead work or of acquiring forms of technical skill that\nare not available as intellectual resources.\n\n\nSec. 2. _Methods and Materials of Observation in the Schools_ The best\nmethods in use in our schools furnish many suggestions for giving\nobservation its right place in mental training.\n\n[Sidenote: Observation should involve discovery]\n\nI. They rest upon the sound assumption that observation is an _active_\nprocess. Observation is exploration, inquiry for the sake of discovering\nsomething previously hidden and unknown, this something being needed in\norder to reach some end, practical or theoretical. Observation is to be\ndiscriminated from recognition, or perception of what is familiar. The\nidentification of something already understood is, indeed, an\nindispensable function of further investigation (_ante_, p. 119); but it\nis relatively automatic and passive, while observation proper is\nsearching and deliberate. Recognition refers to the already mastered;\nobservation is concerned with mastering the unknown. The common notions\nthat perception is like writing on a blank piece of paper, or like\nimpressing an image on the mind as a seal is imprinted on wax or as a\npicture is formed on a photographic plate (notions that have played a\ndisastrous role in educational methods), arise from a failure to\ndistinguish between automatic recognition and the searching attitude of\ngenuine observation.\n\n[Sidenote: and suspense during an unfolding change]\n\nII. Much assistance in the selection of appropriate material for\nobservation may be derived from considering the eagerness and closeness\nof observation that attend the following of a story or drama. Alertness\nof observation is at its height wherever there is \"plot interest.\" Why?\nBecause of the balanced combination of the old and the new, of the\nfamiliar and the unexpected. We hang on the lips of the story-teller\nbecause of the element of mental suspense. Alternatives are suggested,\nbut are left ambiguous, so that our whole being questions: What befell\nnext? Which way did things turn out? Contrast the ease and fullness with\nwhich a child notes all the salient traits of a story, with the labor\nand inadequacy of his observation of some dead and static thing where\nnothing raises a question or suggests alternative outcomes.\n\n[Sidenote: This \"plot interest\" manifested in activity,]\n\nWhen an individual is engaged in doing or making something (the activity\nnot being of such a mechanical and habitual character that its outcome\nis assured), there is an analogous situation. Something is going to come\nof what is present to the sense, but just what is doubtful. The plot is\nunfolding toward success or failure, but just when or how is uncertain.\nHence the keen and tense observation of conditions and results that\nattends constructive manual operations. Where the subject-matter is of a\nmore impersonal sort, the same principle of movement toward a denouement\nmay apply. It is a commonplace that what is moving attracts notice when\nthat which is at rest escapes it. Yet too often it would almost seem as\nif pains had been taken to deprive the material of school observations\nof all life and dramatic quality, to reduce it to a dead and inert form.\nMere change is not enough, however. Vicissitude, alteration, motion,\nexcite observation; but if they merely excite it, there is no thought.\nThe changes must (like the incidents of a well-arranged story or plot)\ntake place in a certain cumulative order; each successive change must at\nonce remind us of its predecessor and arouse interest in its successor\nif observations of change are to be logically fruitful.\n\n[Sidenote: and in cycles of growth]\n\nLiving beings, plants, and animals, fulfill the twofold requirement to\nan extraordinary degree. Where there is growth, there is motion,\nchange, process; and there is also arrangement of the changes in a\ncycle. The first arouses, the second organizes, observation. Much of the\nextraordinary interest that children take in planting seeds and watching\nthe stages of their growth is due to the fact that a drama is enacting\nbefore their eyes; there is something doing, each step of which is\nimportant in the destiny of the plant. The great practical improvements\nthat have occurred of late years in the teaching of botany and zooelogy\nwill be found, upon inspection, to involve treating plants and animals\nas beings that act, that do something, instead of as mere inert\nspecimens having static properties to be inventoried, named, and\nregistered. Treated in the latter fashion, observation is inevitably\nreduced to the falsely \"analytic\" (_ante_, p. 112),--to mere dissection\nand enumeration.\n\n[Sidenote: Observation of structure grows out of noting function]\n\nThere is, of course, a place, and an important place, for observation of\nthe mere static qualities of objects. When, however, the primary\ninterest is in _function_, in what the object does, there is a motive\nfor more minute analytic study, for the observation of _structure_.\nInterest in noting an activity passes insensibly into noting how the\nactivity is carried on; the interest in what is accomplished passes over\ninto an interest in the organs of its accomplishing. But when the\nbeginning is made with the morphological, the anatomical, the noting of\npeculiarities of form, size, color, and distribution of parts, the\nmaterial is so cut off from significance as to be dead and dull. It is\nas natural for children to look intently for the _stomata_ of a plant\nafter they have become interested in its function of breathing, as it is\nrepulsive to attend minutely to them when they are considered as\nisolated peculiarities of structure.\n\n[Sidenote: Scientific observation]\n\nIII. As the center of interest of observations becomes less personal,\nless a matter of means for effecting one's own ends, and less aesthetic,\nless a matter of contribution of parts to a total emotional effect,\nobservation becomes more consciously intellectual in quality. Pupils\nlearn to observe for the sake (_i_) of finding out what sort of\nperplexity confronts them; (_ii_) of inferring hypothetical explanations\nfor the puzzling features that observation reveals; and (_iii_) of\ntesting the ideas thus suggested.\n\n[Sidenote: should be extensive]\n\n[Sidenote: and intensive]\n\nIn short, observation becomes scientific in nature. Of such observations\nit may be said that they should follow a rhythm between the extensive\nand the intensive. Problems become definite, and suggested explanations\nsignificant by a certain alternation between a wide and somewhat loose\nsoaking in of relevant facts and a minutely accurate study of a few\nselected facts. The wider, less exact observation is necessary to give\nthe student a feeling for the reality of the field of inquiry, a sense\nof its bearings and possibilities, and to store his mind with materials\nthat imagination may transform into suggestions. The intensive study is\nnecessary for limiting the problem, and for securing the conditions of\nexperimental testing. As the latter by itself is too specialized and\ntechnical to arouse intellectual growth, the former by itself is too\nsuperficial and scattering for control of intellectual development. In\nthe sciences of life, field study, excursions, acquaintance with living\nthings in their natural habitats, may alternate with microscopic and\nlaboratory observation. In the physical sciences, phenomena of light, of\nheat, of electricity, of moisture, of gravity, in their broad setting in\nnature--their physiographic setting--should prepare for an exact study\nof selected facts under conditions of laboratory control. In this way,\nthe student gets the benefit of technical scientific methods of\ndiscovery and testing, while he retains his sense of the identity of the\nlaboratory modes of energy with large out-of-door realities, thereby\navoiding the impression (that so often accrues) that the facts studied\nare peculiar to the laboratory.\n\n\nSec. 3. _Communication of Information_\n\n[Sidenote: Importance of hearsay acquaintance]\n\nWhen all is said and done the field of fact open to any one observer by\nhimself is narrow. Into every one of our beliefs, even those that we\nhave worked out under the conditions of utmost personal, first-hand\nacquaintance, much has insensibly entered from what we have heard or\nread of the observations and conclusions of others. In spite of the\ngreat extension of direct observation in our schools, the vast bulk of\neducational subject-matter is derived from other sources--from\ntext-book, lecture, and viva-voce interchange. No educational question\nis of greater import than how to get the most logical good out of\nlearning through transmission from others.\n\n[Sidenote: Logically, this ranks only as evidence or testimony]\n\nDoubtless the chief meaning associated with the word _instruction_ is\nthis conveying and instilling of the results of the observations and\ninferences of others. Doubtless the undue prominence in education of the\nideal of amassing information (_ante_, p. 52) has its source in the\nprominence of the learning of other persons. The problem then is how to\nconvert it into an intellectual asset. In logical terms, the material\nsupplied from the experience of others is _testimony_: that is to say,\n_evidence_ submitted by others to be employed by one's own judgment in\nreaching a conclusion. How shall we treat the subject-matter supplied by\ntext-book and teacher so that it shall rank as material for reflective\ninquiry, not as ready-made intellectual pabulum to be accepted and\nswallowed just as supplied by the store?\n\n[Sidenote: Communication by others should not encroach on observation,]\n\nIn reply to this question, we may say (_i_) that the communication of\nmaterial should be _needed_. That is to say, it should be such as cannot\nreadily be attained by personal observation. For teacher or book to cram\npupils with facts which, with little more trouble, they could discover\nby direct inquiry is to violate their intellectual integrity by\ncultivating mental servility. This does not mean that the material\nsupplied through communication of others should be meager or scanty.\nWith the utmost range of the senses, the world of nature and history\nstretches out almost infinitely beyond. But the fields within which\ndirect observation is feasible should be carefully chosen and sacredly\nprotected.\n\n[Sidenote: should not be dogmatic in tone,]\n\n(_ii_) Material should be supplied by way of stimulus, not with dogmatic\nfinality and rigidity. When pupils get the notion that any field of\nstudy has been definitely surveyed, that knowledge about it is\nexhaustive and final, they may continue docile pupils, but they cease to\nbe students. All thinking whatsoever--so be it _is_ thinking--contains a\nphase of originality. This originality does not imply that the student's\nconclusion varies from the conclusions of others, much less that it is a\nradically novel conclusion. His originality is not incompatible with\nlarge use of materials and suggestions contributed by others.\nOriginality means personal interest in the question, personal initiative\nin turning over the suggestions furnished by others, and sincerity in\nfollowing them out to a tested conclusion. Literally, the phrase \"Think\nfor yourself\" is tautological; any thinking is thinking for one's self.\n\n[Sidenote: should have relation to a personal problem,]\n\n(_iii_) The material furnished by way of information should be relevant\nto a question that is vital in the student's own experience. What has\nbeen said about the evil of observations that begin and end in\nthemselves may be transferred without change to communicated learning.\nInstruction in subject-matter that does not fit into any problem already\nstirring in the student's own experience, or that is not presented in\nsuch a way as to arouse a problem, is worse than useless for\nintellectual purposes. In that it fails to enter into any process of\nreflection, it is useless; in that it remains in the mind as so much\nlumber and debris, it is a barrier, an obstruction in the way of\neffective thinking when a problem arises.\n\n[Sidenote: and to prior systems of experience]\n\nAnother way of stating the same principle is that material furnished by\ncommunication must be such as to enter into some existing system or\norganization of experience. All students of psychology are familiar with\nthe principle of apperception--that we assimilate new material with what\nwe have digested and retained from prior experiences. Now the\n\"apperceptive basis\" of material furnished by teacher and text-book\nshould be found, as far as possible, in what the learner has derived\nfrom more direct forms of his own experience. There is a tendency to\nconnect material of the schoolroom simply with the material of prior\nschool lessons, instead of linking it to what the pupil has acquired in\nhis out-of-school experience. The teacher says, \"Do you not remember\nwhat we learned from the book last week?\"--instead of saying, \"Do you\nnot recall such and such a thing that you have seen or heard?\" As a\nresult, there are built up detached and independent systems of school\nknowledge that inertly overlay the ordinary systems of experience\ninstead of reacting to enlarge and refine them. Pupils are taught to\nlive in two separate worlds, one the world of out-of-school experience,\nthe other the world of books and lessons.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER FIFTEEN\n\nTHE RECITATION AND THE TRAINING OF THOUGHT\n\n\n[Sidenote: Importance of the recitation]\n\nIn the recitation the teacher comes into his closest contact with the\npupil. In the recitation focus the possibilities of guiding children's\nactivities, influencing their language habits, and directing their\nobservations. In discussing the significance of the recitation as an\ninstrumentality of education, we are accordingly bringing to a head the\npoints considered in the last three chapters, rather than introducing a\nnew topic. The method in which the recitation is carried on is a crucial\ntest of a teacher's skill in diagnosing the intellectual state of his\npupils and in supplying the conditions that will arouse serviceable\nmental responses: in short, of his art as a teacher.\n\n[Sidenote: Re-citing _versus_ reflecting]\n\nThe use of the word _recitation_ to designate the period of most\nintimate intellectual contact of teacher with pupil and pupil with pupil\nis a fateful fact. To re-cite is to cite again, to repeat, to tell over\nand over. If we were to call this period _reiteration_, the designation\nwould hardly bring out more clearly than does the word _recitation_, the\ncomplete domination of instruction by rehearsing of secondhand\ninformation, by memorizing for the sake of producing correct replies at\nthe proper time. Everything that is said in this chapter is\ninsignificant in comparison with the primary truth that the recitation\nis a place and time for stimulating and directing reflection, and that\nreproducing memorized matter is only an incident--even though an\nindispensable incident--in the process of cultivating a thoughtful\nattitude.\n\n\nSec. 1. _The Formal Steps of Instruction_\n\n[Sidenote: Herbart's analysis of method of teaching]\n\nBut few attempts have been made to formulate a method, resting on\ngeneral principles, of conducting a recitation. One of these is of great\nimportance and has probably had more and better influence upon the\n\"hearing of lessons\" than all others put together; namely, the analysis\nby Herbart of a recitation into five successive steps. The steps are\ncommonly known as \"the formal steps of instruction.\" The underlying\nnotion is that no matter how subjects vary in scope and detail there is\none and only one best way of mastering them, since there is a single\n\"general method\" uniformly followed by the mind in effective attack upon\nany subject. Whether it be a first-grade child mastering the rudiments\nof number, a grammar-school pupil studying history, or a college student\ndealing with philology, in each case the first step is preparation, the\nsecond presentation, followed in turn by comparison and generalization,\nending in the application of the generalizations to specific and new\ninstances.\n\n[Sidenote: Illustration of method]\n\nBy preparation is meant asking questions to remind pupils of familiar\nexperiences of their own that will be useful in acquiring the new topic.\nWhat one already knows supplies the means with which one apprehends the\nunknown. Hence the process of learning the new will be made easier if\nrelated ideas in the pupil's mind are aroused to activity--are brought\nto the foreground of consciousness. When pupils take up the study of\nrivers, they are first questioned about streams or brooks with which\nthey are already acquainted; if they have never seen any, they may be\nasked about water running in gutters. Somehow \"apperceptive masses\" are\nstirred that will assist in getting hold of the new subject. The step of\npreparation ends with statement of the aim of the lesson. Old knowledge\nhaving been made active, new material is then \"presented\" to the pupils.\nPictures and relief models of rivers are shown; vivid oral descriptions\nare given; if possible, the children are taken to see an actual river.\nThese two steps terminate the acquisition of particular facts.\n\nThe next two steps are directed toward getting a general principle or\nconception. The local river is compared with, perhaps, the Amazon, the\nSt. Lawrence, the Rhine; by this comparison accidental and unessential\nfeatures are eliminated and the river _concept_ is formed: the elements\ninvolved in the river-meaning are gathered together and formulated. This\ndone, the resulting principle is fixed in mind and is clarified by being\napplied to other streams, say to the Thames, the Po, the Connecticut.\n\n[Sidenote: Comparison with our prior analysis of reflection]\n\nIf we compare this account of the methods of instruction with our own\nanalysis of a complete operation of thinking, we are struck by obvious\nresemblances. In our statement (compare Chapter Six) the \"steps\" are the\noccurrence of a problem or a puzzling phenomenon; then observation,\ninspection of facts, to locate and clear up the problem; then the\nformation of a hypothesis or the suggestion of a possible solution\ntogether with its elaboration by reasoning; then the testing of the\nelaborated idea by using it as a guide to new observations and\nexperimentations. In each account, there is the sequence of (_i_)\nspecific facts and events, (_ii_) ideas and reasonings, and (_iii_)\napplication of their result to specific facts. In each case, the\nmovement is inductive-deductive. We are struck also by one difference:\nthe Herbartian method makes no reference to a difficulty, a discrepancy\nrequiring explanation, as the origin and stimulus of the whole process.\nAs a consequence, it often seems as if the Herbartian method deals with\nthought simply as an incident in the process of acquiring information,\ninstead of treating the latter as an incident in the process of\ndeveloping thought.\n\n[Sidenote: The formal steps concern the teacher's preparation rather\nthan the recitation itself]\n\nBefore following up this comparison in more detail, we may raise the\nquestion whether the recitation should, in any case, follow a uniform\nprescribed series of steps--even if it be admitted that this series\nexpresses the normal logical order. In reply, it may be said that just\nbecause the order is logical, it represents the survey of subject-matter\nmade by one who already understands it, not the path of progress\nfollowed by a mind that is learning. The former may describe a uniform\nstraight-way course, the latter must be a series of tacks, of zigzag\nmovements back and forth. In short, the formal steps indicate the points\nthat should be covered by the teacher in preparing to conduct a\nrecitation, but should not prescribe the actual course of teaching.\n\n[Sidenote: The teacher's problem]\n\nLack of any preparation on the part of a teacher leads, of course, to a\nrandom, haphazard recitation, its success depending on the inspiration\nof the moment, which may or may not come. Preparation in simply the\nsubject-matter conduces to a rigid order, the teacher examining pupils\non their exact knowledge of their text. But the teacher's problem--as a\nteacher--does not reside in mastering a subject-matter, but in adjusting\na subject-matter to the nurture of thought. Now the formal steps\nindicate excellently well the questions a teacher should ask in working\nout the problem of teaching a topic. What preparation have my pupils for\nattacking this subject? What familiar experiences of theirs are\navailable? What have they already learned that will come to their\nassistance? How shall I present the matter so as to fit economically and\neffectively into their present equipment? What pictures shall I show? To\nwhat objects shall I call their attention? What incidents shall I\nrelate? What comparisons shall I lead them to draw, what similarities to\nrecognize? What is the general principle toward which the whole\ndiscussion should point as its conclusion? By what applications shall I\ntry to fix, to clear up, and to make real their grasp of this general\nprinciple? What activities of their own may bring it home to them as a\ngenuinely significant principle?\n\n[Sidenote: Only flexibility of procedure gives a recitation vitality]\n\n[Sidenote: Any step may come first]\n\nNo teacher can fail to teach better if he has considered such questions\nsomewhat systematically. But the more the teacher has reflected upon\npupils' probable intellectual response to a topic from the various\nstand-points indicated by the five formal steps, the more he will be\nprepared to conduct the recitation in a flexible and free way, and yet\nnot let the subject go to pieces and the pupils' attention drift in all\ndirections; the less necessary will he find it, in order to preserve a\nsemblance of intellectual order, to follow some one uniform scheme. He\nwill be ready to take advantage of any sign of vital response that shows\nitself from any direction. One pupil may already have some\ninkling--probably erroneous--of a general principle. Application may\nthen come at the very beginning in order to show that the principle will\nnot work, and thereby induce search for new facts and a new\ngeneralization. Or the abrupt presentation of some fact or object may so\nstimulate the minds of pupils as to render quite superfluous any\npreliminary preparation. If pupils' minds are at work at all, it is\nquite impossible that they should wait until the teacher has\nconscientiously taken them through the steps of preparation,\npresentation, and comparison before they form at least a working\nhypothesis or generalization. Moreover, unless comparison of the\nfamiliar and the unfamiliar is introduced at the beginning, both\npreparation and presentation will be aimless and without logical motive,\nisolated, and in so far meaningless. The student's mind cannot be\nprepared at large, but only for something in particular, and\npresentation is usually the best way of evoking associations. The\nemphasis may fall now on the familiar concept that will help grasp the\nnew, now on the new facts that frame the problem; but in either case it\nis comparison and contrast with the other term of the pair which gives\neither its force. In short, to transfer the logical steps from the\npoints that the teacher needs to consider to uniform successive steps in\nthe conduct of a recitation, is to impose the logical review of a mind\nthat already understands the subject, upon the mind that is struggling\nto comprehend it, and thereby to obstruct the logic of the student's own\nmind.\n\n\nSec. 2. _The Factors in the Recitation_\n\nBearing in mind that the formal steps represent intertwined factors of a\nstudent's progress and not mileposts on a beaten highway, we may\nconsider each by itself. In so doing, it will be convenient to follow\nthe example of many of the Herbartians and reduce the steps to three:\nfirst, the apprehension of specific or particular facts; second,\nrational generalization; third, application and verification.\n\n[Sidenote: Preparation is getting the sense of a problem]\n\nI. The processes having to do with particular facts are preparation and\npresentation. The best, indeed the only preparation is arousal to a\nperception of something that needs explanation, something unexpected,\npuzzling, peculiar. When the feeling of a genuine perplexity lays hold\nof any mind (no matter how the feeling arises), that mind is alert and\ninquiring, because stimulated from within. The shock, the bite, of a\nquestion will force the mind to go wherever it is capable of going,\nbetter than will the most ingenious pedagogical devices unaccompanied by\nthis mental ardor. It is the sense of a problem that forces the mind to\na survey and recall of the past to discover what the question means and\nhow it may be dealt with.\n\n[Sidenote: Pitfalls in preparation]\n\nThe teacher in his more deliberate attempts to call into play the\nfamiliar elements in a student's experience, must guard against certain\ndangers. (_i_) The step of preparation must not be too long continued or\ntoo exhaustive, or it defeats its own end. The pupil loses interest and\nis bored, when a plunge _in medias res_ might have braced him to his\nwork. The preparation part of the recitation period of some\nconscientious teachers reminds one of the boy who takes so long a run in\norder to gain headway for a jump that when he reaches the line, he is\ntoo tired to jump far. (_ii_) The organs by which we apprehend new\nmaterial are our habits. To insist too minutely upon turning over\nhabitual dispositions into conscious ideas is to interfere with their\nbest workings. Some factors of familiar experience must indeed be\nbrought to conscious recognition, just as transplanting is necessary\nfor the best growth of some plants. But it is fatal to be forever\ndigging up either experiences or plants to see how they are getting\nalong. Constraint, self-consciousness, embarrassment, are the\nconsequence of too much conscious refurbishing of familiar experiences.\n\n[Sidenote: Statement of aim of lesson]\n\nStrict Herbartians generally lay it down that statement--by the\nteacher--of the aim of a lesson is an indispensable part of preparation.\nThis preliminary statement of the aim of the lesson hardly seems more\nintellectual in character, however, than tapping a bell or giving any\nother signal for attention and transfer of thoughts from diverting\nsubjects. To the teacher the statement of an end is significant, because\nhe has already been at the end; from a pupil's standpoint the statement\nof what he is _going_ to learn is something of an Irish bull. If the\nstatement of the aim is taken too seriously by the instructor, as\nmeaning more than a signal to attention, its probable result is\nforestalling the pupil's own reaction, relieving him of the\nresponsibility of developing a problem and thus arresting his mental\ninitiative.\n\n[Sidenote: How much the teacher should tell or show]\n\nIt is unnecessary to discuss at length presentation as a factor in the\nrecitation, because our last chapter covered the topic under the\ncaptions of observation and communication. The function of presentation\nis to supply materials that force home the nature of a problem and\nfurnish suggestions for dealing with it. The practical problem of the\nteacher is to preserve a balance between so little showing and telling\nas to fail to stimulate reflection and so much as to choke thought.\nProvided the student is genuinely engaged upon a topic, and provided the\nteacher is willing to give the student a good deal of leeway as to what\nhe assimilates and retains (not requiring rigidly that everything be\ngrasped or reproduced), there is comparatively little danger that one\nwho is himself enthusiastic will communicate too much concerning a\ntopic.\n\n[Sidenote: The pupil's responsibility for making out a reasonable case]\n\nII. The distinctively rational phase of reflective inquiry consists, as\nwe have already seen, in the elaboration of an idea, or working\nhypothesis, through conjoint comparison and contrast, terminating in\ndefinition or formulation. (_i_) So far as the recitation is concerned,\nthe primary requirement is that the student be held responsible for\nworking out mentally every suggested principle so as to show what he\nmeans by it, how it bears upon the facts at hand, and how the facts bear\nupon it. Unless the pupil is made responsible for developing on his own\naccount the _reasonableness_ of the guess he puts forth, the recitation\ncounts for practically nothing in the training of reasoning power. A\nclever teacher easily acquires great skill in dropping out the inept and\nsenseless contributions of pupils, and in selecting and emphasizing\nthose in line with the result he wishes to reach. But this method\n(sometimes called \"suggestive questioning\") relieves the pupils of\nintellectual responsibility, save for acrobatic agility in following the\nteacher's lead.\n\n[Sidenote: The necessity for mental leisure]\n\n(_ii_) The working over of a vague and more or less casual idea into\ncoherent and definite form is impossible without a pause, without\nfreedom from distraction. We say \"Stop and think\"; well, all reflection\ninvolves, at some point, stopping external observations and reactions so\nthat an idea may mature. Meditation, withdrawal or abstraction from\nclamorous assailants of the senses and from demands for overt action, is\nas necessary at the reasoning stage, as are observation and experiment\nat other periods. The metaphors of digestion and assimilation, that so\nreadily occur to mind in connection with rational elaboration, are\nhighly instructive. A silent, uninterrupted working-over of\nconsiderations by comparing and weighing alternative suggestions, is\nindispensable for the development of coherent and compact conclusions.\nReasoning is no more akin to disputing or arguing, or to the abrupt\nseizing and dropping of suggestions, than digestion is to a noisy\nchamping of the jaws. The teacher must secure opportunity for leisurely\nmental digestion.\n\n[Sidenote: A typical central object necessary]\n\n(_iii_) In the process of comparison, the teacher must avert the\ndistraction that ensues from putting before the mind a number of facts\non the same level of importance. Since attention is selective, some one\nobject normally claims thought and furnishes the center of departure and\nreference. This fact is fatal to the success of the pedagogical methods\nthat endeavor to conduct comparison on the basis of putting before the\nmind a row of objects of equal importance. In comparing, the mind does\nnot naturally begin with objects _a_, _b_, _c_, _d_, and try to find the\nrespect in which they agree. It begins with a single object or situation\nmore or less vague and inchoate in meaning, and makes excursions to\nother objects in order to render understanding of the central object\nconsistent and clear. The mere multiplication of objects of comparison\nis adverse to successful reasoning. Each fact brought within the field\nof comparison should clear up some obscure feature or extend some\nfragmentary trait of the primary object.\n\n[Sidenote: Importance of types]\n\nIn short, pains should be taken to see that the object on which thought\ncenters is _typical_: material being typical when, although individual\nor specific, it is such as readily and fruitfully suggests the\nprinciples of an entire class of facts. No sane person begins to think\nabout rivers wholesale or at large. He begins with the one river that\nhas presented some puzzling trait. Then he studies other rivers to get\nlight upon the baffling features of this one, and at the same time he\nemploys the characteristic traits of his original object to reduce to\norder the multifarious details that appear in connection with other\nrivers. This working back and forth preserves unity of meaning, while\nprotecting it from monotony and narrowness. Contrast, unlikeness, throws\nsignificant features into relief, and these become instruments for\nbinding together into an organized or coherent meaning dissimilar\ncharacters. The mind is defended against the deadening influence of many\nisolated particulars and also against the barrenness of a merely formal\nprinciple. Particular cases and properties supply emphasis and\nconcreteness; general principles convert the particulars into a single\nsystem.\n\n[Sidenote: All insight into meaning effects generalization]\n\n(_iv_) Hence generalization is not a separate and single act; it is\nrather a constant tendency and function of the entire discussion or\nrecitation. Every step forward toward an idea that comprehends, that\nexplains, that unites what was isolated and therefore puzzling,\ngeneralizes. The little child generalizes as truly as the adolescent or\nadult, even though he does not arrive at the same generalities. If he is\nstudying a river basin, his knowledge is generalized in so far as the\nvarious details that he apprehends are found to be the effects of a\nsingle force, as that of water pushing downward from gravity, or are\nseen to be successive stages of a single history of formation. Even if\nthere were acquaintance with only one river, knowledge of it under such\nconditions would be generalized knowledge.\n\n[Sidenote: Insight into meaning requires formulation]\n\nThe factor of formulation, of conscious stating, involved in\ngeneralization, should also be a constant function, not a single formal\nact. Definition means essentially the growth of a meaning out of\nvagueness into _definiteness_. Such final verbal definition as takes\nplace should be only the culmination of a steady growth in distinctness.\nIn the reaction against ready-made verbal definitions and rules, the\npendulum should never swing to the opposite extreme, that of neglecting\nto summarize the net meaning that emerges from dealing with particular\nfacts. Only as general summaries are made from time to time does the\nmind reach a conclusion or a resting place; and only as conclusions are\nreached is there an intellectual deposit available in future\nunderstanding.\n\n[Sidenote: Generalization means capacity for application to the new]\n\nIII. As the last words indicate, application and generalization lie\nclose together. Mechanical skill for further use may be achieved without\nany explicit recognition of a principle; nay, in routine and narrow\ntechnical matters, conscious formulation may be a hindrance. But without\nrecognition of a principle, without generalization, the power gained\ncannot be transferred to new and dissimilar matters. The inherent\nsignificance of generalization is that it frees a meaning from local\nrestrictions; rather, generalization _is_ meaning so freed; it is\nmeaning emancipated from accidental features so as to be available in\nnew cases. The surest test for detecting a spurious generalization (a\nstatement general in verbal form but not accompanied by discernment of\nmeaning), is the failure of the so-called principle spontaneously to\nextend itself. The essence of the general is application. (_Ante_, p.\n29.)\n\n[Sidenote: Fossilized _versus_ flexible principles]\n\nThe true purpose of exercises that apply rules and principles is, then,\nnot so much to drive or drill them in as to give adequate insight into\nan idea or principle. To treat application as a separate final step is\ndisastrous. In every judgment some meaning is employed as a basis for\nestimating and interpreting some fact; by this application the meaning\nis itself enlarged and tested. When the general meaning is regarded as\ncomplete in itself, application is treated as an external,\nnon-intellectual use to which, for practical purposes alone, it is\nadvisable to put the meaning. The principle is one self-contained thing;\nits use is another and independent thing. When this divorce occurs,\nprinciples become fossilized and rigid; they lose their inherent\nvitality, their self-impelling power.\n\n[Sidenote: Self-application a mark of genuine principles]\n\nA true conception is a _moving_ idea, and it seeks outlet, or\napplication to the interpretation of particulars and the guidance of\naction, as naturally as water runs downhill. In fine, just as reflective\nthought requires particular facts of observation and events of action\nfor its origination, so it also requires particular facts and deeds for\nits own consummation. \"Glittering generalities\" are inert because they\nare spurious. Application is as much an intrinsic part of genuine\nreflective inquiry as is alert observation or reasoning itself. Truly\ngeneral principles tend to apply themselves. The teacher needs, indeed,\nto supply conditions favorable to use and exercise; but something is\nwrong when artificial tasks have arbitrarily to be invented in order to\nsecure application for principles.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER SIXTEEN\n\nSOME GENERAL CONCLUSIONS\n\n\nWe shall conclude our survey of how we think and how we should think by\npresenting some factors of thinking which should balance each other, but\nwhich constantly tend to become so isolated that they work against each\nother instead of cooperating to make reflective inquiry efficient.\n\n\nSec. 1. _The Unconscious and the Conscious_\n\n[Sidenote: The _understood_ as the unconsciously assumed]\n\nIt is significant that one meaning of the term _understood_ is something\nso thoroughly mastered, so completely agreed upon, as to be _assumed_;\nthat is to say, taken as a matter of course without explicit statement.\nThe familiar \"goes without saying\" means \"it is understood.\" If two\npersons can converse intelligently with each other, it is because a\ncommon experience supplies a background of mutual understanding upon\nwhich their respective remarks are projected. To dig up and to formulate\nthis common background would be imbecile; it is \"understood\"; that is,\nit is silently supplied and implied as the taken-for-granted medium of\nintelligent exchange of ideas.\n\n[Sidenote: Inquiry as conscious formulation]\n\nIf, however, the two persons find themselves at cross-purposes, it is\nnecessary to dig up and compare the presuppositions, the implied\ncontext, on the basis of which each is speaking. The implicit is made\nexplicit; what was unconsciously assumed is exposed to the light of\nconscious day. In this way, the root of the misunderstanding is\nremoved. Some such rhythm of the unconscious and the conscious is\ninvolved in all fruitful thinking. A person in pursuing a consecutive\ntrain of thoughts takes some system of ideas for granted (which\naccordingly he leaves unexpressed, \"unconscious\") as surely as he does\nin conversing with others. Some context, some situation, some\ncontrolling purpose dominates his explicit ideas so thoroughly that it\ndoes not need to be consciously formulated and expounded. Explicit\nthinking goes on within the limits of what is implied or understood. Yet\nthe fact that reflection originates in a problem makes it necessary _at\nsome points_ consciously to inspect and examine this familiar\nbackground. We have to turn upon some unconscious assumption and make it\nexplicit.\n\n[Sidenote: Rules cannot be given for attaining a balance]\n\nNo rules can be laid down for attaining the due balance and rhythm of\nthese two phases of mental life. No ordinance can prescribe at just what\npoint the spontaneous working of some unconscious attitude and habit is\nto be checked till we have made explicit what is implied in it. No one\ncan tell in detail just how far the analytic inspection and formulation\nare to be carried. We can say that they must be carried far enough so\nthat the individual will know what he is about and be able to guide his\nthinking; but in a given case just how far is that? We can say that they\nmust be carried far enough to detect and guard against the source of\nsome false perception or reasoning, and to get a leverage on the\ninvestigation; but such statements only restate the original difficulty.\nSince our reliance must be upon the disposition and tact of the\nindividual in the particular case, there is no test of the success of an\neducation more important than the extent to which it nurtures a type of\nmind competent to maintain an economical balance of the unconscious and\nthe conscious.\n\n[Sidenote: The over-_analytic_ to be avoided]\n\nThe ways of teaching criticised in the foregoing pages as false\n\"analytic\" methods of instruction (_ante_, p. 112), all reduce\nthemselves to the mistake of directing explicit attention and\nformulation to what would work better if left an unconscious attitude\nand working assumption. To pry into the familiar, the usual, the\nautomatic, simply for the sake of making it conscious, simply for the\nsake of formulating it, is both an impertinent interference, and a\nsource of boredom. To be forced to dwell consciously upon the accustomed\nis the essence of ennui; to pursue methods of instruction that have that\ntendency is deliberately to cultivate lack of interest.\n\n[Sidenote: The detection of error, the clinching of truth, demand\nconscious statement]\n\nOn the other hand, what has been said in criticism of merely routine\nforms of skill, what has been said about the importance of having a\ngenuine problem, of introducing the novel, and of reaching a deposit of\ngeneral meaning weighs on the other side of the scales. It is as fatal\nto good thinking to fail to make conscious the standing source of some\nerror or failure as it is to pry needlessly into what works smoothly. To\nover-simplify, to exclude the novel for the sake of prompt skill, to\navoid obstacles for the sake of averting errors, is as detrimental as to\ntry to get pupils to formulate everything they know and to state every\nstep of the process employed in getting a result. Where the shoe\npinches, analytic examination is indicated. When a topic is to be\nclinched so that knowledge of it will carry over into an effective\nresource in further topics, conscious condensation and summarizing are\nimperative. In the early stage of acquaintance with a subject, a good\ndeal of unconstrained unconscious mental play about it may be\npermitted, even at the risk of some random experimenting; in the later\nstages, conscious formulation and review may be encouraged. Projection\nand reflection, going directly ahead and turning back in scrutiny,\nshould alternate. Unconsciousness gives spontaneity and freshness;\nconsciousness, conviction and control.\n\n\nSec. 2. _Process and Product_\n\n[Sidenote: Play and work again]\n\nA like balance in mental life characterizes process and product. We met\none important phase of this adjustment in considering play and work. In\nplay, interest centers in activity, without much reference to its\noutcome. The sequence of deeds, images, emotions, suffices on its own\naccount. In work, the end holds attention and controls the notice given\nto means. Since the difference is one of direction of interest, the\ncontrast is one of emphasis, not of cleavage. When comparative\nprominence in consciousness of activity or outcome is transformed into\nisolation of one from the other, play degenerates into fooling, and work\ninto drudgery.\n\n[Sidenote: Play should not be fooling,]\n\nBy \"fooling\" we understand a series of disconnected temporary overflows\nof energy dependent upon whim and accident. When all reference to\noutcome is eliminated from the sequence of ideas and acts that make\nplay, each member of the sequence is cut loose from every other and\nbecomes fantastic, arbitrary, aimless; mere fooling follows. There is\nsome inveterate tendency to fool in children as well as in animals; nor\nis the tendency wholly evil, for at least it militates against falling\ninto ruts. But when it is excessive in amount, dissipation and\ndisintegration follow; and the only way of preventing this consequence\nis to make regard for results enter into even the freest play activity.\n\n[Sidenote: nor work, drudgery]\n\nExclusive interest in the result alters work to drudgery. For by\ndrudgery is meant those activities in which the interest in the outcome\ndoes not suffuse the means of getting the result. Whenever a piece of\nwork becomes drudgery, the process of doing loses all value for the\ndoer; he cares solely for what is to be had at the end of it. The work\nitself, the putting forth of energy, is hateful; it is just a necessary\nevil, since without it some important end would be missed. Now it is a\ncommonplace that in the work of the world many things have to be done\nthe doing of which is not intrinsically very interesting. However, the\nargument that children should be kept doing drudgery-tasks because\nthereby they acquire power to be faithful to distasteful duties, is\nwholly fallacious. Repulsion, shirking, and evasion are the consequences\nof having the repulsive imposed--not loyal love of duty. Willingness to\nwork for ends by means of acts not naturally attractive is best attained\nby securing such an appreciation of the value of the end that a sense of\nits value is transferred to its means of accomplishment. Not interesting\nin themselves, they borrow interest from the result with which they are\nassociated.\n\n[Sidenote: Balance of playfulness and seriousness the intellectual\nideal]\n\n[Sidenote: Free play of mind]\n\n[Sidenote: is normal in childhood]\n\nThe intellectual harm accruing from divorce of work and play, product\nand process, is evidenced in the proverb, \"All work and no play makes\nJack a dull boy.\" That the obverse is true is perhaps sufficiently\nsignalized in the fact that fooling is so near to foolishness. To be\nplayful and serious at the same time is possible, and it defines the\nideal mental condition. Absence of dogmatism and prejudice, presence of\nintellectual curiosity and flexibility, are manifest in the free play of\nthe mind upon a topic. To give the mind this free play is not to\nencourage toying with a subject, but is to be interested in the\nunfolding of the subject on its own account, apart from its subservience\nto a preconceived belief or habitual aim. Mental play is\nopen-mindedness, faith in the power of thought to preserve its own\nintegrity without external supports and arbitrary restrictions. Hence\nfree mental play involves seriousness, the earnest following of the\ndevelopment of subject-matter. It is incompatible with carelessness or\nflippancy, for it exacts accurate noting of every result reached in\norder that every conclusion may be put to further use. What is termed\nthe interest in truth for its own sake is certainly a serious matter,\nyet this pure interest in truth coincides with love of the free play of\nthought.\n\nIn spite of many appearances to the contrary--usually due to social\nconditions of either undue superfluity that induces idle fooling or\nundue economic pressure that compels drudgery--childhood normally\nrealizes the ideal of conjoint free mental play and thoughtfulness.\nSuccessful portrayals of children have always made their wistful\nintentness at least as obvious as their lack of worry for the morrow. To\nlive in the present is compatible with condensation of far-reaching\nmeanings in the present. Such enrichment of the present for its own sake\nis the just heritage of childhood and the best insurer of future growth.\nThe child forced into premature concern with economic remote results may\ndevelop a surprising sharpening of wits in a particular direction, but\nthis precocious specialization is always paid for by later apathy and\ndullness.\n\n[Sidenote: The attitude of the artist]\n\nThat art originated in play is a common saying. Whether or not the\nsaying is historically correct, it suggests that harmony of mental\nplayfulness and seriousness describes the artistic ideal. When the\nartist is preoccupied overmuch with means and materials, he may achieve\nwonderful technique, but not the artistic spirit _par excellence_. When\nthe animating idea is in excess of the command of method, aesthetic\nfeeling may be indicated, but the art of presentation is too defective\nto express the feeling thoroughly. When the thought of the end becomes\nso adequate that it compels translation into the means that embody it,\nor when attention to means is inspired by recognition of the end they\nserve, we have the attitude typical of the artist, an attitude that may\nbe displayed in all activities, even though not conventionally\ndesignated arts.\n\n[Sidenote: The art of the teacher culminates in nurturing this attitude]\n\nThat teaching is an art and the true teacher an artist is a familiar\nsaying. Now the teacher's own claim to rank as an artist is measured by\nhis ability to foster the attitude of the artist in those who study with\nhim, whether they be youth or little children. Some succeed in arousing\nenthusiasm, in communicating large ideas, in evoking energy. So far,\nwell; but the final test is whether the stimulus thus given to wider\naims succeeds in transforming itself into power, that is to say, into\nthe attention to detail that ensures mastery over means of execution. If\nnot, the zeal flags, the interest dies out, the ideal becomes a clouded\nmemory. Other teachers succeed in training facility, skill, mastery of\nthe technique of subjects. Again it is well--so far. But unless\nenlargement of mental vision, power of increased discrimination of final\nvalues, a sense for ideas--for principles--accompanies this training,\nforms of skill ready to be put indifferently to any end may be the\nresult. Such modes of technical skill may display themselves, according\nto circumstances, as cleverness in serving self-interest, as docility in\ncarrying out the purposes of others, or as unimaginative plodding in\nruts. To nurture inspiring aim and executive means into harmony with\neach other is at once the difficulty and the reward of the teacher.\n\n\nSec. 3. _The Far and the Near_\n\n[Sidenote: \"Familiarity breeds contempt,\"]\n\nTeachers who have heard that they should avoid matters foreign to\npupils' experience, are frequently surprised to find pupils wake up when\nsomething beyond their ken is introduced, while they remain apathetic in\nconsidering the familiar. In geography, the child upon the plains seems\nperversely irresponsive to the intellectual charms of his local\nenvironment, and fascinated by whatever concerns mountains or the sea.\nTeachers who have struggled with little avail to extract from pupils\nessays describing the details of things with which they are well\nacquainted, sometimes find them eager to write on lofty or imaginary\nthemes. A woman of education, who has recorded her experience as a\nfactory worker, tried retelling _Little Women_ to some factory girls\nduring their working hours. They cared little for it, saying, \"Those\ngirls had no more interesting experience than we have,\" and demanded\nstories of millionaires and society leaders. A man interested in the\nmental condition of those engaged in routine labor asked a Scotch girl\nin a cotton factory what she thought about all day. She replied that as\nsoon as her mind was free from starting the machinery, she married a\nduke, and their fortunes occupied her for the remainder of the day.\n\n[Sidenote: since only the novel demands attention,]\n\nNaturally, these incidents are not told in order to encourage methods of\nteaching that appeal to the sensational, the extraordinary, or the\nincomprehensible. They are told, however, to enforce the point that the\nfamiliar and the near do not excite or repay thought on their own\naccount, but only as they are adjusted to mastering the strange and\nremote. It is a commonplace of psychology that we do not attend to the\nold, nor consciously mind that to which we are thoroughly accustomed.\nFor this, there is good reason: to devote attention to the old, when new\ncircumstances are constantly arising to which we should adjust\nourselves, would be wasteful and dangerous. Thought must be reserved for\nthe new, the precarious, the problematic. Hence the mental constraint,\nthe sense of being lost, that comes to pupils when they are invited to\nturn their thoughts upon that with which they are already familiar. The\nold, the near, the accustomed, is not that _to_ which but that _with_\nwhich we attend; it does not furnish the material of a problem, but of\nits solution.\n\n[Sidenote: which, in turn, can be given only through the old]\n\nThe last sentence has brought us to the balancing of new and old, of the\nfar and that close by, involved in reflection. The more remote supplies\nthe stimulus and the motive; the nearer at hand furnishes the point of\napproach and the available resources. This principle may also be stated\nin this form: the best thinking occurs when the easy and the difficult\nare duly proportioned to each other. The easy and the familiar are\nequivalents, as are the strange and the difficult. Too much that is easy\ngives no ground for inquiry; too much of the hard renders inquiry\nhopeless.\n\n[Sidenote: The given and the suggested]\n\nThe necessity of the interaction of the near and the far follows\ndirectly from the nature of thinking. Where there is thought, something\npresent suggests and indicates something absent. Accordingly unless the\nfamiliar is presented under conditions that are in some respect\nunusual, it gives no jog to thinking, it makes no demand upon what is\nnot present in order to be understood. And if the subject presented is\ntotally strange, there is no basis upon which it may suggest anything\nserviceable for its comprehension. When a person first has to do with\nfractions, for example, they will be wholly baffling so far as they do\nnot signify to him some relation that he has already mastered in dealing\nwith whole numbers. When fractions have become thoroughly familiar, his\nperception of them acts simply as a signal to do certain things; they\nare a \"substitute sign,\" to which he can react without thinking.\n(_Ante_, p. 178.) If, nevertheless, the situation as a whole presents\nsomething novel and hence uncertain, the entire response is not\nmechanical, because this mechanical operation is put to use in solving a\nproblem. There is no end to this spiral process: foreign subject-matter\ntransformed through thinking into a familiar possession becomes a\nresource for judging and assimilating additional foreign subject-matter.\n\n[Sidenote: Observation supplies the near, imagination the remote]\n\nThe need for both imagination and observation in every mental enterprise\nillustrates another aspect of the same principle. Teachers who have\ntried object-lessons of the conventional type have usually found that\nwhen the lessons were new, pupils were attracted to them as a diversion,\nbut as soon as they became matters of course they were as dull and\nwearisome as was ever the most mechanical study of mere symbols.\nImagination could not play about the objects so as to enrich them. The\nfeeling that instruction in \"facts, facts\" produces a narrow Gradgrind\nis justified not because facts in themselves are limiting, but because\nfacts are dealt out as such hard and fast ready-made articles as to\nleave no room to imagination. Let the facts be presented so as to\nstimulate imagination, and culture ensues naturally enough. The converse\nis equally true. The imaginative is not necessarily the imaginary; that\nis, the unreal. The proper function of imagination is vision of\nrealities that cannot be exhibited under existing conditions of\nsense-perception. Clear insight into the remote, the absent, the obscure\nis its aim. History, literature, and geography, the principles of\nscience, nay, even geometry and arithmetic, are full of matters that\nmust be imaginatively realized if they are realized at all. Imagination\nsupplements and deepens observation; only when it turns into the\nfanciful does it become a substitute for observation and lose logical\nforce.\n\n[Sidenote: Experience through communication of others' experience]\n\nA final exemplification of the required balance between near and far is\nfound in the relation that obtains between the narrower field of\nexperience realized in an individual's own contact with persons and\nthings, and the wider experience of the race that may become his through\ncommunication. Instruction always runs the risk of swamping the pupil's\nown vital, though narrow, experience under masses of communicated\nmaterial. The instructor ceases and the teacher begins at the point\nwhere communicated matter stimulates into fuller and more significant\nlife that which has entered by the strait and narrow gate of\nsense-perception and motor activity. Genuine communication involves\ncontagion; its name should not be taken in vain by terming communication\nthat which produces no community of thought and purpose between the\nchild and the race of which he is the heir.\n\n\n\n\nINDEX\n\n\n  Abstract, 135-144\n\n  Abstraction, 155 f.\n\n  Action, activity, activities, 46, 140 f., 157-169, 190 f.\n\n  Active attitude and the concept, 128\n\n  Analysis, 111-115, 152 f.;\n    in education, 112\n\n  Apperception, 199;\n    apperceptive masses, 203\n\n  Application, 129 f., 212 f.\n\n  Apprehension, 119 f.;\n    _see_ Understanding.\n\n  Artist, attitude of, 219 f.\n\n  Articulation, 3\n\n  Authority, 4, 25\n\n\n  Bacon, 22, 25, 33\n\n  Bain, 155\n\n  Balance, 38\n\n  Behavior, 5, 42-4, 54 f.;\n    _see_ Action, Occupations\n\n  Belief, 1, 3-7;\n    reached indirectly, 18\n\n\n  Central factor in thinking, 7\n\n  Children, 42 f.\n\n  Clifford, 148\n\n  Coherence, 3, 80\n\n  Comparison, 89 f., 202\n\n  Comprehension, 120;\n    _see_ Understanding.\n\n  Concentration, 40\n\n  Concept, conception, 107, 125-9, 213;\n    _see_ Meaning.\n\n  Conclusion, 3, 5 f., 40, 77, 80 f.;\n    technique of, 87 f.\n\n  Concrete, 135-44\n\n  Congruity, 3, 72\n\n  Connection, 7;\n    _see_ Relation.\n\n  Consecutive, 2, 40, 42\n\n  Consequence, consequential, 2;\n    consequences, 5\n\n  Consistency, 40\n\n  Continuity, 3, 40, 80\n\n  Control, 18-28;\n    of deduction, 93-100;\n    of induction, 84-93;\n    of suggestion, 84 f., 93;\n    _see_ Regulation.\n\n  Corroborate, corroboration, 9, 77\n\n  Curiosity, 31 ff., 105\n\n\n  Darwin, 38, 90, 127\n\n  Data, 79 f., 95, 103 f., 106\n\n  Decision, 107\n\n  Deduction, 79, 93-100, 103;\n    control of, 93-100\n\n  Definition, 130 f.;\n    definitions, 131-4, 212\n\n  Development, of ideas, 83;\n    _see_ Elaboration, Ratiocination, Reasoning.\n\n  Discipline, 63, 78;\n    formal, 45, 50\n\n  Discourse, consecutive, 185 f.\n\n  Discovery, inductive, 81, 116\n\n  Division, 131\n\n  Dogmatism, 149, 198\n\n  Doing, 139, 190\n\n  Doubt, 6, 9, 13, 102;\n    _see_ Perplexity, Uncertainty.\n\n  Drill, 52, 63\n\n  Drudgery, 218\n\n\n  Education, intellectual, 57, 62;\n    aim of, 143 f., 156\n\n  Elaboration, of ideas, 75 f., 84, 94 f., 103, 106, 209;\n    _see_ Development, Ratiocination, Reasoning.\n\n  Emerson, 173\n\n  Emotion, 4, 11, 74\n\n  Emphasis, 112, 114 f.\n\n  Empirical thinking, 145-9\n\n  End, 11 f.\n\n  Evidence, 5, 7 f., 27, 103 f.;\n    _see_ Grounds.\n\n  Experience, 132, 156, 199 f., 224\n\n  Experiment, experimental, 70 f., 77, 91 f., 99 f., 151 f., 154\n\n  Extension, 130 f.\n\n\n  Fact _vs_ idea, 109;\n    facts, 3, 5\n\n  Faculty psychology, 45\n\n  Familiar, familiarity, 120-25, 136 f., 206, 214 f., 221 f.\n\n  Fooling, 217\n\n  Formalism;\n    _see_ Discipline.\n\n  Formal steps of instruction, 202, 206\n\n  Formulation, 112 f., 209, 212, 214-17\n\n  Freedom, 64 f.;\n    intellectual, 66\n\n  Function, 123;\n    function of signifying, 7, 15\n\n\n  General 80, 82, 99, 182 f.;\n    _see_ Principles, Universal.\n\n  Generality, 129, 134\n\n  Generalization, 211 f.\n\n  Grounds, 1, 4-8, 80;\n    _see_ Evidence.\n\n  Guiding factor in reflection, 11\n\n\n  Habits;\n    _see_ Action.\n\n  Herbart, 202\n\n  Herbartian method, 202-6\n\n  Hobhouse, 31\n\n  Hypothesis, 5, 75, 77, 81 f., 94 f., 108, 209\n\n\n  Idea, 75, 77, 79, 107-10;\n    _see_ Meaning.\n\n  Idle thinking, 2\n\n  Image, 109\n\n  Imagination, 165 f., 223 f.\n\n  Imitation, 47, 51, 160\n\n  Implication, 5, 75, 77\n\n  Impulse, 64\n\n  Induction, 79-93, 103;\n    control of, 84-93;\n    scientific, 86\n\n  Inference, 26 f., 75, 77, 101;\n    critical, 74, 82;\n    systematic, 81\n\n  Information, 52 f., 197-200\n\n  Inquiry, 5, 9 f.\n\n  Intellect, intellectual activity, 44, 50, 62\n\n  Intension, 130 f.\n\n  Internal congruity, 3\n\n  Isolation, 96-100, 117, 191\n\n\n  James, 119, 121, 153 f.\n\n  Jevons, 91 f., 183, 192\n\n  Judgment, 5;\n    factors of, 101;\n    good judgment, 101, 103, 106 f.;\n    and inference, 101 ff.;\n    intuitive, 104 f.;\n    principles of, 106 f.;\n    suspended, 74, 82, 105, 108;\n    tentative, 101\n\n\n  Knowledge, 3 f., 6, 95;\n    spiral movement of, 120, 223\n\n\n  Language, 170-87;\n    and education, 176-87;\n    and meaning, 171;\n    technical, 184 f.;\n    as a tool of thought, 170 ff., 179\n\n  Leap, in inference, 26, 75\n\n  Leisure, 209 f.\n\n  Locke, 19 n., 22-5\n\n  Logical, 56 f.;\n    _vs._ psychological, 62 f.\n\n\n  Meaning, meanings, 7, 17, 79 f., 82, 94, 116-34;\n    capital fund of, store of, 118, 120, 126, 161, 174, 180;\n    individual, 173 f.;\n    organization of, 175, 185;\n    as tools, keys, instruments, 108 f., 120, 125 f., 129;\n    _See_ Concept.\n\n  Memory, 107\n\n  Method, 46-50, 58;\n    analytic and synthetic, 114;\n    formal, 60\n\n  Mill, 18 n.\n\n  Mood, 5\n\n  Motivation, 42\n\n\n  Negative cases, 90\n\n  Notion. _See_ Concept.\n\n\n  Object lessons, 140, 192\n\n  Observation, 3, 7, 69 f., 76 f., 85, 91, 96, 188-97, 223 f.;\n    in schools, 193-7;\n    scientific, 196\n\n  Occupation, occupations, 43, 99, 167 f.\n\n  Openmindedness, 219\n\n  Order, orderliness, 2, 39, 41, 46, 57;\n    _see_ Consecutive.\n\n  Organization, 39, 41;\n    of subject matter, 62\n\n  Originality, 198\n\n\n  Particulars, 80, 82;\n    _cf._ General, Universal.\n\n  Passion, 4, 23, 25, 106\n\n  Perception, 3, 190;\n    _cf._ Observation\n\n  Perplexity, 9, 11, 72\n\n  Placing, 114, 126\n\n  Play, 161-7, 217-21;\n    of mind, 219\n\n  Playfulness, 162, 218 f.\n\n  Practical deliberation, 68 f.\n\n  Prejudice, 4\n\n  Principles, 212 f.\n\n  Problem, 9, 12, 33, 72, 74, 76, 109, 120, 191 f., 199, 207\n\n  Proof, 7, 27, 81\n\n  Pseudo-idea, 109\n\n  Psychological (_vs._ logical), 62 f.\n\n  Purpose, 11\n\n\n  Ratiocination, 75 f., 83\n\n  Reason, reasoning, 75-8, 94 f., 98\n\n  Reasons, 5 f.\n\n  Recitation, 201-13;\n    factors in, 206-13\n\n  Reflection, 2 f., 5 f.;\n    central function of, 116;\n    double movement of, 79-84;\n    five steps in, 72-8, 203 f.\n\n  Regulation, 18-28;\n    _see_ Control.\n\n  Relation, relationship, 82, 97;\n    _see_ Connection.\n\n\n  Scientific thinking, 145-6\n\n  Sense training, 190-97\n\n  Sequence, 2; _cf._ Consequence.\n\n  Sidgwick, 127\n\n  Signify, 7, 15\n\n  Signs, 16, 171-6\n\n  Spiral movement, _see_ Knowledge.\n\n  Stimulus-response, 47\n\n  Studies, types of, 50\n\n  Subject matter, 58 f.;\n    intellectual, 45 f.;\n    logical, 61 f.;\n    practical, 49;\n    theoretical, 49;\n    and the teacher, 204 f.\n\n  Substitute signs, 177 f., 223\n\n  Succession, 3\n\n  Suggestion, 7, 12, 27, 74 f., 84 f.;\n    control of, 84 f., 93;\n    dimensions of, 34-7\n\n  Supposition, 4, 9\n\n  Suspense of judgment, 13, 74, 82\n\n  Symbols, _see_ Signs.\n\n  Synthesis, 114 f.\n\n\n  Terms, 3, 72 f., 76, 79, 95\n\n  Testing, 9, 13, 41, 82, 116;\n    of deduction, 96, 99\n\n  Theory, 138\n\n  Theoretical, 137\n\n  Thinking, complete, 96, 98 f., 100;\n    _see_ Reasoning, Reflection.\n\n  Thought, 8 f.;\n    educative value of, 2;\n    reflective, 2;\n    train of, 3;\n    types of, 1\n\n  Truth, truths, 3\n\n\n  Uncertainty, _see_ Doubt, Perplexity.\n\n  Unconscious, 214 ff.\n\n  Uncritical thinking, 12\n\n  Understanding, 116-20;\n    direct and indirect, 118-20, 136\n\n  Universal, 9\n\n\n  Vagueness, 129 f., 182, 212\n\n  Vailati, 81 n.\n\n  Venn, 17\n\n  Verification, 77\n\n  Vocabulary, 180-4\n\n\n  Ward, 110 n.\n\n  Warrant, 7\n\n  Wisdom, 52\n\n  Wonder, 31, 33 f.\n\n  Wordsworth, 31\n\n  Work, 162-7, 217-19\n\n\n\n\n\n<pre id=\"pg-footer\">","title":"How We Think","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":65096}