{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_44905/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_44905","id":"gutenberg_44905","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44905","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Category: Psychiatry/Psychology","Category: Teaching & Education","Education -- Philosophy"],"text":"[Transcriber\u2019s Notes:\n\nThis e-text contains a translation of Herbart\u2019s \u201cUmriss p\u00e4dagogischer\nVorlesungen\u201d, the main text of which is divided into numbered\nparagraphs. The numbers in the Index are references to these\nparagraphs. De Garmo\u2019s annotations are indented in this e-text by two\nspaces. Herbart\u2019s own annotations have the run-in heading \u201cNote\u201d and\nare indented by four spaces.\n\nItalic text is denoted by _underscores_ and small-capped text by =equal\nsigns=.]\n\n\n\n\n  OUTLINES OF EDUCATIONAL DOCTRINE\n\n\n  [Illustration: Publisher\u2019s logo]\n\n\n\n\n  OUTLINES OF EDUCATIONAL DOCTRINE\n\n\n  BY\n\n  JOHN FREDERICK HERBART\n\n\n  _TRANSLATED BY_\n\n  ALEXIS F. LANGE, =Ph.D.=\n  =Associate Professor of English and Scandinavian Philology, and\n  Dean of the Faculty of the College of Letters,\n  University of California=\n\n\n  _ANNOTATED BY_\n\n  CHARLES DE GARMO, =Ph.D.=\n  =Professor of the Science and Art of Education,\n  Cornell University=\n\n\n  New York\n  THE MACMILLAN COMPANY\n  LONDON: MACMILLAN & CO., =Ltd.=\n  1904\n\n  _All rights reserved_\n\n\n  =Copyright=, 1901,\n  =By= THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.\n\n  Set up and electrotyped. Published February, 1901. Reprinted\n  June, 1904.\n\n\n  Norwood Press\n  J. S. Cushing & Co.--Berwick & Smith Co.\n  Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nThe reasons for translating and annotating Herbart\u2019s \u201cOutlines\u201d are,\nfirst, to present to the English-speaking public Herbart\u2019s latest, and\nalso his most complete, work on education; and, second, to note to some\nextent at least the advances made in educational thought since Herbart\nlaid down his pen.\n\nHerbart\u2019s educational writings are distinguished by two marked\ncharacteristics: 1, their helpfulness in actual teaching; and 2, their\nsystematic completeness. The thoughtful reader can see the bearing\nof each part upon all the others; the purposes of education are so\ncompletely correlated with the means, that, whether the topic under\ndiscussion be apperception or interest or methods of teaching or school\ngovernment or moral training or the presentation of a particular study,\nthe reader is never at a loss to see the relation of this part to the\nwhole.\n\nThe eminent practicability of Herbart\u2019s thought depends upon his\npsychological point of view, which is always that of concrete\nexperience. The moment one tries to apply rational psychology to actual\nteaching, one begins to rise into the clouds, to become vague or,\nat least, general. The reason for this is that rational psychology\ndeals with unchangeable presuppositions of mind. We may conform our\nwork to these standards, but we cannot modify them, any more than we\ncan a law of nature. But when we have to deal with an apperceiving\ncontent, we feel at home, for over this we have some control. We can\nbuild up moral maxims, we can establish permanent interests, we can\nreveal the unfolding of whole developments of thought and effort, we\ncan fix the time order of studies and parts of studies; in short, we\ncan apply our pedagogical insight with some degree of success to actual\nschool problems. Though empirical psychology has in the last fifty\nyears had as rapid a development as any other department of science,\nit has never departed essentially from the direction fixed by Herbart.\nNew methods have indeed been applied, but the leading motive has\nremained empirical; it has had small tendency to drift toward rational\npsychology. This fact makes Herbart\u2019s educational thought, so far as\npsychological bearing is concerned, seem as fresh and modern as when it\nwas first recorded.\n\nIn one important respect, however, Herbart\u2019s system needs modernizing.\nIt is in relating education to conditions of society as it now exists.\nGerman society has never been that of English-speaking countries; much\nless does German society of the early part of the nineteenth century\ncorrespond to Anglo-Saxon society at the beginning of the twentieth.\nIndeed, even had there been correspondence before, there would be\ndivergence now. It is one of the main purposes of the annotation,\ntherefore, to point out the social implications of various parts of the\n\u201cOutlines.\u201d\n\nThe annotation has made no attempt to improve Herbart\u2019s prophetic\nvision concerning many important matters, or to elucidate self-evident\npropositions, or to supplement observations already complete, true, and\napt.\n\nEspecial attention is called to the exactness and illuminating\ncharacter of Herbart\u2019s diagnosis of mental weaknesses and disorders\nin children, together with his suggestions as to proper treatment.\nStudents of child-study, moreover, will find in this work not only\nencouragement in their work, but also assistance in determining what is\nworth studying in the child. The reader is constantly reminded of the\nfact that, when written by a master, no book is newer than an old one.\n\n  =Cornell University=,\n      January, 1901.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n                                                                  PAGE\n  =Introduction=                                                     1\n\n\n  PART I\n  _THE DOUBLE BASIS OF PEDAGOGICS_\n\n  CHAPTER\n     I. The Ethical Basis                                            7\n    II. The Psychological Basis                                     15\n\n\n  PART II\n  _OUTLINES OF GENERAL PEDAGOGICS_\n\n  SECTION I. GOVERNMENT OF CHILDREN\n     I. Theoretical Aspects                                         30\n    II. Practical Aspects                                           33\n\n  SECTION II. INSTRUCTION\n     I. The Relation of Instruction to Government and Training      39\n    II. The Aim of Instruction                                      44\n   III. The Conditions of Many-sidedness                            51\n    IV. The Conditions Determining Interest                         60\n     V. The Main Kinds of Interest                                  76\n    VI. The Material of Instruction from Different Points of View   93\n   VII. The Process of Instruction                                 105\n  VIII. Remarks on the Plan of Instruction as a Whole              134\n\n  SECTION III. TRAINING\n     I. The Relation of Training to Government and to Instruction  140\n    II. The Aim of Training                                        143\n   III. Differentiation of Character                               146\n    IV. Differentiation of Morality                                151\n     V. Helps in Training                                          154\n    VI. General Method of Training                                 160\n\n  SECTION IV. SYNOPSIS OF GENERAL PEDAGOGICS FROM THE POINT\n  OF VIEW OF AGE\n     I. The First Three Years                                      198\n    II. The Ages from Four to Eight                                201\n   III. Boyhood                                                    209\n    IV. Youth                                                      216\n\n\n  PART III\n  _SPECIAL APPLICATIONS OF PEDAGOGICS_\n\n  SECTION I. REMARKS ON THE TEACHINGS OF PARTICULAR BRANCHES\n  OF STUDY\n     I. Religion                                                   219\n    II. History                                                    223\n   III. Mathematics and Nature Study                               241\n    IV. Geography                                                  263\n     V. The Mother-tongue                                          269\n    VI. Greek and Latin                                            275\n   VII. Further Specification of Didactics                         289\n\n  SECTION II. THE FAULTS OF PUPILS AND THEIR TREATMENT\n     I. General Differentiation                                    292\n    II. The Sources of Moral Weakness                              301\n   III. The Effects of Training                                    308\n    IV. Special Faults                                             312\n\n  SECTION III. REMARKS ON THE ORGANIZATION OF EDUCATION\n     I. Home Education                                             317\n    II. Concerning Schools                                         321\n\n\n\n\nOUTLINES OF EDUCATIONAL DOCTRINE\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\n\n1. The plasticity, or educability, of the pupil is the fundamental\npostulate of pedagogics.\n\nThe concept plasticity, or capacity for being moulded, extends far\nbeyond the confines of pedagogics. It takes in even the primary\ncomponents of matter. It has been traced as far as the elementary\nsubstances entering into the chemical changes of organic bodies. Signs\nof plasticity of will are found in the souls of the higher animals.\nOnly man, however, exhibits plasticity of will in the direction of\nmoral conduct.\n\n  Had not the youthful mind the capacity to receive culture, education\n  would be impossible. This educability of the young has rarely if\n  ever been questioned in actual practice. Much philosophical strife,\n  however, has raged about the various conceptions of =WILL=, and\n  the consequent possibility of teaching virtue, or of training\n  the moral character. The extremes have been _fatalism_, or the\n  determination of conduct by means of forces lying entirely outside\n  the power of the individual; and _absolute caprice of will_, or the\n  determination of conduct entirely by the individual himself without\n  regard to outside influences. The doctrine of fatalism makes moral\n  education mechanical; that of volitional caprice makes it futile.\n  Educational theory must therefore assume a middle ground, in which\n  the self-activity of the individual and the moulding influence of\n  education are both recognized.\n\n2. Pedagogics as a science is based on ethics and psychology. The\nformer points out the goal of education; the latter the way, the means,\nand the obstacles.\n\nThis relationship involves the dependence of pedagogics on experience,\ninasmuch as ethics includes application to experience, while psychology\nhas its starting-point, not in metaphysics alone, but in experience\ncorrectly interpreted by metaphysics. But an exclusively empirical\nknowledge of man will not suffice for pedagogics. It is the less\nadequate in any age the greater the instability of morals, customs, and\nopinions; for, as the new gains on the old, generalizations from former\nobservations cease to hold true.\n\n  In order to accept the statement that ethics points out the goal of\n  education, we must conceive of ethics in a broad way. At some periods\n  in the history of the world, the development of purely individual, or\n  subjective, character would have been thought a worthy and adequate\n  conception of the final purpose of education. Other-worldliness was\n  the ruling ideal. At present, however, we regard that man as most\n  fit for the world to come who best performs all his functions in the\n  world that now is. Ethics must therefore be conceived to embrace an\n  estimation of the value of a man\u2019s conduct in every department of\n  life. Not only must it estimate the worth of pious feeling, but it\n  must embrace a consideration of every action in its relation to the\n  actor\u2019s social, economic, and political environment. A man having\n  a praiseworthy character must be a good citizen of state, nation,\n  and community; he must be public-spirited, law-abiding, given to\n  honest dealing. Every child should be trained to be a useful member\n  of civilization as it now exists. Piety alone is insufficient; it\n  must be accompanied by honesty, industry, patriotism, public spirit.\n  Non-social, or purely individualistic, conceptions of character as\n  the goal of education must give way to those social ideals through\n  which alone the highest welfare of both individual and community\n  are to be conserved. Without such conceptions an industrial state,\n  such as now exists, becomes a human jungle in which men enter upon\n  a fiercer struggle than do the beasts of the real jungle. Social\n  co\u00f6peration is essential when we wish to transform a struggle of\n  mutual destruction into one of mutual helpfulness.\n\n3. Philosophical systems, involving either fatalism or its opposite,\npure caprice of will, are logically shut out from pedagogics, because\nthe notion of plasticity, implying as it does a transition from the\nindeterminate to the determinate, cannot by such systems be brought in\nwithout inconsistency.\n\n  Common sense overcomes the logical difficulties of even the worst\n  systems. Herbart\u2019s remark has, therefore, no practical significance.\n  The philosophy of Spinoza might easily be described by an opponent\n  as \u201cfatalistic,\u201d since it leaves no room for special providences in\n  the physical universe; yet Professor Paulsen, who holds substantially\n  to Spinoza\u2019s view, is one of the most eminent promoters of the\n  theory of education in the university of Berlin. Herbart thought\n  Kant\u2019s doctrine of transcendental will one of absolute volitional\n  caprice, yet the followers of Kant have been among the most energetic\n  promoters of mental and moral training. Herbart thinks he sees in\n  this remark a chance to put his philosophical opponents out of court,\n  to the benefit of his own system. If one philosopher develops a\n  system of \u201cfatalism\u201d and another one of \u201cabsolute free will,\u201d the one\n  may be charged with making education impossible and the other with\n  making it futile. In either case, since we know that education is\n  neither impossible nor futile, the presumption is that both systems\n  are defective. This paragraph and others like it are mere indirect\n  methods of defending Herbart\u2019s system of philosophy: they have no\n  real significance for the theory of education itself.\n\n4. On the other hand, the assumption of unlimited plasticity is\nequally inadmissible; it is for psychology to guard against this\nerror. The educability of the child is, to begin with, limited by his\nindividuality. Then, too, the possibility of determining and moulding\nhim at will through education is lessened by time and circumstances.\nLastly, the established character of the adult develops by an inner\nprocess which in time passes beyond the reach of the educator.\n\n5. Education seems thus to find a barrier, first, in the order of\nnature, and later in the pupil\u2019s own will. The difficulty is indeed\na real one, if the limitations of education are overlooked: hence\nan apparent confirmation of fatalism as well as of the doctrine of\nabsolute free will.\n\n  Modern scientific evolutionary study of anthropology and history\n  tends to confirm the hasty thinker in the idea that the circumstances\n  of the environment completely determine the character and destiny\n  of men, since their debt to the moulding influences of society and\n  physical surroundings becomes more and more apparent; yet however\n  powerful the environment may prove to be in fixing the direction of\n  mental growth in the race, it cannot rightly be conceived as creating\n  the growing forces. All the sunshine and warmth in the world will\n  not cause a pebble to sprout; so no external influences whatever\n  can develop mind where there is none to develop. The exigencies\n  of Herbart\u2019s metaphysics drove him into a crusade against Kant\u2019s\n  doctrine of innate freedom, or transcendental will; all the freedom\n  that Herbart would admit was that psychological freedom which is\n  acquired through instruction and training. The quarrel belongs to\n  eighteenth-century metaphysics, not to modern psychology, nor to\n  education; for however potentially free an infant may be, nobody\n  thinks of making it responsible, except so far as growing experience\n  gives it insight and volitional strength.\n\n    =Note.=--Many thinkers fluctuate constantly between these two\n    erroneous extremes. When looking historically at mankind as\n    a whole, they arrive at fatalism, as does Gumplowicz in his\n    \u201cOutlines of Sociology.\u201d Teacher and pupil alike seem to them to\n    be in the current of a mighty stream, not swimming,--that is,\n    self-active,--which would be the correct view, but carried along\n    without wills of their own. They arrive, on the other hand, at the\n    idea of a perfectly free will, when they contemplate the individual\n    and see him resist external influences, the aims of the teacher\n    very often included. Here they fail to comprehend the nature of\n    will, and sacrifice the concept of natural law for that of will.\n    Young teachers can hardly avoid sharing this uncertainty, favored\n    as it is by the philosophies of the day; much is gained, however,\n    when they are able to observe fluctuations of their own views\n    without falling into either extreme.\n\n6. The power of education must be neither over- nor under-estimated.\nThe educator should, indeed, try to see how much may be done; but\nhe must always expect that the outcome will warn him to confine his\nattempts within reasonable bounds. In order not to neglect anything\nessential, he needs to keep in view the practical bearings of the\nwhole theory of ideas; in order to understand and interpret correctly\nthe data furnished by observation of the child, the teacher must make\nconstant use of psychology.\n\n7. In scientific study concepts are separated which in practice must\nalways be kept united. The work of education is continuous. With an\neye to every consideration at once, the educator must always endeavor\nto connect what is to come with what has gone before. Hence a mode of\ntreatment which, following the several periods of school life, simply\nenumerates the things to be done in sequence, is inadequate in a work\non pedagogics. In an appendix this method will serve to facilitate\na bird\u2019s-eye view; the discussion of general principles, arranged\naccording to fundamental ideas, must needs precede. But our very first\ntask will necessarily consist in dealing, at least briefly, with the\nethical and the psychological basis of pedagogics.\n\n\n\n\nPART I\n\n_THE DOUBLE BASIS OF PEDAGOGICS_\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\n=The Ethical Basis=\n\n\n8. The term _virtue_ expresses the whole purpose of education. Virtue\nis the idea of inner freedom which has developed into an abiding\nactuality in an individual. Whence, as inner freedom is a relation\nbetween insight and volition, a double task is at once set before the\nteacher. It becomes his business to make actual each of these factors\nseparately, in order that later a permanent relationship may result.\n\n  Insight is conceived as the perception of what is right or wrong.\n  This perception is founded on the spontaneous, or intuitive, feeling\n  that arises in the mind when certain elementary will-relations are\n  presented to the intelligence. The unperverted mind has a natural\n  antipathy to strife, malevolence, injustice, selfishness; it has a\n  corresponding approval of harmony, good-will, justice, benevolence.\n  These feelings arise, naturally, only when the appropriate ideas are\n  present. Insight, therefore, is a state of feeling or disposition\n  arising from knowledge, or ideas.\n\n  When volition has come into permanent accord with educated insight,\n  virtue has been attained. Conscience approves every virtuous\n  act; it disapproves every deviation from virtue. Inner freedom,\n  therefore, is marked by approving conscience; lack of it, by accusing\n  conscience. The development of virtuous character is not so easy,\n  however, as might appear from these simple statements, for virtue\n  has a shifting, not to say a developing character. Elementary as the\n  fundamental ethical ideas may be when presented in the home or in\n  the kindergarten, they are not elementary when met with in modern\n  civilization. At times virtue has been of a military character, as\n  in Sparta and Rome; at other times it has been ecclesiastical, as in\n  the Middle Ages. At the present time, in addition to all that it has\n  ever been from a purely Christian character, it is civil, social,\n  industrial. Virtue in a modern city has a content quite different\n  from that in a pioneer mining camp. Furthermore, virtue is uneven in\n  its development. The race has, for instance, been trained long and\n  hard to respect unprotected property, so that we may fairly say such\n  respect has become instinctive; yet when unprotected property comes\n  into new relations to the individual, as in the case of borrowed\n  books, we may find only a rudimentary conscience. What scholar is not\n  a sufferer from this form of unripe virtue?\n\n9. But even here at the outset we need to bear in mind the identity of\nmorality with the effort put forth to realize the permanent actuality\nof the harmony between insight and volition. To induce the pupil to\nmake this effort is a difficult achievement; at all events, it becomes\npossible only when the twofold training mentioned above is well\nunder way. It is easy enough, by a study of the example of others,\nto cultivate theoretical acumen; the moral application to the pupil\nhimself, however, can be made, with hope of success, only in so far as\nhis inclinations and habits have taken a direction in keeping with his\ninsight. If such is not the case, there is danger lest the pupil, after\nall, knowingly subordinate his correct theoretical judgment to mere\nprudence. It is thus that evil in the strict sense originates.\n\n  It is helpful to give the pupil abundant opportunity to pass judgment\n  upon the moral quality of actions not his own. The best opportunities\n  are at first the most impersonal ones, for where the child himself is\n  immediately concerned, the quality of his judgment may be impaired\n  by intense personal feelings, such as fear of blame or punishment.\n  Literature furnishes the earliest and most copious examples; later,\n  history may be helpful, though there is great danger of taking\n  partial or mistaken views as to the moral quality of historical\n  deeds. A selection of literature is an artistic whole. All the\n  relations can be easily perceived, but any given historical event is\n  likely to be a small section of a whole too vast for the youthful\n  mind to comprehend. It is for this reason that caution is needed when\n  passing judgment upon historical facts.\n\n  To encourage the child to pass judgment in these impersonal cases\n  is to sharpen his natural perceptions of right and wrong, and\n  to influence his disposition favorably. One who has been led\n  to condemn cruelty to animals in this way is likely to be more\n  thoughtful himself, and less disposed wantonly to inflict pain. But\n  every resource of authority and persuasion, as well as appeal to\n  sensibility and conscience, must be employed to make virtuous action\n  habitual, and to prevent the generation of evil.\n\n10. Of the remaining practical or ethical concepts, the idea of\nperfection points to health of body and mind; it implies a high regard\nfor both, and their systematic cultivation.\n\n  Perfection here means _completeness of efficiency_, rather than\n  acquisition of holiness. An efficient will is strong, vigorous,\n  decided; it is self-consistent in the pursuit of leading purposes,\n  not vacillating or incoherent. Still, the idea of moral perfection is\n  not a remote one, for, in order to be thoroughly efficient, a will\n  must be in substantial accord with the ethical order of a rational\n  society. All its deviations from established law and custom will be\n  for their improvement, not for the destruction of what is good in\n  them.\n\n11. The idea of good-will counsels the educator to ward off temptation\nto ill-will as long as such temptation might prove dangerous. It is\nessential, on the other hand, to imbue the pupil with a feeling of\nrespect for good-will.\n\n  Good-will is one of the three concrete virtues lying at the basis of\n  social order. It is both _passive_, as in _laissez faire_ attitudes\n  of mind, and _active_ as in thoroughgoing civic, business, and social\n  co\u00f6peration. School training must seek to impress the mind with\n  respect for the active rather than the passive type of good-will.\n  So, too, must it ward off the dangers both of passive and active\n  ill-will, as manifested, in covetousness, malice, malevolence, envy,\n  treachery, stinginess, cruelty, hard-heartedness. How these ends may\n  be attained, will be considered later.\n\n12. The idea of justice demands that the pupil abstain from\ncontention. It demands, furthermore, reflection on strife, so that\nrespect for justice may strike deep root.\n\n  No idea appeals more strongly to the unperverted youthful mind than\n  that of justice or fair play; even the gentlest natures become\n  indignant at manifestations of injustice. The basis of the idea is,\n  in the thought of our author, our natural displeasure in contention\n  over that which, in the nature of the case, only one person can\n  have. Primarily, it concerns property rights, but secondarily it may\n  extend to other relations in which two or more wills are at issue.\n  Justice in the acquisition, possession, and disposition of wealth is\n  the theme of the greater part of every judicial system. The idea of\n  justice is the second of the three concrete moral virtues necessary\n  for civilized society.\n\n13. The idea of equity is especially involved in cases where the pupil\nhas merited punishment as requital for the intentional infliction of\npain. Here the degree of punishment must be carefully ascertained and\nacknowledged as just.\n\n    =Note.=--This kind of punishment should not be confounded with\n    educative punishment--so called, _i.e._, punishment through natural\n    consequences.\n\n  The third concrete moral idea is that of _equity_, or _requital_. It\n  arises when existing will-relations are altered either for good or\n  bad. The natural demand is that the requital shall be adequate to the\n  deed. Lack of requital for good deeds we call ingratitude, one of the\n  most hateful of human failings. In savagery and barbarism private\n  vengeance is the normal method of requiting injuries. Remnants of\n  this system still exist in the duel, and in the fierce vendettas of\n  some sparsely settled regions. Civilization demands that requital\n  for evil deeds shall be remanded to the executors of established\n  law. Only in this way is society saved from destructive broils. In\n  this respect, as in so many others, the school is the miniature of\n  the institutional world. The teacher is, to a considerable extent,\n  lawgiver, judge, and executive. Not a small part of his moral\n  influence upon his pupils depends upon the justice of his requitals\n  for violated law. Good-will, justice or rights, and requital are the\n  three fundamental concrete moral ideas upon which sound character,\n  both individual and national, is based. The remaining two are that\n  of inner freedom and that of efficiency. Though formal in character,\n  _i.e._, devoid of positive content, they are equally important with\n  the more concrete conceptions.\n\n14. Where a number of pupils are assembled there arises, naturally,\non a small scale, a system of laws and rewards. This system, and the\ndemands which in the world at large spring from the same ideas, must be\nbrought into accord.\n\n  The school is a miniature world, to be regulated by the same system\n  of moral ideas as that which obtains in society. Compare 182, 310.\n\n15. The concept of an administrative system has great significance for\npedagogics, since every pupil, whatever his rank or social status,\nmust be trained for co\u00f6peration in the social whole to fit him for\nusefulness. This requirement may assume very many different forms.\n\n16. Of the system of civilization only the aspect of general culture,\nnot that of special training, must be emphasized at this point.\n\n    =Note.=--The principles of practical philosophy which have just\n    been briefly indicated are at the same time the starting-points of\n    ethical insight for the pupils. If the resolve to direct the will\n    accordingly be added, and if the pupil obeys this resolve, such\n    obedience constitutes morality. Quite distinct from this is the\n    obedience yielded, be the motive fear or affection, to the person\n    of the teacher, so long as that higher obedience is not securely\n    established.\n\n17. For the business of education, the idea of perfection, while it\ndoes not rise into excessive prominence, stands out above all others\non account of its uninterrupted application. The teacher discovers in\nthe as yet undeveloped human being a force which requires his incessant\nattention to intensify, to direct, and to concentrate.\n\n    =Note.=--The maxim _perfice te_ is neither so universal as Wolff\n    asserted, as though it were the sole fundamental principle\n    of ethics, nor so objectionable as Kant represents it to be.\n    Perfection, quantitatively regarded (_Vollkommenheit_--the state of\n    having _come_ to _fulness_), is the first urgent task wherever man\n    shows himself lower, smaller, weaker, more narrowly limited, than\n    he might be. Growth, in every sense of the word, is the natural\n    destiny of the child, and the primary condition of whatever else of\n    worth may be expected of him in later life. The principle _perfice\n    te_ was deprived of its true meaning by the attempt to define by\n    it the whole of virtue--a blunder, since no single practical idea\n    ever exhausts the contents of that term. Quite different is the\n    import of the next remark, which applies solely to the practice of\n    pedagogy.\n\n18. The constant presence of the idea of perfection easily introduces\na false feature into moral education in the strict sense. The pupil\nmay get an erroneous impression as to the relative importance of the\nlessons, practice, and performance demanded of him, and so be betrayed\ninto the belief that he is essentially perfect when these demands are\nsatisfied.\n\n19. For this reason alone, if others were wanting, it is necessary to\ncombine moral education proper, which in everyday life lays stress\ncontinually on correct self-determination, with religious training.\nThe notion that something really worthy has been achieved needs to be\ntempered by humility. Conversely, religious education has need of the\nmoral also to forestall cant and hypocrisy, which are only too apt to\nappear where morality has not already secured a firm foothold through\nearnest self-questioning and self-criticism with a view to improvement.\nFinally, inasmuch as moral training must be put off until after insight\nand right habits have been acquired, religious education, too, should\nnot be begun too early; nor should it be needlessly delayed.\n\n  It is well known what obstacles confront the American teacher who\n  desires to give a religious basis to moral character. For a full\n  discussion of the subject viewed from numerous standpoints, the\n  reader is referred to \u201cPrinciples of Religious Education,\u201d Longmans,\n  Green & Co., New York, 1900. This book is a series of lectures by\n  prominent school men and others.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\n=The Psychological Basis=\n\n\n20. It is an error, indeed, to look upon the human soul as an aggregate\nof all sorts of faculties; but this error only becomes worse when, as\nis usually done, the statement is added that faculties are after all\nat bottom one and the same active principle. The traditional terms\nshould rather be employed to distinguish mental phenomena that present\nthemselves to experience as successively predominant. In this way we\nget the leading features of soul-life, which reminds us sufficiently of\npsychology for our immediate purpose.\n\n21. The stage of predominant sense-activity is followed by that of\nmemory in the sense of exact reproduction of series of percepts\npreviously formed. Traces of higher activities are as yet absent. The\nonly thing to be noted is that the series, unless rendered long by\nfrequent repetition, are generally short; necessarily so, since while\nforming they are exposed to continual disturbances caused by great\nsensitiveness to new impressions.\n\n22. Even very young children betray at play and in speech that form of\nself-activity ascribed to imagination.\n\nThe most insignificant toys, provided they are movable, occasion\nchanges and combinations of percepts, attended even with strong\nemotion, that astonish the mature observer, and perhaps excite anxiety\nlest some of these motley fancies should become fixed ideas. No evil\nafter effects are to be feared, however, so long as the emotional\nexcitement does not threaten health, and passes over quickly. A strong\nplay impulse is, on the contrary, a promising sign, especially when it\nmanifests itself energetically, though late, in weak children.\n\n23. Soon there follows a time when the observation of external objects\nprompts the child to ask innumerable questions. Here that activity\nwhich is called power of judgment begins to stir in conjunction\nwith reasoning. The child now strives to subsume what is new under\nconceptions already in his mind, and to affix their symbols, the\nfamiliar words. He is still far, withal, from being able to follow an\nabstract train of thought, to employ periodic sentences, and to conduct\nhimself rationally throughout. The slightest occasions will prove him\na child still.\n\n24. In the meantime, the child manifests, besides the physical feelings\nof pleasure and pain, affection for one person and aversion to another;\nfurthermore, a seemingly strong will, together with a violent spirit\nof contradiction, unless this is suppressed in time.\n\n25. On the other hand, the ethical judgment as a rule shows itself at\nfirst very seldom and transiently--a foreshadowing of the difficulty\nof securing for it later, in spite of obstinacy and selfishness, the\nfunction of control, on which control depend both morality and the\nhigher sense of art.\n\n26. The boy asks fewer questions, but tries all the more to handle\nand shape things. He is gaining knowledge by himself and acquiring\ndexterity. Gradually his respect for his elders increases; he fears\ntheir censure and stands in awe of their superiority. At the same time\nhe attaches himself more closely to other boys of the same age. From\nnow on it becomes more difficult to observe him. The teacher who has no\nprevious knowledge of boys who have reached this age, may long deceive\nhimself in regard to them and will seldom obtain complete frankness.\n\nThis reserve is indicative of more or less self-determination, which is\ncommonly attributed to pure reason.\n\n27. The names for the mental faculties acquire renewed importance with\nthe beginning of systematic instruction. Their import, however, shows a\nmarked difference. Now memory is relied on for the acquisition, without\nadditions or omissions, of prescribed series, the order being fixed\nor not, as the case may be; usually there is a slight connection with\nolder ideas. Imagination is called for to lay hold of the objects\nof distant lands and ages. The understanding is expected to derive\ngeneral notions from a limited number of particulars, to name and to\nconnect them. The development of the ethical judgment teachers rarely\nwait for; obedience to commands is demanded. Obedience of this kind\ndepends chiefly on the ease with which antecedent ideas are revived and\nconnected in response to, but not beyond, a given stimulus. In extreme\ncases the fear of punishment effectively takes the place of all other\nmotives. But often not even the usual memory-work can be successfully\nexacted through fear, much less obedience without oversight.\n\n28. Many pupils reveal a curious contrast. In their own sphere they\ndisplay a good memory, a lively imagination, keen understanding; by the\nteacher they are credited with little of all these. They rule perhaps\nover their playmates because of their superior intelligence, or possess\nat least the respect of the latter, while in their classes they show\nonly incapacity. Such experiences suggest the difficulty of making\ninstruction take proper hold of the inner growth of the pupil. It is\nevident, at the same time, that what is customarily ascribed to the\naction of the various mental faculties takes place in certain groups of\nideas.\n\n29. The grown man has one group of ideas for his church, another for\nhis work at home, a third for society, and so on. These groups, though\npartially interacting and mutually determinant, are far from being\nconnected at every point. This is true as early as boyhood. The boy\nhas one set of ideas for his school, another for the family circle,\nstill another for the playground, etc. This fact explains better than\nintentional reserve the observation that a boy is one being at home or\nat school and quite another among strangers.\n\n30. Each body of ideas is made up of complications of ideas, which, if\nthe union is perfect, come and go in consciousness as undivided wholes,\nand of series, together with their interlacings, whose members unfold\nsuccessively, one by one, provided they are not checked. The closer the\nunion of parts within these complications and series, the more absolute\nthe laws according to which ideas act in consciousness, the stronger\nis the resistance against everything opposing their movement; hence\nthe difficulty of acting upon them through instruction. They admit,\nhowever, of additions and recombinations, and so may in the course of\ntime undergo essential changes; up to a certain point they even change\nof themselves if repeatedly called into consciousness by dissimilar\noccasions, _e.g._, by the frequent delivery of the same lecture before\ndifferent audiences.\n\nThe general notions of things are complexes or complications of their\nattributes. Other examples of complexes important to instruction are\nfurnished by logical concepts and words. But since words of several\nlanguages may be perfectly complicated or bound together with the\nsame concept, without being just as intimately connected with one\nanother, it should be noted that when the object or concept comes up at\ndifferent times, it will be joined now with this and next with another\nlanguage. Yet the repeated perception of the object is not quite the\nsame perception as before, although earlier ideas mostly coalesce so\nfully with later homogeneous ideas that the difference makes itself\nfelt but little.\n\n31. The inner structure of groups of ideas becomes discernible in a\nmeasure when thoughts are bodied forth in speech. Its most general\naspect is disclosed in the construction of a period. Conjunctions\nparticularly are important in that they, without denoting a content\nof their own, serve as hints to the listener. They point out to him\nthe connection, the antitheses, the positiveness, or the uncertainty\nof the speaker\u2019s utterances; for the meanings of conjunctions can be\ntraced back to the series-form, to negation and certitude. It should\nbe noted that want and refusal are related to negation; expectation,\ntogether with hope and fear, to uncertainty, so that the consideration\nof thought masses must also include emotional states. Children possess\nthe structure of thought just as they experience the emotional states,\nlong before they know how to embody the same in words with the help\nof conjunctions. Certain conjunctions, such as, to be sure, although,\non the contrary, either--or, neither--nor, etc., are not adopted by\nchildren until late.\n\n32. Of equal importance with the inner organization of the pupil\u2019s\nideas are, for the teacher, the degree of ease or difficulty with which\na given mass of ideas is called into consciousness, and its relatively\nlong or brief persistence in consciousness. Here we are face to face\nwith the conditions of efficient instruction and training. The most\nnecessary statements relative to this subject will be made under the\nhead of interest and character-building.\n\n33. The capacity for education, therefore, is determined not by the\nrelationship in which various originally distinct mental faculties\nstand to one another, but by the relations of ideas already acquired to\none another, and to the physical organism. Every pupil must be studied\nwith reference to both.\n\n    =Note.=--In the minds of those whose early training has been in\n    the hands of several persons, whose early life has, perhaps, even\n    been spent in different households or has been tossed about by\n    changes of fortune, there are usually formed thought masses that\n    are heterogeneous and poorly correlated. Nor is it easy to win the\n    single-hearted devotion of such boys. They cherish secret wishes,\n    they feel contrasts, the nature of which it is difficult to get at,\n    and soon strike out in directions which education can frequently\n    not encourage. Far more susceptible of educative influences are\n    pupils that have been, for a long time, under the guidance of only\n    one person,--of the mother especially,--who has had their full\n    confidence. It now remains to base their further training on what\n    already exists and to refrain from demanding sudden leaps.\n\n34. Now, in order to gain an adequate knowledge of each pupil\u2019s\ncapacity for education, observation is necessary--observation both of\nhis thought masses and of his physical nature. The study of the latter\nincludes that of temperament, especially with reference to emotional\nsusceptibility. With some, fear is the first natural impulse, with\nothers, anger; some laugh and cry easily, others do not. In some cases\na very slight stimulus suffices to excite the vascular system. We need\nto note furthermore:--\n\n(1) The games of pupils. Do they in a thoroughly childlike manner still\nplay with any object that comes to hand? Do they intentionally change\ntheir games to suit a varying preference? Can distinct objects of\npersistent desire be discovered?\n\n(2) Their mental capacity and processes as shown in their studies. Is\nthe pupil able to grasp long or only short series? Does he make many or\nfew slips in the recitation? Do his lessons find a spontaneous echo in\nhis play?\n\n(3) Their depth and consistency. Are their utterances superficial, or\ndo they come from the depths of the soul? A comparative study of words\nand actions will gradually answer this question.\n\nSuch observations will take account also of the rhythm of the pupil\u2019s\nmental life as well as of the character of his store of thoughts. The\ninsight thus obtained determines the matter and method of instruction.\n\n  The reader will not fail to notice that much of modern child study\n  is anticipated in the foregoing paragraphs. Further important\n  contributions to the same subject are made in paragraphs 294\u2013329.\n\n35. Instruction in the sense of mere information-giving contains no\nguarantee whatever that it will materially counteract faults and\ninfluence existing groups of ideas that are independent of the imparted\ninformation. But it is these ideas that education must reach; for the\nkind and extent of assistance that instruction may render to conduct\ndepend upon the hold it has upon them.\n\nFacts, at least, must serve as material for methodical treatment,\notherwise they do not enlarge even the scope of mental activity. They\nrise in value when they become instinct with life and acquire mobility\nso as to enrich the imagination. But their ethical effect always\nremains questionable so long as they do not help to correct or modify\nthe ethical judgment, or desire and action, or both.\n\nThis point calls for a few additional distinctions. Generally speaking,\nrudeness decreases in proportion to the expansion of the mental horizon\nby instruction. The mere diffusion of desires over the enlarged\nthought area causes them to lose something of their one-sided energy.\nMoreover, if instruction presents ethical subjects of some kind in\na comprehensible way, the pupil\u2019s disposition undergoes a refining\nprocess so that it at least approximates a correct estimate of the\nwill, that is, the creation of ethical ideas.\n\nSuch favorable results are, however, apt to be outweighed by the harm\ndone when mere knowledge becomes the chief aim of ambition.\n\n36. In order that instruction may act on the pupil\u2019s ideas and\ndisposition, every avenue of approach should be thrown open. The mere\nfact that we can never know with certainty, beforehand, what will\ninfluence the pupil most, warns us against one-sidedness of instruction.\n\nIdeas spring from two main sources,--experience and social intercourse.\nKnowledge of nature--incomplete and crude--is derived from the former;\nthe later furnishes the sentiments entertained toward our fellow-men,\nwhich, far from being praiseworthy, are on the contrary often very\nreprehensible. To improve these is the more urgent task; but neither\nought we to neglect the knowledge of nature. If we do, we may expect\nerror, fantastical notions, and eccentricities of every description.\n\n37. Hence, we have two main branches of instruction,--the historical\nand the scientific. The former embraces not only history proper, but\nlanguage study as well; the latter includes, besides natural science,\nmathematics.\n\n  \u201cHistorical\u201d must be interpreted to include all human sciences,\n  such as history, literature, languages, \u00e6sthetics, and political,\n  economic, and social science. \u201cScientific\u201d may include applied\n  as well as pure science, and then we add all forms of industrial\n  training to the curriculum. Other divisions of the subject-matter\n  of instruction are often helpful. Thus one may speak of the human\n  sciences, the natural sciences, and the economic sciences. The\n  economic sciences include those activities where man and nature\n  interact. Dr. Wm. T. Harris speaks of five co\u00f6rdinate groups of\n  subjects, corresponding to what he calls the \u201cfive windows of the\n  soul.\u201d\n\n38. Other reasons aside, the need alone of counteracting selfishness\nrenders it necessary for every school that undertakes the education of\nthe whole man to place human conditions and relations in the foreground\nof instruction. This humanistic aim should underlie the studies of the\nhistorical subjects, and only with reference to this aim may they be\nallowed to preponderate.\n\n  An interesting attempt to realize the aim here demanded is found in\n  Professor John Dewey\u2019s \u201cSchool and Society,\u201d[1] which is in effect a\n  description of what he is working out in his practice or experimental\n  school in connection with his department in the University of Chicago.\n\n  \u201cIf the aim of historical instruction is to enable the child to\n  appreciate the values of social life, to see in imagination the\n  forces which favor and let men\u2019s effective co\u00f6perations with one\n  another, to understand the sorts of character that help on and that\n  hold back, the essential thing in its presentation is to make it\n  moving, dynamic. History must be presented not as an accumulation\n  of results or effects, a mere statement of what has happened, but\n  as a forceful, acting thing. The motives, that is, the motors, must\n  stand out. To study history is not to amass information, but to use\n  information in constructing a vivid picture of how and why men did\n  thus and so: achieved their successes and came to their failures.\u201d[2]\n\n    =Note.=--This view does not shut out the other held in regard to\n    Gymnasia, namely, that their business is to preserve and perpetuate\n    a knowledge of classical antiquity; the latter aim must be made\n    congruent with the former.\n\n[1] Dewey, \u201cThe School and Society,\u201d University of Chicago Press, 1899.\n\n[2] Dewey, \u201cThe Aim of History in Elementary Education,\u201d Elementary\nSchool Record, No. 8, University of Chicago Press, 1900.\n\n39. Mathematical studies, from elementary arithmetic to higher\nmathematics, are to be linked to the pupil\u2019s knowledge of nature,\nand so to his experience, in order to gain admission into his sphere\nof thought. Instruction in mathematics, however thorough, fails\npedagogically when the ideas generated form an isolated group. They are\nusually soon forgotten, or, if retained, contribute but little toward\npersonal worth.\n\n  It may be added that the leading practical motive in the teaching of\n  arithmetic has been economic, the cost of things forming the chief\n  reliance for problems. Only those parts of nature study that involve\n  important quantitative relations are fitted for correlation with\n  mathematics. Biology, for instance, which is _qualitative_, since it\n  deals with life, is a poor support for mathematics; but physics is a\n  good one.\n\n40. In general, it will always remain a matter of uncertainty whether\nand how instruction will be received and mentally elaborated. To\ndiminish this uncertainty, if for no other reasons, there is need of\nconstant endeavor to put the pupil in a frame of mind suitable for\ninstruction. This task falls within the province of training.\n\n41. But even apart from reference to instruction, training must seek\nto ward off violent desires and to prevent the injurious outbursts of\nemotion. We may grant that after the days of school life are over,\nindividual traits will always break forth again in this respect; but\nexperiences, too, follow, and in connection with these the after-effect\nof education comes to light in proportion as education has been more\nor less successful. It shows itself in the nature and the amount\nof self-knowledge through which the adult strives to restrain his\nnative faults. Seeming exceptions are in most cases accounted for by\nimpressions produced in very early youth and long concealed.\n\nAs soon as a person attains freedom of action, he usually endeavors\nto achieve the life which in his earlier years seemed most desirable.\nHence training and instruction have each to be directed against the\nspringing up of illusive longings and toward a true picture of the\nblessings and burdens of various social classes and professions.\n\nWhat modifications of individuality training may accomplish, is brought\nabout less by restrictions, which cannot be permanent, than by inducing\nan early development of the higher impulses whereby they attain\npredominance.\n\n42. The larger portion of the restrictions necessary during the\nperiod of education falls under another head, that of government. The\nquestion of completeness of education aside, children no less than\nadults need to experience the constraint imposed on every one by human\nsociety: they, too, must be kept within bounds. This function the\nstate delegates to the family, to guardians, and to the schools. Now\nthe purpose of government refers to present order; that of training to\nthe future character of the adult. The underlying points of view are\naccordingly so different that a distinction must necessarily be made in\na system of pedagogics between training and government.\n\n43. In matters of government, too, much depends on how keenly its\ndisciplinary measures are felt. Only good training can insure the right\nkind of sensibility. A gentle rebuke may prove more effective than\nblows. The first thing to do, of course, when unruly children create\ndisorder, is to govern, to restore order; but government and training\nshould, if possible, go together. The distinction between these two\nconcepts serves to aid the reflection of the teacher, who ought to know\nwhat he is about, rather than to suggest a perceptible separation in\npractice.\n\n44. In the following pages, general pedagogics, which is followed\nnecessarily by observations of a more special nature, will be\ndiscussed under the three main heads,--government, instruction,\ntraining. What needs to be said concerning government as the primary\ncondition of education will be disposed of first. Next comes the theory\nof instruction and didactics. The last place is reserved for training;\nfor an enduring effect could not be expected from it, if it were\nsevered from instruction. For this reason the teacher must always keep\nthe latter in view when he fixes his attention on methods of training,\nwhich in actual practice always work hand in hand with instruction. The\nother customary form of treatment, that according to age, while not\nadapted to the exposition of principles, finds its proper place in the\nchapter leading over to the discussion of special topics.\n\n\n\n\nPART II\n\n_OUTLINES OF GENERAL PEDAGOGICS_\n\n\n\n\nSECTION I\n\nGOVERNMENT OF CHILDREN\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\n=Theoretical Aspects=\n\n\n45. We assume at the outset the existence of all the care and nurture\nrequisite for physical growth and well-being; a bringing up that shall\nbe as free from pampering as from dangerous hardening. There must be\nno actual want to lead a child astray, nor undue indulgence to create\nunnecessary demands. How much hardening it is safe to risk will depend\nin each case on the child\u2019s constitution.\n\n46. The foundation of government consists in keeping children employed.\nNo account is taken as yet of the prospective gain to mental culture;\nthe time is to be fully occupied, at all events, even if the immediate\npurpose be merely the avoidance of disorder. This purpose, however,\ninvolves the requirement of ample provision, according to the ages of\npupils, for the need of physical activity, that the cause of natural\nrestlessness may be removed. This need is more urgent with some\nthan with others; there are children that seem ungovernable because\ncompelled to sit still.\n\n47. Other things being equal, self-chosen occupations deserve the\npreference; but it rarely happens that children know how to keep\nthemselves busy sufficiently and continuously. Specific tasks, not to\nbe abandoned until completed, assure order much better than random\nplaying, which is apt to end in ennui. It is desirable that adults\npossessing the requisite patience assist children, if not always, at\nleast frequently, in their games; that they explain pictures, tell\nstories, have them retold, etc. With advancing maturity, a steadily\nincreasing proportion of the occupations assumes the character of\ninstruction or of exercises growing out of it; this work should be\nproperly balanced by recreations.\n\n48. Next in order comes supervision, and with it numerous commands and\nprohibitions. Under this head several things must be considered.\n\nIn the first place this: Whether under certain circumstances one might\nwithdraw a command or permit what has once been forbidden. It is\nill-advised to give an order more sweeping than the execution is meant\nto be; and it weakens government to yield to the entreaties, the tears,\nor, worse still, the impetuous insistence of children.\n\nAlso this question: Whether it is possible to make sure of obedience.\nWhere children are not kept busy and are left without oversight, the\nissue becomes doubtful.\n\nThe difficulty grows at a rapid rate with an increase in numbers. This\nis true especially of larger educational institutions, but, on account\nof the coming and going of pupils, applies in a measure also to common\nday schools.\n\n49. The usual solution is greater strictness of supervision. But this\ninvolves the risk of utter failure to receive voluntary obedience, and\nof inciting a match game in shrewdness.\n\nAs to voluntary obedience, much depends on the ratio of restraint to\nthe freedom that still remains. Ordinarily, youth submits readily\nenough to many restrictions, provided such restrictions bear upon\nspecific fixed points, and leave elbow room for independent action.\n\nIn the work of supervision the teacher will find it hard to rely on\nhimself entirely, particularly if he has charge of classes only at\nstated times. Others must assist him; he himself will have to resort\noccasionally to surprises. Supervision is always an evil when coupled\nwith unnecessary distrust. It is essential, therefore, to make those\nwho do not merit distrust understand that the measures adopted are not\ndirected against them.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\n=Practical Aspects=\n\n\n50. Since supervision is not to be vigorous to the point of ever felt\npressure, child government, to be effective, requires both gentle\nand severe measures. In general, this effectiveness results from the\nnatural superiority of the adult, a fact of which teachers sometimes\nneed to be reminded. Whatever the plan of supervision, there must be\ncoupled with it an adequate mode of disciplinary procedure. A record\nshould be kept in schools, not for the law-abiding pupils, but for\nthose guilty of repeated acts of disobedience. These remarks do not\nthus far include any reference to marks and records pertaining to\neducation proper; they are confined to what is popularly, but loosely,\ncalled discipline, that is, the training of pupils to conform to the\nsystem of order that obtains in the school.\n\nHome training seldom requires such bookkeeping; but even here it may\nat times be useful. Of course, the individual child knows in any case\nthat some one is keeping an eye on his actions, but the fact becomes\nmore deeply impressed upon his memory if the reproofs incurred by him\nare recorded.\n\n51. It would be in vain to attempt to banish entirely the corporal\npunishments usually administered after fruitless reprimands; but use\nshould be made of them so sparingly that they be feared rather than\nactually inflicted.\n\nRecollection of the rod does not hurt a boy. Nor is there any harm in\nhis present conviction that a flogging is henceforth as much beyond\nthe range of possibility as his meriting such treatment. But it would,\nno doubt, be injurious to actually violate his self-respect by a blow,\nhowever little he might mind the physical pain. And pernicious in the\nhighest degree, although, nevertheless, not quite obsolete yet, is the\npractice of continuing to beat children already hardened to blows.\nBrutish insensibility is the consequence, and the hope is almost vain\nthat even a long period of now unavoidable indulgence will restore a\nnormal state of feeling.\n\nThere is less objection to making use, for a few hours, of hunger as\na corrective. Here only an act of deprivation takes place, not one\ninvolving a direct insult.\n\nCurtailment of freedom is the most commonly employed form of\npunishment; justly so, provided it be properly adjusted to the offence.\nMoreover, it admits of the most varied gradations from standing in a\ncorner to confinement in a dark room, perhaps even with hands tied\ntogether behind the back. Only, for several serious reasons, this\npunishment must not be of long duration. A whole hour is more than\nenough unless there is careful supervision. Besides, the place must be\nchosen judiciously.\n\n  Solitary confinement, especially in a dark room, is seldom if ever\n  resorted to in American public schools. For remarks upon the social\n  basis of modern school punishments, see 55.\n\n52. Corrections of such severity, as removal from home or expulsion\nfrom an institution, are to be administered only in extreme cases; for\nwhat is to become of the expelled pupil? A burden to another school?\nAnd in case the transfer implies the same freedom, the old disorderly\nconduct will usually be resumed. Such pupils must, therefore, be placed\nunder very strict supervision and given new occupations. We must trust\nto the new environment to obliterate gradually the old vitiated circle\nof thought.\n\n53. It is a well-known fact that authority and love are surer means\nof securing order than harsh measures are. But authority cannot be\ncreated by every one at will. It implies obvious superiority in mind,\nin knowledge, in physique, in external circumstances. Love can, indeed,\nbe gained in the course of time by a complaisant manner--the love of\nwell-disposed pupils; but just where government becomes most necessary,\ncomplaisance has to cease. Love must not be purchased at the expense\nof weak indulgence; it is of value only when united with the necessary\nseverity.\n\n54. In early childhood and with healthy children, government is, on\nthe whole, easy. It continues to be easy after they have once formed\nhabits of obedience. But it should not be interrupted. Even if children\nhave been left to themselves or in charge of strangers only a few days,\nthe change is noticeable. It requires an effort to tighten the reins\nagain--something not to be done too suddenly.\n\nWhere boys have been allowed to run wild, the attempt to bring them\nback to orderly conduct reveals the differences of individuality. Some\nare easily made to return to appropriate work by kindness combined with\na moderate measure of forbearance, others have sense enough to fear\nthreats and to avoid penalties; but we may unfortunately also expect to\nfind a few whose sole thought is to escape from supervision, however\nunpleasant for them the consequences may be.\n\nWhere home ties are wanting, this spirit may develop even during\nboyhood with ominous rapidity; during adolescence the difficulty of\nchecking it may grow to be insuperable.\n\n55. As a rule, it is reasonable to assume that youth will try to break\nthrough restraints as soon as these are felt. A sufficient amount of\nsatisfying activity, together with uniform firmness of the lines of\nrestraint, will, indeed, soon put an end to persistent attempts of\nthis kind; yet they will be repeated from time to time. As boys grow\nolder there is a change of pursuits; now the restraining boundaries\nmust gradually be enlarged. The question now is whether education has\nprogressed sufficiently far to make government less indispensable.\nMoreover, the choice of work comes to be determined by the prospects\nopening before the young man, according to his rank and means, together\nwith his native capabilities and acquired knowledge. To encourage\nsuch pursuits as being appropriate for him, and, on the other hand,\nto reduce mere hobbies and diversions to harmless proportions, still\nremains the function of government. In any case government should not\nbe wholly surrendered too early, least of all when the environment is\nsuch as to justify apprehension of temptation.\n\n  Though American teachers are perhaps not accustomed to emphasize the\n  distinction between government for order and training for character,\n  the difference, nevertheless, exists, often in an exaggerated form.\n  Just as fever is looked upon as the measure of functional disturbance\n  in the body, so disorder in the schoolroom is looked upon as the\n  measure of the teacher\u2019s failure. As fever is the universal symptom\n  of disease, so disorder is the index of failure. The diagnosis may\n  err in either case as to what the seat of the difficulty really is,\n  but that something is wrong is plain to all. The fact that the public\n  usually gauge a teacher\u2019s efficiency by the order he keeps has led\n  in the past to an exaggerated emphasis upon school discipline. The\n  means for securing good order have greatly changed since Herbart\u2019s\n  time. A growing sense of social solidarity in the community, together\n  with the all but universal employment of women as teachers in the\n  elementary grades, has transferred the basis of discipline from\n  the teacher to the community. It is social pressure in and out of\n  the school that is the main reliance for regularity, punctuality,\n  and order. Herbart wonders what will become of the bad boy if he is\n  expelled. The modern answer is, he will be sent to the reform school\n  or to the truant school. The teacher still stands as of old at the\n  point of contact between the institution and the individual; nor can\n  he entirely escape the heat generated at times by such contact, but,\n  after all, it is society that now supplies the pressure formerly\n  exerted by will and birch. The teacher is now more of a mediator\n  between the pupil and the organized community, than an avenger of\n  broken law.\n\n\n\n\nSECTION II\n\nINSTRUCTION\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\n=The Relation of Instruction to Government and Training=\n\n\n56. Instruction furnishes a part of those occupations which lie at the\nbasis of government; how large a part depends on circumstances.\n\nChildren must be kept employed at all events, because idleness leads to\nmisbehavior and lawlessness. Now if the employment consists of useful\nlabor, say in the workshop or on the farm, so much the better. Better\nstill, if the work teaches the child something that will contribute\nto his further education. But not all employment is instruction; and\nin cases where the mere government of children is a difficult matter,\nlessons are not always the most adequate employment. Many a growing boy\nwill be taught orderly conduct much sooner when placed with a mechanic\nor merchant or farmer than in school. The scope of government is wider\nthan that of instruction.\n\n  Teachers of manual training everywhere testify to the quieting effect\n  of directed physical labor upon stormy spirits. Even a truant school\n  or a school for incorrigibles becomes an attractive place to the\n  inmates when adequate provision is made for the exercise of the motor\n  powers. Most children can be controlled through mental occupation,\n  but there are some to whom motor activity is indispensable. That a\n  judicious apportionment of sensory and motor activity would favorably\n  affect the development of all children is not to be questioned.\n\n57. Instruction and training have this in common, that each makes for\neducation and hence for the future, while government provides for the\npresent. A distinction should, however, be made here. Instruction is\nfar from being always educative or pedagogical. Where acquisition of\nwealth and external success or strong personal preference supply the\nmotives for study, no heed is paid to the question: What will be the\ngain or loss to character? One actuated by such motives sets out, such\nas he is, to learn one thing or another, no matter whether for good or\nbad or for indifferent ends; to him the best teacher is he who imparts\n_tuto, cito, jucunde_, the proficiency desired. Instruction of this\nkind is excluded from our discussion; we are concerned here only with\ninstruction that educates in the moral sense of the term.\n\n58. Man\u2019s worth does not, it is true, lie in his knowing, but in his\nwilling. But there is no such thing as an independent faculty of\nwill. Volition has its roots in thought; not, indeed, in the details\none knows, but certainly in the combinations and total effect of\nthe acquired ideas. The same reason, therefore, which in psychology\naccounts for considering the formation of ideas first, and then desire\nand volition, necessitates a corresponding order in pedagogics: first\nthe theory of instruction, then that of training.\n\n    =Note.=--Formerly, strange to say, no distinction was made between\n    government and training, although it is obvious that the immediate\n    present demands attention more urgently than does the future.\n    Still less was instruction given its true place. The greater or\n    smaller amount of knowledge, regarded as a matter of secondary\n    importance in comparison with personal culture, was taken up last.\n    The treatment of education as the development of character preceded\n    that of instruction, just as though the former could be realized\n    without the latter. During the last decades, however, a demand\n    has arisen for greater activity on the part of schools, primarily\n    the higher schools. Humanistic studies are to bestow humanity, or\n    culture. It has come to be understood that the human being is more\n    easily approached from the side of knowledge than from the side of\n    moral sentiments and disposition. Furthermore, examinations might\n    be set on the former, but not on the latter. Now the time for\n    instruction was found to be too limited--a want that the old Latin\n    schools had felt but little. This led to discussions as to the\n    relative amount due each branch of study. We shall treat chiefly\n    of the correlation of studies, for whatever remains isolated is of\n    little significance.\n\n59. In educative teaching, the mental activity incited by it is all\nimportant. This activity instruction is to increase, not to lessen; to\nennoble, not to debase.\n\n    =Note.=--A diminution of mental activity ensues, when, because\n    of much study and of sitting--especially at all sorts of written\n    work, often useless--physical growth is interfered with in a way\n    sooner or later to the injury of health. Hence the encouragement\n    given in recent years to gymnastic exercises, which may, however,\n    become too violent. Deterioration sets in when knowledge is\n    made subservient to ostentation and external advantages--the\n    objectionable feature of many public examinations. Schools ought\n    not to be called upon to display all they accomplish. By such\n    methods instruction not only works against its own true end, but\n    also conflicts with training, whose aim for the whole future of the\n    pupil is--_mens sana in corpore sano_.\n\n60. If all mental activity were of only one kind, the subject-matter\nof instruction would be of no consequence. But we need not go beyond\nexperience to see that the opposite is true, that there is a great\ndiversity of intellectual endowment. Yet while instruction must thus be\ndifferentiated, it should not be made so special as to cultivate only\nthe more prominent gifts; otherwise the pupil\u2019s less vigorous mental\nfunctions would be wholly neglected and perhaps suppressed. Instruction\nmust rather be manifold, and its manifoldness being the same for many\npupils in so far as it may help to correct inequalities in mental\ntendencies.\n\n  Not only is subject-matter to be varied on account of mental\n  diversity, but also for social reasons as well. For an enlargement of\n  this theme, see the annotation to paragraph 65.\n\n61. What is to be taught and learned is, accordingly, not left for\ncaprice and conventionality to decide. In this respect instruction\ndiffers in a striking manner from government, for which, if only\nidleness is prevented, it hardly matters what work children are given\nto do.\n\n    =Note.=--Children are sent to school from many homes simply because\n    they are in the way and their parents do not wish them to be idle.\n    The school is regarded as an institution whose chief function is to\n    govern, but which incidentally also imparts useful knowledge. Here\n    there is a lack of insight into the nature of true mental culture;\n    teachers, on the contrary, sometimes forget that they are giving\n    pupils work, and that work should not exceed reasonable limits.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\n=The Aim of Instruction=\n\n\n62. The ultimate purpose of instruction is contained in the notion,\nvirtue. But in order to realize the final aim, another and nearer one\nmust be set up. We may term it, _many-sidedness of interest_. The\nword _interest_ stands in general for that kind of mental activity\nwhich it is the business of instruction to incite. Mere information\ndoes not suffice; for this we think of as a supply or store of facts,\nwhich a person might possess or lack, and still remain the same being.\nBut he who lays hold of his information and reaches out for more,\ntakes an interest in it. Since, however, this mental activity, is\nvaried (60), we need to add the further determination supplied by the\nterm _many-sidedness_.\n\n  It has been pointed out[3] what the content of the word _virtue_\n  must be, if this word is to be an adequate expression for the\n  ultimate purpose of instruction. Virtue must embrace not only what\n  is purely individual, or subjective, such as piety and humaneness\n  of disposition, but it must likewise include what is objective,\n  or social, in conduct. This fact lends a new significance to the\n  doctrine of interest, for though a normal child is not naturally\n  interested in introspective analysis of his feelings, he is\n  spontaneously interested in what is objective and within the range\n  of his experience. The enterprises of his mates, the regulations of\n  his school or home, the erection of houses, the introduction of new\n  machinery, the social doings of the neighborhood, the havoc created\n  by the elements, the prominent features of the changing year--all\n  these claim his closest attention. The common school studies deal\n  with these very things. Literature (reading) and history reveal\n  to him the conduct of men; the one considering it ideally, the\n  other historically. Mathematics teaches the mastery of material\n  when considered quantitatively, whether in trade or manufacture or\n  construction. Nature studies bring the child into intimate touch with\n  the significant in his natural environment. Geography shows him the\n  most obvious features of the industrial activity about him. It shows\n  him the chief conditions of production in crops and manufactures; it\n  also gives him hints of the great business of commerce. In all these\n  studies, the natural inclinations of the mind are directly appealed\n  to. Not a little of the importance of the doctrine of interest in\n  instruction depends upon these facts; for both the insight and the\n  disposition that instruction is capable of imparting to the pupil\n  relates specifically to the objective side of his character, the one\n  most in need of development and most susceptible of it.\n\n[3] Paragraphs 8\u201315.\n\n63. We may speak also of indirect as distinguished from direct\ninterest. But a predominance of indirect interest tends to\none-sidedness, if not to selfishness. The interest of the selfish\nman in anything extends only so far as he can see advantages\nor disadvantages to himself. In this respect the one-sided man\napproximates the selfish man, although the fact may escape his own\nobservation; since he relates everything to the narrow sphere for\nwhich he lives and thinks. Here lies his intellectual power, and\nwhatever does not interest him as means to his limited ends, becomes an\nimpediment.\n\n  It is important for the teacher to see the full scope of the doctrine\n  of interest in its relation to effort. In Herbart\u2019s psychology it\n  assumes a most important place, since the primacy of mental life is,\n  in this system, ascribed to _ideas_. In other systems, notably those\n  of Kant, Schopenhauer, Von Hartmann, Paulsen, primacy is ascribed to\n  the will, first in unconscious or subconscious striving, later in\n  conscious volition. This fundamental difference in standpoint will\n  account for the emphasis laid now upon _interest_, now upon _effort_.\n  Herbart conceives that conscious feelings, desires, motives, and the\n  like have their source in ideas, and that volition in turn arises\n  from the various emotional states aroused by the ideas. Interest\n  with him thus becomes a permanent or ever renewed, ever changing,\n  ever growing desire for the accomplishment of certain ends. It is,\n  consequently, a direct, necessary stimulus to the will. Systems,\n  however, that regard the will as the primary factor in mental life,\n  conceiving of ideas only as a means for revealing more clearly the\n  ends of volition, together with the best methods of reaching them,\n  are naturally prone to place the emphasis upon _effort_, leaving to\n  interest but a secondary or quite incidental function. Dr. John Dewey\n  has attempted to reconcile these two views.[4] Interest and effort\n  are complementary, not opposing ideas. To emphasize one at the\n  expense of the other, is to assume that the ends for which we act lie\n  quite outside of our personality, so that these ends would, on the\n  one hand, have to be _made_ interesting, or, on the other, struggled\n  for without regard to interest. This assumption is an error. The ends\n  for which we strive must be conceived as internal, our efforts being\n  regarded as attempts at self-realization in definite directions. The\n  purpose of our action is therefore an end desired. In this we have\n  an interest surely. As an educational doctrine, however, interest\n  concerns chiefly the means of reaching these ends. If interest in\n  the means is wanting, the child works with a _divided attention_. He\n  gives only so much to the means as he must; the remainder is devoted\n  to his own affairs,--the past or coming ball-game, the picnic, the\n  walk in the woods, the private enterprises of home or school. But if\n  a lively interest is felt in the means to the end, then the whole\n  self is actively employed for the time being in the accomplishment of\n  the purpose of the hour. The attention is no longer divided, it is\n  concentrated upon the matter in hand. This in the school is _work_.\n  When the attention is divided we have drudgery. This signifies that\n  the interest felt in the end, say a dollar, is not felt in the means\n  of attaining it, say a day\u2019s labor. However inevitable drudgery may\n  be in life, it should have no place in the schoolroom. The teacher\n  must so present the studies that the pupil can perceive at least a\n  fraction of their bearing upon life. This awakens an interest in them\n  as ends. He must, then, by conformity to the psychological order of\n  learning, by enthusiasm and ingenuity, so teach the subjects that\n  the natural interest in the end will be constantly enhanced through\n  a lively interest in the daily lesson as the means of reaching it.\n  The result is unified attention, zeal in the pursuit of knowledge,\n  hospitality for ethical ideals.\n\n[4] \u201cInterest as Related to the Will,\u201d second supplement to the Herbart\nYear Book, revised and reprinted, Chicago University Press, 1899.\n\n64. As regards the bearings of interest on virtue, we need to remember\nthat many-sidedness of interest alone, even of direct interest such as\ninstruction is to engender, is yet far from being identical with virtue\nitself; also that, conversely, the weaker the original mental activity,\nthe less likelihood that virtue will be realized at all, not to speak\nof the variety of manifestation possible in action. Imbeciles cannot be\nvirtuous. Virtue involves an awakening of mind.\n\n  The conception, that by awakening many-sided direct interest in the\n  studies we can powerfully affect character, is perhaps peculiar to\n  the thought of Herbart. Yet when we consider that the knowledge\n  taught in the school goes to the root of every vital human relation,\n  that, in other words, the studies may be made instruments for\n  progressively revealing to the child his place and function in the\n  world, it follows as a necessary consequence, that to interest the\n  pupil thoroughly in these branches of learning, is to work at the\n  foundation of his character, so far, at least, as insight into duty\n  and disposition to do it are concerned. Even if interest in ethical\n  things is not of itself virtue, it is an important means for securing\n  virtue. This idea adds to the teacher\u2019s resources for the development\n  of character. It also opens up to him a new realm for research. All\n  literature, history, science, mathematics, geography, language, may\n  be examined from this new standpoint, both with respect to selection\n  and to methods of presentation. Select the portions that pertain\n  intimately to life; teach them so that their important bearing upon\n  it may be seen.\n\n    =Note.=--As has been stated already (17), the most immediate of\n    the practical ideas demanding recognition from the teacher is the\n    idea of perfection. Now, with reference to this idea, three factors\n    are to be considered: the intensity, the range, the unification of\n    intellectual effort. Intensity is implied in the word _interest_;\n    extension is connoted by many-sidedness; what is meant by\n    unification will be briefly indicated in the next paragraph.\n\n65. Scattering no less than one-sidedness forms an antithesis to\nmany-sidedness. Many-sidedness is to be the basis of virtue; but\nthe latter is an attribute of personality, hence it is evident that\nthe unity of self-consciousness must not be impaired. The business\nof instruction is to form the person on many sides, and accordingly\nto avoid a distracting or dissipating effect. And instruction has\nsuccessfully avoided this in the case of one who with ease surveys his\nwell-arranged knowledge _in all of its unifying relations_ and holds it\ntogether as _his very own_.\n\n  This section points to the correlation of studies, a subject to\n  be considered hereafter in detail. It also throws light upon the\n  modern system of elective courses or elective studies in secondary\n  and higher education. The teachable subjects have now become so\n  numerous that election is imperative unless what is to be taught is\n  determined arbitrarily without regard to the needs or inclinations of\n  students. Furthermore, election is made imperative by the fact that\n  the higher education is now open to all minds of all social classes,\n  and that differentiated industry calls for many kinds of education.\n  But the need for mental symmetry, no less imperative now than in the\n  past, is reinforced by the need for social symmetry. Education must\n  put the student into sympathetic touch with the whole of life, not\n  a mere segment of it. Since many-sidedness cannot be interpreted\n  to mean knowledge of all subjects, this being impossible, it must\n  be interpreted to mean knowledge of all departments of learning.\n  Election may be permitted to emphasize departments of study, but\n  not to ignore them entirely. There are four or more languages worth\n  teaching, many departments of history, numerous sciences, and various\n  branches of mathematics, not to speak of the economic, political,\n  and social sciences. Enough of each department being given to insure\n  intelligent sympathy with the aspect of civilization it presents,\n  the student may be allowed to place the emphasis upon such groups of\n  studies as best conserve his tastes, his ability, and his destination\n  in life.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\n=The Conditions of Many-sidedness=\n\n\n66. It becomes obvious at once that a many-sided culture cannot be\nbrought about quickly. The requisite store of ideas is acquired only\nby successive efforts; but unification, a view of the whole, and\nassimilation are to be attained besides (65), whence an alternation, in\ntime, of absorption and reflection. The apprehension of the manifold is\nof necessity a gradual process, and the same is true of the unification\nof knowledge.\n\n  In _absorption_ the mind surrenders itself to the acquisition or\n  contemplation of facts. Thus a child will stand in open-eyed wonder\n  at beholding a novel spectacle, the scientist becomes absorbed in\n  watching the outcome of a new experiment, the philosopher loses\n  consciousness to all about him in the unfolding of some new train\n  of thought. Not only may absorption concern momentary experiences,\n  but it may in a broad way be said to cover considerable periods\n  of life, as, for instance, when a student becomes absorbed in the\n  mastery of foreign languages having no immediate relation to his\n  daily life. _Reflection_ is the assimilation of the knowledge gained\n  by absorption. The mind, recovering from its absorption in what\n  is external, relates its new-found experience to the sum of its\n  former experiences. New items of knowledge in this way find their\n  appropriate places in the organic structure of the mind. They are\n  apperceived. The many-sided thus comes to unity.\n\n  Rosenkranz calls absorption and reflection, _self-estrangement_ and\n  its _removal_. \u201cAll culture,\u201d he says, \u201cwhatever may be its special\n  purport, must pass through these two stages,--of estrangement,\n  and its removal.\u201d Again, he says, \u201cThe mind is (1) immediate (or\n  potential); but (2) it must estrange itself from itself, as it were,\n  so that it may place itself over against itself as a special object\n  of attention; (3) this estrangement is finally removed through a\n  further acquaintance with the object ... it feels itself at home in\n  that on which it looks, and returns again enriched to the form of\n  immediateness (to unity with itself). That which at first appeared\n  to be another than itself is now seen to be itself.\u201d[5] This is an\n  abstract statement of the fact that (1) in learning the mind becomes\n  absorbed for a time in external objects, ignoring temporarily their\n  inner meaning and relation to self, and (2) this period of absorption\n  is succeeded by one of reflection, in which the mind perceives\n  the significance of what has been observed, noting the laws and\n  principles underlying the phenomena and thus assimilating them to\n  what it conceives to be rational.\n\n  Owing to the fact that absorption and reflection may refer to very\n  short and also to comparatively long periods, they may be studied\n  with respect to their bearing in conducting recitations, and to their\n  importance in fixing courses of study. The former aspect of the two\n  processes will in this connection chiefly occupy our attention.\n\n[5] \u201cPhilosophy of Education,\u201d pp. 27, 28, New York, D. Appleton & Co.\n\n67. Some teachers lay great stress on the explication, step by step, of\nthe smaller and smallest components of the subject, and insist on a\nsimilar reproduction on the part of the pupils. Others prefer to teach\nby conversation, and allow themselves and their pupils great freedom of\nexpression. Others, again, call especially for the leading thoughts,\nbut demand that these be given with accuracy and precision, and in the\nprescribed order. Others, finally, are not satisfied until their pupils\nare self-actively exercising their minds in systematic thinking.\n\nVarious methods of teaching may thus arise; it is not necessary,\nhowever, that one should be habitually employed to the exclusion of\nthe rest. We may ask rather whether each does not contribute its share\nto a many-sided culture. In order that a multitude of facts may be\napprehended, explications or analyses are needed to prevent confusion;\nbut since a synthesis is equally essential, the latter process may\nbe started by conversation, continued by lifting into prominence the\ncardinal thoughts, and completed by the methodical independent thinking\nof the pupil: _clearness_, _association_, _system_, _method_.\n\n  In teaching we need to have (1) _clearness_ in the presentation\n  of specific facts, or the elements of what is to be mastered;\n  (2) _association_ of these facts with one another, and with other\n  related facts formerly acquired, in order that assimilation, or\n  apperception, may be adequately complete; (3) when sufficient facts\n  have been clearly presented and sufficiently assimilated, they must\n  be _systematically_ ordered, so that our knowledge will be more\n  perfectly unified than it could be did we stop short of thorough\n  classification, as in the study of botany, or of the perception of\n  rules and principles, as in mathematics and grammar; (4) finally the\n  facts, rules, principles, and classifications thus far assumed must\n  be secured for all time by their efficient _methodical_ application\n  in exercises that call forth the vigorous self-activity of the\n  pupil. These four stages of teaching may be considered fundamental,\n  though varying greatly according to the nature of the subject and\n  the ability of the pupil. It is good exercise for a pupil to take\n  long, rapid steps when able to do so; it is hopeless confusion to\n  undertake them when they are too great or too rapid for his capacity.\n  These four stages in methods of teaching conceived to be essential,\n  form the nucleus of an interesting development in the Herbartian\n  school, under the title of \u201cThe Formal [_i.e._ Essential] Steps\n  of Instruction.\u201d The leading ideas will be further described in a\n  subsequent paragraph (70).\n\n68. On closer inspection we find that instead of being mutually\nexclusive, these various modes of instruction are requisite, one by\none, in the order given above, for every group, small or large, of\nsubjects to be taught.\n\nFor, first, the beginner is able to advance but slowly. For him the\nshortest steps are the safest steps. He must stop at each point as\nlong as is necessary to make him apprehend distinctly each individual\nfact. To this he must give his whole thought. During the initial stage,\nthe teacher\u2019s art consists, therefore, pre\u00ebminently in knowing how to\nresolve his subject into very small parts. In this way he will avoid\ntaking sudden leaps without being aware that he is doing so.\n\nSecondly, association cannot be effected solely by a systematic mode\nof treatment, least of all at first. In the system each part has\nits own fixed place. At this place it is connected directly with\nthe nearest other parts, but also separated from other more remote\nparts by a definite distance, and connected with these only by way of\ndeterminate intervening members, or links. Besides, the nature of this\nconnection is not the same everywhere. Furthermore, a system is not to\nbe learned merely. It is to be used, applied, and often needs to be\nsupplemented by additions inserted in appropriate places. To be able\nto do this requires skill in diverting one\u2019s thoughts from any given\nstarting-point to every other point, forward, backward, sideways. Hence\ntwo things are requisite; preparation for the system, and application\nof the system. Preparation is involved in association; exercise in\nsystematic thinking must follow.\n\n69. During the first stage, when the clear apprehension of the\nindividual object or fact is the main thing, the shortest and most\nfamiliar words and sentences are the most appropriate. The teacher will\noften find it advisable also to have some, if not all, of the pupils\nrepeat them accurately after him. As is well known, even speaking in\nconcert has been tried in many schools not entirely without success,\nand for young beginners this method may indeed at times answer very\nwell.\n\nFor association, the best mode of procedure is informal conversation,\nbecause it gives the pupil an opportunity to test and to change the\naccidental union of his thoughts, to multiply the links of connection,\nand to assimilate, after his own fashion, what he has learned. It\nenables him, besides, to do at least a part of all this in any way that\nhappens to be the easiest and most convenient. He will thus escape the\ninflexibility of thought that results from a purely systematic learning.\n\nSystem, on the other hand, calls for a more connected discourse,\nand the period of presentation must be separated more sharply from\nthe period of repetition. By exhibiting and emphasizing the leading\nprinciples, system impresses upon the minds of pupils the value of\norganized knowledge; through its greater completeness it enriches their\nstore of information. But pupils are incapable of appreciating either\nadvantage when the systematic presentation is introduced too early.\n\nSkill in systematic thinking the pupil will obtain through the solution\nof assigned tasks, his own independent attempts, and their correction.\nFor such work will show whether he has fully grasped the general\nprinciples, and whether he is able to recognize them in and apply them\nto particulars.\n\n70. These remarks on the initial analysis and the subsequent gradual\nuniting of the matter taught, hold true, in general and in detail, of\nthe most diverse objects and branches of instruction. Much remains to\nbe added, however, to define with precision the application of these\nprinciples to a given subject and to the age of the pupil. It will\nsuffice, for the present, if we remind ourselves that instruction\nprovides a portion of the occupations necessary to government (56).\nNow, instruction produces fatigue in proportion to its duration; more\nor less, of course, according to individual differences. But the more\nfatiguing it is, the less it accomplishes as employment. This fact\nalone shows clearly the necessity of intermissions and change of\nwork. If the pupil has become actually tired, that is, has not lost\nmerely inclination to work, this feeling must be allowed, as far as\nis practicable, to pass away, at any rate to diminish, before the\nsame subject is resumed in a somewhat modified form. In order to have\ntime enough for this, the systematic presentation must in many cases\nbe postponed until long after the first lessons in the elements have\nbegun, and conversely, the rudiments of a subject frequently have to be\nat least touched upon long before connected instruction can be thought\nof. Many a principle needs to be approached from a great distance.\n\n  Herbart found his basis for the four steps of method, viz.\n  _clearness_, _association_, _system_, _method_, in the ideas of\n  absorption and reflection, the alternate pulsation of consciousness\n  in absorbing and assimilating knowledge. Others, adopting this\n  classification as essentially correct, have related these steps to\n  customary psychological analysis. Thus D\u00f6rpfeld and Wiget point\n  out that the mind goes through three well-marked processes when it\n  performs the complete act of learning, namely, _perception_ of new\n  facts; _thought_, or the bringing of ideas into logical relations;\n  and _application_, or the exercise of the motor activities of the\n  mind in putting knowledge into use. Perception gives the _percept_,\n  thought gives the _conception_ (or rule, principle, generalization),\n  and application gives _power_. In other words, the receptive and\n  reflective capacities of the mind come to their full fruition when\n  they result in adequate motor activities. With respect to perception\n  a good method will first _prepare_ the mind for facts and will then\n  _present_ them so that they may be apperceived. The first two steps\n  are therefore _preparation_ and _presentation_. The first step, as\n  Ziller pointed out, is essentially _analytic_ in character, since it\n  analyzes the present store of consciousness in order to bring facts\n  to the front that are closely related to those of the present lesson;\n  the second step, _i.e._, presentation, is essentially _synthetic_,\n  since its function is to add the matter of the new lesson to related\n  knowledge already in possession. Both together constitute the initial\n  stages of apperception.\n\n  _Thought_ consists of two processes that may also be termed steps,\n  and that are more or less observable in all good teaching; they are\n  (1) the _association_ of newly apperceived facts with one another and\n  with older and more firmly established ideas in order that rational\n  connection may be established in what one knows, and especially\n  in order that what is general and essential in given facts may be\n  grasped by the mind; and (2) the condensation of knowledge into a\n  _system_, such for instance as we see in the classifications of\n  botany and zo\u00f6logy, or in the interdependence of principles as in\n  arithmetic. Thought, in brief, involves the association of ideas and\n  the derivation of generalizations such as are appropriate to the\n  matter in hand and to the thought power of the pupils.\n\n  The third stage, that of _application_, is not subdivided. Most\n  other followers of Herbart, both German and American, though varying\n  in methods of approach, conform essentially to the results of this\n  analysis, distinguishing _five_ steps, as follows:--\n\n    1. Preparation--Analysis   }\n    2. Presentation--Synthesis } Apperception of percepts.\n    3. Association   } Thought. The derivation and arrangement\n    4. Systemization }  of rule, principle, or class.\n    5. Application. From knowing to doing: use of motor powers.\n\n  The reader is referred to the following-named works for extended\n  discussion of this topic: McMurray, \u201cGeneral Method\u201d; DeGarmo,\n  \u201cEssentials of Method\u201d; Lange, \u201cApperception,\u201d pp. 200\u2013245; Rein\n  (Van Liew\u2019s translation), \u201cOutlines of Pedagogy\u201d; Herbart (Felkins\u2019\n  translation), \u201cScience of Education\u201d; McMurray, C. A. & F. M., \u201cThe\n  Method of the Recitation.\u201d A comparative view of the treatment of\n  the Steps of Instruction by various authors is found in Van Liew\u2019s\n  translation of Rein\u2019s \u201cOutlines of Pedagogy,\u201d p. 145.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\n=The Conditions Determining Interest=\n\n\n71. Interest means self-activity. The demand for a many-sided interest\nis, therefore, a demand for many-sided self-activity. But not all\nself-activity, only the right degree of the right kind, is desirable;\nelse lively children might very well be left to themselves. There would\nbe no need of educating or even of governing them. It is the purpose\nof instruction to give the right _direction_ to their thoughts and\nimpulses, to incline these toward the morally good and true. Children\nare thus in a measure passive. But this passivity should by no means\ninvolve suppression of self-activity. It should, on the contrary, imply\na stimulation of all that is best in the child.\n\nAt this point a psychological distinction becomes necessary, namely,\nthat between designedly reproduced, or \u201cgiven,\u201d and spontaneous\nrepresentations. In recitations of what has been learned we have an\nexample of the former; the latter appear in the games and fancies of\nchildren. A method of study that issues in mere reproduction leaves\nchildren largely in a passive state, for it crowds out for the time\nbeing the thoughts they would otherwise have had. In games, however,\nand in the free play of fancy, and accordingly also in that kind of\ninstruction which finds an echo here, free activity predominates.\n\nThis distinction is not intended to affirm the existence of two\ncompartments in which the ideas, separated once for all, would, of\nnecessity, have to remain. Ideas that must by effort be raised into\nconsciousness because they do not rise spontaneously, may become\nspontaneous by gradual strengthening. But this development we cannot\ncount on unless instruction, advancing step by step, bring it about.\n\n  Interest must be conceived as self-propulsive activity toward an\n  end. It is a part of the teacher\u2019s function to assist the pupil in\n  making the appropriate ideas strong and spontaneous. Occasionally\n  a mere suggestion will change the whole mental attitude toward an\n  end and the means for reaching it. A student one day approached his\n  instructor with this query: \u201cHow can I get through this study with\n  the least expenditure of time and effort?\u201d The desired answer was\n  first given. The instructor then remarked that there was another way\n  of viewing the matter, viz., that one might consider how to get the\n  _most_ rather than the _least_ out of the study. He then briefly\n  unfolded its nature and possibilities, whereupon the student became\n  one of the most interested members of the class. He had come with\n  only an indirect interest in the subject as an end; he regarded the\n  study as a required task and the means of passing upon it as so much\n  drudgery; but he so changed his attitude toward it, that the study\n  became an end personally desired, and the daily effort a pleasurable\n  exercise of his self-directed power of thought. The interest that\n  the instructor had aroused in the end was transferred to the means.\n\n72. It is the teacher\u2019s business, while giving instruction, to observe\nwhether the ideas of his pupils rise spontaneously or not. If they do,\nthe pupils are said to be attentive; the lesson has won their interest.\nIf not, attention is, indeed, not always wholly gone. It may, moreover,\nbe enforced for a time before actual fatigue sets in. But doubt arises\nwhether instruction can effect a future interest in the same subjects.\n\nAttention is a factor of such importance to education as to call for a\nmore detailed treatment.\n\n73. Attention may be broadly defined as an attitude of mind in which\nthere is readiness to form new ideas. Such readiness is either\nvoluntary or involuntary. If voluntary, it depends on a resolution;\nthe teacher frequently secures this through admonitions or threats.\nFar more desirable and fruitful is involuntary attention. It is this\nattention that the art of teaching must seek to induce. Herein lies the\nkind of interest to be sought by the teacher.\n\n  _Forced_ and _spontaneous_ are more truly expressive terms than\n  _voluntary_ and _involuntary_ in this connection. It is not meant\n  that interested activity is _against_ the will, or even indifferent\n  to it. On the contrary, it is a form of activity that calls every\n  resource of the mind into full play. The will is never so promptly\n  active as when it is doing the things in which it is most interested;\n  it is, however, a _spontaneous_, not a _forced_ activity.\n\n  There is, as Dr. John Dewey points out,[6] a contradiction between\n  Herbart\u2019s Pedagogy and his Psychology, as follows: the Pedagogy\n  regards interest as the lever of education, the means for securing\n  spontaneous activity of mind; the Psychology regards interest as a\n  feeling arising from the relation of ideas. Ideas must therefore be\n  _given_, in right relations, to arouse interest, while interest is in\n  turn conceived as the means of arousing them. This is reasoning in a\n  circle. The difficulty arises from asserting the primacy of ideas in\n  mental life, and then speaking of _self-activity_, which presupposes\n  the primacy of motor, or impulsive activities. The reader will avoid\n  all contradictions in educational theory by accepting the modern\n  view of the primacy, not of ideas, but of what may broadly be termed\n  _will_. The latter view is in accord with biological and historical\n  science. Ideas are a later production of mind; they serve to define\n  more clearly the ends for which we work, at the same time giving us\n  insight into the best means of attaining them. For an interesting\n  discussion of the primacy of the will, the reader is referred to\n  Professor Paulsen\u2019s \u201cIntroduction to Philosophy,\u201d pp. 111\u2013122.[7]\n\n[6] \u201cInterest as Related to Will,\u201d pp. 237\u2013241, Second Supplement to\nFirst Herbart Year Book.\n\n[7] Henry Holt & Co., New York, 1895.\n\n74. Involuntary [spontaneous] attention is subdivided into primitive\nand apperceiving. The latter especially is of the greatest importance\nin teaching, but it rests on the former, the conditions of which must\nconstantly be taken into account.\n\nApperception, or assimilation, takes place through the reproduction of\npreviously acquired ideas and their union with the new element, the\nmost energetic apperception, although not necessarily the best, being\neffected by the ideas rising spontaneously. This topic will be treated\nmore fully below (77). Here it suffices to say that the apperceiving\nattention obviously presupposes the primitive attention; otherwise\napperceiving ideas would never have been formed.\n\n  The psychological and educational importance of the idea of\n  apperception, or the assimilation of knowledge, has been much\n  emphasized in recent years. For a psychological interpretation of\n  the theory, the reader is referred to Wundt\u2019s \u201cHuman and Animal\n  Psychology,\u201d[8] pp. 235\u2013251. The educational significance of the\n  doctrine has been well brought out by Dr. Karl Lange, in his able\n  monograph on \u201cApperception.\u201d[9] The subject has been more popularly\n  treated in Dr. McMurray\u2019s \u201cGeneral Method,\u201d[10] and in the writer\u2019s\n  \u201cEssentials of Method\u201d[11]; also in a number of other works.\n\n[8] New York, Macmillan & Co., 1894.\n\n[9] Boston, D. C. Heath & Co., 1894.\n\n[10] Bloomington, Ill., Public School Pub. Co., 1894.\n\n[11] Boston, D. C. Heath & Co., 1893.\n\n75. The primitive or original attention depends primarily on the\nstrength of the sense-impression. Bright colors and loud speaking are\nmore easily noticed than dark colors and low tones. It would be an\nerror, however, to infer that the strongest sense-perceptions are at\nthe same time the most adequate. These quickly blunt the receptivity,\nwhile weak sense-impressions may, in the course of time, engender\nideation as energetic as that produced by originally obtrusive\nperceptions. For this reason, a middle course must be chosen from\nthe first. For children, however, the direct sense-perception, even\nof a picture, if the object itself is not to be had, is altogether\npreferable to mere description.\n\nThe presence in the minds of children of ideas--those supplied by\ninstruction itself not excepted--contrary to the new representations to\nbe mastered, acts as a hindrance or check. This very fact explains why\nclearness of apprehension is not gained where instruction piles up one\nthing upon another in too rapid succession. It is essential, therefore,\nin the case of beginners, so to single out each fact, to separate\npart from part, and to proceed step by step, that apprehension may be\nrendered easy for them.\n\nA second hindrance to attention is of a more temporary character, but\nmay nevertheless work much mischief. It makes a vast difference whether\nthe ideas aroused are in a state of equilibrium or not. Long sentences\nin speech and in books are less easily apprehended than short ones.\nThey excite a movement of many albeit connected thoughts, which do not\nat once subside into their proper places. Now, just as in reading and\nwriting pauses must be observed, which is done more easily in short\nthan in long sentences, instruction in general must have its chosen\nstopping-places and resting-points at which the child may tarry as\nlong as may be necessary. Otherwise the accumulation of thoughts will\nbecome excessive, crowding in upon what follows, and this upon the next\nnew element, until finally the pupils arrive at a state where they no\nlonger hear anything.\n\n76. The four essentials then for primitive attention are: strength\nof sense-impression, economy of receptivity, avoidance of harmful\nantitheses to existing ideas, and delay until the aroused ideas have\nrecovered their equilibrium. But in actual teaching it will be found\ndifficult to do justice to all of these requirements simultaneously.\nSameness of presentation should not be carried too far lest the child\u2019s\nreceptivity be taxed too heavily. Monotony produces weariness. But a\nsudden change of subject frequently discloses the fact that the new is\ntoo remote from what has preceded, and that the old thoughts refuse\nto give way. If the change is delayed too long the lesson drags. Too\nlittle variety causes ennui. The pupils begin to think of something\nelse, and with that their attention is gone completely.\n\nThe teacher should by all means study literary masterpieces for\nthe purpose of learning from great authors how they escaped these\ndifficulties. That he may strike the right chord in the earlier stages\nof instruction, he should turn particularly to simple popular writers,\nHomer, for example, whose story-telling is, on the other hand, too\ngeneral and _na\u00efve_ for older pupils who have lost the power to put\nthemselves back into a past period of culture. Yet it is safe to\nsay in general, that classic writers seldom take sudden leaps and\nnever stand still entirely. Their method of unfolding consists in a\nscarcely perceptible, at any rate an always easy, advance. They dwell,\nindeed, long on the same thought, but nevertheless achieve, little\nby little, most powerful contrasts. Poor writers, on the contrary,\npile up the most glaring antitheses without other than the natural\nresult--the antagonistic ideas expel each other and the mind is left\nempty. The same result threatens the teacher who aims at brilliancy of\npresentation.\n\n77. The apperceiving, or assimilating, attention (74), though not the\nfirst in time, is yet observed very early. It shows itself when little\nchildren catch and repeat aloud single, familiar words of an otherwise\nunintelligible conversation between adults; when a little later they\nname, in their own way, the well-known objects that they come upon in\ntheir picture-books; when later still, while learning to read, they\npick out from the book single names coinciding with their recollection;\nand so on in innumerable other instances. From within ideas are\nsuddenly bursting forth to unite with whatever similar elements present\nthemselves. Now this apperceiving activity must be exercised constantly\nin all instruction. For instruction is given in words only; the ideas\nconstituting their meaning must be supplied by the hearer. But words\nare not meant to be understood merely; they are intended to elicit\ninterest. And this requires a higher grade and greater facility of\napperception.\n\nUniversally popular poems do not produce their pleasing effect by\nteaching something new. They portray what is already known and utter\nwhat every one feels. Ideas already possessed are aroused, expanded,\ncondensed, and consequently put in order and strengthened. On the other\nhand, when defects are apperceived, _e.g._, misprints, grammatical\nblunders, faulty drawings, false notes, etc., the successive unfolding\nof the series of ideas is interrupted so that their interlacing cannot\ntake place properly. Here we see how instruction must proceed and what\nit must avoid in order to secure interest.\n\n    =Note.=--The apperceiving attention is of so great importance in\n    instruction that a word or two more will be in place. The highest\n    stage of this kind of attention is indicated by the words--gaze,\n    scrutinize, listen, handle. The idea of the examined object is\n    already present in consciousness, as is likewise the idea of the\n    class of sense-perceptions looked for. The psychic result turns on\n    the ensuing sense-impressions, on their contrasts, combinations,\n    and reproductions. These are able to induce the corresponding\n    mental states unhindered, because disturbing foreign elements\n    have already been removed and remain excluded. Passing from this\n    highest grade to lower degrees of attention, we find that the idea\n    of the object is not yet--at least not prominently--present, that\n    this itself first needs to be reproduced and made more vivid. The\n    question arises whether this can be accomplished directly or only\n    indirectly. In the former case the idea must be in itself strong\n    enough; in the second it must be sufficiently united with other\n    ideas which it is possible to arouse directly. Moreover, the\n    obstacles to reproduction must be such that they can be overcome.\n\n    When the apperceiving attention is once under way, it should be\n    utilized and not disturbed. The teaching must take the promised\n    direction until it has satisfied expectation. The solutions must\n    correspond clearly to the problems. Everything must be connected.\n    The attention is disturbed by untimely pauses and the presence of\n    extraneous matter. It is also disturbed by apperceptions that bring\n    into light that which should remain in shadow. This is true of\n    words and phrases too often repeated, of mannerisms of speech--of\n    everything that gives prominence to the language at the expense\n    of the subject-matter, even rhymes, verse-forms, and rhetorical\n    adornment when used in the wrong place.\n\n    But that which is too simple must be avoided also. In this case the\n    apperception is soon completed; it does not give enough to do. The\n    fullest unit possible is to be sought.\n\n    A rule of vital importance is that, before setting his pupils at\n    work, the teacher should take them into the field of ideas wherein\n    their work is to be done. He can accomplish this at the beginning\n    of a recitation hour by means of a brief outline view of the ground\n    to be covered in the lesson or lecture.\n\n78. Instruction is to supplement that which has been gained already by\nexperience and by intercourse with others (36); these foundations must\nexist when instruction begins. If they are wanting, they must be firmly\nestablished first. Any deficiency here means a loss to instruction,\nbecause the pupils lack the thoughts which they need in order to\ninterpret the words of the teacher.\n\nIn the same way, knowledge derived from earlier lessons must be\nextended and deepened by subsequent instruction. This presupposes such\nan organization of the whole work of instruction that that which comes\nlater shall always find present the earlier knowledge with which it is\nto be united.\n\n79. Ordinarily, because their eyes are fixed solely on the facts to\nbe learned, teachers concern themselves little with the ideas already\npossessed by the pupils. Consequently they make an effort in behalf\nof the necessary attention only when it is failing and progress is\nchecked. Now they have recourse to voluntary attention (73), and to\nobtain this rely on inducements, or, more often, on reprimands and\npenalties. Indirect interest is thus substituted for direct interest,\nwith the result that the resolution of the pupil to be attentive fails\nto effect energetic apprehension and realizes but little coherence. It\nwavers constantly, and often enough gives way to disgust.\n\nIn the most favorable case, if instruction is thorough, _i.e._,\nscientific, a foundation of elementary knowledge is gradually laid\nsufficiently solid for later years to build on; in other words, out\nof the elementary knowledge an apperceiving mass is created in the\nmind of the pupil which will aid him in his future studies. There may\nbe several of such masses; but each constitutes by itself its own\nkind of one-sided learning, and it is after all doubtful whether even\nhere direct interest is implied. For there is small hope that this\ninterest will be aroused in the youth when the years of boyhood have\nbeen devoted merely to the mastering of preliminary knowledge. The\nprospects of future station and calling are opening before him and the\nexaminations are at hand.\n\n80. The fact should not be overlooked, however, that even the\nbest method cannot secure an adequate degree of apperceiving\nattention (75\u201378) from every pupil; recourse must accordingly be had to\nthe voluntary attention, _i.e._, the pupil\u2019s resolution. But for the\nnecessary measures the teacher must depend, not merely on rewards and\npunishments, but chiefly on habit and custom. Instruction unites at\nthis point with government and training. In all cases where the pupil\nbegins his work not entirely without compulsion, it is particularly\nimportant that he should soon become aware of his own progress. The\nseveral steps must be distinctly and suitably pointed out to him; they\nmust at the same time be easy of execution and succeed each other\nslowly. The instruction should be given with accuracy, even strictness,\nseriousness, and patience.\n\n81. The voluntary attention is most frequently demanded for memorizing,\nfor which, apart from all else, the presence of interest is not always\na perfectly favorable condition. This is true even of spontaneous\ninterest, for the ideas that rise spontaneously have a movement of\ntheir own, which by deviating from the given sequence may lead to\nsurreptitious substitutions. Like observation, intentional memorizing\npresupposes a certain amount of self-control. At this point a question\narises as to the proper place of learning by heart.\n\nCommitting to memory is very necessary; use is made of it in every\ndepartment of knowledge. But memorizing should never be the first thing\nexcept when it is done without effort. For if the memorizing of new\nmatter, which the pupil cannot as yet have associated incorrectly,\ncosts him an effort, it is plain that the single presentations\nencounter some opposition or other by which they are repelled too\nquickly for their mutual association to take place. The teacher must\nin this case talk the subject over first, set the pupil to work upon\nit, make him more familiar with it, and must sometimes even wait for a\nmore opportune moment. Where clearness in single perceptions and their\nassociation (67 _et seq._) are still deficient, these must be attended\nto first of all. After the ideas have been strengthened in this way,\nmemorizing will be accomplished more easily.\n\nThe assigned series should not be too long. Three foreign words\nare often more than enough. Many pupils have to be shown how to\nmemorize. Left to themselves they will begin over and over again,\nthen halt, and try in vain to go on. A fundamental rule is that the\nstarting-point be shifted. If, for example, the name Methuselah\nis to be learned, the teacher would, perhaps, say successively:\nlah,--selah,--thuselah,--Methuselah.\n\nSome have to be warned against trying to get through quickly. We have\nto do here with a physical mechanism which requires time and whose\noperation the pupil himself as little as the teacher should endeavor to\nover-accelerate. Slow at first, then faster.\n\nIt is not always advisable to put a stop to all bodily movements. Many\nmemorize by way of speaking aloud, others through copying, some through\ndrawing. Reciting in concert also may prove feasible at times.\n\nIncorrect associations are very much to be feared; they are tenacious.\nA great deal, to be sure, may be accomplished through severity; but\nwhen interest in the subject-matter is wholly lacking, the pupil begins\nby memorizing incorrectly, then ceases to memorize at all, and simply\nwastes time.\n\nThe absolute failure of some pupils in memory work may perhaps be\npartly owing to unknown physical peculiarities. Very often, however,\nthe cause of the evil lies in the state of false tension into which\nsuch pupils put themselves while attempting with reluctance what they\nregard as an almost impossible task. A teacher\u2019s injudicious attitude\nduring the first period, his remarks, for instance, about learning\nby heart as a thing of toil and trouble, may lead to this state of\nmind, for which perhaps awkward first steps in learning to read have\nprepared the way. It is foolish to look for means of lightening still\nmore the exercises of children that retain and recite with facility;\nbut, on the other hand, great caution is necessary because there are\nalso others who may be rendered unfit for memorizing by the first\nattempt of the teacher to make them recite, or even only to repeat\nafter him, a certain series of words. In attempting, by such early\ntests, to find out whether children retain and reproduce easily, it is\nessential that the teacher put them in good humor, that he select his\nmatter with this end in view, and that he go on only so long as they\nfeel they can do what is asked of them. The results of his observations\nmust determine the further mode of procedure.\n\n82. However carefully the process of memorizing may have been\nperformed, the question remains: How long will the memorized matter be\nretained? On this point teachers deceive themselves time and again, in\nspite of universally common experiences.\n\nNow, in the first place, not everything that is learned by heart needs\nto be retained. Many an exercise serves its purpose when it prepares\nthe way for the next, and renders further development possible. In\nthis way a short poem is sometimes learned as a temporary means for an\nexercise in declamation; or chapters from Latin authors are committed\nto memory in order to speed the writing and speaking of Latin. In many\ncases it is sufficient for later years if the pupil knows how to look\nfor literary helps, and how to make use of them.\n\nBut if, secondly, that which has been memorized is to remain impressed\non the memory for a long time, forever if possible, it is only a\nquestionable expedient to reassign the same thing as often as it is\nforgotten. The feeling of weary disgust may more than offset the\npossible gain. There is only one efficient method--practice; practice\nconsisting in the constant application of that which is to be retained\nto that which actually interests the pupils, in other words, that which\ncontinually engages the ideas rising spontaneously.\n\nHere we find the principle that governs the choice of material for\nsuccessful memorizing. And as to the amount--so much as is needed\nfor the immediate future; for excessive quantity promotes an early\nforgetting. Besides, in instruction, as in experience, there is a great\ndeal that may not be accurately remembered, but nevertheless renders\nabundant service by stimulating the mind and qualifying it for further\nwork.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\n=The Main Kinds of Interest=\n\n\n83. Instruction is to be linked to the knowledge that experience\nprovides, and to the ethical sentiments that arise from social\nintercourse (36). Empirical interest relates directly to experience;\nsympathetic interest to human association. Discursive reflection on the\nobjects of experience involves the development of speculative interest,\nreflection on the wider relations of society that of social interest.\nWith these we group, on the one hand \u00e6sthetic, on the other religious\ninterest, both of which have their origin not so much in discursive\nthought as in a non-progressing contemplation of things and of human\ndestiny.\n\n  The classification of interests into two groups, namely, (a) those\n  which arise from knowledge, and (b) those which arise from\n  association with others, and the subdivision of each of these\n  into three groups, making six in all, is one not of necessity,\n  but of convenience. The knowledge interests are, (a) empirical,\n  (b) speculative, (c) \u00e6sthetic; the interests arising from association\n  are, (a) sympathetic, (b) social, (c) religious. This classification\n  is adopted without criticism by most Herbartian writers. That the\n  classification is made simply for convenience may be seen from such\n  considerations as the following:--\n\n  1. Strictly speaking, _all_ interests arise from _experience_, the\n  social no less than the speculative; hence experience is not a basis\n  for classification at all.\n\n  2. \u00c6sthetic interests, resting upon contemplation, need not be put\n  into a group with those that rest upon the perception of cause and\n  effect, or other relations perceived by discursive reflection.\n\n  3. The same is true for those empirical interests that are supposed\n  to rest upon immediate sense apprehension, such as the interest in\n  color, shape, sound, taste, odor.\n\n  4. If perception, reasoning, and sensibility are made bases for the\n  classification of interests, why should not the active volitional\n  powers of the mind become a basis likewise? Some claim that pleasure\n  and pain rest primarily upon the _motor_ side of our activity, rather\n  than upon the sensory. Our interest in _doing_ is antecedent to our\n  interest in knowing or feeling. This fact is fully recognized by all\n  Herbartians in the theory of methods, though it finds no recognition\n  in their classification of interests.\n\n  It must be granted, however, that Herbart\u2019s classification is\n  convenient, even if not especially scientific.\n\n  The empirical interest is the mental eagerness aroused by direct\n  appeal to the senses, as by novel shapes, colors, sounds, odors,\n  and the like. Its first stage is wonder, admiration, fear, awe. The\n  child that drops his picture-book to chase a butterfly abandons one\n  empirical interest for a stronger one. This form of interest is\n  usually transient; unless it develops into a new kind of interest, it\n  is soon abandoned for some other attraction. A primary teacher may\n  catch but cannot hold the attention of a child by sensuous devices\n  leading to nothing beyond themselves.\n\n  The speculative interest is more permanent than the empirical. It\n  rests primarily on the perception of the relations of cause and\n  effect; it seeks to know the reasons of things. On this account\n  it is a higher form of apperception, or mental assimilation. The\n  most fundamental idea in the speculative interest is that of\n  purpose. We want to know the _purpose of things_, the function they\n  are to perform, the end they are expected to reach. Thus a child\n  has a key to the understanding of even so complicated a machine\n  as a self-binder, or a printing press, provided he sees clearly\n  the purpose of each. Until this is perceived the facts are an\n  unintelligible jumble of particulars. A crude form of the speculative\n  interest is seen very early in the child, when he demands a reason\n  for everything. It always remains the mainspring of intellectual\n  life; when it ceases to be a motive power to thinking, thought is\n  dead.\n\n  The \u00e6sthetic interest rests upon the enjoyment of contemplation, when\n  an _ideal_, sometimes distinct, sometimes vague, can be perceived\n  through a _sense medium_. In the Greek statue of _Apollo Belvidere_,\n  a divinity is represented in marble. In the painting, _Breaking\n  Home Ties_, the feelings of a lad and his mother upon parting are\n  portrayed upon canvas. In music the ideal is usually vague, in\n  poetry it is clear and distinct. The \u00e6sthetic value of the latter\n  is enhanced by good oral recitation, both because appeal is made to\n  an additional sense, and because the ears of men were attuned to\n  beautiful poetry long before the eye learned to apprehend it.\n\n  All of these interests, the empirical, the speculative, and the\n  \u00e6sthetic, may be classed as _individual_, since they rest upon\n  purely subjective grounds. They might belong to any Robinson Crusoe\n  who became isolated from his fellows. But the remaining groups, the\n  sympathetic, the social, and the religious, rest upon the idea of\n  intercourse with others. They are, therefore, of supreme importance\n  for civilized life. Without the sympathetic co\u00f6peration of men\n  civilization would become impossible. Mephistopheles in \u201cFaust\u201d\n  defines himself as \u201cthe Spirit that ever denies.\u201d[12] Consequently\n  any man who becomes so absorbed in his individual concerns as to deny\n  all social duties and renounce all social benefits becomes thereby\n  a kind of civic devil. The cynics of old repudiated all social\n  obligations, thus making themselves bitter civic devils, while the\n  Cyrenaics, choosing self-indulgence, but denying likewise social\n  duties, transformed themselves into sensualistic civic devils.\n\n  It is an imperative duty of the teacher, therefore, to arouse the\n  social and civic interests of the children, since upon these as\n  active forces the welfare and possibly the stability of society rest.\n\n  The school is the place, the studies and daily intercourse the means,\n  whereby this class of interests may be aroused. Pupils brought up\n  in isolation by private tutors are likely to become non-social in\n  their disposition. Idiosyncrasies are fostered, there being little\n  or no development of ideals of social co\u00f6peration. The kindergarten,\n  however, when rightly conducted, is nearly always able to foster the\n  social instincts so powerfully that even the lack of later education\n  is not able to obliterate them. When this training is reinforced by\n  the well-governed school, a solid foundation for civic character is\n  likely to be laid. The studies most important for the fostering of\n  social and civic interests are literature, history, civil government,\n  and geography, though others have a more or less intimate relation to\n  them.\n\n[12] \u201cIch bin der Geist der stets verneint.\u201d\n\n84. We cannot expect to see all of these interests unfold equally in\nevery individual; but among a number of pupils we may confidently\nlook for them all. The demand for many-sidedness will accordingly\nbe satisfied the better, the nearer the single individual likewise\napproaches a state of mental culture in which all these kinds of\ninterest are active with equal energy.\n\n85. As has already been suggested (37), these six kinds of interest\narise from two sources to which historical and nature studies\nrespectively correspond. With this the facts observed in classical\nhigh schools (_Gymnasia_) coincide: pupils usually lean toward one\nside or the other. It would be a serious blunder, however, to affirm,\non this account, an antithesis between the historical and the natural\nscience interest; or, worse still, to speak of a philological and a\nmathematical interest instead--as is, indeed, not infrequently done.\nSuch confusion in ideas should not continue; it would lead to utterly\nerroneous views of the whole management of instruction. The easiest\nmeans to counteract the evil is a consideration of the multitude of\none-sided tendencies that occur even within the six kinds of interest;\nwe shall be able, at all events, to bring out still more clearly the\nmanifold phases of interest that must be taken into account. For the\npossible cases of one-sidedness are differentiated far more minutely\nthan could be shown by the discrimination of only six kinds of interest.\n\n  \u201cIs the ideal education classical or scientific?\u201d This question,\n  which is still debated, really means, shall we cultivate chiefly the\n  _social_ or the _knowledge_ interests. The historical, or culture,\n  studies belong pre\u00ebminently on the one side, the natural sciences\n  most largely on the other. Herbert Spencer in 1860 made a special\n  plea for science studies in his monograph, \u201cEducation,\u201d claiming that\n  such studies are of chief worth both for knowledge and training. At\n  that time classical, or culture, studies had possession of almost\n  every institution for higher education, so that Spencer\u2019s special\n  plea was justified. At present, however, science, which has developed\n  its own methods of instruction, holds an equal place with social\n  studies in the colleges and universities. When we are asked which\n  half of human interests we will choose, the knowledge or the social,\n  our reply can only be: We will abandon neither, but choose both. Both\n  are essential to human happiness; both are necessary for social and\n  material advance.\n\n86. Empirical interest becomes one-sided in its way when it seizes upon\none kind of objects of experience to the neglect of the rest. When, for\ninstance, a person wants to be a botanist exclusively, a mineralogist,\na zo\u00f6logist; or when he likes languages only, perhaps only the ancient\nor only the modern, or of all these only one; or when as a traveller\nhe wishes to see, like many so-called tourists, only the countries\nthat everybody talks about, in order to have seen them too; or when,\nas a collector of curiosities, he confines himself to one or the other\nfancy; or when, in the capacity of historian, he cares only about the\ninformation bearing on one country, or one period, etc.\n\nSpeculative interest becomes one-sided by confining itself to logic\nor to mathematics, mathematics perhaps only as treated by the old\ngeometricians; or to metaphysics restricted possibly to one system; or\nto physics narrowed down perhaps to one hypothesis; or to pragmatic\nhistory.\n\n\u00c6sthetic interest in one case is concentrated exclusively on painting\nand sculpture; in another on poetry, perhaps only on lyric or dramatic\npoetry; in still another on music, or perhaps only on a certain species\nof music, etc.\n\nSympathetic interest is one-sided when a man is willing to live only\nwith his social peers, or only with fellow-countrymen, or only with\nmembers of his own family; while a fellow-feeling for all others is\nwanting.\n\nSocial interest grows one-sided if one gives himself up wholly to one\npolitical party, and measures weal or woe only by party success or\nfailure.\n\nReligious interest becomes one-sided according to differences of creed\nand sect, to one of which allegiance is given, while those who hold a\ndifferent view are regarded as unworthy of esteem.\n\nMuch of this one-sidedness is brought about in later life by one\u2019s\nvocation. But a man\u2019s vocation must not isolate him. Yet this would\nhappen if such narrowness should make headway in youth.\n\n87. A still more detailed analysis of the varieties of one-sidedness\nwould be possible; it is not needed, however, for ascertaining the\nposition of the above-mentioned high school studies among the subjects\nof instruction calculated to stimulate interest. Languages, to begin\nwith, form a part of the curriculum; but why among so many languages\nis the preference given to Latin and Greek? Obviously because of the\nliterature and history opened through them. Literature with its poets\nand orators falls under \u00e6sthetic interest; history awakens sympathy\nwith distinguished men and the weal and woe of society, indirectly\ncontributing in either case even to religious interest. No better focus\nfor so many different stimuli can be found. Even speculative interest\nis not slighted if inquiries into the grammatical structure of these\nlanguages are added. Moreover, the study of history does not stop with\nthe ancients; the knowledge of literature also is widened that the\nvarious interests may be developed still more completely. History,\nif taught pragmatically, assists speculative interest from another\ndirection. In this respect, however, mathematics has precedence; only,\nin order to effect a sure entrance and abiding results, it must unite\nwith the natural sciences, which appeal at once to the empirical and\nthe speculative interest.\n\nIf now these studies co\u00f6perate properly, a great deal will be done, in\nconjunction with religious instruction, toward turning the youthful\nmind in the directions that answer to a many-sided interest. But if,\non the contrary, the languages and mathematics were allowed to fall\napart, if the connecting links were removed, and every pupil were\npermitted to choose one or the other branch of study, according to\nhis preferences, mere bald one-sidedness of the kind sufficiently\ncharacterized above would be the outcome.\n\n88. It is admitted now that not only classical but also public high\nschools in general should provide for this same many-sided culture,\nthat is, should take account of the same main classes of interests. The\nonly difference lies in the fact that for the pupils of the classical\nhigh schools the practice of a vocation is not so near at hand;\nwhereas, in the public high schools, there is a certain preponderance\nof modern literature and history, together with inability to equip\ncompletely with the helps to a manifold mental activity those who\npurpose to go on. Much the same is true of all the lower schools whose\naim is to educate. It is different with trade schools and polytechnic\ninstitutes; in short, with those schools which presuppose a completed\neducation--completed to the extent permitted by circumstances.\n\nIf, then, the programme of a public high school is of the right sort,\nit will show as well as the curriculum of a classical preparatory\nschool does, that an attempt is being made to guard against such\none-sidedness as would be the outcome if one of the six main classes of\ninterest were slighted.\n\n  How one-sidedness under an elective system may be avoided is\n  discussed in a previous section (65).\n\n89. But no instruction is able to prevent the special varieties of\none-sidedness that may develop within the limits of each main group.\nWhen observation, reflection, the sense of beauty, sympathy, public\nspirit, and religious aspiration have once been awakened, although\nperhaps only within a small range of objects, the farther extension\nover a greater number and variety of objects must be left largely to\nthe individual and to opportunity. To pupils of talent, above all\nof genius, instruction may give the necessary outlook by enabling\nthem to see what talent and genius achieve elsewhere; but their own\ndistinguishing traits they must themselves answer for and retain.\n\nMoreover, the above-mentioned forms of one-sidedness are not all\nequally detrimental, because they do not assert themselves with the\nsame degree of exclusiveness. Each may, indeed, lead to self-conceit;\nbut this tendency does not attach to all in the same measure.\n\n  Holding to the idea of many-sided interest, what justification is\n  there for elective studies? To this, the reply must be made that in\n  elementary and in a part of secondary education the principle of\n  indiscriminate election must be rejected. The only rational election\n  in secondary education, as already explained (65), is election among\n  the various members of a group of similar studies. In this way\n  the destination and ability of the pupil may be regarded, without\n  sacrificing the needed many-sidedness. The case is different in\n  higher education, however, for election and many-sidedness are here\n  quite reconcilable. Higher education is the _comparative study_ of\n  a few branches. Thus, for example, on the social side, the whole\n  civilization of Greece is focussed now in her political history,\n  now in her art, now in her language, now in her education, now in\n  her philosophy. The student who studies any one of these subjects\n  thoroughly gets a comparative view of the whole of Greek life. It is\n  not necessary for him to study them all. The same is true of each\n  important country or epoch. Every culture study is an eminence from\n  which the whole is seen.\n\n  Likewise in science, to study a typical form of life exhaustively by\n  the comparative method gives one an insight into all related life, as\n  well as many glimpses into physical and chemical science. In a large\n  sense, therefore, we study all nature, whether we elect biology,\n  physics, or chemistry, provided we use the comparative method of\n  higher education. In the college or university, therefore, a large\n  amount of election is justifiable. That would be a one-sided course\n  which neglected entirely all social or all science studies.\n\n90. Under favorable circumstances of time and opportunity, such as\nobtain in classical and other high schools, effort, as we know, is\nnot restricted to the initial stimulation. Hence the question arises:\nIn what sequence shall the aroused interests be further developed? Of\ninstruction-material there is no lack; we must select and arrange,\nguided in the main by what was said on the conditions of many-sidedness\nand of interest. Thus to recapitulate: there must be progress from the\nsimple to the more complex, and solicitous endeavor to make spontaneous\ninterest possible. But in applying these principles we must not shut\nour eyes to the particular requirements and the difficulties in our way.\n\n91. The empirical material of languages, history, geography, etc.,\ncalls for specific complications and series of ideas, together with\nthe network of their interrelations. As to language, even words are\ncomplex wholes, made up of stems plus whatever elements enter into\ninflection and derivation, and further resolvable into single speech\nsounds. History has its time-series, geography its network of spatial\nrelations. The psychological laws of reproduction determine the\nprocesses of memorizing and of retaining.\n\nThe mother-tongue serves as a medium through which foreign languages\nbecome intelligible, but at the same time offers resistance to the\nforeign sounds and constructions. Furthermore, it takes a young boy\na long time to get familiar with the thought that far away in time\nand in space there have been and are human beings who spoke and\nspeak languages other than his own, and about whom he need concern\nhimself at all. Teachers, moreover, very commonly proceed on the\nfallacious and very mischievous assumption that, because their mode of\nexpression is clear, it will, of course, be understood by the pupil.\nThe resources of child-language increase but slowly. Such impediments\nas these must be removed. Geography extends the knowledge of spatial\ndistances, but the inhabitant of a flat country lacks the sense-images\nof mountain ranges; one who grows up in a valley is without the\nsense-perception of a plain; the majority of pupils lack the concrete\nidea of an ocean. That the earth is a sphere revolving about its own\naxis and about the sun, for a long time sounds to children more like\na fairy-tale than like a statement of fact; and even educated young\nmen sometimes hesitate to accept the theory of the planetary system\nbecause they are unable to comprehend how it is possible to know such\nthings. Difficulties of this kind must be met and not massed together\nunnecessarily.--For history, old ruins might serve as starting-points\nif only the material they furnish do not prove altogether too scanty\nand is not too recent, when the object is to take pupils at an early\nage into the times and places of Jewish, Greek, and Roman antiquity.\nHere the only satisfactory helps are stories that excite a very lively\ninterest; these establish points of support for the realization in\nthought of a time long vanished. There is still lacking, however, a\ncorrect estimate of chronological distances down to our own time. This\nis attained only very gradually through the insertion of intermediate\ndata.\n\n92. Material for the exercise of reflection, and so for the excitation\nof speculative interest, is supplied by whatever in nature, in human\naffairs, in the structure of languages, and in religion, permits us\nto discover, or even merely to surmise, a connection according to\ngeneral laws. But everywhere--the most common school studies, such as\nelementary arithmetic and grammar not excepted--the pupil encounters\nconcepts, judgments, and inferences. But he clings to the particular,\nto the familiar, to the sensuous. The abstract is foreign to his mind;\neven the geometrical figures traced for the eye are to him particular\nthings whose general significance he finds it hard to grasp. The\ngeneral is to displace individual peculiarities in his thoughts; but\nin his habitual thought-series the well-known concrete crowds to the\nfront. Of the general there remains in his mind almost nothing beyond\nthe words used to designate it. Called upon to draw an inference, he\nloses one premise while pondering the next; the teacher is obliged to\ngo back to the beginning again and again, to give examples, and from\nthem lead up to generalizations; to separate and to connect concepts,\nand by degrees to bring the propositions closer to one another. When\nthe middle terms and extremes have been successfully fused in the\npremises, they are still only loosely connected at first. The same\npropositions are repeatedly forgotten, and yet must not be reviewed too\nmany times for fear of killing instead of quickening interest.\n\nSince forgetting cannot be prevented, it is wise to abandon for a time\na large portion of that into which pupils have gained an insight,\nbut later on to go back to the essentials by other paths. The first\npreliminary exercises serve their purpose if the particulars are\nmade to reveal the general before generalizations become the material\nfor technical propositions, and before propositions are combined into\ninference-series. The processes of association (69) must not be omitted\nbetween the first pointing out of common features and the systematic\nteaching of their rational connections.\n\n93. \u00c6sthetic contemplation may, indeed, receive its impulse from many\ninterests other than the \u00e6sthetic, as also from aroused emotions. Art\nitself, however, is possible only in a state of mind sufficiently\ntranquil to permit an accurate and coherent apprehension of the\nsimultaneously beautiful, and to experience the mental activity\ncorresponding to the successively beautiful. \u00c6sthetic objects adapted\nto the pupil\u2019s power of appreciation must be provided; but the teacher\nshould refrain from forcing contemplation. He may, of course, repress\nunseemly manifestations, above all the damaging of objects possessing\n\u00e6sthetic value and entitled to respectful treatment. Frequently\nimitative attempts--although very crude at first--in drawing, singing,\nreading aloud, and, at a later period, in translating, are indications\nof \u00e6sthetic attention. Such efforts may be encouraged, but should not\nbe praised. The genuine warmth of emotion, which in \u00e6sthetic culture\nkindles of itself, is easily vitiated by intensifying artifices. Excess\nof quantity is injurious. Works of art appealing to a higher state of\nculture must not be brought down to a lower plane. Art judgments and\ncriticisms should not be obtruded.\n\n94. The sympathetic interests depend still more on social intercourse\nand family life than the foregoing classes of interests do on\nexperience in the world of sense. If the social environment changes\nfrequently, children cannot become deeply attached anywhere. The mere\nchange of teachers and of schools is fraught with harm. Pupils make\ncomparisons in their own way; authority that is not permanent has\nlittle weight with them, whereas the impulse to throw off restraint\ngains in strength. Instruction is powerless to obviate such evils,\nespecially since instruction itself must often change its form,\nthereby giving the impression of a real difference in teachers. This\nfact makes it all the more necessary that the instruction in history\nimpart to pupils the glow of sympathy due to historical characters and\nevents. For this reason--a reason of momentous significance to the\nwhole process of education--history should not be made to present to\npupils the appearance of a chronological skeleton. This rule should be\nobserved with special care during the earlier lessons in history, since\non these depends largely what sort of impression the whole subject will\nproduce at a future time.\n\nOf religious instruction, needless to say, we demand that it shall\nbring home to pupils the dependent condition of man, and we confidently\nexpect that it will not leave their hearts cold. But historical\ninstruction must co\u00f6perate with religious instruction, otherwise the\ntruths of religion stand isolated, and there is ground for fearing\nthat they will fail to enter as potent factors into the teaching and\nlearning of the remaining subjects.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\n=The Material of Instruction from Different Points of View=\n\n\n95. Differences in point of view give rise to conflicting opinions\nconcerning not only the treatment, but also the choice of\nsubject-matter for instruction. If, now, first one opinion then another\nwins predominance over the rest, the harmony of the purposes underlying\nboth learning and teaching is wanting. Not only that, but the pupils\nsuffer also directly through the lack of consistency where work is\nbegun on one plan and continued on another.\n\n96. The teacher in charge of a given branch of study only too often\nlays out his work without taking account of pedagogical considerations.\nHis specialty, he thinks, suffices to suggest a plan; the successive\nsteps in its organized content will, of course, be the proper sequence\nfor instruction to follow. In teaching a language, he insists that\npupils must master declensions and conjunctions in order that he\nmay read an author with them later. He expects them to understand\nordinary prose before he passes on to elucidate the finished style\nof a poet, etc. In mathematics, he demands that pupils bring to the\nsubject perfect facility in common arithmetic; at a more advanced\nstage they must be able to handle logarithms with ease before formul\u00e6\nrequiring their use are reached, etc. In history, the first thing for\nhim to do is to erect a solid chronological framework to hold the\nhistorical facts to be inserted afterward. For ancient history, he\npresupposes a knowledge of ancient geography, etc. This same view which\nderives the principle determining the sequence of studies from the\ninstruction-material itself, as though it had been unconditionally and\nfinally settled that such and such things _must_ be taught, asserts\nitself on a larger scale in requirements for admission to higher\ngrades or schools. Children are to be able to read, write, and cipher\nwell before being allowed to enter the grammar school; promotions to\nhigher grades are to take place only when the goal set for the grade\nimmediately preceding has been reached. The good pupil, accordingly,\nis one who fits into and willingly submits to these arrangements. The\nnatural consequence of all this is, that little heed is paid to the\ncondition of attention, namely, the gradual progress of interest.\n\n97. But still another consequence ensues, occasioning a different\npoint of view. Pupils are commiserated on the ground that they are\noverburdened. All sorts of doubts spring up as to the wisdom of\nteaching the branches causing the trouble. Their future utility is\ncalled in question. A host of instances is adduced of adults neglecting\nand forgetting--forgetting without appreciable loss--that which it cost\nthem so much toil to learn. Of course, examples showing the opposite\nto be true may also be cited, but that does not settle the question.\nIt cannot be denied that there are many, even among the educated, who\naspire to nothing higher than freedom from care by means of a lucrative\ncalling, or a life of social enjoyment, and who, accordingly, estimate\nthe value of their knowledge by this standard. Such a state of things\nis not mended by a kind of instruction that awakens little interest,\nand that in after years constitutes the dark side of reminiscences\nconnected with early youth.\n\n98. What is urged in reply is, generally speaking, true: youth must be\nkept busy; we cannot let children grow up wild. And their occupation\nhas to be serious and severe, for government (45\u201355) must not be weak.\nBut now, more than ever, doubt fastens on the choice of studies. Might\nnot more useful things be offered for employment?\n\nIf, by way of rejoinder, the ancient languages are commended as being\npre\u00ebminently suited to give pupils diversity of work, this fact is\naccounted for by the faulty methods pursued in teaching the other\nsubjects. With the proper method the same many-sided activity would\nbe called forth. For the modern languages especially, the claim is\nmade that they, too, are language studies involving reading, writing,\ntranslating, and training in the forms of thought. To this argument\nthe unfortunate answer should not be returned, that the classical high\nschools must retain their Latin and Greek because they are educating\nfuture officials to whom the ancient languages are just as useful, nay,\nindispensable, as the modern languages to other classes. For, if the\nclassical studies have once been degraded to the level of the useful\nand necessary, the door is thrown open to those who go a step farther\nstill and demand to know of what use Hebrew is to the country parson,\nand Greek to the practising jurist or physician.\n\n99. Controversies like these have often been conducted as if the\n_humaniora_ or humanistic studies were radically opposed to the\n_realia_ and could not admit them to partnership. In reality, the\nlatter are at least as much a legitimate part of a complete education\nas the former. The whole matter has been made worse by the practice\nof some of the older generation of teachers who, in order to make the\nprescribed studies more palatable, descended to all kinds of amusement\nand play, instead of laying stress on abiding and growing interest. A\nview that regards the end as a necessary evil to be rendered endurable\nby means of sweetmeats, implies an utter confusion of ideas; and if\npupils are not given serious tasks to perform, they will not find out\nwhat they are able to do.\n\nWe must, however, note in this connection that there are legitimate\noccasions even for the sweetening of study, just as in medicine there\nis a place for palliatives, notwithstanding the firm conviction\nof the physician that remedies promising a radical cure deserve\nthe preference. Harmful and reprehensible as habitual playing with\na subject is when it usurps the place of serious and thorough\ninstruction, in cases where a task is not difficult, but seems so to\nthe pupil, it often becomes necessary to start him by a dexterous,\ncheerful, almost playlike presentation of that which he is to imitate.\nSuperfluous prolixity and clumsiness, through the ennui alone that\nthey produce, cause failure in the easiest things. All this applies\nespecially to the teaching of younger children and to the first lessons\nin a new subject, _e.g._, learning to read Greek, the beginning of\nalgebra, etc.\n\n100. If, among the conflicting opinions referred to, there is any\nvital point of controversy, it lies in the _a priori_ assumption that\ncertain subjects must be taught (96). Such an assumption educative\ninstruction cannot allow to be severed from the end aimed at: the\nintellectual self-activity of the pupil. This, and not mere knowledge,\nany more than utility, determines the point of view with regard to\nthe instruction-material. Experience and social intercourse are the\nprimary sources of the pupil\u2019s ideas. It is with reference to these two\nfactors that we estimate strength or weakness in the ideas, and decide\nwhat instruction may accomplish with comparative ease or difficulty,\nat an earlier or at a later period. Good child literature turns to\nthese sources even while children are only just learning to read, and\ngradually enlarges their range of thoughts. Not until this has been\ndone can the question of instruction in one or the other department of\nknowledge claim consideration.\n\n  The term _educative instruction_ frequently occurs. It means,\n  primarily, instruction that has, in the broad sense, an ethical\n  bearing, or an influence upon character. It is based on the idea\n  that, not school discipline alone, but also school instruction in\n  the common branches should be of service to the child in moral and\n  especially in social growth. The studies help to reveal to him his\n  place and function in the world, they form his disposition toward men\n  and things, they give him insight into ethical relations. Instruction\n  that contains this element of moral training is therefore called\n  _educative instruction_ (_Erziehender Unterricht_).\n\n101. The _realia_--natural history, geography, history--possess this\none unquestionable advantage, viz., easy association with experience\nand intercourse. Partially, at least, the pupil\u2019s spontaneous\nideas (71) may go out toward them. Properly used, collections of\nplants, picture-books, maps, will contribute their share. In history,\nthe fondness of youth for stories is utilized. The fact that these\nstories are partly taken from old books written in foreign languages,\nand that these languages were once actually spoken, has often to be\nmentioned in passing, before the study of these languages themselves is\ntaken up, nay, even after they have been begun.\n\nIt is useless to undertake a demonstration of the utility of the\n_realia_. The young do not act for the sake of the more remote\nends. Pupils work when they feel they can do something; and this\nconsciousness of power to do must be created.\n\n  The remark that it is useless to undertake to demonstrate to the\n  young the ultimate utility of natural science studies leads naturally\n  to a distinction between interest in the studies as ultimate ends\n  and as immediate ends. It is suggested in this paragraph that pupils\n  are interested in showing their capacity to accomplish results.\n  It is very evident that one of the teacher\u2019s chief anxieties must\n  be to awaken an interest in the studies as ends, not perhaps in\n  their final utility in life, but as fields in which useful work\n  can be done even in the immediate present. The chief category by\n  which to measure the pupil\u2019s interest in the various activities\n  of the schoolroom is the quality of work that he can be taught to\n  accomplish. One need not go far to learn that children like those\n  studies best in which they can do the best work. This is true in\n  several respects. They are interested in the artistic perfection\n  of what they can accomplish, as in drawing, painting, writing, the\n  arrangement of arithmetical problems, so that the page presents a\n  neat appearance, and so that all the processes are plainly revealed\n  to the eye. They are interested in reading when they can call the\n  words with facility, with neatness, without stumbling, mispronouncing\n  or miscalling--when the tones of the voice are agreeable. The quality\n  of the work, however, which appeals perhaps most powerfully to the\n  children, is that of intellectual comprehension. In the reading class\n  it is a constant delight to discover the finer shades of meaning, to\n  express them with the voice, to detect in others any deviation from\n  the true thought. Reading in English is particularly susceptible\n  to this kind of treatment. For the English language being largely\n  devoid of inflections does not show through the form of the words\n  the finer distinctions of thought, but the mind must perceive these\n  from a text largely devoid of grammatical inflections. It is quite\n  possible, therefore, to read in such a manner as to miss all but the\n  most salient points of the matter presented. There is in reading an\n  intensive and an extensive magnitude. Our older method of teaching\n  reading was to devote the time to a few extracts from literary\n  masterpieces, which were exhausted by minute study. The more recent\n  tendency in elementary education is to neglect this side of reading\n  and to devote the time to the cursory reading, not of extracts, but\n  of whole masterpieces of literature. The danger of such a proceeding\n  is that the finer qualities of reading will be neglected for the\n  sake of quantitative mastery of a large amount of reading matter. A\n  middle course between the two would doubtless bring better results.\n  It would, on the one hand, secure an interest that attaches to\n  masterpieces as wholes, and, on the other, the literary appreciation\n  that comes from minute analysis both in thought and expression of the\n  finer distinctions of thought. In mathematical studies, the \u00e6sthetic\n  interest of form, or the active interest of actual performance of\n  problems, is not the sole or even the chief interest that should\n  be appealed to. But the pupil should feel that he is making a\n  progressive mastery of the principles of number. It is a pleasure to\n  apply a rule, to solve a problem neatly; but it is a still greater\n  pleasure to comprehend thoroughly the meaning of the rule, to grasp\n  and to feel its universality, so that although it is not worth while,\n  as Herbart suggests, to urge the ultimate function of mathematics\n  in the life of the world, it is quite worth while to set up those\n  immediate ends of interest such as appear in the activity of solving\n  problems, in the \u00e6sthetic appearance of the work upon paper or board\n  or slate, and in the comprehension of mathematical principles. These\n  ends are near at hand; they can be made to appeal to the pupil\n  through the quality of the work that the teacher demands of him.\n  The same is true in the natural sciences. Even though the ultimate\n  function of biology is an idea too remote or too complex for the\n  child to grasp with enthusiasm, the immediate mastery of a principle\n  in physics, or the discovery of a law of plant life, or of a fact in\n  chemistry, may be an end in which the pupil\u2019s most intense interest\n  can be excited.\n\n102. Geometry has other advantages of association, advantages we have\nbegun only recently to turn to account in earnest. Figures made of\nwood or pasteboard, drawings, pegs, bars, flexible wires, strings, the\nuse of the ruler, of compasses, of the square, counted coins arranged\nin long or short, in parallel or diverging series,--all these may be\noffered to the eye _ad libitum_ and connected with other concrete\nobjects. They may be made the basis of systematic employment and\nexercises, and this will be done more and more when the fact is once\ngrasped that concrete ideas possessing the _proper degree of strength_\nconstitute the surest foundation of a branch of instruction whose\nsuccess depends on the manner in which the pupil forms in his mind the\nideas of spatial relations. This is not grasped, of course, by those\nwho regard space once for all as a form of sense-perception common\nto all minds alike. A careful study of the data of experience will\nconvince the practical educator that the opposite is true; for in this\nrespect individual differences are very marked. Pupils rarely hit upon\ngeometrical constructions unaided; the aptitude for drawing, that is,\nfor imitating the objects seen, is met with more often.\n\nIt is easy by abstraction to form arithmetical concepts out of the\napprehension of geometrical relations. To do so should not be regarded\nas superfluous, not even when the pupil has already fully entered upon\nhis work in arithmetic.\n\n103. To Germans the two ancient classical languages do not offer the\nadvantages of easy transition. On the other hand, the study of Latin,\neven if only moderately advanced, prepares the soil for the most\nindispensable modern foreign languages. Herein lies an argument against\nbeginning with French, as was often done formerly. The linking of\nLatin to French will, moreover, hardly win the approval of students of\nlanguages, since, not to mention other reasons, Gallicisms are a source\nof no little danger to Latinity.\n\nThe ancient languages require long-continued labor. This fact alone\nrenders it advisable to begin them early. The strangeness of Latin for\nGermans should not lead to the conclusion that the study of Latin\nshould be commenced late, but rather that during the earlier years of\nboyhood it should be carried on slowly. The sounds of foreign languages\nmust be heard early, in order that the strangeness may wear off. Single\nLatin words will be easily mastered even by a child. These may soon\nbe followed by short sentences consisting of two or three words. No\nmatter if they are forgotten again for a time. That which is said to\nbe forgotten is not on that account lost. The real difficulty lies in\nthe multitude of strange elements that accumulate in relatively long\nsentences; it lies also in the many ways of connecting subordinate\nclauses, in the qualifying insertions, in the order of words, and in\nthe structure of the period. Furthermore, we must not overlook the fact\nthat children are very slow to acquire the use of dependent clauses,\neven in German; their speech for a long time consists merely of a\nstringing together of the simplest sentences. The attempt to advance\nthem more rapidly in the syntactical forms of Latin than is possible in\ntheir mother-tongue is a waste of time; and, besides, their inclination\nto study is put to a very severe test.\n\n  Perhaps the most serious defect of secondary education in the United\n  States is its brevity. Languages are not begun until the pupil is\n  well on to fifteen years old. A reform most urgently needed in this\n  country is the extension of high school influence to the two grades\n  of the grammar school lying immediately below the high school. This\n  would enable pupils to begin foreign languages at about the age of\n  twelve, or two years later than they are now begun in Germany.\n\n104. The foregoing remarks show plainly enough that in educative\ninstruction some subjects will be found a comparatively easy and sure\nmeans of awakening intellectual activity, while others involve a more\nstrenuous effort, which, under certain circumstances, may end in\nfailure. The concrete studies are nearest to the pupil; mathematics\nrequires some apparatus to render it tangible and vivid; to get pupils\nstarted properly in modern languages can be but a slow process. But\nthis difference is, after all, not fundamental enough, nor does it\naffect the whole course of instruction sufficiently, to constitute a\nserious pedagogical objection to the study of foreign languages, so\nlong as there is time to teach them. Their fruits mature later.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\n=The Process of Instruction=\n\n\n105. Whether or not instruction will begin well and go on properly\ndepends on a combination of three factors,--the teacher, the pupil,\nand the subject taught. Failure of the subject-matter to excite the\npupil\u2019s interest is followed by evil consequences moving in a circle.\nThe pupil seeks to avoid the task set for him; he remains silent\nor returns wrong answers; the teacher insists on getting a correct\nanswer; the lesson is at a standstill; the pupil\u2019s dislike grows more\nintense. To conquer dislike and indolence, the teacher now refuses\naltogether the assistance he could give; as best he may, he compels\nthe pupil to collect his thoughts, to work by himself, to prepare his\nlesson, to memorize, even to apply in written exercises what he knows\nbut imperfectly, etc. The presentation proper has come to an end; at\nall events it has ceased to be consecutive. Now the right kind of an\nexample is wanting, which the teacher should set--one of reading,\nthinking, writing, that implies complete absorption in the subject.\nAnd yet it is this example concretely illustrating how to take hold of\nthe subject, how to present it, and how to associate it with related\nsubjects, which effects the best results in good instruction. The\nteacher must set such an example, the pupil must imitate it as well as\nhe can; the teacher must render him active assistance.\n\n106. Instruction is either synthetic or analytic. In general, the term\n_synthetic_ may be applied wherever the teacher himself determines\ndirectly the sequence and grouping of the parts of the lesson; the term\n_analytic_, wherever the pupil\u2019s own thoughts are expressed first, and\nthese thoughts, such as they chance to be, are then, with the teacher\u2019s\nhelp, analyzed, corrected, and supplemented. But there are many things\nunder this head that need to be defined and discriminated more sharply.\nThere are analyses of experience, of facts learned in school, and of\nopinions. There is one kind of synthesis which imitates experience;\nthere is another kind which consists in constructing designedly a whole\nwhose component parts have been presented one by one previously.\n\nHere, again, many differences arise, owing to diversities inherent in\nthe subject-matter.\n\n107. Since instruction builds on the pupil\u2019s experience, we shall deal\nfirst with that form of synthesis which imitates, or copies experience.\nWe may name it _purely presentative instruction_. The term _synthetic_,\non the other hand, will henceforth be reserved for that form of\ninstruction which reveals clearly the process of building up a whole\nout of parts presented singly beforehand.\n\nThe purely presentative method of instruction, although practicable\nonly to a limited extent, is nevertheless so effectual as to entitle it\nto separate treatment, so effectual that the teacher--and this is the\nmain thing--will do well to train himself carefully in its use. Skill\nin this direction is the surest means of securing interest.\n\nIt is customary to demand that the pupil acquire facility in narration\nand description, but we ought not to forget that here above all the\nteacher must lead the way by setting a good example. To be sure, there\nis an abundance of printed narrative and description, but reading does\nnot produce the effect that hearing does. _Viva vox docet._ As a rule,\nwe cannot take for granted that a boy has even the skill and patience\nrequired for reading; and if perfect facility has been attained, the\nreading is done too rapidly. There is too much hurry to get to the\nend, or too much delay over the wrong passages, so that the connection\nis lost. At the most, we may let the pupils that read exceptionally\nwell read aloud to the class. By far the surer means to the end in\nview is the oral presentation by the teacher. But in order that such\npresentation may produce its effect undisturbed, it needs to be\nperfectly free and untrammelled.\n\n108. The first requisite for free oral presentation is a cultivated\nstyle of speaking. Many teachers need to be warned against the use\nof set phrases, against mere expletives, faulty enunciation, pauses\nfilled in with inarticulate sounds, against fragments of sentences,\nclumsy parentheses, etc.\n\nIn the second place, adaptation of the vocabulary employed, both to the\nsubject-matter and to the intelligence of the pupils, and adjustment of\nphraseology to the pupil\u2019s stage of culture are essential.\n\nLastly, careful memorizing. At first this should be done almost\nverbatim. At all events, the teacher must prepare his lesson as though\nhe had his pupils before him and were talking to them. Later on he\nmust memorize at least the facts and turning-points of the subject to\nbe presented, in order that he may not be compelled to consult books\nor look at notes. A few remarks on some particular points will be made\nfarther on.\n\n109. The effect of the teacher\u2019s narrative and description should be to\nmake the pupil realize events and objects as vividly as if they were\nactually present to his eye and ear. The pupil must, therefore, have\nactually heard and seen much previously. This recalls to our minds the\nnecessity, pointed out before, of first enlarging the young pupil\u2019s\nrange of experience, when found too limited, through excursions and\nthe exhibition of objects. Again, this form of instruction is adapted\nonly to things that might be heard or seen. We must therefore avail\nourselves of all the help pictures can give.\n\nIf the presentation has been a success, the reproduction by the pupils\nwill show that they recall, not merely the main facts, but largely even\nthe teacher\u2019s language. They have retained more exactly than they have\nbeen asked to do. Besides, the teacher who narrates and describes well\ngains a strong hold on the affections of his pupils; he will find them\nmore obedient in matters pertaining to discipline.\n\n  The foregoing paragraphs on presentative instruction may seem strange\n  to the American teacher. We must remember, however, that they were\n  written before the modern era of text-books, when, in point of fact,\n  the teacher was practically the sole reliance for the facts that the\n  children were to learn. It is the custom, even to the present, in\n  the lower schools of Germany, to rely very largely upon the teacher\n  for the information which the children are to acquire. In American\n  schools, this method is not followed, for so enormous has been the\n  development of text-book industry, that in every field of education\n  the richest material is offered to the schools in the form of\n  text-books. There is, however, still a legitimate field for purely\n  presentative instruction in the earlier grades of the elementary\n  school, especially in literature and in the beginnings of history.\n  The most primitive method of instruction, as we see clearly in the\n  earlier periods of Grecian education, was the narrative. The children\n  of those days received their instruction in history, mythology,\n  literature, geography, by listening to the tales of heroes and\n  heroic deeds narrated by their parents, by wandering minstrels and\n  rhapsodists. To this day, the teacher who can narrate biographical\n  or literary matter in an attractive manner is sure to awaken intense\n  interest in the children under her control. Perhaps one facility\n  which the modern teacher needs to acquire more than any other is\n  the capacity of happy, vivacious, interesting narrative cast, at\n  the same time, into simple yet excellent literary form. Such a\n  teacher is an undoubted treasure in the primary school. There is\n  occasion, moreover, in nearly all school study for the presentation\n  of supplementary material in almost every school study. This is true\n  especially in literature and history. It is also true in geography\n  and in mathematics, as where, for instance, the teacher narrates the\n  methods of the ancient Egyptians in the development of geometrical\n  ideas, or those of the Greeks. If one is teaching a foreign language,\n  one may always find happy opportunities for introducing bits of\n  history, biography, or other illuminating material. In the sciences\n  nothing is more interesting to children, more stimulative of renewed\n  effort, than narratives concerning our great scientists, their desire\n  for education, their struggle to attain knowledge, their misfortunes,\n  and their triumphs. Every aspect of instruction may be supplemented\n  and illumined by instruction given in the purely presentative form of\n  narration.\n\n110. While skilful presentation produces results akin to an extension\nof the pupil\u2019s range of actual experience, analysis helps to make\nexperience more instructive. For, left to itself, experience is not a\nteacher whose instruction is systematic. It does not obey the law of\nactual progress from the simple to the complex. Things and events crowd\nin upon the mind in masses; the result is often chaotic apprehension.\nInasmuch, then, as experience presents aggregates before it gives the\ncomponent particulars, it becomes the task of instruction to reverse\nthis order and to adjust the facts of experience to the sequence\ndemanded in teaching. Experience, it is true, associates its content;\nbut if this earlier association is to have the share in the work of the\nschool that it should have, that which has been experienced and that\nwhich has been learned must be made to harmonize. With this end in view\nwe need to supplement experience. The facts it has furnished have to\nbe made clearer and more definite than they are, and must be given an\nappropriate embodiment in language.\n\n111. Let us consider first the earliest stage of analytic instruction.\nIn order to understand the significance of this method of teaching, we\nmust examine the nature of a child\u2019s experience. Children are indeed\nin the habit of familiarizing themselves with their surroundings; but\nthe strongest impressions predominate. Objects in motion have greater\nattraction for them than objects at rest. They tear up and destroy\nwithout troubling themselves much about the real connection between\nthe parts of a whole. In spite of their many why\u2019s and what for\u2019s,\nthey make use of every tool or utensil without regard for its purpose;\nthey are satisfied if it serves the impulse of the moment. Their eyes\nare keen, but they rarely observe; the real character of things does\nnot deter them from making a plaything of everything, as their fancy\nmay direct, and from making one thing stand for every other thing.\nThey receive total impressions of similar objects, but do not derive\nconcepts; the abstract does not enter their minds of itself.\n\nThese and similar observations, however, apply by no means equally to\nevery child. On the contrary, children differ greatly from one another;\nand, with the child\u2019s individuality, his one-sidedness already begins.\n\n112. It follows at once that the first thing to be done, in a school\nwhere many children are to be taught together, is to make the children\nmore alike in their knowledge. To this end the store of experiences\nwhich they bring with them must be worked over. But the homogeneity of\npupils, desirable as it is, is not the sole aim. We must take care also\nthat the whole of instruction acts upon the particular stock of ideas\nof each pupil taken individually. We must seek those points of contact\nand departure to which attention has repeatedly been called above, and\nhence cannot leave the pupil\u2019s mass of ideas in its original crude\nstate. Thoughtful teachers have long since testified to the necessity\nof this requirement, which mere scholars in their zeal for learning\nfail again and again to appreciate.\n\nNiemeyer, in his widely read work, opens his treatment of the\nparticular laws of instruction with a chapter entitled: \u201cThe First\nSteps in awakening Attention and Reflection through Instruction,\nor Exercises in Thinking.\u201d These exercises are no other than the\nelementary processes of analytic instruction. He says: \u201cWhen the age,\nthe health, and the strength of children have made instruction proper\nseem expedient, the first lesson should be one of the kind described\nin the chapter heading. Such exercises might be profitably continued\nin some form or other until the ninth or tenth year, and probably even\nlater. The fact that it is not easy to describe them in a word very\nlikely explains why we fail to find them in most programmes of private\nand public schools. That at last some attention is being given even\nin the common schools to this matter is one of the venerable Canon\nRochow\u2019s imperishable services to education.\u201d\n\nPestalozzi, in his book for mothers, strikes out in the same direction.\nIt will not serve the purpose, to be sure, to confine oneself, as he\ndoes, to a single object; still, the kind of exercises is indicated\nvery definitely by him; indeed, more definitely, in some ways, than by\nNiemeyer.\n\n113. The notions of pupils about surrounding objects, that is, notions\nin which the strongest impressions predominate (111), must be made to\napproach uniformity first. This is accomplished by uniform reproduction.\n\nOn this point Niemeyer says, \u201cThe teacher should begin by talking with\nhis pupils about those objects which are, at the time, affecting their\nsenses directly. Pointing to these objects, he asks the pupils to name\nthem. He then passes on to things that are not present, but that the\nchildren have seen or felt before. At the same time he exercises their\npowers of imagination and expression by making them enumerate what they\nare able to recall. Suitable material: everything in the schoolroom;\nthe human body; everything pertaining to food, dress, comfort; things\nfound in the fields, in the garden, in the yard; animals and plants so\nfar as they are known by the children.\u201d\n\n114. The next step consists in pointing out the main facts of a given\nwhole, the relative position of these parts, their connection, and\ntheir movability, if they can be moved without damage. To this are\nproperly linked the simplest facts concerning the uses of things. At\nthe same time children are taught how they must _not_ use things, and\nhow, instead of ruining them, they ought to look after them and use\nthem with care. The abundance and number of things, their size, form,\nand weight, should likewise be referred to as early as this stage, and\nshould furnish occasion for comparisons.\n\nBut something more is needed to give distinctness to the ideas of\npupils, and to prepare the way for future abstract thinking. Beginning\nfirst with the objects, we derive from them the predicates by searching\nout the attributes; this done, we must in turn make the predicates\nour starting-point, and classify the objects under the heads thus\nobtained. This distinction has been made before by Pestalozzi; it is\none of fundamental importance in the preparation for generalization.\nWhile engaged in such work pupils will of themselves learn to compare,\nto discriminate, and, in some instances, to observe more accurately:\nerroneous notions due to an active imagination will be corrected by the\nappeal to experience as the source of knowledge.\n\n115. Of what remains to be done, the most important task consists in\nsecuring a comprehensive view of a somewhat extended time-series, of\nwhich objects, together with their natural or artificial origins,\nare members. An elementary knowledge will thus be gained, especially\nof the simplest facts about manufacturing processes, and about\nintercourse among human beings, which facts will serve subsequently as\nthe groundwork for instruction in natural history and geography. But\nfor history also the way must be prepared by referring, although only\nin the most general way, to times when the utensils and tools of the\npresent had not yet been invented, when the arts of to-day were as yet\nunknown, and when people were still without those materials that are\nnow imported from foreign countries.\n\n116. It does not follow, because no definite periods are set apart\nfor the instruction described, that it is not being given at all. We\nmay find it incorporated, to a large extent, with something else,\nparticularly with the interpretation of elementary reading matter,\nwhich forms part of the first work in the mother-tongue. Nevertheless,\na subject that is taught only incidentally is always liable to suffer,\nif not from indifference, at least from inadequate treatment.\n\nOn the other hand, we cannot fail to recognize that the appointment\nof separate periods for analytic instruction may prove difficult,\nowing to the fact that the rate of progress depends so largely on\nthe stock of ideas pupils bring with them, and on their readiness to\nutter what they think and feel. Besides, while Niemeyer expressly\nsays, \u201cChildren taught in this manner know nothing of tedium,\u201d he also\nhastens to add, \u201cbut it is easy to spoil them by too rapid changes\nof subject.\u201d The same, or similar bad consequences, may result from\nother school exercises where the teacher himself supplies a profusion\nof instruction-material, and so relieves his pupils of the trouble of\ngathering such material from their own recollections. On the whole,\ntherefore, it will be well enough to set apart but few hours, or weeks,\nfor the first attempts; and these can be made a part of the lessons in\nthe mother-tongue.\n\nIn private instruction the difficulty spoken of is not encountered.\nBesides, the ample opportunities afforded for observing the pupil\u2019s\nstore of ideas make it easy to devise a suitable plan for the earliest\nanalytic teaching.\n\n  In the foregoing paragraphs on analytical instruction, the question\n  naturally arises, \u201cIs such instruction to be regarded as an end\n  in itself, or as a means for preparing the mind for more perfect\n  assimilation of the subject-matter to be presented from day to day in\n  the various studies?\u201d Since the time these paragraphs were written,\n  not only Germany herself, but also America has gone through a varied\n  experience with respect to what we call object teaching. It was at\n  one time conceived that a specific hour should be set apart each day\n  for instructing the children in the observation of objects. In other\n  words, object lessons were a distinct part of the programme. It was\n  supposed that in this way the children could be made conscious of the\n  significance of their environment, and that it was highly desirable\n  that such an end should be brought about. In Germany the same effort\n  was undertaken under the name of _Anschauungsunterricht_, but since\n  the multiplication of text-books, and the increased pressure upon\n  the schools brought about through the introduction of new subjects\n  of study, it has been found inadvisable to devote a specific period\n  of the day to isolated analytic instruction upon objects. Such\n  instruction, however, has by no means passed from the field of\n  usefulness, even in our very best schools. The necessity of appealing\n  powerfully to previous experience, in and out of the schoolroom, as a\n  basis for understanding a matter presented in the daily lessons, is\n  everywhere recognized. From being an end of school work, therefore,\n  analytic instruction has passed to the realm of a useful means for\n  arousing the mental activity of the children concerning the regular\n  lessons of the schoolroom. It is, in modern terms, an apperceptive\n  basis for all instruction.\n\n117. At a later time analytic instruction reappears in other forms,\nthose of review and the correction of written exercises. The teacher\nhas presented a body of facts; he has furnished the helps necessary for\nthe solution of certain problems. What he has given, the pupils are\nexpected to produce again in their review exercises and essays. Where\nnecessary, their work is analyzed and corrected.\n\nIn conducting reviews a pedagogical blunder is apt to be made--a\nblunder that brings on the evils specified in a former paragraph (105);\nreview is confounded with examination. The two are radically different.\nIf the teacher could be sure of both perfect attention and full\ncomprehension, he himself would go over the ground covered by his first\ntalk once more for the purpose of assisting the memory; the pupils\nwould not be called upon to take part. In this case, we should have\nneither analytic instruction nor anything resembling an examination.\nAs a matter of fact, however, pupils are usually asked to reproduce\nwhat and as much as they remember. This is easily taken to mean that\nthey should have retained everything, which, strictly speaking, is\nnot expected even in an examination. The purpose of an examination is\nto ascertain the actual state of knowledge, whatever it may prove to\nbe; reviews are conducted for the purpose of increasing and deepening\nknowledge. If an examination is followed by praise or censure, well and\ngood; a review has nothing to do with either.\n\nSince reviewing and drilling, which resembles the former, claim the\nlarger portion of the time devoted to school work, it will be worth\nwhile to examine the subject somewhat more closely.\n\n118. Repetition of several ideas intensifies those ideas. It does\nmore than that. If they are of opposed nature, the reciprocal arrest\nthat ensues resists their fusion less during the reproduction than\nit did in the original act of apprehension. The fusion increases in\ncompleteness, and, besides, becomes more uniform, _i.e._, the weaker\nideas hold their own better alongside of the stronger. Again, if a\nseries of successive ideas is repeated, the first members of the series\nof themselves tend to reproduce those that follow before the latter are\nrepeated--a tendency gathering energy in proportion to the frequency of\nrepetition. This fact underlies the increase in rapidity which comes\nwith growing skill. Extraneous thoughts, however, very easily interrupt\nthe psychical process of reproduction.\n\nLet us assume that the teacher\u2019s presentation has been an adequate one\nand has lasted no longer than the capacity of the pupils permitted,\nonly a few minutes, perhaps. He himself might now repeat; but asks\nhis pupils to do so, lest their thoughts begin to wander from the\nsubject in hand. He comes to their aid and repeats only when their own\nattempts have failed. But very often they have retained some things and\nforgotten others. In this case it becomes his business to reinforce\nthe ideas striving to rise into consciousness, but without disturbing\ntheir movement. In other words, he should prompt neither more nor less,\nshould lend aid neither sooner nor later, than will serve to make the\npupil\u2019s train of thought coincide as nearly as possible with that of\nthe presentation properly given. Unless this is done, the reproduction\nfails to effect the required association and facility. The same ground\nis gone over again and again in vain; fatigue sets in, and the wrong\nassociation takes place--a matter for grave apprehension. If the pupils\nare in an unresponsive mood, the teacher must go slow, for the time\nbeing; if interest is lacking, he cannot incite the proper movement of\nideas. If the teacher is not conducting the repetition with skill, the\nfragmentary answers of the pupils indicate well enough after a time\nthat the desired current of thought has not been generated.\n\n119. We have taken it for granted that the presentation was an adequate\none--one that might serve as a model (105). Where this adjustment of\nmeans and ends extends, as it may, even to the language, the latter\nshould be closely followed in the repetition, but without pedantic\ninsistence on unimportant details. But very frequently the essential\nfeature of the presentation is found in the sequence of thought. In\nthat case expression will vary, and the teacher is satisfied at first\nif, in repeating, the pupils furnish evidence that they understand; he\nallows them to use their own words, though less appropriate. He must,\nstill, however, look carefully after the given sequence, which the\nrepetition is to reproduce with the greatest possible coherence.\n\n120. The case is different when later on larger sections of a course\nof successful instruction are to be repeated. During all the earlier\nstage particular facts were moved far apart (68) for the sake of\nclearness; by means of conversation, or of incidental mention in other\nrecitations, or through experience itself (110), provision was made\nalso for association of various kinds. Now it becomes the business of\nrepetition in the first place to gather together into a smaller compass\nwhat has been expanded; next it subserves the purpose of systematic\narrangement, and lastly, is often of use for making the instruction\nmore complete and for adding the difficult to the comparatively easy.\nHere the mode of presentation itself changes to meet the requirements\nof a more advanced grade of work. But repetition immediately after\nthe presentation, or, perhaps, during the next hour, will, as a rule,\nremain necessary even at this higher stage.\n\n121. Here, where compression and insertions are to modify the material\nof instruction, we need to inquire into the forms of connection\npeculiar to the objects, together with those essential for use, and to\ndetermine accordingly the series and web of ideas to be formed in the\nmind of the pupil. For such organization of ideas, repetition is, at\nall events, far better adapted than presentation, which can traverse\nonly one of several series at a time, and which passes into repetition\nthe moment an effort is made to bring the other series forward also.\nIn natural history, for example, various classifications occur, in\nhistory the ethnographic divisions are crossed by the synchronistic,\nwhile the history of culture demands yet another basis of association;\nin geography each noted city is to be a landmark, enabling the pupil\nto take his bearings in every direction, but cities on rivers suggest\nriver basins and mountain ranges; in mathematics each theorem is to\nbe kept ready for separate application, but it has also its special\nplace in the chain of demonstrations; grammatical rules, too, should be\navailable when called for, but it is very necessary at the same time\nthat the pupil become perfectly at home in his grammar and know where\nto look for information.\n\nThe teacher who, by skilful repetition, does justice to these multiform\nassociations, is not always the one who shows most skill in systematic\npresentation, and who knows best how to make prominent the main\nthoughts, and to link to them those that are subordinate.\n\n122. The impulse to repeat must, as a rule, come from points with\nwhich pupils are familiar. It is further requisite that the teacher,\nin conducting the repetition, adapt himself to their train of thought;\nhe must not adhere strictly to an inflexible plan. The necessary\ncorrections require delay here and there; the corrected statements\noften constitute new points from which to take bearings. At times\nthe pupils themselves should feel free to indicate which topics it\nseems most necessary to repeat. By so doing they assume a certain\nresponsibility as to the rest, and are made to realize all the more\ntheir obligation to make up deficiencies.\n\n123. The correction of written work likewise falls under the head of\nanalytic instruction, but the toil exceeds the profit if written work\nis demanded too early. While writing the pupil consolidates his ideas.\nNow if he does so incorrectly, the effect is mischievous, his mistakes\ncling to him. Moreover, the teacher has to be on his guard lest, while\norally correcting and reading over the composition, he overestimate\nthe pupil\u2019s attention. When many slips occur, when a whole forest of\nmistakes is found to have sprung up, the pupil becomes indifferent\nto them all; they make humble, but they also dishearten. Such tasks\nshould, therefore, be very brief, if the pupil is weak; nay, it is\npreferable to have none at all, as long as progress is being made more\nsurely by a different kind of exercises.\n\nThe teacher who assigns home work with a view to saving labor in school\nmiscalculates utterly; his work will soon have become all the harder.\n\nTo many it seems that the exercises they assign should be very\neasy, rather than short; and to make them easy, outlines, turns of\nexpression, everything, is indicated as definitely as possible. This\nis a delusion. If composition has any purpose, it consists in making\nthe pupil try to see what he can do without the teacher. Now if the\npupil actually gets started on the exercise, the teacher ought not to\nstep in his way with all sorts of prescriptions. If the pupil fails to\nmake headway, the attempt was premature. We must either wait or else\nshorten the task, no matter if it should shrink to no more than three\nlines. Three lines of the pupil\u2019s own work are better than three pages\nwritten by direction. It may take years before the self-deception due\nto leading-string methods is superseded by a true estimate of the\npupil\u2019s actual power.\n\n124. The case is quite different if, before writing, the pupil has been\nassisted orally in developing his thoughts. This kind of analysis is of\nspecial importance in later boyhood; but the teacher should see to it\nthat the pupil gives free expression to his own opinion. If he does,\na theme has been furnished for discussion during which the teacher\nwill avoid harsh dissent in proportion to his eagerness to accomplish\nsomething with his pupil. To rebuke presuming boldness or impudence is\na different matter, of course.\n\nSelf-chosen themes are preferable by far to those that are assigned,\nonly they cannot be expected of the majority of pupils. But when they\ndo turn up, the character of the choice alone, but still more the\nexecution, will throw light on the opinions current among the pupils,\nand on the impressions which not only the school, but experience and\nsociety as well, have been constantly at work to produce. The writer\u2019s\nindividuality reveals itself even more distinctly. Every teacher must\nbe prepared to come upon these individual traits, however much he\nmight prefer to have his pupils reflect himself. It would be futile if\nhe attempted to correct their essays by interpolating his own view;\nhe would not by that means make the latter their own. The mode of\ntreatment can be corrected; but other opportunities will have to serve\nfor the rectification of opinions--provided this can ever be undertaken\nsuccessfully.\n\n125. With regard to synthetic instruction, we assume at the outset\nthat it will be supported during the whole course of training by the\nmerely presentative and the analytic methods of teaching, wherever\nthese are in place. Otherwise the ultimate result will always remain\nproblematical, particularly the union of learning and life.\n\nSynthetic instruction brings in much that is new and strange; and\nwe must take advantage of the universal charm of novelty. It must\nco\u00f6perate with acquired habits of application, and with the interest\npeculiar to each subject taught. The affairs, not of Italy alone, but\nalso those of Greece and the Orient, have become a matter of everyday\ndiscussion. There has been a general diffusion of knowledge about the\nfacts and laws of nature. Hence even younger children cannot help but\npick up many things now that will tend to forestall the indifference or\naversion with which school studies were regarded not longer than fifty\nyears ago. They seemed to be something foreign to life. At present, it\ncannot prove difficult to turn curiosity in the direction of distant\nlands, and of past ages even, especially where collections of rare\narticles and antiquities are accessible. This stimulation would not\npersist long, however, in the face of the labor of learning, if there\ndid not exist at the same time a widespread conviction of the necessity\nof study, a conviction reinforced by the legal requirements of schools,\nparticularly of the gymnasia. Accordingly, families exert a good\ninfluence with respect to the industry of children; and with the right\nsort of government and training in school, willingness to learn is\neasily secured. Less easy is it to incite a genuinely scientific desire\nto know, one that will endure beyond examinations. This brings us back\nto many-sidedness of interest (83\u201394). If interest were not already the\nend of instruction, we should have to look upon it as the only means\nwhereby the results of teaching can be given permanence.\n\nInterest depends partly, it is true, on native capacity, which the\nschool cannot create; but it depends also on the subject-matter of\ninstruction.\n\n126. Synthetic instruction must offer subjects capable of arousing\nlasting and spontaneously radiating interest. That which affords only\ntemporary pleasure or light entertainment is of too little consequence\nto determine the plan of operation. Nor can the choice of such studies\nbe recommended as stand isolated, as do not lead to continued effort;\nfor, other reasons aside, we are unable to decide beforehand to\nwhich of the main classes of interest (83\u201394) the individual pupil\nwill especially incline. The first place belongs rather to those\nstudies which appeal to the mind in a variety of ways and are capable\nof stimulating each pupil according to his individuality. For such\nsubjects ample time must be allowed; they must be made the object\nof prolonged, diligent effort. We may then hope that they will take\nhold in some way, and we shall be in a position to know what kind of\ninterest they have inspired in one pupil or another. Where, on the\ncontrary, the end of the thread of work is soon reached, it remains\nquestionable whether any effort at all will be produced, let alone a\nlasting impression.\n\n127. The subject-matter having been chosen, the treatment must be\nadjusted to it in such a way as to bring it within reach of the pupils.\nFor the exercises growing out of such treatment, the well-known\nrule holds in general: the easy before the difficult, or, more\nspecifically, that which prepares the way before that which cannot\nbe firmly grasped without preliminary knowledge. To insist, however,\non perfect mastery in this respect, is often equivalent to scaring\naway interest. Absolute proficiency in preliminary knowledge is a\nlate achievement, nor is it attained without fatigue. The teacher has\nto be satisfied if the mastery acquired is such that what is lacking\ncan, without serious delay, be added by him in practice. To make the\nroad so level as to do away entirely with the necessity for occasional\nleaps (96), means to provide for the convenience of the teacher rather\nthan for that of the pupils. The young love to climb and jump; they\ndo not take kindly to an absolutely level path. But they are afraid\nin the dark. There must be light enough for them to see by; in other\nwords, the subject must lie spread out before their eyes with such\ndistinctness that each step is seen to be a step forward, which brings\nthem perceptibly nearer to a distant goal.\n\n128. With regard to the sequence of studies we need to distinguish\nfirst of all between preparatory knowledge and ability to do. As is\nwell known, the latter, even when it has been fully attained, can\nbe secured against loss only by long-continued practice. Hence the\npractice of the pupil\u2019s skill must go on constantly from the time\nwhen he first learns to apply what he knows. But merely preliminary\nknowledge, which produced fatigue before it was mastered, may be\nallowed to drop out of the memory. Enough remains to make it easier\nto resume the subject at a later time (92, 103). Accordingly, not the\npreliminary knowledge just referred to, but the pupil\u2019s facility in\ndoing, supplies the principle determining sequence. In the case of all\nessential elementary information--knowledge of rudiments of grammar,\narithmetic, and geometry--it will be found expedient to begin with\nthe simplest elements long before any practical application is made.\nIn such first lessons individual facts only are presented. These are\nmade clear to the pupils (68, 69); here and there they are associated.\nFatigue is avoided if possible. Even if the earliest attempts at\nmemorizing should prove successful, it will be safer, instead of\nrelying on this fact, to postpone the whole matter for a time. At a\nlater period the same subject is resumed from the beginning without\nany demand on the teacher\u2019s part that some things should have been\nretained. This time, however, it will be possible to introduce a\nsomewhat larger quantity of the instruction-material, and it will not\nbe too early to make pupils perceive the connection between individual\nfacts. If pupils experience difficulty in comprehending, we should\nbe careful not to advance too rapidly; the greater the difficulty,\nthe greater the need for caution. When the time comes for practical\napplication, an earnest, diligent effort must be insisted on, but only\nfor tasks of moderate length, and without exacting too much by harsh\nmeans. Not every pupil can do everything. Sometimes a pupil will at a\nlater period acquire the power he does not possess now, if only his\nchances for success have not been spoiled by earlier blindness on the\npart of his teacher.\n\n129. Again, corresponding to each stage of instruction, there is a\ncertain capacity for apperceiving attention (77) which deserves careful\nconsideration. For we ought to avail ourselves of the comparatively\neasy in order to facilitate indirectly what would otherwise prove\ndifficult and time-consuming.\n\nWe need to distinguish between insertion and continuation, and to\nconnect this distinction with the division of ideas into spontaneous\nand induced (71). It is easier to fill in between familiar points than\nit is to continue, because the continued series is in close contact\nwith the well known only at the starting-point. Easiest of all is\ninsertion between free-rising ideas, between those ideas that occur\nto the pupil spontaneously, when he has been led into a certain field\nof consciousness. Hardest of all, and least certain of success, is\nthe continuation of lessons that can be revived in consciousness only\nby a laborious effort of memory. Intermediate in difficulty are the\ninsertion of new elements between induced or reproduced ideas, and\ncontinuation on the basis of free-rising, or spontaneous, ideas. That\nthere may be many gradations besides is of course self-evident.\n\nThe teacher who knows his pupils well will be able to make frequent use\nof these distinctions. Only a very general outline of their application\ncan be given here.\n\nThe realia and mathematics can be connected more easily than other\nstudies with the pupil\u2019s experience (101, 102). If the teacher has\nproperly availed himself of this advantage, he may count on ideas\nthat rise spontaneously, and his task will then consist in first\nestablishing a few suitable cardinal points so that insertions may be\nmade farther on.\n\nLanguages present more serious difficulties. It is true that progress\nin the vernacular is made through apperception by the pupil\u2019s earlier\nattainments in his mother-tongue, and through the insertion of the new\ninto the old. But in foreign languages, which associate themselves\nwith the mother-tongue only gradually, apperception and insertion\ncannot take place until after some knowledge of the language has been\nacquired. And this knowledge must grow considerably before we can\nreasonably look for spontaneous ideas. If now the reproduced ideas\nbecome encumbered with additional new ones, worst of all through mere\ncontinuation, we need not wonder if the result is useless chaos.\n\nThis explains, no doubt, why the attempts to teach the ancient\nlanguages _ex usu_, after the manner in which the language of a foreign\ncountry is easily learned by residence in that country, had to end in\nfailure. One who learns French in France has persons and actions before\nhis eyes; he easily infers that which concerns him. Such apperception\ntakes place undoubtedly by means of spontaneous ideas with which the\nforeign language becomes associated. Before long the language itself\nbecomes an apperceiving factor and participates in the process of\nlearning. For the ancient languages, on the contrary, a grammatical\nworking basis is needed first, especially a knowledge of inflectional\nendings, pronouns, and particles. The blunder should not be made, to\nbe sure, of beginning with a marshalling of the hosts of grammar, as\nthough grammar itself needed no base of operations. Long practice of\nwhat is most necessary must precede. But the worst plan would be to\nstart in with cursory reading; in other words, to continue without\nmaking sure of anything.\n\nEven cursory reading, however, produces good results under one\ncondition; namely, the existence of a lively interest in the contents.\n\n130. When the thoughts of the reader hasten on in advance of the words\nand get hold of the general sense correctly, the required apperception\nis performed by means of spontaneous ideas together with the insertion\nof whatever was not inferred. But this presupposes a very favorable\nrelation of the book to the reader. Hence texts used in the teaching\nof a language must be chosen with very great care, and their contents\nexplained.\n\nSuch work should not be slighted in favor of grammar; on the other\nhand, as much grammar must be given as is necessary. Some of the\nessentials will have to precede the reading; complementary facts will\nbe presented in connection with the reading; other portions of the\ngrammatical apparatus will be introduced at suitable halting-places.\nWritten exercises belong elsewhere and stand in a different relation to\ngrammar.\n\nThe interest in an author depends very largely on historical\npreparation; here we cannot fail to discover connection between\nphilology and the so-called real studies.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\n=Remarks on the Plan of Instruction as a Whole=\n\n\n131. Where many diverse means are to co\u00f6perate for the attainment of\none end, where many obstacles have to be overcome, where persons of\nhigher, equal, and lower rank enter as factors requiring consideration,\nit is always a difficult matter to keep the end itself, the one fixed\ngoal, steadily in view. In instruction the difficulty is increased\nby the fact that no one single teacher can impart the whole, and\nthat consequently a number of teachers are obliged to depend on\none another. But for this very reason, however much circumstances\nmay vary the courses of study, the common end, namely, many-sided,\nwell-balanced, well-connected interest, in the achievement of which\nthe true development of mental powers consists, needs to be lifted\ninto prominence as the one thing toward which all details of procedure\nshould point.\n\n132. No more time, we need to realize at the outset, should be demanded\nfor instruction than is consistent with the proviso that the pupils\nretain their natural buoyancy of spirits. This must be insisted on,\nand not merely for the sake of health and physical vigor; a more\ndirect argument for our present purpose lies in the fact that all art\nand labor employed to keep the attention awake will be thwarted by\nthe disinclination to study caused by sitting too long, and even by\nexcessive mental application alone. Forced attention does not suffice\nfor instruction, even though it may be had through disciplinary\nmeasures.\n\nIt is urgently necessary that every school have not only spacious\nschoolrooms, but also a playground; it is further necessary that each\nrecitation be followed by an intermission, that after the first two\nperiods permission be granted for exercise in the open air, and that\nthe same permission be given after the third period if there is a\nfourth to follow.\n\nStill more urgent is the demand that pupils shall not be deprived of\ntheir hours of needed recreation by an excessive amount of school work\nto be done at home. The teacher who loads pupils down with home tasks\nin order to dispense as much as possible with perhaps uncertain home\nsupervision, substitutes a certain and general evil for a possible and\npartial one.\n\nThe neglect of such precautions has given rise in recent times to\nvery bitter complaints, which will continue to be heard in future\nfor similar reasons. Violent gymnastic exercise is not the means to\nput a stop to them. They threaten to lead to another extreme--such\nrestrictions upon instruction as will make an inner unity of work\nimpossible.\n\n  The subjects of fatigue and school hygiene have now grown to\n  unexpected dimensions. Many periodicals are devoted to them, while\n  the volume of literature bearing upon them has passed the stage where\n  one person can be expected to command it all. In his \u201cBibliography\n  of School Hygiene,\u201d published in the \u201cProceedings of the National\n  Educational Association for 1898,\u201d Professor William H. Burnham\n  enumerates four hundred and thirty-six standard works, articles, and\n  journals dedicated to this cause. Many of these books, like those of\n  Eulenberg and Bach, or Burgerstein and Netolitzky, comprise hundreds\n  of pages, being based on extended experiment and research.\n\n133. The time properly belonging to instruction must not be scattered.\nThe deep-rooted practice of assigning two hours per week to one study\nand two hours to another, each lesson separated from the next by an\ninterval of two or three days, is absurd, because incompatible with\ncontinuity of presentation. Of course, if the teacher can stand this\narrangement, the pupils will have to endure it.\n\nThe subjects of instruction must be taken up in order that each may\nhave its share of continuous time. To give a whole term to each is not\nalways practicable; frequently shorter periods will have to suffice.\n\nAgain, one subject must not be split into several, according to the\nnames of its branches. If, for example, we should set apart separate\nhours for Greek and Roman antiquities and again for mythology in\naddition to the time designated for the reading of ancient authors,\nseparate hours for the systematic survey of the branches of knowledge\nbesides those reserved for German in the highest class of the\ngymnasium, separate hours for analytic geometry alongside of algebra,\nwe should tear asunder where we ought to join together, and should\ndissipate the time at our disposal.\n\nSaving time depends on methods better than these,--on proficiency in\npresenting a subject and skill in conducting recitations.\n\n  Despite the protest here entered, German schools still adhere to the\n  plan of presenting many subjects simultaneously, few hours per week\n  being devoted to each. American schools are fairly free from the\n  reproach, it being an exception to find standard subjects taught less\n  than four or five times per week.\n\n134. As boys grow older, they may derive a great deal of profit from\nreading and doing many things by themselves. Following their own\nchoice, they develop in accordance with their individual traits. We\nquestion, however, the wisdom of calling for reports on such outside\npursuits. Pupils of ordinary capacity should not be made ambitious\nto imitate what they are not fitted for; extensive reading must not\nimpair feeling and thinking. Breadth of learning is not identical with\ndepth, and cannot make up for lack of depth. Instead of reading, some\nengage in the study of a fine art. Others are compelled at an early\nage to give lessons in order to support themselves. These learn while\nteaching.\n\nThe essentials of a coherent scheme of studies must not be dependent\non outside reading; they must be embraced in the plan of instruction\nitself.\n\n135. From beginning to end the course of study must be arranged so as\nto provide for each of the main classes of interest. The empirical\ninterest, to be sure, is called forth everywhere more easily than\nany of the other kinds. But religious instruction always fosters\nsympathetic interest; in this it must have the assistance of history\nand language study. \u00c6sthetic culture at first depends on the work in\nthe mother-tongue; it is desirable to have, in addition, instruction in\nsinging, which at the same time promotes the health of the pupil. Later\non, the ancient classics contribute their share of influence. Training\nin thinking is afforded by analytic, grammatical, and mathematical\ninstruction; toward the end, also, by the study of history, which then\nbecomes a search for causes and effects. Co\u00f6peration of this sort is to\nbe sought everywhere; the authors to be studied must be selected with\nthis end in view, and interpreted accordingly.\n\n  If there is a defect in Herbart\u2019s scheme of interests as a guide\n  to the selection of the studies of the curriculum, it lies in the\n  fact that the interests named are too exclusively applied to the\n  pupil\u2019s individual life, and not enough to his life as a member\n  of the social whole. There is an important sense in which even\n  natural science, which may be expected to cultivate the speculative\n  interests, is social; for science becomes truly significant only\n  when it contributes to the service of men. The fact that we now live\n  in an industrial age, that life is preserved from disease in so large\n  a measure, that the well-being of every community is advancing so\n  rapidly, that universal education is now a fact rather than a dream,\n  is due to the application of science to human welfare. Consequently,\n  we are not restricted to a few humanitarian topics, like history and\n  literature, for the development of our social interests. We find that\n  every study has its sociological as well as its personal bearings. On\n  the other hand, since all studies are both subjective and objective\n  in the interests they arouse, it would be possible to awaken all the\n  six classes of interest enumerated by teaching but a fraction of\n  what we now consider needful in a good curriculum. It would seem,\n  therefore, that the six classes of interest, at best, indicate what\n  the _quality_ of our teaching should be, not with sufficient accuracy\n  _what_ subjects should be taught. The latter is determined quite as\n  much by social as by psychological needs.\n\n\n\n\nSECTION III\n\nTRAINING\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\n=The Relation of Training to Government and to Instruction=\n\n\n136. Training looks toward the pupil\u2019s future. It is founded on hope,\nand shows itself, to begin with, in patience. It tempers government,\nthe object of which might perhaps be realized more speedily by greater\nrigor. It moderates even instruction in case the latter puts too great\na strain upon the pupil. But it also combines with government as well\nas instruction, and lightens their work.\n\nTraining consists primarily in a certain personal attitude, identical\nif possible with a kind way of treating pupils. This implies readiness\non the part of the teacher to listen to the wishes and utterances of\nthe pupil, who, in the midst of strangers, looks to his teacher (and to\nthe family in charge of his education) for sympathy and support. But\ntraining becomes active where the pupil needs help, especially help\nagainst his own weaknesses and faults, which might frustrate the hopes\ncentred in him.\n\n137. Training insists on becoming conduct; it encourages cheerfulness\nof disposition. In either case it remains within limits compatible\nwith the occupations connected with government and instruction. The\npupil is never to lose sight of the subject on which he is engaged; it\nwould be bad if a desire to show off, or to amuse himself, should take\npossession of him and cause him to forget his work.\n\nThe wise teacher will be glad to make himself personally agreeable to\nhis pupil as long as the conduct of the latter does not call for the\nopposite treatment. Supervision grows less irksome in consequence.\nGentle words forestall, if anything can, all severer measures.\n\n138. The teacher does not look upon the progress resulting from his\nteaching with feelings of indifference. His sympathy, even solicitude\nit may be, co\u00f6perates powerfully with the greater or lesser degree\nof interest awakened in the learner. Training, however, can never be\nmade a substitute where there is no interest or, worse still, where\nindifference has become positive dislike.\n\n139. In instruction the presence of interest cannot be simply assumed;\njust as little can good intentions on the pupil\u2019s part always be\npresupposed in training. One thing, however, must be taken for granted:\nthe pupil must not have come to feel that the discipline is weak and\nthe instruction poor. Any defect in either direction must therefore be\ntraced to its source and remedied. When pupils feel free to do as they\nplease, when they think they have good cause to blame the teacher for\ntheir failure to make progress, his manner will be of no avail; and\nfutile attempts only make matters worse.\n\n140. In some cases training becomes blended with government to such\nan extent that it can scarcely be distinguished from the latter.\nAs an example, we may mention the large educational institutions\nconducted on a military basis, where the individual pupil is carried\nalong by the general system, rather than made the object of special\ncare. In other cases, training and government remain farther apart\nthan is necessary; an instance of this is when a strict father keeps\nhimself at a distance, and leaves the business of training, within\nthe prescribed rigid limits, to the tutor of his children. At all\nevents, a distinction must be made between the two concepts, training\nand government, in order that the teacher may know what he is doing,\nand may notice what is perhaps lacking; we are justified in adding,\nin order that he may save himself useless effort. For training is not\nuniformly effectual, regardless of circumstances; the teacher needs to\nbe watchful in this matter in order that the opportune moment for doing\nwhat can be done may not escape him.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\n=The Aim of Training=\n\n\n141. While the aim of instruction was rendered sufficiently\ndeterminate, as we saw above (17, 64, 65), by the injunction,\nbe perfect, the aim of training, which supplements educative\ninstruction, comprehends virtue as a whole. Now virtue is an ideal,\nthe approximation toward which is denoted by the term _morality_.\nAgain, since, generally speaking, a child passes on from mere capacity\nfor culture to culture itself, from the indeterminate to fixedness of\nknowledge, the approximation to virtue consists likewise in development\ntoward stability. Where conduct in moral affairs vacillates, there is\na deficiency; where something morally hateful becomes confirmed, there\nis a defect. Excluding both, we define the aim of training properly as\nmoral strength of character.\n\n  \u201cTraining\u201d means such will-training as conduces to the formation\n  of good character; \u201cgovernment\u201d means such training as conduces\n  to good order. The first is for a permanent, the second for\n  an immediate, purpose. In government we can appeal both to a\n  positive and a negative means. The positive means is interest in\n  a study and the affairs of the schoolroom; the negative means\n  is inhibition of disturbing impulses. As Professor James, in his\n  \u201cTalks on Psychology,\u201d[13] points out, this inhibition may be of\n  two sorts,--that of forcible suppression, and that of substitution.\n  A teacher who uses negative means of inhibiting mischief or\n  inattention, employs command or punishment. This method, though\n  sometimes seemingly unavoidable, often results in mental strain,\n  if not permanent alienation between teacher and pupil. The method\n  of substitution attempts to secure inhibition of the undesirable\n  state of mind by giving rise to a set of favorable ideas strong\n  enough to displace it. \u201cIf, without saying anything about the street\n  disturbances,\u201d which may be distracting the attention of your pupils,\n  \u201cyou open a counter attraction by starting some very interesting\n  talk or demonstration yourself, they will altogether forget the\n  distracting incident, and, without any effort, follow you along.\u201d\n  Training, however, has a more difficult task. It must succeed in\n  implanting what may be called regulative principles in the mind.\n  It must furthermore succeed in establishing habits of conduct that\n  will enable the pupil to become self-governing. That is, we must\n  establish in him habits of feeling and action that will enable him\n  to substitute the higher for the lower good, or, at least, instantly\n  to inhibit the temptation to evil. This is a task not for a day or a\n  year, but for the whole school period.\n\n[13] James, \u201cTalks on Psychology,\u201d p. 193, Henry Holt & Co., New York,\n1899.\n\n142. In succeeding chapters character and moral conduct will each have\nto be differentiated more minutely. For our present purpose we need\nonly to remind ourselves that the determinateness of the will, which\nis called character, depends not only on willing, but also on not\nwilling. The latter is either a deficient or a denying willing, which\nrepels or rejects. Stern methods of governing, which bar access to\neverything that might lead astray, are likely to produce a deficient\nwill rather than the permanence of formed strength; with the end of\nschool days, the dreaded opportunities arrive after all, and the pupil\nmay quickly undergo a change beyond recognition. The task of training\nmust therefore be thought of as embracing both affirmative willing and\nrejecting.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\n=Differentiation of Character=\n\n\n143. Our will activities result from ideas. Different masses of ideas\ngive rise to different will action; hence the difficulty experienced in\nharmonizing and unifying the manifold acts of will.\n\nThe various groups of ideas do not simply succeed one another\nin consciousness; the relation of one to the other may also be\nthat of apperception. Apperceiving attention is not confined to\nsense-perception (77); it embraces inner perception as well. The\nprocess of apperception, however, consists rarely or never in mere\nperceiving. It involves more: one mass of ideas exerts a determining\ninfluence on the other. Now, since each may be the source of will\naction, it happens that often one act of will accepts or rejects\nanother. Again, conscious of himself pre\u00ebminently as a being that\nwills, man gives commands to himself and decides concerning himself;\nhe seeks to acquire self-control. In such efforts he makes himself\nmore and more the object of his own observation. That part of his will\nactivity which his self-observation reveals to be already in existence,\nwe call the objective part of character. To the new will action,\non the other hand, which first springs into existence in and with\nself-examination, we give the name subjective part of character.\n\nThe subjective side of character can attain its full development only\nduring the years of maturity. Its beginnings, however, reach back into\nboyhood, and its normal growth during adolescence is noticeably rapid,\ndue allowance being made for variations of kind and degree in different\nindividuals.\n\n  The assumption of the unconditional primacy of ideas can no longer\n  be seriously entertained. Just as there is an unfolding of ideas in\n  sensation, perception, apperception, and rational insight, so there\n  is an unfolding of our volitional life in impulse, conscious will\n  action, and the control of conduct in accordance with the regulative\n  principles of moral obligation. Knowledge and will doubtless spring\n  from a common root, but they are not primarily so related that\n  volition waits on knowledge. Impulse is antecedent to idea, while in\n  the last analysis and in the highest realm of mind, the _actual_ is\n  subordinate to the _ideal_, the _ought_ is more powerful than the\n  _is_. In other words, there is, as Dr. Harris maintains, a sense in\n  which the will is self-determining, even though the extent to which\n  this self-active control obtains is uncertain. As Natorp says,[14]\n  \u201cIt is folly to call upon the weak to be strong, to concentrate\n  consciousness upon the categorical imperative, so that the inflexible\n  demands of the ought shall be complied with.\u201d Yet even in the weak\n  there is a bar of consciousness or perhaps conscience before which\n  judgment must be pronounced as to the worthiness or unworthiness of\n  a given line of conduct. It is the function of moral education--and\n  this includes all education--to make the weak strong, to strengthen\n  the good impulses, to clarify the insight, to accustom the mind to\n  dwell on the right set of ideas, to cultivate desirable feelings\n  and interests. In this process of moral development, the world of\n  ideas has perhaps all the validity claimed for it by Herbart. What\n  is here called the \u201csubjective\u201d side of character pertains to that\n  regulation of conduct which arises from its examination before the\n  bar of consciousness as to its agreement or disagreement with the\n  regulative principles of moral obligation. It is that advanced\n  stage of development in character in which the mind is consciously\n  self-directive. Naturally it is later than the \u201cobjective\u201d side,\n  where action is more spontaneous, more governed by impulses, more\n  subject to hypnotic suggestion; in short, more subordinated to\n  \u201cideo-motor\u201d activity and less governed by reflection.\n\n[14] Natorp, \u201cSocialp\u00e4dagogik,\u201d p. 9, tr. Fromman, Stuttgart, 1899.\n\n144. In view of the very manifold volitional elements which the\nobjective foundations of character may obviously contain, it will\nfacilitate a survey if we distinguish (1) that which the pupil does or\ndoes not endure willingly, (2) that which he does or does not long to\nhave, (3) that which he does or does not like to do. Now one, now the\nother class predominates, the strongest controlling and restricting the\nrest. But this restriction is not always an easy matter. Accordingly\nthe objective phase of character attains at first to inner harmony only\nwith difficulty.\n\n145. In consequence of frequent repetitions of similar acts of will,\ngeneral concepts are gradually formed in the subjective side of\ncharacter, concepts comprehending both the similar will actions already\npresent under similar circumstances, and the requirements man sets up\nfor himself with a view to determining his willing one way or another.\n\nThese requirements fall largely within the province of prudence; they\npertain to forethought and cautious reserve, or, may be, to action, in\norder that an end may be gained by the choice of suitable means. The\nboy wants to be wiser than the child; the youth wiser than either. In\nthis way man seeks to rise above himself.\n\n146. Moral conduct is not always furthered by man\u2019s effort to surpass\nhimself, so that the teacher\u2019s task becomes a twofold one,--a watching\nand directing not only of the objective but also of the subjective side\nof character. Temperament, native bent, habit, desire, and passion\nfall under the former; to the latter belong the frankness or cunning\ndisplayed by the pupil, and his habitual method of practical reasoning.\n\n147. As a rule, we may consider it auspicious for character building if\nthe pupil, instead of being swayed by moods and whims, is constant in\nhis willing. Such uniformity as requires no effort we may designate by\nthe expression memory of will.\n\nWhen a pupil possesses this natural advantage, the objective part of\nhis character easily arrives at harmony with itself. He sees that among\nhis many preferences relative to enduring, having, doing, one imposes\nrestrictions upon the other; that it is often necessary to submit and\nendure in order to have and do that which is desired; that pursuits of\nwhich he is fond do not always yield what he longs to have, and so on.\nWhen these truths have become sufficiently clear to him, he soon comes\nto a point where he decides which things he cares about a great deal,\nand which less. He chooses, and choice largely determines character,\nprimarily character in its objective aspects.\n\nIn the course of the development of the subjective part of character,\nthere are formed in succession resolves, maxims, and principles, a\nprocess involving subsumptions, conclusions, and motives. It will cost\nmany a struggle before these motives can assert themselves.\n\nThe strength of a character depends on the agreement between its two\nparts, the objective and the subjective. Where there is want of accord,\nthe character is weak. But both must be morally good; where that is not\nthe case, strength ceases to be desirable.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\n=Differentiation of Morality=\n\n\n148. Pupils at once active and kindly are not rare, and so far as\nthe ideas of perfection and good-will are concerned, give rise to no\nanxiety, at least not at first. With a firm government, moreover, they\nare easily induced to make the golden rule their own, and they soon\nbecome disposed to yield in contention, or rather, become more careful\nabout picking a quarrel. Accordingly, with reference also to equity and\njustice, they cause little anxiety. In time they gain mental balance,\nthe basis of genuine self-control, and are now on the road to inner\nfreedom. In short, they are in possession of that which, in the light\nof fundamental ethical ideas, constitutes morality.\n\nBut these constituents of moral conduct are not found together in\nevery one, nor do they always remain together. Side by side with the\npraiseworthy traits mentioned, others of an opposite nature frequently\nmanifest themselves; it becomes evident that the latter are not\nexcluded, and thus the former do not determine the character.\n\n149. In order to exclude the morally evil, the praiseworthy traits\nof the objective side of character need to be reinforced by the good\nresolutions of the subjective part.\n\nThese resolutions, to be worth anything morally, must rest on that\ntheoretical judgment whereby the pupil through examples comes to\ndistinguish between better and worse in willing. As long as his judging\nlacks clearness, energy, and completeness, his resolutions are without\na foundation in his mind and heart. They are hardly more than memorized\nwords.\n\nWhen, on the other hand, the theoretical judgment has become interwoven\nwith the totality of interest growing out of experience, social\nintercourse, and instruction, it creates a warm affection for the good\nwherever found, an affection which influences not only all of the\npupil\u2019s efforts of will, but also the manner in which he assimilates\nwhat instruction and life henceforth offer.\n\n150. Finally, in order to fortify moral decisions, we must avail\nourselves of the assistance derived from the logical cultivation of\nmaxims, from the systematic unification of the same, and from their\nconstant application in life.\n\nHere the organic connection between character growth and the formation\nof habits of reflection becomes apparent; training is, therefore,\nobviously unable to accomplish its work except in conjunction with\ninstruction.\n\n  As soon as a pupil gets a clear notion that a presented ideal of\n  conduct promotes the true realization of his own being, he is\n  in a position to acquire an interest in reaching that ideal. An\n  end, hitherto remote, comes nearer, so that it begins to exercise\n  influence upon the conduct that leads to it. Convention, appeal,\n  or even compulsion from without, are now reinforced by the good\n  resolutions arising from the pupil\u2019s own subjective states. Here we\n  see the interaction of intellectual and emotional capacities. The\n  intellect perceives relations, thus bringing into consciousness a new\n  ideal; this distant end is mediated inasmuch as desire or feeling\n  impels the pupil to enter upon a course of conduct whose stages lead\n  to the ideal goal.[15]\n\n[15] See Dewey, \u201cInterest as Related to Will,\u201d reprint by the National\nHerbart Society for 1899, pp. 15\u201316.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\n=Helps in Training=\n\n\n151. The function of training does not consist, it is true, in always\nrestraining and meddling; still less in ingrafting the practices of\nothers to take the place of the pupil\u2019s self-activity. Nevertheless,\nrefusal and permission are so much a part of training that the pupil\nbecomes far more dependent through training than mere government could\nmake him. In government a few rules may be enforced very strictly,\nwhile in other respects the boy is left to himself; in training a\nsimilar relaxation of vigilance is scarcely ever permissible. Only the\nstrongest grounds for confidence in a pupil would justify such a course.\n\nThe watchful teacher, even without aiming to do so, always shows some\ndegree of approbation or dissatisfaction. In many cases this is all\nthat is necessary; at times, with sensitive pupils, even this is too\nmuch. Unaccustomed censure hurts them more than was intended, while\nno evidence, however slight, of approval, escapes their notice. The\nteacher should be considerate in his treatment of such sensibility.\n\n152. With regard to restraint of freedom, keenness of sensibility\nis more common. In this connection another point also calls for\nconsideration. Freedom is of the utmost direct importance to formation\nof character, provided it issues in well-weighed and successful\naction. For from success springs the confidence of will whereby desire\nripens into decision. Where rational action may be looked for, freedom\nof action must be granted; where the opposite is true, the early\nappearance of a vivid consciousness of self-activity is fraught with\ndanger.\n\nFrequent censure and curtailment of freedom generally blunt\nsensibility, rather more, however, sensibility to words than to\nrestrictions. Accordingly, where repetition of censure is necessary,\nthe language may and should vary. On the other hand, the teacher\u2019s\npractice with respect to permission and prohibition must, where\npossible, be felt to be permanent, even if it were only to confine\nthe granting of the same permission to stated times, in accordance\nwith an adopted habit. Lack of uniformity, except for obvious reasons,\nimpresses pupils as arbitrariness and caprice; fixed limits are endured\nmore easily.\n\n153. The sensibilities are irritated least by mere directions, by daily\nreminding, by calls at the appointed hour, without words of reproach.\nThere are numerous details of daily life which must be placed under\nthe rule of order, but it would be unwise to make more of them than\nthey deserve. Sharp reprimands ought not to be wasted on petty acts of\nnegligence; they are needed for important things. Rules must be obeyed;\nbut a light punishment, one that does not wound the feelings, is more\nsuitable here than harsh words could be.\n\n154. Closely related to the foregoing is the cultivation of habits\nthat imply endurance, or the bearing of deprivation without murmur,\nor even an inuring to positive hardships. In efforts tending in this\ndirection it is not sufficient merely to refrain from hurting the\npupil\u2019s feelings; youthful good humor and love of fun must be allowed\nfree expression besides.\n\n155. Mischievous consequences follow if children become accustomed\nto frequent, unnecessary gratification of desires, or to a round of\nartificial pleasures which include neither work nor exercise. To\nmention only one such consequence, the attendant blunting of the\nsensibilities renders ineffectual numerous minor aids of training\nwhich may be employed to good advantage with unspoiled children. It\ntakes little to give children a great variety of pleasures when great\nmoderation is a matter of daily practice, and for this very reason\nwe need to husband, as it were, our resources for giving enjoyment,\nin order that much may be accomplished with little. Harmless games,\nparticularly, should not be spoiled for children by making them feel\nthat they must cultivate the staid behavior of adults. Their own\nambition fills them only too early with the desire to appear no longer\nas children.\n\n156. The good teacher\u2019s watchfulness will extend even to petty details,\nwhich may indeed prove momentous enough in his little world. These are\nnot so important, however, as the mutual relations of the co\u00f6perating\nfactors:--\n\n(1) _Relation between Action and Rest._ The powers of the child must\nbe given something to do, but exercise is to further their growth and\nhence must not be carried to the point of exhaustion. Now and then\na boy must convince himself by experience that great things may be\nachieved by strenuous effort, but severe tests of this kind must never\nbe permitted to become the rule.\n\n(2) _Relation between that which puts down and that which lifts up._\nThe means of training that humble and those that encourage should\nbalance as nearly as possible. That which rises of its own accord\nrequires no raising up; but when along the whole course of training\ncriticism perceptibly exceeds encouragement, it loses its effectiveness\nand often embitters pupils more than it benefits them.\n\n(3) _Relation between Restraint and Freedom._ The child\u2019s surroundings\nand companionship should afford protection against temptation, but his\nenvironment must be sufficiently ample and rich to prevent much longing\nfor that which is outside.\n\n157. The outcome is uncertain in the case of those aids to training\nwhose effect on the sensibilities of the pupils cannot be foreseen.\nSome of them are, nevertheless, well worth trying, final judgment being\nsuspended until after the result has been observed. Under this head\nbelong especially the strictly pedagogical punishments and rewards\nwhich are patterned after the natural consequences of doing or not\ndoing. The boy who comes late loses the anticipated enjoyment; if\nhe destroys his things, he must do without them; over-indulgence is\nfollowed by bitter medicine; tattling by removal from the circle in\nwhich matters requiring discretion are discussed, etc. Such punishments\ndo not subserve moral improvement, but they warn and teach a lesson. To\nwhat extent they will do so we are often unable to tell beforehand; a\nprofitable reminiscence may be retained at all events.\n\n  The discipline of consequences has been much emphasized by Herbert\n  Spencer in his \u201cEducation.\u201d Its limited usefulness in moral training\n  is pointed out in the foregoing section. Acting like a mechanical\n  law, it tends to have the same effect upon the feelings that a\n  physical law has. How could one\u2019s moral sensibilities be impressed by\n  the law of gravitation? Nature makes us prudent, but scarcely good.\n\n158. Sometimes the question is how to set pupils on the right track\nagain. They have grown listless, for instance, or pursue their\ntasks with reluctance. Here we may profitably resort to a sudden\ninterruption by a change of employment. It happens occasionally\nthat pupils, physically strong, are guilty of very bad behavior that\npersists in spite of admonitions and punishments, or reappears in\nanother form, but which is, after all, at bottom, only the result of\na state of ill humor that can easily be corrected. An unexpected,\ntrifling present, an unusual act of attention, will very likely break\ndown the pupil\u2019s reserve, and when the cause of the trouble has once\nbeen ascertained, it will be possible to discover a remedy.\n\n159. In the case of those that are weak physically, furtherance of\nhealth combined with persevering patience is the first and chief duty.\nBut kindness should not degenerate into weak indulgence; on the other\nhand, close supervision must take the place of every form of harsh\ntreatment.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\n=General Method of Training=\n\n\n160. The distinctions relative to character and morality (143\u2013150)\nfurnish the thread of reflection on this subject. Concisely stated, the\nfunction of training is to support, to determine, and to regulate; to\nkeep the pupil, on the whole, in a tranquil and serene frame of mind;\nto arouse him occasionally by approval and reproof; to remind at the\nproper moment, and to correct faults. A more definite significance\nwill be imparted to this brief summary by a comparative study and\napplication of the ideas analyzed in the preceding chapters.\n\n  While we may accept the statement that the function of training is to\n  support, to determine, and to regulate, we must not forget to ask:\n  To what end shall it do these things? The answer is, that though\n  the means of moral training are always psychological, the ends are\n  always social. Support must hold the pupil up to social standards,\n  the directive power of the teacher must be exercised for social ends,\n  while all regulation of the pupil\u2019s activities must point to the same\n  result. There is scarcely a virtue to be named that does not find its\n  ultimate meaning in its application to conduct as affecting others.\n  This is true even in primitive society. In modern urban society it\n  is not only true, but vastly important. The discussion in Chapter VI\n  is psychological throughout. It must be the purpose of the annotation\n  to point out the social implications.\n\n161. First, what is meant by the supporting activity of training\nbecomes clearer if we recall the remarks made concerning memory of the\nwill (147) as opposed to the thoughtlessness usually ascribed to youth.\nThe thoughtless boy does not remember past acts of will. He stands in\nneed of being supported by training. This, further analysis shows, is\ndone in two ways: by holding him back from the wrong course, and by\nholding him up to the right course.\n\nTraining presupposes an efficient government and the obedience\nconsequent to it. By implication, the pupil would not dare to disobey\na command if given. But commands ought to be employed sparingly, and\nonly when inevitable. Imposed too frequently, they would preclude\nself-development; if given to adolescents for any but obvious and\nurgent reasons, obedience would not long continue. In short, government\nacts at intervals. But the pupil cannot be permitted to live in a state\nof lawless liberty in the meantime. He must remain sensible, be it ever\nso little, of certain limits which he is not allowed to overstep. This\nresult is the aim of the supporting function of training.\n\nBut the pupil, even though he be generally obedient, does not obey\nevery one, nor under all circumstances, nor always fully, promptly,\nand without opposition; and when he once fails to comply with gentle\nwords, he will be still less ready to yield to a severe manner toward\nhimself. Of course, the teacher must know on what support he may\ndepend; the father needs to have made up his mind how far he would be\nwilling to go with coercive measures if necessary; the private tutor,\nto what extent he may count on the backing of parents; the teacher in a\npublic institution, how far his course of action would be upheld by his\nsuperiors. But all this involves an appeal from training to government,\na step to be avoided as much as possible. Most of the unpleasant cases\nof intractability, where recourse to government becomes unavoidable,\nare the gradual result of continued weak indulgence. Of such cases no\naccount is taken here, and justly so, since, apart from all else, even\ndefiant obstinacy, provided restraint has not been cast off utterly,\nsoon breaks down and gives way to remorse when it is met by serious and\ndeliberate firmness.\n\n  The most obvious ways that the school has of securing a good \u201cmemory\n  of will\u201d are those by which it enforces the well-known school\n  virtues,--regularity, punctuality, silence, and industry. It is to\n  the acquisition of these habits that the government, or discipline,\n  of the school is chiefly directed. Dr. Wm. T. Harris has pointed out\n  in detail the significance of this acquisition in the development\n  of character.[16] It is interesting to note how the teacher\u2019s\n  personal authority is reinforced by social pressure both within and\n  without the school. The Superintendent of a city of thirteen thousand\n  inhabitants reports that but 1462 cases of tardiness occurred during\n  a whole school year. The pupils of each room are given a brief\n  holiday, from time to time, provided nobody in that room is tardy\n  during the stated period. This brings an immense social pressure\n  within the school to bear in securing prompt attendance. Happening to\n  visit the Superintendent\u2019s office in a city of some sixty thousand\n  people, the writer observed the following scene: A young girl of\n  perhaps fourteen years of age, accompanied by her father, who was\n  a foreigner, unable to speak English fluently, entered the office.\n  The girl began at once to make excuses for her brother who was a\n  somewhat confirmed truant, and to beg that he might be excused and\n  reinstated. To objections stated by the Superintendent, the father\n  with much emotion replied, \u201cOh, Mr. Superintendent, won\u2019t you give my\n  boy another trial?\u201d The boy had been \u2018tried again\u2019 so many times that\n  father and daughter were referred to the judge, an officer having\n  jurisdiction over such cases. The penalty for persistent truancy was\n  attendance at a state reformatory school. This is a case in which the\n  authority of the teacher in securing regularity of attendance was\n  reinforced by the community outside the school. The constant pressure\n  of school and community tend to establish habits of will memory that\n  serve as an excellent foundation for later moral training.\n\n[16] Third Year Book of the National Herbart Society.\n\n162. Before training can have within itself the power to make up\ndeficiencies in obedience, there must be awakened in the pupil a vivid\nfeeling that the approval of his teacher is a valuable possession,\nwhich he would be loath to lose. This the teacher will bring about\nin proportion to the effective and welcome share he has in the life\nof his pupil. He must give before he can receive. Furthermore, if in\nhis opinion the pupil needs to be turned in a different direction, he\nshould not underestimate the difficulty of the task before him; he must\nproceed slowly.\n\nThe initial steps in character training are admirably described by\nNiemeyer in the following words: \u201cThe teacher\u2019s first duty is to study\nthe positively good elements in the native character of the being to\nbe educated. To preserve these, to strengthen them, to transform them\ninto virtue, and to fortify them against every danger, should be his\nincessant endeavor. They should constitute the keynote, as it were,\nof his whole method of education. He should look for the good even in\nthe spoilt and vicious pupil, and should try to bring it to light,\nno matter how many weeds may have sprung up alongside of it. For all\nsubsequent moral education must start from this point.\u201d\n\nAlthough this passage belongs in strictness to the discussion on moral\neducation, it is plainly entitled to a place here also. An appeal\nto the pupil\u2019s better nature promotes ready compliance on his part,\nespecially when it is accompanied by those little courtesies that go\nwith cultivated social intercourse. It is most effective with those who\npossess at the same time the strongest memory of will, which it will\nnot be difficult for the supporting activity of training to strengthen\nstill further.\n\n163. On the other hand, the task of training grows arduous in\nproportion as the pupil fails to bear in mind his acts of will. But\neven here there is a difference between capricious unruliness and\ndownright flightiness and levity.\n\nCases may arise where the impetuosity of the pupil challenges the\nteacher to a kind of combat. Rather than accept such a challenge, he\nwill usually find it sufficient at first to reprove calmly, to look on\nquietly, to wait until fatigue sets in. The embarrassing situations\ninto which such a pupil gets himself will furnish occasions for making\nhim feel ashamed, and now it remains to be seen whether or not he can\nbe made to adopt a more equable behavior. Here and there training may\nin this way even make good the lack of government; scarcely, however,\nfor large numbers, after unruliness has once begotten vicious habits.\n\n  Combats of any kind between teacher and pupil are to be deplored.\n  A good teacher is always strong enough in his mental superiority,\n  his authority, and his influence as an executive to avoid it. Such\n  a contest shows that the pupil has become self-conscious in a bad\n  sense. He sets his personality over against that of the teacher.\n  If the teacher is so weak as to meet him on his own ground, the\n  pupil has a good chance for a bad victory--bad for himself, the\n  teacher, and the school. It should be a constant aim of the teacher\n  to supplant introspection, whether pertaining to feelings or to\n  wilfulness, with motor activity. The pupil should always be doing\n  something that will promote not only his own best good, but that\n  of the school also. Authority should rarely so assert itself as to\n  incite or to permit a personal contest with the pupil. It should be a\n  strong but almost unseen presupposition of all school affairs. Here\n  as elsewhere idleness is the mother of mischief. Lively action is\n  sure to banish morbid introspection.\n\n164. Thoughtlessness in the narrower sense, which manifests itself in\nforgetfulness, in negligence, in want of steadiness, and in so-called\nyouthful escapades, is a defect in native capacity, and does not\nadmit of a radical cure, imperceptible as it may become with age, by\nreason of repeated warnings and diminishing susceptibility to external\nimpressions. All the more imperative is it in such cases to support\nby training, in order that the evil consequences of this character\nweakness may be prevented, or at least reduced to a minimum. For as\nsoon as a thoughtlessly impulsive boy comes to take pleasure in his\nconduct, he will set himself against order and industry, and will\nstrive to discover the means which promise to secure for him a life\nwithout restrictions. This danger must be forestalled by training.\nAt the beginning, and before an evil will has had time to develop,\ntraining must take the place of will. It must bring home to the pupil\nthat of which he had lost sight. To his fluctuating and roving\nimpulses it must lend its own external firmness and uniformity, which\ncannot be created at once, if at all, within the pupil.\n\nHere is the proper place for the injunction, not to argue with\nchildren. \u201cI cannot be too emphatic and outspoken in my warning against\ntoo much arguing,\u201d says Caroline Rudolphi; and Schwarz, who quotes this\npassage, adds, \u201cOnce is too often.\u201d Niemeyer, after speaking of the\nexcesses of abnormal liveliness and characterizing thoughtlessness,\nwhich, he says, \u201ccauses inattention, a disregard for consequences,\nand hasty actions,\u201d continues thus: \u201cAll these are not faults of the\nheart; still they are faults that need to be amended, and about the\nonly sure educational method for amending them is to cultivate right\nhabits. Positive punishments wisely chosen may indeed be employed as\nauxiliary means, but only when there are evidences of a lack of good\nintention, or when these faults have become ominously prominent.\u201d He\nfurther advises teachers to insist on this, that pupils rectify on the\nspot what can be rectified, since vague recollections prove barren of\ngood results.\n\nThis does not, of course, dispose of the whole matter, but we are still\ndiscussing training as a supporting agency, and from this point of view\nit is true that argument should not be substituted for the cultivation\nof habits.\n\n165. To restrain the lively but thoughtless boy is more difficult than\nto keep him properly active, for the latter is comparatively easy, in\nsome cases at least, if instruction excites his interest. The reverse\nholds true for the sluggish boy because an attack has to be made on\nhis indolence. Here the stimulation to physical exertion through\nassociation with wide-awake playmates is the first thing to be secured;\nand where hard lessons cannot as yet be managed successfully, lighter\noccupations will have to suffice. Where sluggishness is traceable to\nbodily feebleness, improvement may be hoped for from sanitary measures\nand increasing years.\n\nThe following rule is to be observed everywhere: No exercise must\nexceed the pupil\u2019s strength, but that which has once been begun must be\ncompleted. At the least, pupils must not be allowed to drop their work\nas they choose; they must look upon it as a whole, however small.\n\n166. That the supporting procedure of training rests on the teacher\u2019s\nown bearing--on the uniformity of his demeanor--need hardly be said;\nbut this evenness must also stand out clearly before the eyes of the\npupils. The teacher ought to guard particularly against causing the\ncomplaint that no one knows how to please him, that nothing one may\ndo is done to his satisfaction. When matters have come to this pass,\nthe first thing pupils do is to watch his moods as they might the\nweather, and to interchange observations. His ugly mood is dreaded;\nhis pleasant mood is taken advantage of for importunate requests.\nThe pupils try to move the firm centre which is to support them, and\nthe faintest signs of success awaken and foster extravagant hopes.\nGradually the after-effects of earlier government die out, and a\nrenewal of severe measures draws with it a train of new evils.\n\n  Goldsmith in his \u201cDeserted Village\u201d has well portrayed the \u201cmoody\u201d\n  teacher:--\n\n    \u201cA man severe he was, and stern to view;\n     I knew him well, and every truant knew:\n     Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace\n     The day\u2019s disasters in his morning face;\n     Full well they laughed, with counterfeited glee,\n     At all his jokes, for many a joke had he;\n     Full well the busy whisper, circling round,\n     Conveyed the dismal tidings when he frowned.\u201d\n\n167. Second. Training is to exert a determining influence; it is\nto induce the pupil _to choose_ (147). Under this head falls the\ndiscrimination spoken of above between varieties of volitional\nimpulse--the will to bear, to have, and to do; hence also experiential\nknowledge of the natural consequences of doing or of failure to\ndo (157), for unless these are taken into consideration, the manifold\nof will cannot be reduced to harmony. Now the first point to be noticed\nin connection with this aspect of training is that the teacher does not\nchoose for the pupil. The pupil himself must choose, for it is his own\ncharacter that is to be determined. He must himself experience a part,\nalthough only the smallest part, of that which is desirable or harmful.\nThat the flame burns that a pin pricks, that a fall or knock hurts,\nthis lesson even the little child must learn; and similar experiences\nmust be gained later, provided they do not carry the pupil to the verge\nof serious danger. Everything essential has been accomplished if,\nin consequence of actual experiences confirming the teacher\u2019s words\nof warning, the pupil believes other warnings without waiting for\nconfirmation.\n\n  Not second in importance to the act of choosing is the content of the\n  choice. If conduct must have a social outcome, all the activities\n  of the school will focus at this point. In order to have rational\n  choice there must be first of all social intelligence. This it is\n  the function of instruction to develop. According to a well-known\n  doctrine of Herbart, it is the chief duty of instruction to make a\n  progressive revelation to the pupil of the ethical world, in order\n  that his puny will may gradually be reinforced by race experience.\n  The instruments for this revelation are the studies on the one hand,\n  and the conduct of the school according to social principles on the\n  other. In the second place, that the ethical choice may truly express\n  the pupil\u2019s inward state, rather than his outward constraint, it must\n  grow out of his insight as suffused by his social responsiveness to\n  ethical ideas. In other words, his disposition should confirm his\n  intellectual perception of the right line of conduct. This raises the\n  whole matter of interest as related to will.[17] Here again natural,\n  spontaneous, almost unconscious attitude is vastly superior to morbid\n  introspection, no matter how \u2018good\u2019 the pupil\u2019s disposition may prove\n  to be. A boy should not have to \u2018reflect\u2019 as to whether he will rob\n  a bird\u2019s nest or not.\n\n[17] See Dr. John Dewey, \u201cInterest as Related to Will,\u201d National\nHerbart Society, reprint for 1899.\n\n168. Pleasure and pain arise so largely out of social relations that\nthe pupil must grow up amidst a social environment in order to become\nsomewhat acquainted with his natural place among men. This requirement\ngives rise accordingly to solicitous precautions against a bad example\nand rudeness. On the other hand, a boy\u2019s companions should not be\nchosen with such anxious care as if the intention were to spare him\nthe feeling of pressure which in all human society is generated by the\nefforts and counter-efforts of men. Too great complaisance on the part\nof playmates causes delusions as to the actual conditions of life.\n\nAgain, society and seclusion must alternate. The social current is not\nto carry everything else along with it, and to become more powerful\nthan education. Even the boy, and much more the youth, must learn to be\nalone, and to fill up his time profitably.\n\n  Unbroken association of the child with his mates tends to bring\n  him too exclusively under the influence of imitation and of acting\n  impulsively upon those forms of unreasoning suggestion which sway\n  the crowd, the gang, and the mob. To quote Professor Baldwin:[18]\n  \u201cThe characteristics of the social suggestions upon which the crowd\n  act show them to be strictly suggestions. They are not truths, nor\n  arguments, nor insights, nor inventions.... The suggestible mind\n  has very well known marks. Balzac hit off one of them in \u2018Eug\u00e9nie\n  Grandet\u2019 in the question, \u2018Can it be that collectively man has no\n  memory?\u2019 We might go through the list of mental functions asking the\n  same question of them one by one. Has man collectively no thought, no\n  sense of values, no deliberation, no self-control, no responsibility,\n  no conscience, no will, no motive, no purpose? And the answer to\n  each question would be the same, No, he has none. The suggestible\n  consciousness is the consciousness that has no past, no future, no\n  height, no depth, no development, no reference to anything; it is\n  only in and out. It takes in and it acts out--that is all there is\n  to it.\u201d It is here that we find the source of the youthful escapade\n  so common to street, school, and college, as well as of the adult\n  deeds of diabolism that have so often shocked the moral sense of the\n  American people. The child needs frequent opportunities to be alone,\n  when he can \u201ccome to himself\u201d as a responsible person. Even where the\n  association with his mates is perfectly innocent, there is a growing\n  responsiveness to mere suggestion. This tendency is corrected by\n  attention to individual tasks and responsibilities.\n\n[18] \u201cSocial and Ethical Interpretations,\u201d pp. 236\u2013237.\n\n169. By living alternately with his equals in age and with adults, the\npupil grows familiar with diverse standards of honor. To unite these,\nand to subordinate one to the other in a proper manner, will prove\nan easy or a difficult part of training, according to the smaller or\ngreater gap between the value set on brute force on the one hand,\nand the demand for good-breeding, as well as regard for talent and\nknowledge, on the other. The main thing is not to foster ambition\nartificially, though care must be taken at the same time to refrain\nfrom crushing out a natural and true self-esteem. Usually, however,\nthose interested in the progress of a pupil stand in need themselves of\nguarding against the self-deception due to extravagant hopes. By giving\nthemselves up to these, they involuntarily turn flatterers, and push\nthe boy, and the young man still more, beyond the position he is able\nto maintain. Bitter experiences follow.\n\n  The tendency to an abnormal overestimation of the value of physical\n  excellence is seen in the attitude of the modern college toward\n  athletics. Doubtless the public as a whole still underestimates\n  the importance of fine physical development. Our modern life with\n  its nerve-racking occupation will shatter the efficiency of large\n  portions of the race, unless the physical organism is so developed\n  as to withstand the strain. This, if true of men, is still more\n  true of women, who are now undertaking many new lines of exhausting\n  labor, not the easiest of which is teaching. But the college student\n  is prone to adore muscle. The successful athlete is, for a brief\n  period, praised, petted, and advertised far more than is the ablest\n  student or professor in the institution. Scarcely do the noblest\n  achievements of science or philanthropy receive so much notice as\n  a successful full-back on a foot-ball team. The athlete goes up\n  indeed like a rocket, startling the ear and dazzling the eye for\n  a moment--then oblivion, or deserved obscurity. The teacher must\n  endeavor to displace this false estimate of values by one more true\n  if less exciting.\n\n170. The regard for the value of things in their relation to the\nordinary necessities of life develops somewhat more slowly than the\nnatural sense of honor. This is true especially of money, which at\nfirst boys rarely know how to use. Instead of saying, either this\nor that, which a fixed sum will buy, the boy falls a victim to the\ndeception that lurks in saying, this _and_ that. In this respect also\nthe pupil needs to gain experience on a small scale; he must, moreover,\ncome to know the value of objects last, not merely in terms of money,\nbut also in terms of the inconvenience of doing without them. Warnings\nagainst petty closeness are seldom necessary; not infrequently,\nhowever, a boy follows common talk, and it may happen that he practises\nparsimony by imitation, and squanders in obedience to his own impulses.\nWhere faults of this sort are not conquered by the pupil\u2019s own sense of\nhonor, they fall within the province of moral education.\n\n  A modern device for teaching children the value of money, and\n  especially the usefulness of saving it, is the institution of\n  school savings banks. Here the pupil develops his instincts for\n  accumulation. At the same time he learns to inhibit his often\n  inordinate fondness for spending. If indulgence to self, accompanied\n  by penuriousness toward others, is permitted to grow into a habit in\n  childhood and youth, it becomes a source of much unhappiness in later\n  family life. Wife and children are often victims of this kind of\n  selfishness. Now that women are in the main the teachers of children,\n  they should have the interest of their sex sufficiently at heart\n  to inculcate suitable ideals and habits respecting the gathering\n  and spending of money. No form of selfishness is so obnoxious as\n  self-indulgence at the expense of those who have a natural right\n  to an equitable share of what is produced. The \u2018meanness\u2019 of such\n  conduct if constantly unveiled will effect its own cure.\n\n171. When experience has taught the pupil to what extent he must endure\nor need not endure the pressure of human society, and what honors,\nobjects, enjoyments, he can have or must do without, the question\narises: How does he connect all this with the pursuits which attract\nor repel him? The thoughtful pupil soon realizes, without being told,\nthat one thing often makes another possible, that one thing involves or\nconditions another. But upon the thoughtless boy this truth does not\nimpress itself with sufficient force; consequently, the teacher has to\nhelp him to deepen that impression, because a man without a settled\nmind regarding these matters remains devoid of character.\n\nYet a lack of fixedness is often desirable rather than otherwise--a\nstatement applying to those pupils whose intellectual interests\nit is the business of instruction to awaken, or whose moral and\nreligious culture are as yet in a backward state. The objective part\nof character (142) should not become fixed too soon; and very often a\nlarge part of the value of training consists in retarding this process.\nSuch an end is subserved by the restraint under which the pupil is\nkept by the subordinate position assigned to him in conformity with\nhis age, and particularly by the refusal of freedom to act without\npermission, and according to his own inclination (152). The theoretical\njudgment of will relations (149) is frequently late in maturing,\nor remains weak in comparison with the impression produced by the\nexperiences mentioned. In that case moral ardor is also wanting, and if\nthe pupil were given liberty to do as he chose, his character would be\nformed, to be sure, but in the wrong way. Rather would it be better to\nencourage juvenile amusements, and even boyish games, beyond the usual\nage limit.\n\n172. Third. Regulative training begins its work with the first\nappearance of the subjective part of character (143). For an earlier\nperiod the rule not to argue with children holds good (164); that is,\nit holds good as long as we can get along with it. That stage, however,\nis passed when the pupil begins to reason for himself; in other words,\nwhen his thinking has acquired such consecutiveness that his thoughts\nno longer come and go as momentary fancies, but attain to permanency\nand coherence. Reasoning processes of this sort ought not to be left\nto themselves, nor can they be repressed by dictatorial decrees. The\neducator must now enter into his pupil\u2019s trains of reflection, must\nargue with him and prevent further development in the wrong direction.\n\nThe tendency to set up rules reveals itself early; for example, in the\ngames of children. Commands as to what to do are given every moment,\nonly these imperatives are imperfectly obeyed and often changed.\nNeither is there lack of original, childish resolutions; but they\ncan mean little so long as they do not remain the same. It is very\ndifferent when they acquire stability, when means and ends combine into\nplans, when execution is attempted under difficulties, and finally when\nthese resolves are thought in the forms of general concepts, thereby\nlaying claim to validity in possible future instances, and becoming\nthus transformed into maxims.\n\n173. The wise forethought essential to regulative training requires in\nthe first place that the teacher shall rather tolerate an inconvenient\ndiscussion than check a frank expression of opinion, provided the\nobjections of the pupil are indubitably sincere, and his vanity, we\nwill say, is not flattered too much by the unexpected consideration\naccorded to his remarks. The same foresight is to be exercised in\ncases where it proves impossible to convince the pupil at once. Here\nthe final judgment, instead of being insisted upon, should rather\nbe postponed; it will always be easy to point out to the pupil his\nlack of adequate knowledge and to refer him to future studies. The\npositiveness that usually characterizes the assertions of boys and\nyoung men, generally has its roots in their great ignorance. They have\nnot the least inkling of how many opinions have been held and disputed.\nInstruction will gradually cure them of their excessive self-confidence.\n\n  Only in a pure despotism would the enforcement of unquestioning\n  obedience to authority be admissible. No country aspiring to\n  political liberty could tolerate such a system. Even if all political\n  considerations were dismissed, the development of subjective\n  character alone would demand a condemnation of such a method. But in\n  a country like ours, where men are both personally and politically\n  self-governing, education to leadership is not second to education\n  to obedience. There comes a time, therefore, when argument is in\n  place, provided its purpose is to clarify the pupil\u2019s insight into\n  prudence or duty. It will not be too much to insist upon obedience\n  without argument with all pupils so far as the ordinary school\n  virtues--regularity, punctuality, silence, and industry--are\n  concerned. Old and young can see their necessity. When it comes to\n  the more intricate phases of conduct, the grounds for authority, if\n  it is still exercised, may be revealed through dialogue. It is the\n  constant effort of training to establish regulative principles in the\n  minds of the older pupils, so that within the range of their capacity\n  they may become self-governing. In other words, the moral plateaus of\n  Kant are to be attained, not at a bound, but by a gradual progress\n  in moral autonomy. Herein we see the superiority of Herbart\u2019s\n  conception of moral training. What Kant gave up as an unsolvable\n  problem, can be seen to be only a natural process. Says Kant, \u201cHow a\n  law can of itself directly determine the will is for human reason an\n  insoluble problem, for it is identical with the problem how a free\n  will is possible.\u201d[19] The difficulty with Kant\u2019s theory was that\n  he admitted no psychological means for attaining the free directive\n  power of the mind. He could only say to the child: \u201cYou are free; be\n  free. You are morally autonomous; exercise your power; be a free,\n  self-governing citizen.\u201d Kant regarded natural impulses, emotions,\n  desires, pleasures, interests, as impure, hence to be rejected. They\n  are indeed to be rejected as the final ends of character, but what\n  Kant did not recognize is that they are the psychological means\n  for attaining character. Primarily these feelings, far from being\n  radically bad, as he thought, are radically good, since they help to\n  furnish the necessary conditions of survival, both for the individual\n  and for the race. Hunger, fear, courage, combativeness, prudence,\n  sexual instinct, inquisitiveness, love of adornment, frugality,\n  and a hundred other elemental passions have preserved the race\n  from destruction in the past. A new set of social and intellectual\n  impulses will in the future provide the instruments of survival,\n  now that the field of evolution is transported from the jungle to\n  the city. It is through intellectual insights that new ideals are\n  formulated; it is through these elemental feelings that the active\n  powers of the mind are stirred up to motor efficiency for their\n  realization. From being biological means for physical survival,\n  the feelings of man have now become psychological means for civic\n  survival. Psychologically, therefore, men are not born free; they\n  become free. To become free they must have opportunity to exercise\n  freedom; at first within definite but widening limits while they are\n  under the tuition of the school; later within the limits set by civil\n  society; at last absolutely, when they have recognized that what is\n  rational law in society is the law of their own being.\n\n[19] \u201cSelections,\u201d p. 284.\n\n174. But the matter of greatest importance from the point of view of\ntraining is consistency or inconsistency of action. One who lightly\nsets up maxims must be made to feel the difficulty of living up to\nthem. In this way a mirror is held up to the pupils, partly in order to\nput to rout untenable maxims, and partly to reinforce valid principles.\n\nAmong the untenable maxims we include also those which, although in\naccord with prudence, would offend against morality. If the pupil does\nnot see already that they cannot be maintained, the application, by\nexhibiting their objectionable consequences, must bring to light their\ntrue character.\n\n175. Regulative training often calls for rousing words from the\nteacher. He has to remind the pupil of happenings in the past and\npredict future consequences in case his faults should continue; he has\nto induce him to look within himself for the purpose of tracing the\ncausal connection of his actions to its source. If, however, this was\ndone earlier, with a view to moral education, no long speeches are now\nneeded. Moreover, the teacher\u2019s remarks become calmer and briefer the\nmore effective they have been, the more he is justified in expecting\nindependent judgment on the part of the pupil, and finally the more\nfully the latter has entered upon that period during which he looks\nabout him to observe the words and actions of strangers. For, at the\ntime when he has begun to compare the new with the old, his receptivity\nfor the old is very weak, and soon vanishes completely; unless,\nindeed, the old had been deeply impressed beforehand.\n\n  The purpose of the \u201crousing word\u201d is to stimulate the mind to\n  exercise its dynamic force to moral ends. The pupil must not be\n  permitted to assume the attitude of negation, or to be a mere passive\n  observer, or an innocent, devoid alike of power and significance,\n  but he must be roused into a responsible character, an efficient\n  participant in life\u2019s activities. Successful appeal may be made to\n  insights already acquired, but theoretically held; to dispositions\n  implanted, but not yet actively exercised; to the application of\n  old habits to new uses. Even where appeal must be made against\n  objectionable conduct, it is better to apply the \u201cinhibition of\n  substitution\u201d to that of \u201cnegation.\u201d[20] While protesting against the\n  evil, point the way to the right road.\n\n[20] James, \u201cTalks on Psychology,\u201d p. 192.\n\n176. Fourth. The pupil is to be kept in a quiet frame of mind; his\nintellect in a state suitable for clear apprehension. To outbursts of\npassion this applies absolutely; not so generally to emotions. Above\nall, tranquillity is the condition for the formation of theoretical\njudgments and hence also, although not exclusively so, for laying the\nfoundation of morality.\n\nEvery desire may develop into passion, if the soul is so often and so\nlong in a desiring state that thoughts become focussed in the object\nlonged for, whereby plans shape themselves, hopes arise, and ill-will\ntoward others strikes root. Accordingly, watchful attention must be\ngiven to all persistent and recurrent desires.\n\n177. The most usual desires are those which arise from the physical\nneed of food and of bodily activity. Now the first step to take is,\nwhile guarding against excess, to satisfy these natural impulses in\norder to subdue the unruliness springing from unsatisfied cravings.\nWe ought not to permit hunger to tempt a boy to steal, nor encourage\ntruancy by making him sit still too long. This warning is not\nsuperfluous. Such things happen even in families where less irrational\npractices might be expected. Over-indulgence, to be sure, is of far\nmore frequent occurrence.\n\nWhen the natural wants have lost their sting, a positive and\nirrevocable refusal must be opposed to further desires. With it should\nbe combined some occupation capable of diverting the attention.\n\nIf the object which continues to excite desire can be removed, all the\nbetter. In one\u2019s own home this is more often practicable, and more\nnecessary as well, than in that of strangers. If the object cannot\nbe removed, gratification may be put off until some future time. The\nforegoing statement may be illustrated by reference to the eating of\nfruit from the tree. An unconditional prohibition carries with it a\ndangerous temptation to disobedience, while unconditional permission\nwould be equally inadmissible on account of the plucking of green\nfruit, let alone the possible injury to the orchards of others.\n\nAnalogy will suggest many similar applications of the rule given.\n\n178. Again, children must be watched at their games. The more free\nplay of the imagination we discover, and the more change there is,\nthe less cause for concern. But when the same game is frequently\nrepeated according to the same fixed rules, when a species of study is\ndevoted to it in order to attain special proficiency, passions may be\ngenerated, such, for instance, as an excessive fondness for playing at\ncards, even where no stakes are involved. Gambling must be forbidden\nentirely, and in case compliance with this prohibition is doubtful,\nobedience must be secured by watchful supervision.\n\n  To what end shall a teacher watch the games of children? To prevent\n  the bullying of the weak by the strong, to see that unfairness\n  does not creep in, to ward off vulgarity and profanity--these and\n  similar purposes will be in the mind of the teacher. One of the chief\n  functions of play, however, is to cultivate social efficiency. This\n  has two aspects, willingness to co\u00f6perate with a group and ability\n  to lead a group. It is necessary that there should be alternation\n  of leadership and co\u00f6peration. If one child is allowed to lead all\n  the time, he becomes overbearing; if another is always compelled to\n  follow, he becomes subservient. Each has a one-sided development.\n  Without discouraging unduly natural capacity for leadership, it\n  is well for the teacher quietly to see to it that each child has\n  his chance, both to lead and to follow. Just as the kindergarten\n  utilizes play to simulate the occupations of men, arousing sympathy\n  with them and respect for them, so the school may by proper\n  modification make the numerous group games, in which children\n  delight, a potent means for securing co\u00f6perative habits and a general\n  aptitude for social activities. Not a little attention is now paid\n  to the various forms of children\u2019s play. This is especially true of\n  such publications as the _Pedagogical Seminary_, published at Clark\n  University, Worcester, Massachusetts.\n\n179. An excellent means to avert the dangers connected with passionate\ntendencies is to engage in the acquisition of one of the fine arts, say\nmusic or drawing, even though there should be no more than a modicum of\ntalent. The student must be given to understand, however, that he is\nnot to take up the study of several musical instruments at once, nor\ngive himself up to distracting attempts in sundry branches of pictorial\nrepresentation. On the contrary, he is to strive consistently for\nproficiency in one definite direction.\n\nIn the total absence of aptitude we may avail ourselves of preferences\nof one kind or other, such as fondness for collecting plants or shells,\nfor work in papier-mach\u00e9, for joinery, for gardening even, etc.\n\nPoetical talent, highly desirable in itself, nevertheless demands a\nsolid counterweight in the shape of serious scholarly effort; for the\nyoung poet sets up claims that are likely to prove dangerous if he\nbecomes absorbed in them.\n\n  The importance of this suggestion can hardly be overestimated. It\n  is a case of the permanent inhibition of a host of possible evil\n  tendencies by substitution. The youth who can turn with pleasure\n  to his violin at every spare moment, never seriously misses the\n  companionship of his mates. He has, moreover, a never failing source\n  of enjoyment when there is nothing to interfere with his happiness,\n  and an equally inexhaustible source of consolation when the waves of\n  life are rough.\n\n180. Projects springing from passionate impulses, and betraying\ntheir existence by their interference with order, diligence, and\nthe distribution of time, must be resolutely thwarted. This step is\nrendered all the more urgent when several share in the same plan, above\nall when ostentation, party spirit, and rivalry enter as impelling\nfactors. Such things must not be allowed to gain ground; they very\nquickly vitiate the soil which education has been at such pains to\nprepare for tillage.\n\n181. The passions being kept at a distance, the successful grounding\nof the pupil in morality depends in general on the manner in which\ninstruction co\u00f6perates with his occupations. The branch of instruction\nprimarily most important in this respect is religious instruction. The\nmost immediate source, however, of the development of disposition is\nfound in the pupil\u2019s social environment, and it becomes the business\nof training to cultivate a right spirit or disposition. Let us,\ntherefore, take up the practical ideas one by one.\n\n  England and Germany are a unit in insisting upon the necessity of\n  religious instruction in the schools. Half the elementary schools\n  of the former country are in charge of the Church of England,\n  five per cent are controlled by Roman Catholics, three per cent\n  by Wesleyans, and some forty-two per cent by public boards of\n  education. All of these schools are subsidized by the state, yet\n  all, with few exceptions, give religious instruction. In Germany\n  there are but two strong religious organizations--the Roman Catholic\n  Church, mostly at the south, and the Lutheran, mostly at the north.\n  The state establishes all schools, furnishing most of the funds\n  for sustaining them and controlling their administration in large\n  measure; yet the morning hour of the day is devoted to instruction\n  in religion. Not so in the United States. Here, religious teaching\n  is, to all appearances, permanently excluded from the public\n  schools. In this condition of affairs there is but one resource:\n  we must the more diligently insist upon those things that reflect\n  the content of religion. That is, we must teach children to live in\n  close co\u00f6perative union with their fellows. The subjective side of\n  this training is portrayed in the sections that follow, where the\n  transformation of ethical insights into ethical habits is discussed.\n\n182. To speak of strife first, which cannot easily be wholly prevented\namong children, and which is present to their minds, at least as a\npossibility, self-help against unexpected bodily assaults cannot be\nforbidden. A determined self-defence is rather to be recommended, but\nself-defence paired with a merciful treatment of one\u2019s assailant. On\nthe other hand, it is necessary to prohibit absolutely any arbitrary\nappropriation of objects, even though these objects should consist\nof ownerless or discarded trifles. No one must imagine that his mere\npleasure is a law unto others. On the contrary, children ought to get\nused to limitations on ownership. That which has been given them for a\ncertain purpose is to be used for that purpose alone, and must be taken\ncare of with that purpose in view. Promises among children should not\nlightly be declared void, however foolish and impossible of fulfilment.\nThe boy who, by a hasty promise, puts himself in an embarrassing\nposition must be made conscious of the fact. Let his perplexity serve\nas a warning for the future. But over-hasty promises are to be accepted\nas little as they are to be made; and here is where we have to begin in\nuntying the knots in which children occasionally entangle themselves.\n\nIt is not undesirable that pupils by their own acts furnish themselves\nwith a few keenly-felt instances of complicated questions of rights.\nBut pleasure in wrangling must be discountenanced; the pupils should\nlearn to prevent and to avoid contention. They may gain enough\nfamiliarity with it to realize that it gives displeasure.\n\n183. At this point two paths open to our reflection. In the first\nplace, contention pleases children because it implies strength; in\nseeking it they are, as a rule, merely giving vent to excess of animal\nspirits. The outlet in this direction we must block, but we must\nfurnish another elsewhere. Gymnastic exercises, too, are exhibitions\nof strength; emulation, which is not contention, is a welcome\nfeature of sport and play. Mental activity likewise affords suitable\nopportunities for excelling; it also provides proper occasions for\nmaking comparisons; but relative excellence, children must understand\ndistinctly, is not to be advanced by them as a basis for claims. Where\nthe question is one of degree of attainment,--therefore one of _perfice\nte_,--the pupil is supplied with a practically useful standard by his\nown progress and retrogression. To hold up one pupil as a model for\nanother to follow awakens envy; it will be much better, instead, to\nmake allowances where a weak pupil cannot do more than he is actually\ndoing.\n\n  In all the ages of the past men have been the teachers of boys. Being\n  men, they have naturally taken the man\u2019s attitude toward youthful\n  conduct. When one boy is gratuitously assaulted by another, they have\n  upheld a sturdy self-defence as belonging to self-respect. In their\n  eyes an unsuccessful defence is better than a cowardly retreat. With\n  the advent of women as the teachers of boys it is natural that the\n  doctrine of passive non-resistance should be emphasized. When women\n  were only the physical mothers of the race, there was no danger of\n  the decay of virility, but now that they have become the intellectual\n  mothers as well, there may be such a danger. It is generally\n  conceded that the English boys\u2019 schools, like Eton, Harrow, and\n  Rugby, have been the best English conservers of independent manhood,\n  for there every boy stood on his own merits, having to fight his own\n  battles, being responsible for his own conduct, and at the same time\n  living under a high code of boyish honor. In our own public schools,\n  where no such _esprit de corps_ is possible, and where the doctrine\n  of peace at any price is likely to be insisted upon, it is possible\n  that there may be a distinct decline of virility in the boys. Such\n  a result would be deplorable; it would work to the detriment of\n  public education, and would decrease in public estimation the value\n  of woman\u2019s services in the schoolroom. While discouraging strife, a\n  teacher may, by a word of approval or excuse, justify an exercise of\n  primitive defence of the person against unwarranted assault. Manly\n  social games, like foot-ball, basket-ball, base-ball, are our best\n  resources in developing those phases of character that are closely\n  associated with motor efficiency. Here under proper guidance,\n  self-control, sense of power and efficiency, courage, and almost\n  every characteristic of virility may be happily developed. That\n  forethought and supervision are needed is most true, else unlovely\n  traits of character may easily get the upper hand.\n\n184. The second of the two ways alluded to takes us from the idea of\nrights to that of equity. Strife is displeasing, but revenge still\nmore, notwithstanding the truth of the saying: what is fair for one\nis fair for another. Children may indeed exercise their ethical\nacumen by trying to determine how much one deserves to suffer or to\nreceive at the hands of others for the liberties he has taken or the\nself-restraint he has practised, but they are not to arrogate to\nthemselves the function of inflicting punishments or of bestowing\nrewards. Without surrendering their own insight, they must in this\nrespect submit willingly to the authority of their superiors.\n\nA similar course is to be pursued with reference to the distribution\nof presents, enjoyments, and marks of approval. To avoid giving the\nappearance of favoritism, the teacher should not, except for very good\nreasons, depart from the principle of equal division; but, on the other\nhand, he should refuse to accord to the pupils a right to these free\ngifts. While permitting them to have an opinion on the appropriateness\nof a greater or smaller share, he will properly deny them any right to\ndemand by virtue of this opinion.\n\n185. In cases deeply engaging the children\u2019s own sense of justice and\nequity, complaisance and readiness to yield should not be exacted on\nthe spot. Children must have time to get to the end of their thoughts,\nand to weary of what is often very fruitless brooding, before they\nrealize that to yield is after all a necessity, and hence in no sense a\nmatter of magnanimous choice. At some future time they may be reminded\nthat their path would have been smoother if the sentiment of good-will\nhad been in control from the beginning and had arbitrated the dispute,\nor rather had prevented it entirely.\n\nGood-will is to be revered everywhere as higher than right; still the\nlatter must be represented as something that cannot be set aside with\nimpunity, unless it be by common agreement; that is, in consequence of\nthe consent of the holders of rights.\n\n  There are two distinct aspects to good-will,--the benevolent, and\n  the co\u00f6perative or social. The well-known story of the Jericho Road\n  illustrates the first. He is the good neighbor who rescues the life\n  of the man who has been assaulted by the way. But social good-will\n  is more than benevolence; it is co\u00f6peration for the accomplishment\n  of common purposes. Among farmers it means mutual care to prevent\n  aggression, because of unruly stock or bad fences; it involves\n  combined efforts for good schools, good roads, public libraries,\n  educational agencies for promoting successful farming, associations\n  for promoting successful pleasures. In cities social good-will means\n  co\u00f6peration for paving and lighting streets, for the suppression of\n  crime, for furnishing good water and efficient sewerage, for defence\n  against fire, for rapid transit, besides the myriad agencies for\n  promoting the mental, moral, and spiritual welfare of the people.\n  A man in a city needs to be a good neighbor to everybody, even\n  though he may know personally but one in a million. In other words,\n  the civic man must be a brother, not only to him who falls among\n  thieves, but to him who lives among them; not only to his brother in\n  adversity, but also to his brother in prosperity.\n\n186. Finally, the degrees of difference among older boys, and\nespecially among young men, with respect to the nearness with which\nthey approach the still distant realization of the idea of inner\nfreedom, are, as a rule, sufficiently marked to be patent to all. The\nsuperior excellence of those distinguished for steady and rational\nconduct is usually dwelt on by the teacher rather too much than too\nlittle; children are themselves too keen in observing each other\u2019s\nshortcomings not to see how far behind the best some are. We ought,\ntherefore, rather to avoid stimulating in children the tendency to\nbelittle others, than to turn their attention to that which does not\nescape them anyway.\n\n187. The bad conduct of adults near to the pupils will not, of course,\nbe exposed by the teacher; and if publicly known, the example set\nwill repel more than allure, so long as self-interest does not prompt\nimitation or a search for excuses. But we need not entertain much\nhope either that a worthy example will be followed; youth is too\nprone to regard rectitude as a matter of course. Hence it will not be\nsuperfluous to call special attention to right conduct, and to give\nexpression to the esteem which is its due. This applies particularly\nto the time when a growing boy\u2019s outlook over society widens, and he\nbegins to compare many things whose false glitter might deceive him.\n\n  There are many aspects of inner freedom. It is possible for a\n  narrow-minded man to live in perfect tranquillity, so far as his\n  conscience is concerned. Even if one lived true to Kant\u2019s categorical\n  imperative, which says, \u201cSo act that the maxims, or rules, of your\n  conduct might, through your own will, become universal laws,\u201d it\n  would still be possible for one to have a mind at peace with itself\n  while doing things that a higher code of morality would forbid. For\n  example, suppose I am an American Indian, and the question arises,\n  Shall I torture my enemies? Of course: do not the traditions of my\n  tribe prescribe it? This simply means that our ideals of conduct\n  grow out of our environment; they are social in their genesis. This\n  truth shows the infinite importance of making instruction reveal\n  clearly the best ideals of religion and civilization, for there may\n  be as much inward freedom, or good conscience, in the slums as in the\n  wealthy districts of the city. Subjective peace of mind may mean much\n  or little. A murderer may sleep as soundly as a missionary, but a man\n  of high ideals is whipped as with scorpions, if his conduct be base.\n  He feels that his higher self is outraged; he has no peace except\n  through repentance, restitution, and reform.\n\n188. Fifth. The pupil\u2019s mind, we will suppose, has been properly\ndirected, partly through the social relations obtaining among children,\npartly through examples and instruction, to the requirements of the\nvarious moral ideas, and he has learned accordingly to discriminate\nwith some keenness between will relations. Now the time has arrived for\nmoral education in the strict sense. For we cannot leave it to chance\nwhether our young charges will, of their own initiative, synthesize\nfor themselves noble actions on the one hand and base actions on the\nother, whether they will take time to reflect, and will, each for\nhimself, apply the lessons taught. On the contrary, they all have to\nbe told, each one individually has to be told, truths that no one is\nwont to hear with pleasure. The more thoroughly the teacher knows his\npupils, the better. By showing them that he divines their thoughts, he\nsupplies them with the most effectual incentive to self-observation.\nNow the basis of what is commonly known as moralizing is furnished\nby a retrospective view of the pupil\u2019s conduct for some time past,\nby references to influences formerly at work within him, and by an\nanalysis of his good and bad qualities. Such teaching is by no means\nto be condemned, nor even to be regarded as superfluous. In its proper\nplace it is absolutely essential. Many, it is true, grow up without\never having heard a serious word of deserved censure, but no one ought\nto grow up in that way.\n\n189. Only praise and censure are thought of here, not harsh words, much\nless harsh treatment. Reprimands and punishments following upon single\nacts are something different; they, too, may lead to moral reflections,\nbut must first have become things of the past. Moral improvement is not\nbrought about by the constraint of government, nor is it the result\nof those pedagogical punishments which warn the pupil and sharpen his\nwits by means of the natural consequences of actions (157). But it is\nbrought about through the imitation of the language of conscience and\nof genuine honor, as seen in impartial spectators. Moreover, this\ndoes not exclude consideration of the excuses which every one readily\nfinds in his heart. But while due allowance is made for mitigating\ncircumstances, the pupil is cautioned against relying on them in future.\n\n190. Ordinarily youth deserves neither strong commendation nor severe\ncriticism, and it is well to guard carefully against exaggeration\nin either direction, if for no other reason than merely this, that\nexaggeration either detracts from effectiveness, or else causes,\nif not timidity, at least an unfortunate embarrassment. There is\none species of magnifying, however, which subserves a good purpose,\nbecause it enables pupils to see more clearly the importance of\ntrifles and the great significance of their own actions, and in this\nway helps to counteract thoughtlessness. We refer to viewing the\npresent in the light of the future. The pettiest faults are liable to\ngrow through habit; the faintest desire, unless kept under control,\nmay turn into passion. Then, too, the future circumstances of one\u2019s\nlife are uncertain; allurements and temptations may come into it, or\nunlooked-for misfortunes. This prevision of the possibilities of the\nfuture is, of course, not prophecy, and no such claim should be made\nfor it; nevertheless, it does good service as a warning.\n\n191. When the pupil has been brought to the point where he regards\nhis moral education as a matter of serious import, instruction in\nconjunction with a growing knowledge of the world may bring it about\nthat a glow of moral sentiment permeates his whole thought, and that\nthe idea of a moral order unites on the one hand with his religious\nconcepts, and with his self-observation on the other. Henceforth the\ndirect, emphatic expression of praise or censure will have to be less\nfrequent. It will no longer be as easy as formerly to give a clearer\naccount to the pupil of what goes on within him than he has already\nrendered to himself. We may still, however, come to his assistance from\nanother direction, namely, that of general concepts,--a field in which\nadvancing youthful reflection is little by little finding its bearings.\n\n192. Sixth. It is the business of training to remind at the right\nmoment and to correct faults. We may safely assume that, even after a\nyoung man has reached the plane of moral decisions, he will still stand\nin need of frequent reminders, although in this respect individuals\nexhibit great differences, which observation alone is able to reveal.\nBut that which he is reminded of consists of resolves which lay claim\nto something like universal validity, but which are not likely to make\ngood that claim when incorrectly formulated or conceived in the wrong\nconnection. General considerations become predominant with only a very\nfew at best; but youth especially sees and experiences so much that\nis new that the old is easily slighted for the new, and, accordingly,\nthe general for the particular still more. Nevertheless, it is far\neasier for training to remind and to correct with success where a good,\nfirm foundation has been laid, than it is to support (161\u2013166) when in\nadolescence nothing is found by which the pupil might try to steady\nhimself.\n\n193. It is evident from the wide divergence among the principles which\nschools old and new have accepted as the basis of ethics and of systems\nof justice, that many conflicting, or at any rate, one-sided views may\narise when the attempt is made to introduce order, definiteness, and\nconsistency into existing ethical concepts. This whole conflict and\none-sidedness of opinion, together with the innumerable fluctuations\nthat may find a place here besides,--all this is likely to be\nreproduced in youthful minds, particularly where they make it a point\nof going their own way. Very frequently acquired principles adjust\nthemselves to inclinations; the subjective side of character adapts\nitself to the objective. Now, while it is the business of instruction\nto correct error, training must avail itself of those opportunities\nthat reveal a directing of thoughts by inclination.\n\n194. When, however, the pupil has once established confidence\nin his disposition as well as in his principles, training must\nwithdraw. Unnecessary judging and over-anxious observation would only\nimpair naturalness, and give rise to extraneous motives. When once\nself-culture has been assumed, it should be left alone.\n\n\n\n\nSECTION IV\n\nSYNOPSIS OF GENERAL PEDAGOGICS FROM THE POINT OF VIEW OF AGE\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\n=The First Three Years=\n\n\n195. Owing to the delicate character of the thread of life during\nthe earliest years, care for the body, a subject falling outside the\nlimits of the present discussion, has precedence of everything else.\nThe state of health, accordingly, implies great variations in the time\navailable for profitable culture of the mind. But short as this time\nmay be, it is extremely important, because of the great receptivity and\nsusceptibility of the first period of life.\n\n  The lines of study suggested by these few remarks upon infancy have\n  been arduously pursued in recent years by Perez,[21] Preyer,[22]\n  Baldwin,[23] and others. The attempt has been made in these works\n  to show how the psychical and physical powers of the young child\n  actually unfold. In this way it has been possible to correct many\n  erroneous deductions from adult psychology, thus making elementary\n  training more successful.\n\n[21] Perez, \u201cThe First Three Years of Childhood.\u201d\n\n[22] Preyer, (a) \u201cMental Development in the Child,\u201d (b) \u201cThe\nDevelopment of the Intellect,\u201d (c) \u201cThe Senses and the Will.\u201d\n\n[23] Baldwin, (a) \u201cMental Development in the Child and the Race,\u201d\n(b) \u201cSocial and Ethical Interpretations.\u201d\n\n196. Those moments when the child is fully awake and free from\nsuffering should always be utilized by presenting, but not obtruding,\nsomething for sense-perception. Powerful impressions are to be avoided.\nThe same caution applies to violent changes; very slight variations\noften suffice to revive waning attention. It is desirable to secure a\ncertain completeness of eye- and ear-impressions, so that the senses\nmay be equally at home everywhere within the fields of sight and sound.\n\n197. As far as safety permits, the spontaneous activity of the child\nshould have free play, primarily that he may get practice in the use of\nevery limb, but also in order that by his own attempts his observations\nof objects and their changeableness may be enlarged.\n\n198. Unpleasant, repellent impressions of persons, whoever they are,\nmust be most carefully guarded against. No one can be allowed to treat\na child as a plaything.\n\n199. On the other hand, no one must allow himself to be ruled by a\nchild, least of all when the child becomes importunate. Otherwise,\nwilfulness will be the inevitable consequence, a result almost\nunavoidable with sickly children, by reason of the attention demanded\nby their sufferings.\n\n200. A child must always feel the superiority of adults, and often his\nown helplessness. The necessary obedience is founded on this feeling.\nWith consistent treatment, persons constantly about the child will\nsecure obedience more readily than others who are rarely present.\nOutbursts of passion must be given time to subside unless circumstances\nurgently require a different course.\n\n201. On rare occasions there may be an exhibition of force inspiring\nenough fear to make a threat effective and to check an excess of animal\nspirits. For if government is to escape the extremely harmful necessity\nof severe disciplinary measures later on, it must become firmly\nestablished during the earliest years of childhood.\n\n202. The language of children demands scrupulous attention from the\nbeginning, in order to prevent the formation of incorrect and careless\nhabits of speech, which at a later period it usually requires much\ntrouble and loss of time to eradicate. But literary forms of expression\nthat are beyond the comprehension of children are to be strictly\navoided.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\n=The Ages from Four to Eight=\n\n\n203. The real boundary line is fixed not by age, but by that stage of\ndevelopment when the helplessness of the first stage is superseded by\ncontrol of the limbs and a connected use of language. And the mere\nfact that children are now able to free themselves from much momentary\ndiscomfort carries with it greater calmness and cheerfulness.\n\n204. In proportion as the child learns to help himself, assistance from\nwithout must be withdrawn. At the same time government must increase\nin firmness, and with many children in severity, until the last traces\nof that wilfulness vanish, which the former period does not as a rule\nwholly escape. But this presupposes that no one provoke the child\nunnecessarily to any kind of resistance. The firmer the established\norder of things about the child, the readier his compliance.\n\n205. The child must be given as much freedom as circumstances will\npermit, one purpose being to induce frank self-expression, and to\nobtain data for a study of his individuality. Still, the main thing\nat this age is to guard against bad habits, especially such as are\nconnected with objectionable tendencies of disposition.\n\n206. Two of the ethical ideas concern us here directly, each, however,\nin its own way. They are the ideas of good-will and perfection. Some\nparticular aspects of the latter a child will almost always hit upon\nhimself. The former less often springs up spontaneously; it has to be\nimplanted, and this cannot always be done directly.\n\n207. The ill-will, which many children exhibit frequently, is always\na bad sign,--one that needs to be treated very seriously. A character\nonce perverted in this respect can no longer be radically changed\nfor the better. And this perversion sometimes begins very early. The\nsteps to be taken in this connection are determined by the following\nconsiderations:--\n\n208. In the first place, younger children are not to be left alone very\nmuch. Their life should be a social life, and their social circle one\nsubject to strict order. This requirement fulfilled, all manifestations\nof ill-will are at variance with the rule; and as soon as they appear,\nthe child finds himself opposed by the existing state of things. Now,\nthe more he has grown accustomed to participation in the common will,\nto occupying his time, and being happy within its pale, the less will\nhe be able to bear the feeling of isolation. To punish a child for an\nexhibition of ill-will, leave him alone.\n\n209. But such punishment presupposes the undiminished sensitiveness of\nthe younger child, who, on being left alone, begins to cry, and feels\nutterly helpless and weak, but who, on the other hand, becomes cheerful\nagain the moment he is readmitted into the social circle. If this\nperiod has been neglected, if the ill-disposed child has already caused\naversion in the circle in which he could have been happy, one feeling\nof ill-will begets another in return, and nothing remains but to insist\non strict justice.\n\n210. The mere social spirit which keeps ill-will at a distance, is, of\ncourse, very far from being good-will; children are even prone to look\nupon descriptive illustrations of the latter, in the ordinary run of\nbooks for children, as fables easily invented. Hence the first thing\nto make sure of is faith in good-will. We have in mind here especially\nthe child who through force of habit has lost his appreciation of the\nkindnesses constantly showered upon him in the course of his education.\nDeprive him of some of the care to which he is accustomed; its renewal\nwill then make him recognize and prize it as a voluntary act. When,\non the contrary, children regard what is being done for them as their\nright, or as the effect of some sort of mechanism, this blunder of\ntheirs becomes a fruitful source of the most manifold moral evils.\n\n211. To the union of kindness with the necessary degree of severity, we\nmust add friendliness, lest the heart of the child become chilled, and\nthe germs of good-will perish. During the period under consideration,\nthe child\u2019s frame of mind is still determined directly by the treatment\nhe receives. Continued unfriendliness of manner produces dull\nindifference. The twofold problem of lifting the idea of good-will into\nadequate prominence and of actually awakening sentiments of good-will\ncan, it is true, not be solved as early as childhood. But much has been\ngained if sympathy, supported by sociable cheerfulness, unites with a\nbelief in the good-will of those on whom the child feels dependent, as\nif they were higher beings. The soil is ready now for religious culture\nand its furthering influences.\n\n212. The idea of perfection in its universal aspect is indeed as\nforeign to the child\u2019s mind as that of good-will; nevertheless, the\nrudiments of what this idea implies can be imparted with far greater\nassurance of success. As the child grows and thrives, his strength\nand accomplishments increase likewise, and he takes pleasure in his\nown progress. But here innumerable differences in kind and in degree\ndemand our observation, particularly in view of the purpose of linking\ninstruction to the stage of growth. For it is during this period that\nsynthetic as well as analytic instruction begins, although it does not\nas yet normally constitute the chief occupation of the child.\n\n213. As the child\u2019s sphere of free activity widens and his own\nattempts create a growing store of experiences, which the teacher will\noften find it very necessary to augment by purposely showing him about,\nthe earlier fancies are gradually being overbalanced by experiential\nknowledge, although different individuals may exhibit great variations\nof ratio. From this impulse to appropriate the new, spring the numerous\nquestions children put to the teacher, on the tacit assumption that he\nis omniscient. They are the outcome of the mood of the moment, they are\npurposeless, and most of them do not recur if not answered then and\nthere. Many of them concern words alone, and cease on mention of some\nsuitable designation of the object in question. Others relate to the\nconnection of events, especially to motives underlying the actions of\nhuman beings, fictitious and real alike. Now, although many questions\ncannot, while others must not, be answered, the tendency to ask\nquestions should, generally speaking, receive constant encouragement as\na sign of native interest, of the absence of which the teacher often\nbecomes painfully aware later on without being able by any skill on his\npart to revive it. Here an opportunity is presented for preparing the\nground in many directions for future instruction. Only, the teacher\nhas to refrain, in answering questions, from the prolixity of untimely\nthoroughness; what he ought to do is to sail on the waves of childish\nfancy. And this does not usually lend itself to experiments; its\nmovements are, on the contrary, often inconveniently capricious.\n\n214. So long as there can be no fixed time for the analytic lessons\nwoven into answers to the questions of children, analytic instruction\nis coincident with the guidance of the child\u2019s attention, with his\nsocial intercourse, with his occupations and the consequent cultivation\nof habits, with hardening exercises, ethical judgments, and the\nearliest religious impressions; in some measure also with reading\nexercises.\n\n215. To the latter portion of this period belong the first steps in\nsynthetic instruction, reading, writing, ciphering, the simplest modes\nof arrangement, and the first observation exercises. If the child\nis as yet incapable of uniform attention during a whole hour, the\nteacher will be satisfied with smaller divisions of time; the degree of\nattention is more important than its duration.\n\nNote that the subjects enumerated fall into different groups. Counting,\narranging, observing, are different phases of the natural development\nof the mind. Instruction does not create these activities; its business\nis merely to accelerate them. At the beginning, therefore, our mode\nof procedure must be as much as possible analytic. On the other hand,\nreading and writing can be taught only synthetically, although on the\nbasis of an antecedent analysis of speech sounds.\n\n(1) Arranging--commonly neglected, though wrongly so--is an\nexceedingly easy exercise in itself, and facilitates the performance of\nmany other tasks. It is therefore appropriate for children. That three\nobjects may change places from right to left (from front to rear, from\nabove to below) and _vice versa_--this is the beginning. The next step\nis to show that three objects admit of six permutations in a straight\nline. To find how many pairs can be formed out of a given number of\nobjects, is one of the easiest problems. How far to go, is a matter to\nbe determined by circumstances. Not letters, however, but objects,--the\nchildren themselves,--should be changed about, permuted, and varied in\nposition. The teaching of a subject like this must in a measure have\nthe semblance of play.\n\n(2) The first observation exercises begin with straight lines drawn\nvertically or cross-wise. Use may be made also of knitting needles\nvariously placed, side by side or across each other, of domino checks,\nand of similar objects. Next comes the circle, subdivided and presented\nin manifold ways.\n\n(3) For arithmetic, likewise, concrete objects are needed,--coins,\nfor example, which are counted and arranged in different groups to\nillustrate sums, differences, and products. At first the highest number\nemployed should not exceed, say, twelve or twenty.\n\n(4) For work in reading we may avail ourselves of letters and numbers\nprinted on cards, which lend themselves to a variety of arrangements.\nIf children are slow about learning to read, the blunder must not be\nmade of neglecting their mental culture in other directions, as though\nreading were its necessary prerequisite. Reading often demands a large\namount of patience, and should never be allowed to produce a feeling of\naversion to teachers and books.\n\n(5) Writing is ushered in by the elementary drawing that must accompany\nobservation exercises. Writing itself, when once well started, furthers\nreading.\n\n216. But already at this point many fall behind. Puzzled at first by\nthe demand upon them for the dull labor of learning, they surrender\nthemselves later on to the feeling of incapacity. In large schools,\nwhere there are always some outstripping the rest, and where the\nmajority are trying to keep up with the pace set, performance can be\nhad more readily, although it is performance by imitation rather than\nby an inner sequence of thought. And even here we find thoroughly\ndisheartened laggards.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\n=Boyhood=\n\n\n217. The boundary line between boyhood and early childhood is fixed, so\nfar as this is possible at all, by the fact that the boy, if allowed to\ndo so, will leave the company of adults. Formerly he felt insecure when\nleft alone: now he considers himself fairly well acquainted with his\nimmediate environment, beyond which vistas of all sorts are opening.\nAccordingly, at this stage it becomes incumbent on the adult to attach\nhimself to the boy, to restrain him, to divide the time for him, and\nto circumscribe the fancies born of his self-confidence,--a course of\naction rendered all the more necessary by the circumstance that the boy\nis a stranger as yet to the timidity with which the youth joins the\nranks of men. For boyhood is marked off from adolescence by this, that\nthe boy\u2019s aims are still unsettled; he plays and takes no thought of\nto-morrow. Moreover, his dream of manhood is one of arbitrary power.\nThe play-impulse remains active for a long time, unless checked by\nconventionality.\n\nDuring this period, the work of linking instruction to sense-impression\nis by no means to be omitted entirely, not even where fair progress\nhas already been made in scholarship. We must make sure of a solid\nfoundation.\n\n218. Our chief concern during the age of boyhood must be to prevent\nthe premature fixation of the circle of ideas. It is for instruction\nto undertake the task of doing so. True, by far the greatest part of\nthe process of learning, however manifold, is performed through the\ninterpretation of words, the pupil supplying the meaning out of the\nmental store collected previously. But this very fact obviously implies\nthat quantitively the pupil\u2019s stock of ideas is for the most part\ncomplete; instruction merely works it up into new forms. Accordingly,\nsuch shaping must take place while the material is still in a plastic\nstate; for with increasing years it gradually assumes a more solid\ncharacter.\n\n219. Boys differ from girls, individuals differ from one another;\nand the subjects taught, together with the methods of teaching them,\nshould be differentiated accordingly. But here the family interposes\nthe interests of rank or station, and claims the right to determine by\nthese how much or how little instruction a boy needs.\n\nLooked at pedagogically, each study calls for a corresponding mental\nactivity to be suited to the general condition of the individual. Its\nsuccess must not involve exhaustion of the pupil\u2019s powers, nor make\ndemands upon them at the wrong time.\n\nBut it would be an error to argue that one who is being initiated\ninto one subject ought to combine with that subject a second, third,\nor fourth, on the ground that subjects one, two, three, and four are\nessentially interrelated. This conclusion holds for scholars, who,\nso far as they are personally concerned, have long passed beyond\npreliminary pedagogical considerations, and even in their case it\napplies only to those branches which are intimately connected with\ntheir specialties; it has nothing to do with the psychological\nconditions by which the course of education must be governed. Only too\nfrequently do masses of ideas remain isolated despite the fact that\nthe objects corresponding to them are most intimately and necessarily\ninterconnected; and such isolation could not have been prevented by\nmerely starting work in a large web of erudition in a number of places.\n\nThe case is different where certain studies constitute the necessary\npreparation for thorough knowledge of one kind or another. Here we are\nright in concluding that one who cannot master the former is equally\nunable to get hold of the latter.[24]\n\n[24] These remarks upon correlation are instructive in view of later\ndevelopments of the Herbartian school in Germany. The reader is\nreferred to discussions in the First and Second Year-Books of the\nNational Herbart Society.\n\n220. It is difficult to deal with the rare instances of tardy\ndevelopment unless we find that they are due to neglected health,\nor to lack of assistance in enlarging the range of experience, and\nto failure to change the mode of instruction. Here an attempt may be\nmade to supply what is wanting. But even where the rate of progress\nbecomes more rapid at once, the teacher\u2019s efforts will have turned\nout favorably only when the boy gives also clear proof of a vigorous\nstriving for advancement.\n\n221. To revert to fundamental ethical principles, particular mention of\nthe ideas of justice and equity needs to be made in this connection.\nThese ideas issue from reflection on human relations; they are\nconsequently less accessible to early childhood, which finds itself\nsubordinated everywhere to the family. The boy, on the other hand,\nlives more among his peers, and the necessary corrections are not\nalways administered so promptly as to leave no time for independent\njudgment. Not infrequently voluntary association takes place among\nboys, personal authority plays a part, and even usurpation of power is\nnot rare. Now, education has to provide for clear ethical concepts and\nfor government and training besides. But not only that; it must also\nfurnish the kind of instruction that will exhibit similar but remote\nrelations, for purposes of unbiassed contemplation. Such instruction\nmust borrow its material from poetry and history.\n\n222. To history we are referred by still another consideration. As\nhas already been shown (206\u2013211), the idea of good-will points to\nthe necessity of religious culture; and this relies for support on\nstories, old stories at that. The expansion of the pupil\u2019s power of\nthought which is here demanded must be generally attained, even though\nvery incompletely, in every course of instruction, that of the village\nschool included.\n\n223. Another fixed goal, the importance of which exceeds even that of\nreading and writing, is furnished by arithmetic, which gives clearness\nto the common concepts of experience, and is indispensable in the\npractical affairs of life.\n\n224. Decimal arithmetic no pupil would be likely to think out by\nhimself; he would very certainly not invent Bible history. Both must\naccordingly be regarded as belonging pre\u00ebminently to the province of\nsynthetic instruction, which always involves the difficult problem of\nhow to assure its entrance, as a potent factor, into existing masses\nof ideas. As to this, it would be a blunder to conclude that, since\nBible history and history as a whole, arithmetic and mathematics as\na whole, hang together, there is also a corresponding pedagogical\nconnection (219). But so much is certain, that the efficiency of\na group of ideas increases with expansion and with multiplied\nassociation. It will be an advantage, therefore, to Bible history\nand to arithmetic, if as wide a range is given to historical and\nmathematical teaching as circumstances and ability permit, even if\nthe conditions should be such that a many-sided culture is not to be\nexpected.\n\n225. The subjects next to be considered in the choice of material for\ninstruction are poetry and natural history, great care being taken\nnot to disregard the necessary sequence. The time for fables and\nstories should not be curtailed; it is important to make sure that\nboys do not lose the taste for them too early. The easiest and safest\nfacts of zo\u00f6logy will have been presented already in connection with\nthe picture-books of childhood. The right moment for introducing the\nelements of botany has arrived when the boy is collecting plants.\nForeign languages would be assigned the lowest place, if particular\ncircumstances did not in many cases lend them a special importance.\nThe ancient classical languages, at any rate, form to such an extent\nthe basis of the study of theology, of jurisprudence, and of medicine,\nthey are so necessary to all higher scholarship, that they will\nalways constitute the fundamental branches of instruction in academic\npreparatory schools.\n\nIt is obvious, however, that the extent of instruction depends too\nmuch on external conditions of rank and means to permit a definite\nprescription of instruction-material for all cases. Far less dependent\nis the development of many-sided interest in its relation to branches\nof study. If the limits set to the latter are narrow, it is still the\nbusiness of instruction to secure an approximation to many-sided\nculture; while under highly favorable circumstances the very abundance\nof educational help must put the teacher on his guard against losing\nsight of the real aim of instruction.\n\n226. Frequently the burden of necessary and useful studies is made\nexcessively heavy, a fact which the members of the teaching profession\ntry to conceal from themselves, but which attracts the attention of\noutsiders. A few hours of gymnastics do not sufficiently counteract\nsuch evil effects. As an offset we have at best the prevention of\nthe vices of idleness. From every point of view, for the mere reason\nthat this matter calls for special attention and that the method of\nprocedure has to be determined in accordance with the results of\nobservation, the home must do its part toward relieving that natural\nstrain which even good instruction exerts--and the school must not\nencroach on the time necessary for that purpose. In extreme cases, to\nbe sure, it may be expressly demanded that the school engage the whole\nof a boy\u2019s time. But, as a rule, outside school-work should take up,\nnot the largest, but, on the contrary, the smallest amount of time\npossible. How the remaining hours are to be employed is for parents\nand guardians to decide according to individual needs, ascertained\nby observation; and it is on them that the responsibility for the\nconsequences rests.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\n=Youth=\n\n\n227. Whether instruction comes to an end or is continued during\nthis period, all it can accomplish depends now on the fulfilment\nof the condition that the young man himself regard the retention\nand increase of his attainments as something valuable. Accordingly,\nthe interrelations of knowledge, as well as its connection with\naction, must be brought before his mind with the greatest possible\ndistinctness. He must be furnished, also, with the strongest incentives\nto reach the goal determined upon, provided the question is merely how\nto overcome indolence and thoughtlessness. For it is just at this stage\nthat the teacher needs to fear and to prevent those wrong motives which\nwould issue merely in an artificial semblance of talent.\n\n228. Moreover, the allowance made for the child and the boy can no\nlonger be made for the youth. His whole ability is to be put to the\ntest, and his position in human society determined according to the\noutcome. He must experience something of the difficulty of obtaining\na foothold among men. Positions for which he does not seem quite\nprepared are contested; he is surrounded by rivals, and is spurred\non by expectations, which it is often difficult to moderate when most\nnecessary.\n\n229. If now the young man puts his trust in favorable circumstances,\nand, in spite of all appeals, gives himself up to the pursuit of ease\nand pleasure, education is at an end. It only remains to conclude with\nprecepts and representations which future experiences may possibly\nrecall.\n\n230. If, on the other hand, the youth has his eyes fixed on a definite\ngoal, the form of life which he is striving to attain, and the motives\nthat impel him, will determine what else may be done for him. According\nas the ideals of honor that he makes his own are directed more\noutwardly or inwardly, they stand more or less midway between plans for\nactions and maxims.\n\n231. The youth is no longer pliant, except when his failures have made\nhim feel ashamed of himself. Such cases must be made use of for the\npurpose of making good deficiencies. But on the whole, duty requires\nthat the stern demands of morality be held up to him without disguise.\nPerfect frankness can hardly be looked for any longer, and to insist\non it is out of the question entirely. The reserve of the age of\nadolescence marks the natural beginning of self-control.\n\n  These brief paragraphs on the development of the individual through\n  infancy, childhood, boyhood, and youth, mark an early interest\n  in what is now known as child-study, the literature of which has\n  become voluminous. For a dissertation on the experimental study of\n  children, and a bibliography of the subject, the reader is referred\n  to the monograph by Arthur McDonald, of the United States Bureau of\n  Education, entitled \u201cExperimental Study of Children.\u201d A smaller but\n  more useful bibliography has been compiled by L. N. Wilson. It is\n  found in _Pedagogical Seminary_ for September, 1899.\n\n\n\n\nPART III\n\n_SPECIAL APPLICATIONS OF PEDAGOGICS_\n\n\n\n\nSECTION I\n\nREMARKS ON THE TEACHINGS OF PARTICULAR BRANCHES OF STUDY\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\n=Religion=\n\n\n232. The content of religious instruction is for theologians to\ndetermine, while philosophy bears witness that no knowledge is able to\nsurpass the trust of religious faith. But both the beginning and the\nend of religious instruction call for remarks from the point of view of\npedagogy.\n\nReligious instruction culminates, if it does not end, in the rite of\nconfirmation, and the subsequent admission to the Holy Communion. The\nformer is characteristic of a particular Christian denomination; the\nlatter, on the contrary, of the whole brotherhood of Christians.\nNow the profound emotion which marks the first Communion service\nshould imply a conquest over the feeling of separation from other\ndenominations, especially since the mere admission to Communion is\nconditioned on the general requirement of earnest ethical aspiration.\nIt is thus assumed that members of other confessions, provided they are\ncommunicants at all, have fulfilled the same condition. Preparatory\ninstruction must work toward this end all the more, since with many\npersons Christian love for those who differ from them in important\narticles of faith belongs to the more difficult duties. Moreover, the\nfact that this same instruction necessarily had to set forth clearly\nfundamental denominational differences, lends additional weight to the\nnecessity of inculcating the virtue of Christian charity.\n\n233. In academic schools, if Greek is begun early enough, it is\npossible to deepen the impressions of Christian teaching by the\ndialogues of Plato that bear on the death of Socrates, particularly\nthe \u201cCrito\u201d and the \u201cApology.\u201d Being the weaker, however, impressions\nof this sort should precede the time when the solemn initiation into\nChristian fellowship produces its whole powerful effect.\n\n234. Going back in thought, we find that the portion of religious\ninstruction which deals with characteristic denominational\ndistinctions, presupposes that which deals with tenets common to all\nChristians, and we find that this in turn has been preceded by Bible\nstories, including those of the Old Testament. But the question arises,\n\u201cMust we not go back to something more fundamental still?\u201d\n\n235. Religion cannot possibly be adequately presented by treating of it\nmerely as a perpetuation of something historical and past. The teacher\nmust needs make use also of the present testimony furnished by the\nadjustment of means to end, in nature. But even this, for which some\nknowledge of nature is prerequisite, and which leads up to the ideas of\nwisdom and power, is not the first step.\n\n236. True family feeling is elevated easily and directly to the idea\nof the Father, of the father and mother. Only where such feeling is\nwanting does it become necessary to make churches and Sunday observance\nthe starting-point as indications of humility and gratitude. An\nall-pervading love, providence, and watchful care constitute the first\nconcept of the Highest Being,--a concept limited by the mental horizon\nof the child, and expanding and becoming more elevated only by degrees.\n\n237. The process of elevating religious concepts and purifying them\nof unworthy admixtures must, however, have taken place, and the true\nconcepts must have been deeply impressed, before the mythological\nconceptions of antiquity become known; in which case the latter will\nproduce the right effect by the contrast between the manifestly\nfabulous and crude, and the worthy and sublime. If managed properly,\nthis subject presents no difficulties.\n\n238. But there are other difficulties,--difficulties growing out of\nindividual peculiarities. While some would be harmed by much talk\nabout sin, because they would thus either become acquainted with it,\nor else be filled with fantastic terror, there are others whom only\nthe strongest language can move, and still others who themselves\npreach against the sins of the world, and, at the same time, front the\nworld in proud security. Then there are those who brood over ethical\nproblems, and who, without having heard of Spinoza, argue that what the\nHighest Judge has permitted to happen he has approved of, whence might\nis the practical proof of right. There are contemners of mere morality,\nwho think that prayers will consecrate their evil actions. Isolated\ntraces of such perversions may indeed be met with even in children,\nespecially if their glib reproduction of the sermon, or worse yet,\ntheir praying aloud, has happened to receive praise.\n\nHence it is necessary to observe the effect of religious instruction on\neach individual. Another task for home training.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\n=History=\n\n\n239. The most common blunder that younger teachers of history are apt\nto make is that, without intending it, they become increasingly prolix\nin presentation. It is not that interest deepens, but that the network\nof events lures them, now one way, now another. This of itself evinces\npreparation; but mental preparation alone does not suffice; preliminary\npractice, too, is necessary.\n\n  Young teachers of history, like young teachers in other subjects, are\n  prone to error. What the prevailing error in a given study will be,\n  is likely to depend upon conventional methods of presenting it. In\n  Germany it is customary for the teacher himself to be the historian\n  through whose mind all historical knowledge passes on its way to\n  the children. But just as good writers of history are rare, so good\n  teachers of history are likely to be few, since in an important sense\n  they are at once teachers and oral historians. Where the text-book is\n  depended upon for the narrative, as in the United States, a different\n  difficulty presents itself to the teacher. What shall he do with the\n  text, all the pupils having read it? Perhaps the commonest method is\n  to call upon them one by one to reproduce it in class. But this is a\n  deadening process, since it compels nineteen pupils to sit passive\n  while the twentieth recites the words that the nineteen could repeat\n  equally well. If, therefore, the besetting fault of the teacher of\n  history in German is prolixity, that of the American teacher is\n  tediousness. The German method is that of primitive man, where the\n  legends of the tribe are handed down from father to son by word of\n  mouth; the American presentation of history is modern, where all the\n  resources of scholarship and the advantages of the printing press are\n  utilized. Each method has peculiar advantages, the former having the\n  possible charm of first-hand narrative, the latter that of accuracy\n  and comprehensiveness. The narrative method is greatly superior to\n  that of the text-book with children whose powers of reading are\n  not well developed; the text-book, together with its available\n  accessories, is greatly to be preferred with older pupils capable\n  of large amounts of reading. The following sections give a vivid\n  description of the narrative method at its best; the commentary will\n  attempt to show how the printed page may be made equally attractive,\n  and, at the same time, much more useful.\n\n240. If, to begin with, a purely chronological, but accurate,\noutline-view of history is to be imparted, the teacher must be able\nto traverse mentally the whole historical field, going with equal\nreadiness back, forward, or across (synchronistically). The notable\nnames must form definite groups and series; and the teacher must\npossess facility in making the most notable names stand out clearly\nfrom the groups, and in condensing the most salient points of a long\nseries into a short series.\n\n  If this mastery of subject-matter is important for the narrator, it\n  is equally important for the teacher who depends upon print for the\n  narration. Observation of current history teaching betrays the fact\n  that the teacher rarely becomes master of his material to such an\n  extent that he can throw it into new forms. As it stands in the book,\n  he probably knows it; but to take liberties with the facts, to expand\n  parts, or throw masses into brief outline, to make new groupings, or\n  to change a long series into a short one, usually lies beyond his\n  ability. This lesson the American teacher must learn through a better\n  mastery of his materials.\n\n241. Again, the teacher must make himself perfectly familiar with\ngeneral notions that relate to classes of society--constitutions,\ninstitutions, religious customs, stages of culture--and that serve\nto explain events. But not only this; he must study likewise the\nconditions under which he can develop them and keep them present in\nthe minds of his pupils. This consideration alone shuts out most\ngeneralizations from the first lessons in history. And, accordingly,\nancient history, whose moving causes are simpler than the more modern\npolitical factors, maintains its place in presentations of historical\nmaterial to younger pupils.\n\n  American history is better than ancient history in respect to its\n  richness of picturesque variety. It is, moreover, easier for children\n  to comprehend, since our present conditions have emerged directly\n  from our pioneer state. Not only are constitutions, institutions,\n  and religious customs to be studied, but the economic conditions of\n  those early times are particularly worthy of study, since they are\n  both important and interesting. Methods of farming, of conducting\n  household affairs, such as cooking, making fires, producing\n  clothing, securing shelter, means of transportation on land and\n  water, methods of communication, and many other similar topics are of\n  interest to the young.\n\n242. Furthermore, due attention must be given to the difficulty of\nnarrating well a complex event. The very first condition is continuity\nof the thought-current, in order that the thread of the story may\nremain unbroken, except where there are intentional rests. This, in\nturn, presupposes fluency of speech, careful cultivation of which is\nindispensable to a good presentation of historical events. But mere\nfluency does not suffice. There must also be resting-places, because\notherwise alternate absorption and reflection cannot be secured; and\nbecause, without such pauses, even the formation of the series fails,\nsince what has preceded arrests what follows. It is therefore not\nimmaterial where a historical lesson begins and ends, and where the\nreviews are inserted.\n\nWhile the narrator can utter words in succession only, the event has,\nin his mind, a very different form, which it is his business to convey\nto his hearers. Nor does the form of the event resemble a level plane;\non the contrary, a manifold interest lifts some things into prominence\nand lets others sink. It is essential, accordingly, to distinguish how\nfar, in a given instance, the narration should follow in a straight\nline the succession of events, and where, on the other hand, it should\ndeviate to include accessory circumstances. The very language used\nmust possess the power to induce side-glances and retrospective views,\neven without leaving the main road. The narrator must have skill to\nintroduce descriptions here and to linger over pictures there, but must\nbe able also, while moving his hearers, to retain his own self-control\nand to keep his bearings.\n\n243. There remains one other requisite of prime importance, namely, the\nutmost simplicity of expression. The condensed and abstract language of\nmore recent historians is hardly suited even to the highest class of a\nsecondary school; a sentimental or witty treatment, such as that found\nin modern novelists, must be avoided entirely. The only safe models are\nthe ancient classics.\n\n  The most serious fault with the text-book method is the barrenness\n  arising from condensation. To teach history solely from a single\n  book, even if this be among the best, is to produce an atrophy of the\n  historical interest. It is on this account that successful teachers\n  introduce large amounts of collateral reading, not of similarly\n  condensed books, which would be like remedying the drouth with more\n  dry weather, but of sections from fuller works on the same subject.\n  In American history the pupil is directed to read selected portions\n  of standard works like those of Fiske, Parkman, McMaster, Turner,\n  Tyler, or earlier historians. In English history he is sent directly\n  to such men as Gardiner, Green, Freeman, Traill, Ransome, Cunningham\n  and McArthur, Harrison and Macaulay. The method of copious readings\n  has, in turn, its disadvantages, the most conspicuous of which is\n  diffusiveness. It is easy for the student to become so absorbed in\n  a mass of details that he lose the proper sense of proportion, or\n  overlook the relative importance of events, or fail to fix firmly\n  in mind the causal series that binds all together. In the case of\n  either of the methods described, it is the teacher who is responsible\n  for order and for clearness of detail. In the one case his narrative\n  must have the artistic unity of the finished historian; in the other\n  he must so manage a wealth of given material that the golden chain\n  of cause and effect shall be seen binding diversity into unity. The\n  ability to do the first is of a much rarer order than that of the\n  second, for the art of teaching is not so difficult as the art of\n  historical composition. The remedy for the specific difficulty which\n  modern text-book teaching of history encounters will be discussed\n  under paragraph 247.\n\nThe stories of Herodotus should serve the teacher as the basis for\npractice. In fact, they should actually be memorized in an accurate but\nfluent translation. The effect on children is surprising. At a later\nstage use may be made of Arrian and Livy. The method of the ancients of\nletting the principal characters utter their views and set forth their\nmotives with their own lips, the narrator abstaining from reflections\nof his own, should be scrupulously imitated, and should be departed\nfrom only in the case of manifestly artificial rhetorical devices.\n\n244. The course of preparation outlined above (240\u2013243) having gone\nhand-in-hand with a thorough, pragmatic study of history, it is\nfurther necessary, in the exercise of the art acquired, to learn to\nexpand or contract, according to circumstances and the specific aims of\neach occasion. Concerning this point no generally applicable rules can\nbe given, on account of the great variety of possible cases; but the\nfollowing suggestions should be noted:--\n\nIn general, all helps whereby historical objects may be represented to\nsense--portraits, pictures of buildings, of ruins, etc.--are desirable;\nmaps for the more ancient times must be regarded as particularly\nindispensable. They should always be at hand, and their study\nshould not be neglected. Among these helps must be included charts,\nsubstantially like that by Strass entitled \u201cThe Stream of Time,\u201d which\nplaces before the eye not only synchronistic events, but at the same\ntime shows also the alternate union and division of countries. The lack\nof such aids causes the loss of much time and temper over mere memory\nwork.\n\nAgain, attention is due to the following four aspects of the teaching\nof history:--\n\n245. (1) In the first place, even the earliest lessons in geography\ngive rise to the question, whenever the description of a country is\nfinished, \u201cHow did things look in this country formerly?\u201d For it is\na part of correct apprehension that cities and other works of man\nshould not be regarded as of equal age with mountains, rivers, and\noceans. Now, although the teacher cannot stop, during the time set\napart for geography dealing with the present, to show and explain maps\nillustrative of the past, it will be useful, nevertheless, to add a\nfew remarks about the early history of the country under discussion.\nThe art of narration, however, is out of place here, inasmuch as the\nquestion, although reaching back in time, is suggested by the country.\nMention of former activity, such as migrations and wars, is made simply\nfor the purpose of adding life to the conception of a stationary\nsurface. At the beginning, the notes on by-gone periods in connection\nwith the geography of Germany will accordingly be as brief as possible;\ngradually, however, as France, England, Spain, Italy, are being studied\nin succession, these historical notes become knit together, and history\nis thus, so to speak, made to loom up in the distance. How far to go\nin this direction can be determined more definitely by distinguishing\nbetween the requirements of the first, and of the second course in\ngeography. In the first course the most general statements may suffice,\n_e.g._, that not so very long ago Germany was split up more than now;\nthat there were older times, when cities and neighboring princes often\nmade war upon each other; that the barons used to live on more or less\ninaccessible heights; but that, in the interest of better order and\nstricter surveillance, Germany was divided into ten districts, etc.\n\nThe second course will admit of more historical facts than the first,\nalthough still only very few pertaining to an older epoch. Only the\nmore recent events can be conveniently connected with geography, except\nin the case of still extant historical monuments,--such, for instance,\nas the ruins in Italy, the composite language of England, the peculiar\npolitical organization of Switzerland with its many subdivisions,\nvisible on the map, and its diversities of language.\n\nIf, as is sometimes recommended, the plan is adopted of preparing\nthe way for the study of medi\u00e6val and modern history by a separate\nintroductory course in short biographies, such a plan, though at best\nonly fragmentary in its results, becomes at least more feasible where\nhistorical notes of the kind just mentioned are incorporated with the\nlessons in geography. But in this case it is all the more essential to\nhave a chronological chart upon the wall, to some dates of which the\nteacher must take every opportunity to refer, in order that the pupils\nmay obtain at least some fixed points. Otherwise scattered biographies\nare liable to occasion great confusion.\n\n246. (2) The chief basis for the earlier stages of historical teaching\nwill always be Greek and Roman history. It will not be inappropriate\nto commence with a few charming stories from Homeric mythology, since\nthere is a close connection between the history of a people and their\nreligion. Two wrong ways, however, are to be avoided: one, that of\ngiving a detailed theogony or of including objectionable myths, for\nthe sake of completeness, which would here be devoid of a rational\npurpose; the other, that of having the mythological elements memorized.\nOnly true history should be memorized by children. Mythology is a study\nfor youths or men.\n\nPersian history must be told approximately in the sequence and setting\ngiven by Herodotus; to it the history of Assyria and of Egypt may\nbe joined in the form of episodes, Greece being kept well in the\nforeground. The stories from the Old Testament, on the other hand, form\na chain of lessons by themselves. The history of Rome must at first\nretain its mythical beginnings.\n\n  Whatever German opinion may be regarding the beginnings of historical\n  instruction for their own children, American history possesses\n  strong claims for precedence when we come to children of the United\n  States. If we regard the chief intellectual purpose of history for\n  the student to be the understanding of the present status through\n  a knowledge of the historical progress that has led to it, then\n  the primitive and pioneer history of this country is infinitely\n  more valuable than any other to an American child, for in it lie\n  enfolded the forces that have developed our people; whereas Greece\n  and Rome are as distant in influence as they are in time. It is the\n  mythology of Greece and Rome that most attracts children; but this\n  belongs to literature rather than to history. Accounts of battles\n  are about the same the world over, but it takes more maturity of\n  mind to understand the Greek rage for individuality after the rise\n  of philosophy, than it does to understand a corresponding feeling\n  among the American pioneers, to say nothing of the desirability of\n  teaching the latter as a phase of our own development. For reasons\n  of simplicity, therefore, as well as for psychological nearness and\n  national importance, American history must take precedence over that\n  of Greece and Rome for American children.\n\n247. Suppose, now, that detailed stories after the models furnished by\nthe ancients have won the attention of the pupils; the mere pleasure\nof listening to stories can nevertheless not be allowed to determine\ncontinuously the impression to be produced. Condensed surveys must\nfollow, and a few of the main facts be memorized in chronological order.\n\nThe following suggestions will be in place here. The chief events are\nto attach themselves in the memory to the memorized dates in such a\nway that no confusion can arise. Now, a single date may suffice for\nthe group of connected incidents constituting one main event; if it\nseems necessary to add another, or a third, well and good, but to\nkeep on multiplying dates defeats the very end aimed at. The more\ndates the weaker their effect, on account of the growing difficulty\nof remembering them all. In the history of one country dates should\nrather remain apart as far as possible, in order that the intervening\nnumbers may be all the more available for purposes of synchronistic\ntabulation, by which the histories of different countries are to be\nbrought together and connected. The same sparing use should be made of\nthe facts of ancient geography, but those that are introduced must be\nlearned accurately.\n\n  Granted that the primitive method of historical narration by the\n  teacher is the most effective in its appeal to the beginner, it\n  must be maintained that the combined knowledge and literary skill\n  of modern historians infinitely surpass the powers of the ordinary\n  teacher. The modern problem is, not how to compose history, but how\n  to utilize that which has been composed. It is, in short, to guard\n  against the confusion that comes from diffuseness. Wide historical\n  reading may be as bad for the student as wide reading of novels. The\n  mind may surrender itself to the passing panorama as completely in\n  the one field as in the other, until the impressions made are like\n  those of a ship upon a sea. The remedy is the thorough organization\n  in the mind of the student of the knowledge gained in diverse fields.\n  This is secured by teacher or author, or both. Some authors secure\n  clearness of outline by topics, references, and research questions.\n  Larned\u2019s \u201cHistory of England\u201d concludes every chapter in this way.\n  As an illustration we may quote from Chapter XVI, which narrates the\n  quarrel between King Charles and his people:--\n\n    202. _Charles I._\n      Topic.\n        1. Charles\u2019s character and views.\n      References.--Bright, II, 608, 609; Green, 495; Montague, 118;\n        Ransome, 138, 139.\n\n    203. _Bad Faith in the Beginning of the Reign._\n      Topic.\n        1. Charles\u2019s marriage and broken pledges.\n      Reference.--Bright, II, 608, 614.\n\n    204. _The First Parliament of King Charles._\n      Topics.\n        1. Charles\u2019s designs and his treatment of Parliament.\n        2. Attitude of Commons and their dissolution.\n        3. The King\u2019s levies.\n      Reference.--Gardiner, II, 502, 503.\n      Research Questions.--(1) What were the legal and illegal sources\n        of the King\u2019s revenues? (Ransome, 151, 155). (2) What might be\n        said to constitute the private property of the crown? (3) What\n        contributed to make Charles\u2019s court expensive? (Traill, IV, 76).\n        (4) How would this need for money make for parliamentary\n        greatness?[25]\n\n  In a similar way the remaining topics of this section of English\n  history are recorded, guiding the pupil in his outlines and his\n  readings. With suitable care on the part of the teacher to see that\n  the student fixes the outline firmly in mind, there is no danger of\n  becoming lost in a wilderness of words. At the same time the pupil\u2019s\n  mind is enriched from many noble sources, instead of being limited by\n  the presumably meagre resources of a single teacher. By this method\n  the child may enjoy the benefits of modern erudition, without at the\n  same time being harmed by dissipation of mental energy.\n\n  Other authors reach the same ends by different means. Fiske\u2019s\n  \u201cHistory of the United States,\u201d for example, concludes each chapter\n  with a topical outline in which cause and effect are emphasized.\n  At the close of Chapter X, on the \u201cCauses and Beginning of the\n  Revolution,\u201d we find the following:--\n\n\n    =Topics and Questions=\n\n    76. _Causes of Ill Feeling between England and her Colonies._\n         1. What was the European idea of a colony, and of its object?\n         2. What erroneous notions about trade existed?\n         3. What was the main object of the laws regulating trade, etc.?\n\n    77. _The Need of a Federal Union._\n         1. One difficulty in carrying on the French wars.\n         2. An account of Franklin.\n         3. Franklin\u2019s plan of union, etc.\n\n    78. _The Stamp Act Passed and Repealed._\n         1. The kind of government needed by the colonies.\n         2. How Parliament sought to establish such a government.\n         3. The nature of a stamp act, etc.\n\n    79. _Taxation in England._\n         1. How Pitt\u2019s friendship for America offended George III.\n         2. The representation of the English people in Parliament.\n         3. How the representation of the people is kept fair in the\n              United States.\n         4. How it became unfair in England.\n         5. Corrupt practices favored by this unfairness.\n         6. The party of Old Whigs.\n         7. The Tories, or the party of George III.\n         8. The party of New Whigs and its aims.\n         9. Why George III was so bitter against Pitt.\n        10. The attitude of the King toward taxation in America.\n        11. The people of England not our enemies, etc.\n\n  At the close of these topics there follows a list of fifteen\n  \u201cSuggestive Questions and Directions,\u201d with page references to\n  Fiske\u2019s \u201cThe American Revolution,\u201d Vol. I, the whole being concluded\n  by eighteen topics for collateral reading from \u201cThe American\n  Revolution,\u201d and from Cooke\u2019s \u201cVirginia.\u201d[26]\n\n  It is a significant fact that modern text-books for children are\n  being prepared by masters in the various departments of knowledge,\n  not a little thought being bestowed upon the highest utilization\n  of all modern instruments for arousing the intelligent interest of\n  the pupils. This being the case, it is idle to rely upon primitive\n  methods, however potent they may have been in the past, with pupils\n  who have learned to read fluently.\n\n[25] Larned, \u201cHistory of England,\u201d Houghton, Mifflin & Co., p. 396.\n\n[26] Fiske, John, \u201cA History of the United States for Schools,\u201d\nHoughton, Mifflin & Co., Boston, pp. 211\u2013215.\n\n248. The general surveys that follow the detailed narratives have this\nadvantage for the pupil: he infers of his own accord, that in periods\nof which not much is told, a great deal took place, nevertheless,\nwhich the history or the teacher passes over in silence. In this way\nthe false impressions are prevented that would be produced by purely\ncompendious instruction, which indeed, at a later stage, becomes in a\nmeasure unavoidable.\n\n249. (3) Medi\u00e6val history derives no assistance from the study of the\nancient languages, nor is it closely related to present conditions;\nthere is difficulty in imparting to the presentation of it more\nthan the clearness obtainable through geography and chronology. But\nmore than this is requisite: the burden of mere memory work without\ninterest would become too great. The fundamental factors, Islamism,\nPapacy, the Holy Roman Empire, Feudalism, must be explained and given\ndue prominence. Most of the facts down to Charlemagne may be made to\ncontribute additional touches to the panorama of the Great Migration.\nWith Charlemagne the chain of German history begins, and it will\nusually be considered advisable to extend this chain to the end of\nthe Middle Ages, in order to have something to which synchronous\nevents may be linked later on. Yet some doubt arises as to the value\nof such a plan. To be sure, the reigns of the Ottos, the Henrys, the\nHohenstaufen, together with intervening occurrences, form a tolerably\nwell-connected whole; but as early as the interregnum there is a\nsad break, and although the historical narrative recovers, as it\nwere, with the stories of Rudolph Albrecht and Ludwig the Bavarian,\nthere is nothing in the names of succeeding leaders, from Carl IV\nto Frederick III, that would make them proper starting-points and\nconnecting centres for the synchronism of the whole period in question.\nIt might be better, therefore, to stop with the excommunication of\nLudwig the Bavarian, with the assembly of the electors at Rhense,\nand with the account of how the popes came to reside in Avignon.\nThen--going back to Charlemagne--France, Italy, even England, may\nbe taken up, and greater completeness given to the history of the\ncrusades. Farther on, special attention might be called, in a\nsynchronistic way, to Burgundy and Switzerland, and to the changing\nfortunes of the wars between England and France. French history may\nthen leave off with the reign of Charles VIII, and English history\nwith that of Henry VII, while German history, from Maximilian on,\nis placed again in the foreground. The Hussite wars will be treated\nas forerunners of the Reformation. Other events must be skilfully\ninserted. Many modifications of grouping will have to be reserved for\nsubsequent repetitions.\n\n250. (4) In presenting modern history, the teacher will do well to\navail himself of the fact that modern history does not cover so long\nreaches of time as medi\u00e6val history does, and that it falls into\nthree sharply defined periods, the first of which ends with the\ntreaty of Westphalia, the second extends from this date to the French\nRevolution, and the third, to the present. These periods should be\ncarefully distinguished, the leading events of each should be narrated\nsynchronistically, and a recital of the most essential historical facts\nabout each country should follow. Only after each has been handled\nin this way, and the subject-matter presented has been thoroughly\nimpressed upon the memory by reviews, will it be well to pass on to a\nsomewhat fuller ethnographical account reaching back into the medi\u00e6val\nhistory of each country and extending forward to our own times. No\nharm is done by going over the same ground again for the purpose of\namplifying that which before appeared in outline only.\n\nThe chief point is, that no course of instruction which claims at all\nto give completeness of culture can be regarded as concluded before it\nhas introduced the pupil to the pragmatic study of history, and has\ntaught him to look for causes and effects. This applies pre\u00ebminently to\nmodern history, on account of its direct connection with the present;\nbut medi\u00e6val and ancient history, too, have to be worked over once more\nfrom this point of view. History should be the teacher of mankind; if\nit does not become so, the blame rests largely with those who teach\nhistory in schools.\n\n251. A well-compiled and well-proportioned brief history of inventions,\narts, and sciences should conclude the teaching of history, not only in\ngymnasia, but also and especially in higher burgher schools, because\ntheir courses of study are not supplemented by the university.\n\nMoreover, the whole course in history is properly accompanied by\nillustrative poetical selections, which, although perhaps not produced\nduring the different epochs, yet stand in some relation to them; and\nwhich in some measure, even if only by illustrating ages very far\napart, exhibit the vast differences in the freest activities of the\nhuman mind.\n\n    =Note.=--National history is not the same for each land, nor\n    everywhere of equal interest, and, owing to its connection with\n    larger events, often unintelligible to young minds when torn out\n    of its place and presented by itself. If its early introduction is\n    desired in order to kindle the heart, special pains must be taken\n    to select that which is intelligible and which appeals to boyhood.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\n=Mathematics and Nature Study=\n\n\n252. Aptitude for mathematics is not rarer than aptitude for other\nstudies. That the contrary seems true, is owing to a belated and\nslighted beginning. But that mathematicians are seldom inclined to\ngive as much time to children as they ought is only natural. The\nelementary lessons in combination and geometry are neglected in favor\nof arithmetic, and demonstration is attempted where no mathematical\nimagination has been awakened.\n\nThe first essential is attention to magnitudes, and their changes,\nwhere they occur. Hence, counting, measuring, weighing, where possible;\nwhere impossible, at least the estimating of magnitudes to determine,\nhowever vaguely at first, the more and the less, the larger and the\nsmaller, the nearer and the farther.\n\nSpecial consideration should be given, on the one hand, to the number\nof permutations, variations, and combinations; and, on the other hand,\nto the quadratic and cubic relations, where similar planes and bodies\nare determined by analogous lines.\n\n    =Note.=--This is not the place for saying much that might be said\n    concerning that which renders early instruction in mathematics\n    unnecessarily difficult. But it may be remarked in brief that\n    some of these difficulties arise from the terminology, some\n    from the teacher\u2019s accustomed point of view, and some from the\n    multiplication of varying requirements.\n\n    (1) The phraseology used forms an obstacle, even to the easiest\n    steps in fractions. The fraction \u2154, for example, is read\n    two-thirds, and, accordingly, \u2154 \u00d7 \u2158, two-thirds times four-fifths,\n    instead of, multiplication by two and by four, and division by\n    three and by five. The fact is overlooked that the third part of\n    a whole includes the concept of this whole, which cannot be a\n    multiplier, but only a multiplicand. This difficulty the pupils\n    stumble over. The same applies to the mysterious word _square\n    root_, employed instead of the expression: one of the two equal\n    factors of a product. Matters grow even worse later on when they\n    hear of roots of equations.\n\n    (2) Still more might be said in criticism of the erroneous\n    view according to which numbers are recorded as sums of units.\n    This is true as little as that sums are products; two does not\n    mean two things, but doubling, no matter whether that which is\n    doubled is one or many. The concept of a dozen chairs is not\n    made up of 12 percepts of single chairs; it comprises only two\n    mental products,--the general concept chair and the undivided\n    multiplication by 12. The concept one hundred men likewise contains\n    only two concepts,--the general concept man and the undivided\n    number 100. So, also, in such expression as six foot, seven pound,\n    in which language assists correct apprehension by the use of the\n    singular. Number concepts remain imperfect so long as they are\n    identified with series of numbers and recourse is had to successive\n    counting.\n\n    (3) In arithmetical problems the difficulty attaching to the\n    apprehension of the things dealt with is confounded with that of\n    the solution itself. Principal and interest and time, velocity and\n    distance and time, etc., are matters which must be familiar to\n    the pupils, and hence must have been previously explained, long\n    before use can be made of them for practice. The pupil to whom\n    arithmetical concepts still give trouble should be given concrete\n    examples so familiar to him that out of them he can create over\n    again the mathematical notion and not be compelled to apply it to\n    them.\n\n253. The measuring of lines, angles, and arcs (for which many\nchildren\u2019s games, constructive in tendency, may present the first\noccasion) leads over to observation exercises dealing with both planes\nand spheres. Skill in this direction having been attained, frequent\napplication must be made of it, or else, like every other acquirement,\nit will be lost again. Every plan of a building, every map every\nastronomical chart, may afford opportunities for practice.\n\nThese observation exercises are to be organized in such a manner that\nupon the completion of mensuration the way is fully prepared for\ntrigonometry, provided that besides the work in plain geometry, algebra\nhas been carried as far as equations of the second degree.\n\n  Extended discussions as to the place and value of the ratio\n  idea in elementary arithmetic are found in \u201cThe Psychology of\n  Number,\u201d by McLellan & Dewey,[27] and in \u201cThe New Arithmetic,\u201d\n  by W. W. Speer.[28] The former work advocates early practice in\n  measuring with changeable units, claiming that the child should\n  early acquire the idea of number as the expression of the relation\n  that a measured somewhat bears to a chosen measurer, and making\n  counting a special case of measuring. Mr. Speer makes the ratio idea\n  still more prominent by furnishing the school with numerous sets of\n  blocks of various sizes and shapes with which to drill the pupils\n  into instantaneous recognition of number as the ratio between two\n  quantities. For an extended examination of these principles the\n  reader may well consult Dr. David Eugene Smith\u2019s able treatise on the\n  teaching of elementary mathematics.[29]\n\n    =Note.=--It is now nearly forty years since the author wrote a\n    little book on the plan of Pestalozzi\u2019s A, B, C, of observation,\n    and he has often had it used by teachers since. Numerous\n    suggestions have been given by others under the title, \u201cStudy of\n    Forms.\u201d The main thing is training the eye in gauging distances and\n    angles, and combining such exercises with very simple computations.\n    The aim is not merely to secure keenness of observation for objects\n    of sense, but, pre\u00ebminently, to awaken geometrical imagination and\n    to connect arithmetical thinking with it. Indeed, exercises of\n    this sort constitute the necessary, although commonly neglected,\n    preparation for mathematics. The helps made use of must be concrete\n    objects. Various things have been tried and cast aside again;\n    most convenient for the first steps are triangles made from thin\n    hard-wood boards. Of these only seventeen pairs are needed, all\n    of them right-angled triangles with one side equal. To find these\n    triangles, draw a circle with a radius of four inches, and trace\n    the tangents and secants at 5\u00b0, 10\u00b0, 15\u00b0, 20\u00b0, etc., to 85\u00b0.\n    The numerous combinations that can be made will easily suggest\n    themselves. The tangents and secants must be actually measured\n    by the pupils; from 45\u00b0 on, the corresponding figures, at first\n    not carried out beyond tenths, should be noted, and, after some\n    repetition, learned by heart. On this basis very easy arithmetical\n    examples may be devised for the immediate purpose of gaining the\n    lasting attention of the pupils to matters so simple. Observations\n    relating to the sphere require a more complicated apparatus,\n    namely, three movable great circles of a globe. It would be well\n    to have such means at hand in teaching spherical trigonometry.\n    Needless to say, of course, observation exercises do not take the\n    place of geometry, still less of trigonometry, but prepare the\n    ground for these sciences. When the pupil reaches plain geometry,\n    the wooden triangles are put aside, and observation is subordinated\n    to geometrical construction. Meanwhile arithmetic is passing beyond\n    exercises that deal merely with proportions, to powers, roots, and\n    logarithms. In fact, without the concept of the square root, not\n    even the Pythagorean Theorem can be fully grasped.\n\n  \u201cHerbart\u2019s A, B, C, of Sense Perception,\u201d together with a number of\n  minor educational works, has been translated into English.[30] It\n  abounds in shrewd observations and ingenious devices, yet as a whole\n  it represents one of those side excursions, which, though delightful\n  to genius, is not especially useful to the world. To drill children\n  into the habit of resolving a landscape into a series of triangles,\n  may indeed be possible, but like any other schematization of the\n  universe, is too artificial to be desirable. Nevertheless, a limited\n  use of the devices mentioned in this section might tend to quicken an\n  otherwise torpid mind.\n\n[27] McLellan & Dewey, \u201cThe Psychology of Number,\u201d International\nEducation Series, D. Appleton & Co., New York, 1895.\n\n[28] Speer, W. W., \u201cThe New Arithmetic,\u201d Ginn & Co., Boston, 1896.\n\n[29] Smith, David Eugene, \u201cThe Teaching of Elementary Mathematics,\u201d\nCh. V, The Macmillan Co., New York, 1900.\n\n[30] Eckoff, William J., \u201cHerbart\u2019s A, B, C, of Sense Perception,\u201d\nInternational Education Series, D. Appleton & Co., New York, 1896.\n\n254. But now a subject comes up that, on account of the difficulties it\ncauses, calls for special consideration, namely, that of logarithms.\nIt is easy enough to explain their use, and to render the underlying\nconcept intelligible as far as necessary in practice--arithmetical\ncorresponding to geometrical series, the natural numbers being\nconceived of as a geometrical series. But scientifically considered,\nlogarithms involve fractional and negative exponents, as also the\napplication of the Binomial Theorem. The latter, to be sure, is merely\nan easy combinatory formula so far as integral positive exponents are\nconcerned, but, limited to these, is here of comparatively little use.\n\nNow, since trigonometry in its main theorems is independent of\nlogarithms, but is little applied without their aid, the question\narises whether beginners should necessarily be given a complete and\nvigorously scientific course in logarithms, the highly beneficial\ninstruction in trigonometry being postponed until after the successful\ncompletion of such a course, or whether the practical use of logarithms\nis to be permitted before accurate insight into underlying principles\nhas been gained.\n\n    =Note.=--The difficulty encountered in this subject--undoubtedly\n    one of those difficulties most keenly felt in teaching\n    mathematics--is after all only an illustration of the injurious\n    consequences of former sins of omission. If the geometrical\n    imagination were not neglected, there would be ample opportunity,\n    not only for impressing far more deeply the concept of proportion,\n    demanded even by elementary arithmetic, but also for developing\n    early the idea of function. The object lessons mentioned above\n    have already illustrated the dependence of tangents and secants\n    on angles. When these relations of dependence have become as\n    familiar as may be expected after a half year\u2019s instruction, sines\n    and cosines also are taken up. But it is not sufficient to leave\n    the matter here. Somewhat later, about the time when mensuration\n    is introduced, the squares and cubes of natural numbers must be\n    emphasized, and very soon committed to memory. Next it should be\n    pointed out how by finding the differences of squares and cubes\n    respectively, and then adding these differences, the original\n    numbers may be obtained again. A similar treatment should be\n    accorded to figurate numbers.\n\n    Small wooden disks, like checker-pawns, commend themselves for the\n    purpose. By means of them various figures are found. The pupils\n    are asked to indicate how many disks they need to construct one\n    or the other kind of figures. A further step will be to show the\n    increase of squares and cubes corresponding to the increase of the\n    root, and to make this information serve as the preparation for\n    the elementary parts of differential calculus. Now the time has\n    come for passing on to the consideration of consecutive values of\n    the roots, which are found to differ by quantities of continuously\n    decreasing smallness as one progresses continuously through the\n    number system. And so, after the logarithms of 1, 10, 100, 1000,\n    etc., also of 1/10, 1/100, etc., have been gone over many times,\n    forward and backward, the conception is finally reached of the\n    interpolation of logarithms.\n\n255. In schools where practical aims predominate, logarithms should\nbe explained by a comparison of the arithmetical with the geometrical\nseries, and the practical application will immediately follow. But even\nwhere recourse is had to Taylor\u2019s Theorem and the Binomial Theorem,\nthe gain to the beginner will not usually be very much greater. Not\nas though these theorems, together with the elements of differential\ncalculus, could not be made clear; the real trouble lies in the fact\nthat much of what is comprehended is not likely to be retained in the\nmemory. The beginner, when he comes to the application, still has the\nrecollection of the proof and of his having understood it. Indeed, with\nsome assistance he would be able, perhaps, to again retrace step by\nstep the course of the demonstration. But he lacks perspective; and in\nhis application of logarithms it is of no consequence to him by what\nmethod they have been calculated.\n\nWhat has been said here of logarithms may be applied more generally.\nThe value of rigid demonstrations is fully seen only when one has made\nhimself at home in the field of concepts to which they belong.\n\n  It is customary in American schools to take up elementary algebra and\n  elementary geometry upon the completion of arithmetic, both algebra\n  and geometry being anticipated to some extent in the later stages of\n  arithmetic. The following paragraphs from the pen of David Eugene\n  Smith[31] indicate some of the advance in algebra since Herbart\u2019s\n  time:--\n\n  \u201cThe great revival of learning known as the Renaissance, in the\n  sixteenth century, saw algebra take a fresh start after several\n  centuries of complete stagnation. Tartaglia solved the cubic\n  equation, and a little later Ferrari solved the biquadratic. By the\n  close of the sixteenth century Vieta had put the keystone in the\n  arch of elementary algebra, the only material improvements for some\n  time to come being in the way of symbolism. For the next two hundred\n  years the struggle of algebraists was for a solution of the quintic\n  equation, or, more generally, for a general solution of an equation\n  of any degree.\n\n  \u201cThe opening of the nineteenth century saw a few great additions to\n  the theory of algebra. The first was the positive proof that the\n  general equation of the fifth degree is insoluble by elementary\n  algebra, a proof due to Abel. The second was the mastery of the\n  number systems of algebra,--the complete understanding of the\n  negative, the imaginary, the incommensurable, the transcendent.\n  Other additions were in the line of the convergency of series, the\n  approximation of the real roots of numerical equations, the study of\n  determinants--all finding their way into the elements, together with\n  the theories of forms and groups, which must soon begin to influence\n  the earlier chapters of the subject.\n\n  \u201cThis hasty glance at the development of the subject is sufficient\n  to show how it has been revolutionized in modern times. To-day it\n  is progressing as never before. The higher culture is beginning to\n  affect the lower; determinants have found place in the beginner\u2019s\n  course; graphic methods, objected to as innovations by some who\n  are ignorant of their prominence in the childhood of science, are\n  reasserting their rights; the \u2018imaginary\u2019 has become very real;\n  the inheritances of the algebra-teachers\u2019 guild are being examined\n  with critical eyes, and many an old problem and rule must soon go\n  by the board. It is valuable to a teacher to see what changes have\n  been wrought so that he may join in the movement to weed out the\n  bad, to cling to the good, and to reach up into the realm of modern\n  mathematics to see if, perchance, he cannot find that which is good\n  and usable and light-shedding for the elementary work.\u201d\n\n  The true order of elementary mathematics, according to Dr. Smith, is\n  substantially as follows:--\n\n    1. Elementary operations of arithmetic.\n\n    2. Simple mensuration, correlation with drawing, the models in\n         hand:--\n\n           Inductive geometry--the primitive form of the science.\n\n    3. Arithmetic of business and of science, using the simple equation\n         with one unknown quantity wherever it throws light upon the\n         subject.\n\n    4. Simple theory of numbers, the roots, series, logarithms.\n\n    5. Elementary algebra, including quadratic and radical equations.\n\n    6. Demonstrative plane geometry begun before the algebra is\n         completed and correlated with it.\n\n    7. Plane trigonometry and its elementary applications.\n\n    8. Solid geometry. Trigonometry. Advanced algebra, with the\n         elements of differentiation and integration.\n\n  \u201cThe student should then take a rapid review of his elementary\n  mathematics, including a course in elementary analytic geometry and\n  the calculus. He would then be prepared to enter upon the study of\n  higher mathematics.\u201d\n\n[31] Compare Smith, David Eugene, \u201cHistory of Modern Mathematics,\u201d in\nMerriman & Woodworth\u2019s \u201cHigher Mathematics,\u201d Wiley, New York, 1896.\n\n256. Demonstrations taking a roundabout way through remote auxiliary\nconcepts are a grave evil in instruction, be they ever so elegant.\n\nSuch modes of presentation are rather to be selected as start from\nsimple elementary notions. For with these conviction does not depend\non the unfortunate condition requiring a comprehensive view of a\nlong series of preliminary propositions. Thus Taylor\u2019s Theorem can\nbe deduced from an interpolation formula, and this, in turn, from\nthe consideration of differences, for which nothing is needed beyond\naddition, subtraction, and knowledge of the permutation of numbers.\n\n  The following account of imaginary and complex numbers by\n  Dr. David Eugene Smith is so lucid that it is given at length:--\n\n  \u201cThe illustrations of the negative number are so numerous, so\n  simple, and so generally known from the common text-books that it is\n  unnecessary to dwell upon them.[32] Debt and credit, the scale on\n  the thermometer, longitude, latitude, the upward pull of a balloon\n  compared with the force of gravity, and the graphic illustration of\n  these upon horizontal and vertical lines--all these are familiar.\n\n  \u201cBut the imaginary and complex numbers have been left enshrouded in\n  mystery in most text-books. The books say, _inter lineas_, \u2018Here\n  is \u221a\u22121; it means nothing; you can\u2019t imagine it; the writer knows\n  nothing about it; let us have done with it, and go on.\u2019 Such is the\n  way in which the negative was treated in the early days of printed\n  algebras, but now such treatment would be condemned as inexcusable.\n  But there is really no more reason to-day for treating the imaginary\n  so unintelligently than for presenting the negative as was the\n  custom four hundred years ago. The graphic treatment of the complex\n  number is not to-day so difficult for the student about to take\n  up quadratics as is the presentation of the negative to one just\n  beginning algebra.\n\n  \u201cBriefly, the following outline will suffice to illustrate the\n  procedure for the complex number:--\n\n    5   4   3   2   1   |   1   2   3   4   5\n    |___|___|___|___|___|___|___|___|___|___|\n                        |\n    \u2212                   0                   +\n\n  \u201c1. Negative numbers may be represented in a direction opposite\n  to that of positive numbers, starting from an arbitrary point\n  called zero. Hence, when we leave the domain of positive numbers,\n  _direction_ enters. But there are infinitely many directions in a\n  plane besides those of the positive and negative numbers, and hence\n  there may be other numbers than these.\n\n  \u201c2. When we add positive and negative numbers we find some results\n  which seem strange to a beginner. For example, if we add +4 and \u22123 we\n  say the sum is 1, although the _length_ 1 is less than the length 4\n  or the length \u22123; yet this does not trouble us because we have\n  considered something besides length, namely, direction; it is true,\n  however, that the sum of 4 and \u22123 is less than the absolute value\n  of either. This is seen to be so reasonable, however, from numerous\n  illustrations (as the combined weight of a balloon pulling up 3 lbs.,\n  tied to a 4-lb. weight), that we come not to notice the strangeness\n  of it; graphically, we think of the sum as obtained by starting from\n  0, going 4 in a positive direction, then 3 in a negative direction,\n  the _sum_ being _the distance from 0 to the stopping-place_.\n\n  [Illustration: Graph of 1 multiplied by \u221a\u22121 twice]\n\n  \u201c3. If we multiply 1 by \u22121, or by \u221a\u22121 \u00b7 \u221a\u22121, or by \u221a\u22121 twice, we\n  swing it counter-clockwise through 180\u00b0, and obtain \u22121; hence, if we\n  multiply it by \u221a\u22121 once, we should swing it through 90\u00b0. Hence we may\n  graphically represent \u221a\u22121 as the unit on the perpendicular axis YY\u2032,\n  and this gives illustration to\n\n    \u221a\u22121, 2\u221a\u22121, 3\u221a\u22121, \u00b7\u00b7\u00b7 \u2212\u221a\u22121, \u22122\u221a\u22121, \u22123\u221a\u22121,\n\n  or, more briefly, \u00b1i, \u00b12i, \u00b13i, \u00b7\u00b7\u00b7 where i stands for \u221a\u22121. We\n  therefore see that i is a symbol of quality (graphically of\n  direction), just as is + or \u2212, and that \u22123 \u00b7 5i, i\u221a5, etc., are just\n  as real as \u22123 \u00b7 5, \u221a5, etc. It is impossible to look out of a window\n  \u22123 \u00b7 5 times as it is to look out \u22123 \u00b7 5i times; strictly, one number\n  is as \u2018imaginary\u2019 as the other, although the term has come by custom\n  to apply to one and not to the other.\n\n  \u201c4. The complex number 3 + 2i is now readily understood. Just as\n  3 + (\u22122) is graphically represented by starting from an arbitrary\n  zero, passing 3 units in a positive direction (say to the right),\n  then 2 units in the opposite direction, calling the sum the\n  distance from 0 to the stopping-point, so 3 + 2i may be represented\n  graphically. Starting from 0, pass in the positive direction (to\n  the right in the figure) 3 units, then in the i direction 2 units,\n  calling the sum the distance from 0 to the stopping-place.\n\n  [Illustration: Graphical representation of 3 + 2i as the hypotenuse\n  of a right-angled triangle with sides of 3 and 2i units]\n\n  \u201cOf course the question will arise as to the hypotenuse being the\n  sum of the two sides of the right-angled triangle. But the case is\n  parallel to that mentioned in paragraph 2; it is not the sum of\n  the _absolute values_, any more than is 1 the sum of the absolute\n  values of 4 and \u22123; it is the sum when we define addition for numbers\n  involving direction as well as length.\n\n  \u201cA simple illustration from the parallelogram of forces is often used\n  to advantage.\n\n  [Illustration: Parallelogram of two forces +3 and +2i with\n  resultant OP]\n\n  \u201cSuppose a force pulling 3 lbs. to the right (+3 lbs.) and another\n  pulling 2 lbs. upwards (+2i lbs.); required the resultant of the two.\n  It is evident that this is OP, _i.e._, OP = 3 + 2i.\n\n  \u201cThis elementary introduction to the subject of complex numbers shows\n  that the \u2018imaginary\u2019 element is easily removed, and that students\n  about to begin quadratics are able to get at least an intimation of\n  the subject. This is not the place for any adequate treatment of\n  these numbers: such treatment is easily accessible. It is hoped that\n  enough has been presented to render it impossible for any reader\n  to be content with the absolutely meaningless and unjustifiable\n  treatment found in many text-books.\u201d[33]\n\n[32] See Beman & Smith\u2019s \u201cElements of Algebra,\u201d p. 17.\n\n[33] For an elementary presentation of the subject, see Beman and\nSmith\u2019s \u201cElements of Algebra,\u201d Boston, 1900. For a history of the\nsubject, see Beman and Smith\u2019s translation of Fink\u2019s \u201cHistory of\nMathematics,\u201d Chicago, 1900, or Professor Beman\u2019s Vice-Presidential\nAddress before the American Association for the Advancement of Science,\n1898, or the author\u2019s \u201cHistory of Modern Mathematics,\u201d already\nmentioned.\n\n257. The pedagogical value of mathematical instruction, as a whole,\ndepends chiefly on the extent to which it enters into and acts on\nthe pupil\u2019s whole field of thought and knowledge. From this truth\nit follows, to begin with, that mere presentation does not suffice;\nthe aim must be rather to enlist the self-activity of the pupil.\nMathematical exercises are essential. Pupils must realize how much\nthey can do by means of mathematics. From time to time written work in\nmathematics should be assigned; only the tasks set must be sufficiently\neasy. More should not be demanded and insisted on than pupils can\ncomfortably accomplish. Some are attracted early by pure mathematics,\nespecially where geometry and arithmetic are properly combined. But a\nsurer road to good results is applied mathematics, provided only the\napplication is made to an object in which interest has already been\naroused in other ways.\n\nBut the pupils ought not to be detained too long over a narrow round of\nmathematical problems; there must also be progress in the presentation\nof the theory. Were the only requisite to stimulate self-activity,\nthe elementary principles might very easily suffice for countless\nexamples affording the pupil the pleasure of increasing facility, and\neven the delight arising from inventions of his own, without giving\nhim any conception of the greatness of the science. Many problems may\nbe compared to witty conceits, which may be welcome enough in the\nright place, but which should not encroach on the time for work. There\nought to be no lingering over things that with advancing study solve\nthemselves, merely for the sake of performing feats of ingenuity.\nIncomparably more important than mere practice examples is familiarity\nwith the facts of nature, and such familiarity renders all the better\nservice to mathematics if combined with technical knowledge.\n\n258. Even young children may very well busy themselves with picture\nbooks illustrating zo\u00f6logy, and later with analyses of plants which\nthey have gathered. If early accustomed to this, they will, with some\nguidance, readily go on by themselves. At a later time they are taught\nto observe the external characteristics of minerals. The continuation\nof the study of zo\u00f6logy is beset with some difficulties on account of\nthe element of sex.\n\n  Though industriously debated, there is no field of education more\n  undecided both as to matter and method than nature work in the\n  grades. Some scientists would teach large amounts of well-classified\n  knowledge; others are content when they have secured a hospitable\n  frame of mind toward nature. If a love for flowers and birds can be\n  cultivated in children, the latter class are satisfied that the best\n  result has been attained. Thus a discussion arises as to which is the\n  more valuable, _attitude_ or _knowledge_.\n\n  It is feared by some that any attempt to teach real science, even\n  of an elementary kind, will result in a paralysis of permanent\n  scientific interest. To this it is replied that a sentimental regard\n  for \u00e6sthetic aspects of nature insures little or no true scientific\n  interest.\n\n  Both sides are, in large measure, wrong; for, though apparently\n  antagonistic in their aims, they make merely a different application\n  of a common principle, which, if not wholly erroneous, is at least\n  inadequate. Both parties assume that the end to be attained in nature\n  study is something only remotely related to the pupil\u2019s practical\n  life. One would present nature for its own sake as scientific\n  knowledge; the other would offer it for its own sake as a source of\n  \u00e6sthetic or other feeling. The scientist often assumes that to a\n  pupil a scientific fact or law is its own excuse for being. He thinks\n  there must be a natural, spontaneous response to such a fact or law\n  in the breast of every properly constituted child, so that, to imbue\n  the mind with the scientific spirit, it is only necessary to expose\n  it to scientific fact.\n\n  Perhaps, unfortunately for the normal child, this view is somewhat\n  encouraged by the biographies of scientific geniuses. On the other\n  hand, those who hold the poetic view of nature assume that there must\n  be a native response to natural beauties in every child; so that\n  the true method is to expose him to nature\u2019s beauty, when rapture is\n  sure to follow. Unfortunately again for the pupil, this view is also\n  encouraged by the influence of the nature poets. The result is that\n  natural science is presented as an end in itself--in the one case as\n  scientific knowledge, in the other as the lovable in nature.\n\n  While it may be admitted that a few children will respond now to\n  the one stimulus, now to the other, the great mass are not thrilled\n  with rapture at nature\u2019s beauty, nor are they fettered by scientific\n  interest in her laws. To become an object of growing interest to\n  children, nature must have a better basis than natural childish\n  delight in the novel, or reverence for scientific law. The first of\n  these is evanescent, the second feeble.\n\n  We may agree with the scientist as with the poet, that both science\n  and poetic appreciation are desirable ends, but they cannot be\n  imparted to the childish mind by didactic fiat.\n\n  If there is one service greater than another that Herbart has\n  rendered to education, it is in bringing clearly to our consciousness\n  the supreme importance of the principle of apperception, or mental\n  assimilation, as a working basis for educative processes. So long\n  as a fact or a principle or system of knowledge stands as an end\n  in itself, just so long is it a thing apart from the real mental\n  life of the child. Even a formally correct method of presentation,\n  should it even appeal at once to all \u2018six\u2019 classes of interest, will\n  fail to create more than a factitious mental enthusiasm. It is like\n  conversation that is \u2018made\u2019 interesting; it may suffice to lighten a\n  tedious hour, but it awakens no vital response. When, however, the\n  natural love of novelty or inborn response to the true is reinforced\n  by a sense of warm personal relationship, when the facts of forest,\n  or plain, or mine, or animal life flood the mind with unexpected and\n  significant revelations concerning either the present or the past in\n  close personal touch with the learner, then instruction rests upon\n  an apperceptive basis. Abstractions that before were pale, beauties\n  that were cold, now receive color and warmth because they get a new\n  subjective valuation that before was impossible.\n\n  A sedate sheep nibbling grass or resting in the shade, a skipping\n  lamb gambolling on the green, are suitable objects of nature study.\n  Their pelts, their hoofs, their horns, their wool, are worthy of\n  note as scientific facts. A diluted interest may even be added by\n  recitation of the nursery rhymes about \u201cLittle Bo-Peep\u201d and \u201cMary had\n  a Little Lamb.\u201d But these are devices for the feeble-minded.\n\n  If the teacher can reveal to the pupil the function of wool in making\n  garments for the race, and can lead him to repeat the processes\n  by which, from time immemorial, the wool has been spun into yarn\n  and woven into cloth; if, at the same time, the influence of this\n  industry upon the home life, both of men and women, can be shown, the\n  study of the sheep becomes worthy the attention even of a boy who\n  can play foot-ball or of a girl who can cook. The literature of the\n  sheep is no longer infantile or fatuous. We have a gamut reaching\n  from Penelope to Priscilla. In the words of Professor Dewey: \u201cThe\n  child who is interested in the way in which men lived, the tools\n  they had to do with, the transformation of life that arose from the\n  power and leisure thus gained, is eager to repeat like processes\n  in his own action; to make utensils, to reproduce processes, to\n  rehandle materials. Since he understands their problems and their\n  successes only by seeing what obstacles and what resources they had\n  from nature, the child is interested in field and forest, ocean and\n  mountain, plant and animal.... The interest in history gives a more\n  human coloring, a wider significance, to his own study of nature.\u201d[34]\n\n  The conclusion arising from this argument is that nature study\n  as an end in itself, or a thing apart from the real or imagined\n  experiences of the pupil, is but a faint reflection of what it may\n  become under a more rational treatment. In order of time, nature\n  study in the earliest grades may indeed rest upon the mere delight\n  of the childish mind in the new, the strange, the beautiful, and\n  especially in the motion of live creatures, and may be reinforced\n  by childish literature. When boyhood and girlhood begin, however,\n  then the industrial motive, first in the home environment, then of\n  primitive times, becomes the chief reliance for an abiding interest.\n  In the reproduction of primitive processes, there is of necessity\n  a historical element. When nature has attained a firm apperceptive\n  basis through imitation of primitive industrial processes, and has\n  obtained a historical background, then it may properly be further\n  reinforced by literary reference. The poetic value of nature will now\n  appeal to the mind with a potency that springs from inner life and\n  experience; scientific law will now have some chance of appealing to\n  the mind with something of the same reverence that Kant besought for\n  the moral law. The true order of appeal in nature study is therefore\n  as follows: For infancy, natural curiosity and delight in the\n  movements of living creatures; for the age of boyhood and girlhood,\n  imitation, real or imaginary, of processes depending upon natural\n  objects and forces, together with historical and literary reference;\n  secondarily, nature work may also appeal to youthful interest in\n  natural law or beauty.\n\n[34] Dewey, John, \u201cThe Aim of History in Elementary Education,\u201d\n_Elementary School Record_, November, 1900, University of Chicago\nPress.\n\n259. With the foregoing should be conjoined much attention to external\nnature, to the changes corresponding to the seasons, and to means of\nintercommunication.\n\nUnder this head belongs, on the one hand, observation of the heavenly\nbodies,--where sun and moon rise, how the latter waxes and wanes, where\nthe north star is found, and what arcs are described by the brighter\nstars and the most conspicuous constellations.\n\nHere belongs, on the other hand, technological knowledge, acquired\npartly through direct observation, partly through lessons in\ndescriptive physical science. Technology ought not to be considered\nmerely from the side of the so-called material interests. It furnishes\nvery important connecting links between the apprehension of the facts\nof nature and human purposes. Every growing boy and youth should learn\nto handle the ordinary tools of the carpenter as well as rule and\ncompasses. Mechanical skill would often prove far more useful than\ngymnastic exercises. The former benefits the mind, the latter benefit\nthe body. With burgher schools should go manual training-schools,\nwhich does not mean that the latter must necessarily be trade schools.\nFinally, every human being ought to learn how to use his hands. The\nhand has a place of honor beside language in elevating mankind above\nthe brute.\n\nThe foregoing store of information also enters into the study of\ngeography; how, will appear in the next chapter.\n\n  The soundness of the foregoing remarks is witnessed by the rapid\n  development of manual training-schools in the last decade, and the\n  almost universal desire, if not practice, of providing considerable\n  amounts of manual training for the pupils of the grammar grades.\n  The girls usually have some form of sewing and cooking, while the\n  boys have sloyd or other similar tool work in wood. The _rationale_\n  of requiring girls to do carpenter work instead of the forms of\n  manual exercise that especially pertain to their sex is not yet\n  satisfactorily established.\n\n260. On the observation of the heavenly bodies is based popular\nastronomy, which provides a test as to whether the mathematical\nimagination has been properly cultivated.\n\n261. Elementary statics and mechanics will serve as an early\nintroduction to physics, which combines with the easiest portions\nof chemistry. Long before physics is formally presented, it must be\nforeshadowed by many things stimulating the attention. Notice is\ndirected to clocks, mills, the most familiar phenomena of atmospheric\npressure, to electrical and magnetic toys, etc. In burgher schools,\nat least, so much must be said about buildings and machines as is\nnecessary to incite to further study in the future. The same holds for\nthe fundamental facts of physiology.\n\n262. As often as a new topic for study is introduced, it is important\nto give prominence to some of the salient facts, and these must be\naccurately memorized. Moreover, pupils need to have practice in exact\ndescription. Where practicable, these descriptions are corrected by\nactually looking at the objects themselves.\n\nHasty and superficial observation of objects presented for inspection\nalways calls for severe criticism; else collections and experiments\nbecome valueless. Nor should objects be shown too lavishly; pupils must\noften be told beforehand what they will have to look for. Frequently\nit may serve the purpose to employ successively good descriptions,\npictures, and direct observation.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\n=Geography=\n\n\n263. As to geography, at least two courses may be distinguished. One of\nthese is analytic and begins with the pupil\u2019s immediate neighborhood,\nthe topography of the place, while the other starts with the globe.\nHere only the former will be discussed, as the latter can be had\ndirectly from good text-books.\n\n    =Note.=--The usual method of taking the globe as the point of\n    departure would be less open to criticism, if, in order to render\n    the conception of the earth\u2019s sphericity more intelligible,\n    attention were directed to the shape of the moon, the observation\n    being carried on occasionally with the aid of a telescope. But\n    even if this is done, it still remains a blunder to substitute the\n    faint and vague idea of a huge ball for direct perception. Equally\n    injudicious is the plan of beginning with Portugal and Spain.\n    That spot where pupils and teacher are at the moment is the point\n    from which the pupils must take their bearings, and in thought\n    extend their horizon. It will never do to pass over the natural\n    starting-points provided by sense-perception.\n\n  Had the note to this section been properly heeded, we should not have\n  had to wait for fifty years after Herbart\u2019s death before witnessing\n  the present rational methods of applying geographical science to\n  elementary education. It is the proud boast of the modern elementary\n  geography that it begins with a study of the pupil\u2019s actual\n  environment. The term _home geography_ has now become a familiar one.\n  It signifies that the pupil is taught to observe the geographical\n  elements as they exist in his own neighborhood. He studies hills,\n  watercourses, soil, woods, lakes, together with the industrial\n  phenomena that come within the reach of his investigation. Upon\n  this primary sense-basis he rears the structure of his geographical\n  knowledge.\n\n264. Geography is an associating science, and use must be made of\nthe opportunities it offers for binding together a variety of facts,\nnone of which should be allowed to remain isolated in the mind of the\nlearner. It is not the mathematical portion, supplemented and made\ninteresting by popular astronomy, that serves as the first connecting\nlink between mathematics and history (second course); even the\nrudiments of geography may, on the basis of observation exercises,\nfurnish practice in the determination of triangles which occur on the\nfirst maps used, although this step is not always necessary when once\nsome skill has been acquired in singling out features worthy of note.\n(The determination of position by latitude and longitude is, for the\nfirst course, as irrational as the action of a traveller in Germany\nor France would be if he set about to put together the picture of the\nplaces where he expects to remain, with the aid of their relation to\nthe equator and the first meridian.)\n\nPhysical geography presupposes some knowledge of nature, and furnishes\nthe occasion for enriching that knowledge. Political geography\ndesignates the manner in which man inhabits and uses the earth\u2019s\nsurface. It is the pedagogical aim of instruction in geography to\nassociate all this.\n\n265. The teacher must cultivate the art of narration; his accounts must\nresemble those of a traveller. But the narrative should conflict with\nthe determination of the relative position of places (by grouping them\nabout one principal place, and in the case of more than one by the use\nof triangles) as little as, in teaching history, the story of events\nshould conflict with the scheme of chronology. The two go together. The\nnarrative is to present a clear picture, and to this end requires the\nsupport of a few fixed points in space. On the other hand, these points\nshould not remain isolated; they are to be connected by the lines of\nthe picture.\n\n266. It is not a matter of indifference how many unfamiliar names are\nmentioned in one minute or hour. Nor is it immaterial whether they\nare uttered before or after perception of the picture which the map\npresents. The first requisite is that every map placed before the\npupils be conceived of as a country; three, at most four, names of\nrivers, and the names of a few mountains are sufficient; completeness\nis out of place here. The few names given provide ample opportunity\nfor fixing the position of notable points, both with reference to one\nanother and to the boundary lines of the country.\n\nDue prominence having been given to these geographical features, they\nshould then be connected, say with the aid of a blackboard, on which\nthey are roughly sketched one by one, and properly joined together\nafterward. In the case of the sources and outlets of rivers, this may\nbe done by a line to indicate the course. If now the pupils have made\ngood previous use of their eyes, especially if they have noticed the\nfall of brooks and rivers, and have observed the slope of the ground\nin a particular region,--if they have not, the deficiency must be made\ngood first of all,--it will not be too early to pass on to a general\ndescription of the appearance which the country under consideration\nwould present to a traveller. And now the time has come for a somewhat\nfuller mention of the names of rivers and mountains, but these names\nmust at once be gone over several times by the pupils. Doing so will\nreveal whether the list of new names has been made too long; it is\noften largely due to carelessness in this respect, if the study of\ngeography proves barren or onerous. Next in order follow detailed\ndescriptions of particular wonders of nature, where there are such.\nAttention is then given to some of the principal cities, mention\nbeing made of the number of inhabitants. Here the determination of\nrelative location comes in again, and for this the self-activity of the\npupils is indispensable. Finally, human industry and art, so far as\nthey relate to the products of the country, together with the little\nof political organization that pupils can grasp. The names of the\nprovinces should ordinarily be omitted from the first course.\n\n  This section is suggestive of the old geography of the last half\n  century,--location, names, maps, the barren details of the science.\n  Geography is something richer than all this. The old geography was\n  political in the foregoing sense. The first break was in making it\n  physiographical, the last in making it social. Names as such are\n  nothing, and physical facts little more, but both become of value\n  as soon as they are brought into relation to man,--his life, his\n  work, his recreation. Geography is not essentially the location of\n  places, nor is it physiography, but it is a study of the essential\n  facts concerning the surface of the earth as they are related to man\n  himself; it is, in short, _human_ in the fullest sense. It gives a\n  concrete explanation of civilization; it explains the production,\n  the exchange, and, to some extent, the consumption of goods. It\n  contrasts countries, not so much by square miles, as by the number\n  of miles of railroads they possess. (The most momentous fact of\n  modern civilization is the railroad. Twelve billions of dollars are\n  invested in it in the United States alone. In view of these facts,\n  what shall be said of those recent geographies that keep the children\n  poring over primitive maps for years--maps without a suggestion of a\n  railroad in them? This is an illustration of how prone education is\n  to lag behind the progress of society.)\n\n267. The reviews, which should be frequent, must steadily work toward\na growing firmness of association between names and places. Each name\nis to be referred to the place it designates; hence the sequence of\nnames must often be reversed, and the map looked over in all directions\nand from all points of view. How far to go is determined in accordance\nwith individual capacity. From some, only what is absolutely essential\ncan be demanded; from others, much more, in order that they may exert\nthemselves properly.\n\n268. In the midst of other studies on which greater stress is laid,\ngeography is as a rule slighted by pupils and sometimes even by\nteachers. This attitude merits severe criticism. Instruction in\ngeography may be reduced to a minimum, the first course even requires\nthis, but it should not be disparaged. With many pupils, geography\nis the first study which gives them the consciousness that they can\nlearn as they are expected to learn. With all pupils, geography must\nconnect the remaining studies and must keep them connected. Without\nit everything remains unstable. Historical events lack places and\ndistances; products of nature are without the regions where they are\nfound; popular astronomy, which is called upon so often to prevent\nand dispel erroneous notions, is deprived of its very basis, and the\ngeometrical imagination of one of its most important incentives. If the\nfacts of knowledge are allowed to fall asunder in this way, instruction\nendangers the whole of education.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\n=The Mother-tongue=\n\n\n269. There would be less controversy about language teaching if\nexisting differences in conditions were given proper attention.\n\nThe most general distinction to make is that between understanding and\nspeaking. The distance between the two is a given factor at the time\nwhen regular instruction begins. It is very great in some cases, and,\nagain, slight in others, according to individual aptitude and early\nsurroundings.\n\n270. First of all, one\u2019s language was acquired by hearing it spoken, by\nreceiving it from others, by imitation; it was refined or vulgar; it\nwas perceived accurately or indistinctly; it was imitated by organs,\ngood, bad, or indifferent. Little by little the imperfections of the\nearliest stage are outgrown, where cultured persons set a daily example\nand insist on correctness of speech. Sometimes, however, it takes years\nto bring about such a result.\n\n271. Another factor, and one deeply rooted in individual temperament,\nis the stronger or weaker impulse toward expression through language.\nThis fact elevates the language of each one above mere imitation; its\nimprovement must start from the thoughts which it seeks to express.\nStriking progress of this kind often occurs during adolescence.\n\n  The differences noted in this and the two preceding sections are\n  psychological, hence common to German and American children. The\n  problem of teaching American children their mother-tongue, assumed to\n  be English, is both harder and easier than to teach German to German\n  children. It is easier in that English is mostly uninflected, hence\n  unencumbered by nice distinctions in grammatical form. This same\n  fact, on the other hand, causes didactic difficulties, since most\n  teachers are at a loss as to what definite body of knowledge they\n  should or can impart that will train the child into a mastery of good\n  English speech. The last twenty years have seen a large number of\n  experiments on the part of authors in the effort to present a body of\n  information and exercises calculated to secure a good training in the\n  mother-tongue. These efforts have met with but partial success, owing\n  to the inherent difficulties of the subject. Many who can teach a\n  foreign language, where there is a movable fulcrum of difficulties to\n  be overcome, such as those found in inflection, or in the meaning of\n  foreign words, fail when confronted by a language that is practically\n  uninflected, and in which the words are easily understood.\n\n  The old recourse was technical grammar. But this is an analytical\n  study, calculated to lead to apprehension of subtle meanings, rather\n  than to an instinct for correct form. Furthermore, the grammar cannot\n  be successfully studied until after the habits of speech are fairly\n  fixed. For these reasons, it bears much the same relation to living\n  speech that formal logic does to real thinking. Grammar makes the\n  mind keen to detect formal errors of speech, just as logic trains\n  one to detect fallacies in reasoning.\n\n  The first important instrument for securing good English in the\n  early primary grades is narration by the teacher and repetition\n  by the children. This means, potent enough to form the speech of\n  any child whether from the slums or from the homes of those who\n  know no English, is rarely utilized up to the full measure of its\n  efficiency. Teachers are filled with the prepossession that they\n  must enable their pupils to write good English, forgetting that if\n  the mind is habituated to _think_ in good English first, the problem\n  of writing it is well-nigh solved. The requisites for successful\n  oral training in the mother-tongue are first, the selection of a\n  body of interesting and appropriate literature, and second, skill in\n  narration by the teacher. Given these two things, and we have the\n  first in great abundance, and every child will be able in a year\n  to give extended and correct speech within the range of his sphere\n  of thought to an almost unlimited extent. His tenacious memory for\n  forms frequently heard, together with his delight in repeating almost\n  word for word stories told in his presence, will produce astonishing\n  facility in correct speech. As much of this may be written as seems\n  best, but it is probable that there would not be great loss if a\n  child were not called upon to write a \u2018composition\u2019 before he is ten\n  or twelve years old. Could we be sure he would go through the high\n  school, formal writing might be postponed until he enters it. Not\n  much is ever gained by attempts to produce fruit before its natural\n  period for appearing.\n\n  Upon the basis of this training in correct oral speech, the children\n  may begin, when nine or ten years of age, to have systematic language\n  lessons, which should be calculated to produce two results: first, a\n  facile use of the pen in recording thought, special caution being\n  given not to weary the mind and body too much by unduly extending\n  the length of the written exercises; second, an inductive approach,\n  through brief written exercises, toward the classifications and\n  distinctions of technical grammar. To be of use, this latter\n  requirement should be clearly understood. The method of approach\n  is purely synthetic. It consists in devices to enable the pupil\n  repeatedly to use a given construction, say a relative pronoun, until\n  the name and construction seem natural from use alone.[35]\n\n  At the age of thirteen or fourteen the analytical study of grammar\n  should be begun. The essential thing here is that the pupil should\n  connect _words_ with the _ideas_ they express, and _sentences_ with\n  the _thoughts_ that give rise to them.[36] Seeing mental distinctions\n  clearly, he has small difficulty in their written or oral expression.\n\n[35] For extended illustration of this point, see the \u201cAnnotator\u2019s\nLanguage Lessons,\u201d the Werner School Book Co., New York, Boston, and\nChicago.\n\n[36] This position is best exemplified by Mr. George P. Brown in his\n\u201cEssentials of English Grammar,\u201d the Werner School Book Co., New York,\nBoston, and Chicago.\n\n272. Now such facts might seem to point to the conclusion that no\nspecial periods of instruction are needed for the mother-tongue, or\nat least not for language lessons alone. On the one hand, it might be\nurged that cultured teachers will improve the language of their pupils\nby their mere example, and by the occasional corrections which will of\ncourse be necessary; while, on the other hand, the gradual progress of\nmental development will shape the means of expression from within, to\nthe natural limits of individual capacity. But before accepting the\nview here given, we need to remind ourselves, in the first place, that\nfor a long time the educated teacher is only imperfectly understood by\nthe uneducated listener, and that instruction is very much impeded if\neach unusual turn of expression necessitates an inquiry as to whether\nits meaning is clear.\n\n273. But this is not all. Language is also to be read and written.\nHence, it becomes a standing object for consideration, and, to one\nwhose knowledge of it is deficient, a source of embarrassment.\nAccordingly, the first thing for the teacher to do is to show\nanalytically, on the basis of what has been read or written, how\nthe meaning would be lost or altered if either single words were\ninterchanged, or the inflectional endings (especially in German) were\nincorrectly chosen. That the synthesis of sentences should follow next,\nadvancing step by step toward greater complexity, especially by means\nof various conjunctions, may be assumed to be well understood.\n\n274. Now if all experienced equal difficulty in their reading and\nwriting, the language lessons designed as a remedy would commend\nthemselves in all cases, and might fittingly be carried to the same\nextent everywhere.\n\nBut here the widest divergence appears. Accordingly, where many are\nbeing taught together, the teacher will seek to connect language work\nwith other subjects. Thus, in the course of the same recitation,\nanalytic instruction may be directed to the language side for some\npupils, while for others it may be given a far wider scope. Moreover,\nthe accompanying written exercises may have a corresponding diversity.\n\n275. The work of a recitation period will be further diversified by the\nintroduction of exercises in reading aloud, and in oral reproduction.\nBut never will it be possible to raise all pupils to the same plane of\nproficiency. Here, above all, the determining power of individuality\nmust be acknowledged.\n\n276. For older boys and young men, the work in the mother-tongue will\nconsist partly in the study of excellent examples of the various kinds\nof poetry and oratory, partly in the writing of essays. Such study\nwill prove the more profitable, the more perfect the models, the more\nsuitably they are adapted to the stage of culture already attained\nby the student, and the more scrupulously the teacher refrains from\nforcing upon him a literary taste not congenial to his nature. The\nleast promising of all written exercises are those in letter-writing.\nConfidential letters every one can write, each in his own way. Best of\nall are written exercises with a definite and rich store of thought\nto draw from and admitting of various forms of treatment. Several may\nthen emulate each other in handling the same theme, and the process of\ncorrecting will awaken greater interest in consequence.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\n=Greek and Latin=\n\n\n277. As is well known, the exposition of grammatical distinctions\nand of the many turns of expression whereby language may become an\nadequate symbolization of thought, gains very materially in clearness\nby a comparison of the mother-tongue with Latin and Greek. Even with\nboys not more than eight years old the attempt may be made to utilize\nthis advantage in the teaching of English, whether it has been finally\ndecided, or not, that they are to take the regular classical course.\nSome boys learn, without much trouble, enough of Latin inflections to\nenable them soon to translate short sentences from the mother-tongue\ninto Latin, and _vice versa_.\n\n  The present plan in Germany is to have boys in the gymnasia begin the\n  study of Latin at the age of ten. The study is continued for a period\n  of nine years. Greek is begun three years later and continued for\n  six years. In the United States the prevailing plan is to postpone\n  the study of Latin until the pupil enters the high school at the age\n  of fourteen or fifteen. Good private schools and many city grammar\n  schools permit children to begin when some two years younger than\n  this. The Report on College Entrance Requirements made before the\n  National Educational Association in 1899 suggested the propriety\n  of extending the influence of the high school over the two highest\n  grades of the grammar school, making in effect a six-year high school\n  course. For students who expect to enter college or technical schools\n  this plan offers great advantages, since it permits the desirable\n  preparation to be distributed over six years instead of being\n  concentrated into four.\n\n278. This experiment will not, however, be long continued; since, with\nthe large majority of pupils, the difficulties accumulate so rapidly as\nto lead unavoidably to the admission that the burden cannot be assumed\nmerely for the sake of incidental advantages. Moreover, the customary\nview, handed down from the time of the Reformation, of the relation of\nthe classical languages to the sciences, and to the needs of the age,\nis undergoing a change more and more apparent from decade to decade.\nThe labor implied in the study of the ancient languages now pays only\nwhere talent combines with the earnest purpose to achieve the most\ncomplete scholarship.\n\n  This remark is prophetic of the enormous increase of instruction\n  in the sciences since Herbart\u2019s day, yet Latin has also enjoyed a\n  phenomenal increase in popularity in American schools. According to\n  the Report of the National Commissioner of Education the increase of\n  enrollment in high schools for the years between 1890 and 1898 was\n  84 per cent, while the increase in the number of students pursuing\n  Latin was 174 per cent.[37] This surprising growth in the number\n  pursuing an ancient language can hardly be accounted for by increased\n  stringency in college entrance requirements in Latin, but must rather\n  be ascribed to a growing conviction among the people that the study\n  is indispensable in secondary education. That this must be the case\n  is seen by the attendant circumstances. In the first place, Latin has\n  become an elective in nearly all high schools; in the next place,\n  many rich equivalents are offered, both in science and in modern\n  languages; and finally our system of universal elementary education\n  has sent large classes of persons into the secondary schools that\n  have never previously been there. Yet the number of students electing\n  this study grows by leaps and bounds.\n\n    =Note.=--(1) The assertion is often heard that the ancient\n    languages supply a permanent standard by which to judge of the\n    progress and the decay of modern languages; also that the ancient\n    classics must be regarded as furnishing the models for purity and\n    beauty in style. These and similar contentions are undeniably\n    correct, and carry the greatest weight, but they are unpedagogical.\n    They embody the absolute requirement, but not that which younger\n    pupils need for _their_ culture; and the large majority of those\n    who are fitting themselves for official positions cannot afford to\n    make themselves guardians of language and style. They must take\n    language as it is, and acquire the manner of expression which is\n    adapted to the world of affairs. Those higher cares belong to\n    authors, but no one is educated for authorship.\n\n    (2) It is a familiar notion that the difficulty would diminish if\n    the ancient languages were begun later, that then the ability to\n    learn would prove greater. On the contrary, the older the pupil the\n    stronger the tendency of his thought-mass toward exclusion. Memory\n    work must be introduced early, especially where its usefulness\n    depends wholly on the acquisition of facility. It is essential to\n    begin early in order to make it possible to proceed slowly and to\n    avoid unpedagogical pressure. Four hours a week of Latin do not\n    hurt a healthy, bright boy, provided his other tasks are arranged\n    with pedagogical correctness. To put modern languages first would\n    be to put the cart before the horse. Useful enough, however, are\n    single French and English expressions relating to everyday life.\n    They will be of service in acquiring the pronunciation; but a few\n    phrases do not constitute the teaching of a language.\n\n[37] Bennett and Bristol, \u201cThe Teaching of Latin and Greek,\u201d Longmans,\nGreen & Co., New York, 1900.\n\n279. The manner of teaching the ancient languages, where they are\nregarded as a matter of necessity or conventionality, no account being\ntaken of pedagogical considerations, need not be discussed here. It\nmust rather be admitted at once that no pedagogical means whatever\nexist, whereby those who live with their interests strictly confined\nto the present could be brought to acquire, with genuine sympathy, the\ncontent of the works of antiquity.\n\n  American teachers in estimating the value of Latin for the high\n  school student lay more stress upon training in the mastery of the\n  mother-tongue than upon the literary contents of the classical\n  writings. Professor Bennett in his treatment of \u201cThe Teaching of\n  Latin in the Secondary School,\u201d[38] places in strong light the\n  splendid linguistic training a youth undergoes when taught by a good\n  teacher of this subject. In Germany, since Herbart\u2019s time, Professor\n  Russell tells us that the teaching of Latin has fluctuated between\n  two aims--\u201cbetween that view which makes the classics a purely formal\n  discipline, and that other view which bases the worth of such a\n  study on the acquisition of humanistic culture, in contact with \u2018the\n  best thoughts of the best men of antiquity.\u2019 In the one case it is\n  considered of equal value as a means of preparation for all trades\n  and professions dependent on intellectual acumen; in the other case\n  it is of worth only for those who can practically apply the technical\n  knowledge thereby acquired, or may have sufficient leisure to enjoy\n  its \u00e6sthetic qualities. It is a question of making the ancient\n  literature a means to an end or an end in itself.\u201d[39]\n\n  The dogma of formal discipline as a leading aim in education has\n  nowhere been more discredited than among Herbartian writers. A\n  judicious estimate of its truth and error is made by Professor\n  Hinsdale.[40] His main conclusions are as follows:--\n\n  1. The degree to which power generated by education is general\n  depends upon the extent to which it energizes the mind, and\n  particularly the extent to which it overflows into congruent channels.\n\n  2. Such power is far more special than general; it is only in a\n  limited sense that we can be said to have a store of mobilized mental\n  power.\n\n  3. No one kind of mental exercise--no few kinds--can develop the\n  whole mind.\n\n  4. No study, no single group of studies, contains within itself the\n  possibilities of a whole education.\n\n  On the other hand, American students rarely study classics long\n  enough to acquire much facility in mastering the literary contents of\n  the ancient writers. If, to considerable extent, the idea of formal\n  discipline is a delusive one, and the idea of a broad, humanistic\n  culture is an illusion of the American schoolmaster, we must justify\n  the study of Latin upon other grounds. The linguistic advantages\n  arising from it are obvious and decided. Among these stands first the\n  mastery of the mother-tongue, first through the comparative study\n  rendered necessary by translation, then by study of the roots of a\n  large part of the English vocabulary, and more remotely by the light\n  thrown by Latin upon history and institutional life.\n\n  There is an advantage in Latin of great, though usually unmentioned,\n  importance, and that is its peculiar usefulness as an educational\n  instrument, in that it presents to the pupil a graduated scale of\n  surmountable difficulties. In this respect it is surpassed only by\n  mathematics. The difference between a good and a poor educational\n  instrument lies in this: a study offering few surmountable obstacles\n  is a poor educational instrument, for the pupil can find no fulcrum\n  upon which to use his mental powers. Thus he may stare at a natural\n  object when directed to observe its characteristics, but he finds\n  it hard to think when no thought problem is presented to him. But a\n  study that involves thought problems of a definite and solvable kind\n  is a good educational instrument, for the pupil finds something to\n  move and a fulcrum upon which he may exert his power. Translation\n  from an ancient language exercises the working powers of a student up\n  to their highest efficiency, for the translation of ten sentences may\n  easily provide the hardest kind of work for an hour; if ten lines do\n  not, then more lines will. When a foreign language ceases to offer\n  such surmountable difficulties, we leave it for something else that\n  does offer them.\n\n[38] Bennett and Bristol, \u201cThe Teaching of Latin and Greek,\u201d pp. 11\u201332,\nLongmans, Green & Co., New York, 1900.\n\n[39] Russell, \u201cGerman Higher Schools,\u201d Longmans, Green & Co., New York,\n1899.\n\n[40] Hinsdale, \u201cStudies in Education,\u201d pp. 46\u201361, Werner School Book\nCo., Chicago, 1896.\n\n280. Pedagogically considered, every difference in the degree of vivid\nrealization of antiquity, in the degree of its correlation with\nother main departments of knowledge, and in the extent to which a\ndisagreeable aftertaste of school-day drudgery is prevented, determines\nthe greater or smaller value to be ascribed to the knowledge acquired.\nIf the same realization could be secured without the ancient languages\nand without the potency of early impressions, then the studies\nmentioned in preceding chapters, which outline the work of burgher\nschools, would leave nothing further to be desired; and the study of\nthe ancient languages in gymnasia would be a necessary evil, highly as\ntheir incidental advantages are usually extolled.\n\n281. But languages alone give to a boy a picture neither of bygone\nages nor of men of the past; to him they are solely troublesome tasks\nimposed by the teacher. Nor can golden maxims, fables, and short\nnarratives change his attitude. For even if these are well suited to\nthe youthful mind, they do not materially offset the aversion to the\nwork on stems, which have to be memorized; inflections, which must be\npractised; and conjunctions, which are required for guidance in the\nstudy of periods.\n\nAncient history (243, 246) is the only possible groundwork for the\npedagogical treatment of the ancient languages.\n\n282. Now it is true that if Latin is begun first, Eutropius and\nCornelius Nepos suggest themselves as suitable authors for study, as\nsoon as the merest rudiments of Latin have been learned in connection\nwith instruction in the mother-tongue (277). And their use is not to\nbe entirely condemned, provided the teacher takes it upon himself to\nmake the past present through narration. But, as is well known, these\nauthors are after all very meagre, and, besides, where to look for a\npath beyond them still remains an open question.\n\n283. The reasons which accord to Homer\u2019s \u201cOdyssey\u201d the preference\nfor early use are familiar.[41] They are patent to every one who\nattentively reads the \u201cOdyssey\u201d with constant reference to the various\nmain classes of interest which teaching is to awaken (83\u201394). But the\nquestion involved is not merely one of immediate effect, but also of\nfinding points of departure for the later stages of instruction. There\ncan be no better preparation for ancient history than to establish an\ninterest in ancient Greece by means of the Homeric story. At the same\ntime, the soil is being made ready for the cultivation of taste, and\nfor language study.\n\nTo reasons of this kind, derived directly from the chief aim of all\nteaching and opposed only by tradition (the conventional _doing_ of\nthe classics), the philologists will have to listen some time, if they\nare not willing that, with the growing importance of history and of\nthe natural sciences, and with the increasing pressure of material\ninterests, the study of Greek in schools should be pushed into a corner\nand suffer a reduction similar to that which has already taken place\nin the case of Hebrew. (A few decades ago Greek came very near being\nremitted for all but those intending to study theology.)\n\nOf course, the \u201cOdyssey\u201d possesses no miraculous power to inspire\nthose who have no talent whatever for language studies or do not take\nthem seriously; nevertheless, as many years of experience have shown,\nit surpasses every other work of antiquity that might be selected in\ndefinite pedagogical effect. Moreover, its study does not preclude\nan early commencement of Latin (nor even of Greek, where that seems\nnecessary); only Latin cannot be pushed with the customary rapidity\nat the same time; for the \u201cOdyssey\u201d requires an hour daily, and\ngrammatical and lexicological work besides.\n\nExperience has proved that the grammatical rudiments pertaining to\ndeclension and conjugation must be worked over very carefully first,\nalthough reduced to what is absolutely essential. Besides, the first\nlessons in the \u201cOdyssey\u201d ought not to exceed a few lines each time;\nand, during the first months, no accurate memorizing of words is to\nbe demanded. But farther on the acquisition of a vocabulary must be\nvigorously insisted on; in fact, it becomes the pupil\u2019s most necessary\ncollateral work. By continued effort in this direction a considerable\nportion of the whole stock of words is gradually acquired; the language\nforms are supplied with the content to which they refer, and through\nwhich they become significant. The teacher must know exactly, not only\nwhen to hasten on, but also when to delay; for every perceptible gain\nin facility is likely to betray pupils into some carelessness which\nneeds to be corrected at once. With good pupils it is not infeasible\nto read the whole of the \u201cOdyssey,\u201d since facility increases very\nrapidly toward the end. Nevertheless, such work should not extend much\nbeyond two years; otherwise weariness sets in, or time is taken from\nother things. In schools it will be well to assign the first four books\nto one class, perhaps the class composed of pupils nine or ten years\nold, the next class to begin with Book V. To determine exactly how\nmany books each class can work up thoroughly is unnecessary, as good\ntranslations can be used to fill in the gaps that occur. The reason\nfor the division just made will be manifest at once upon a closer\ninspection of the \u201cOdyssey.\u201d Some books more advanced pupils may later\non read by themselves, but they should be expected to render an account\nof what they are doing. It is not necessary at this stage to explain in\ndetail the rarer peculiarities of the Homeric dialect. Such things may\nwell be deferred until, later in the course, the study of Homer (of\nthe \u201cIliad\u201d) is resumed. The teacher who is afraid of the difficulties\nconnected with the plan presented should remind himself of the fact\nthat progress by any other path is equally beset with difficulties.\nWhile at work on Homer, care should be taken to keep pupils from being\ninfluenced simultaneously by such tales as those from the Arabian\nNights, because they blunt the sense of the wonderful.\n\n[41] These reasons apply in no way to the \u201cIliad,\u201d but only to\nthe \u201cOdyssey.\u201d Moreover, it is presupposed that religious feeling\nhas been sufficiently awakened long beforehand. In that case the\nmythical elements can do no harm whatever, for, in so far as they\nare inconsistent with religious feeling, their effect is decidedly\nrepellent, and renders an excess of illusion impossible.\n\n284. Only two poets, two historians, and two philosophers need to be\nmentioned to indicate the continuation of the course. Homer and Virgil;\nHerodotus and C\u00e6sar; Plato and Cicero. What authors should precede\nthese, or should intervene, or follow, may be left for circumstances\nto determine. Xenophon, Livy, Euripides, Sophocles, and Horace will\nprobably always retain a place by the side of those mentioned; Horace\nespecially offers brief maxims, the after-effect of which the educator\nshould by no means underestimate. It is obvious that Virgil and\nHerodotus are rendered much easier by taking up Homer first; on the\nother hand, the return to Homer (to the \u201cIliad\u201d) during adolescence, is\nas little to be omitted, if only on account of mythology, as the return\nto ancient history for purposes of pragmatic study (250). Again, the\nsyntactical scheme of the ancient languages, which involves far greater\ndifficulties than do even inflections and vocabulary, is more easily\nmastered by placing the poets before the prose-writers, because then\nthe pupils are not compelled to struggle with all the difficulties of\nsentence structure at once. At any rate, it is desirable that, just\nas the student\u2019s Greek vocabulary is built up from the \u201cOdyssey,\u201d his\nhoard of Latin words should be drawn from the \u201c\u00c6neid.\u201d The latter,\nhowever, will hardly be read entirely, because it cannot be gone over\nwith nearly the same rapidity as the latter books of the \u201cOdyssey,\u201d\nwhen facility in reading has been attained. C\u00e6sar\u2019s \u201cBellum Gallicum\u201d\nmust be studied with exceptional carefulness, since its style comes\nnearer to being a desirable first model for the student of Latin\nthan the style of the other authors in use. After this has been\naccomplished, the strictly systematic teaching and memorizing of Latin\nsyntax, together with selected brief examples, is in order as one of\nthe main lines of work. In Plato several books of the \u201cRepublic,\u201d\nespecially the first, second, fourth, and eighth, constitute a\ndesirable goal. That Cicero should be revealed to young minds on his\nbrilliant side first, namely, as orator, need scarcely be mentioned.\nLater on his philosophical writings become important; but many passages\nrequire a fuller development of the subject-matter than is given by him.\n\nCicero should frequently be read aloud, or rather declaimed, by the\nteacher. An orator demands the living voice; the usual monotonous\nreading by the pupils fails to do justice to him. As regards Tacitus\nfor school use, there is a difference of opinion. Generally speaking,\nauthors that say much in few words are particularly welcome, not\nmerely to the explaining teacher, but also to the responsive pupil.\nThe opposite is true of Cicero; he must be read rapidly in order to be\nappreciated.\n\n  For a full discussion of Latin texts to be read, the reader is\n  referred to Professor Bennett\u2019s chapters on \u201cThe Teaching of Latin\n  in the Secondary Schools,\u201d[42] pp. 111\u2013130. For a discussion of the\n  Greek texts, see Professor Bristol\u2019s exposition in the same volume.\n\n[42] Bennett and Bristol, \u201cThe Teaching of Latin and Greek,\u201d Longmans,\nGreen & Co., New York, 1900.\n\n285. Experience has long since shown how much or how little can be done\nwith students in Greek and Latin composition; and no method will ever\nbe devised which would induce earlier than at present that degree of\nmental maturity which reveals itself in a good Latin style. So long as\ngymnasium pupils are no more select than they now are, the majority,\nso far as writing Latin is concerned, will begin something that will\nnever lead to successful performance. It would be better, instead, to\npractise diligently that which can be achieved, namely, composition\nduring the recitation hour, with the assistance of the teacher, and,\nafterward co\u00f6perative consideration of the appointed task, by the\npupils. This plan secures the advantage of set essays without the\ndisadvantage of innumerable mistakes, the correction of which the pupil\nrarely remembers. Joint labor is interesting, and can be adapted to\nevery age. As a substitute for essays, abstracts in Latin of texts\npreviously interpreted are to be recommended, these abstracts to be\nmade at first with the help and afterward without the help of the book\nin question. To abstract does not mean to imitate, and ought not to\nmean that. To imitate Cicero requires Cicero\u2019s talent, and unless this\nexists, the attempt to imitate, it is to be feared, will result in\ncold artificiality. Even C\u00e6sar is not so simple that his style could\nbe taught and learned. But many passages of C\u00e6sar may be memorized; at\nfirst short sentences, then longer periods, finally whole chapters. The\nusefulness of this practice is attested by experience.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\n=Further Specification of Didactics=\n\n\n286. The more precise determination of the theory of instruction\ndepends on the nature of particular subjects of instruction, on the\nindividuality of the pupil, and on the external conditions of ethical\nlife.\n\n287. Where the goal to be reached is technical knowledge and\nmultiformity of scholarship, each branch of study asserts its claims\nto thoroughness without regard to the rest. Such is the attitude of\nthe state, which requires many men with special training, together\nconstituting an efficient whole. Hence it disseminates knowledge and\nestablishes institutions of learning, without inquiring, save with\nreference to future official appointments, who the individuals are that\navail themselves of the offered opportunities.\n\n288. The family, on the other hand, interested as it is in the\nindividual, must take the pedagogical point of view, according to\nwhich every human being is to realize the best he is capable of. It is\nessential that families should grasp this distinction, and accordingly\nconcern themselves, not with greatness of particular achievements, but\nwith the totality of culture possible for the individual.\n\n289. Closely connected with the foregoing is the difference between\ninterest and skill. Skill of various sorts can be obtained by force;\nbut it is of no value to general culture when the corresponding\ninterest is lacking.\n\nInsistence on this distinction is a sufficient answer to much\nuncalled-for criticism and much unwarrantable assumption of superior\nknowledge concerning the results of early stages of instruction. These\nresults, it is charged, are inadequate; if this or that had been\nconverted earlier into ability to do, greater progress would have been\nmade. But when interest has not been aroused, and cannot be aroused,\ncompulsory acquisition of skill is not only worthless, leading as it\ndoes to soulless mechanical activity, but positively injurious, because\nit vitiates the pupil\u2019s mental attitude and disposition.\n\n290. Whether the pupil\u2019s individuality will endure without injury the\npressure which drill in skilful performance would necessitate, is a\nquestion which at times cannot be decided except by trial. Reading,\narithmetic, grammar, are familiar instances.\n\n291. The more perfect the instruction, the greater the opportunity it\naffords for comparing the excellences and faults of the individuals\nreceiving it simultaneously. This point is of importance both to the\ncontinuation of instruction and to training; to the latter, because the\nteacher\u2019s insight into the causes of the faults which training has to\ncombat is deepened.\n\n292. The ethical life may attach itself to views embracing the\nuniverse; it may, on the contrary, move within a very narrow range\nof thought. Now while it is true that external circumstances will\nusually set limits to instruction, its scope should nevertheless not\nbe narrower, but in every way wider than the realm of necessary,\neveryday prudence. Otherwise the individual will always be in danger of\nexaggerating his own importance and that of persons closely related to\nhim.\n\n293. It is more difficult, as a rule, to extend the mental horizon in\nthe direction of the past, than within the present. In teaching girls,\ntherefore, and children from the lower classes, greater prominence\nis given to geography and whatever can be grouped about it than to\nhistorical studies. Again, in cases where a shortening of the course of\nstudy becomes necessary, it becomes well-nigh necessary to take account\nof the difference in question. But, conversely, where the scope of\ninstruction is to be wide, the historical side, because more difficult,\nmust receive increased attention.\n\n\n\n\nSECTION II\n\nTHE FAULTS OF PUPILS AND THEIR TREATMENT\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\n=General Differentiation=\n\n\n294. Some faults are inherent; they are a part of the pupil\u2019s\nindividuality. Others have sprung up in the course of time; and of\nthese, again, some have been influenced by the factor of individuality\nmore than others. Faults that the pupil commits are left out of\naccount for the present. With increasing years some of the inherent\nfaults grow, others diminish. For there is a continual change of\nrelation between that which man derives from experience,--between\nthose ideas which rise spontaneously, and those masses of ideas which\napproach stability. There is, besides, an ever varying succession of\ndiverse reproductions. All this change is pervaded throughout by the\nconsciousness of one\u2019s own body (the original base of support for\nself-consciousness) with respect not merely to its needs, but also to\nits powers of motion and fitness for use. Again, the apprehension\nof the similar is being multiplied; the ideas of things approximate\nto general concepts. In addition, the process of judging is shaping\nmore and more the material presented; accordingly the manner in which\nthe individual analyzes and puts in order his knowledge becomes\ngradually determined. On the one hand there is a growing confidence of\naffirmation; on the other, questions remain, the answer to which is\ngiven over to the future. In part they become transformed into longing\nexpectation.\n\nUpon all that has been enumerated, the physical organization of the\nindividual exerts retarding and furthering influences. The effect of\nthe body is seen in a certain physiological resistance to psychical\nprocesses, and in strong physical impulses far more complex, no doubt,\nthan ordinary experience shows.\n\n295. Very frequently the fact forces itself upon us, that persons who\nhave passed through many vicissitudes of fortune can nevertheless be\nrecognized by individual traits that were already noticeable in youth.\nHere a certain uniformity reveals itself in the characteristic way\nand manner in which such persons involuntarily seize upon and work\nup various impressions. In order to arrive at a just estimate of his\npupils, the teacher should observe this permanent element as early as\npossible.\n\nSome always know the right moment and whither it calls them; they\nalways perform the nearest duty, and have their stock of knowledge\nuniformly well in hand. Others bury themselves in thought, and give\nthemselves up to hopes and fears, to plans and projects: they live\nin the past or in the future, resent being disturbed by the present,\nand require time and effort to bring themselves back to it. Between\nthe former and the latter are found others, who do indeed note the\ngiven and the present, not, however, to take it as it appears, but\nrather to look beyond, for the purpose of spying what lies concealed\nbehind, or in order to move, displace, interfere, perhaps to distort,\nridicule, and caricature. With many the tendency described is merely\nsuperficial. They play and tease--a common manifestation of youthful\nanimal spirits. Now the question arises: how much seriousness lies\nback of the playfulness. How much depth beneath the animated surface?\nHere temperament enters as a factor. The play of one with a sanguine\ntemperament comes to an end; but where sourness of temper is habitual,\nthere danger threatens, if, as commonly happens, sport turns to\nearnest. Self-assertion plays a part also, manifesting itself in\nvarious ways. It assumes one form in him who has confidence in his\nstrength, physical or mental, and another form in those who know their\nweakness--with or without the mental reservation as to the future\nemployment of artifice or cunning, and so also with more or less\nacknowledgment of the superior power or authority. Passionate playing,\non the whole, implies little seriousness; but may well indicate\nsensitiveness and a propensity to freedom from restraint. Prudence in\nsport is a sign of ability to take the opponent\u2019s point of view, and\nto foresee his plans. Love of play is far more welcome to the teacher\nthan indolence, or languid curiosity, or gloomy seriousness; it is one\nof the minor faults, if now and then work is forgotten over a game and\ntime wasted; the situation is more grave, sometimes very grave indeed,\nwhere extravagance, or greed of gain, or secretiveness, or bad company\nis involved. In such cases decided interference on the part of the\nteacher is necessary.\n\n296. Since courage and rationality grow with increasing years, the\nfaults of mere weakness leave room for hope of improvement, although\nthere is need of an invigorating mode of life, invigorating physically\nand mentally, and of counsel and reproof in particular instances. Under\ncontinued watchful care weak natures improve much more than at first\nthought would seem to be likely.\n\n297. Unsteadiness, continual restlessness, where they accompany good\nhealth without being the result of external stimulation, are doubtful\nindications. Here it will be well to look to the sequence of thoughts.\nWhere, in spite of variableness in general, thoughts are sound and\nwell connected, this restlessness is not a serious matter. The case is\nworse when the opposite is true, especially when the vascular system\nappears very irritable, and dreamlike reveries occur. Here the danger\nof insanity is seen lurking in the distance.\n\nThe appropriate treatment for such pupils consists in holding them\nstrictly to definite tasks, especially to those occupations that\ncompel a close observation of the external world, and in exacting the\nperformance of the work assigned, without failing to encourage whatever\nis undertaken from choice.\n\n298. Sensual impulses and violence of temper are apt to go from bad to\nworse as pupils grow older. Against these, careful supervision, earnest\ncensure, and the whole rigor of moral principles must be brought to\nbear. Momentary ebullitions of passion, however, unless persistently\nobstinate attempts are made to justify them, need to be handled gently,\nthat is, as evils calling for precaution and vigilance.\n\n299. The faults hitherto noted lie for the most part on the surface.\nOthers have to be studied as occasion offers in instruction.\n\nThere are minds so dull that even the attempt merely to secure\nconnection with definite portions of such thoughts as they have\ndoes not succeed. Easy questions intended to raise their ideas into\nconsciousness only increase the resistance to be overcome. They are\nseized with embarrassment from which they seek to escape, sometimes by\na simple, \u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d sometimes by the first wrong answer that\ncomes to hand. Mental activity has to be enforced, yet remains feeble\nat best, and it is only in after years, under pressure of necessity,\nthat they acquire some facility for a limited sphere. Others, whom one\nwould be inclined to call contracted rather than generally limited,\nbecause by them reproduction is performed successfully but within a\nnarrow compass, exhibit a lively endeavor to learn, but they learn\nmechanically, and what cannot be learned in that way they apprehend\nincorrectly. These undertake, nevertheless, to form and express\njudgments, but their judgments turn out to be erroneous; hence they\nbecome first discouraged and then obstinate. Again, there are those\nwhose ideas cannot be dislodged, and still others whose ideas cannot\nbe brought to a halt. These two classes call for a more detailed\nconsideration.\n\n300. Among the various masses of ideas (29) some necessarily acquire\npermanent predominance, others come and go. But if this relation\nreaches full development and becomes fixed too early, the controlling\nideas no longer admit of being arrested to the extent necessary\nfor the reception of the new material offered by instruction. This\nfact explains the experience that clever boys, notwithstanding the\nbest intentions to receive instruction, yet frequently appear very\nunreceptive, and that a certain rigidity of mind, which in later\nmanhood would not occasion surprise, seems to have strayed, as it\nwere, into boyhood. No one should allow himself to be betrayed into\nencouraging such narrowness by commendatory terms such as pertain to\nstrength and energy; just as little, however, should clumsy teaching\nand its sequel, listless learning, be left out of account, as having no\nbearing on this state of affairs.\n\nFor, rather may it be assumed that the fault mentioned might have been\nlargely forestalled by very early instruction of all kinds, provided\nsuch instruction had been combined with a variety of attractive\nrather than of too difficult tasks. Where, on the other hand, mental\nnervousness has once taken root, it cannot be eradicated by all the art\nand painstaking effort of a multitude of teachers. When the questions\nof a child, six years old let us say, give rise to the apprehension\nthat they proceed from a too contracted mental horizon, there should be\nno delay about resorting to manifold forms of stimulation, especially\nin the way of widening the pupil\u2019s experience to the greatest\npracticable extent.\n\n301. On the other hand, it is not rare to find boys, and even young\nmen, in whose minds no one thought-mass attains to any very prominent\nactivity. Such boys are always open to every impression and ready for\nany change of thought. They are wont to chat pleasantly, and to form\nhasty attachments. Here belong those who learn easily and forget as\nquickly.\n\nThis defect, too, when once confirmed, resists all skill and good\nintentions; strength of purpose, from the very nature of the case,\nis out of the question. The situation varies in gravity, however,\naccording to the influences of the earliest environment. If these\nproved distracting, the fault mentioned assumes alarming proportions\neven in minds otherwise well endowed. But where some form or other\nof necessary respect has been steadily at work, the youth will raise\nhimself to a higher plane than the boy gave promise of doing. Least\nof all, however, can the teacher allow himself to be betrayed into\nhoping for a future development of talent by superficial alertness,\ncombined, it may be, with droll fancies, bold pranks, and the like.\nTalent reveals itself through persistent endeavor, sustained even under\ncircumstances little favorable to it, and not until such endeavor\nclearly manifests itself is the thought of giving it support to be\nentertained.\n\nThe two faults under discussion may indeed come to light only in the\ncourse of time; nevertheless, they are inherent faults, and can be\nmitigated, to be sure, but not completely cured.\n\n302. Far easier to deal with are the erratic movements of energetic\ncharacters capable of ardent enthusiasm. The mere thoroughness and\nmany-sidedness of good instruction, which emphasizes and aims to\neffect rational connection and balance of mind, obviously supply the\ncorrective.\n\n303. Originally it would have been easier to have prevented those\nfaults which are due to the mismanagement or to the omission of early\ngovernment, instruction, or training. But with time, the difficulties\nof a cure grow in a very rapid ratio. In general, it is well to note\nthat the teacher has every reason to congratulate himself, if, after\nearly neglect, there appear under improved treatment some belated\ntraces of those questions which belong to the sixth or seventh year of\nchildhood (213).\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\n=The Sources of Moral Weakness=\n\n\n304. Under this head five main points come up for consideration:--\n\n  (1) Tendencies of the child\u2019s will impulses.\n  (2) Ethical judgments and their absence.\n  (3) Formation of maxims.\n  (4) Organization of maxims.\n  (5) Application of organized maxims.\n\n305. (1) Where training has not provided for occupation and for the\ndistribution of time, we must always expect to encounter an activity\nwhich has no aim, and which forgets its own purposes. From such a state\nof affairs arise a craving for liberty averse to all control, and,\nwhere several pupils are grouped together, contention, either for the\npossession of something or for the sake of showing off. Each wants\nto be first; recognition of the just equality of all is deliberately\nrefused. Mutual ill-will intrenches itself and stealthily waits for an\nopportunity to break forth. Here is the fountain head of many passions;\neven those which spring from excessive sensuousness must be classed\nunder this first head, in so far as they are promoted by lack of\nregulated activity. The havoc caused by passions is a pervading element\nin the discussion of all of the remaining topics.\n\n306. (2) It is true that education usually counteracts the tendency to\nindolence and to unruliness, not only by the use of the spur and the\nbridle, but also through guidance in the direction of the proprieties;\ngiving rise to the thought \u201cwhat will others say,\u201d it shows existing\nconditions as mirrored in the minds of others. But when these others\nare compelled to remain silent, or when the pupil is sure of their\npartiality, or is exposed to their errors of judgment, the effect is to\nvitiate rather than to arouse the ethical judgment.\n\nNevertheless, calling attention to the judgment of others, and not\nmerely of particular individuals, is very much better than waiting\nfor the spontaneous awakening of ethical judgment. In most cases the\nwaiting would be in vain. Matters of ethical import are either too\nclose to the ordinary human being, and so, of course, to the boy left\nentirely to himself, or they are too remote, _i.e._, either they have\nnot as yet passed outside the pale of affection or aversion, or else\nthey are already fading from the field of vision. In neither case can\nan ethical judgment be formed with success. At any rate, it will vanish\nbefore it can produce an effect.\n\nIn order to reach those ethical judgments on which morality rests, the\nchild must see will images, see them without the stirring of his own\nwill impulse.\n\nThese will images, moreover, must embrace relations, the single members\nof which are themselves wills, and the beholder is to keep such members\nequally in sight, until the estimate of value rises spontaneously\nwithin him. But such contemplation implies a keenness and calmness of\napprehension not to be looked for in unruly children. Hence it may\nbe inferred how necessary training is--serious, not to say severe,\ntraining. Unruliness must have been tamed and regular attention\nsecured. The preliminary condition fulfilled, it is further essential\nthat there shall be no lack of sufficiently distinct presentations of\nthe foregoing will images. And even then the ethical judgment often\nmatures so tardily that it has to be pronounced in the name of other\npersons--persons higher in authority.\n\n307. In this connection the instances of one-sidedness of ethical\njudgment must not be overlooked, such as occur when one of the\npractical ideas stands out more prominently than another, or when that\nwhich is outwardly proper rises above them all.\n\n308. (3) All desires persistently operative and productive of\nfluctuating states of emotional excitement, therefore rightly called\npassions, lead to experiential knowledge of the beneficial and the\ninjurious. The beneficial suggests frequent repetition in the future,\nthe injurious continued avoidance. Accordingly rules of life take\nshape, and the resolution always to observe them is made. In other\nwords, maxims result.\n\nFrom simple resolution to actual observance is still, to be sure, a far\ncry. But the claim for the universal validity of the rule, so that the\nindividual may regard it as applicable to others as well as to himself,\nenters the mind far more directly by way of desires which point forward\nto similar cases in the future, than it does under the guidance of\nethical judgments whose universal element is abstracted from given\nsingle instances with difficulty. In fact, this difficulty is often so\ngreat that the ethical judgment itself may be missed in the search for\nthe universal.\n\n309. Now, the promptness and loyalty of obedience to the sum total of\nduties, once recognized as such and fixed through the maxims adopted,\nare passed upon by the moral judgment. Correct moral judgment,\ntherefore, presupposes true insight into the value of will, which\ninsight again can be obtained only through the ethical estimate as a\nwhole. But in view of the circumstances pointed out a moment ago, we\nmust expect to come upon maxims that are false or at least inaccurate.\nUnder the latter head fall points of honor, social obligations, fear of\nridicule.\n\n310. (4) Maxims ought to form a unit, but in youth they are not fully\ndetermined even singly, much less are they closely united into a\ndefinite whole. The proviso of exceptions still clings to them, so also\nthat of future tests through experience.\n\nThe maxims arising out of the desires and pleasures can never be\nbrought into perfect union with those springing from ethical judgments.\nAccordingly the wrong subordination takes place, or, at all events, a\ncontamination of the latter by the former.\n\n311. (5) In the application of maxims more or less unified, the\nvolition of the moment is apt to prove stronger than the previous\nresolves. Hence, man becomes only too prone to condone and fall in\nwith discriminations between theory and practice. The consequence is a\ncertain moral empiricism, which, if nothing else will do to justify its\ndisregard of moral law, falls back upon pious feelings. Plans of action\nare formed without regard to maxims, but with the apparent compensation\nof another kind of morally regular life.\n\nSuch contempt of moral judgment gains ground and spreads ruin all the\nmore, the farther the ethical judgments on which morality must rest\nfall short of the clearness that ought to mark them, and the cruder\nthe pupil\u2019s knowledge is of the antithesis between them and maxims of\nutility or pleasure.\n\n312. The natural aid to the formation and union of maxims is the\nsystem of practical philosophy itself. But the teaching of it involves\ndifficulties. One of them is that such marked differences occur among\nyoung men in the relation of systematic exposition to the grade of\nculture which they have attained. For observations of this nature,\nreligious instruction prior to confirmation provides an early\nopportunity. How such instruction is to be given, is, of course, by\nno means immaterial, but, after all, the moral sentiments, which it\ngathers together and strengthens, must, in substance, already exist.\n\nAgain, if the end sought were more strictly scientific form for the\nmoral sentiments, there would have to be ground for presuming that\nthe student is able to appreciate that form and has acquired skill\nin the use of logical methods. The study of logic, together with\nappropriate exercises, would obviously be a necessary preliminary step.\nPrerequisites like these need to be borne in mind, especially in the\ncase of lower schools and all other institutions that do not, as a\nrule, lead to the university.\n\n313. Erroneous systems of ethics, moreover, might occasion the adoption\nof very absurd measures, concerning which, on account of the importance\nof the subject, at least something has to be said. Everything would be\nturned upside down, if, instead of bringing together and uniting maxims\nunder the concept virtue, the attempt were made to deduce from some one\nformula of the categorical imperative a multiplicity of maxims and from\nthese, rather than from the original ethical judgments, the estimates\nof will values, the final undertaking being, perhaps, to divert the\nwill itself by such operations.\n\nOn the contrary, the will must early have been given such direction by\ngovernment and training, that its lines of tendency will of themselves\ncoincide as nearly as possible with the paths disclosed later, when\nthe pupil is being shown the way through ethical judgments. Those\nbeginnings of evil noted above (305) must not be permitted to appear at\nall, for their consequences usually prove ineradicable. But even so, it\nis not certain that a way can be hewn through the errors of others to\ntruer judgments. When, however, both ends have been gained, experience\nand history and literature must next be called in, in order to show\nclearly the confusion into which the maxims based upon pleasure and\npassion plunge human beings. Not until now has the time come for more\nor less systematic lectures, or for the study of suitable classical\nwriters. Lastly, there will still be need of frequent appeals to moral\nobedience, and it will be found necessary to reinforce these appeals by\nreflections of a religious character.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\n=The Effects of Training=\n\n\n314.\n\n  A. Training prevents passions in that it:--\n     (1) satisfies needs,\n     (2) avoids opportunities for violent desires,\n     (3) provides employment,\n     (4) accustoms to order,\n     (5) demands reflection and responsibility.\n\n  B. Training influences the emotions in that it:--\n     (1) checks violent outbreaks,\n     (2) creates other emotions,\n     (3) and supplements self-control.\n\n  C. Training impresses the courtesies of life (counteracts bad\n       manners), consequently:--\n     (1) the deportment of individuals is made approximately uniform;\n     (2) the number of possible points of social contact becomes much\n         greater than where strife and contention rule;\n     (3) while the development of one or the other individual is\n         checked, the more important energies are not stifled, provided\n         excess of severity be avoided.\n\n  D. Training makes cautions, for:--\n     (1) It restricts foolhardiness,\n     (2) It warns against dangers,\n     (3) It punishes in order to make wiser,\n     (4) It observes and accustoms the human being to the thought of\n         being observed.\n\n315. Looked at as a whole, these obvious and familiar effects of\ntraining show at once that, generally speaking, its power to lessen\nevil is very great, and that it is capable of effectively acting upon\nthe interrelations of various masses of ideas. But they suggest also\nthe presence of danger. Training, by driving evil from the surface, may\ngive rise to clandestine deeds.\n\n316. When this happens, the relations between teacher and pupils grow\nincreasingly abnormal, since secret practices become general and\nconcerted, and the pupils assume a studied behavior in the presence of\nthe teacher.\n\nThe consequences are well known:--Inexorable severity in dealing with\nconcealed offences when discovered; great leniency in the case of open\ntransgressions; recourse to the machinery of supervision, often even to\nsecret watching, in order that the system of concealment may not get\nthe better of education.\n\n317. It lowers the dignity of the teacher to take part habitually\nin a competition between spy and concealers. He must not demand to\nknow everything, although he ought not to allow his confidence to be\nvictimized by clumsy or long-continued deception.\n\nSuch difficulties, however, only make it more intensely necessary\nthat the foundation of education be laid during the earliest years,\nwhen supervision is still easy, and the heart is reached by formative\ninfluences with greater certainty than ever afterward, and that, if\npossible, families should not for any length of time lose sight of\ntheir own members.\n\nEthical and moral judgments can be simulated; the finest maxims and\nprinciples may be learned by rote; piety may be put on as a cloak.\nUnmask the hypocrite, however, and turn him out, and, forthwith, he\nplays his game over again elsewhere. Nothing remains but recourse to\nseverity which deters, and constant occupation under close supervision\nin another quarter, in order that he may get away from the hiding\nplaces of his misdeeds. Sometimes banishment is capable of bringing\nabout improvement.\n\n318. The will is most directly tractable in social relations, where it\nappears as common will. In infancy, the child, wholly devoted to his\nmother, is manageable through her; at a later period training is surest\nof success when it promotes attachments among the young and carefully\nfosters the seeds of goodness. The social ideas, purified by teaching,\nmust gradually be added.\n\n319. But as far back as boyhood, factions spring up and exclusive\nsets are formed, facts which the teacher cannot permit to elude his\nvigilance.\n\nWhen a kind of authority is granted to some older and tried pupils\nover those younger and less mature in judgment, the former become\nresponsible; but the latter are not on that account relieved of all\nreflection on their own part, nor are they obliged to submit to every,\nthough plainly unreasonable, demand of the former.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\n=Special Faults=\n\n\n320. First of all it is necessary to distinguish between those faults\nwhich the pupil commits and those which he has. Not all faults one\ncommits are direct manifestations of those he possesses; but those\nwhich are committed repeatedly may grow permanent. This truth must be\nmade clear, and must be impressed upon the mind of the pupil to the\nfull extent of his powers of comprehension.\n\n321. In the case of false steps caused from without by unnoticed\npitfalls, or made in spite of a firm resolve to the contrary, the pupil\nis himself usually frightened by what he has done. If so, all depends\non the gravity of his offence as compared with the degree of his horror.\n\nThere is a host of minor faults, blunders, and even acts resulting in\ndamage, which tax the patience of the teacher severely; but it would\nimply a mistaken conception of the difficulty of moral education, if\nhe should repel the frankness of his pupils by harsh treatment of such\noffence. Frankness is too essential a factor to be sacrificed; once\ngone it will hardly ever wholly return.\n\n322. But the first lie uttered with evil intent, the first act of\ntheft, and similar actions positively detrimental to morality or\nhealth, have to be dealt with severely, and always in such a way that\nthe pupil who thought he was permitting himself a slight fault, is made\nto experience most thoroughly both fear and censure.\n\n323. Serious treatment of a first offence is demanded also where pupils\ntry to see how far they may safely disregard authority and command.\nIt is important, however, not to overestimate the intention of these\nattempts; important also to exhibit strength, but not anger. Yet\nthere are cases where the teacher must seem to act with some warmth,\nbecause the necessary treatment, if combined with coldness, would only\nintensify bitterness and cause pain an inordinate length of time. But\nvery likely as much feeling as is expedient will show itself upon\nsimply laying aside the assumed coldness.\n\n324. On the restoration of perfect order after a period during which\ngovernment and training were lacking, a large number of faults will\ndisappear of themselves, and accordingly do not require to be combated\none by one. Respect for order, and incentives sufficiently strong to\nregular activity, are the main things.\n\n325. Faults which the pupil seems to possess are often only the\nborrowed maxims of the society which he hopes to enter. Here it becomes\nthe business of education to set him right, if possible, and to\nelevate his view of human relations, in order that he may disdain the\nfalse appearances he before held in esteem.\n\n326. Faults which an older pupil actually possesses rarely occur\nsingly. Moreover, they are seldom fully disclosed; their appearance is\ndetermined by a prudent regard for circumstances. During the period of\neducation such faults can, indeed, be largely prevented from growing\nworse, but the radical improvement of those who are secretive from\nprudence is rarely to be thought of before they have become more\nprudent still, too proud for concealment, and more susceptible to the\ntrue estimate of moral values.\n\nWhere older boys and young men are found to possess unused talents, and\nwhere instruction can be so arranged as to develop them, there is some\nprospect of supplying a counterbalance to those habits which have been\ncontracted. But, in general, efforts looking toward a lasting reform\nare successful only when made at an early age. At all events, where\nthere is much to amend, the feeling of dependence on strict training\nmust be kept alive for a long time.\n\n327. More success is likely to attend the endeavor to correct those\nfaults which are not tolerated within the social class of which the\npupil regards himself a member. Two factors determine the proper mode\nof procedure: the importance of making the pupil acquainted with the\nworthiest side of his social group, and, on the other hand, the\nunavoidable necessity of causing him to see its less noble features in\ncase he discovers in it free scope for his inherent faults.\n\n328. Here the pupil\u2019s capacity for education, as well as the limits\nof that capacity, are brought home to the teacher. As boys approach\nmanhood, they let birth and external circumstances designate for\nthem that class of society to which they will belong. The class\ndefined, they seek to acquire its form of life, and to get into its\nmain current. On the way thither they accept and take along so much\nof higher motives, of knowledge and insight, as, on the one hand,\ninstruction offers and training favors, and as, on the other hand,\nthe individuality of each one, which the earliest impressions have\nfurther determined, is ready to assimilate. Those are rare exceptions\nwho, through the development of an absorbing interest of some kind,\nin religion, or science, or art, have become less susceptible to the\nattractive force of their social class. Their course has been marked\nout by the instruction which induced the absorption; henceforth they\nare self-actively engaged in the pursuit of whatever accords with the\nend in view, and accept only a small part of what is presented to them.\n\n329. Specific forms of a pupil\u2019s attitude toward society, especially\nthe relative prominence in his mind of state or family relations, will\nhave to receive due consideration in marshalling motives to counteract\nparticular faults. Indeed, the same is true of the appeal to those\nmotives through which it is sought to establish a preponderance of\nworthier endeavor over moral imperfection in general.\n\n\n\n\nSECTION III\n\nREMARKS ON THE ORGANIZATION OF EDUCATION\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\n=Home Education=\n\n\n330. On discovering that his own efforts encounter impediments, the\nindividual teacher might easily come to think that society could\ndo everything, if it only would, and if it possessed the necessary\ninsight. Further reflection, however, reveals the existence of\ndifficulties peculiar both to state and family.\n\n331. The state needs soldiers, farmers, mechanics, officials, etc., and\nis concerned with their efficiency. Its attitude toward a large number\nof persons, whose existence as individuals has significance only in a\nnarrow sphere, is, in general, far more that of supervision designed to\nprevent the harm they might do, than one of direct helpfulness. He who\nis able to render competent service receives preferment; the weaker has\nto give way to the stronger; the shortcomings of one are made good by\nanother.\n\n332. The state applies its tests to what can be tested, to the outward\nside of conduct and of knowledge. It does not penetrate to the inner\nlife. Teachers in public schools cannot penetrate much farther; they,\ntoo, are more concerned with the sum total of knowledge imparted by\nthem, than with the individual and the way in which he relates his\nknowledge to himself.\n\n333. To the family, however, no stranger can make up for what one\nof its members lacks; to the family the inner condition becomes so\nmanifest, and is often felt so keenly, that the merely external does\nnot satisfy. It is obvious, therefore, that moral education will always\nremain essentially a home task, and that the institutions of the state\nare to be resorted to for educative purposes only with a view to\nsupplementing the home.\n\nBut on closer inspection it is found that family life is very often\ntoo busy, too full of care, or too noisy, for that rigor which is\nundeniably required both for instruction and for morality. Luxury and\nwant alike harbor dangers for youth. Consequently families lean on the\nstate for support more than they ought.\n\n334. Private institutions as such do not possess the same motive power\nas either state or family, and are seldom able to make themselves\nindependent of the comparisons to which they are exposed, because of\nthe fact that they are expected in one case to take the place of the\nstate schools, and in another that of the family.\n\nNevertheless, sturdy minds which do not require the emulation obtaining\nin schools can be advanced more rapidly, and instruction adapted\nmore easily to individual needs, than in public institutions. As for\ntraining, moreover, the evils that may spring from environment can be\nprevented more successfully than is possible in many families.\n\nIf the institutions in question could choose from among many teachers\nand many pupils, they might, under otherwise favorable circumstances,\nbe able to achieve great results. But the fact of a picked set of\npupils alone shows how little the whole need of education would be\nmet. Besides, even those that were chosen would bring with them their\nearliest impressions; they would incline toward the social conditions\nfor which they believe themselves to be destined; the faults of\nindividuality (294 _et seq._) would cling to them, unless such faults\nwere recognized before the selection, and were avoided by exclusion.\n\n335. As much as possible, then, education must return to the family.\nIn many cases private tutors will be found to be indispensable. And of\ninstructors excellently equipped as to scholarship, there will be the\nless lack, the better the work done by the gymnasia.\n\nIt must be noted, also, that instead of being the most difficult, the\nmost advanced instruction is the easiest of all, because imparted with\nthe least departure from the way in which it was received. People are\ntherefore mistaken when they assume that private tutors are capable\nof furnishing an equivalent only for the lowest classes in gymnasia. A\nfar greater difficulty lies in the fact that even the most skilful and\nactive tutor cannot give as many lessons as a school provides, and that\naccordingly more has to be left to the pupil\u2019s own efforts. To be sure,\nthis is exactly the mode of instruction which suits the bright student\nbetter than one that must accommodate itself to the many, and which on\nthat account must progress but slowly.\n\n336. But home education presupposes that sound pedagogical views have\nbeen arrived at in the home, and that their place is not occupied\nby absurd whims or half knowledge. (Niemeyer\u2019s famous work, \u201cThe\nPrinciples of Education and of Instruction,\u201d is intelligible to every\neducated person, and has been widely known for many years.)\n\n337. The necessity of sound pedagogical knowledge in the home becomes\nall the more urgent where teachers, private or public, change\nfrequently--whereby inequalities of instruction and treatment are\nintroduced which need to be corrected.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\n=Concerning Schools=\n\n\n338. The school system and its relations to local authorities, on the\none hand, and to the general government, on the other, form a vast and\ndifficult subject involving not merely pedagogical principles, but also\nsuch aims as the maintenance of higher learning, the dissemination\nof useful information, and the practice of indispensable arts. In\nuniversity lectures a few words on such topics suffice, since young\nmen who accept a school position assume, at the same time, obligations\nwhich for a long time to come prescribe for them the path they must\nfollow.\n\n339. They must, in the first place, consider the character of the\nschool in which they are to instruct. The school programme provides\nthem with information concerning the scope of the curriculum, the\nestablished relations of the branches of instruction to one another,\nand the various stages in each subject. The teachers\u2019 conference\naffords them an insight into multiplex relations to authorities,\nparents, and guardians, and to the pupils, also relations leading to\nco\u00f6peration, more or less perfect, on the part of the teachers. The\nwhole of the educational effort directed upon younger, intermediate,\nand older pupils is presented in one view; it is known also where the\npupils come from, with what kind of preparation, and where as a rule\nthey go upon leaving the school.\n\n340. It must obviously make a vast difference whether pupils look\nforward to the university, or whether the gymnasium is filled with boys\nwho do not intend to pursue higher studies; whether a burgher school\nsets a final examination to mark the stage of general culture to which\nthe school is expected to advance the pupils, or whether the pupils\nenter and leave without well-defined reasons according to what seems\nbest to their respective families; whether an elementary school is\nconducted merely as an institution preparing for gymnasia or burgher\nschools, or whether its course provides for the suitable education,\nduring his whole boyhood, of the future artisan, etc.\n\nThe American school system possesses this great advantage over that\nof Germany,--it has an educational ladder planted in every elementary\nschool upon which any child from any social class may mount as high as\nhis ambition incites, or his means and ability permit. It is the only\nsuitable system in a democracy, where opportunity should be open to\nall. Even to obtain greater perfection than the German school system\nhas ever attained, a democratic nation cannot afford to impair its\npresent organization, in so far as it makes advancement possible to\nevery aspiring soul.\n\n341. In each case the official activity entered upon must adjust itself\nproperly to the whole, the outlines of which are given. These determine\nthe proportion and the subdivision of the store of learning to be kept\nready for use, the degree of confidence to be shown to pupils as to\nknowledge already acquired, and the manner in which they are to be\naddressed. It is important that the teacher should appear before his\nclass adequately prepared and with confident self-possession, that he\nshould look about attentively at every one and make each pupil feel at\nonce that it would not be easy for him to undertake anything without\nbeing noticed.\n\n342. The questions to be put to the pupils need to be formulated\nclearly and concisely, and they must follow each other in easy\nsequence. The answers must be corrected and, when necessary, repeated,\nin order that all may hear them. No pause should be unduly prolonged;\nno explanation to the weaker pupil should be allowed to become\noppressively tedious to the more advanced. Those who are at work\nat the moment must be assisted, but ought not to be disturbed by\nmuch interrupting talk. The current of thought is to be invited and\naccelerated in all, but not hurried, etc.\n\nSuch requirements instruction will meet with greater or less\ndifficulty, according as classes are small or large and the inequality\nof pupils great or slight.\n\n343. In the assigning of work the capacity of each pupil must be taken\ninto account as much as possible, in order that no one may surrender to\nill-humor and discouragement on account of excessive demands, nor any\none permit himself carelessly to abuse a task too easy for him.\n\n344. Inequalities of division resulting from rearrangements of classes,\nor other changes, must be pointed out to the authorities as clearly\nas possible, for the purpose of urging a more even distribution and a\nreduction of excessive numbers.\n\n345. In the course of the gradual extension of such efforts many a\ndefect will come to light. It may be found, for instance, that the\nschool is not a whole, because of the lack of a competent teacher for\nan important subject, or because of marked inequalities of knowledge\nand culture due to the preparatory schools, or because the school (such\nas those in small towns) follows the curriculum of a gymnasium while\nits real aim is supposed to be that of a burgher school, etc.\n\n346. Reports of such single defects will as a rule lead only to\ncorrespondingly partial improvements in the system and to relief from\nthe most onerous perplexities, since it is seldom found possible to\norganize the system of a whole province at once in such a way as to\nmake one harmonious whole.\n\n347. But in case comprehensive reforms of the school system were\nundertaken, it would be necessary not merely to tolerate great\nmultiformity, but even to create it purposely. For division of labor\nis in all human performance the right path to better things; and the\npreceding discussion must have shown with sufficient clearness how much\ndepends on a more discriminating segregation of pupils.\n\n\n\n\nINDEX\n\n\n  A, B, C, of Perception, 253.\n  Absorption and Reflection, 66.\n  Action, clandestine, 315.\n  Action and Rest, 156.\n  Administrative System, 15.\n  Adolescence, and obedience, 161;\n    bibliography for, 231.\n  \u00c6sthetics, 93.\n  Affection, 24.\n  Algebra, history of, 255.\n  Alertness of mind, superficial, 301.\n  American History _vs._ that of Greece and Rome, 241.\n  Analytic instruction, definition, 106;\n    first stages of, 111;\n    other forms of, 117;\n    with children, 214.\n  Ancient Languages, their use as employment, 98;\n    labor of mastering, 103.\n  Apperceiving attention, capacity for, 129.\n  Application, 67;\n    a stage of method, 70.\n  Approbation, 151.\n  Arguing with children, evils of, 164.\n  Arithmetic, with boys, 223\u2013224.\n  Arranging of objects, 215.\n  Arrested development, 171.\n  Art of narration, 76.\n  Arts, 251.\n  Assistance, gradual withdrawal, 204.\n  Association, 67;\n    promoted by conversation, 69.\n  Athletics, over-valuation of, 169.\n  Attention, divided, 63;\n    forced and spontaneous, 73;\n    primitive and apperceiving, 74.\n  Authority, 53\u2013163;\n    delegated, 319.\n  Aversion, 24.\n\n\n  Bad conduct of adults, 187.\n  Baldwin, quoted, 168, 195.\n  Barrenness of text-book method, 243.\n  Barriers to education, 5.\n  Bennett and Bristol, \u201cThe teaching of Latin and Greek,\u201d 279.\n  Bible stories, 234.\n  Biblical stories _vs._ Mythology, 237.\n  Boundary between boyhood and adolescence, 217.\n  Boyhood, boundary between, and adolescence, 217.\n  Brown, George P., 271.\n\n\n  Capacity for education in children, 33.\n  Caprice of will, 1, 3.\n  Categorical imperative, not the true source of maxims, 313.\n  Censure, 151.\n  Character, development of, 64;\n    objective side of, 143;\n    subjective side of, 143;\n    strength of, 147.\n  Cheerfulness, social, 211.\n  Children, government of, 45\u201355.\n  Childhood, 203\u2013216.\n  Child study, 33, 34.\n  Choice, content of, 167;\n    of subject-matter, 95.\n  Choosing, 167.\n  Chronology in history, 240.\n  Clandestine action, 315.\n  Classical _vs._ scientific education, 85.\n  Classification of interests, 83;\n    how to provide for, 135.\n  Clearness, 67.\n  Combats between teacher and pupils, 163.\n  Commands, sweeping, 48.\n  Committing to memory, 81.\n  Communion, 232.\n  Comparative study, 89.\n  Complication of ideas, 30.\n  Composition, true nature of, 123;\n    in Latin and Greek, 285.\n  Concealed offences, severity for, 316.\n  Concert work, 69.\n  Conduct, becoming, 137.\n  Conferences, teachers\u2019, 339.\n  Confirmation, 232.\n  Conjunctions, children\u2019s use of, 31.\n  Consequences, discipline of, 157.\n  Consistency of action, 174.\n  Contempt of moral judgment, 312.\n  Contention, why it pleases children, 183.\n  Continuity of education, 7.\n  Contrasts in pupils, 28.\n  Control, restlessness under, 305.\n  Conversation, 67.\n  Corporal punishment, 51.\n  Correlation of studies, 65;\n    limits of, 219.\n  Courage, 296.\n  Culture, Dogma of Formal, Hinsdale, 279.\n  Cynics, 83.\n  Cyrenaics, 83.\n\n\n  Dates, 247.\n  Delegated authority, 319.\n  Demonstrations, 256.\n  Depression and elevation, 156.\n  Desire and passion, 176;\n    bodily, 177;\n    gratification of, 155.\n  Determining influence of training, 167.\n  Dewey, Dr. John, 38, 63, 73, 150;\n    and McLellan, 253.\n  Differences, individual and sex, 219.\n  Discipline, social basis of, 55;\n    of consequence, 157.\n  Diffusion of thought, 35.\n  Disorder as index of failure, 55.\n  Disposition, cheerful, 137.\n  Divided attention, 63.\n  \u201cDogma of Formal Culture,\u201d Hinsdale, 279.\n  D\u00f6rpfeld, 70.\n  Drudgery _vs._ work, 63.\n  Duel, 13.\n  Dulness, 299.\n\n\n  Ease of government, 54.\n  Easy before the difficult, 127.\n  Eckoff, Wm. J., 254.\n  Educability of pupils, 1.\n  Education according to age, 195\u2013231;\n    first three years, 195\u2013202;\n    from four to eight, 203\u2013216;\n    boyhood, 217\u2013226;\n    youth, 227\u2013231.\n  Education as home task, 333.\n  Educational bookkeeping, 50.\n  Educative instruction, 59, 100;\n    value in fixing curriculum, 100.\n  Election, basis of, 65.\n  Electives, 89.\n  Elevation and depression, 156.\n  Employment, the foundation of government, 46;\n    for children, 56.\n  Endurance, 154.\n  English schools, effect on character of boys, 183.\n  Environment, influence of, 5, 55;\n    of pupils, 94.\n  Equilibrium of ideas, 75.\n  Equity, definition, 13.\n  Erratic mental movements, 302.\n  Estrangement and its removal, 66.\n  Ethical Basis of Pedagogics, 8\u201319.\n  Ethical judgment, 25.\n  Ethical life, range of, 292.\n  Ethics, the goal of education, 2.\n  Examination _vs._ review, 117.\n  Experience, limits of, 110.\n  Explication, 67.\n  Expulsion, 52.\n  Evil, exclusion of, 149.\n\n\n  Faculties, 20, 21, 22, 23;\n    names for, 27.\n  Family, its interest in the individual, 288;\n    its lack of vigor, 333.\n  Fatalism, 1, 3.\n  Fatigue, produced by instruction, 70.\n  Favoritism, 184.\n  Faults of children and their treatment, 294\u2013329;\n    general differentiation, 294\u2013303;\n    sources of moral weakness, 304\u2013313;\n    effects of training upon, 314\u2013319;\n    special faults, 320\u2013329;\n    habitual, 326;\n    minor, 321;\n    committed _vs._ faults possessed, 320.\n  Faust, 83.\n  First offences, treatment of, 323.\n  Fiske, method of using text-books of history, 247.\n  \u201cFive windows of the Soul,\u201d 37.\n  Fixation of ideas, premature, 218.\n  Formal Culture, Dogma of, Hinsdale, 279.\n  Formal steps, 67.\n  Frankness, lack of, 26;\n    need of, 322.\n  Freedom and restraint, 156.\n  Friendliness, with children, 211.\n\n\n  Games, the supervision of, 178;\n    co\u00f6perative, 178.\n  General notions, definition, 30.\n  Generalizations, 92.\n  Gentle measures, 43.\n  Geography, 263\u2013268;\n    home geography, 263;\n    an associating science, 264;\n    narration in, 265;\n    the old _vs._ the new, 266;\n    reviews in, 267.\n  Geographical aspects of history, 245.\n  Geographical _vs._ historical studies, 293.\n  Geometry, advantages of association, 102.\n  Good will, definition, 11;\n    in children, 206;\n    two aspects of, 185.\n  Golden rule, 148.\n  Goldsmith on the moody teacher, 166.\n  Government of children, 45\u201355.\n  Grading, 344\u2013345.\n  Grammar, amount to be given, 130.\n  Greek and Latin, 277\u2013285;\n    time for beginning, 277\u2013278;\n    manner of teaching, 279.\n  Greek and Roman history, priority of, 246;\n    _vs._ American history, 246.\n  Greek, authors to be used, 283;\n    relation of, to religious impressions, 233.\n  Groups of ideas, 29.\n  Gumplowicz, 5.\n  Gymnastic exercises, excessive, 132.\n\n\n  Harris, Dr. Wm. T., 37, 143.\n  Harmony of insight and volition, 9.\n  Heavenly bodies, observation of, 259.\n  Herbert Spencer, 85, 157.\n  Herodotus, stories of, 243.\n  Higher education, the comparative study of branches, 89.\n  Higher _vs._ lower schools, 340.\n  High school, six-year course in, 103.\n  Hinsdale, \u201cDogma of Formal Culture,\u201d 279.\n  History, 239\u2013251;\n    prevailing error of young teachers of, 239;\n    American _vs._ Greek and Roman, 241;\n    medi\u00e6val, 249;\n    modern, 250.\n  Historical instruction, a branch of education, 37.\n  Home education, 330\u2013337.\n  Home work, not a saving of labor, 123.\n  Homogeneity of pupils, 112.\n  Honor, standards of, 169;\n    a feeling of, 223.\n  _Humaniora_ _vs._ _realia_, 99.\n\n\n  Ideas, groups of, 29;\n    their source, 36;\n    equilibrium of, 75;\n    degree of strength, 102.\n  \u201cIliad\u201d and \u201cOdyssey,\u201d 283.\n  Imaginary and complex numbers, 256.\n  Imagination, 22.\n  Incapacity, feeling of, in children, 216.\n  Inclinations _vs._ principles, 193.\n  Individuality, modification of, 41;\n    differences of, 54.\n  Individual traits, permanency of, 295.\n  Indolence of youth, 227.\n  Inequalities, correction of, 60.\n  Infancy, 195\u2013202.\n  Inherent faults, 294.\n  Inner freedom, aspects of, 187.\n  Instability of ideas, 301.\n  Instruction, 56\u2013135;\n    relation to government and training, 56\u201361;\n    aim of, 62\u201365;\n    conditions of many-sidedness in, 66\u201370;\n    conditions determining interest in, 71\u201382;\n    as information giving, 35;\n    and rudeness, 35;\n    in relation to pupils\u2019 ideas and disposition, 36;\n    branches of, 36;\n    its good beginning, 105.\n  Insertion _vs._ continuation, 129.\n  Insight, definition, 8;\n    harmony of with volition, 9.\n  Intercourse, social, 78.\n  Interest, conditions of, 71\u201382;\n    main kinds of, 83\u201394;\n    many-sidedness of, 62;\n    direct and indirect, 63;\n    _vs._ effort, 63;\n    bearing of on virtue, 64;\n    classification of, 83;\n    not sole guide to selection of studies, 135;\n    compared with skill, 289.\n  Inventions, 251.\n  Irritability, 297.\n\n\n  James, quoted, 175.\n  Judgment, 23;\n    of moral quality of actions, 9;\n    ethical, 25.\n  Justice and equality with boys, 221.\n\n\n  Kant, 3;\n    his views on moral obedience, 173.\n\n\n  Lange\u2019s \u201cApperception,\u201d 74.\n  Language lessons _vs._ grammar, 271.\n  Languages, difficulties of, 129.\n  Larned, method of using text-books, 247.\n  Latin and Greek, 277\u2013285;\n    time for beginning, 103;\n    composition in, 285.\n  Latin, increase in study of, 278;\n    reasons for teaching, 279;\n    authors to be read, 282.\n  Letter writing, 276.\n  Listlessness, 158.\n  Literary masterpieces, study of, 76.\n  Logarithms, 254.\n  Love, 53.\n\n\n  Magnitudes in mathematics, 252.\n  Main kinds of interest, 83\u201394;\n    materials of, 95\u2013104;\n    process of, 105\u2013130;\n    plan of, 131\u2013135.\n  Manly games, effects of on boys, 183.\n  Manual training, 259;\n    effect of on discipline, 56.\n  Many-sidedness, 66\u201370;\n    of interest, 62.\n  Materials of instruction, 95\u2013104.\n  Mathematics, 252\u2013257;\n    linked to nature, 39;\n    correlation of, 39;\n    aptitude for, 252.\n  Mathematical teaching, order of, 255.\n  Maxims, origin of, 310.\n  McLellan and Dewey, 253.\n  McMurray, 74.\n  Measuring, 253.\n  Medi\u00e6val history, 249.\n  Memorizing, 81, 108.\n  Memory of will, 161.\n  Mental faculties, names for, 27.\n  Mental instability, 301.\n  Mephistopheles, 83.\n  Method, 67.\n  Mob spirit, the, 168.\n  Mobility of ideas, 35.\n  Modern history, 250.\n  Modern languages, arguments for their study, 98.\n  Modern methods of using text-books in history, 247.\n  Money, teaching the use of, 170.\n  Moodiness in the teacher, 166.\n  Moods and whims, 147.\n  Moral eccentricity, 307.\n  Moral freedom, possibility of, 173.\n  Moral education in strict sense, 188.\n  Moral judgment, contempt of, 312.\n  Moral revelation of the world, 167.\n  Morality, demand of upon youth, 231.\n  Mother-tongue, the, 269.\n  Motives of youth, 229.\n  Musical instruments, study of, 179.\n\n\n  Narration, art of, 76;\n    historical, 239\u2013243.\n  Natorp, 143.\n  Natural science, 258\u2013262.\n  Nature study, 258\u2013262;\n    apperceptive basis for, 258;\n    and history, 258.\n  Niemeyer, 112, 113.\n\n\n  Obedience, 48;\n    to authority, 173;\n    promptness of, 309.\n  Object lessons, how to teach, 114\u2013116.\n  Observation, of children, 33, 34;\n    exercises, 215;\n    which does not observe, 111.\n  Occupations, 47, 98;\n    self-chosen, 134.\n  \u201cOdyssey,\u201d 283.\n  Offences, concealed, 316.\n  One-sidedness, 86.\n  Order, restoration of, 324.\n  Organization of pupil\u2019s ideas, 31, 32;\n    of education, 330\u2013347.\n  Outlines of general pedagogics, 45\u2013231.\n  Outside occupations, 134.\n  Overburdening of pupils, 97, 226.\n\n\n  Pampering, 45.\n  Passions, 180, 181;\n    prevention of by training, 314;\n    what they lead to, 308.\n  Paulsen, 3, 73.\n  \u201cPedagogical Seminary,\u201d 178.\n  Pedagogics, ethical basis of, 8\u201319;\n    psychological basis of, 20\u201344;\n    outlines of general, 45\u2013231.\n  Perez, 195.\n  Perfection, idea of, definition, 10;\n    importance of, 17;\n    false idea of, 18;\n    in children, 207\u2013210.\n  _Perfice te_, 17.\n  Pestalozzi, 112, 114.\n  Physical activity, need of, 46.\n  Physical weakness, consideration for, 159.\n  Physics, elementary, 261.\n  Plan of instruction, 131\u2013135.\n  Play, love of, 295.\n  Playground, need for, 132.\n  Plasticity, limited, 4.\n  Pleasure and pain, sources of, 168.\n  Praise and censure, 189\u2013190.\n  Premature fixation of ideas, 218.\n  Preparation, 70.\n  Presentation, 70, 119.\n  Presentative instruction, its present function, 109.\n  Presentative method, meaning of, 106.\n  Preyer, 195.\n  Primacy of ideas, 73, 143;\n    of will, 73, 143.\n  Principles _vs._ inclinations, 193.\n  Private _vs._ public schools, 334.\n  Process of instruction, 105\u2013130.\n  Proficiency in knowledge a late acquirement, 127.\n  Prudence, 145.\n  Psychological basis of pedagogics, 8\u201319.\n  Psychology as instrument, 2.\n  \u201cPsychology of Number,\u201d 253.\n  Public opinion, respect for, 306.\n  Public _vs._ private schools, 334.\n  Punishment, 51\u201353.\n  Pupil\u2019s interest, how to measure and secure it, 101.\n\n\n  Quality _vs._ quantity, in securing interest, 101.\n  Questions, childish, 213;\n    character of, 342.\n  Quietude of mind, 176.\n\n\n  Rationality, growth of, 296.\n  Reading, 273\u2013275.\n  _Realia_, advantage of, 101.\n  Recitations, number per week, 133.\n  Records, of conduct, 50.\n  Recreations, 132.\n  Reflection and absorption, 66.\n  Reform, school, 103.\n  Regulative principles, establishment of, 173.\n  Regulative training, 172.\n  Religion, 232\u2013238.\n  Religious culture with boys, 222.\n  Religious feeling, beginnings of, 236.\n  Religious instruction, 94;\n    in England, Germany, and the United States, 181.\n  Religious training, need of, 19.\n  Reminders, 192.\n  Repetition, what it accomplishes, 118.\n  Reproduction, 109.\n  Rest and action, 156.\n  Restlessness, 297;\n    under control, 305.\n  Restraint, 55;\n    and freedom, 186.\n  Revelation of the world, moral, 167.\n  Reviews, conduct of, 117.\n  Rigidity of mind, 300.\n  Rosenkranz, 66.\n  \u201cRousing word,\u201d the, 175.\n  Rudeness _vs._ instruction, 35.\n  Russell, \u201cGerman Higher Schools,\u201d 279.\n\n\n  Savings banks, 170.\n  \u201cSchool and Society,\u201d Dr. John Dewey, 38.\n  School hygiene, literature of, 132.\n  Schoolrooms, need for spacious, 132.\n  Schools, organization of, 338\u2013347.\n  School system, 338.\n  Scientific instruction, a branch of education, 37.\n  Scientific _vs._ classical education, 85.\n  Seclusion _vs._ society, 168.\n  Secondary education in United States, its brevity, 103.\n  Self-activity, 71.\n  Self-defence, 183.\n  Self-determination, 26.\n  Sensibility, kindness of, 152.\n  Sensual impulses, 298.\n  Sequence, common view, 96;\n    of studies, 128.\n  Series of ideas, 121.\n  Severity for concealed offences, 316.\n  Simulation of ethical judgments, 317.\n  Sin, 338.\n  Six-year high school course, 103.\n  Skill _vs._ interest, 289.\n  Sluggishness of pupils, 165.\n  Smith, David Eugene, 255, 256.\n  Social cheerfulness, 211.\n  Social circle, relation of child to, 208.\n  Social ends of training, 160.\n  Social environment of pupils, 94.\n  Social faults, correction for, 327.\n  Social intercourse, 78.\n  Social pressure in government, 161.\n  Social relations the source of will, 318.\n  Social, the, in conduct, 62.\n  Society _vs._ seclusion, 168.\n  Source of ideas, 36.\n  Special applications of pedagogics, 232\u2013293;\n    religion, 232\u2013238;\n    history, 239\u2013251;\n    mathematics and natural science, 252\u2013262;\n    geography, 263\u2013268;\n    the mother-tongue, 269\u2013275.\n  Speer, 253.\n  Spencer, Herbert, 85, 157.\n  Spinoza, 3.\n  Spy, the teacher as, 317.\n  Standards of honor, 169.\n  State, its attitude toward the individual, 331.\n  Strife, 182.\n  Structure of groups of ideas, 31.\n  Studies, social function of, 62;\n    as social instruments, 64;\n    for boys, 225.\n  Study of literary masterpieces, 76.\n  Style of speaking, 108.\n  Subjects to be taught, 100.\n  Supervision, 48;\n    strictness of, 49, 50.\n  Sweetmeats, educational, 99.\n  Syntax, Latin, 284.\n  Synthetic instruction, definition, 106;\n    nature and course of, 125\u2013126.\n  System, 67;\n    promoted by connected discourse, 69;\n    of laws and rewards, 14;\n    of civilization, 16.\n\n\n  Tardiness, 161.\n  Teacher as spy, 317.\n  Teachers\u2019 conferences, 339.\n  Temperaments, 295.\n  Temper, violent, 298.\n  Tests by the state, 332.\n  Text-book methods, barrenness of, 243.\n  Text-book _vs._ oral presentation of history, 239.\n  Themes for composition, 124.\n  The mob spirit, 168.\n  The mother-tongue, 269\u2013276.\n  Thoughtlessness of pupils, 164.\n  Time, amount to be given to instruction, 132.\n  Training, 136\u2013194;\n    definition, 136, 141;\n    relation to government and instruction, 136\u2013140;\n    aim of, 141\u2013142;\n    differentiation of character, 143\u2013147;\n    differentiation in morality, 148\u2013150;\n    helps in, 151\u2013159;\n    general method, 160\u2013194;\n    blended with government, 140;\n    function of, 151.\n  Transfer of pupils, 52.\n  Translation, difficulty of, for German children, 103.\n  Trigonometry, 254.\n  Tutors, place of, 335.\n\n\n  Unification, 65, 66.\n  Use of things, how taught, 114.\n\n\n  Vendettas, 13.\n  Violin, value of use of, 179.\n  Virility in the school, 183.\n  Virtue, definition, 8, 62;\n    unevenness of development, 8;\n    its relation to interest, 64.\n  _Viva vox docet_, 107.\n  Volition, harmony with insight, 9;\n    of the moment, 311.\n\n\n  Wiget, 70.\n  Will, memory of, 161.\n  Women teachers and fighting pupils, 183.\n  Work _vs._ drudgery, 63.\n  Written exercises in the mother-tongue, 276.\n  Written work, tediousness of, 59;\n    correction of, 123.\n  Wundt, 74.\n\n\n\n\nLECTURES ON TEACHING\n\nDELIVERED IN THE UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE\n\n\nBy J. G. FITCH, M.A.\n\n  WITH AN INTRODUCTORY PREFACE BY\n  THOMAS HUNTER, Ph.D., President of the Normal College, New York\n\n16mo. Cloth. $1.00\n\n\u201cThis is eminently the work of a man of wisdom and experience. He\ntakes a broad and comprehensive view of the work of the teacher,\nand his suggestions on all topics are worthy of the most careful\nconsideration.\u201d--_New England Journal of Education_.\n\n\u201cThe lectures will be found most interesting, and deserve to be\ncarefully studied, not only by persons directly concerned with\ninstruction, but by parents who wish to be able to exercise an\nintelligent judgment in the choice of schools and teachers for their\nchildren. For ourselves, we could almost wish to be of school age\nagain, to learn history and geography from some one who could teach\nthem after the pattern set by Mr. Fitch to his audience. But perhaps\nMr. Fitch\u2019s observations on the general conditions of school work\nare even more important than what he says on this or that branch of\nstudy.\u201d--_Saturday Review_.\n\n\n\n\nNOTES ON AMERICAN SCHOOLS AND TRAINING COLLEGES\n\n\nBY THE SAME AUTHOR\n\n16mo. Cloth. 60 cents\n\n\u201cMr. Fitch is a wise and enthusiastic student of pedagogy, the author\nof some specially excellent Lectures on Teaching delivered in the\nUniversity of Cambridge, and a rarely good observer of new facts....\nThe book is a treasure of clever description, shrewd comment, and\ninstructive comparison of the English system and our own.\u201d--_The\nChurchman_.\n\n\n  THE MACMILLAN COMPANY\n  66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK\n\n\n\n\nRECENT BOOKS ON EDUCATION\n\n\nThe Meaning of Education\n\n  =And Other Essays and Addresses=. By =Nicholas Murray Butler=,\n  Columbia University.                               Cloth. 12mo. $1.00.\n\n\nSocial Phases of Education in the School and the Home\n\n  By =Samuel T. Dutton=, Superintendent of Schools, Brookline, Mass.\n                                                     Cloth. 12mo. $1.25.\n\n\nEducation of the Central Nervous System\n\n  =A Study of Foundations, especially of Sensory and Motor Training=.\n  By =Reuben Post Halleck=, Author of \u201cPsychology and Psychic Culture.\u201d\n                                                     12mo. Cloth. $1.00.\n\n\u201cHe has succeeded admirably in presenting the subject in a simple,\nclear, logical way. It is just the book, it seems to me, for the\nreading of all persons interested in \u2018Child Study.\u2019\u201d--=Francis W.\nParker=, Chicago Normal School.\n\n\nEducational Aims and Educational Values\n\n  By =Paul H. Hanus=, of Harvard University.         Cloth. 12mo. $1.25.\n\n\u201cA very readable book.... His insight into educational problems\nis good, his experience wide, and his power of expression\nadmirable.\u201d--=Myron T. S. Scudder= in _The Educational Review_.\n\n\nThe Development of the Child\n\n  By =Nathan Oppenheim=, M.D., Attending Physician to the Children\u2019s\n  Department, Mt. Sinai Hospital Dispensary.               Cloth. $1.25.\n\n\u201cInteresting and suggestive.\u201d--_The Tribune_, New York.\n\n\nThe Physical Nature of the Child and How to Study It\n\n  By =Stuart H. Rowe=, Ph.D., New Haven, formerly Professor of Pedagogy\n  and Director of Practice in the State Normal School, Mankato, Minn.\n                                                     Cloth. 12mo. $1.00.\n\n\u201cThe average school-teacher could read no better work on school\nhygiene.\u201d--=C. H. Thurber= in _The School Review_.\n\n\nThe Teaching and Study of Elementary Mathematics\n\n  By =David Eugene Smith=, Ph.D., Principal of the State Normal School\n  at Brockport, New York.                            Cloth. 12mo. $1.00.\n\nThe first issue in a series to be known as The Teacher\u2019s Professional\nLibrary, edited by Nicholas Murray Butler, Professor of Philosophy and\nEducation in Columbia University.\n\n\nThe Study of Children and Their School Training\n\n  By =Dr. Francis Warner=, Author of \u201cThe Growth and Means for Training\n  of the Mental Faculty.\u201d                            Cloth. 16mo. $1.00.\n\n\nThe Nervous System of the Child\n\n  =Its Growth and Health in Education=. A handbook for teachers. By the\n  same author.\n\n\n  THE MACMILLAN COMPANY\n  66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK\n\n\n\n\nRecent Books on Philosophy, Etc.\n\n\nThe Making of Character\n\n  Some Educational Aspects of Ethics. By =John MacCunn=, of University\n  College, Liverpool. _Cambridge Series_.           Cloth. 12mo. $1.25.\n\nThe subject is divided into four general parts: Congenital Endowment,\nEducative Influences, Sound Judgment, and Self-development and\nSelf-control. Each of these parts contains several chapters dealing\nwith the various phases of character-building and its influence upon\neducation. Teachers will find much that is new and stimulating in these\npages.\n\n\nThe World and the Individual\n\n  Gifford Lectures delivered before the University of Aberdeen. First\n  Series. The Four Historical Conceptions of Being. By =Josiah Royce=,\n  Ph.D., of Harvard University.                       Cloth. 8vo. $3.00.\n\n\nA Brief Introduction to Modern Philosophy\n\n  By =Arthur Kenyon Rogers=, Ph.D.                   Cloth. 12mo. $1.25.\n\n\nMethods of Knowledge\n\n  An Essay in Epistemology. By =Walter Smith=, of Lake Forest\n  University.                                        Cloth. 12mo. $1.25.\n\nA definition of knowledge and theory of the method by which knowledge\nmay be attained.\n\n\nAn Outline of Philosophy\n\n  With Notes Historical and Critical. By =John Watson=, of Queen\u2019s\n  University, Kingston, Canada. Second Edition.       Cloth. 8vo. $2.25.\n\n\n  THE MACMILLAN COMPANY\n  66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK\n\n\n\n\n[Transcriber\u2019s Notes:\n\n  Descriptions of the illustrations were added by the transcriber.\n  All punctuation errors were corrected.\n  Inconsistent hyphenation was retained.\n  In Contents, the following changes were done to match chapter titles\n    in the text:\n      \u201cof\u201d after \u201cConditions\u201d was deleted (The Conditions Determining\n        Interest).\n      \u201cMaterial\u201d was changed from \u201cMaterials\u201d (The Material of\n        Instruction).\n      \u201cThe\u201d was inserted before \u201cRelation\u201d (The Relation of Training).\n  In paragraph 36, \u201cone-sidedness\u201d was changed from \u201cone-sideness\u201d\n    (one-sidedness of instruction).\n  In paragraph 38, \u201ccounteracting\u201d was changed from \u201ccounter: acting\u201d\n    (counteracting selfishness).\n  In paragraph 70, alternate spelling of annotator\u2019s surname as\n    \u201cDeGarmo\u201d was retained.\n  In the Index,\n    \u201cas\u201d was changed from \u201can\u201d (Disorder as index of failure).\n    \u201cHumaniora\u201d was changed from \u201cHumanoria\u201d (_Humaniora_ _vs._\n      _realia_).]","title":"Outlines of Educational Doctrine","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":80304}