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APPLIED PSYCHOLOGY.

AN INTRODUCTION

TO THR

PRINCIPLES AND PRACTICE
OF EDUCATION.

• BT

J. A. McLELLAN, M.A., LL.D.

Director of Normal Schools, for Ontario.

Author of " Mental Arithmetic,'' " Elements of Algebra,'' etc.

jMtU Author of •* Algebraic Analysis,*

Learn to Bo by Knowing and to Know by Doing.

THE COPP, CLARK COMPANY, LIMITED,

L e 105 I
Mar 3

EnUrtd aeeording to Act of th* Parliament of Canada, in the year one tko'isand
eight hundred amd eigMy-nine, by Thi Copf, Clark CoMPArr, (LiiiinD), TotmOo,
Ontario, m th0 ofiee of the Minister •/ AgriertUure.

PBEFACB

This volume has been prepared at the request of many
teachers and Inspectors that I should pubhsh some of my lec-
tures on the Psychology, Principles and Practice of Education,
which have been given from time to time before Teachers' Asso-
ciations. It was urged that though there are many excellent
books on general Psychology, there is still room for one which
more directly meets the needs of the teacher. Some of these
works are too abstract and deal with philosophical questions that
very remotely concern the science of education ; others are
too superficial, i.e.j in their attempts to make psychology easy>
they have made it worthless for the educator as well as for the
student of philosophy. Most writers on psychology declare that
a knowledge of that subject is indispensable in the training of
the teacher ; but it must be confessed that the ordinary teacher,
even after reading psychologies that claim to be specially pre-
pared for teachers, fails to see the direct bearing of the sub-
ject on the work of instruction.

What is wanted, say the teachers who have the worth of
psychology so often dinned in their ears, is a more practical
work, that is, one that will show explicitly the relation of psy-
chology to education, and give the teacher a clearer and more
thorough knov/ledge of the principles which underlie true
methods of instruction. It would be too much to expect that

PREFACE.

this volume will fiilly meet these requirements ; but it is hoped
that teachers will find in it some justification of the opinion now
generally/ icld by educationists, and tersely expressed by Herbert
Spencer, that " with complete knowledge of the subject which
a teacb *r has to teach, a co-essential thing is a knowledge of
psych ilogy ; and especially of that part of psychology which
deal/ with the evolution of the faculties."
/attention may be called to certain features of the book :
/. The general mode of treatment in the part on mental
9* ience is that of Professor Dewey, whose work on Psychology
' las been so well received by students of philosophy. In pre-
paring an analysis of lectures on Educational Psychology, I
consulted the lamented Professor Young, who, while favouring
me with his own ideas on the subject, specially recommended
Dewey's " Psychology." On the basis of that work, accordingly,
lectures were prepared and delivered before Teachers' Associa-
tions ; perhaps it is not too much to say that the deep interest
these lectures have awakened among teachers is a fair test of
the practical worth of the method.

2. The book is not a series of baby-talks on mind. The
psychology which requires no thinking is worthless for both
teacher and student. If " education is the hardest and most
difficult problem ever proposed to man," its science cannot be
mastered without thought. But while the book has not ignored
scientific method — and so may not be useless as an introduction
to more advanced work — the subject, it is hoped, has been sr /
plainly illustrated that it will prove interesting and intelligib ie
to the general reader and certainly to any student of comnv m
industry and ability.

PREFACE.

▼a

3. As intimated, an attempt has been made to make the book

of practical value to teachers. Besides the deduction of educa-
tional principles from each important topic as discussed, there
is a summary chapter which gives a clear and concise view of the
Basis, Aims and Methods of Instruction, as grounded on psy-
chology.

4. It is believed that the chapters on the Method of Interro-
gation will show still more clearly the relation of psychology to
educational method, and prove helpful to the teacher who
»vishes to acquire skill in the art of questioning, the ars artium
of his calling.

5. The chapter on Kindergarten Work and Self-Instruction
in Public Schools, abounds, it is thought, in hints and sugges-
tions which will be found of real value in the practical work of
the school-room. The plans and work recommended have stood
the test of experience ; if faithfully carried out they will lighten
the labour of both teachers and pupils, ai;d greatly increase
<he efficiency of the public schools.

6. The outline methods on some important branches —
based on explicit psychological principles — will, perhaps, prove
more serviceable to the teacher than a whole volume of empir-
ical " ways and devices."

7. The full analytical table of contents will help the student
to such a mastery of educational principles as Established in
this volume that he will be fairly able to test independently any
of the innumerable methods which are urged upon his attention
by distinguished inventors.

To Professor Dewey, whose book on Psychology, — already
mentioned — should be read by every student of the subject,

vifi

I>RErACE.

I must express my obligations for most valuable assistance in

the preparation of this work.

For the practical part of the chapter on Kindergarten work
and on geography, my thanks are due to Mr. J. Suddaby,
who is regarded as one of our most progressive teachers, and
whose work — which I have often inspected — has placed the
Berlin Model School in the front rank of training schools.

For nearly forty years the Professional training of teachers
has been — perhaps from the force of circumstances — largely em-
pirical and imitative ; the essence of this method of training
may be expressed by the single formula, " Observe and Imitate."
This has made teaching a mere " trade," and, as Mr. Fitch says,
" teaching is the sorriest of all trades though the noblest of a\)
professions." But it has been, and is, plainly the policy of the
Hon. G. W. Ross to •* change all that," to insist on a knowledge
of the laws, principles and results of mental evolution as a
necessary part of a teacher's preparation, to make professional
training something worthy of the name by placing it on a
rational, />., a psychological basis, and, in a word, to substitute
for a ** sorry trade " the noblest of professions. I sincerely
hope that this book will help, in some degree, to give effect to
that wise and far-seeing policy.

Toronto, March, 1889.

work

aby,

and

the

CONTENTS.

— •—

CHAPTER I.

Psychology and its Relations to the Teacher.
L— The Educational Importance of Psychology.

1. It is the Science of Mind to be Educated i

(Formal Definition and Discussion of Methods) 2

2. It Reveals the Processes upon which Educational Methods

must be Based 2

a. Definition of Method.

b. Source of Value of Methods.
*. True and False Methods.

n.— The Educational Limitations of Psychology.

I. As a Science it is Generic, while Teaching Deals with Indi«

viduals 4

3. It is Theoretic, while Teaching is Practical 5

m.— The Treatment of Psychology Adopted 5

A. Discussion of Raw Material or Basis.

B. Of Processes.

C. Of Products.

CHAPTER H.
The Bases of Psychical Life (A),

These Bases are Three — Sensation, Interest and Impulse 6

L— Sensation.

I. Definition — Contains Three Factors. 6

a. As an element in Knowledge it is t

a. Immediate 7

4. Presentative 7

|!i

CONTENTS.

3. Characteristics t

Quality, Intensity, Tone, Extensity. Definitions of each... 8

4. Conditions :

0. Physical Condition — Motion 9

(1.) Dependence of Intensity upon Amplitude of Motion

Illustrated 9

(ii.) Dependence of Quality upon Velocity Illustrated by

Sound and Color 9

(Hi.) Depemlcnce of Quality upon Kinds of Vibration,

Illustrated by Tiinl)re of Sound and Shades of Color 10

A, Physiolojjical Condition Involves Nerve Organ, Conduct-
ing Nerve and Brain lO

(i) The kind of Nerve Organ Receiving Stimulus b
Basis of Division of Sensations into General and
Specific II

(«,) General Sensations have Tone predominating ; are
vague ; report condition of cf ;anism ; are first to
appear.

(«V.) Specific Sensations ha e Quality predominating;
are definite ; report objects outside organism j ap-
pear later in life II

e. Psychical Condition is Consciousness.

(1) Consciousness Cannot be Derived from Motion.... 12
{it) Motion may be Stimulus to Consciousness , , 12

5. The Senses of Greatest Educati(jnal Importance :

a. Touch 13

{i.) Other Senses Differentiated from it.

(ii.) Used to Test Reports of other Senses.

{Hi.) Most Closely Connected with Muscular Activity.
t. Hearing, and Sight the Senses of Highest Development. 13-14

(/.) They Make the Finest Discriminations.

(ii.) Sight is the Space Sense.

(«V.) Hearing is the Time Sense.
c. Different Sensory Types, Motor, Visual, and Auditory.. 14

6. Educational Principles : 15

a. Necessity of Basing Knowledge of External Objects in

Sensation.
i. Since Sensation is only a Basis, Psychical Processes must

Act upon it

f. Instruction Should be Adapted to Sensory Conditions.

l''

GONTKNTS. ll

II.— Interest.

I. Meaning; of Interest •.*..•• l6

3. Distinctions of Interest from Information 17

a. It is Emotional.

b. Subjective.

e. Individual. ^i ^ ' / -Hn — 7 — ^

3. Importance of Interest . pi, ,,,, tiii .^. iA . ;. ^^^tMfmiM^

4. Educational Principle 18

Education must be Based on Interest ''

in.— Impulse.

I. Definition of Impulse 19

3. Importance of Impulse 19

3. Impulse and Instinct 20

4. Impulses Classified

a. Impulses of Sensation 20

b» Impulses of Perception 21

e. Imitative Impulses 21

d. Impulses to Expression 21

Gesture Language — Speech

5. Educational Principles.

a. Training the Senses means Training Impulses 22

b» Instruction should Seize Instincts at the Height of their

Development 22

(, Instruction should make use of the various Classes of Im-
pulses 23 — 24

CHAPTER III.
The Psychical Processes (B),

Introduction.

I. -Olassification of Oontents of our Minds
Simultaneous Groups.
Successive Uncontrolled Trains.
Successive Controlled Trains.

Xll

CONTENTS.

II.— Glassiflcation of Processes Corresponding to these

Contents •

Non* Voluntary Attentioo.
Association.
Voluntary Attention.

The Processes.
I. Non-Voluntary Attention.

I. Definition , «.« ..,,

a. Conditions of Non- Voluntary Attention t

a. Natural Interest 26

(1.) Quantity 27

' («.) Tone 27

i. Acquired Interest 27

(i.) Familiarity 27

(iV. ) Novelty 28

(/■«.) Familiarity and Novelty in Connection 28

3. Effects of Non- Voluntary Attention :

a. Negative EfTect — Exclusion from Consciousness 29

b. Positive EfTects :

(1.) Bringing Differences to Consciousness 30

(ii.) Uniting Elements in One Presentation 30

(1) May Unite any Number of Elements 30

(2) May Unite Elements Unconnected in themselves 31

4. Educational Principles:

a. Must be some Activity of Attention 33

b. Teacher must not only Present Material, but must Induce

this Activity 33

c. It must be Induced Ind'rectly by Arousing Interest 34

d. Interest Accompanies all Mental Activity 34

e. Also the Exercise of Play-Impulse 35

/. Also Dependent upon Relations of Novelty and Familiarity 35

g. Suggestions as to Cultivating Non- Voluntary Attention.. 36

H. Association.

1. Definition 37

2. Conditions — Original Union ; Integration and Redin'egration. 38

3. Varieties of Association :

«. Contiguity — External 33

(1.) Spatial.
\n.) Temporal.

CONTENTS. nU

k Similarity— Intenud 59

Includes Contiast. 40

4. Results ; —

«. Mental Order. 40

i. Mental Freedom 41

Similarity Superior in these respects to Contiguity 41

t. Formation of Habits :

(1.) Definition of Habit 41

{ii.) Active and Passive Habits. 42

(ui.) Functions of Habit :

(i) Give Self-Control in some Directions 43

(2) Frees Intelligence and Will from Supervision of

Details. 43

$. Educational Principles 44

Based on stages of Intellectual Growth, of which there are Three
a. Is " Mechanical " Stage :

(1.) Association of Activities rather than of Ideas 44

{it.) Based on Repetition 45

(mi.) Has Discipline (which is not Mechanical for its

object) 45

Meaning of Discipline 46

{w.) Relation of Knowing to Doing, in Mechanical

Stage 46

A. Is Stage of Forming Connections

(<.) May be between Sense Impressions 47

(iV. ) Or between Ideas 47

{/it.) Sensuous Associations Should be Subordinate.... 48
{iv.) Hence, Principle of Teaching only what has Mean-
ing 49

(«.) Importance of Habit in Education 49

c. Is Stage of Culture 49

Based especially on Association by Similarity 50

iH Voluntary Attention,

Introduction 50 — 53

1. Relation to Non- Voluntary Attention 50

2. Relation to Association 51

3. Early Forms 52

4. Later and More Complex Forms 52

Activities Involved in Attention 53

ill

t )

111

i .

fii

• 1 \

\ r

XIV CONTENTS.

1. Adjtisting Actirity :

(i.) Mind more Interested ia om Direction than in

Others 53

(tl.) Hence, Stretches oat to what will Satisfy this

Interest 54

(Hi. ) And fixes Certain Groups of Ideas upon Presenta-
tion 54

(iv.) This is Dependent upon Past Experience. 55

2. Selecting Activity :

(».) Selects what Meets its Interests 55

(it) Basis of Selection is According to Kind of Interest .. 56

(tit.) Variable and Permanent Interests 56

(iv.) Law of Permanent Interest 56

3. Relating Activity:

(i.) Mind Seizes Relations not Presented 57

(iL) Especially Relations of Unity and Difference 58

{JM.) This is Act of Comparison 58

(it>. ) Meaning of Unification 58

(v. ) Meaning of Discrimination 59

(vi.) Goal of Attention 59

m.— Educational Principles.

1. Need of Activity to Prevent Mind Wandering 60

2. Need of Permanence or Continuity of Interest 60

3. Need of Store of Ideas in Mind akin tc Object of Attention. . . 61

4. Need of Arousing this Store of Ideas . . , , . . . 61

5. Failures in real Attention when these Conditions are not met . . 62

6. Need that the Mind move along Related Points 63 ■

When the Mind Notices or discovers Relations, it is paying /

Attention (h

7. Suggestions as to Ways of gaining Attention >^ £4

IV.— Apperception and Retention.

The Psychical Processes affect Mind and affect Material Known. ... 65

Illustration of Apperception 66

Illustration of Retention 66

Mutual Relations 67

I. Retention:

a. Nature 67

k. Forms Mental Power 68

e. Forms Dynamical Associations or Tend^.icies 68

CONTENTS. XV

ti Apperceptioo :

a. Nature 69

i. Basis of Growth of Knowledge 69

3. Educational Principles :

a. End of Education is Mental Development — Retention .... 70

i. But this occurs through Development of Knowledge — Ap-
perception 70

€. Learning Uepends upon Proper Presentation of Material

and upon Proper Preparation of Mind 71

d. Apperception and Retention form Mental Function, Habit

and Character. . 71

> ■• :

CHAPTER IV.

Forms of Intellectual Development,

(First Division of C or Mental Products.)

% 1.— Principles of Intellectual Development.

I.— Development of Intelligence is from the Presentative to

the Representative 74

II.— And ftom the Sensuous to the Ideal 74

I. Idealizing Activity 75

a. Educational Principles :

a. Necessity of Interpretation 76

b. Necessity of Assimilation 76

'II.— And from the Vague and Particular to the Definite

and Universal 77

I. Meaning of Particular and General 78

a. The Definite and Universal Constituted by Relations 79

|. Educational Principles :

a. Necessity of Defining Knowledge 80

(i.) Distinction of Definite Object and Definite Know-

ledge 80

(it.) Defmite Knowledge must come after Indefinite ;

Details after Outlines 81

(M. ) Mind's Analytic Power Defines Knowledge. Sot

CONTENTS.

A. Necessity of Connecting Knowledge. ••••• 83

Mind's Synthetic Power Connects. .... 83

«. Necessity of both Universal and Particular Factor. Re>

lated Facts 83

d. Necessity of Treating Intellectual Faculties as Successive

Developments of Same Principle • 84

These Successive Developments are :

(i.) Perception which is :

( 1 ) Both Presentative and Representative 85

(2) Sensuous and Ideal and 85

(3) Related 85

(iC) Memory which is s

(i) More Representative than Peception 86

(2) More Ideal and 86

(3) Expresses more Relations 86

{Hi.) Imagination which is :

(1) Based upon Memory 87

(2) But is more Representative and Ideal 88

(3) And Involves Wider Relations , 88

(w.) Thinking which is:

(i) Most Representative or Symbolic of all Stages. . 89

(2) Most Ideal and 89

(3) Expresses Most Relations 90

Hence, the Educational Principle is to Develop
all by Same Methods 90

I 2.~Stage8 of Intellectual Development— -Training of

Perception.

I.— Oonsidered in Itself 91

1. Should be Accurate and Full 91

2. Should be Independent 92

3. Should Form Habit of Observation r.... 9a

II.— Oonsidered in Relation to other Stages.

I. Must be made Basis of Representative Knowledge 93

«. Hence requires large Store of Perceptions prior to In>

struction in wholly Representative Ideas 94

A. That all Representative Ideas be Illustrated by Percep*

»4

CONTENTS. IV11

t. Otherwise What is Learned is t

(t) Meaningless 94

(n) Uninteresting 94

{Hi) Productive of Mind Wandering 95

§ 3.— Stages of Iiiteilectual Dovelopment, continued-
Training of the Memory. Contains two Factors :

I. -Learning 95

General Principle : Train Memory by the Methods in which Studies

are Appropriated 95

This Principle may be applied i

I. To Memorizing bare Separate Facts 96

a. To Memorizing Consecutive Statements of Facts 96

«. Evils of Memorizing by Sheer Force of Repetition are :

(t) It Employs only Sensuous Association 97

{it.) It Leaves the Mind Passive. . . , • 97

{Hi.) It Burdens the Mind 97

(tv. ) It Leads to Mind Wandering 97

A, Proper Methods of Memorizing rely t

(«.) Upon AssocUtion of Ideas 98

(ii.) Upon Analysis and Synthesis 98

3. To Memorizing Relations of Complex Ideas 99

II. Becollecting— Depends upon

I. Repetition loo

Reviews.
a. Attention to Connected Ideas loo

9 4.— Stages of Intellectnal Development, continaed—
Training of Imagination.

I.— Necessity of Indirect Training

1. Because of its Free Character .., loi

2. Because of its Individual Character 102

3. Because of its Unconscious Growth 102

n.— This Indirect Training is Brought Abodt—

I. Through Cultivation of Expression of Imagination 102

a. Through Cultivation of the Feelings that Stimulate Imagination:

a. Due partly to Influence of Teacher 103

k Partly to Development of Religious Emotions. 103

..A

•■M

XVIU CONTENTS.

3. Through Providing Material to be Worked Upon :

a. Natural Scenes 104

^. Studies like Geography and History 104

c. Study of Literature 104

§ 5.— Stages of Intellectual Development— continued-
Training- of Thought.

I.— Indirect Training Brought About by Training other
Lower Stages.

Illustrated by :

1. Generalization involved in Perception 105

2. Relations involved in all Knowledge 106

3. The Grouping of Facts brought about by Retention ........ 107

n.— Direct Training.

1. Given by Language 107

a. Words are Products of Thought . , . 108

6. Stnicture of Sentences a Product of Thought 108

c. Connected Discourse a Product of Thouglit 109

2. Given by Science 109

a. Physical 109

A, Mathematical 109

I -

CHAPTER V.

TJte Forms of Emotional Development.

(Second Division of C or Mental Products.)

I.— Conditions of Interest.

Feeling Accompanies Activity I ro

1. Spontaneity of Activity no

2. Strength of Activity in

3. Change of Activity in

Monotony and Variety.

4. Harmony of Activities , 112

n.— Principles of Emotional Growth.

In General the same as Intellectual 113

CONTENTS.

XIX

1. Widening of Feeling :

a. Through Transference 1 13

b. Through Unconscious Sympathy 113

c. Througli Conscious vSympathy 1 14

2. Deepening of Feeling :

a. Through Repetition 114

I). Through Cooperation I14

III.— The rorms, or Stages, of Emotional Growth.

1. Inlelleclual

a. Leading to the Acquiring of Knowledge :

{i. ) Wonder 1 15

(//. ) Curiosity 1 16

b. Resulting from Acquisition of Knowledge, Feeling of

Freedom, or of Self-Command 116

2. Aesthetic I17

a. Factors of Beautiful Object : •

(/.) Adaptation I17

(it. ) Economy 1 18

(m. ) Harmony 1 18

{iv.) Freedom , ,,,. 118

b. Factors of Aesthetic Feeling :

Universality and Ideality II9

3. Personal 1 19

a. Social. ■ _

{i. ) Regard for Self 119

(it, ) Regard for ( )thers 120

Antipathy I20

Sympathy 120

(1) Origin of Sympathy 120

(2) Development of Sympathy 121

b. Moral.

(t.) Contents :

Rightness, Obligation, Approbation 121

(//. ) Origin 122

(Hi.) Result is the Formation of Moral Groups 01 Com-
munities 122

The School :

(1) Is Continuation of Family 123

(2) Is Preparation for vState 123

i \\

CONTKNlli

(Iv.) Training:

(I) Should be Concrete 193

(3) Punishment should aim at Development of Moral

Feelings 124

(3) Should be Based on Personal Affections 114

e. Religious :

(».) Dependence 134

(ti.) Peace 124

(<tf.) Faith 135

^ [

lifli

j !

CHAPTER VI.
. Forms of Volitional Development,

(Third Division of C or Psychical Products.)

Introduction. — Analysis of Volitional Act 125 — 137

Volitional Act is Intelligent 125

Volitional Act is Controlled 126

The Reason is that it has an End 126

Definition — Volition-Impulses Controlled by Conception of an End 127

I.— Factors of Volitional Development

I. Formation of Idea of End . . 127

a. Beginning of Idea 127

b. Completion of Idea 128

«. Subjection of Impulses to Idea, or Training of Impulses. . 129

(».) Impulses Trained through Development of Intellect 129

(<l.) Training of Impulses reacts upon Intellect 129

(ut.) Knowing and Doing are, therefore, Correlative.. . . 129
(fv.) When Trained Correlatively, Education is Render-
ed Practical 130

(v.) Education must rest upon Natural Impulses. 131

(vi.) And consists in Disciplining them 132

(vu.) Partly by External Arrangements. 133

(viii.) Partly by Internal Arrangements.

(Mb) And has its end in Self*Conti«I or Freedom 133

OOMTBNTl.

XZl

Formation of Desire 134

(Desire is Emotional, corresponding to Intellectual Idea.)

a. Origin of Desires 134

t. Object of Desires 135

t. Training of Desirei :

(i.) Desires Trained through Development of Feeling. . 135

(ti.) By Satisfying or Thwarting them 136

(•ii.) Awakening Idea of Possibilities 136

(•«.) Through Cultivation of Imagination 137

Imagination Widens and Strengthens . . 137

Realization of Desired Idea 138

a. Simple Case— End Suggests its Means by Association.. . . 138

t. Complex Cases — Conflict of various Desired Ends. 138

Conflict Settled by ;
(t.) Deliberation . .

(«.) Effort

{Hi.) Choice

4. Realization of Desired Ends forms Character or Self'Control.

a. Character is the Volitional Aspect of Retention

i. Choice is the Volitional Aspect of Apperception

e. Hence Character and Choice are Reciprocal

ti. Training of Character :

(i.) Through Habitual Action.

(ti.) Through Influence of Educator upon Habits.

(Hi. ) Through Self- Reliance

(it>.) Through Recognition of Law. .

(v.) Through Conception of Ideal Self

138
139
140

140
140
140
140

141

142
142

143
144

IL -Stages of Volitional Development or of Self-Oontrol. . 144

f . Physical :

a. Relation to Moral. 145

t. Its Process :

(i.) Differentiation of Impulses 146

(it.) Interconnection of Impulses 146

c. Its Results 146

(t. ) Idea of Act more Extended and Definite 146

(w.) Abilities and Tendencies are Created 146

(tM. ) Amount of Required Stimulus is Lessened 147

, it

xxii

CONTENTS.

I I'm

'1 ■

2. Prudential Control :

a. Definition 147

b. Results.

(«.) Action is more Delil)eiate 148

{it.) More Unified 148

(tit.) More Determined and Persevering; 148

{iv.) More Intense or Energetic 149

3. Moral Control :

a. Definition 149

b. liased on Physical and Prudential Acts 150

C. Which become Moral when Subordinated to Motives of

Right 150

(?*.) Hence, Moral Action is Constituted by Motive . . . 151

(«. ) Hence, Involves Responsibility 151

(liV. ) Hence, Forms Character, as Physical and I'ruden-

tial Acts do not 152

{iv.) Hence, in reacting', Develops Sen-e of ObliL;aii()n 152

Growth of this Sense 152

d. Moral Action is Secured :

(/. ) By Habitual Action 153

(«. ) By Use of Lower Motives 153

(Hi.) By Appeal to Personal Affections 154

t. Results of Moral Control :

(i. ) Generic Choice 154

(/;. ) Automatic fJecision 1 54

{Hi. ) Regulation of Desires 1 54

{iv. ) Effective Execution 155

'■I

CHAPTER VII.

Mind and Body.

I.— Importance of Body for Soul 155

1. Seen in Sense-Organs 156

2. In Muscular System 156

3. In Brain . . . , 157

OONTENT& ZXill

n-Strncttire of Nervous System in Man 15S

Analysis of Nervous Changes Involved in a Perception . 15S

m. Elementary Properties of Nerve Structures 15^

1. Irritablity or Excitability 158

2. Conductibility 158

3. Summation , 159

4. Inhibition 159

5. Plasticity 159

1' acilitation, Accommodation.

rV" —Psychological Equivalents.

1. Of Excitability is Sensation, etc ...•••••..... 160

2. Of Inhibition is Control, Intellectual and Volitional 160

3. Of Plasticity is Habit &c. 160

v.— Localization of Function'

Principles A re • ••••*. lOi

1. Original Indifference.

2. Localization Resulting from Use 161

3. Mechanical Functions the best Localized 161

4. Sensory and Motor Organs have Vague Centres 161

5. Intellectual Powers have no Definite Centres 162

6. Ideas are not Localized at all l6a

VI.— Educational Principles.

I. Necessity of Care of Body in all Education 162

a. Physical Basis of Organization of Faculty . 163

3. No Separate Training of Faculties 163

4. ImporUnce of Establishing Mental Relations 163

CHAPTER VIII.

Summary of Principles,
I.— Bases of Instruction.

I. Activity of Pupil • , •••••. 163

a. Interest of Pupil 164

3. Ucft ia PupU's Mind 164

/ii;

; i

i ;

1 \

XXiV CONTENTl.

tl.— Ends of Instrnction.

1. That Instruction be Significant 164

m. As to each Subject 164

t. As to Statements within each Subject 164

2. That Instruction be Definite 165

3. That Instruction be Practical 165

This is secured :

a. Wiien right Habits are Formed 166

t. When New Faculties are Organised 166

4, When Fundamental Psychical Powers and Processes are

Developed 166

m— Methods of Instruction 167

1. Teach one Thing at a Time 167

n. What Makes a Proper Method, with Illustration 167

t. This Gives the Analytic Method 168

c. Advantages of Analytic Method :

(i.) Fconomizes Mental Energy 168

(ii,) Defines Mental Products 169

{in. ) Excludes Ii relevant Material 169

{iv.) Prepares the Way for Memory 169

(v.) Forms the Analytic Habit 169

a. Teach in a Connected Manner, or Synthetically 170

This Demands of the Teacher :

a. Unity of Aim 170

t. System 170

c. Graded Instruction 170

Upon the Side of the Pupil it Demands :

«. That Knowledge Begin with Presentation 170

In Training Perception all Mental Powers should be
Trained :

(t.) Illustrations 171

{ii.) Two Factors in Perception 171

(1) Recognition 172

(2) Discovery 172

OONTINTS.

ZXV

164

•••. 164

'6s

«6S

•*.. 166

166

• . ■ . 166

•... 167

. . . . 167

... 167

... 168

. .. 169

• . . 169

' . 169

.. 169

I. That Groapi or Centre* of Ideas be Foniied 173

((.) Economy of this Method 17a

(Urn) Ways of Securing this Groaping 173

t. That these Groups be Exercised ia all Acquisition d

Knowledge 173

This Principle Requires 1

(<.) Frequent Reviews 174

(«.) Mental Preparation 174

{Ui,) Constant Exercise of Past Knowledge 174

ry.-Belation of Knowledge, Feeling and Will 177

1. Mind as Organic Unity, Hence 177

a. The Dependence of Knowledge 1 78

^. The Dependence of Knowledge 179

r. The Dependence of Will 179

2. Education must, therefore, affect the whole Personality 180

v.— Oriticism of Maxims.

I. Maxim of different Faculties each requiring its own Kind of

Culture 180

3. Maxim of First Forming, then Furnishing Faculty 181

3. Learning to Do by Doing 183

4. Proceeding from the Known to the Unknown 182

5. Proceeding form Concrete to Abstract 183

6. The Order of Nature and the Order of the Subject 183

Preceeding from the whole to the Part 184

7. Teadiing what is understood 184

8. Teaching Things, not Words 184

a. Words Introduce Representative Factor 185

^. Words Make Knowledge General and Definite 185

c. Words Concentrate Knowledge 185

9. Let Education follow Nature 186

W\ ': II

r-»:

xxvi

COITTENTS.

CHAPTER IX.
TAe Method of Interrogation, Art of Questioning,

Introduction 187-189

Method of Exposition and of Questioning 187

Importance of Art of Questioning 187

Necessity of Training in 188

Relation of Theory and Prac'ce 188

What Experience Really is.
Division of Subject 189

A. Objects of Questioning 190

L— Testing Retention, or Presentation of Material. . . . 109

I. First Object to discover Pupil's Knowledge 190

a. This is Missed if

(1.) Too easy Stimulus (or Questioning) is presented :

Questioning the Past 190

I. Such Questions fail to stimulate 191

3. And hence are Monotonous 192

Illustrated by Drill.
'{U.) Too difficult Stimulus (or Questioning) is pre*

sented : Questioning the Future 192

Such Questions Fail to Aid Assimilation .... 193
' h. This is Secured if Teacher Finds out what Pupil knows

and honv he knows it ... . 194

Such Questioning Connects the old and the new . . 194

a. Second Object is to Fix Knowledge 195

a. Importance of Repetition . . 195

^. Law is that Activity (not Impression) Should bt Re-
peated 195

(1.) Forming Analytic and Synthetic Habit 196

{JtL) Forming Definite Perceptions : Habits of Rea*

soaing 196

#. Illustrations.

(s*. ) Getting Knowledge of Nnmben •••• 196

{u.) Getting Knowledge of Relation of Namben . . 197
1^) Getting Knowledge of Use of Axioms, Rilei, etc 197

CONTENTS.

ZXVU

d. Repetition of Act of Relating Facts Gives Power to

Think 198

Illustration , 199

e. Proper ami Improper Repetition :

Use and Abuse of Drill 199

(/. ^ Improper Repetition Dwells too much on " Con-
crete " 200

{«.) Drilling aside from the Real Point 201

(wV.) Drilling on Unimportant Points:

Sense of Proportion 20i

3. Third Object to Extend Knowledge 203

I )istinction of Telling and Questioning 203

a. Extends by Making Vague Definite 204

Questioning Should make Pupil realize for himself Imper-
fection of his knowledge 204

{i. ) Illustrations from Geometry , 205

(?V. ) Illustrations from Grammar 206-207

(m.) Illustrations from Arithmetic 208

b. Extends by Imparting New Knowledge 209

Questioning should lead Pupil to Institute new Rela-
tions 209

(/.) Illustration from Pronouncing Words 209

(n.) From Naming Numbers 210

(m. ) From Elementary Arithmetic. 21 1

(zV.) From Solution of Problems 212

(t/.) From Algebraic Formulae 213-214

4. Fourth Object is to Cultivate Power of Expression 215

{N.B. — This applies to II. or Training Apperception as well as to I.)

a. Relation of Knowledge and Language 215

(z.) Words Without Ideas are Em])ty.
Ideas Without Words are Chaotic.

{ii. ) Words Define and Make Permanent 216

(m. ) Thought is Not Complete Till Objectified in

Language 217

b. Hence Thought Lessons Must be Language Lessons 217

Each Reacts upon the Other 218

c. Method of Training Expression and Thereby Thought.... 219

(/. ) Question Pupil to Clear Thuuyhl 220

• ' [ii. ) Then to Clear Oral Statement of the Thought .... 220
(m.) Then to Clear Written Statement 221

xxviii

GONTENTS. .

i/. nittstntion of Rule : No Thought Without Esprecikm.

{$.) Elementary Illustrations 321

(iV. ) Illustrations from Study of Clasiici aaa

»: Ci'

lit!

il.

CHAPTER X.
TAe Method of Interrogation — Continued.

A. Objects of Questioning— Ctfw/wiKA/.

n.— Training of Apperception.
Objects are :

1. To Excite Interest 334

This is secured by

a. Clear Presentation 325

Clearness in the Teacher 225

b. Developing Sense of Power 226

Time requisite for Development 226

Sense of Power requires Self* Education 227

€* Sympathy in Teacher 228

(t) This Secures Confidence 292

(»*) Brings Mind of Teacher close to Mind of Child 229

(<Vi) It arouses the Dull 230

4. Personality of Teacher 231

(1) Personality involves Union of Sympathy and <

Enthusiasm 232

(»i) Method of Personality 232

Evil of substituting Mechanical Method lor Per*
sonal Power 333

2. To arouse Attention 233

Questions challenge Attention 234

(0 They awaken Old Knowledge, adjust it upon

New 234-235

(Us Illustration 235

3. To direct Attention 236

(•) Questions keep the Mind in Orderly Movement 236
(ff) Thus develop Power of Analysis and Synthesis 236
(m*) Illustrations 237

coNTiim. nux

4. To Cnltivate Habit of Self-Questioidag S38

(0 Goal of Attention S38

(iV) Gives Independence of Mind ...•• ••• 339

3 Qualifications of the Qnestiondr.

L Acquired Qualifications 240

1. Thorough Knowledge •• . 240

((') Requires Knowledge of Kindred Subjects and

Advanced Branches 240

{ii) Improtant in Primary Teaching 241

(iVi) As well as in higher work 341

2. Preparation of Lessons , 242

3. Analytic Power S43

4. Knowledge of Mind 343

5. Practice in Questioning 244

n. Natural Endowments 344

Force of Personality 245

Its Moral and Religious Spirit 345

0. liCatter and Form of Questions 345

I. As to Matter, Questions should be

1. Definite •••• 246

Illustrations.

2. Connected — In Logical Sequence 347

3. Adapted to Capacity 348

4. And should exhibit Sense of Proporticm ••• 349

II. As to Form, Questions should be

1. Put in Good language 249

2. Varied 249

3. Given in Questioner's Own Words 249

4. Should not be Elliptical

5. Should follow Serial by Topical Order , 350

m. Mode of Questioning

Various Suggestions , 350

D. Matter and Form of Answers.

Various Suggestions • 351*252

Class — Answering.

Answers wholly Wrong. ,

Partly Right, Partly Wrong.

Writing Answers, eta

CONTENTS.

iMir

i I 1

!
I

•J

(

-t

I il i

III

CHAPTER XI.

Kindergarten Work and Self-Instruction in

Public Schools,

I. Introduction—

Grounds for introducing Kindergarten Work 252

1. Physical Education 253

2. Moral Education 254

3. Intellectual Education 255

4. Kindeigarten Instruction is Rational 256

5. The beginning of Wisdom 256

IL Blocks and Building 257

1. Object Lessons with Blocks 258

2. Illustration . . < 259

3. Value of this 260

4. Constructive Exercises with Blocks 261-62

5. Self- Instruction witn Blocks 263-64

6. Forms of Beauty with Blocks 264-67

7. Value of Kindergarten Exercises 267-68

m. The Tablets.

I. Description of 268-69

a. Object Lessons with 269-71

3. Constructive Exercises with 271-72

4. Self-Instruction with Tablets.

IV. The Sticks.

I. Constructive ExtrcisesyiiMx 275

3. Kindergarten Drawing 275

V. Exercises for Hand-Training.

1. Slat lnte'l..cing *7S-79

2. Paper Folding 280-S3

3. Mat Wearing 283-84

4. Kindergarten Work and *' Half-Time " System 284-86

VL Bemltf Manifested 286

on tn

CONTENTS. XXXI

VII. Self-Instruction in Common Work.

1. Trinciple of Reproduction 286

2. Prepare Self-Instruction Work 287

3. Writing and Drawing 287

4. Reading 287-88

5. Arithmetic 288

• . . . 252

.... 253
.... 254
.... 25s
— 256
. ... 256

•• 257
.. 258

•' 259
. .. 260

261-62
263-64
264-67
367-68

CHAPTER XII.

Outline Methods in Special Subjects.

1. Geography 289-96

II. Arithmetic 296-304

III. Primary Reading 305-1 1

IV. Training Language Power 312-15

V. Grammar 315-17

268-69
269-71

371-72

.. 275
••• 275

878-79
280-S3
283-84
284-86

.. 386

ill'

"it , '-

I ;

k !

Iff

J I ill

PRINCIPLES AND PRACTICE

EDUCATION.

CHAPTER I.

PSYCHOLOGY AND ITS RF.T.ATION TO THE TEACHER.

On hearing the oft-repeated assertion of the high value of a
knowledge of psychology as a preparation for teaching, the
teacher may reasonably ask : — What is psychology, and what
relation does it bear to the work of the teacher? Is it essential
or at least important, that he should have a knowledge of the
subject? If it is important what makes it so, and how shall
the teacher avail himself of it in order to become a better
educator? To a brief consideration of these questions, this
chapter will be devoted.

Psychology Defined. — VVhat is psychology? For the
teacher's purpose, the simplest answer that can be given to this
question is that it is the science of the minds of those whom he
has to teach — the term mind being used to include the entire
psychical (Greek, psyche soul) nature, the will, and the emo-
tions, as well as the intellect. Since the teacher has to do,
on the whole, with the body, the physical nature of the pupil,
only on account of its close connection with moral and
intellectual habits, it is plain that this definition is almost
equivalent to saying that for the teacher psychology is the
science of the pupil himself; it is a sys.'ematic and orderly
account of the mind that the educator must reach, of the nature of
this mind and of the laws, principles and results of its activity.

PSYCHOLUGY.

11 ► !

I Hi

I L

M t

Formal Definition and Terms. — A more technical definition of
psychology is that it is the science of the facts or phenomena of self. By
self is meant that the mind tx\%\.& /or itself x that it is conscious of its own
processes and states. Other terms used are Ego implying that the self
recognizes itself as I in distinction from things and from other persons. Soul
as generally used, suggests the close relation between the mind and its organ,
the botly. Subject is used to imply that the mind is a unity binding together
all feelings, ideas, and purposes, and distinguishes it from the object which
lies over against self. The term spirit suggests the higher moral and reli-
gious activities of mind.

Methods of Psychology. — There are various methods used for invest-
igating and explaining psychical facts. A person may .set himself to study
his own mind ; may watch the origin and progress of his own thoughts ;
may analyze them as they come and go and note the ties that seem to con-
nect them. In other words, he may observe himself as he would observe
any phenomena. This is the method of introspection — of looking withm.
Many of our ideas come to us primarily through the connection of soul with
body in the form of sensations, and many of our states, as our desires, express
themselves through the body. We may, therefore, experiment with our
sense organs as a means of changing our ideas. This is the experimental
method. We may also study the minds of others. We may observe (i)
children with a view to ascertaining the original forms and gradual
development of what we know introspectively only as finished products.
Or we may study (2) animals, with a view to learning about instincts, and
the lower stages of psychical life ; or (3) the minds of those defective or
disordered, like the blind, the deaf, or the insane, and thus discover the
effect of withdrawal or alteration of any factor. In these three cases, we
are following the comparative method. Or, finally, instead of studying mind
directly, we may study its products and then reason back to those
activities of mind necessary to produce such results. Language, the growth
of science and of art, political and religious institutions, we may consider
and study as manifestations, embodiments of intelligence, and hence infer
some laws of intelligence itself. This is the objective method.

The Basis of Educational Method.— More particu-
larly, psychology is an account of the various ways in which the
mind works. Some of these ways are what constitute the pro-
cess of learning, and it is of prime importance that the teacher
should know them, in all his educational work it is to these
processes that he must appeal, and upon them that he must build.

ITS RELATION TO THE TEACHER.

A method of teaching which does not rest upon these processes
will be arbitrary, and either barren of good results or positively
harmful. Such a method, having no connection with any activity
native to the learner's mind, either hangs " in the air " utterly
without practical significance, or tends to thwart some activity
instead of aiding its development. A child's psychical processes
will doubtless go on whether he is taught well or ill, or indeed
whether he is taught at all or not ; but left to themselves — to
the education of " nature " — or directed by wrong methods,
they are almost sure to stop shorf- of their highest cai)acity, to
operate feebly or only intermittently, and to be exercised in
a wasteful and inefficient way : thus the true end of education —
the ha: nionious ami equable evolution of the human powers — is
never reached. Methods find their place in stimulating
the instinctive activities into ever-renewed movement, in
keeping them directed in the right line, and progressing
upon that line in the simplest, most economical and most vital
way. They must rest, therefore, upon knowledge of the
activities of the mind and of the laws governing thera. This
knowledge psychology aims to give.

Value of Method. — The position thus given to method
does not detract from its high value — a value so high,
that the whole question of education on its p-actical side,
is a question of method. It only shows what is the reason for
this high value. It shows that methods have such an import-
ant place because they are tributary to the natural processes
of the mind. Methods are brought into disrepute not by
giving them this subsidiary function, but by making them
mere mechanical devices which the teacher is required to
master in order to give instruction in certain subjects. A method
regarded as a mere contrivance for imparting knowledge is at
best formal and lifeless, and at worst, degenerates into a mere
stereotyped trick, the repetition of which is deadening to the

■«■■

PSYCHOLOGY.

#:i'

I .

■'II ■

I. !

-iV n

I !i

pupil, and degrading to the teacher. But exactly the same
outward procedure when not the result of blind obedience to an
assumed educational rule, but followed as clearly auxiliary to
some activity on the part of the i)ui)il, places the work of the
teacher on a rational basis, gives it vitality and effectiveness,
and makes the teacher an artist rather than a tradesman. It
should ever be remembered that the servile imitation of what in
the hands of another may be a right method, or the mechanical
adherence to empirical rules, is not educational method in any
true sense of the term. True educational methods are ways of
approach to the learner's mind, and ways of directing its
activities according to well understood laws. They are not the
blind observance of formulae, pedagogical, or otherwise ; but
are skillful adaptations to the mental processes of the concrete
subject who is learning, the actual individual self. Upon this
fact and this alone is based the claim of the great educational
importance of psychology. •

Limitations of Psychology.— But it is important to
know what psychology cannot do as well as what it can do.
The following limitations are accordingly to be noticed. In the
first place teaching deals with individuals, while psychology,
like every science, is generic. That is to say, as a science, it
deals with classes ; it gives the laws of mind in general, but
overlooks the specifically different circumstances under which
these laws operate in different individuals. Botany, for example,
while giving the laws of plant life in general, does not deal with
the individual roses, geraniums, etc., about which the chief
interest of the florist centres. Similarly psychology says and can
say nothing about this and that boy and girl j yet it is just with
this and that boy and girl that the teacher has continually to do.

In the second place^ psychology as a science is theoretical,
while teaching is practical. That is to say psychology can give
the teacher knowledge Oi the laws ot the workings of the

ITS RELATION TO THE TEACHER.

mind ; but it cannot give him the tact and skill and insight
necessary to apply these laws with the best possible results in
his actual experiences. Just as one may know the laws of the
physiology and pathology of the human body and yet be a poor
physician through lack of the practical qualities, the sympathy,
the insight, the energy necessary to apply this knowlo Ige, so
one who lacks sympathy may be able to state all that is known
of psychology and yet be a poor teacher ; for science is a weak
substitute for sympathy. On the other hand, great sympathy
with pupils will often give the teacher a power of insight into
their menial processes, and thus enable him to adjust his teach-
ing methods with good effect, although he has but slight
theoretical knowledge ; in this case, sympathy is, in part, a
substitute for philosophy.

But these limitations, after all, only amount to saying that
personal skill based partly on inborn qualities, and partly on
acquired experience, counts for much in teaching as in every-
thing else. The best teacher will be he who unites high personal
qualities with knowledge of the theory of his subject which has
been perfected by experience ; for " studies perfect nature
and are perfected l)y experience."

Mode of Treatment. —We may begin our study of the
theory which underlies teaching by comparison of a finished "
manufactured article to completely developed mental states.
Just as a piece of broadclc th was not always cloth, but was made
from the raw material by certain mechanical processes, so an
act of thought or will was at first psychical raw material which
had to undergo certain psychical processes in order to become a
finished product. The teacher will naturally desire to know
something about each of these, something about the capacities
which are the beginnings, the raw material — something about
the processes which act upon the raw material, and something
about the finished products. Accordingly we shall take up I.

SENSATION.

I'hk Bases OF PsYCHicAi, Life. II. Thk Procf.ssesof Psychi
CAL Life, and IIL YVic three forms of psychical development,
viz., tlie Iniellkctual, the l'>MorioNAL, and the Volitional,
with sonictiiing about the various classes of facts coining under
each heaf'

NoTK. — Regardintj Psychology and its Methods consult Dewey's Psy

1 liolofry, Chapter I.

! i'

CHAPIER IL

THE BASES OF PSYCHICAL LIFE.

As just said, the development of mind takes its origin from
certain capacities which are at once the stimulus to further
progress and the raw material out of which the more complex
forms are made. These bases are, upon the intellectual side,
Sensations ; upon the emotional, Interests ; upon the voli-
tional. Impulses. We begin with a study of the facts con-
cerning

§1. SENSATION.

Sensation may be defined as any Mental State which
arises from a bodily stimulus, and upon the bans of 7vhich we
Q^et knowledge of the world around us. A few examples will
make this clear. We smell of an orange, and get the
sensation of odor ; we put a part of it in our mouth, and get the
sensation of taste ; we look at it, and get the sensation of color ;
we explore its surface with our hands, and get the sensation of
contact, of pressure, and of temperature ; we drop it, and get
the sensation of sound. If we apply these examples to our de-
finition we see (i) That smell, taste, si t, touch and hearing
are all mental states^ for the mind's contuit b changed as soon

THE BASES OF PSYCHICAL LIFL

as each occurs; (2) I'hat the means which occasion these mental
changes are docfi/y organs, the eye, ear, hand, etc., together with
tho nerves connecting these organs with the brain ; and (3)
That through each of these states we learn something about our
surroundings. If, now, we regard the orange as an illustration
of the whole world about us, we see how the first step in know-
ledge of this world is taken. "

Sensations are Immediate and Presentative.— By

immediate is meant that the last antecedent of the mental state
is a physical change and not an intervening psychical process.
Sensations of yellow, of the peculiar taste and smell of the
orange follow as soon as the eye or the proper organ is directed
by the mind upon this fruit. The mind does not have to re-
member, or imagine or think in order to have these feelings.
J'.ut, if the eye falls upon the figures, 7, 9, 8, 6, 5, 4, the intel
lect must go through a series of processes and come to a con-
clusion before discovering that the sum is 39. Such knowledge
is accordingly called mediate, that is, depending upon intermedi-
ate processes, and is opposed to sensation. We may illustrate
again by the difference between simply hearing a sound and
comprehending the meaning of the words uttered. The sound
is heard as soon as the stimulus reaches the brain ; the mean-
ing of the words is not apprehended until certain processes of
interpretation, to be studied hereafter, are brought to bear.

The term presentative has somewhat the same significance
as immediate. A sensation is called presentative because it is
formed wholly of original elements, without any reproduced
fiictors entering in. Thus the pain that I feel as 1 cut my
finger is immediately presented to me, and is a sensation, while
the memory of this pain, or the pain that comes from the hear-
ing of the death of a friend, is representative, being based upon
the recalling of past experiences. The sensation, in a word,
is presentative because occasioned by some object actually

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SENSATION.

affecting the organ of sense ; while memories, abstract ideas,
conceptions like those of justice, of education, of arithmetic,
not being produced by some direct affection of the sense-organ,
are representative in character.

Sensation, to sum up, is primary and original, not secondary
and derived, and has no antecedent excepting the physical
stimulus of the sense-organ. Sensation is, therefore, the simple
and elementary material out of which knowledge of the world
about us is built up, and hence our account of how the mind
gains its knowledge must begin with a study of sensations.

Oharacteristics of SensatioilS. — From these general
considerations we must turn to a study cf the particular character-
istics of sensation. We may continue to illustrate by the sensa-
tions occasioned by the orange —say the visual sensation of
color. This sensation, like every other, possesses quality^
extensity, intensity, and tone. By quality is meant the peculiar
nature or content of the sensation — in this case, that it is a
color and not a sound or taste, and furthermore that it is yellow
In color, and not green nor red. Extensity refers to the extent
of impression produced, to its voiumi?iottsness. A small portion
of jrange skin does not make so extensive an impression
as the whole orange, nor this as a whole basket of oranges..
Intensity is not to be confounded with extensity. The latter,
as just said, means the largeness of the impression. But any
sensation of yellow, whatever its extent, has a certain degree of
intensity according to the amount of light which produces
it. This intensity would be nothing in pitch darkness, and
at its brightest, of course, in noonday light, while at twilight
it would b.^ feeble, etc Similarly the intensity of a sound may
vary from the slightest whisper to the loudest roar of artillery.
Finally, as to ioney the yellow may be more or less painful, be-
cause the color is crude and glaring, or it may be pleasant
because refined and pure in quality. The tone thus refers to

THE BASES OF PSYCHICAL LIFE.

the emotional effect which the sensation excites, whether agree-
able or disagreeable.

The Conditions of Sensation.— I'^ach of these charac-
teristics depends partly upon (i) physical and partly upon (2)
physiological conditions. These should now be studied.

(1) The Physical Factor. — The ultimate physical occa-
sion of sensation is always some form of motion. Of taste
and smell the sensory stimulus is molecular motions not well
understood ; of touch, the stimulus is motion in the form of
vibration of masses and visible particles ; of hearing, it is motion
of air or some other substance having weight, while of sight,
the stimulus is vibrations of an imponderable medium called
ether. The intensity, and, to a certain degree, the quality
of sensations, correspond to properties of the motions occasion-
ing them. Imagine a ball hung by a string to be struck a blow ;
the harder the blow the wider will be the swing of the ball.
That is, the amplitude of a vibration depends upon the impetus
of the moving particle. Now if we imagine the swinging ball
to come in contact with a drum head, it is evident that the
harder the ball is moving (or the greater its amplitude) the
greater will be the shock of the contact. From this illuslration
it may be gathered that the intensity of a sensation depends
upon the strength of the motion which stimulates it, and, if
this motion is in the form of a vibration, upon the amplitude
of the vibration.

Sound and Color. — In the cases of sound and color, at all
events, the quality of the sensation corresponds to the velocity
^ndform of the vibration exciting them. By velocity is meant
the number of swings that occur in a given time, whatever the
width or amplitude of the swing. The lowest musical tones are
produced by a rate of from twelve to twenty vibrations per
second ; the highest tone, by vibrations at the rate of about forty
thousand per second. Between these two extremes come the

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SENSAtlON.

various octaves of pitch. There is also a scale of co/or in which
red corresponds to the slowest rate, which is, however, almost
infinitely more rapid than those of sound, being four hundred and
fifty-one billions per second; violet corresponds to the most
rapid, seven hundred and eighty five billions per second, while
the five other spectral colors occupy the interval.

Mixed Sounds and Colors —So far we have been
speaking only of pure or unmixed tones and colors. But if
the vibrations are complex in form, composed, not of a single
regular series of waves, but by the superim position of a
number of series, we have mixed or composite sounds and
colors. In the sphere of hearing there is produced what is
called ti?nbre or tone-color. This is that quality in sound which
distinguishes an organ tone from a piano or violin tone of
exactly the same pitch and intensity, or from a human voice,
or one voice fiom another. In the sphere of colors, this union
of various systems of vibrations produces the mixed or impure
colors which we call shxdes ; for example, in red, we have
scarlet, crimson, rose, pink, etc. The proper intermixture of
the vibrations corresponding to the seven spectral colors forms
white. This is, perhaps, all that need be said about the rela-
tion of the external stimulus to the sensation.

(2) The Physiological Factor.— We turn now to the
physiological side of the sensation. Here there are three points
to be taken into account, first, the nerve organ that receives
the physical stimulus, second, the nerve conveying the stimulus
from the organ to the brain, and third, the change in the
brain itself. The organs that are exposed to stimulation are
classified as special and general sensory organs. The special
organs are those whose function is to receive some specific
stimulus to which it is especially adapted, as the eye, for example,
is fitted to receive and react upon the waves of ether. The i^e/icral
organs are those the main business of which is not the reception

THE BASES OF PSYCHICAL LIFE.

of sensor)' stimuli at all, but the regulation of some organic pro-
cess, like breathing, digestion, or circulation. The nerves
found in the lungs, stomach, etc., are not tliere for the express
purpose of giving sensa'ions, but secondarily and incidentally
they do give rise to sensations which tell us how the respiratory
or the digestive process is going on.

Differences between General and Special Sensa-
tions. — This difference in organs leads to a corresponding
division of sensations into general or organic^ and specific. The
main distinctions are the following :

1. In the specific sensations, as touch, hearing and vision,
quality is the prominent constituent ; in the organic, as diges-
tion, etc., totie. Taste and smell, although specific senses, have
so much emotional accompaniment that they are intermediate.

2. From the above difference, it results that the specific
sensations are clear and their contents easily distinguishable,
while the organic are almost indescribable in their vagueness.
So too, while the specific sensations are sharply defined in the
order of both co-existence and sequence, the organic shade into
one another by indistinct blendings.

3. The organic sensations report to us the condition of our
own bodily systems, their health, comfort or the reverse, and
serve along with taste and smell to direct our bodily processes
properly, while the specific mainly report to us objects outside
of our own body, and subserve the theoretical end of know-
ledge. On this account, the two classes are sometimes termed,
the subjective and the objective.

4. One of the most important differences, from the teacher's
standpoint, is that in the order of their development. At birth
and in early infancy, sensations in which the factor of tone pre-
vails are the predominating, but they gradually give way in
importance to sensations in which quality is more important.
The infant is at first taken up almost wholly with organic

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SENSATION.

sensations of hunger and thirst, comfort, or fatigue and pain,
etc. Kven taste and smell do not seem to convey much idea
about the quality of the substance tasted, but only of its
emotional effect. But in time sounds and colors are observed,
at first the brighter and more intense. For a long time after
( olors are noticed, the child has no distinct idea of the differ-
ence between various color nualities — between green and red,
yellow and blue, etc. The development begins, in other words,
with the emotional and the vagiie^ and advances towards the
definite and the inteliedual.

The senses in which quality predominates, particularly sight,
hearing and touch, since they are the senses which give the
most information about the surrounding world, are those of
most importance to the teacher.

The Sensation as a Psychical State.— But, although the intensity

and quality of sensation depend largely upon external and physiological
circumstances , the sensation in itself is psychical ; it is a state of con-
sciousness. The changes in the nervous system are all physical ; they are
only changes of matter and of motion. They are objective and have no con-
scious existence for themselves. But the sensation is not material nor
spatial. It has no right nor left, no quick or slow motion. It simply
exists as a psychical occurrence. Materialism attempts to regard the sens-
ation as only nerve force changed into another form, just as heat may be
changed into light, this into electricity and so on. But heat, light and
electricity may all be considered as forms of motion, and hence as con-
vertible into one another ; while sensation is net a form of motion. Even
the materialist is obliged to confess that the chaA;^ i from one to the other is
unaccountable, mysterious, unthinkable.

Nervous Ohange is not Oause, but Stimulus. We cannot re-
gard the change in the brain therefore, as sufficient explanation of a sensa-
tion. There is required something which may co-operate with the motion.
This is the soul itself. The motion acts as an excitation ; a stimulus to
call the soul into activity. The soui, thus incited, responds with a
sensation. The true c.^use of a sensation is, therefore, the activity of the
soul, while the affection of the sense and the change in the nerve and brain
are necessary to set this cause in action. Sensation may thus be regarded
as the meeting place of the physical and the psychical ; the transition from

THE BASES OF PSYCH fCAL LIFE.

and pain,
nuch idea
»nly of its
observed,
time after
the differ-
i and red,
her words,
wards the

larly sight,
I give the
I those of

the intensity
)hysiological
tate of con-
il ; they are
lave no con-
laterial nor
It simply
rd the sens-
eat may be
ight and
ce as con-
ion. Even
the other is

cannot re*
of a sensa-
the motion,
stimulus to
ids with a
ivity of the
e and brain
}e regarded
ittion from

■s

one to the other. It is in sensation that nature gains qualities, and is

transfonnal into color, sound, shape, etc., instead of remaining a mono-
tonous repetition of motions. And in sensation the soul comes in connection
w ih mechanical law, with physical stimulus, so as to be itself mechanically

controlled.

Touch, the Foundation Sense.— Touch is important

becaase it is the foundation sense, and because it is most closely
connected with the organ for the expression of the will — the
muscular system. It may be called the foundation sense for two
reasons — Firsts because the other senses appear to be developed
from it ; since biologically considered, they are differentations
of it ; and, secondly^ because the other senses rest upon it for
assistance and confirmation. Touch gives the most intimat(
and detailed knowledge of any sense. To be in contact with
anything is synonymous with having relations of closest ac
quaintance with it. We also attribute a superior reality to the
reports of this sense, for after feeling that our eyes and ears
may deceive us, on account of their remoteness from the object,
we attempt to grasp the object, and by handling it, to get a sense
of certainty. It is characteristic of ghosts that while they can
be seen and heard they cannot be touched. The other reason
given for the educational importance of this sense is its close
connection with the organ of motor activity, —the muscular
system. Touch is pre-eminently an active sense. Touching
is almost identical with the exercise of energy. Contact is not
passive reception of impressions, but is grasping and exploring.
The hand, that most mobile of organs, is the peculiar organ o:
touch. A child is never contented until he has the object he
perceives in his hands, and turns it over and over, and " tries "
it for himself. The first real education of the senses comes through
touch, and wherever the senses are largely concerned, the teacher
must continue to rely upon it.

Importance of Sight and Hearing.— The importance
of sight and hearing in knowledge is such a commonplace that it

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SENSATION.

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is unnecessary to call attention to more than two or three points
One of these points is the complex and varied apparatus whicij
each sense possesses for malcing discriminations. There is almost
no limit to the ^»e/2ess o( culture of which these senses are suscept-
ible. They give the clearest and m jst definite of all sensations.
It is further to be noted that the eye is, in a certain way, the s^nse
for s/>acg, and th;it it follows from this that whatever exists as a
whole made up of co-existent parts should be presented to the
eye in order to K- ?prehended most readily and thoroughly.
The rani(e also of this sense is so great that its capacity for
simultaneous impressions makes it a fit organ for grasping the
relations of a complex subject. Hence the use of maps, chron-
ological charts, nuii^.^-^r ■ vbles, and all graphic representations.
The ear, on the otKcr }'\v ' h the sense for time and of events
that follow one anotl.er, dLd hence should be appealed to
wherever a sulject is co be lO ^d in which the relation of
sequence predoniinates.

Individual Differences inSense-Organs. -Atten tion

however, should be called to the fact that individual differences
may make necessary a departure from the rules just laid down.
There are always some children in whom one sense predomin-
ates to such a degree that it is the natural organ for learning
and for recalling. This prominence may occur in such a way
that the child is of the motor, the visual ox the audiioiy type. In
the visual type, the eye is the leading sense, impressions being
received most easily and ^retained most permanently through
this organ. Such persons note readily all the details which
they see, and can picture them vividly to themselves afterwards.
Draughtsmen, geometers and chess players of unusual ability
are generally pronounced visualists. Artists have been known
to paint accurately portraits from the vividness of their mental
vision without the presence of the person represented. Persons
of this type when repeating memorized matter seem to see the
written or printed page before their eyes and to read from it

THE BASES OF PSYCHICAL LIFE.

«s

\ffut(^^yjfyiKtt in tfrif{s of the tfiit/ thrauf(h u * Ai^ 4k e im^fVMMf i
is mostj asily n

The same is to be said of the auditory and motor types,
excepting that in these cases the ear or else muscular activity
with touch takes the lead. Those of the auditory type memor-
ize most easily by reading the matter aloud. Upon repeating
it they seem to hear a voice reading to them. Those of the
motor type will articulate to themselves when reading, studying,
or engaged in reflection ; and when recalling they depend upon
a repetition of this silent articulation. They often assist them-
selves with a kind of suppressed movement of the fingers, as it
writing. While an excessively one sided development of any
sense is to be avoided, the teachers can often be of great service
to the pupil by discovering to what type the pupil belongs, and
appealing to him through that sense. , ,

Educational Principles. ^^=^^6 mpy conclude this study

by summing up certain educational principles flowing from the
psychology of sensation.

I. The teacher should remember that it is impossible to have
knowledge wliere there has been no basis in presentation. There
can no more be an idea of anything external not derived in
some way from sensation than a blind man can tell how colors
look. Hence the necessity of constant appeal to the pupil's
own sense-activity, instead of talking about or representing the
thing to be known. Seeing is more than believing in primary-
education ; it is the beginning of knowledge. This does not
imply that no knowledge can be had excepting knowledge of
just that which has been presented to the senses. On the con
trary, the imai^ination and reasoning powers are capable of
erecting large and real superstructures upon a very slight basis
of sensation ; but it is meant that there must be some sensory
basis. Furthermore, a constant activity of the senses in early
years is necessary in order to develop the imagination and

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INTERESTS.

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thought to the point where they may be able to widen the
reports of the senses.

2. The teacher should also keep in mind the limitations of
sensation. Sensa/ion is not knoivledqe, but only a stimulus to it,
and ma'erial for it. The mental processes must act upon the
sense-material. It must not be forgotten, therefore, that
the ultimate end of appealing to the senses is the dn'elopmcnt of
the self-activity of the pupil in putting into motion those pro-
cesses of the pupil's mind which will apprehend the sensations,
and in strengthening the processes so that they will grow natur-
, ally into memory, imagination and thought.

j 3. The teacher should remember the necessity of a proper
\adnptation of teaching, yfrj-r, to the stage of development of sense-
I activity reached by the pupil, secondly^ to the proper sense for
taking in the particular subject taught, and thirdfyy to any
peculiarities that may exist in the senses of the individual under
instruction.

Note. — Regarding the details of sensation, see Dewey's Psychology,
chapter III. ^

'"^ § 2. THE INTERESTS.

We have been dealing with sensation as the basis of infor-
mation about objects and events — with the beginnings of
knoic'ledge. But we have had occasion to notice that sensa-
tions possess 'tone' in greater or less degree, that is, that
they have a certain agreeable or disagreeable emotional
effect. This is not any part of the information conveyed by
the sensation, but is a part of the relation of the presentation
to the mind. It arises because of the interest which the pre-
sentation has for the mind. It is the matter of interest which
is now to be discussed.

Interest cannot be described, it can only be felt. But every
one knows what he means by saying that something interests
him ; he means that it bears such a relation to hiai as renden

THE BASES OF PSVLHICAL LIFE.

3 widen the

It a;iractive, and draws and fixes the mind's attention. While
an analytic description cannot be given, certain differences
Wctween the interesting side of a presentation and that which
affords knowledge may be pointed out.

I. Interest is e'^iotional rather than intellectual. That is to

say, it does not p[ive information about anything in the external

world, but arises from the state of the mind itself. It is usually

iccompanicd with piin or pleasure, but cannot be said to be

dentical with them.

.?. Interest is subjtctive, while knowledge is objective. The
term objective means having to do with the world, with objects,
(.vents and their laws \ while the term subjective means belong-
ing to the subject, to the mind without regard to the world
outside.

3. Interest is individual^ while knowledge is universal. By
universal we mean belonging to a world which is open to all
minds alike. That seven and nine make sixteen is a universal
flict ; it holds for all mmds under all circumstances. By in-
dividual we mean being the unique and peculiar possession of
some one mind. Others may have an interest similar to mine
in, say, the subject of arithmetic, but none can share in my
interest. They cannot even know that it exists unless I speak
of it, or, by some other external act, make it known. In itself
it is wholly internal^ and not a fact in the world, but a fact
belonging to me, or to thee, to some individual.

Interest is as much a spontan;.'Ous capacity of the mind as
sensation is. It is an ultimate and irreducible fact, and, like
sensation, an indispensable basis for higher development.
While it may be cultivated and transferred from subject to sub-
ject in such a way as to make interesting what was previously
indiiicrent or repulsive, it can no more be originally created
than a new sense can be created.

Importance of Interest.— The psychological importance

INTERESTS.

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of interest is found in the fact that it is the means by which
the mind is drawn to any subject, and led to exercise itself
upon it. Whatever does not interest the mind, that liie mind is
indiflferent to ; and whatever is indifferent is for that mind as
if it had no existence. The problem of teaclilng an intelligent
savage some technical scientific matter would not be chiefly a
problem of how to give him sensations regarding it, nor how to
give him mental capacity enough to understand it, bin how to
arouse his interest in such a way that he would set his mind to
work upon it. Interest is, therefore, as much a necessary source
of knowledge as is sensation. Sensations might have all th.
objective qualities that they now possess and yet if they failed
to interest, the mind would pass them over and they would
never enter into the structure(;;^foU(r, knowledge.

/ Educational Principle. — The resulting educational prin-
ciple is clear. While it is not necessary that learning should be
made a matter oi play ; while, indeed, education as the direc-
tion of the mind by methods supplied from without, is opposed
to the very idea of play, it ii necessary that teaching should always
f appeal to some interest, and, if the subject is not intrinsically
/ interesdng, that interest should be made to gather about it
That is, the subject should also be connected with something
that does possess this intrinsic interest. In teaching children
there is but little difficulty in ma ing interesting sensations into
elements of knowledge. The chief problem is how to invest
the indifferent with interest. By no observance of rules can this
be done ; it is matter of personal power in the teacher — a
power almost wholly due to sympathy which is, in the emotional
world, what attention is in the intellectual world. Under the
influence of this power the teacher is interested in the subject
for the sake of the pupil ; interest begets interest, and the pupil
often becomes interested in the indifferent for the sake of the
teacher. The teacher .should also keep in mind the individual
and subjective character of interest as a reason why his mode

•^f

THE BASES OF PSYCHICAL LIFE.

ms by which

xcrcise itself
t ilie mind is
lat mind as
.n inielligent
be chiefly a
, nor how to
, bill how to
his mind tc
ssary source
iiave all th.
f they failed
1 they would

ational prin-

g should be

s the direc-

is opposed

ould always

intrinsically

about it

something

ig children

ations into

to invest

as can this

eacher — a

emotional

Under the

he subject

1 the pupil

ake of the

individual

his mode

if presenting a subject should be varied sufficiently to catch the
(liriering interests of different minds.
Note.— On this subject see Dewey's Psychology, pp. i6 and I46, </ se^.

1 3. IMPULSE.

Having studied the intellectual and emotional basis
jt" the psychical life, we have to take up Impulse as M<f
volitioniil basis. • Impulses are activities which arise from
so m< feeling of want and ivhich^ guided by interest in the satisfaction
of that tvant, lead to some physical change.. For illustration,
we may take the impulse for food. This arises from the organic
feeling, hunger, a feeling of lack and of desire for something to
satisfy this lack, and it manifests itself in certain movements
of the body, those necessary to supply the lack. Impulse
reverses the order of sensation. The latter begins in outward
physical motion which traverses the sensory nerves to the brain,
and then becomes a psychical state. But impulses begin in a
psychical state, and this, by means of the brain and motor nerves,
IS transformed into outward motion. Sensation moves inward
and impulse outwards.

Importance of Impillse. — To be convinced of the import-
mce of impulse we need but watch any sentient being from
the lowest to the highest, and call to mind that all their actions,
excepting the purely physiological, are only the outward expres-
sions of impulse. Impulse, in short, is the basis of will. It is
only the basis, however, for it requires to be regulated, and its
various forms harmonized with one another before it becomes
a true act of will ; the growth of will begins with the acqui-
sition of power over bodily movements ; the will less activities
of impulse are isolated and co-ordinafed into movements in
which purpose is clearly displayed : thus the child begins to
seize an object, to hold the head erect, to sit abne, to stand, to
walk, to talk, etc. Impulses, like sensations, have to be acted

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upon by higher psychical processes in order to be changed into
finished products.

Impulse and Instinct. — impulses are closely connected
with instincts. Indeed, an instinct may be defined as an inv
])ulse which takes at once, \vithout being taught by experience,
the channel necessary to .rcacii its proper end. Instinct, in
other words, is an impulse which leads one to do, without any
knowledge of the reason why, just what one would do, if he
had complete knowledge of the circumstances. The impulse
for food, for example is, in most animals and in man in his
infancy, an instinct, because the organism of each, as soon
as it feels the want of food, takes just the measures needed to
secure it, and does this without being guided by previous ex-
])erience. , .

Impulses Classified. — Impulses maybe classified, accord-
ing to the stimulus which arouses the sense of want, as im-
pulses of sensatiofi, oi penepiion, of imitation^ and of expression.

I. Impulses of Sensation. — A sensation not only reports
something external to the organism, but it excites a tendency
to act with regard to that something, to appropriate it. Thus
the appetites, which are regularly recurring tendencies to lay
hold of something external and to make it a part of the organ-
ism, arise in needs which are excited by organic affections, that
is by general sensations. But the special senses have also cor-
responding impulses. 'i'here is a hunger of the sense of
touch for contact with bodies, of the sense of hearing for
sounds, etc. Any one who has been shut off, as by sickness,
from his accustomed quota of sensations, knows that the
pleasure of recovery consists largely in the satisfaction of the
hunger of these senses. The impulses are now permitted to
act freely. There is such a thing as starving the mind by not
satisfying the sense-impulses, .s well as starving the body by
not satisfyin^^ its hunger-impulse.

rUE BASES OF PSYCHICAL LIFE.

a. Impulses of Perception. — These are such as arise directly
from the mere perception of an object. They come under
the head of impulses to grasp something or, in some way,
to continue the exploration of it. An infant begins to
reach for things as soon as he begins definitely to perceive
them. This impulse is one of the chief foundations of the
/)'— impulse. The child not only grasps the objects, but
\. ^les them, moves them here and there, tests their various
qualities for himself, and tries to see what he can do with
them.

3. Impulses t) Imitation. — As soon as an infant clearly
sees the actions of others, there is an instinctive impulse to re-
produce them in himself. He does not understand the original
intention of the action, nor why he endeavors to repeat it, but
the very perception of the action renders the child, for the time
being, an automaton. A baby " reads" when he takes a news-
paper or book, marks when he gets hold of a pencil, brushes
" a broom, strikes with a whip, and so on indefinitely. This

_ncy to imitation is an exceedingly important factor in early
education, enabling the child to learn easily w' it would other-
wise be effected, if at all, only by very laborious training.

4. Impulses to Expression. — These begin with the expres
sion of emotion or of inward states. Thus the infant cries,
smiles, laughs, draws back in fright, etc. These outward acts
are not originally intended to manifest the emotions, but are
tb.eir involuntary results. Finally, however, they may be used
as signs for denoting the mental states which formerly produced
them. After the expression of inward feeling comes the
manifestation of impressions produced by external objects. The
child points to and makes noises at any object that interests
him, and thus there gradually arises the whole class of gestures.
Among those in v/hom articulate speech does not render it
unneco isary there is produced a gesture language This is

IMPULSE.

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found among deaf mutes and among savage tribes who are in
close relations with other tribes, speaking different dialects. So
instinctive and unconventional is this mode of expression
that it has been found that North American Indians and deaf-
mutes have no difficulty in understanding -^ne another wlien
they come together, even for the first time. The highest class
of impulses of expression is that of the communication of
ideas. This manifests itself, for the most part, in spoken
language. In civilized mankind, at least, there is an impulse
towards speech as strong and as instinctive as that towards
locomotion. ^ ^ . '^^wlSlJ

/Educational Principles. ^^The educational bearing of
what has been said regarding the impulses is evident.

/ (i) The teacher should keep in mind the close connection of
/ the senses as source of knowledge with the senses as active
\ tendencies. It is not enough merely to put things before the
senses, care must be taken to see that the senses are directed
upon the things. Education of the senses comes through use
j of the senses, and training in the use of senses is training of the
I willy — of the regulation and co-ordination of impulses. An

(infant does not see, at first, not because the objects are not
reflected on its retina, but because there is no fixity of gaze, no
control over vision, but only a wandering, aimles glance dir
ected by any chance impulses. The baby learns to see, as
afterwards it learns to walk, by regulating and combining such
impulses. The teacher's work in training the senses must be
an extension and refining of this spontaneous learning.

(2) The teacher should bear in mind the great importance of
the instincts. It is of the highest import that teaching should
appeal to some natural instinct already existing r.nd that it
should draw out and develop this instinct, It is of equal im-
portance that the order of instruction in subjects should cor-
respond to the natural order of the appearance of instincts in

EDUCATIONAL PRINCIPLES.

the child. It has been well said that the pedagogical equivalent
of " strike while the iron is hot " is " seize every instinct at the
height of its development." In early life, each instinct as it
, ppears is so imperious that it is almost impossible that it should
not meet satisfaction. This constitutes the self taught, or rather
the unconsciously taught period, during which the child
learns to talk, to walk, etc. Afterwards as the instincts are
mtjre subtle and involved, there is greater need of the teacher's
tact and control. Before an instinct in a given direction
has shown itself, it is hopeless to educate a child in that
direction ; after that instinct has given v/ay to another, interest
dies out and the teacher, instead of availing himself of the tide
of energy setting naturally in that direction, has to evoke
IK tivity by artincial aids.

(3) Let the teacher, then, make the most of the impulses that
have been described. It follows from the /^rf*^//^/? impulses
that the child must be doing something ; under a judicious
teacher this impulse can be gratified and at the same time
directed. In rural schools a great deal of time is wasted, or
more than wasted, which the child should occupy in gratifying
his instinct for activity. He can be led — unless the teacher
is quite without power — to take an interest in many so-called
kindergarten operations, in writing, drawing, etc., by which he
is sure to gain quickness of eye and deftness of hand.

In such occupations, too, the impulse of imitation finds play :
the child likes to imitate the things that are pleasing to the eye,
and skilful imitation soon leads to the desire and the power to
invent beautiful forms. But more especially this im[)ulse is a
powerful co-factor with the " environment " in educating the
child. At first he unconsciously imitates the actions, the tones,
the gestures, the whole deme:«nor of those aboui him ; but un-
conscious imitation gives place to, or rather is strengthened by
voluntary imitation. When the bond of sympathy has been
formed between his teacher and himself, the child makes a

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THE PSYCHICAL PROCESSES.

conscious eforf to grow like the teacher. There is an intense
charm in imitating him to whom, as posessed of superior
powers, he looks up with reverence — fear blended with love.
He feels that he is growing in strength, in wisdom, in all manly
qualities, when he is growing like his teacher whom he regards
with so much deference. Thus it is that the characteristics of
I he teacher, his personal habits (neatness, etc) his tones of
voice, his gestures, his self-control, his energy, etc., have a
powerful influence in forming the character of the pupil.

The impulse of expression is equally important and equally
neglected. Let not the teacher thwart, but rather gratify the
impulse; through genuine sympathy let him gain the con-
fidence of the child, who will then be able to lay aside his
timidity and will take pleasure m trying to express his simple
thoughts and feelings. Kvery lesson should be a lesson in
expression as well as a lesson in thinking \ in fact, a lesson in
expression because it is a lesson in thinking.

Note. — Regarding the impnlses, see Dewey's Psychology, Chapter
XVIL

CHAPTER III.

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THE PSYCHICAL PROCESSES.

Three Ways in which Elements are Ooiwiected.

— We have now to take up the processes by which the law
material — sensations, interests and impulses — are worked up
into the forms of actual experience. If we examine what
makes up the contents of our minds, we shall see that the
complex forms whose mode of production we have to discover,
may be roughly grouped into three classes.

(i) In the first place, there are wholes made up of coexist
ent members. For example, as I look out of my window I

PSYCHICAL PROCESSES.

«5

do not get disconnected and fragmentary color sensations, but
I see a diversified landscape with its many features, and all are
present at about the same instant of time. The first group
is thus that which comprehends ideas composed of simultane-
ous or coexistent parts.

(2) But obviously ret all our mental experience will come
under this head. The sight of the landscape may suggest some-
thing that I have read in Wordsworth's poetry, this in turn may
call up Tennyson, this the subject of the House of Lords, and
so on indefinitely. Here we have a train of ideas, and its
members are connected successively, not simultaneously.

(3) Finally we rright be led from the idea of the House of
Lords to consider the advantages and disadvantages of an
aristocracy. In this case, we would compare the history of
different nations, examine political causes and effects, weigh
and sift evidence, reject all that did not seem to bear upon the
case in hand, and arrange the remaining facts to meet the
desired end. Here the result, as in the second case, would be a
train of ideas, consisting of successive members, but yet differing
from the second group. It is not a series whose parts suggest
one another at haphazard, but a controlled and regulated series.
The order is not one of time merely, but of an underlying
idea or end with reference to ^ hich the ideas are connected.
In other words, the second group comprises those trains of
successive members in which one idea is allowed to suggest
others just as may happen, while the third group includes
those trains whose successive parts are intentionally controlled
so as to lead up to some end.

The Processes which Produce these Groups. — We
liave now to study the processes by which the elements are
united into these three groups. Still speaking in a rough and
general way, we may say that Non voluntary Attention is the
power active in producing what we may call the simultaneous
group ; Association, that in producing the group of successive

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NON- VOLUNTARY ATTENTION.

uncontrolled parts, and Voluntary Attention, the source of the
group of successive parts purposely controlled and arranged.

§1. NON-VOLUNTARY ATTENTION.

Meaning of the Expression. — By attention is mean

simply the dwelling of the mind upon some presentation or some
factor of a presentation so as to give it prominence. The term
' non-voluntary/ implies that the mind is turned upon this
subject-matter simply on account of the attractiveness of the
matter, not by reason of any intervention on the part of the will.
It is an act of attention when a student keeps his mind fixed
upon his lessons in spite of all distracting circumstances; of
voluntary axitnixon if it requires a definite resolve of the will to
effect it, of non-voluntary if the subject naturally arouses and
absorbs his mind. It is evident that non-voluntary attention
must always precede voluntary. A baby * notices ' (and this
' noticing ' is precisely what is meant by attention) not because
any appeal is made to his reason and will to keep his mind di-
rected that one way, but because what is noticed interests and
excites him. We have to study the conditions and the effects
of non-voluntary attention.

1. Conditions- — The condition under which any presenta-
tion awakens nonvoluntary attention is that it be interesting.
The attention is aroused, awakened, drawn, attracted by some
intrinsic interests in the presentation. We may possibly give
attention to what does not interest us, but only if we force our-
selves by power of will to do so ; and such an act of volition is,
of course, not non-voluntary attention. Interest may, however,
be either natural or acquired.

(1) Natur?3ll Interest.— By this we mean the value which
the presentation has in itself, apart from all connection with
other factors of mind. For example, the color of an orange
may interest a child either because the color is pleasing in
itself, or because it suggested the pleasant taste of the fruit.
In the former case only is it natural or spontaneous interest.

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NONVOLUNTARY ATTENTION.

Quantity and Tone. — The constituent elements of natural
interest are quantity and tone of sensation, including under
quantity what we have previously classed as intensity and ex
tensity. If there are presented at the same time, two colors or
two sounds, the infant mind will always listen to the loudest
sound and look at the brightest color. In the early development
of intelligence, the impression that beats upon the doors of con-
sciousness with the greatest force is the one admitted. The
tone of a sensation we have already explained to mean the
agreeable or disagreeable property which accompanies it. The
organic sensations, hunger, thirst, fatigue, satisfaction, etc.,
possess the greatest amount of emotional accompaniment, and
hence, as the most interesting, absorb attention almost wholly
in the early life of the infant. To say that a baby knows
when he is hungry, when he knows nothing else, is simply to
say that the sensation of hunger will attract his attention when
nothing else will do so. Gradually the mind is freed Irom its
bondage to organic affections. The pleasures that go along
with tastes, smells, muscular activity, and finally with hearing
and sight, attract the mind to notice all the elements which are
admitted through the " five gateways of knowledge."

(2) Acquired Interest. — As suggested, a presentation
may acquire value in virtue of its surroundings. The sight of
the cup from which a baby takes his food has at first perhaps
not nearly so much interest for him as other more brightly
colored objects about him, but its association with the satis-
faction of his appetite gradually lends it an attractiveness ot
its own. We may reduce the conditions which lead to the
acquisition of interest to two \\t.2A%— familiarity and novelty.

Familiarity. — Originally all experiences aside from the
influence of quantity and tone stand upon the same level, all
are equally noticed and hence equally unnoticed. There is no
perspective, no foreground and no background. We have a
somewhat similar experience when we are thrown into surround-

PSYCHICAL PROCESSES.

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Iiiiif

ings wholly new. Everything looks alike to us ; even the faces
about us seem all made from one pattern. "We do not know
where to begin," we say. That is, nothing stands out so as to
attract our attention to itself. We have to get our bearings.
Nothing aids us so much in this process as the constant recur-
rence of certain features. Those factors which are repeated
stand out more prominently. The fi^miiiar occurrences are
separated from their surroundings, and become interesting from
this very fact. Similarly we may suppose that the fog which
surrounds the intellectual life of an infant lifts from about those
persons and objects which are always recurring in his experience,
his j)arents, brothers and sisters, nurse, cradle, articles used in
connection with his food, etc. They become centres of interest,
and in acquiring this interest they fix the mind's attention and
gain distincttiess.

Novelty. — While in general it is the familiar that interests
and draws us to itself, yet familiarity may be carried to the point
where it ceases to caii out the mind's activity. Those who live
p'^ar a cataract or in a mill cease to pay attention to the noise.
It has nothing to interest them. Similaily, we do not notice
the familiar ticking of the clock in our room, the pressure of
clothing upon our body, or an even temperature about us.
Qualities which are the first to strike a stranger we never notice
in our most intimate friends. It is a common proverb that
familiarity deadens and dulls. Now in these cases nothing
arouses the sleepy attention so soon as change. Let the. water-
fall change its noise, let the mill stop, let the clock cease tick-
ing, let the unnoticed feature of our friend alter, and at once
we are all attention.

Familiarity and Novelty in Connection.— The truth
of the matter seems to be that it is neither the familiar nor the
novel which interests in itself, but one in connection with the
other. It is the old in the midst of the new — as when a traveller
hears his own language in a foreign country — or the novel in the

NON VOLUNTARY AT'lENTION.

•9

niidst of the customary — as when we hear a strange tongue
spoken in our own country — that attracts attention. That which
IS wholly novel \i2i% no points of connection with our experience
and hence cannot interest, while we have become so habituated
to the wholly familiar that we find notliing in it which seems
worth dwelling upon.

2. Effects of Non- Voluntary Attention.— Atten-
tion is both positive and negative in its workings. That is to
say, the mind dwells upon some presentations only because
it draws away from others. Imagine a light equally diffusiid
over a room, then imagine all the light focussed in some one
point. It is evident that the rest of the room will grow dark as
this one point grows bright. So it is with attention. Attention
has its aspect of exclusion as well as of inclusion.

Effects of Withdrawal of Attention.— It follows

that what is not attended to is not brought into consciousness.
Not everything that comes before the senses, or even that
affects them strongly, comes to be knowledge. There is an
indefinite throng of stimuli — sights, sounds, pressures, etc.,
knocking for entrance into consciousness, which never come
within its gates, because, the mind not attending to them, no
mental activity is brought to bear upon them. We are almost
always unaware of our organic sensations, of the contact of
our clothing with our bodies, of the surrounding temperature,
etc., because these things do not interest us enough to attract
our minds. One may sit before an open window and have
ihe scenes of a busy street pictured upon the retina of one's
eye, and yet be conscious of nothing that is going on. The
withdrawal of attention may go so far that the mind can
almost bid defiance to external stimulus. Soldiers, wounded in
battle, but not aware of pain, Archimedes so engaged in
geometrical study as to be unconscious of the battle at his
very doors, will serve as illustrations.
Positive Effects of Attention.— On the other hand, to

PSYCHICAL PROCESSES.

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attend to a presentation is to hold it before the mind, to gel ii
within the range of psychical activity and thus to bring into con-
sciousness what would otherwise remain outside. There is no
fact of which we are aware, that would not serve as illustration
of this principle, but perhaps instances of unusual ability in
various directions show it in clearest light. Workers in steel
are said to distinguish half-a dozen shades of color in what
appears to one non-expert as a uniform glow. That is to say,
by the cultivation of attention they are enabled to bring to
consciousness what entirely escapes others. Similarly, tea-
tasters, etc., perceive a great number of differences, where
others would get only one impression. A trained botanist will
see more in a casual glance through a microscope than one
untrained would discover by careful searching. The power of
attending, in other words, is equivalent to the power of 6ew^
conscious.

The Uniting Power of Attention.— Not only does
attention distinguish what were otherwise unperceived, but it
unites. Its general law, the basis of all mental progress what-
ever, is that all dements attended to by one and the same cut oj
mind become members of one idea.

Consequently all elements not taken in by this act, must be
grasped by another movement of attention, and hence become
another idea. In other words, a single idea — a single concrete
state of consciousness — means whatever has been laid hold of
by one act of attention. It makes no difference to this one
idea whether its parts are many or few, whether they are
naturally coherent or the reverse. Here then we have the first
process by which the mass of sensations pouring in upon us is
given form and unity.

I. Illustration that a J\/ umber of Elements are Capable oj
Union in One Idea. — We may best begin with a simple exam-
ple. Suppose twenty dots placed before the eye but arranged
very irregularly. The mind in order to take thera in may be

NON-VOLUNTARY ATTENTION.

3»

obliged to pay attention to one at a time — to count them. In
tills case, there will be twenty separate ideas involved. Now
suppose them rearranged into four groups of five dots each,
each group being regular in itself, but not symmetrical with the
others. Here we shall have just the same amount apprehend-
ed by four acts of attention, and hence with four resulting
ideas. If these four groups are now formed into one symmetri-
cal whole the mind will apprehend all in one idea, although
there is really just as much there to be seen, as when the act
of apprehension involves twenty ideas. This illustrates the fact
that it mikes no difference to the unity of an idea, how much
there is in it, provided only it can all be taken in by one act of
attention.

Application of this Illustration.— This abstract illus-
tration may be made more definite by supposing a fact substi-
tuted for each dot, and relations between these facts for the
spatial arrangement of the dots. Twenty isolated facts will
require as many acts of attention to apprehend them and hence
will produce as many distinct ideas, liut group the facts under
one law— as various astronomical facts are connected m the law
of gravitation — and the mind at once binds them together into
the unity of one idea grasped and carried in one act. The
s^me result occurs when no law is known, if any kind of con-
nection can be made out between the various facts. Just as
the mird, for the sake of ease in apprehending and economy in
' arrying impressions, will attempt to form some kind of group-
ing amon^' the twenty dots, even where none is apparent, so it
will strive to unite separate ideas by making connections, even
if none exist upon the surface. This brings us to the second
fact mentioned, that elements having no actual coherence will
form parts of one idea, if they can be attended to at once.

a. Illustration that Unlike Elements are Capable of Union
in one idea. — It may be said indeed that for the union of various
elements in one idea, it is sufllicient for these elements to exist

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PSYCHICAL PROCESSES.

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at the same time, without there being any real connection what-
ever among them. This is without doubt the original source of
union of the elements presented in sensation, simple co-exist-
ence in time. At a later period, the mind, of course, reviews
the connections which it has formed earlier in life, and rejects
those whose parts do not seem really to belong together. For
example, an infant originally connects the smell, taste and sight
of an orange, not because he sees that these qualities are really
component parts of the orange (on the contrary, it is only by
connecting them that he gets the idea of the orange at all) but
simply because these sensations are given to him at the same
time. Afterwards he finds that there is mure than a mere con-
nection of time between these sensations, that they are what
we call really connected, and he confirms his original act of
union, while in other cases, he may reverse his first act of con-
nection. The important thing to notice here is that whenever
there is no obstacle offered, the mind connects whatever it can
connect, even upon so slight a basis as occurrence at the same
l)oint of time. Many of the popular fallacies and superstitions
have arisen from a tendency to give a real connection to events
which are only casually connected; in this we have an explanation
of the common fallacies described by the Latin phrase post koc
ergo pi of ter hoc — " after this, therefore in consequence of this " —
With the new moon a change in the weather has occurred,
therefore the moon influences the weather ; with the appearance
of a comet, a war or a pestilence has broken out, therefore
comets portend disaster, etc. For many generations the people
of St. Kilda believed that the arrival of a ship in the harbour
caused an epidemic of influenza, and clever men assigned
many ingenious reasons why the ship should produce " colds in
the head " among the population. At last it occurred to some
bold thinker that the arrival of the ship might not be the cause
of the distemper, but that both might be the effect of a common
cause, and then it was remembered that a ship could enter the
harbour only when a strong northeast wind was blowing. ,

EDUCATIONAL PRINCIPLES.

Further Illustrations. — Two or three simple examp'vet may nuke
the iiiiiiciplos clearer, A French psychologist tells of a little boy who
when ^'oing under a railway bridge happened to think of a toy horse which
had bt'en given him, and said " my horse." For a long time after that he
never went under anything whatever without saying " my horse." Although
there was absolutely no real connection between the two facts, they were
coiiiieclcd for him in one idea simply because he had attended to both at
tlie same time. Another example : a child who once noticed that a railway
train stopped just as some one m )ved the catch in a window of the car,
supposed for a long time after, that all trains were stopped by means of the
window catch. These examples, trivial as they are, serve none the less to
ilhistrate the law upon which all mental acquisition is originally founded —
r.amely, that whatever sensations occur at the same time can be attended to
by one and the same act unless there is some actual opposition between
them, and. since they are grasped in one act of attention, they become
members of one idea. Thus it is tbrit sensations in themselves fragmentary
and separate become united into the simultaneous wholes of co<exUtent
parts, which constitute so large a part of our actual experience.

Educational Principles.

(i) The Necessity of Activity. Perhaps the chief point for
tlie teacher to keep in mind is the necessity of some activity of
attention on the part of the child from the very first and in
every operation. No amount of presentation, however skillful ;
no amount of repetition, however persistent ; no amount of
explanation, however clear — is of any avail, unless the child's
attention, the one condition of learning which cannot be dis-
pensed with, is secured. That there is attention, simply means
that the child's mind is working upon the subject attended to ;
and that the child is non-attentive, simply means that there is
no connection between his mind and the subject. In the
latter case, the teacher and pupil might as well be in different
worlds so far as any educational relation between them is
concerned.

(2) Possible Errors. — There is a tendency at present to
enipliasize the need of sense presentation, of intuition and of
object lessons in teaching. This is well; the need cannot be

PSYCHICAL PROCESSES.

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over-emphasized, provided it be remembered that placing the
objects before the senses, no more insures their being appre-
hended, to say nothing of their right apprehension, than
putting food before one insures its being eaten, to say nothing
of its being digested and assimilated. There must be an
activity proceeding from the mind ; this may be stimulated
but cannot be produced by anotiier. Here, we have occasion to
renew the caution referred to in the first chapter against the error
of over-estimating the part — important as it undoubtedly is —
which the teacher can play in education. There is a dis-
position on the part of some teachers to substitute the work of
presentation and explanation of material for the more difficult,
because less mechanical and more personal task, of getting the
pupils' mind at work upon the material.

3. Non-voluntary Attention must be Secured Indirectly, — This
attention cannot be gained however by the mere directmg of
the child "to pay attention." Such an injunction, at the stage
of development now c(msidered; must be meaningless. Attention
must be attracted, not forced. The subject matter, in other
words, must be made of interest. This interest once obtained,
attention follows naturally and even inevitably. The teacher
therefore can hardly overestimate the importance of Interest:
it is the beginning of non-voluntary attention, this leads to dis-
crimination and association, this to voluntary attention, and this
again is the test and condition )f intellectual development.

4. It can hardly need repealing that interesting does not mean amusing.
It does not mean that the subject must be surrounded with factitious
attractions in order to appeal to some individual taste of the pupil. Such
a conception wrongs and belittles the intelligence of the child. Every
child, not actually stupid, takes delight in the activity of his mind as he
does in the activity of his body, and to render a subject interesting means
only to make it capable of calling forth this natural activity. To rely upon
such sources of interest, as aredirected, not to the native and simple delight
in mental activity, but to awakening various outside pleasures, is like think*
ing that a child's natural hunger cannot be trusteu to make him eat appro-
priate food, but that his palate must be artifically stimulated and tickled.

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EDUCATIONAL PRINCIPLES.

Two wrongs are thus committed. The child's true intellectual powers are
left in abeyance, and an abnormal faculty, requiring constantly increasing
artificial stimulus, is created.

5. Use of the Play-impulse. — On the other hand, in early
training good use may be made of the "play-impulse" by a
proper selection of work which the child will take delight in —
for example, some of the ^ifts and occupations of ilie kinder-
garten. Between such work and the play-impulse there is nn
available relation, as the success of kindergarten methods clearly
proves. The principles of the kindergarten, and some of its
methods - or at least modified forms of them — may be applied
in all primary education. Why not awaken attention by
gratifying the hunger of the senses — of the c) e for seeing, of the
ear for hearing, of the hand for doing? There is scarcely a
child that will not become deep') interested in Building, Folding,
Pricking, Stick-laying, Drawing, etc He will therefore give the
best of non-voluntary attention to what he is doing, and thus
will begin to form habits both mental and physical which must
prove of high value in his future development.

6. Methods 0/ Awak-nitig Noriial Interest. — Normal attrac-
tion 's such as naturally calls forth in some degree the attention
of every healthy mind. No specified rules for creating it can
here be given. That belongs partly to pedagogy, in a narrow
sense, and still more to the personal power of the teacher. But
notice may again be called to the fact that interest depends
largely upon familiarity and novelty and their intermixture in
due proportion. To thrust something new upon a child, and
taVf^ Tt po'is to bring out points of likeness between this new

I those already somewhat familiar, is to repel attention.
)\\ e to dwell upon a topic or illustration worn thread-
b will give the same result. Connections should be made
between matters and interests familiar outside of school, and
iiiose taken up wif'^n, as well as between various school subjects.
A boy may somet es be interested in aritbmetic by connecting

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PSYCHICAL PROCESSES.

a problem with his father's business, etc. Interest in history or
in geography may be called tv^rth in connection with contempor-
aneous events in which the pu.jils have or may be made to have
a lively interest. It is a great mistake in all ways, but in none
more than in this matter of attention, to shut off the school
from the outside world.

(7) Further Sii:^.:^estiflns. — {a) Tlie «<frt//7r aspect of attention,
the shutting out of impressions which would call away the
mu:d from the matter in hand, should be looked after. Before
the development of voluntary attention the mind follows the
greater of two interests, and if this should happen not to be
connected with the study, the latter will suffer. {b) In this
connection there may be noticed certain physical conditions of
attention, depending on the child's health and vigour, and on
his surroundings. Attention, even in its early stage, means
mind-tension, and this, again, means a severe demand on
nervous energy ; it cannot therefore be expected that a sick
or weary child can show much activity of attei:*ion even for a
usually interesting topic /gain, when there is a feeling of
discomfort (or ■^ry often something worse) arising from bad
lighting, heating, : ntilation, seating, etc., it is extremely difficult
to arouse the attention of the child and keep it fixed in a
definite direction, {c) The unifying aspect of attention must
also be kept in mind. To present too many subjects in suc-
cession, to use too many illustrations, too many explanations,
to hurry from one point to another is a successful mode of
producing the habit of mind-wandering, {d) Again, since the
young mind is apt to connect thmgs o xurring at the same time,
whether they should be united or not, great pains must be
taken to select just the points which are important, and to
present them in their proper relation, {e) Finally, it may be
mentioned that while questioning has a certain justification as a
necessary means of reaching important ends in education, its
chief justification u in its power of arousing attention and

ASSOCIATION.

keeping it rightly directed. A question is a challenge to
attention. And, while disconnected, mechanical, unprepared
questions gradually weaken what power of attention originally
exists, orderly, progressive and suggestive questions infallibly
strengthen it. The chief thing to be aimed at, in fact, is to
c ultivate in the pupil the habit of asking himself questions.
Tills ensured, the power of holding and controlling attention
from within (voluntary attention in other words) is secured.
With the remi;rk, therefore, that the end of the training of non-
voluntary attention is to lead up to voluntary attention, we
may leave this subject.

§2. ASSOCIATION.

What is meant by Succession of Ideas.— It has

already been stated, that .Association is the means by which a
successive train of ideas arises. But, by succession, is not
meant simply that presentations follow after one another.
Successive acts of attention would produce a succession of
ideas, on the principle already explained, that each act of at-
tention results in a distinct idea. What is meant, is rather that
there grows out of some presentation or idea, another idea,
and out of this a third, and so on, the whole process going on
without the intervention of any new presentation. This is
generally colled the association of ideas. A standard illustra-
tion is that of Hobbes, (born 1588) one of the first to call
attention to the subject. In a company, when the conversa
tion turned upon the subject of the civil war in England
between the Stuarts and the Puritans, some one asked the
value of a Roman Denarius. This question, he says, appeared
abrupt, but upon reflection, he traced the following thread of
associations : Civil war, the king, the treacherj' of those who
surrendered him, the treachery of Judas Iscariot, the sum of
money received, its value. We shall take up : First, the con-
ditions of Association ; second, its varieties \ and third, its
rtsultt.

PSYCHICAL PROCESSES.

(i) Conditions of Association, — Why is it that ideas enter
into successive trains, each suggesting the next ? The answei
in a general way is that ideas which have been once connected
together have the power of calling one another up. Association
is thus seen to depend upon non-voluntary attention. In the
latter, as we have learned, as many parts as possible are made
one. Now, if one of these parts is presented, there is a
tendency for it to complete itself by suggesting the parts not
actually presented. These parts are said to be re-presented.
Suppose, to take a very simple example, that I have heard
a celebrated orator deliver a speech ; by my acts of attention
at the time, the speech and the speaker became indissolubly
united into one idea. Now, years afterward, I read this ora-
tion and there recurs to my mind the idea of the speaker as he
delifered it- The reason is evident ; the speech is not an inde-
pendent idea in my mind ; it is only one part of a larger idea,
and it completes itself by suggesting its other member.

Integration and Red*integration« —The two acts of presentation and

of representation are sometimes called integration and red-integration.
The term integration signifies as the etymology implies, that the original
presentation was a whole formed oat of parts ; red-intei;ration is a second
act of integration based upon the first. Thus, when the sight of a flower
recalls the place where it was picked, when the perception of some token
suggests the person who gave it, when a Latin word calls up its English
equivalent— in all these cases we have instances of one part of a whole idea
completing itself by calling up the part with which it was formerly connect-
ed. It may be said, therefore, that the conditions of association are, firsts
original union in one idea by an act of attention, and second, the occurrence
of one part of this idea, which then completes itself by calling up the other
parts.

2. Varieties of Association. — There are two kinds of associ-
ation, know as association by the principle of contiguity^ and by
the principle of similarity. They are also known as external
and internal association. By the principle of continuity is
meant that whatever ideas or objects have been conjoined in
^au or in time have the power of redintegrating one another.

(va

ASSOCIATION.

In other words, objects existing by the side of one another,
events following one another, will become so associated that
one calls up another. By similarity is meant that whatever
ideas or objects are like one another, whether this liiceness be
in appearance, in meaning, in mode of use, in sound, or in any
other respect, have the power of recalling one another.

Examples of Contiguity. —An instance of contiguity
in space is the following: If I think of the post office, I may
be lead to think of the ij.djoining building, this may suggest
the next and so on. Were 1 sufficiently familiar with the whole
city, this process of suggestion might go on till I had called
before me all its buildings. Contiguity in time is illustrated by
the fact that a note of music will suggest a bar, the bar the air,
the air the entire tune, etc. One letter of an alph ibet suggests
the next and so on; a line of a familiar poem suggests the
succeeding line, this the next until the whole poem is repeated.
We think of something that occurred yesterday, and at once
there arises in succession the entire day's doings. A visiting
friend once asked a little Irish boy his age he replied, "I was
seven years old, the day the i)ig died;" evidently what to him
were two important events had been associated because they
had occurred at the same time.

Examples of Similarity. — Seeing a portrait calls up
the original. One face suggests another which it resemble.s.
The apple-blossom calls up the rose ; the locust flower the pea,
etc. Napoleon the Great may suggest Julius Caesar; while
Cicero calls up Demosthenes. The idea of a straight line may
suggest rectitude; a hammer call up a hatchet. The word
frater will call up the words Bruder and brother, etc. In some
of these cases, there is similarity in appearance, in others, of
meaning, or use, or sound, or of mere analogy. No limits can
be put to the use of the principle. Wherever there is perceived
t(^ be the slightest similarity between two ideis, then one idea
has the power of summuiiiiig the other into consciousness.

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PSYCHICAL PROCESSES.

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Association by Contrast.— A remarkable extension of

the principle of similarity is seen in the fact that opp^sites call
each other up ; so vice suggests virtue, night day, joy sorrow,
a dwarf a giant, a valley a mountain, etc., etc. It may seem
absurd to call this mutual suggestion of each other by opposites
a case of similarity, but such it clearly is. Vice and virtue are
simply the extremes of moral conduct, night and day of the
whole astronomical day, dwarf and giant of human stature, etc
That is, there is a common underlying basis, and the contrast
only emphasizes this identity of basis.

External and Internal Association.— As already mentioned,

•siociation by conli^uity is sometimes called external^ that by similarity
intetnaL The reason is as follows. In contiguous association both the
suggesting and the suggested idea have been parts of one idea, but the bond
of union was an external one, i>., it did not arise from any «j«///a/ con-
nection between them. When, t.g.^ a certain idta brings into consciousness
the place in the page where first I read it, the idea and place are connected,
but only outwardly. Each would be unchanged if this connection had not
occurred. The union does not affect the internal structure of either. Not
so in association by similarity. When the sight of a portrait is followed in
consciousness by the idea of its original, the bond of union is just the
internal quality of likeness, and without this quality, neither the face nor
its copy would be what it is. The connecting tie enters therefore into th*e
very make-up of the ideas.

3. Results of Association,— y[.^Ti\aX Order and Free-
dom. — The first result has already been remarked upon. It
is the formation of a train of ideas, each member of which grows
from the preceding member by some rule. Continuity, sequence,
some semblance, at least, of order and of regularity thus come
into psychical life. Ideas are no longer isolated, but shaped
into sequences having some common bearing:, some unity.
While in non-volunlary Attention the mind is al ays called into
action from without 2S\^ thus is subject to whatever is presented,
in association, the mind forms a series of ideas from within.
The succession of ideas does not depend any longer upon the
order in which external objects affect us, but upon the internal

ASSOCIATION.

train of suggestion. It may fairly be said, therefore, thi«t
anotlier result of association is to free the mind from bondage
to its sensations, impulses, etc., and to allow it a certain inde
pendence of its own.

Superiority of Association by Similarity.— Associ-
ation based upon internal similarity assists the development of
mental power and freedom much more than that based upon
accidental conjunction in space or time. One might associate
for example, a dog with a wolf because he had seen both
together, or because their pictures or names had been conjoined
in a book. Or, he might associate them because of some
common principle which he recognized to be involved in the
structure of both. It is evident that in the first case (associ-
ation by contiguity) there is no reason in the association ; it
might just as well have happened between other ideas ; while in
the latter case (association by similarity) there is meivihig in the
association and it may lead to something beyond itself — to a
scientific comprehension of the relation of the two animals.
Similarly an historical event may be associated with some
part of a page or chart (spatial contiguity) or it may be associ-
ated with other events of a like kind. The former association
has no significance the latter stimulates the mind to reflect and
possibly to discover some historical law.

Formation of Habits. — 'Ihe point made thus far is that
the occurrence of an association tends to give the mind an order
aud freedom in its ideas and aciiviiits independent of the sense-
impressions which are con>.tantly beating upon consciousness.
This is especially true if an association of ideas or actions is so
often repeated that a habit is formed. By a habit is meant such
a thoroughly formed tr.iin of associations that if one member of
the train comes into consciousness the other members follow almost
inevitably, and 7vithout any intervention on the part of will or of
consciousness. For example, we now have the habit of standing
erea and of waJking. We do not need to pay careful attention

fill

PSYCHICAL PROCESSES.

to every detail and stage of the complex movements involved
in these acts. It is enough that we begin the movement, the
rest goes on of itself. But it was not always so. One need
only watch a young child learning to walk in order to see that
he has to form the associations between all successive move-
ments of his muscles ; that he has to repeat these successive
associations carefully and an indefinite number of times. But
these associations repeated often enough make habit, and the
once difficult acts are performed automatically, #>., without the
special intervention of the wt'/l

Active and Passive Habits.— Habits are distinguished
as active and as passive. By passive habit is meant simply
that we are habituated or accustomed to anything. It implies
no more than ability to hold our own so that we are not con-
quered by external impressions or activities. Active habit is
more than this. It implies ability to react against the external
impression, to make it of use to ourselves. It is skill, capacity,
trained ability in some direction. Passive habit is illustrated
by the binding force of a custom upon us ; active habit, by the
dexterity, quickness and accuracy of a well-trained meclianic.

Function of Habit. — Habit serves a two-fold purpose in
mental life. In the first place ^ it forms a psychical mechanism
or piece of machinery by means of which the soul both holds its
own and asserts itself against the pressure of surrounding cir-
cumstances ; and, in the secotid place, it allows the Intelligence
and the Will time and opportunity to apply themselves to the
mastery of new and higher acts.

First End. — In the early period of psychical existence,
the mind is at the mercy of its impressions. It can understand
nothing of its surroundings, and can execute no purposes,
indeed, it is not capable of forming purposes. It is i\\q forma-
tion of habits more than anything else that lifts the infant from
this state of subjection. If he forms an intellectual habit —
say that of noticing the circumstances under which his food is

ASSOCIATION.

given him — there is at least one respect in which he stands
above the chaos which in other regards overpowers liim. If
he forms a habit of will— say of walking, of controlling the
movements of his hands, of putting sounds together into arti-
culate speech — he is in these respects, the master of his impulses
instead of being mastered by them.

Habit is Self-Oontrol.— A habit, in other words, is a
mode of self-control in some definite direction. It is, as is often
said, second fmture, that is, it is a mode of self-control so
thoroughly acquired that it asserts itself spontaneously and with-
out effort whenever there is any occasion for its use. It is by
habit that the body becomes a fit and accurate instrument for
the soul. It is through habit that the soul impresses itself upon
the body, and trains it into a servant which is ever working for
useful ends, without waiting for special instructions from its
master. Thus, when the mind is thinking about other things,
the required act is still exet uted — as when one talks, or walks,
or reads, or plays a musical instrument, while occu[)ied with
some problem. The influence of habit is seen most clearly in
the capacity of the body to perform certain com])licated acts
without any direction from the mind except in initialing the
process, but there are also purely mental habits — ways of think-
ing or of feeling, as we ordinarily call them. 'I'he artist has one
mental habit, the scientific man another, the teacher another,
the statesman another, and so on. Each has certain kinds of
mental trains into which the mind falls naturally and spontan-
eously and in which it is little or no effort to keep thinking,
because the lines of association are so well established.

Second End. — If, as suggested, a habit may be fairly said
to execute itself, requiring intelligence and will merely to start
it, then clearly, the formation of habits relieves the mind from
the necessity of any supervision of such actions and leaves it
free to devote itself to other matters. For exam[)le, when a
child is learning to walk (that is, when he is forming an a^soci-

EDUCATIONAL PRINCIPLES.

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ation between certain impulses) he must give his entire mind to
it; his mental processes cannot occupy themselves with anything
else. But the habit once formed, it seems to be taken entirely
out of the mental sphere ; the mind can think of other things
as much as if the walking were not going on at all ; and so with
every other habit in the degree of its perfection. If one counts
the time given to purely mechanical acts, like dressing, eating,
walking, the articulation of sounds, etc., and then supposes that
the mind had to give itself specially to such acts -to the ex-
clusion of all else — one can see what a boon to us is the power
of forming habits which regulate themselves.

Educational Principles.— Following the idea origin-
ally laid down that the teacher's work is to assist and regulate
the normal psychical processes of the learner's mind, it is
evident that the associative activities demand the closest atten-
tion and wisest care of the educator. Their use is fundamental
in every sUige of mental growth and hence they may be helpfully
discussed with reference to their employment in three stages,
i\\Q primary^ the secondary and the higher.

I. The First Stage is Mechanical. — It should be kept in mind
by the teacher that in the earlier years it is chiefly the mechanical
aspects of association that come into play. That is to say, the
association is made, for the most part, by the mind acting as a
machine would act, without consciousness of any reason for
making the association, while the result is mainly to give the
mind a machine-like power of performing the same operation
in the future. The child who learns to read, for example, can
have no clear conception of what he is really doing, of the
mental processes called into activity, or of the ultimate value
of what he is acquiring. From his standpoint, there is merely
a mechanical putting together or associating of words, sentences,
etc.. And of course, liie result is not, at this stage, the truly
culturing effect that comes from later reading ; it is simply the

EDUCATIONAL PRINCIPLES.

acquisition of a new capacity or habit, making it more easy to
form similar associations in the future.

2. Re (petition the Principle of the MechaniccU Stage, — The
mechanism, the capacity for performing the act spontaneously
and without effort, is built up through repetition. There is
in primary education absolutely no substitute for going over a
thing again and again. The processes of idtal assimilation,
much more those of rational comprehension, are undeveloped.
I he principal way of appeal to the mind is, therefore, the

systematic repetition of an association, of a connection of facts,
ideas or words, until a capacity, a habit is acquired in this
direction. There is one dictum of modern pedagogy which,
under proper limitations, finds its application here: Learn to
do by doing. This principle is by no means co-extensive with
the whole of education, and is in fact much abused by some
educational "reformers," but it is the basis of all early training.
Reading can be learned only by reading; spelling only by
spelling; writing only by writing; the fundamental operations
of number only by performing them, and so on. The teacher
must aim, therefore, at thoroughness and continuity of repetition,
and while having constantly in view the dawning intelligence of
the child, must avoid undue reliance upon the rationale of the
subject matter, and undue appeal to a reason as yet undeveloped.

3. Discipline the Object of the Mechanical Sta';e. — The teacher
must remember, however, that no piece of machinery has its
end-in-itself ; its value is in what it can do. To make even
early mental training purely mechanical is as if a weaver were to
regard it as his sole business to keep his loom in motion wholly
irrespective of making any cloth. While the process of
early education must be largely mechanical, its spirit must be
intelligent and rational. There is a temptation in the practical
work of teaching to forget this, and to allow the whole work to
become one of dead routine. How shall the teacher avoid this
and yet not make premature appeal to an immature reason ?

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PSYCHICAL PROCESSES.

By remembering that the end of the mechanical training is
disciplint.

What is Meant by Discipline- — Discipline, like habit, has its active
and its passive side. It aims to make the mind at once capable of rtsistaitee
and capable o{ positive effort. A mind is disciplined just in the degree in
which it can hold its own against both the pressure and the distracting soli-
citations of sensations and impulses, and in the degree in which it has the
power of systematically acting upon them, so as to shape them for its own
ends. The effect of discipline, in short, is to give the mind the capacity oj
acting steadily, easily and efficiently to the accomplishment 0/ some definit*
work, while at the same time it skives porver to act in neio aud untried rvtiys^
The object of teaching elementary arithmetic, for example, is to give ability
to ascertain the simpler relations of number easily, quickly and accurately,
and at the same time, to enable the mind to act with greater strength and
efficiency in all directions. Now, if this end is kept in mind, there is no
danger that a mechanical spirit will pervade the teaching, no matter how
mechanical the processes in themselves.

4. Leant to do by Knowing. — It may be well to warn the
teacher against the present tendency to misai)ply the maxim
quoted in the foregoing paragraph — "learn to do by doing.'
It is true under certain conditions and is chiefly applicable in
the primary stage of learning, but there have arisen educa-
tional evangelists who preach it as a universal principle. And
thus, what is but a partial truth even in primary education, be-
comes a positive error in advanced stages. " Learn to speak
by speaking " — therefore no formal grainm.ir. " l.earn to
cypher by cyphering " — therefore, no science of arithmetic
" Learn to teach by teaching " — therefore no science of educa-
tion and no professional training of teachers, and so on
through a long list of ** practical " inferences, which are plainly
at variance with a sound philosophy of education. " Let eye,
and ear, and hand, be thoroughly trained," by all means ; but
is there not Something behind these organs that makes the
seeing eye, the hearing ear and the forming hand ? Is the pro-
cess from without inward — first the hand, then the brain, then the
mind? Or is it from within outward — mind, brain, hand? Even in

EDUCATIONAL PRINCIPLES.

the elementary work of what we have called the mechanical
stage, thinking precedes doing ; in writing, for exatiipleithe child
must have an idea of the form of a letter before the hand can
reproduce it. It may be true that the making of the outward
forms aids the m'nd to more definite conceptions ; but from
the elementary to the highest stages, the ideal is before the
actual. " In aiming at a new construction," says Professor
Bain, ** we must clearly conceive what is aimed at.** And so, as
we have already intimated, the teacher must constantly keep in
view the growing intelligence of the child, helping him to form
clear ideas of the new *' constructions " aimed at, and teaching
him how these constructions— manual or otherwise — can be
mastered with the least waste of power. " Where we have a
very distinct and intelligible model before us, we are in a fair
way to succeed : in proportion as the ideal is dim and wavering,
we stagger and miscarry." It appears, then, that the maxim,
" learn to do by doing," is, after all, but the complement of a
wider and profounder principle learn to do by knowing.

5. The Secondary Stage is one of Forming Connections. —
While in the primary stage of reading (for example) there is
rather association of the activities involved in reading than of
the ideas read, in the secondary stage there is obvious and con-
scious connection of ideas. This is what constitutes "learning
lessons " in the narrower sense of that term. When a pupi I
sets himself to learn a geography or history lesson so as to be
able to recite upon it, he is intentionally forming certain con-
nections of ideas. The work of teachitig now changes its
aspect somewhat and the main emphasis should be put upon pre-
senting the proper connections of ideas, and upon assisting the
pupil to re-make them in his own mind.

6. The Associations in this Stage may be Sensuous or Ideal.
— As a pupil studies his lessons he may be forming associations
of either of two kinds. He may connect the successive visible

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41 PSYCHICAL PROCESSES

appearances of the words, or their successive sounds. This
is sensuous association, since it is only the auditory or visual
sensations that are thus formed into a series. Or, he may
connect tlie ideas conveyed by the sights and sounds ; this is
ideal association. Of course it is almost impossible to f(jrm one
kind of association without somewhat of the other also. Idiots
have been known to learn pages of matter in a language of
which they knew nothing, but no child of ordinary intelligence
could form such a string of purely sensuous associations. On
the other hand, one would hardly remember the ideas of a
book which one had read without some knowledge of the look
and sound of the successive sentences.

7. Sensuous Associations should be Subsidiary.— ^\\tx\ a
teacher compels pupils to recite lessons verbatim and calls
upon one to stop in the middle of a sentence and the next to
take it up at that point, he is doing his utmost to induce the
pupil to form only sensuous associations. In such cases there
is no proper activity of intelligence, and this fact alone con-
demns the method. Children's sense-organs are exceed-
ingly sensitive ; they are plastic to mere sights and sounds,
apart from vhat they mean, in a way that can be rivalled by
no adult. The teacher should, of course, api)cal to this ready
receptivencss of sense, but it should be used only as an instru-
ment or organ for forming connections between ideas.

8. *' Teach only What is Understood.*' — It is in this second stage of
the development o( association that the precept " A child should learn only
what he understands " has its application. In the earlier, mechanical stage,
it cannot be said to be true at all ; and in this second sta>^e, its true mean-
ing should be carefully noted. It does not mean what it literally says :
that a child should learn only what he comprehends. To underst.ind implies
to know scientifically ; to grasp the relations of a subject, and it is absurd
to demand this of one whose reason is yet undeveloped. In fact, the learn-
ing of a very large number of facts whose relations are not understood is the
sole condition of understanding them at a later time. What the dictum
really means is that the pupil should learn only that which has some mean'

EDUCATIONAL PRINCIPLES.

iw^— which appeals to him, which conveys something to him. It means
that he should connect ideas, the significance of things, rather than asso-
ciate memiin^^lcss sounds or sights. When a child learns, for example, that
arithmetic is " the science of the relations of numbers," it is impossible that
he sho'jid fully understand what thi.<5 means. But it is possible that the
definition should be somelliing more then a mere association of words —
that it should carry some si{;iiificance with it. And '.his it do«s, if there be
associations of tJeas, instead of sounds or of sights alone.

9. Importance of Habit. — The teacher can hardly exaggerate
the importance of the law of habit. Rousseau's saying " IiSmile
must be allowed to learn no habits save that of having none,"
is substantially false as a general principle of education. It is
much nearer the truth to say that education consists in the forma-
tion 0/ good habits — good habits of body and of mind. The
first act, mental or bodily is the starting point of habit ; it leaves
a tendency or disposition to recur, so that the second act is
easier than the first, the third e;isierthen the second, and so on,
till the performance of the act becomes a second nature. In
other words the power and tendency to follow any course of action
are measured by the frequemy with which the acts involved havt
been repj^aUd^ 'I his law, from which there is no escape, works in
all education — intellectual, moral, physical, and it works with
special power during the impressionable period of childhood.
.A-ssuming that the teacher is possessed of a living personality,
that in his little kingdom those great psychic forces, sympathy
and imitation, hold sway, it seems impossible to unduly exalt
the greatness of his work. Such a man will teach not by
precept alone, nor by example alone, but also by action : lazi-
ness, fickleness, disorder, uncouthness, slovenliness, irreverence,
etc., are not to be found in his pupils because they are not to be
found in him. On the other hand, dilligence, neatness, cleanli*
ness, order, politness, self-sacrifice, etc., become habits with the
pupils, because they are habits of the teacher.

10. The Third Stage is One of Culture, — As the first stage is
one of discipline, and the second of learning in the narrower

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PSYCHICAL PROCESSES.

sense of the word, the third is one of culture. Associations are
formed on the principle of similarity y and thus ideas are
grouped about a common centre. The tie in the case of associ-
ation by similarity is natural and intrinsic. While ideas associ-
ated by contiguity may be in themselves so foreign to each other
'd'\ to require a constant effort of mind to hold them together,
ideas united by similarity naluially grow into each other and
strengtl»en the mind. Ideas externally associated have been
compared to a bundle 01 food strapped upon the back; ideas
internally associated to food eaten and digested, and wrought
over into blood, bones and muscles ; the one may be a strain
upon mental fibre, the other adds to it. Rational comprehen-
sion grows naturally from the habit of forming associations by
similarity; the common principle constantly gains in distinctness
and Is finally seen in its relations to all the facts united by it.

Note. — Further upon Associauon, see Dewey's Psychology, pp. 90- 1 17.

§3. VOLiUNTARY ATTENTION.

Relations to Non-Voluntary.— Voluntary attention is
based upon non-voluntary, but dithers from it as a mental
movement directed with tixed purpose to attaining some future
ei\d, differs from one which moves here and there stimulated
simply by the chance attraction of the moment. For
example, we rr.ay suppose a botanist's attention called spon-
taneously to a flower by its vivid colouring. He may be attracted
the next moment to the contrasting colour of the foliage, and
so on. Or, he may observe something peculiar — say an appa-
ratus for catching insects. Now he has an end in view. He
will examine the plant scientifically to see the mechanism and
its mode of operation. He observes the struc ture of the
flower ; c .upares it with others of the same genus ; with other
plants that attract insects. He notices the insects that are
already caught and speculates upon the mode and purpose of
their capture. He sets himself to watch the plant and see the

VOLUNTARY ATTENTION.

exact method by which some insect is entangled. Non-volun
tary attention has passed into voluntary ; he no longer notices
because of some attractive trait in the flower, but because of
some end he wishes to reacli, something which he desires to
find out. Voluntary attention, in other words, is directed in
its movements with a view to getting at something, with refer-
ence to an end, while non-voluntary is based upon agreeable
qualities of the presentation.

Relation to Association.— Voluntary attention can
create no new material. It can deal only with the piesenta
tions afforded by non voluntary attention and the representa-
tions given by association. But while association by itself
goes on at hap hazarr" one idea suggesting another according
to any accidental bond of contiguity or of similarity, voluntary
attention lays hold of this train and manipulates, controls it for
its own end. It compels the train in one direction ; it shuts
off all suggested ideas which do not appear to lead towards
the desired end. Ideas which the mind feels to be helpful
towards the end are selected and empiiasized. Association
passes into voluntary attention when the ideas that form the
train suggest one another not by any accidental bond, but bv
some fundamental characteristic, some unity which gives them
a common bearing and end.

Example. — Take again the botanist who has noticed the
apparatus for catching insects. Following association alone he
might then think <d{ some former time when he had seen a
similar plant ; then of the a\\ ?nip where he saw it ; then o(
some luxuriant marsh in South America ; then of the wonderful
vegetation of the carboniferous era ; then of the making of
coal ; then of the present price of coal, and so on till he had
thought of any number of topics apparently dis( onnected, yet
each natun.Uy growing out of the preceding. Thus one oiten
finds himself wondering how he comes to be thinking of some

5»

PSYCHICAL PROCESSES.

thing so foreign to what his mind was occupied with a few
minutes before. 'I'he train of associations has led him on.
But voluntary attention prevents a succession of ideas having
no common significance. It keepss the suggested ideas of our
botanist, e.g. in harmony with iheend desind — knowledge of the
structure of such an apparatus, and of the process of its de-
velopment. Vohmtaiy attention is a train of associations con-
fined to some chaniul leading up to an unifitd result.

Early Forms of Voluntary Attention.— Voluntary
attention arises as soon as the mind becomes capable of forming
the conception of an cna which it finds interesting. Ideas no
longer come and go at random, but with reference to this end-
At first, voluntary attention is simply attraction of the mind by
a remote instead o{ a. present interest. For example, a boy forms
the idea of making a kite. As soon as he has this idea, his
thoughts and activities at once get a certain "iiiity. They are
controlled by the end which he desires to reach, and the end
suffices of itself to suggest those ideas which lead to it, and to
expel others. So, too, a boy may wish to find how a .story "tutns
out," and the interest in this end will keep his mental processes
engaged in reading, while otherwise they would be straying here
and there. There is simply an extension of non-voluntary
attention by interest in some future occurrences.

Higher Foims. — Kut cases occur in which the end inter-
ests but yet does not suffice of itself to control the train of
ideas. I'he boy, for example, who has made a kite, afterwards
sets himself to making a steam engine. Here the matter is so
complicated that the intermediate ste]>s must be separately
studied and their Halations tf) on^ aruther .ind to the whole, made
out. The end is foi gotten for the lime being, and attention is
given to all the steps leading up to it. So with a pupil solving
a problem in algel)ra. \\ hile the whole process is directed with
a view to reaching the end (find.pg the value oi x), yet it is the

VOLUNTARY AITENTION.

successive operations to be gone through that absorb attention.
In the earlier stages the end "takes care of itself," so to
speak; the mind need only be fixed upon the end and the
means to it naturally suggest themselves. But in the higher
forms, the laborious concentration of attention upon each step
is required. As the power of attention grows, the end becomes
more and more comprehensive until it requires the cooperation
of almost every pro( ess of the intellectual life. Thus we may
imagine Newton's attention to have been absorbed while he
was engaged with the discovery of the law of gravitation.

Activities Involved in Attention.— Attention may,
therefore, hv defined as a movement vf ideas unified and controll-
ed by the conception of some end. I'here are various activities
involved in this movement, of which three may be particularly
mentioned. Attention is (i) an adjusting, (2) a selecting and
(3) a r./ .:/,., activity.

I. Attention as Adjusting Activity. — In association the mind
is, in one sense, prosive. It seems to be a spectator before
whom ideas come and go. Its extreme form is reverie; the
mind drfts on from one topic to another. If we ask why this
happens, we see that it is because the mind lets ideas take their
course. It is not filled before-hand with some idea by which
it tests, and with reference to which it directs, other ideas. But
in attention, the mind comes to the train of ideas prepared. It
is not indifferent; it is hardly impartial. It has a controlling
and compelling interest in a given direction. It has a predis-
position, a trend, in favor of certain ideas. Hence it is watch-
ful, alert for everything favouring these ideas, while everything
not connected with this interest is passed over.

Illustration.— By way of illustration, consider a biologist
engaged in studying the life history of an animal under a
microscope. He cannot allow his mind to follow up any train

.I'ii

ii-ii
m

:ii-l

i ;;

PSYCHICAL PROCESSES.

of ideas that suggests itself ; he must be indifferent to all sights
and sounds unconnected with the animal observed. He must
notice the sliglitest change there; must connect this with what
goes before, and what comes after. It is evident, therefore, tiiat
whatever corresponding ideas he has already in mind must be
held prepared, even in tension, to go out and meet whatever
corresponds to tiiem in the object. The mind at-tends, is
stretched towards what is coming, to anticipate it, to meet it
more than half-way. Hence the fatigue accompanying any
prolonged activity of a'lv^ntion. Ideas are not allowed to
follow their own c.ourse; but a certain group of ideas must be
held to the front by a special mental effort^ to react on the new
presentations.

Why Called Adjusting ?— It is clear, therefore, why
the activity is called an adjusting one. An empty mind cannot
attend to anything ; a mind ernpty in a given direction can-
not attend in that direction. It must have some idea, however
vague and general, of what is coming, of what is to be looked
for. The more a mind knows of a certain subject, the
more quickly and accurately it can pay attentior/, to anything
new in that subject. Attention is thus the bringing to bear,
the adjusting^ of what aleady is in the mind, to the presenta-
tion without Attention is not the fixing of the mind in general
but the fixing of a definite group of ideas upon presentation ^
having points of community with the group. The adjusting power
of attention consists in getting to the foreground of the mind and
holding there, those ideas allied to the object-matter attended to.
A pupil attends to a problem in arithmetic only as he brings
to the foreground of consciousness that knowledge of numbers
which he already possesses, and applies it to the new case.

Illustration. — The nature of mental life may be illus-
trated as follows : An individual is in a dark room with which
he is unacquainted. This room is lighted up at brief intervals

VOLUNTARY ATTENTION.

v*-

by an electric spark. Now, previous to the first illumination
there can be no preparatory activity of the mind. It does not
know what to look for, and hence cannot get ready. But at the
first spark, it obtains some dim idea of the room, and this makes a
basis for attention at the second lighting up. Being shghtly
prepared, it now sees more in the second flash. This gives
greater power to adjust tiie next time, and so on. Finally, some
flash, though not lasting any longer than the first flash during
which notliing was seen, reveals almost the entire contents
of the room. In other words, the more perfectly the mind can
make a preparatory adjtistment of its internal ideas to the out-
ward presentation, the better it can attend, and, of course, the
more it can become conscious of.

Attention and Past Experience.~It is furthermore evident that
the power of voluntary attention in any direction depends largely upon
past experience in that direction. We cannot bring ideas to bear, cannot
form adjustments, where we have no ideas. In every fact learned, in every
process of knowing, therefore, we are deciding our future knowledge as
well as our present, for wc are deciding in what directions we may be able
to form adjustmi-nts, to pay attention. The difference between a child and
a man, between an uncultured and an educated man, is largely that one
has definite groups of ideas, or instruments of adjustment, ready to bring to
bear upon presentations, while the other has nut.

2. Attention c% Selecting Activity. — Thus far we have been
considering the attitude of the mind in attention ; the pre-
paration necessary in order to give attention. Now we shall
suppose that adjustment has been secured, and ask what is
the effect upon the subject matter attended to. The primary
effect is selective. The mind emphasizes and slurs, brightens
and dims, according to the eiid it wishes to reach. Attention
has the same etfect upon any mental content that a lens has
ipon light: the point focussed stands out with brilliancy, \i\\^^
the surroundings are dull and indistinct. Attention, as adjust
ment, has been called " asking questi- ns of the future," and the
question once asked, the mind must select material fitted to
answer it.

■a

PSYCHICAL PROCESSES.

Basis of Selection. — The mind when attending is in a
(toss-examining attitude. It does not take presentations as they
come, but inquires into their value, and makes use of them ao
cordmgly. The basis on which some are chosen and others are
rejected is the end in view and the interest the mind takes in it.
A flower will produce the same sensations in the mind of an
artist, a farmer and a man of science ; but the artist will notice
the qualities that make for beauty, the farmer's attention will
select those that refer to use, that seem to testify to a weed or
to a useful plant, while the botanist may neglect both use and
beauty in an examination of the scientific relations of the
flower. In a certain sense, no two of them see the same flower.
One perceives, or selects, one thing, and this is invisible to the
others who neglect it. And in any case, it is the end which
the mind wishes to reach, the prevailing interest which it brings
with it, that decides the selection.

Variable and Permanent Ends of Selection.—

Diffierent persons and different classes of persons, since they
luive different occupations and interests in life, will, as just
illustrated, select varying things. But all minds, since they are
minds, have a common interest in knowledge, and a common
end in noticing these universal features, at least, without which
there would be no knowledge. Thus we may suppose a
thousand persons reading a book ;itid each underlining what
especially strikes him. A large nn oer of the passages under-
lined would vary according to the various ages, tastes, stages of
culture, etc., ot the readers. But there might be a number of
passages in the book which would appeal to all, and which all
would emphasize. So nith the book which the world presents
to be read by every mind.

The Law of Oommon Selection- — While no rule can be laid down
for the selective activity when it varies, ;xcepting thai it follows the pre-
vailing interest whatever that may i>e, here is a law for the selections in
which minds agree. Tkt mind aJuHtys sele<ts those stnsatiotu and tmfulsei

VOLUNTARY ATTENTION.

that are signs of something else ; that point to something beyond themselves.
Elements having no meaning outside their own occurrence, are neglected.
For example, although muscular sensations are of great importance to us,
we are never conscious of them in themselves, unless it be when we are
tired. We notice only what the sensations are signs of — what they signify
We move the hand through the air and are not conscious of the muscular
strain, but only of the space which is measured by it. There are instances
of persons who became blind in one eye and yet did not know it for
years. Their knowledge of objects, of what the sensations pointed to,
being unchanged, they never noticed the change in the sens lions them,
selves. Each of us has a multitude of sensations which he neglects en.
tirely either because they have no reference to objects, or because this
reference is so much more important than the sensations, that he attends to
that alu

J. At'ention as Relating Activity. — As we have previously
noticed, ideas may be connected externally or internally, i.e., be-
cause they occur at the same time or because there is something
in their meaning which connects them. The relations which
form the internal connection are those of similarity and con-
trast. And it is the chief characteristic of voluntary attention
that it aims at penetrating below tlie accidental, superficial, con-
nections of ideas, and at discovering the hidden relations which
unite and which distinguish them. Ordinary experience,
chance contact with objects, presents us with no arrangement,
no classification. Objects might forever thrust themselves
upon the mind, and if the mind did not react upon them with
the idea of a system according to which they might be grouped, a
system based upon points of internal likeness and dittcrence,
experience w ^uld remain an accidental juxtaposition of ideas,
without true order or law.

Example. — If we depended simply upon the order in
which our ideas present themselves or suggest one anotlur,
what kind of Zoology, for example, should we have ? It would
consbt simply of a continuous description of animals taken in
any chance order of arrangement, with no law of subordina

s»

PSYCHICAL PROCESSES.

tion and co-ordination, no principle of classification. Abso-
ciation by similarity would suffice, doubtless, to give some larger
divisions — birds, insects, quadrupeds, etc., might fall into
groups by themselves. But here, without further action of
voluntary attention, there would be no standard which could be
used to test even such a rough classification ; bats would be
called birds, and whales fishes. Finer classification and
knowledL;e of the relations of various groups wtmld be almost
wholly lacking For zoological classification consists in this,
that we examine into our jjrescntations instead of taking them
just as they come, that we search for some hidden unity, some
common principle or cause among facts the most diverse in ap-
pearance, and then, in accordan( e with this principle, rearrange
the accidental connections which experience provides.

Comparison. — This act of voluntary attention by which
we search for identities and distinctions is termed comparison.
We compare when 7ve hold two ideas together in the mind, and
then let our thoughts move from om to the other in order to see
in what points they agree or differ. It is association, without
doubt, which originally brings the two ideas together; but
attention is required to hold the ideas before the mind, to
keep them from being displaced by further suggestions, and
attention,— the idea of an end, and the direction of our thought
\)y it — is required to seize upon the points of likeness in apparent
difference, or of diversity in apparent similarity. Comparison
liolds together and holds apart at the same time ; it unifies and
it discriminates.

Unification. — When we say that attention aims at unifiying; ideas, it
must not be thoufjht tliat two ideas VLitJused into one. The two ideas still
remain separate in their existence, it is only their meanini; that is identified.
Both are seen to signify the same thing. Thus the fall of the apple, the
path of the cannon ball in the air, the revolution of the moon, the rise o(
the tide, facts separate in themselves, are unified by the law of gravitation.
Voluntary attention, then, sets out with the idea of a law, a relation, a prln*

VOLUNTARY ATTENTION.

ciple common to difTerent facts, and it controls the flow of ideas with refer*
rice to this one idea ; it seeks for it everywhere ; it tries this and that
experience to see if it contains this one idea. Consider, for example, the
procedure of a scientific man, endeavoring to discover or to verify a law ; it
is the ■ lea of this law which compels his experiences to assume unity.

Discrimination. — When ^i)eaking of non-voluntary atteniion, we notic-
ed that one of its effects is t,o bring whatever receives attention more clearly
into consciousness. In voluntary attention we have an extension of the
same principle. The mind sets itself intentionally to distinguish between
one object and another, between one feature or quility of the object and
another property. It is through this process that knowledge ceases to be
vague, and gains clearness. For example, a child recognizes a tree before
he recu<,'nizes any particular kind of tree. The elm, the oak, the mapK ,
are all sintply trees to him. But he notices, say, the difference iu the leaves
of two trees ; he then compares the two trees with a view to asceriaininj; in
what other respects they differ. Eaci utTerence as it is noticed maki >
knowledge of the tree known more disimct, or definite. Thus, also, tiu
child begins with a vaj;ue idea of meat, which by noticed dilTerences,
becomes discriminate!! into ideas of beef, veal, mutton, etc. The undefin-
ed in every case precedes the distinct, and the vague becomes the detinitc
by the activity of attention in fixing upon differences.

The Qoal of Attention. — Through the double act of iden-
tifying and discriminating, knowledge becomes at once wiificii
and definite. While, at first, attention can grasp only a small
idea, one with {q.^ details in it, and these ft-vv vague, with grow-
ing culture it takes in larger and larger wholes, and the details
of these larger wholes are better and better defined. The mind
takes in more at one grasp, and the details stand out more
clearly. For example, a child just learning to read has before
him a printed page ; the unit of attention is necessarily small ;
say the single word, oral most the sentence. And the members
of this unit are not clearly defined ; the child will hardly dis-
criminate *mop' from *map' ; * apply' from 'aj^ple ;' or, if he can
recognize the meaning of a sentence 2ii one act of attention, he
will no* know the relations of the different parts of the sentence,
the value of each of its members. But ten years after, he will
be able to take in a paragraph in one mental act, and at the

EDUCATIONAL PRINCIPLES.

same time he will have a more definite idea of each of its
factors, than he had when he was obliged to go through them
1 iboriously one at a time. The goal of the development of
attention is, therefore, ability to i;rasp in one act large wholes,
and at the same time, give distinctness to every part of this whole
in the degree in which this goal is reached, there is economy
and facility in the expenditure of mental power.

Educational Principles.— The work of securing atten-
tion from any individual pui)il is something, of course, which
depends upon the patience, tact, interest and skill of the
teacher. Mut there are certain psychological principles upon
which he must Imild either con ciously or unconsciously, if even
his best energies and sympathies arc to be of any avail.

\. Voluntary Attention Demands . tal Effort. — The train
of ideas, if left to itself, will go on oy the principle of associ-
ation. And when all successions of ideas are occasioned wholly
by mere suggestion we have mind-wandering. It requires,
therefore, a certain mental energy to interfere, as it were, with
the sequences of association and to control them, to compel
them to take a certain course. It requires no positive effort or
training to let the mind wander ; we have simply to allow it to
follow its own course. This is easy, and so mental laziness
becomes one of the greatest hindrances of the teacher's work.
There is a certain strain or stress involved in attention, and
the student must be awakened from the inertia natural to the
association of ideas, and made to exercise his mental powers,
and to assume an active, energetic habit of mind.

2. Voluntary Attention Demands Unity and Permanence oj
Interest. — Dissipation of interest is, next to sheer mental lazi-
ness, the great foe of attention. Watch an inattentive school-
boy ; one moment he studies one lesson, the next moment,
another lesson, then he must write upon his slate, then sharpen
his pencil, then speak to a fellow-pupil, and so on in a con-

PSYCHICAL PROCESSES.

stantly interrupted round of disconnected doings. There is no
one and lasting interest which runs through his operations.
This dissipation of interests results inevitably in discontinuity
of attention. The pupil may have had good powers of non
voluntary attention, that is to say, objects may have attracted
him readily and kepi his attention fixed as Ion;.; as the attrac-
tion endured, but if the successive attractions were never
welded into a series, if they were given no underlying unity, the
result is necessarily a skipping, jerky, disconnected habit of
mind. Whatei'er secures unity of interest in diverse subjects
works in and of itself to secure continuous attention.

3. Voluntary Attention demauls thit there br already in the
Mind some Store of ideas akin to the Suhject to be attended to. —
Attention, as we have seen, is not bringing the mind in general,
that is an empty mind, to bear upon a suhjci t, it is focussing ujion
the subject ideas already had, knowledge already f)btained.
To recjuire a young student, for example, to pay attention to
abstract statements about the form, position, mode of revolu-
tion and subdivisions of the e.irth, without ascertaining whether
he has any analogous ideas, any acquired knowledge, which may
serve to fix and interpret the new statements, is to commit a
pedagogical blunder. A certain superficial attention of the eye
or the ear may be secured, but no truly mnital attention. To
demand a merely ^r;//^/ attention from a student, that is, to ask
him to fix hi? psychical processes in general upon a subject, is
to demand an i»npossibility. That there may be renl assimila-
tion, attention must be paid to something in Mrticu^ar, and
requires the presence in the mind of ideas somewhat similar —
having some relation to the >ul)ject taught.

4. Voluntary Attention requires that this Store of similar Ideas
be not latent m the Mind^ but Actively broui^ht into Play. 1 1 is not
enough that the mind should have experiences analogous to
the topic in hand stored away, it must bring them to the surface ;

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EDUCATIONAL PRINCIPLES.

it must have them ready to seize upon whatever is presented.
If mental effort and unity of interest exist, and yet there is
failure of attention, it is, nine times out of ten, because this
preparatory work has not been done. Of course, training in
holding attention in any subject gives self control, and makes
attention easier in other directions, and yet it is, for example,
no great help when attention is required in historical study, to
have just been absorbed in mathematics. Indeed, it may be at
first a hindrance; the circle of historical ideas must be brought
to the surface of the mind. Historical conceptions and interests
must be fresh and active ; then attention — :the conjunction of
the inner mental acquisition with the outer object to be acquired
— is easily secured.

5. — Counterfeit Attention. — It follows from this, that there
may be the outward form and attitude of attention — the
apparently hearing ear and seeing eye — while the mind is utterly
out of connection with the subject. There are. also, other
forms of such spurious attention which are, as already
intimated, all but equally futile. Some attention may be paid
to a lesson ; its facts pnd principles may be severally appre-
hended while the underlying unity is never grasped. A
pupil, for example, may give sufficient attention to a reading
lesson to enable him to understand the separate sentences,
and yet fail to acquire a clear conception of the lesson as a
whole ; the higher activity of attention, the relating power
is wanting ; there are disconnected acts of attention but no
perception of relations, no unifying power. Similarly, a pupil
may comprehend each of the successive steps in a demonstra-
tion and yet fail to master it, through not giving the higher
power of attention necessary to such mastery. Or, again, a
student may grasp the connections of the several points of a
topic and still fail to assimilate the new knowledge with the
old J he does not revive and hold in readiness the groups of
ideas bearing on the subject ; he fails in the adjusting power of ^.

VOLUNTARY ATTENTIOM.

M n

attention, and the result is neither permanent increase of
knowledge nor development of mind-function.

6. Voluntary Attention requires that the Mind move alon\^
Rilatedor connec ed Points. Contradictory as tlie statement may
sound, attention can be kept fixed only as it is kept niovin'^. Lei
us suppose that the preceding conditions have been met ; the
mind is aroused to active effort, it has continuous interest; it
has had knowledge of matters analogous to that to be attended
to, and this knowledge has been stirred up and called to the
surface. And now the subject is put before the pupil, and he
is told by the teacher to pay attention. A most lame and im-
potent conclusion ! The pupil is now waiting and anxious to
pay attention ; hoiv to pay it is the essential point, and the
point on which he is too apt to get no help. If he tries to
keep his mind resting, to keep it literally fixed, one result is
inevitable : the mind must move in one way or another ; it
cannot rest without consciousness ceasing ; some association
suggests itself, this suggests another, and so on. So, with the
firm purpose to pay attention, the pupil finds his mind
wandering.

How then shall the attention be kept fixed ? Attention is
the movement of ideas controlled by the relations of identity
and difference. The process of paying attention is, therefore,
one 0/ noticing and discovering these rriations. In the early
stages, this work must, of course, be performed largely by the
teacher ; he must arrange the material, he must arrange his
questions so as to make the relations, the connections of a sub-
ject, prominent. Unimportant and irrelevant features must be
excluded ; the points of connection must be made salient ;
they must be emphasized and reiterated until the pupil's mind
forms the habit of following their connections, to the neglect of
all else. This habit once formed, there grows, almost natur-
ally and of itself in higher stages, the habit of picking out and

PSYCHICAL PROCKSSES.

forming the connections without help. When this point is
reached, no attention need be paid to attention. Attention
takes care of itself, for this power of observing and creating re-
lations is Attention.

7. Further Siiggcstmis. — (at) In infancy and childhood
attention must be secured indirectly, that is, it must be attracted
by some interest in the subject, or secured by the personality
of the teacher ; his tact, earnestness, sympathy, patience, will,
power, etc. But as non-voluntary attention grows into
voluntary, and the creature of impulse becomes capable of
self-control, rational motives may be effectively appealed to.
Thus, a subject unattractive or even repulsive in itself, com-
mands attention through its association with " pleasure in
prospect" of some desired etid. {p) As in the eailier years
something must be given the child to do^ so in the later years
something must be left to his thinking; the child delights in
doing with the hand, the youth delights in doing with the
mind — in conquering difficulties for himself, {f) The different
tastes and and abilities of pupils must be taken into account.
A pupil may have little native capacity for a subject, or,
through irrational teaching, he may have acquired a thorough
dislike for it. In either case, true attention on his part is ex-
tremely difficult. He cannot attend in the specific direction,
because he has nothing to attend with — no groups of ideas
which are related to the new subject and without which he
cannot seize upon it ; for, once more, a mind empty in a given
direction, cannot attend in that direction. In such a case, if
the teacher is without sympathy and the kindly insight that
flows from it — a servile follower of pedagogic rule and formula,
he draws the sweeping inference : Stupid in one, stupid in all.
Thus, many a youth of fine ability has been grossly wronged
because of bis inability to make progress in a pathway along
which his blind guide would force him. {d\ Not only is
attention the prime condition and the measure of intellectual

APPEKCKPTION AND RLTLNllON.

development, it is of perhaps equal importance in the moral
sphere. " The boy is father of the man ; " if, in the school, the
habit of ;ittcntion is fornied, the power of concentrated thought
developed, there will be thou^htfulness and steadiness of pur
pose in the character of the man. But the habit o( inattention
and the incapacity for steady thinking, are the chief factors in a
character infnm of purpose, " unstable as water." Detective
attention in practical life, (says Compayr^) is the synonym of
thoughtlessness and heedlessness. To be habitually attentive
is not only the best means of learning and progressing in the
sciences, and the most effective prayer we can address to the
truth in order that it may bestow itself upon us ; but it is also
one of the most precious means of moral perfection, the
surest means of shunning mistakes and faults, and one of the
most ne(xssary elements of virtue. See Dewey's Psychology,
pp. 132-148.

I*-

§ 4. APPERCEPTION AN£) RETENTION.

We have finished our study of the processes — attention,
voluntary and non-voluntary, and association — which elaborate
the raw material of psychical life, previously studied, into the
concrete forms yet to be taken up. Before taking them up, it
is neces.sary to notice that these processes have a double refer-
ence or aspect. They affect both the materia/ acted upon, and
the mind ivhich acts — they look towards both the object and
the subject. For example, certain sensations are occasioned
by an object ; the processes of attention and association work-
ing upon them, form the idea of a flower. This is the outward
objective effect But the mind now has knowledge of this
flower ; its own store of ideas is increased ; its structure is en-
larged in this direction. This is the inner, subjective effect.

Retention and Apperception. — This latter effect" ii

PSYCHICAL PROCESSES.

known as retention^ the former as apperception. Apperception
may be defined as the action of the mind upon the material pre-
sented to it. Retention is the action upon the mind of this mater-
tat when apprehended. AppcrcL'^ition is, thus, the process of
taking anything into the mind {apprehending), of giving it
psychical position and meaning. Retention is the effect which
the material, when taken into the mind, has upon the mind
itself.

Illustrations. — These abstract definitions may be made
clearer by examples. An infant, a savage, an ignorant man, and
a skilled mechanic are before a steam-locomotive. It produces
the same effect upon all, so far as sensat'ons are concerned,
supposing that all have their senses intact. And yet the baby
apprehends nothing; there is no result except the mingled feelings
of curiosity and terror. The savage also has these feel igs,
and in addition recognizes some qualities; its immense size,
the peculiarities of its form, some analogies of appearance and
of movement with those of animals that he has known ; per-
haps he calls it an " iron-horse." The ordinary man perceives
the locomotive — that is, he knows the purpose of this object,
knows that it is propelled by steam, and knows some details of
its structure. The mechanic perceives, in addition, the precise
purpose of each part ; the * bearing' and relation of it He per-
ceives the adjustment of means to an end ; the exact significance
not only of the whole locomotive but of each member of it
Whence come these differences of ideas in the four cases?
Not from the engine ; not from the sensations ; but from the
attitude of the mind towards the sensations — in short, from
Apperceiving power — from the different ways in which the mmd
acts upon the sensations.

On the other hand, certain results flow from the appercep-
tion. The baby, it may be, will not be so frightened the next
time he sees a locomotive ; he will have a dim sense of

APPERCEPTION AND RETENTION.

familiarity, of recognition. The structure of his mind, in
other words, has been changed in a slight degree. The savage
watches the locomotive ; he notices how 'it moves upon the
rails ; how it is governed by levers, etc. The next time he sees
a locomotive he does not have to observe these things in order
to know that they are there ; his mind supplies them from
his previous experience. This experience, therefore, after van-
ishing, left some trace, some relic of itself. Let us now suppose
that the mechanic shows the unlearned man the details of the
engine ; that he imparts to him, as far as possible, his own
knowledge. It is evident that, from this time forward, the
attitude of mind of the latter toward locomotives, has entirely
changed. He has not simply had some new facts told him, but
these facts have entered into his mind and enlarged its powers.
Knowledge is not a temporary occurrence, but is a permanent
possession. In these instances, we have the fact of Retention
illustrated.

Mutual Relations. — It is evident that each of these
processes depends upon the other. We can retain only what
we have once apprehended, so much, at least, is clear. Fur-
thermore, what we retain from one experience is that with
which we apprehend ever afterwards. If the baby, or the
savage, or the ignorant man apperceives more the second time
he sees a locomotive than he did the first, it is because of
what he has retained from that former experience. If every
experience were "writ in water," if it left no trace of itself
behind; in other words, if there were no such thing as reten-
tion J the result would be that we should always remain infants
intellectually, for there would be no growth in apperceiving
power.

The Nature of Retention.— The student is not to infer
that the experience itself is stored up in the mind, as grains of
corn are stored in a bin. I'he mind is sometimes spoken

PSYCHICAL PROCESSES.

of as a store-house, or as a ma,G;.a7,ine or granary, bdt such
metaphors are misleading. The idea, as an idea, ceases to exist
the moment that it' leaves consciousness. Nor can we say in
strict truth that a copy, or image, or trace of it is left behind.
What then is retained, if it is neither the idea itself nor a copy
of it? The reply is that the ejfcd which tlie experience makes
upon the mind is retained. Hie apprehending activity of the
mind may be compared to the reception and assimilation ot'
food by a li\ing organism. As the tree, for example, does
not absorb surrounding gases, moisture and mineral substances
and " store them up " unaltered, but as these act and react
upon the living tissues of the tree until they themselves are
changed into living tissues ; so the mind deals with its experi-
ences. They are not passively re( eived into the mind, to be
preserved there unchanged, but they are worked over into the
strengthening of old powers and tendencies and into the ger-
mination of new ones.

Educational Illustration. — Suppose a child has to add
a column of fiL!,ures. If he has added columns before and if he
has "retained" something from the menud action involved in
the operations, he will be able to do thi'^ without assistance.
But it is not the preservation in hir mind of the figures which
he has added before, nor of their copies, that enables him to
add. These former experiences have acted upon his mind,
however, so as to give him the power to control its action
in a certain direction, and to perceive and to construct rela-
tions in this direction. A child should not learn the multipli-
cation table so that its exact image recurs to him when he
has to muUipl.v two numbers, but in order that he may form the
habit, gain the power, of dealing with numerical combinations.

Dynamical Associations.— What is retained is some-
times called a " dynamical association." By this is meant that
retention consists in an active tendency to form connections.

APPKRCI FriON AND RETENTION.

The mind which has joined objects or ideas by attention or by
association, has not only the capacity of making similar connec-
tions more easily in the future, but it has a tendency^ a predis-
position, to make them. Long before a child has conscious
memory or recolh^ction, he retains something from each of his
experiences and it is by this retention that his mind grows in
power, that it develops and matures. If we examine what is
retained before memory exists, we see that it is the ability and
the impulse to form associations like those formerly experi-
enced. ,

Nature of Apperception.— We are now prepared to see
more clearly what constitutes appcrceptic^n. // is bringiug to
bearivhat has been retained of past experiences in sjich a way as
to inte'Pr'et, to give tncani/ii^ to, the nriv exp rience. Without this
act of bringing to bear what is retained in the mind, there is no
knowledge of what is presented. It may be said, therefore,
that in a certain sense all cognition is re-cognition. Know-
ledge of what is perceived depends for its meaning upon re-
lations to what the mind brings with it to the perception.

An Objection Considered.— It may be objected that
if this were the case, there would be no such thing as growth or
advance in mental life. The objecter might say that, on this
theory, if a new fruit, a guava, for instance, were presented to a
person, he would not know it at all, since he could not recognize it.
But this objection may be met so as to bring out the very point
desired. The person tastes the fruit ; his mind from its previous
experiences, recognizes a taste ; by siu.ilar acts of recognition he
gets its odor, size, color and other properties. By its relations
to his past experiences he thus judges the object to be a kind of
fruit, in relating it to similar things he has known, he recognizes
differences, as well as similarities, and thus enlaiges his past
experiences. He reorganizes qualities into new combinations,
into a new objects. From the united similarities and differences

I i

PSYCHICAL PROCESSES.

he gets his knowledge of something hitherto unknown. On the
basis of the likeness he recognizes what sort of an object is
presented to him, i. e.y he identifies the object ; on the basis of
the differences^ he enlarges his past experiences into a distinct
idea, an idea of something different from what was previously
known. And in either case, it is only by the results of his past
experiences that there is actual knowledge of the thing ex-
amined.

Educational Principles.

I. As to Retention. — If the teacher will keep in mind that
the retention of what is learned consists not in preserving
it unchanged, but in working it over into mental capac-
ities and tendencies, he will see that the end of instruction is
not so much the acquisition of a given amount of information
as the production of powers and tendencies, of abilities and
tastes. Not what is perceived so much as power to perceive
and interest which impels to perception, is the end of *• object
lessons." Not what is remembered so much as capacity to
remember, and a fixed tendency to seize upon the salient
points of rvery experience, are the objects of memory lessons \
not what is thought about so much as the habit of thinking, is
the end to be sought in the instruction of reason. Knowledge
of the real nature of retention affords the psychological basis
of what it often stated as an empirical truth, viz., that education
consists not in the imparting and acquiring of mere facts, but in
the development of the whole personality.

Yet, it is to be observed, there is often too broad a contrast
made between knowledge and mental power as ends of edu-
cation. The fact is, that the mind gains power in the act
of acquiring knowledge. The two processes are necessarily
correlative. For organizing mental faculty, there is no other
means than organized knowledge. Still, if the mental power

EDUCATIONAL PRINCIPLES.

IS made the true aim, it is likely that the elements of know-
ledge will be more logically presented, and so both results will
be more thoroughly attained.

a. As to Apperception. — The psychogical equivalent of ap-
perception is precisely " learning." The student learns what
he apperceives. Since apperception consists in bringing the
mind (with its past experiences organized into its structure)
to bear upon material, it is evident thrt learning depend!^
upon the relation of the mind to what is presented. The
teacher's office, therefore, in relation to learning is, on the one
hand, to secure the presentation of material of such a kind and
in such a manner that the mind can be brought into relation
with It ; and on the other hand, to secure such a preparation and
attitude of mind that it may easily be brought to bear upon
what is presented. Pnper presentation of material on the one
sxdQy proper preparation of mind on the other are the two condi-
tions of learning. Further details regarding these conditions
we shall meet with in our next chapter in discussing the prin-
ciples of intellectual development.

3. Organization of Faculty. — The mind of the infant, while
inheriting certain tendencies and abilities which act instinc-
tively, does not possess powers and faculties ready for action in
definite directions. There are no apperceptive organs formed,
no groups of ideas ready to seize upon and assimilate new
material. There is simply a bundle of dormant capacities which
must be stimulated into activity and organized into faculty by
ihe presentation of material from without, and by the mind's
reaction from within. Every mental experience leaves behind
it a trace — called by some residuum — an effect^ which tends to
reproduce the experience, and the accumulation of such traces
creates special power and tendency — mind-function of a
definite kind. Moreover, from the known connection of
mind with brain, there is no doubt that such experiences are

■I

EDUCATIONAL PRINCIPLES.

accompanied by some modification in groups of brain cells, and
that their growth into special organs of apperception is attended
with nervous growths which actually modify the structure of
the brain. It is not strange, therefore, that habit becomes a
second n2i{.\iTQ so strong and active as sometimes to be mistaken
for ih^Jirst. This power, bent, facility to act — right or wrong,
good or evil — in a definite' direction, has evtrred into the struc-
ture of both body and mind, and will <>ive a coloring to all
future thoughts and actions, just as the food-elements absorbed
by the tree, become part of its living tissue and affect the
assimilation of all material afterwards absorbed. Now, the
teacher is not wholly responsible for such development of
faculty — the powerful influence of environment must be taken
into account — but there can be no doubt that, under conceivably
favourable circumstances, he is, in no small degree, responsible.
He can make the child love what he himself loves, and hale
what he hates. It is difficult to over-rate the far-reaching influ-
ence of a teacher of strong personality. Under the teaching of
such a man, the child once thinks certain thoughts and is stirred
with certain emotions ; from that moment he wilt never again
be exactly ivhai he Wiis before ; it is, indeed, possible that he
will have acquired a bent which will determine his character
forever.

In this law of retention and apperception, the teacher holds
in his hand the principle which underlies all educational pro-
cesses, moral, jjhysical and intellectual ; the law that exercise
strengthens faculty, develops faculty, and almost literally creates
faculty. A child, e.g., of volatile disposition comes into his
hands ; he gets from the child one act of attention suitable to
his feeble capacity, then a second act, tlien a third, and so on
till a fair habit of attention and a moderate power of concen-
tration are formed, and the whole psychical life thereby influenc-
ed. Or, the child is found to possess no '* faculty " for literature,
or mathematics, or science, or art j but the teacher has power

INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT.

f.l

to develop faculty, ability, taste for one or more of them, ac-
cording to the special appercei)tive 'organs" which have
been developed in his own mental life. On the moral side,
the law is equally efTcctive. If a teacher finds that a child is of
a selfish disposition --"a wretch concentred all in sell " — does
he leave him to the workings of this meanest of all passions ?
No, he watches for a favorable occasion to excite a generous
sentiment in the selfish heart, and to make this efieciive in a
kindly act ; he now occupies a higher vantage-ground ; it will
be easier to excite a second generous emotion, and to lead to
a second kindly act ; and thus the process goes on — the selfish
principle becoming feebler with each successive act — till by the
accumulation of the riiiht experiences, a noble self-sacrificing
charatcr is formed — a new creation over which something
higher than '* the morning stars " may sing : for, " to make some
human hearts a little wiser, manfuller, happier, more blessed,
less accursed, is a work for a God."

Note. —Further on Apperception and Retention, see Dewey's Psy-
chology, pp. 81-90 ; 148-153.

iit

CHAPTER IV.

FORMS OF INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT.

We have studied the Raw Material of psychical life, and the
Processes which elaborate the material. We have now briefly
to study the Finished Products. As stated in Chap. 1., p. 6,
these may be arranged in three classes, the Intcliedual (matter
of knowledge), the Emotional (matter of feeling), and the
Volitional (matter of will). In this chapter we shall discuss
Intellectual Development, taking uj) in the first section its
general principles, and afterwards the concrete stages, par-
ticularly in their educational relations.

INTELLECIUAL DEVELOPMENT.

§ 1. PRINOIPIjBS op INTBrjIiBOTUAIj DB-

VBIiOPMBNT.

1. The Development of Intelligence is from the Present ative
to the Representative. — Sensation, pure and simple, cannot be
said to stand for^ or symbolize^ or represent anything beyond its
own occurrence. But the test of value of a sensation is its
power to merge its own existence in what it represents. A
sensation of hunger fills the mind with itself ; it thrusts out of
consciousness everything but its own quality, all but its own
imperious demands and hence gives next to no knowledge.
A sensation of color, on the other hand, leads the mind
beyond its O'vn existence, to associations with other sensations,
those of touch, of sound, etc. It suggests these sensations
when they are not present, and thus becomes a sign or symbol
of them — it represents them. As I look at a rose, for example,
all 1 see, strictly speaking, is certain shades of color. Were
my knowledge to stop short with this presentative factor, it
would never occur to me that a rose was before me. But
these shades of color stand for a certain size and shape, etc.
They call up other sensations not now present, but experienced
in the past ; they call up also associated sensations of touch,
of smell, etc. And from all these factors — the most of them
being now only representative in character — I get the idea of a
rose.

Farther Illustration. — Or, suppose I hear a strain of
music which I recognize as, say, part of the song of " Robin
Adair." All that is present is a certain auditory sensation ; as
such, it is not Robin Adair, it is not a song, it is not music ;
it is not even significant language. It is sound. But by what
the sound stands for, what it symbolizes, it gains successively
all its meaning.

2. The Development of Intelligence is from the Sensuous to
the Ideal. — This, indeed, follows at once firom the principle

INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT.

already laid down. The presented element is sensation ; the
represented element can only be images, ideas. Not being
supplied from the senses, the representative factor must be
supplied from within the mind itself, and is thus called " ideal."
Consider the perception, for example, of some particular object,
this pen, this paper, this book, as now present in space. It might
seem at first as if, in the perception of this book, there were no
ideal element, because the entire book is actually present. But if
we simply look at the book, the only elements presented to the
mind are the coior-sensations with which the mind is affected.
The color-sensations do not make up an idea of the book.
This contains not only color-element, but also those ot weight,
size, forms, and also the notion of a number of pages, printed
with type, containing information and meant to be read. Now,
of all these elements, the only one that can be seen, as matter
of sensation, is color. The other qualities, therefore, are ideal
— are supplied to the perception by the mind itself.

Idealizing Activity.— Since the ideal factor, which is
also equivalent to the representative factor, is of so much im-
portance, it will repay farther study. The ideal factor is due
to retention. It is -what the mind has preserved from its for-
mer experiences and supplies to the sensuous presentation.
The development of knowledge from the presentative and sen-
suous to the representative and ideal, is due^ therefore, to the
results of past experience that are brought to bear upon new ex-
periences. The sensation produced by the object as it affects
the senses is all that in strictness can be said to be presented.
Whether this sensation comes to mean or signify anything
beyond its occurrence, depends first, upon whether the mind
has had similar experiences in the past ; secondly ^ upon whether
these experiences have taken root in the mind and pro-
duced fruit there, and thirdly, upon whether they are brought
to bear upon the new presentation. Certain principles of great
educational importance flow from what has been laid down.

■ ■ ij

! (.1

tJi

EDUCATIONAL PRINCIPLES.

Educational Principles.

1. 7 he development of knowledge is the result of art et-
preting process. The sensation, the presentative factor, rriUbt be
interpreted in order to become representative, symbolic, or
ideal ; in a word, in order to become significant, and upon the
degree of interpretation depends the degree of significance. It
is not enough to present a lesson to a pupil to be learnt, to
show him natural objects which he is to understand, to lecture
to him upon laws and relations. From the point of view of
the pupil, the important thing is whether he can interpret the
lesson, the object, the lectures. If he has no organs of inter-
pretation, the mnterial, however true and well arranged in
itself, is so much mere sensation to him, sound and color
signifying nothing.

2. // is the result of an assimi/atitii^ process. The interpre-
taticn must occur through what the mind has within itself
The past store of knowledge, not held mechanically in mind,
but wrought over into mental structure, capacity and tendency,
is that through which the interprets tion occurs. The process
of interpreting is a process of assimilating what is presented
with what is already contained in the mind. It is of great
importance, therefore, that the instructor should carry on his
work in such a way as

a. Not to load the mind with information, but to develop ten-
dencies, organs, which may receive and elaborate neiv material.

b. To create centres of interests and of ideas which shall be on
the alert for new material, so that whatever is presented shall
gravitate naturally to tiiese centres, and be appropriated and as-
similated by them.

c. To be as careful, upon presenting new material, to arouse
preparatory interest and the activity of the mental organs which
are to interpret and assimilate the material, as to have the ma-
terial itself well chosen and arranged.

' d. Always to utilize past knoiv ledge in acquiring new. There

INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT.

is no greater educational blunder than disconnected, dispersive
instruction. In the primary stages, not only should lessons in
the same sul)ject be closely connected by proper grading, by
overlapping of ideas, etc., but different subjects should gather
about some cofnmon centre. In proper instruction, reading,
writing, construction of sentences, arithmetic and geography,
should have a certain amount of interconnection and unity, so
as mutually to co-operate with and aid one another, instead of
calling into ph.^ diverse and separate groups of interests and
ideas. To present four subjects isolated from one another is
to treat the pupil as having four minds ; it is almost to quad-
ruple the required expenditure of energy. One subject is out
of relation to another, and can give no aid in apprehending it.

3. The Devel'linrnt of Intelligence is from the Vague to the
Definite, and from the Particular to the Universal. Its End
is, therefore, to be both Specific and General. — Knowledge, in its
first stages, is both indefinite or vague, and limited or non-
general in character. A child's knowledge of, say, a horse, as
compared with a man's, possesses no sharply defined features or
qualities, and is lacking in recogniti<jn of the relations which
this horse has in common with others. The child neither dis-
criminates this horse carefully from all other horses, nor from
other animals somewhat similar. If the horse is the animal
with which he is most ftimiliar, the dog will be to him a small
horse, the elephant a large horse. Taine tells of a child who
had often been shown an infant in a picture and told that it
was a baby ; for a long time that child called every picture,
no matter of what, a baby. And this example is typical of
the beginning of intelligence. There is no definiteness, no re-
cognition of specific qualities ; all is vague, and, as it were,
massed, not individualized.

it is evident that early knowledge has a certain kind of
generality — the generality of vagueness. The word " mamma,"

INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT.

may mean every woman, the word " dog," every animal, and so
on. This is not a true universality, however, for there is no
recognition of any general relation as such. The child may
call every round object, from a circle drawn on his slate to the
moon, " plate," but this is not because he grasps the identity of
relation (in the matter oi form) in these vaiious objects. It is
simply because he sees one salient quality and ignores differ-
ences. Knowledge is general only in the sense that it is not
individualized. In reality, the child's knowledge is limited^ not
general. Immature intelligence always takes facts in their
isolation ; each is taken to be what it appears to be on its
surface, a separate fact without connection with others. De-
pendencies of one fact upon another, internal relations, reasons
and laws, do not appeal to a young child ; in fact, he cannot
be made to see them. Since each fact stands alone, knowledge
is necessarily limited or particular. With the recognition of
internal connections, of ways in which one fact depends upon
another, or is the reason for some third fact, limitation is
removed.

Generality. — An idea is general, in the degree in whicli
it stands for, represents, or symbolizes, ideas not contained in
its own existence. It becomes general just in the degree in
which it is taken out of its separation, its isolation, from other
facts and is connected with them through some bond of like
meaning. To a child, for example, a pebble may be simply
what it appears to be in itself, one object, separate from all
others, with an individuality of its own. But a scientific man
generalizes the pebble. He sees it connected with other objects
through the law of gravitation, through physical forces, through
chemical actions and reactions. He may finally rise, through
the discovery of the law of interdependence of all thingF- to
the statement that if the pebble were otherwise than as it is,
the whole structure of the Universe would have to be different.
In other words, the qualities of the pebble have now become

INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT.

sigfiifUant oi wide relations^ instead of being just what they seem
to be in themselves.

Prom the Unrelated to the Related.— The principle

of the development of intelligence may be otherwise worded : —
The development of knowledge is from the unrelated to the
related. Relations, as we saw when studying attention, are
either of identity or of difference. Now, the mind has only a
very limited capacity of relating its first experiences; it has
almost nothing: with which it may compare any presentation ;
hence, as the relation of difference is not noticed, knowledge is
vague, and, as the relation of identity is not recognized, know-
ledge is limited. The discriminating, or analytic, activity
develops relations of difference, and hence, clearly discrimin-
ates one thing from another, and gives each an individuality
of its own. The identifying, or synthetic, activity develops
relations of unity between various facts and then takes them
out of their isolated, separate character, into the generality of
their common law or aspect. Every fact, as soon as it is con-
nected with another fact, widens its meaning, for it has added
to it the significance of this other fact. On the other hand,
every fact, as it is distinguished from another fact, defines its
meaning, for it is seen to signify something slightly different from
the other fact.

Illustration. — If we return to the child who confuses a
plate, a circle and the moon, we shall find him, as he grows
older, seeing differences. He will notice the brightness, etc. of
the moon ; the solid, useful character of the plate ; the abstract
character of the circle. Each object thus gains in individuality.
But, as time goes on, he learns that the circle is a geometrical
figure, a surface, curvilinear, etc. He identifies it with these
other figures — the plate, etc.,— and learns that it has certain
qualities in common with them ; thus his knowledge of it
oecomes wider, more general. He learns also to know the

;■>'

EDUCATIONAL PRINCIPLES

moon as a heavenly body, as not a fixed star, as a satellite, etc.
In other words, he identifies it with each of these classes of
objects, and in identifying it with them, adds to it the qualities
which they possess. Then too, he recognizes the laws which
connect the moon with other heavenly bodies ; the moon ceases
to be an isolated body in the heavens, and becomes a member
of a vast system, connected with every other member by
permanent and universal laws. Knowledge of the moon is now
both definite (in that its differences from ot'ier bodies, similar in
some respects, are recognized) and general^ in that its connec-
tions with other bodies, however different in appearance they
may be, are recognized.

Educational Principles. — The principles just laid down
are important as suggesting both the ends aimed at in the
education of intelligence, namely, definiteness and generalityy
and the means by which these ends are to be reached, namely,
analysis and synthesis.

I. The Teacher has to make Knowledge Definite. — It is some-
times said that knowledge begins with the concrete and advances
♦o the abstract, and from this principle the rule is deduced that
particular, definite, objects, should first be presented to the
pupil, and afterwards his mind be led to consider abstract
qualities. However true the principle may be, if it is rightly
interpreted, it is thoroughly false il it is meant to imply that
knowledge is at first concrete, and that this concrete, definite
knowledge may be used as the basis for further knowledge. So
far ought the teacher to be from assuming that objects have the
same concreteness and definiteness to a pupil that they have to
him, that his rule should be to make knowledge definite and
concrete.

Illustra.tions. — It is an extremely common error to sup-
pose that, because an object, in itself ^ is definite and concrete,
it is so to the mind. A triangle, for example, is in itself, per-

INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT.

fectly definite ; it has just such and such properties and
no others. But a child's idea of it has no such con-
creteness. Indeed, the process by which he learns about
the triangle is simply the process by which his idea gains
definiteness. If his idea were already definite, his knowledge
would be complete, whereas it is only beginning. A triangle
is not a triangle to the child in the sense of a definite figure ;
it has to be made a triangle, as he learns that it has three
sides, in distinction from a square, that it is bounded by
straight instead of curved lines, as a circle, etc. Primary
object lessons, m the same way, are not to lead the mind on
from some definite idea which the pupil already has, but to
Biive him definite ideas, corresponding to the concrete individual
character of the object.

2. The Teacher should present^ first, Wholes^ then Paris:
first Outlines, then Details. — The growth of knowledge in a
child's mind has been well compared to the growth of his repre-
sentation of, say, a man. The cliild, at first draws upon his
slate two circles, one for the head, another for the body, and
puts under the body two lines for legs. After a time, arms are
added, perhaps a neck ; then the face begins to gain features,
first eyes and mouth, then nose and ears ; the arms are en-
dowed with hands ; the legs are given feet. Then the same
process is repeated for each organ. The eye gains eye-brows,
lashes and ball ; the arms have joints ; the hands, fingers, etc
Then perhaps the child undertakes to draw different individuals,
and delineates the characteristic features that distinguish one
person from another. So it is with our idea of any object ; it
exists first in vague outline rude and typical in character.
Gradually /ar/j, members, are recognized, the most interesting
first, then these again, are, subdivided. Various objects of the
same general kind are examined with a view to seeing indi-
vidual differences, and thus knowledge becomes gradually spe-

1 1

" 1.

EDUCATIONAL PRINCIPLES.

oific and concrete. The teacher should follow this natural
psychological order.*

3. The Teacher must rely on the Mind^i Analytic Power. —
To reach his end, the educator must be able to excite the dis-
tinguishing capacity of the student's mind. He cannot present
the differences, the details directly to another; but he can call
attention to these qualities. That is to say, he can set the
pupil's mind working in such ways that the latter will naturally
produce for himself the required distinctions. This process of
recognizing differences is native to the mind, and goes on, there-
fore, spontaneously and largely unconsciously. The teacher
has rather to incite it and rely upon it, than to create or con-
sciously manipulate it. If suitable material is presented, the
pupil's mind will be almost as sure to act upon it properly,
without specific guidance, as his digestive organs will be sure
to digest wholesome food without being told how to do it

The awakening and developing:; of mental appetites or interests^
and preparing apt material for them to work upon, give wide
enough scope to the teacher's ability without his attempting to
show the pupil's mind just 1 ow it must work. The right use of
object lessons, of definite and precise statements in text-books,
of talks and lectures by the teacher, etc, etc., are all covered
by the three heads of arousing interest, of presenting material
properly arranged and of preparatory mental activity. The
native, distinguishing capacities of the mind must be trusted
for the rest, and if the teacher succeeds in securing the
conditions just mentioned, he need have no doubt about the
result The mind is always seizing uj^on whatever is

* The term ** whole," howevei, is here used in a psychological not
in a spatial sense. Because the world is really the whole of which
geography treats, it does not follow that it is the whole with which the
child's mind naturally begins. Or because the sentence is a grammatical
whole, it does not follow that it is the psychological outline first in a
child'i mind.

INTELLECl'UAL DEVELOPMENT.

presented, noticing differences, subdividing, comparing, and
producing new distinctions. It cannot work at all without going
through these operations. Discrimination is a fundamental
mental capacity.

4. The Teacher must depend ^ similarly, upon the Synthetic Func-
tion of Mind. — i'he mind naturally works towards unity, as it
does towards definitcness. If the teacher awakens a genuine
appetite for facts and reasons, and by all metliods at his com-
mand, presents material so that this appetite y&fed, and not pam-
pered on the one hand, or repressed on the other, the pupil's mind
willinstinctively work towards the underlying relations of things.
Ideas grow together in the mind ; centres of psychical gravita-
tion are formed about which ideas of a like kind gather ; and
these centres become organs for the apperception of hke ideas
in the future. If the mind works upon facts of like kind and
along the lines which connect them, the time will surely come
when it will no/:ce these connections and the similarities.
First, unconscious growth towards unifyin.^ or i^rouping facts, then
conscious recognition of the unities, classes and kuvs, is the order
of nature.

5. Neither Facts alone, fior Relations alone, but Relate' I Facts
should be Taught. — It is now generally recognized in theory, at
least, that it is an educational blunder to cram the mind with a
mass of isolated facts, regarded simply as facts, apart from their
reasons. It may be questioned whether there has not been, in
some quarters, a reaction to the opposite extreme, and whether
reasons, relations, causes, are not presented at too early a period.
For example, many teachers require pupils that are little more
than beginners in arithmetic, to write out examples in addition,
subtraction, etc., with a statement of the exact leason for every
operation performed. Teachers have been known to explain
to children beginning technical grammar, the difference between
a percept and a concept, in order to make them understand the

«4

INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT.

difference between a common and a proper noun ! If a florist
were not content with supplying a plant with all necessary,
material for its growth, and with then allowing it to produce
fruit naturally, but should insist upon analyzing the flower in
order to find "the seed within it, he would be acting on pre-
cisely the same principle.

Facts, in and of themselves, have relations to one another, or
explain^ that is, furnish reasons for one another. The mind
also has an instinctive tendency to connect facts and search for
reasons. Now, if facts be taught according to the relation
which unites them, and if interest be awakened in the mind in
assimilating the facts, the mind can hardly help, even if it
would, a final discovery of the rehition. The teacher must
have the greatest confidence in the rationality of facts, when
they are rightly connected, and in the native tendency of the
mind to develop itself through, first, unconscious appropriation
of this rationality, and, second, conscious recognition of it. If
the teacher will but have confidence in facts and in intelligence,
he will not try himself to take the place both of the facts and of
the pupil's mind.

6. The so-called Faculties of Mind are Successive Stages in
the Development of Inieliigencc. — I'hese faculties are Perception,
Memory, Imagination, and Thinking. They are sometimes
treated as independent powers of mind, having no connection
with one another, excepting that they all happen to belong to
the same being. But, in reality, they are the results of the
progressive growth of intelligence in representative, ideal
and related character. The same activities, the same prin-
ciples run through all, but in various degrees of development.

1. Perception This may be defined as the recognition of
some particular object now present in space, as, for example, this
particular tree, this particular blade of grass, this particular
pebble, etc., such knowledge is

INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT.

(i) BofA presentative and representative. — It is presentative,
because baser! on actual sensation. It is representative, because
this sensation does not constitute the perception excepting in
connection with what it st^rnds for. Take, for example, the
perception of this tree. As 1 stand here, I see it at a distance
of twenty feet. The only sensations that I get from it now are,
therefore, those of color and the muscular sensations which I
have as my eye turns from one point of light to another. The
representative elements are the form, size, height and distance of
the tree ; the feeling it would give if I had power to touch it ; its
wider, unseen, structure and arrangement ; the kind of tree, as
e. g. a maple, and all the scientific knowledge that I have of its
modes of growth and reproduction, etc., etc. The very few
sensations, which I have, symbolize all the qualities which are not
actively {that is sensibly) present.

\ I

(2) // is Largely Ideal. — These representative factors are
ideal. They are supplied from the mind, not given in the
actual affection of sense. All the meaning, the significance,
that the present perception has, is supplied from what the mind
has preserved of former experience. The mind, on the basis
of its own content, thus idealizes the given sensation, into the
complex idea of the tree.

(3) // is Largely made up of RelatioJis. — The relations which
are most prominent in perception are those of space. The
object is at a certain distance, has a certain position, form,
surface and bulk. Each of these qualities is relative. Distance
is measured from my body or from some other object ; posi-
tion is the place of the object with reference to other objects;
its form is its relation to bodies that bound it, etc. We perceive
an object, therefore, only by relating it to other objects. A
body absolutely isolated cannot be perceived at all. Such
relations, (that is spatial ones) are, however, largely external

INTELLECrUAL DEVELOPMENT.

The relation of one body to another in space may be changed
without chiinging its own nature.

2. Memory. — This, in its most complete sense, may be
defined as the reproduction of some event or Uea once present to
mind but not now so, with a reference of it to its proper place in
time. My remembrance of a railway accident, for example, is
complete when I can reproduce all its details, and also tell
when it occurred, that is, place or date it with reference to pre-
ceding and to succeeding events. Such reproductions are

(i) Largely Representative. — The representative element is
greater than in perception, for, in the latter, the sensation which
is present, say of color, represents other sensations of weight,
contact, taste, etc., which might be made present, if only we
applied our other senses. But in memory, both the remem-
bered event and the time in which it occurred have vanished,
and we could not make them present if we wished. We
represent not what we could experience, but what we have
experienced.

( 2) // is Largely Ideal. — The memory of pain is not itself a
pain ; the memory of the sun does not shine ; the memory of
an apple does not taste, etc. etc. Memory, in other words, is
largely divested of sensible qualities, and is mental or ideal in
nature.

(3) // Consists of Relations. — In .memory, we extend the
sphere of relations beyond those of space to those of time. Wc
fix the object or event not only with reference to co-existing
objects, but with reference to those that go before and those
that come after. An event can no more be fixed in absolute
time, independent of relation to other events, than an object
can be located in absolute space. It is the extent of relations
involved that makes it so difficult for young children to have
any idea of the duration of experiences, or of the times when
they occurred.

INTELLECTUAL DLVELOPMENT.

3. Imagination. — Imagination is the power 0/ producing
ideas without any reference to our own past experience. — Suppose
that instead of recalling some railway accident which we
ourselves have experienced, we attempt to picture it to our-
selves. We frame mental pictures of the moving trains, of
their collision, of the crash, of the escaping steam, etc etc., — and
all this without ever having experienced any such combination
of incidents. Here we have imagination. It is evidently
closely allied to memory in two ways. /// the first place^ we
must even in memory, picture or image, what is not present, and
thus use a kind of imagination. In the second piace, we very
rarely recall events just as they happened ; we leave out unim-
portant details, we re-arrange the details according to some
plan or system, we gradually and unconsciously shift the rela-
tions of facts, and even sometimes transform the facts them-
selves. In so doing, we are virtually making new combinations,
we are imagining.

Persons who have formed decided recollections of important
events that happened years before, are often startled upon
coming upon an actual description of the experience ( per-
haps even written by themselves) at the time it occurred, to see
the difference between the fact and their recollection of it. The
latter ha? become a work of fancy, and this has happened
simply by the natural laws of the development of reproduction,
without any intention on the part of the person concerned to
alter or distort. -^<f-[ production always tends to bring out the
universal, the typical, to neglect the accidental and insignifi-
cant, and thus passes gradually into prodtution. Imagination
might be called idealized memory — memory which has lost its
personal reference to our own experience and become general-
ized. Thus art, the product of imagination, has been termed
" the world's memory of things." In the same sense poetry
has been pronounced truer than history.

II !

kl:i>

INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT.

The productions of imagination are thus —

(i) Both Representative and Ideal. — The image which wc
make for ourselves need not correspond to anything now
present, or ever present, either to ourselves or to another. Or,
it may correspond to what indeed is not present, but to what
would be present if our senses were greatly enlarged and our
vision into things deepened. In the latter case, it represents
real but unperceived and unremembered facts. Professor Tyn-
dall thus gives to imagination a very high place in the develop-
ment of science. It may also represent not what is capable of
being present, but what we should like to be present, if we
could have our way, if we cou.d reconstruct affairs about us.
Imagination thus reshapes the actual order and under the influ-
ence of love and desire gives birth to ideals^ which in turn be-
come guides to conduct.

(a) // Involves Wide Relations, — Imagination, as it is more
representative and ideal, deals with wider relations than
memory and perception. Its relations are not confined to
space and time. Indeed, it frees its images from the limita-
tions of place and of time, and contemplates them in their uni-
versal significance. Take the old story of Sir Isaac Newton
and the fall of the apple. As a matter of perception he saw
the fall of this particular apple ; in memory he could call up
the falling of many material bodies, of all he had ever experi-
enced. By imagination he grasped the fall of this apple as
significant of relations of all material bodies to one another ; he
saw embodied in it, relations as wide as the material universe.
This illustrates the usual working of imagination in its higher
forms. It idealizes some particular fact or idea, and makes it
typical of a whole group of facts ; it utiiversalizes the fact or
idea.

4. Thinking. — This may be defined as the recognition of
universal factors or of relations in their connections with one an-
othtr and with particular f cuts. While we perceive, or remem-

INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT.

bcr, or imagine something particular, some given object, or
event, or person, we think what is general. In thinking, we do
not deal, for example, with any particular rose or geranium, but
with the class of roses or of geraniums ; with the relations that
make the rose what it is as a rose, independent of the peculiar-
ities which any one individual rose may happen to possess.
So, while the mathematician may have before him a particular
triangle drawn on a certain blackboard, yet his demonstra-
tions do not concern this triangle, but deal with triangles in
general, when he proves that the three interior angles are
together equal to two right angles. In thinking, the particular
is degraded to be simply a sign, or instance, or illustration of
the general law or relation. It is of no value in itself, but
simply as standing for a universal.

Thinking deals accordingly with representative, ideal and re-
lated factors.

(i) They are representative, for, as just said, the presentation
has no value of its own ; its worth is entirely in its capacity to
stand for a law or a class. It is a sign like the x of the alge-
braist, having per se no value ; and having its value finally de-
termined by what it is discovered to stand for.

(2) That which is thus signified is ideal. The universal has
no existence as a separate thing in time or space. It is the
significance or meaning which is general, ana meaning is ideal.
When we speak of having a general idea of a rose, for example,
this does not mean that we think of some object somewhere
existing, which is a universal rose. Nor does it mean that
we are able to frame an idea of a rose in general, that is of
qualities common to all roses, and excluding all qualities pecu-
liar to each. Any idea we frame must be of a rose of certain
size, color, form, etc. ; it must be particular. It is just like the
triangle drawn on the board ; we can make only some par-
ticular triangle, not triangle in general. What is general is the
power which the particular has of standing for, or symbolizing, a

INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT.

relation or group of relations. In other words, the general
factor lies neither in some one actual object, nor in an actual
idea, but in the relations of a particular object — in the significance
of a particular idea.

(3) Thinking is an Explicit Process of Grasping Relations.
Relations are implied, involved in perception, memory and imagi-
nation, but tliinking deals expressly and openly with the rela-
tions and with nothing else. The mind discriminates and
identifies in those earlier stages, and in thinkmg it simply aims
consciously at discovering unities and differences ; the whole
process is one of conscious analysis and synthesis.

Educational Principle. -7%^ Teacher should ahvays
keep in Mind that Perception^ Memory, Imagination and Think-
ing are Stages of Mental Development^ and that one grows
naturally out of another. — Much harm has resulted in peda-
gogy from treating these stages of development as if they were
independent faculties, having no connection with one another.
When this is laid down as a fundamental principle of psy-
chology, unity of education is lost ; each " faculty " is then
trained by separate methods. There is one process to train
perception, another to train memory, another for thinking, etc.
The inevitable result is so great a number of " methods " that
both teacher and pupil are burdened. Again, this separation
is abnormal, not corresponding to any psychological fact The
methods employed are, therefore, artificial as well as too nu-
merous. Spontaneity and interest are thus killed. Above all,
the multipli^fition of separate and artificial methods is wasteful
of mental energies, and inefficient in results. But in reality
each ** facult) " is but a stage in the increasing growth of
knowledge in symbolic or representative character, in meaning
or significance, in generality and in definiteness. No arbitrary
line separates one from another ; much less does each have an
independent and isolated principle of activity. It follows that

^. .

TRAINING OF PERCEPTION.

the right education of perception is at the same time a training
of memory, and the proper education of memory insures the
correct development of imagination and of thought. Any right
method trains intellectual function and, there '^y, trains each faculty.
These topics will now occupy us in more detail.

§ 2. PERCEPTION.

The training of perception should be considered by the

teacher both (i) in itself, and, (2) in its reference to other

stages, a preparation for them.

Perception is the most immediate and presentative of all the stages of
knowledge, and hence is the closest to sensation. There can be no per-
ception except when there is an object aflfecting the senses, and the rich-
ness of the perception will depend on the degree in which the senses are
exercised. What has been said regarding sensation should, therefore, be
again refered to.

(1) The Training of Perception in Itself— This
should be of such a character as: (i) To render the percept —
what is perceived — accurate and complete; (2) To render the
perception independent, and (3) To form the habit of
observation.

I. Accuracy and Fullness. — Very few persons see jtist what is
before them, or see it in its fullness, for seeing is using the
mind, not opening the eyes or staring with them. To avoid
hazy perceptions, those which slur over the object and report
it in a dim way, or only partially, the mind must be active.
There must be mental alertness instead of indolence and
inertia. In the earlier stages of life, this alertness and tlie corre-
sponding degree of definiteness of perception, are ensured by
the child's physical activity — the attempts to reproduce the
object, to imitate it, to get hold of it, to do something with it ;
and in c;vrrying out any course of action, in making anything,
there is necessarily a process of taking apart and putting to.
grther, which is the best possible preparation for future mental
analysis and synthesis. These activities- as previously sug-

- 'ii

INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT.

gested. may be carried into the school Folding, weaving,
drawing, modelling, etc., all of them make perception accurate,
because all of them require an unconscious analysis, at least, of
the features of the object, and then a recombination of them
into a new whole. Such activities exercise the mind as well
as the senses.

Principle further Applied. — The teacher should strive to have the
pupil carry the same spirit of enquiry into subjects where chiefly mental
analysis and synthesis are required. The student's mind should always
be in a questioning attitude ; what features has this object, this event ?
How do they go together to make the whole? What have I known like it?
What of the same kind, and yet different ? and so on. It is a mistake to
carry on a recitation simply as a test of memory : its primary end should
be to test the original perception ; to discover what the student has grasped»
and should (without confusing him) leave him with such a sense of imper.
feet perception as to stimulate him to renewed perceptive activity.

2. Independence. — In the higher grades of education, fresh-
ness and originality should be aimed at. This does not mean
necessarily that the student should make original discoveiies,
that he should see what no one else has ever seen. But it
does mean that he is to observe/^/- himself ; that, so far as he
is concerned, what he perceives is to be a discovery, whether
it is for other people or not. Every teacher knows that there
is a tendency on the part of the pupil to fall into the habit of
seeing only what he is expected to see, of seeing what is repre-
sented by others to be before him, rather than what is actually
presented. Perception thus becomes barren and conventional.

Agassiz was accustomed to put his pupils at a microscope, and giving
them no idea of what was to be seen, compel them to look for themselves
until they had observed everything possible. Whether this is the best
method of accomplishing the result or not, there is no doubt about the de-
sirability of the pupil's using his own mental powers in perception, rather
than following the r<:ports of others.

3. Habit of Observation. — Far more important than the per-
ception of any object or number of objects, no matter how ac-

TRAINING OF PERCEPTION.

curate and comprehensive the percepts may be, is the formation
of a habit of observation. A pupil who leaves school on the
look-out, with his senses wide awake and keen for whatever is
presented, and with a knowledge of how to employ them, has
the most perfect equipment the teacher can provide him with,
80 far as perception is concerned. The trainwg of the Jower
to observe should be the prime object, rather than the actual
observation of a certain number of things. This power involves
three elements : (i) An interest in natural objects amounting
to sympathy with and love for them ; (2) An attention which
is both alert and under control ; and (3) Ability to use the sense-
organs, especially the eye, the car and the hand, as instruments^
just as one would use the microscope or the pencil

(2) Perception in its Relation to other Stages.—

The other stages of knowledge are developed from perception
by a natural process of growth. It is their germ. Unless,
therefore, perception is rightly educated, memory suffers, not
merely because it is not supplied with sufficient material to
remember, but because the functions which enter into memory
itself are feeble and imperfectly developed. So, too, there
will not only be less material for imagination and reason to
work upon, but the mental activities which are necessary for
imagination and reason will be defective. A training of per-
ception is, therefore, necessary not only for knowledge of
things which are and may be perceived, but for the sake of
knowledge of what may never be, or perhaps cannot be, under
actual observation. For example, a child will learn about
many things in his geography and history lessons which, from
the nature of the case, he cannot perceive ; foreign countries
and their productions ; past epochs and their customs. Now,
these things will either mean nothing to tlie pupil, or will be
thought of in analogy with what he does perceive. The pupil
will extend and combine his own past perceptions till they seem

INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT.

:!i^

to convey to him the required idea. We thus derive the im-
portant principle :

All that a child hears or reads about, if not itself matter oj
perception^ will be trans/at d into perceptions alnady familiar, and
only as so translated ivill it have any meaning. The teacher
must absolutely see, therefore,

(a) That the child has a sufficiently wide store of actual per-
ceptions before he goes into fields which demand representative
ideas, and .

(b) That the child connects ideas which are given to him in
a representative way (from the teactier or from the text book)
with some actual perception, and with the perception best
fitted to render the representative idea significant ; that is, there
must be illustrative teacliing, and the teacher must take care
that the illustrations ai)peal to clear and adequate perceptions.

Possible Errors. — It is easy to blame a pupil for ideas
that seem ridiculous and absurd, when really his having such
ideas shows that he is doing his best to translate unknown
toHcs into what is familiar and significant. That his transla-
tion is inadequate or erroneous, is rather the fault of the teacher
than of the pupil. It should also be remembered that to put
constantly before pupils representative ideas which they cannot
make over into perceptions previously experienced, is to burden
the mind with what is meaningless. And the evil does not stop
with loading the mind with this mass of dead matter. In the
meaningless, the mind cannot take any interest It is interested
only in what has some connection with itself; interest has even
been defined as the relation of an impression to a group of ideas
in the mind. If, therefore, there is no connection between
what is c ■■/'-' to the mind to learn, and its own store of expe-
riv?' :s IK. ■ °>.^ Is an impossibility. And, finally, with the losa
0£ ." :«. v^it ».4ni.ftlix;& the power of paying attention.

TRAINING OF MEMORY.

The Cause of Dullness and Mind-Wandering.— It is a too com

mon exijcrience to find children who at five or six years old are keen and
alert — interested in everything with which they come in contact, become
after six or eight years schooling, dull and listless in all that concerns their
studies. In the great numl^er of cases, the reason undoubtedly is that so
much matter has been put before them which they cannot "apperceive,'"
that is, which thay cannot really bring their minds to bear upon. And the
reason they cm not bring their minds to bear, cannot interpret and assimi-
late, is the lack of previous experiences into which the new material can be
translated. Thus studies become unreal and artificial, belonging to a realm
outside the significant experience of the pupil, and the mind can assume
only a mechanical relation to what is learned.

§ 3. MEMORY.

For the teacher's purposes, memory may be defined as the
power of ^etiin:;^ anything into the mind so that it can be got out
again when wa'iled. One factor then concerns tlie original
getting of a thing into the mind^ or learning, the other, the getting
of it out again^ or recollectw.g. Each of these factors depends
chiefly upon attention and, of course, interest, since attention
itself depends upon interest.

(1) Learning. - The chief thing for the teacher to keep in
mind is that the training of memory is, to a very large degree,
training in original apperception — in apprehension and assimi-
lation of what is to be remembered. It may be laid down as a
rule : Do not aim at training memory directly, but
indirectly, through the training of the apperceiv-

ing powers- The attitude of the pupil's mind should be : 1
must perceize this just as it is and in all its bearings ; not, I must
remember this. If the original perception, in other words, is
what it should be, accurate, comprehensive and independent,
memory may be left very largely to take care of itself For the
first step in remembering anything is to get it within the mind,
and apperception is just this getting it within the mind. If this
is thoroughly done, the first step in memory is already taken,
and it needs no special training of its own. We may now
apply this general rule so as to make it more specific

I ■ ■

INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT.

I. A certain amount of material which has, in itself ^ no mean-
iiigy ahvays has to bt memorized. — This includes, to a large
extent, the spelling of words, historical dates, names of coun-
tries, rivers and other geographical data, and, perhaps to a
certain extent, in primary teaching, rudimentary arithmetical
facts. Now, the wrong method of training, that which insists
on the direct training of memory, would pay small attention, or
none, to the original perception of these facts, but would en-
deavor by the force of repetition to get them impressed upon
the mind. The correct method endeavours to see that the pupil's
interest is aroused, that he pays keen attention, and that he forms
a lively and definite idea of what he is to remember. If he is
to learn to spell " deceive," he is not to do it by a mechanical
repetition of the letters one after another till they are graven
into his memory, but by a perception of them, based on interest
in the form and structure of the the word, and by holding the
mind in strong tension to see just what should be seen and
nothing else. If the child performs this act of interested and
lively perception, and if he is occasionally called upon to
reproduce his knowledge, there is not much danger that he
will forget the word. And so with memorizing the other
classes of facts mentioned. The teacher thus best cultivates
memory by arousing interest, keeping the senses sharp and
tense, and by allowing memory to grow out of the resulting
l^erception.

2. There is also material to be memorized, which consists in the
consecutive statement of matters of fact — It differs from what was
included in the first class in that it has meaning of its own ;
but it consists of facts rather than of reasons for the facts. It
includes the largest part of historical and of geographical studies,
and of elementary physical science. Here again it is original
apperception that needs most looking after. " Learning by
heart/' in the sense of impressing the facts upon the mind by
the force of sheer repetition, should not be permitted. It may

TRAINING OF MEMORY.

be necessary to learn many of the iwp07tant statements so that
they can be repeated exactly^ and it will probably be necessary
to use repetition: but the I'tcral memorizing should be accom.
plished through the ways in which the statements are appre-
hended, and repetition should be used as an aid to the appre-
hension, and not as the basis of the memory.

" Learning by Heart." — Tliis, as a process of memorizing by repeat-
ing the subject-matter over and over till it is fixed in mind, is faulty for
four reasons.

( 1 ) // employs only sensttotis association. The mind has to form some associa-
tions, even in such memorizing, but it forms only associations between the
sounds of the words, or their visible appearances. There is no association
of the ideas involved.

(2) // leaves the mind passive. What is learned is impressed upon the
mind, not produced by the mind's activity. The result of treating the mind
as a wax-tablet is always that the various impressions bhir and blot out one
another, and that finally the wax is worn out, and there is left only a
hard surface which will not receive impressions. The common complaint
that memory fails with increase of years is largely due to this misuse of
memory. In childhood there is without doubt a very great impressibility
of the senses. The mind is plastic and sensations are vivid. The result is
that sensuous associations are easily formed. But as impressions grow less
vivid, and sensations become common place, this plasticity and the forming
power of sensuous associations is greatly impaired.

(3) The mind being passive, only receiving impressions, // is burdened by
what it remembers. This does not enter into the mental structure and is
thus a load for it to carry. It may be laid down as an axiom that whatever
does not help the mind hinders it ; whatever does not aid the mind to
group new material is a strain on mental energy.

(4) The senses^ rather than the mind, bein^ engaged, the habit of mind-
vjanderitig is produced. One of the commonest sources of inability to con-
centrate attention and keep it fixed, is that the pupil has been accustomed to
memorize by the mere repetition of sense impressions while his mind was
really occupied with something else.

It is to be borne in mind that the foregoing remarks apply to learning-by«

heart as a mechanical process in which only verbal associations are formed.

If learning-by-heart includes — as it ought to include — an appeal to the

intelligetue^ it becomes of high value in education ; it is accordingly to be

i
I

i.i'

INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT.

regretted that, in the just reaction against mere rott learnings there is a
pernicious tendency to disparage the memory and especially to eliminate
from " modern " methods the truly educating practice of intelligently
learning by heart selections from the masterpieces of our literature.

Reliance upon Association and Attention.—

What has been said should not be taken to mean that the senses
are not to be employed to the utmost in memorizing. On the
contrary, whatever vividness and plasticity the senses possess,
should be utilised. But they should be employed in subordi-
nation to the mental functions. The senses are good servants
but poor masters ; they should be used in memorizing, just in
the degree in which they are necessary to dmr^ vivid and Jitli
apperception, and no further.

Association of Ideas. — On the positive side, it may be
said that memorizing should rest upon the association of ideas,
not of sensations. That is, what the sensations mean what
they convey to the mind, should be connected j and, so far as
possible, the kinds of connection, whether of contiguity or of
similarity, should be noticed. It will be found a great aid, even
in teaching young pupils, to point out the way in which facts
are connected.

Analysis and Synthesis — The constant employment
of the functions of analysis and synthesis should be relied upon.
The student may, for example, first read over the whole lesson,
reading it with attentive mind, and not with his eyes alone ; that
is, interpreting it by his present store of knowledge, and as
similating it to that as far as possible. Thus he will gain a
general idea of the whole ; then let him go over the subject
again, making the various parts of the whole definite^ and getting
them in their relations to one another. If the material is suited
to the pupil's stage of development, that is, if he can grasp its
bearing and properly apperceive it, then by the time he has ap-
prehended the material as a whole and in its parts, it will gen-
erally be found that no special draft upon the specific capacity
of memory is requisite i in taking it in, he has memorized it

rgj — rz

TRAINING or MEMORY.

3. Th^e is material to be learned consisting in the relations of
(omplex Ideas. — This includes subjects like higher mathematics,
political economy, psychology, the more advanced stages of na-
tural science, etc. Such material has meaning in itself, and also
states, either expressly or by implication, reasons for the facts, as
well as the facts themselves. Here the main principle, that
memory is a function dependent upon original apprehension, still
holds good. Such material must be understood and the process
of understanding it, of developing relations and tracing their
connections with one another, is a process of making it over
into mental structure, and, therefore, fulfils the first requisite of
memory. To memory in this third and highest stage, the state-
ment of a French author that memory should be the cradle and
not the tomb of an idea, is particularly applicable. Such mate-
rial when taken into the memory, should not lie dormant, but
should be constantly assimilating material to itself, so as finally
to re-appear in transformed and enriched shape.

Forgotten Knowledge- — It is on this ground that we are able to
answer the question often asked as to the benefit of studies, such e, g.^ as
Greek Grammar and the Calculus, which; are often forgotten after leaving
school, by one who never uses them. There is not only the/ormal benefit,
the discipline of the mental powers employed in learning these subjects,
but there is a material benefit. While the person may not be able to recall
just what he learned, he yet remembers it in the sense that it has been trans-
formed into new mental growths. It has been changed into assimilating
power — into mental function. This accounts for the paradoxical statement
sometimes made, that one never remembers till one has forgotten.

(2) Recollection. — Beside learning or getting the subject-
matter into the mind, there is recoi/ectini^, or drawing it forth
again when desired. Correct appreiiension greatly aids ready
and correct recalling, for correct apprehension takes hold of the
connections of ideas in what is learnt, and thus makes it easy
and almost necessary for the mind to pass from one idea already
present to another which it wishes to make present. If the
association is merely sensuous, however, there, is nothing inter-

' I

too

INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT.

nal to connect the facts or objects, and hence recollection may
be broken off at any point. Aside from this, however, recollec-
tion depends upon (i) Repetition and (2) Attention,

I. Repetition. — If the original act of apprehension has been
an interested and an attentive one, difficulty of recollection wil/
generally be found to be due to the multiplicity of associations
that arise. The idea that is already in the mind, instead of
suggesting the idea desired, starts a number of allied ideas.
Thus, it will be found that the reason why an illiterate man
seems to have a better memory than an educated one, or a
child than an adult, is that the child and the illiterate have,
comparatively, so few experiences that there is less difticulty in
passing from one to another. When there are a great number
ot associations clustered about the same id^a, they run into and
obstruct one another. The best means of obviating this is fre-
quent repetition of that association dix'med most important, until
the mind acts more easily along that line than along the lines
of other associations. Each exercise of an associative activity
strengthens capacity in that direction, and, makes subsequent
exercise easier.

Reviews. — From what has been ahcady said, it will be understood that
repetition is not to bo mechanical but active. That is, it is not to be a
repetition of the impression upon the mind, but of the activity by which the
impression is apprehendeil. In the ^real majority of cases it will be found
that mastery of a subject depends less upon its first reception into the mimi
than upon the frequent ^t^oin^ over of what ri'as then learned. To use the com.
parison of a recent writer, just as a military officer must daily review his
troops to see that they are in proper condition for battle, so a student must
constantly review his ideas to keep them fresh and ready for use.

a. Attention, — In this connection, we do not refer co the use
of attention in the original apprehension, but m the act o?" recol-
lection. The machinery of recollection is as follows : There is
an idea in the mind which has either been contiguous to the
idea we wish to recall, or is similar to it. By the laws of asso-

PERCEPTION.

101

elation, therefore, the present idea will suggest what is wanted.
Wiien we say ive recollect, it is really one idea or a group of
ideas which recalls, or redintegrates, the other. But it may fail
to suggest the other s))ontaneously. It is then necessary to
\)^y 2i\\QW\\oxi\.o all fad ors connected with what we wish to re-
call^ and thus stimulate them to suggest what is wanted. In
other words, the will cannot aid directly in reccjllecting, bui
only indirectly by dwelling upon associated flictors. It is these
factors which, working by continuity or similarity, bring about
the recollection. If, for example, we wish to recall some one's
name, we think of where we met him, who introduced him,
what was said, etc.; we go over the letters of the alphabet, to try
whether the name will be suggested by its initial letter. Thus
we start by attention a number o{ converging associations to pro-
duce what is wanted. If the original act of apperception was
one of mental connection, of analysis and synthesis, this pro-
duction will easily occur.

§4. IMAGINATION.
Of all the stages of intelligence. Imagination is the least
capable of dii ect training. As reasons tor this fact, may be
mentioned, (i) its free character, (2) its individual nature and
(3) the unconscious mode of its growth.

I. Imagination is free in that it is not bound down by any
external laws. It is not, like perception and memory, under
constraint to actual experience \ nor to logical rules like think-
ing. Objects of perception may be put before a pupil and he
can be directed as to what and how to see, — and the resulting
perceptions can be tested by questioning. Lessons to memo-
rize may be given the student, and he can be examined to find
out what he remembers. But the pupil cannot be told to
imagine, cannot have rules laid do^^^l for him to follow, cannot
be examined on the results of hkis imaginings. The free nature
of imagination puts it beyond such external direction and re-
straint

loa

IMAGINATION.

2. Imagination is personal^ individual^ taking its spring in
feeling and desire rather than from information or logical pro-
cesses. Its birthplace is in what is most intimate to the soul
itself; it is the reflex of hope, love, reverence and admiration.
Thus it cannot be pried into from without ; nor can it be
greatly stimulated from without, excepting by awakening the
feelings. A child's imagination is often so deeply personal that
it cannot be treated with too great reserve ; too close scrutiny
or guidance is violation of the child's personality.

3. Imagination does not grow by the conscious following of
certain methods, or from the formal study of certain subjects,
but by unconscious steps. It grows with the development of the
child in power of feeling and desiring ; it grows by what it
feeds upon, beautiful scenes, pictures, poems, ideas, characters.
Its roots are in the underlying forces of human nature, funda-
mental instincts and feelings, which rarely come into conscious-
ness, and which, if forced into consciousness, lose their spon-
taneity and value. Thus a child questioned about his imagina-
tion, will often conceal his real fancies entirely, or will pro-
duce an artificial product, either conventional or strained and
mawkish in sentimentality.

The training cf the imagination must, therefore, be largely
indirect. This indirect training may come about (i) Through
cultivation of its modes of expression ; (2) Through cultivation
of the feelings that find their outlet in imagination, and (3)
Through presentation of material— scenes of nature, works of
art, fine literature — fitted at once to awaken and guide
imagination.

I. It is natural for the imagination to project itself; to
attempt tc embody its images in outward form. These out-
ward modes of expression may be very largely guided and con-
trolled without interfering unduly with the inward moods and
dispositions whence they flow. Drawing, modelling, designing,

IMAGINATION.

163

even plaiting, sticklaying and machine work, may be made, not
only means of training the impulses, the sense-organs and the
functions of intelligence, but also the imagination. Composi-
tion-work and essay-writing are means which should not be
neglected ; the choice of subjects and the mode ot treatment,
both being of importance,

2. The cultivation of the feelings, which shape the material
provided by the senses and by memory, and which give rise to
the ideals that the images try to express, may be treated under
two heads.

(1) The Personal Influence of the Teacher.— It

is feelings of love, of admiration, and of desire for something
not attained, that underlie imagination in all its higher forms.
Imagination must be unselfish ; one who is wholly interested in
his own needs and appetites and in their satisfaction, will not be
able to get outside of himself, and hence will not be able either
to produce or to notice external beauty. The emotions and the
mood, which predispose to imagination, must be left largely to
the vital influence and personal sympathy of the teacher. The
enthusiasm and the devotion of the teacher for whatever is
worthy of admiration, will go further than any set methods.

(2) The Development of Religious Emotions.—

The imagination is an idealizing and universalizing power. It
attempts to clothe all objects with beautiful forms; to find
them significant of ideals. It takes the mind beyond its own
experiences of perception and memory into what is general,
what has no concern with private enjoyments. Imagination
thus tends to take the mind beyond the present and the appa-
rent. Hence its kinship to religious emotions and ideas. Early
religious ideas are at once the product of the imagination and
the most influential means of forming it. Religious emotions,
reverence, and especially awe, the objects of religious worship,

^
«(

I04

IMAGINATION.

I' '

especially the great personalities of religion, if rightly presented
to a child, call out imagination more than ainiost anything else.

3. Imagination must have material to feed upon. Imagina
tion is the outgrowth of perception and memory ^ and unless these
supply a rich and varied material, it will be defective or un-
healthy. Whileoriginatingin the emotions, imagination should
not feed upon them, but upon outward objects, scenes and
ideas ; imagination which both springs from and lives upon the
emotions will be morbid and unhealthy. Material proper for
imagination to work on may be classified as follows :

(1) Natural Scenes. — Taking children into the woods, to
lakes and mountains, calling their attention to sunsets, clouds
and all the forms of animate and inanimate nature, are highly
important. The beautifying of the school-room with flowers
with works of art, etc., the inculcation of care for whatever is
beautiful, are means that tell with great effect. An im
portant step in the training of imagination is tiken when a child
realizes that a beautiful object, simply because it is beautiful*
should not be destroyed, or sacrificed to his own needs.

(2) Studies like Geography and History.— These
studies take the pupil beyond himself, one in the direction of
space, the other of time. They should be taught almost as
much as means of widening and deepening the imagination, as
of furnishing the mind with information.

(3) The Study of Literature.— The products of the

imagination of the race, as embodied in literature, are perhaps
the most influential means of training the imagination. For
young children, that literature is the best which is the uncon-
scious product of races and of peoples rather than of the con-
scious invention of individuals. Fairy tales, folk-lore, myths*
historic epics, and traditions are natural and healthy. There
is a connection between the childhood of the race and of the

mmram^mxiii mm ii, i i -_i...».";tf

TRAINING OP THINKING.

105

individual that makes such literature peculiarly appropriate for
the imaginations of youthful minds. As the child grows older
he should be introduced, of course, to more conscious literary
products, the preference being given to such as are narrative
rather than subjective. Sir Walter Scott will appeal to chil-
dren whom Shelley or Wordsworth will leave untouched.
Upon the whole, also, preference should be given to literature
produced as literature, rather t^an to works of imagination pro-
duced expressly for children.

§ 5. TSlNKINO.

The stage of intellectual development next higher than imagi-
nation is thinking. It is important for the teacher to notice that
the training of thinking may be either direct or indirect ; that
is, it may be by means whose specific end is the development
of reasoning power, or it may be by methods, which in them-
selves, are directed toward the development of other powers,
but which, nevertlieless, tend towards the education of th ought.

1. Indirect Training. — Thinking, since it is not an iso-
lated faculty, but a stage of mental development, must have
implied within it the same mental processes (association and
attention), the same mental functions (analysis and synthesis) as
perception, memory and imagination. Of necessity, therefore,
any correct training of perception, etc. , is at the same time a train-
ing of the power of thinking. There is no abstract faculty of
thinking, that is no faculty apart from what is thought about :
there is simply the power of dealing with certain kinds of mental
relations and products, and this is an outgrowth, a development
of preceding powers. These statements may be illustrated in
more detail by considering the relations of the various mental
stages to (i) generalization, (2) relation, (3) retention.

(1) Generalization. — Thinking is, as previously shown,
generalizing ; it is dealing with the universal factor. The

T— ="

io6

TRAINING OP THtNKINa

general factor is implied or involved in the lower stages. It is
a mistake to suppose that there are two kinds of knowledge,
one particular, the other general. There are two factors^ one
particular, the other general, in every kind of knowledge^ and
thinking differs from perception only in the more explicit de-
velopment and conscious recognition of the universal factor.
When we perceive that this something now before us is a book,
we generalize or classify. We bring this particular thing under
a wider class or genus, and ascribe to the particular the relations
which the genus or class possesses. There is involved, there-
fore, in the simplest perception an unconscious recognition at
least, of the identity of the present experience with something
else. This generalization is also a process of reasoning. We
conclude, or infer, that this something is a book, because of cer-
tain similarities between what is presented and the general no-
tion of book.

(2^ Relation. — Thinking is comparison with a view to
recognizing relations, identity and diflference. It involves con-
scious analysis and conscious synthesis. I'hese functions appear
in thinking as induction and as deduction — induction being the
recognition of the one common law, in the midst of diverse,
particular facts j deduction^ the application of the general law to
some particular fact as a case coming under it. Induction
begins with particulars and advances to the universal relation
implied within them ; as when Newton advanced from the
study of particular heavenly bodies to the discovery of the law
of gravitation. Deduction begins with the imiversal and brings
some particular under it, as when we say that since the law of
gravitation applies to all heavenly bodies, it must apply to
some newly discovered comet, although we have not discovered
as matter of observation, that it does apply. Now, since all
knowledge requires the functions of discrimination and identi-
fication, and induction and deduction are only the higher de<
velopments of these fanctioos, all knowledge is, to some degree,
A preparation for reasoning.

i» " 1 »-

TRAINING OF THINKINa

to7

(3) Retention. — There roes on, in retention, an uncon-
scious assimilation which groups facts about some common
centre and according to some common principle. Every one
has had the experience of learning some branch of study, as
algebra, without having comprehended all of it ; but a year or
two later, upon returning to this subject, it appears clear and
even simple. The facts seem to have fallen into their right
relations, and to be just what they should be. In other words,
the results of thinking have been obtained, and this without the
conscious exercise of thought. This would not have occurred,
indeed, had the algebraic knowledge lain inert in the mind, but
the use of it, the employment of relations similar to those
learned in algebra, have performed for r.s what thinking would
perform. This result inevitably follows, whenever knowledge
once appropriated^ is afterwards used. The relations implied
within it become explicit ; perception and memory, in other
words, have grown into reason.

From the facts that knowledge retained and organically as-
simulated becomes thought ; from the facts that generalization
and relation are involved in all mental stages, we gather this
law : The power of reasoning is a natural and necessary growth
from the powers of perception, memory and imagifiation, provided
these are trained rationally, that is according to true psychological
principles.

2. Direct Training. — Not all subjects, however, call forth,
to the same extent, the processes of generalizing and relating,
and the power of organic assimilation. Among the subjects
which call them forth the most, and thus give the best training
of thought, may be mentioned langifage and science.

I. Language, — There is a common educational precept that
needs careful interpretation, namely, " Teaeh things, not words.'*
Its only proper meaning is that mere words, or sounds, should
not be taught, but that with the word, the meaning for which

io8

TRAINING OP THINKING.

it stands should be taught. So far as the principle seems to
imply that the development of language is not of the greatest
importance, for the sake of the knowledge of things, as well
as for its own account, the principle is erroneous. Proper train-
ing in words is, in and of itself, one of the most effective me-
thods of training thought. This may be shown (i) with regard
to the employment of words themselves, (2) with regard to
their combination in sentences, and (3) with regard to the com-
bination of sentences.

(1) Words. — "^'^'S^j ;ommon noun is general ; it names a
class and not an individual. Every adjective expresses quality,
and quality is general ; quality is the basis upon which classes
are constiucted. livery verb expresses a mode of action, or of
being, and this again ' ^,... : A ; * to be,* * to run,' * to study,'
are not particular thmors, ai .laticjns. When a child learns
such words (not the sonnets^ but t; >'" words) he is necessarily
performing, although onr uii.onsc" ',, acts of generalization.
When an infant learns the word 'dog, r.. o.ilydoes the object,
the thing, become more definite, because he has now a means
of specifying that object, but he performs an act of classification.
He apprehends, however roughly, the properties possessed by
all animals of this class. ' .

(2) Sentences. — Grammar is the logic of language. Every
structure in language is objectified thought. The unit of
sructure is the sentence, and this corresponds to the unit
of thought, the judgment. In a judgment a relation is af-
firmed, or an act of thought is completed, some connection
between a universal and a particular is stated. A sentence but
manifests this connection, and, if the meaning of the sentence
is understood, it r<iqu!res, however imperfectly, the action of the
same functions of analysis and synthesis that are involved in
judgment

TRAINING or THINKING.

109

(3) Combination of Sentences. — Reasoning is termed, logi-
cally, discourse. This is the consecutive employment of sen-
tences upon some subject, and is, in substance, a process of
reasoning. While the statements of a book are not arranged
in successive syllogisms, they are none the less arranged, if the
book has any system or order, upon logical principles. There is
reason in the presentation, that is, there is classification, group-
ing, selection, movement towards some end. If a pupil really
reads, that is, if he appropriates the meaning, the ,thought in
what he reads, he himself thinks, for he reproduces the connec-
tion, the order and the subordination of ideas.

2. Science. — Scientific knowledge is, of course, the most
perfect expression of orderly thought It is conscious and
explicit statement of relations, of groups of relations, of refer-
ence of fact to law, and law to fact. In each step of science,
description^ classification, explanation, reasoning is concerned.
If then the pupil studies science as he should, that is if he
really reproduces what he learns so as to know what it means,
he is training his thinking powers. Scientific study, therefore,
should be not only the memorizing of facts, or even the train-
ing of observation, but the development of thought. If, on the
one side, the scientific material is properly presented, and if, on
the other side, the pupil really appropriates it, or makes it his
own, the education of the thinking powers will surely be
attained. Natural science gives the best training of the anal-
ytic or inductive powers, mathematical science of the synthetic
or deductive.

rORMS or EMOTIONAL DEVKLOPMKNT.

CHAPTER V.

THE FORMS OF EMOTIONAL DEVELOPMENT.

'!i

We have completed our study of intellectual development,
and turn now to the growth of Feeling. Since the same processes
of attention and association underlie it, and since its develop-
ment is analogous to that of the intellect, it may be treated with
comparative brevity. It may also be mentioned at the outset
that the training of feeling is so largely personal and indirect
that the educator must be left for the most part to apply his
own knowledge of the psychology of the subject without de-
tailed suggestions as to method. The subject may be conveni-
ently treated under the head of I., Conditions of Interest^ or of
Emotional Development; II. The Principles of Growth; 1 1 J.,
The Resulting Forms.

I, Conditions of Interest. — The most general law of
interest is that feeling accompanies exercise or activity. Feeling
is excitation, and implies, accordingly, stimulation and response
to stimulus in some activity. If the activity is free and unim-
peded, if it results in increasing activity, the feeling is pleas
urable. If the activity is hindered, either from internal de-
fects, or from external obstacles, if it decreases the amount of
energy that may be put forth, the feeling is painful. Since
feeling accompanies activity, its traits are dependent upon the
nature of the activity, and this dependence will now be
discussed.

I. Spontaneity. — As just said, pleasure is the result of free
activity. It is an ultimate law of mind, both in its higher
aspects and in its connection with the body through the senses
and the impulses, that it strives to express itself. It has an
internal tendency towards action, and this is stimulated by every
impression made upon it. Whatever calls forth this activity, or
whatever increases it, interests by that very fact Interest is

PORMS OP EMOTIONAL DEVELOPMENT.

Ill

the accompaniment of the spontaneous sdf activity of the child.
This principle transcends almost all others in educational im-
portance. The child's mind must be aroused from within and
his own activity called upon, if he is to be interested in any
subject.

2. Strength of Activity. — All materials of study, regarded
from the standpoint of the pupil, are a stimulus, a challenge to
his own powers. The stimulus must, therefore, be properly
adjusted to these powers. Too weak stimuli — that is, too easy
material-^o not call out enough activity to be interesting;
too strong stimuli, the mind cannot respond to. Very slight
stimuli often irritate the mind ; each seems to call for activity,
and yet it does not call loud enough to get an answer. Slight,
repeated excitations have the effect of distracting mental activity,
while intense ones fatigue and finally exhaust it. Strength of
stimulus is thus a relative term, depending upon the mind's
power of response. The stimulus which calls forth p5 much of
the mind's activity as is possible without straining it, is of
proper strength and awakens the most interest.

3. Change of Activity. — A stimulus which the mind has
wholly responded to, ceases to be a stimulus, and calling forth no
more activity, it awakens no more interest. Hence the need
of change, of alternation in studies and in modes of present-
ing them. That a subject is monotonous means that the
mind has already exercised itself in that direction as far as
is possible. When a teacher detects signs of monotony,
it is time for him to vary something. He must appeal to
the mind from a new side, and, awakening new activity, call
out new interest. Constant activity in one direction, also, if
the mind does not succeed in answering the challenge of the
stimulus, produces mental fatigue, and thus lowering disposable
energy, lowers interest. It is a well-known fact that if the eye
gazes upon the color red for a time and then turns to green,

lit

FORMS OP EMOTIONAL DEVELOPMENT.

i;:l I

the green seems brighter than it otherwise would seem. The
nerves being fjitigued in one direction, give stronger impres-
sions in another. This law prevails in education, and the
teacher should avail himself of it by providing for due al-
ternation of activities ; first an activity of the senses, then one
of memory, then of bodily impulses, like gymnastics, etc.,
then an appeal to imagination, etc

4. Harmony of Activities. — Activity is more permanent and
wider in the degree in which it is harmonious. Harmony is
defined as a unity made up of a variety. Variety which has
no unity interrupts and distracts the mind ; unity which ha>
no variety within it is, as just seen, monotonous and dead.
But the co-operation of various factors, having some common
end and meaning, calls forth one activity, and yet an activity
which manifests itself in a great many directions. Each ac-
tivity supports and stimulates every other. Hence there,
arises a permanent and ever-growing interest. There is no
more practical problem in the school-room than how to at-
tain the due' adjustment of unity in variety. The subjects
must be brought into relation with one another, and the various
facts and principles of the same subject must be united, but
yet the mind must not be kept dwelling too long upon bare
unity. The Ivist method, in general, of solving the problem
and thus keeping interest awake and increasing, is to start from
some centre and then develop facts, principles, subjects from
that. The common centre ensures unity of activity ; the various
branches developed from it ensure variety and growth.

II. Principles of Emotional Growth.— The de-
velopment of the interests from their original form into com-
plex products, is analogous lo the intellectual development al-
ready traced. It ^ ^^'i.s with immediate sensuous states, and
advances by idealizing them into more universal, and at the
same time more distinct forms. What has been said on the

FORMS OF EMOTIONAL DEVELOPMENT.

principles of intellectual thus hold good very largely of emo-
tional development. Instead of repeating these principles, we
need only call attention to some of their aspects,

I. The Widening of Feeling. — Feeling is originally limited in
scope and significance. The early feelings spring from the
senses and do not extend their value beyond the time in which
they are experienced, or beyond the individual who has them.
A feeling of taste, or of smell, or of hunger, is personal in the
narrowest and most exclusive sense of the term. But gradually
emotions take a wider bearing and value.

{a) Transfei-cnce. — This widening of feeling occurs first,
through what may be called the transference of feeling.
Feeling which intrinsically belongs to some one presentation
passes over into whatever is associated with it. The pleasure
which a child gets from his food is extended to the utensils
used, formerly indifferent, and to the person who gives the
food. The interest which a child has in gaining the appro-
bation of a parent or a teacher, is widened into interest in the
study or occupation which was at first simply a means of gain-
ing approbation. The pleasure which a child takes in mere
activity, physical and mental, becomes transferred to the ob-
jects upon which the activity is exercised.

(^) Widening through Unconscious Sympathy. — The widening
appears oftentimes to be purely instinctive and reflex; a child
becomes interested in matters simply because those about him
are interested in them. The child unconsciously puts himself
in the place of others, and thereby widens his interest to the
horizon of others. A child's games generally follow the busi-
ness of his parents. Almost all children play " keep house "
and '* school." These plays simjily witness to the fact that the
child's feelings are being colored by his contact with others, and
diat he is desirous of making their wider life his.
H

FORMS OF EMOTIONAL DEVELOPMENT.

I :i

F !l

{c) Widenins^ through Conscious Sympathy or Love. — The
most important method (at least from the teacher's standpoint)
of widening emotional life, is arousing personal sympathy and
love. This is an outgrowth of the second principle. If a child
really cares for his parent or his teacher, he is perforce inter-
ested in what he sees them to be interested in. This is not the
result of desire to gain praise, but the result of an identification
of feeling with them, so that whatever affects them aftects him.
The moulding and transforming influence some teachers pos-
sess, is due more largely to their power to make their pupils
share their interests, than to anything else. And this power to
communicate interest arises in the admiration and regard of the
pupil for the teacher's personality. It is a vital and personal
force.

2. Deepening o/I*ee/ing.^—lnteTests at first are not only limit-
ed, but they are transitory and unstable. Their development
consists in making them fixed, instead of fickle ; deep, instead
of superficial.

(a) Repetition. — This deepening results very largely from
repetition, coming under the general law that exercise
strengthens function, while disuse weakens it. A feeling con-
stantly restrained from expression is starved ; one always
allowed to give itself outward form, is deepened. A feeling
may be developed, first, by constantly presenting material
that will evoke it, and, secondly, by allowing it to act upon
this material whenever present. Thus, the sentiment for
beauty is deepened when beautiful objects are always at hand
to stimulate it, and when the sentiment is allowed and en-
couraged to re-act upon the stimulus. On the other hand, the
disposition to anger dies out when persons and objects that
would excite it, are kept away from the child, or when, although
they are present, the child is not allowed to manifest anger.

ip) Co-operation. — Besides repetition, the teacher may rely
upon co-operation of feelings. Feelings of similar kind

FORMS OF EMOTIONAL DEVELOPMENT.

strengthen one another; for example, to train one moral feeling,
like truthfulness, will generally be found to deepen others, likj
reverence and purity. On the other hand, it is generally diffi-
cult to uproot any feeling by acting upon it alone. Another and
antagonistic feeling must be called into play, which by superior
strength shall drive away the feeling it is desired to displace.
The habit of anger is more easily corrected by getting the
child under the influence of motives of love, than by negative
injunctions not to give way to anger.

The result of the deepening of feeling is the formation o^ dispositions, moods
and emotional tendencies. There is such a thing as emotional character,
manifesting itself in fixed capacities and active tendencies, as well as intel-
lectual or volitional character. The principle of retention covers the life
of feeling,'.

III. The Forms, or Stages, of Peeling.— These may

be classified as IntelleUual, Aesthetic, and Personal, according
to tlie order of increasing significance (or representative charac-
acter) and of increasing universality and definiteness.

I. Intellectual Feelings. — These are such as lead to the ac-
quiring of knowledge, or as result from its positive acquisition.
The intrinsic feelings that induce a child to intellectual activity
are wonder and curiosity. A distinction may be made between
these two terms : Wonder is the fee) ig the mind always has
(or should have) in presence of the unknown. It is the feel-
ing, that a universe of objects is before the mind calling upon
it for action. It is the feeling that intelligence is challenged
into activity to discover what is presented. It is thus a per-
manent feelmg or back ground of emotion. It is an active
feeling ; that is, it serves as a stimulus to the intellectual pro-
cesses to put themselves forth and master what evokes wonder.
It has been termed the " mother of science and philosophy."

It has been said that while the customary and the familiar cease to excite
wonder in the ordinary mind, it is a mark of genius that it wonders at
the familiar as well as at the novel. It should be one result of education
to keep alive the feeling that there is, in every experience, something woa*
derfiil, something which demands attention and inquiry.

IMIi-

! Ml

ii6

FORMS OF EMOTIONAL DEVELOPMENT.

Curiosity. — This is not a feeling that can be awakened by
every experience, but only by an occurrence which goes against
what was expected. When the mind takes it for granted that
something is thus and so, and then finds it to be otherwise,
there is the feeling of surprise. This awakens curiosity to find
an explanation for the puzzling fact. Curiosity has both a good
and a bad sense. In the good sense, it is desire of investigation,
to discover what the fact is. In the bad sense, it is desire of in-
vestigation in order to satisfy some personal or selfish interest.
In its good sense, curiosity is one of the most potent allies of
the teacher. The teacher should endeavor so to educate it
that it may pass into openness and disinterestedness of mind.
Some minds seem shut to all new ideas and hard ani rigid in
structure, otliers are flexil)le and open to new ideas, and hence
never cease mental growth. j*

Feelings of Acquisition. — As the two relations implied in
knowledge are identity and difference, there are two corres-
ponding emotions which arise. Every idiuiification of ideas
apparently diverse, is accompanied by a peculiar thrill of satis-
Hiction : a feeling of harmony and of exj)ansion. Every dis-
tinction is accomj)anied by a feeling of clearness and light in
place of confusion and darkness. These feelings together give
a sense of self-command, of power and of intellectual freedom.
It has been said that the great advantage of education is not so
much the information it gives, as the sense it affords that we
are not deceived. True education, in other words, gives a sense
of control over ideas and objects, instead of a sense of being at
their mercy. The educated mind feels that it has the power
to deal with facts, to discover the relations of identity and dif-
ference among them; in other words, to distinguish the reality
from the appearance, and so avoid being deceived. The
sense of power which the acquisition of knowledge awakens is
one of the most potent allies of the teacher. It shows itseU

FORMS OP EMOTIONAL DEVELOPMENT.

in the earliest stages. The child who has learned to put
together easy words, to make simple numerical combinations
has gained a sense of capacity which rewards him for past
effort and stimulates him to new activity. Studies which are
too difficult or which are meaningless do not permit the pupil
to master them, and thus deprive the teacher of this ally.

II. Aesthetic Feelings. — These may be defined as emo-
tions arisif!g/rorfi the apperception of an ideal e/enie/it embodied in
some form of reality. In the beautiful object there seems to be a
balance, an equivalence of the real and the ideal. There is
presentation, some sensible ol)ject, and there is representation,
for embodied in the presentation is an ideal value or signifii.
cance. It differs from an object of scientific knowledge because
in the latter the presentation serves only as a symbol to suggest
the idea ; while in the beautiful object, the idea is so embodied
in the presentation that no distinction can be made between
them. It requires activity of the reasoning power to get at the
ideal factor in science ; while the conscious activity of thinking
must be excluded from a recognition of beauty. The beautiful
object, in other words, is an object of perception^ not of con-
ception.

Factors of the Beautiful Object. — It is impossible to tell
beforehand just what particular qualities an object which
awakens aesthetic feeling will possess, for the very reason that
this object is an embodiment of imagination in perceptual form,
and not of reasoning in a symbol. But in general every beau-
tiful object has adaptation, economy, harmony and freedom.

I. Adaptation. — By adaptation is meant such inter-relation of
parts as expresses some one meaning, or serves some one end.
There may be either external or internal adaptation. In ex-
ternal adaptation, the arrangement of parts is such as to render
the object useful for something beyond itself. It serves an
outside purpose ; thus a tool, a piece of machinery, is sub-

ii8

rORMS OP BMOTIONAL DEVELOPMENT.

servient to something beyond itself. So, too, a poem which is
meant to convey some moral lesson, is adapted to this ex-
traneous end. In internal adaptation no outside purpose is
subserved. In every living being, there is complete adaptation
of parts to one another and to the whole. But this adaptation
is for the sake of the living being itself; it is identical with its
own structure ; it serves its own purpose, and not anything
outside. So far as adaptation is external, the object is useful
but not beautiful ; when it is internal, however useful it may
be, the object is beautiful.

2. Economy. — There is another method of stating the same
principle. Where some one end is reached by the co-operation
of members and the members co-operate to bring about the
richest end with the least waste and in the simplest way, there
is beauty. Economy is not to be mistaken for poverty, or
sparseness. It implies rather fullness, and abundance, but it
implies that this fullness means something; in all its details, that
there is nothing superfluous. Grace, whether of existence or
of action, always means that the result is reached with the
slightest expenditure of means, with no perceptible effort;
while clumsiness, awkwardness, always shows that the result is
not easily and economicall> reached.

3. Harmony.— T\ii% signifies many members constituting a
unity. A regular form, a picturesque landscape, a pleasing
poem or statue or painting, always possesses proportion,
harmonious adjustment of parts. In a beautiful object there is
sub-ordination and coordination ; there is a central figure about
which others are grouped ; there is a leading motive to which
others are tributary ; there is perspective, etc.

4. Freedom. — The very fact that the adjustment or harmony
serves no external end, implies that it is free or unconstrained.
Life is more beautiful than what is inanimate ; indeed, when we
fiod nature or some of its forms beautiful, it is because we

FORMS OF EMOTIONAL DEVELOPMENT.

119

attribute to them a life of their own. There are law and order
in the beautiful object ; even the most irregular and apparently
capricious piece of music is based upon mathematical and
physical laws ; but the law is internal ; the beautiful object
appears as living law, not as a lifeless object obeying some law
outside itself. On account of this freedom, aesthetic activity
partakes of the nature of play \ it is activity which has its end
in its own manifestation.

Factors of Aesthetic Feeling.— If we turn from the beautiful ob-
ject to the feeling which it awakens, we find that aesthetic feeling has a
certain uni'^asality and idcalUy. From these characteristics it follows that

(1) The lower senses do not have any important place in art, — Tasting and
smelling mriy produce agreeable sensations, but not emotions of beauty.
Such presentations have no universal value ; they are of worth only to the
organism that has them, and only while it has them. They are sen-
suous and particular,

(2) Aesthetic feeling must exclude the feeling of ownership, — The beautiful
object can be owned, but not its beauty. Every feeling that enters into aes-
thetic enjoyment must be capable of being shared by all who witness the
object. Aesthetic feeling is unselfish.

III. Personal Feelings. —These may be defined to be
such as arise fro?n the relations of self-conscious beings to one an^
other. They may be classified as Social, Moral and Religious,
in the order of the increasing width of relations involved.

I. Social Feelings. These come under the general heads :
regard for others and regard for self. These are not necessarily
exclusive, although, of course, they may become so. But re-
gard for self is a social feeling, as much as regard for others,
because the self has no meaning except in relation to others.
An absolutely isolated self would be no self at alL The recog-
nition of " me " and " mipe " implies a related " thee " and
" thine."

(a) Feelini^s for Self — The root of all feelings that gather
about one's own self is interest in one's own txistence. Love of

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FORMS OF EMOTIONAL DEVELOPMENT.

property, a desire for fame, regard for one's rights — or what one
may demand from others — feelings of self-respect and humility
— ^all personal emotions have a common source in the desire
to affirm or express the self. Interest may be taken in the self
as physical, or as intellectual, as moral, as in relative union with
or isolation from others, and from these various sides of self
arise the various forms of personal feelings. The love of pro-
perty, for example, arises from the desire to affirm one's being or
will in control over material nature, and thus indirectly over
others. The love of power and influence is the desire to extend
personality beyond the limits of the body, and to realize it in
the deeds and thoughts of others. In itself this desire to
affirm or express one's own being is neither moral nor immoral.
It may become the source of the highest and purest achieve-
ments of humanity, or of its most vicious and degraded acts,
according to the direction which is given to it

(d) Feelings for Others. — These, as they are friendly or hos-
tile, are sympathetic or antipathetic. In both, there is an identi-
fication, conscious or unconscious, of the state of mind of others
with our own ; in one case, we find this state repulsive, while
in the other, if not agreeable, ytK z. possible state of our own.

Origin of Sympathy. — Sympathy has its origin in the
contagious character of feeling. Laughing and crying are both
" catching." A person is depressed, if he goes mto an atmos-
phere of sorrow, even if the sorrow does not touch him personal-
ly, or even if he does not know the cause of the grief. Children
are constantly manifesting such sympathy. Babies in their
second year cry or " make believe " to cry when they see others
grieved, while quite early in the first year there is a smile, that
cannot be other than reflex, responsive to the mother's smile.
This imitative sympathy is a factor which the teacher may
largely rely upon, especially with younger pupils. It is also the
psychological fact which lies back of ^/aw-work as opposed to

FORMS OF EMOTIONAL DEVELOPMENT.

121

individual treatment. The terrher knows that every school
and even every class has its own peculiar atmosphere and
coloring j and this results from the contagion of emotion.
Many a child that has refused to study or learn when trained
alone at home has " taken a start " as soon as he went to
school through the influnce of his fellow pupils upon him.
This feeling possessed hy groups of persons may be disciplined,
and then it becomes ^j-^^V^"? corps— diS important a help to the
teacher as to the officer.

Development of Sympathy.— Higher than re/lex sym-
pathy, however, is active sympathy, which in addition to
reproducing states of another, recognizes that they belong to
another. We must first, indeed, make the feeling our own,
but must then make it another's. To have true sympathy with
a man suffering from poverty, for example, we must feel in
ourselves somewhat as he feels, but we must also realize that
he actually has those feelings, those sufferings, and the latter
factor is practica'ly much more impartant than the former.
Many philanthropists appear very callous to the feelings of
others, while persons who are most sensitive in reproducing
feelings of others, are sometimes least ready in removing the
causes of their sufferings. The fact that we have taken our
illustrations from sympathy with sorrows should not mislead
the student ; sympathy is with joy as well as with grief, it is
with every feeling of another.

2. Mc.i a/ Fcelim^s. — A complete account of these emotions be-
longs to ethics rather than to psychology, but a statement of their
origin and contents is in place here. They are, psychologically,
an oiiigrowth of social feelings, particularly of sympathy. T^hey
contain, as factors, feelings of rightness, of obligation, and of
approval or disap]ir()val. Reversing the natural order, we shall
take up first the contents and then the origin of moral feelings.

Contents of Moral Feeling. — The feeling of rightmss is the

( ,.»

taa

FORMS OF EMOTIONAL DEVELOPMENT.

|i! V (

1^'

feeling that a certain act, say truth-telling, is in harmony with
the ideal of personality, while its opposite contradicts, and in so
far, destroys the true personality. It is a personal feeling, there-
fore, because it deals with the relations of states of mind and of
acts to pers(jnality. An act felt to be right is also felt to be
obligatory. Thus the feeling that one ought to be what
ideally one may be. Something is due to the ideal personality ;
one is bound to do everything possible to make it real, and
hence all acts contributmg to its realization are felt as duties^
something due or owed. A right act or character calls forth
approbation \ a wrong one, disapprobation, or, if the act is
our own, remorse. Approbation is the pleasure which spon>
taneously arises upon feeling the harmony of real and ideal
character, just as aesthetic pleasure spontaneously arises upon
perceiving the harmony of real and ideal in an object*

Origin of Moral Peeling. — As already said, it grows out
of social feeling, Sympathy in its higliest form, is interest in
ever>'thing which concerns the interests of personality ; it is unity
of interest, the realization that a group of persons has a common
relation to a common good, and that this good is, therefore, to
be shared by all. It thus becomes love^ which not only feels
the experience of others, but is actively interested in making
those loved sharers in whatever is good. In this way, begin-
ning with a sympathy which is purely natural, even having
a physical basis, arises an ethical sympathy. Love becomes
the source of moral groups or communities. The family, for
example, while made up of distinct persons, parents and chil-
dren, has a common good, and hence a common interest and
purpose. A moral community is one in which there is felt to
be some common end, or good, and where there is felt the
need of realizing it in every member of the community.

Ethical Basis of the School.— 7%<f school is, both histori-
cally and philosophically, the expansion^ the continuation of the

rORMS OF EMOTIONAL DEVELOPMENT. I . J

family. It is the connecting link between the family and a higher
ethical community, the general social order. Thus the school
is, both historically and ^\i\\o%Q'^\\\Q:a^^ , the preparation for the
community and the state. •*

These propositions give the ethical basis and function of
the school, as a distinct organization having education in its
charge. The school is a definite social and moral organization j
it aims, like the family, at the highest development or good of
each of its members ; like the family, it attempts to reach this
end by definite training, authority and order imposed from
without. It prepares each of its members for membership in a
larger community, where each takes charge of his own develop-
ment or training, and where he comes in contact with external
authority only as a restraining, not as an educative or developing
power. The school, therefore, while, resling on the authority oj
the family, must train with reference to free citizenship in the state.
This is the principle which underlies, ethically, the disciplinary
organization of the school

Training of Moral Peeling. — A few specific principles
may be mentioned, (i) It is generally useless to give abstract
and didactic moral teaching. It should be connected either with
something the pupil has actually done, or with social relations
which he will have to meet in later life, and with which he is
already somewhat familiar. It is not enough to exhort to do
right; it should rather be shown, by examples coming within
the range of the pupil's exjjerience, ivhat it is that is right.
Failure of the pupil to do, what he should do, may be made the
occasion of awakening his own sense of disapprobation and of
obligation. His interest in business, in politics, may be appeal-
ed to, and thus he may be interested m the rights and duties
that spring out of such relations. In other words, moral
instruction should be concrete not abstract. (2) However it
may be in the state, the object of punishment in the school is

124

FORMS OP EMOTIONAL DEVELOPMENT.

the development, the awakening and the strengthening of the
pupil's own moral nature. Its ultimate aim is M^ developmetii
of the sense of obligation ^ and capacity, through the formation of
corresponding ri^ht habits^ for sef-control and self-government.
The thorough recognition and application of this principle would
do more for our schools than any one can easily imagine. (3)
The vital motives as interest, sympathy and love, are much more
effective in securing right conduct than fear, regard for authority,
or even reverence for abstract law. It has been well said that the
worst of men probably know as much of what is right as the
best of men can do. The practical problem is, therefore, the
cultivation of feelings and dispositions which may be relied
upon to impel the pupil to right action.

3. Religious Feeling. — As previously suggested, this is con-
nected with the imagination. The feeling of a synthesis or
connection of all natural objects with one another, and of
the inmost nature of things with ourselves, is a factor con-
tained, however, dimly and unconsciously, in religious senti-
ment. And this factor is supplied originally, at least, by the
imagination. Fused with this, controlling and giving it meaning
and content, should be factors supplied by moral motives.
As the result of this fusion there come feelings of depend-
ence, of peace, and of trust or faith. The feeling of depe?id-
ence has as its intellectual element, the feeling that we are
only a part of a whole, much wider, more powerful than our-
selves. As its moral element, it contains the feeling that the
source of all good, in ourselves and in the world, is a Being
upon whom we are dependent for power to think and attain
the good. The feeling of peace, as the factor supplied by
imagination, has the idea of unity already referred to, the feel-
ing that the heart of things is one with our nature. The
moral factor adds the feeling that this peace can be attained
only through unity with the Being who is perfect Goodness

POKMS OF VOLITIONAL DEVELOPMENT.

So o{ faith. Through the intellectual feeling of our oneness

with the world, we feel that we can trust it, that we are borne

along by it. The moral element is that the Being who is perfect

Goodness is the only ultimate Reality and is the Ideal towards

which we should strive. This Ideal cannot be seen or felt, or

made known to the senses, but is to be apprehended by faith.

No specific methods of cultivating religious emotions can be laid down
here. As a general principle the teacher should keep in mind that a vague
form of the religious feeling of unity, is supjilied by the imagination,
although in very varying degrees of siiengih and intensity in different
individuals. But to a certain degree this feeling of unity, and desire for it,
exist in every child, and so far the teacher can assume it as a basis. His
work is then to give this feeling a moral and personal turn and filling.

Note.- -For the development of feeling in general see Dewey's Psychology,
pp. 262-295; for intellectual feeling, pp. 296-308 for aesthetic, pp. 309-325 ;
for personal, pp. 326-346.

CHAPrER VI.

FORMS OF VOLITIONAL DEVELOPMENT.

As already stated, in the second chapter, the beginning of
will is impulse. Impulse becomes volition proper by the pro-
cesses of attention and association working upon it. There are
no new activities, no new functions, no new laws to be met with
in the subject of will. Analysis and synthesis play as great
part here as they do in the intellect ; development is iiere, as
there, from the immediate, the particular and the indefinite
to the ideal, the general and the definite. From the fact, how
ever, that the development concerns a different material, the
impulses, and not the sensations or the interests, certain new
phases present themselves.

Contrast of Impulsive and Volitional Action.—

The characteristics of an act of will may be seen by comparing
it with an impulsive act. Action originating in impulse \a

126

FORMS OF VOLITIONAL DEVELOPMENT.

blitid ; that is it does not see its way clear to any end. It
occurs from a tendency to act, but it docs not knew whither
this tendency leads, towards what it is aiming. A bird builds
its nest from iin|)ulse, without knowing the purpose to be
reached ; a child when hurt strikes wildly about him without
having any end in view. When we say that such and such a
person acts from the impulse of the moment, we mean that that
person is inclined to act out any impulse tliat occurs to him
ivithout looking beyond the moment in which the impulse takes
him. Its end is not taken into consideration. Impulsive
action is thus opposed to intelligent action, the latter being that
which has an end in view.

Uncontrolled. — Another distinction is that impulsive ac-
t ion is uncontrolled. When we say that a person is a creature of
impulse, we mean that his conduct is apparently unregulated;
that it does not evince settled law or order. Action is uncon-
trolled when the impulse is not measured by some standard and
its value fixed by the comparison. For example, there is an
impulse towards speech but unless this impulse is controlled
by a standard, the speech will be mere meaningless babble. In
strictly impulsive action, each impulse has its oivn value, and
this intrinsic value is sufficient motive for action. Every im-
pulse is followed, none is suj)pressed, none is checked, none is
guided towards any end. Every impulse expresses itself, and
only itself. But if the impulses are directed towards an end all
this is changed. The impulse now is not valuable in itself, but
only so far as it helps to reach the end. If it does not make
towards the end it is suppressed ; if it does lead towards the
end, it is connected with others with which it may co-operate ; it
is thus nowhere allowed to express itself but only the end, to
whose law it is subjected. In other words, it is controlled.

The Conception of End. — It is evident, therefore, that
what makes the difference between impulsive and volitional
action is the conception oi an end. Impulse is blind, because it

i»i^| juioi .i^ifti^?^

*W . ■ J i«» > <lii i *'* * '"*ii l|I M

FORMS OF VOLITIONAL DEVELOPMENT.

197

has no purpose, no end in view ; it is uncontrolled for the
same reason. Volitional action has an end in view, and this
end controls and subordinates all the steps of the activity.
Volition is impulses controlled and harmonized by the conception
of an end. In studying will, we have to study the dei'elopment
of the idea of an end, and tlu ways in which the idea becomes
actual.

Illustration. — Take as an example of volitional action, the
building of a house. This is the end of action. In the first
place, there must be an idea of this end, the builder or the
architect must have a plan. The clearer and the more definite,
the more detailed the plan, the more orderly and efficient will
be the work. But at this stage, the end is only an idea. The
idea must be changed into an actuality ; it must be realized.
The execution of a purpose, is as necessary, therefore, to com-
plete volition as the formation of the purpose. We shall (i)
take up the way in which the purpose, or the idea of an end is
formed, and (2) \S\^ process of its realization.

I. Beginning of Idea of End. — While an impulsive action
does not aim at an end, it none the less reaches an end. A
child grasps after a bright-colored ball, not because he has any
purpose, but because an impulse has been aroused by the ex-
citation of the retina of his eye ; but if he grasps the ball an idea
of the ball, of its feeling, and especially of what can be done
with it^ is formed. The child sees that he can throw it, can
bound it, etc. The next time he sees the ball, the idea of the
action that he can perform is (by the law of association),
part of his idea of the ball. The sight of the ball thus sug-
gests or redintegrates the action, and this is accordingly
performed.

Illustrations Continued.— No one can watch a baby of the age of
from one to two years and not be convinced that, to the child's mind, the
qualities of an object are mostly made up of what he can do witli the ob-
ject. A hat is something to be put upon the head ; a whip something to

128

FORMS OK VOLITIONAL DEVELOPMENT.

Strike with ; a drawer is somi^thing to be drawn out and pushed back, etc.,
etc. His own actions about or with the object constitute his ideas of the
object ; his knowledge exists in terms of his actions with reference lo the
thing. The idea of an object accor(lin;^ly always suggests — rather is — to
him that which he can do, and so the idea of an object passes naturally, or
even inevitably, into action.

Completion of Idea of End. — Here we have the transition to
true volitional action. The action is no longer the mere ex
pression of an impulse, but occurs as the accompaniment of an
idea. The idea which an object awakens is the connecting
link between the impulse and the action. It is not yet true
volition, however, because the action does not occur for the sake
of realizing the idea of an end. But when the child learns that
there are a great many things which he can do with an object,
and that some of these conflict with one anotlier, when he
learns (mainly through language) that the object has qualities
independent of his actions, he comes to distinguish between the
object and what he can do with it. Thus the idea of what he
can do becomes a distinct idea to him, and so an end in itself.
He learns that a whip is not something to strike with always
and under all circumstances ; and he learns also that the act of
striking is not necessarily connected with a whip. This act,
therefore, becomes a distinct idea in his mind, and hence a dis-
tinct end ; while previous to this time it was only one quality
always suggested by the object.

Summary. — At first, as Professor James very truly says,
we do not know what we are going to do until after we have
done it ; the true nature of the impulse is not revealed until it
has executed itself But the act once done the idea of the act
is ever afterwards associated with the impulse, and hence there
is an end supplied to that impulse for the future. Thus the im-
pulses gradually and normally, if they are properly trained, pass
into volitional action. It is to this point that we now come.

TRAINING or IMPULSES

ii9

Training of Impulses.

1. The development of the impulses depends upon the dev*loj>
ment of the intellect. — I here can be no volitional activity unti'
there is an idea of an end. The child cannot (to until he Jknoivt
To quote Professor James again, we might as well ask a mar
to give the Choctaw equivalent of some Knglisli word, as to asi»
him to perform some action, corresponding to which he has no
equivalent in the way of a mental notion. If, for example, a
child is to pronounce the word * cat,' or is to write the word, ht
must frst have a mental image and l/ien express it.

2. Every develo foment of the ifnpuhes results in a training 0/
the intellect — While the foregoing principle is true, it is also
true that the operation of an impulse, the reaching of an end is"
necessary to the idea of the end. The child will not have &
distinct knowledge of the sound of <!, for example,until he ha&
made it. At first he; imitates the position of the vocal organai
of his teacher, and by his own activities makes sounds resem-
bling that of the teacher. Finally he hits the correct sound :
he has the thrill of identification, and now for the first time he.
truly recognizes or knows the sound in the future, as well as
know how to make it. And this but illustrates the general law.
First, the manifestation of an impulse reaches an end and
leaves behind the idea of the end ; then this idea is utilized
as guiding and controlling the impulse. The impulse now
manifests itself, under the control of an idea, in a more
definite and complete way, and the idea is further enriched.
This, in turn, supplies a still more definite end to impulse,
and so on indefinitely. Thus the development of intellect and
<)f impulse is reciprocal.

3. Knowing and Doing must, therefore, be trained by the satm

processes, and correlatively t0 ecuh other. — We are now able to

state the psychological principle which reconciles the two pro

cepts already given (pp. 45 and 46), ** Lean? lo dc bj* oouog,"

I JO

FORMS or VOLITIONAL DEVELOPMENT.

I >

^«d " Learn to do by knowing." The principles when rightl)
mterpreted inchide rather than exclude each other. Unless
we do, w€ cannot understand the ideas involved in action^ much
lei8 act And unless we know, we cannot act in a signifi-
cant way, in a way which is really expressive of ideas. Apply
this to the teaching of arithmetic. A child will never under-
stand an abstract rule or principle until he has acted accord-
ing to it : until he has embodied it in arithmetical operations ;
he will never fully understand it until he has repeatedly acted
upon it, so that he is thoroughly master of it. But, on the
other hand, his actions will be blind and meaningless, ex-
cepting he comes to see them as the manifestation of a
principle. He is, in other words, to " do sums," not for the
sake of forming a blind habit of " doing sums," but in order to
understand the rational ideas involved in the operations ; and
he is to learn the rule and the principles, not for the sake
of the abstract ideas themselves, but for the sake of power to
act upon them, for the sake of Mastery. There is a similar
relation between speech, and the laws of language found in
grammar. These laws cannot be understood apart from the
action of which, in^' ?ed they are only the abstract statement.
The child must " do," must speak and write in order to know
the laws. But on the other hand, unless the child is brought
consciously to realize the laws involved in language, he not
only has nothing by which to test speech, but has no idea of
its rational basis. Language to him will be a mere meaningless
tool.

4. Such a reciprocal traning 0/ the Impulses and the Intellect
renders education Practical. — There is no need of saying that
practical does not merely mean commercial, or capable of
being applied to money-making. Nor does it mijan that
everything learned must be capable of direct application to
action. It is only in early childhood, while action is still
'largely impulsive, that all ideas are converted, upon the spot,

TRAINING or IMPULSES.

13 »

into action. But no education is practical which does not, in
training the intellect, train the will ; which does not, in giving
knowledge, give ability to act. No graver accusation can be
brought against any course of education than that it is not
practical, in the true sense of the term practical. A course of
school-training which does not fit one tor his true life of action,
is defective, regarded even as training of the intellect, for
knowledge is not truly knowledge as long as it remains imper-
sonal, remote from the activities of its possessor, and it is
yet more defective on the moral side, for he who is net
trained to rational activity has no preparation for a moral
life. We have now seen what is the goal of the training of the
impulses — such a development of them as subordinates them to
ideas, while ideas are, at the same time, employed to control
impulses. We may now briefly discuss the means at the com-
mand of the teacher for reaching the desired goal.

5. Educational training should be based upon natural impulses
and interests. — The teacher does not have to create impulses,
but to utilize those already existing. School life is a develop-
ment of the insti'ictive activities, not a creation of new and ar-
tificial ones. This is a common-place, and yet it may be
doubted whether any pedagogical precept is more frequently
violated, or with more harmful results. The artificial atmos-
phere of some schools, the dislike of pupils for their studies
(and perhaps tor their teachers), the stupidity of some children,
and the feverish mental activity of others, are too often due to
the fact that an unreal goal has been set up ; study has become
something apart from the normal impulses of the pupils, and con-
sequently factitious and unhealthy methods must be resorted to.

Pleasure in Training. — Since education is only a training of natural

impulses, it folUw*, almost axiomatically, that, if the great mass of pupils du

. not delight in their training as they do in the expression of their natural

impu'ses, there is something defective in the educational methods. I'liere

are, of course, individual exceptions : some children through hereditary,

3«

FORMS OF VOLITIONAL DEVELOPMENT.

lotne and other influences beyond the teacher's control, do not seem to
aave any tendencies worth mentioning towards knowledge and mental
activity ; while others are morally so defective that any subjection of im-
pulses to law and order is irksome and repulsive. But the statement re>
garding the "great mass" remains true.

6. These natural impulses are to be subjected to discipline. —
This again is a normal process, as natural as the expression of
the impulses. Every impulse tends to reach an end, and the
end once reached it tends to subordinate itself in the future to
the control of that end. The teacher simply utilizes this nor-
mal psychological principle. He employs it in a systematic way
by overseeing the end towards which the impulses work, and
by taking care that they work rei^u/arly toward these ends.
The spontaneous self-discipline offered by the tendency of im-
pulses to subject themselves to the law of their end, is defec-
tive, first, because there is nothing to ensure that the impulse
reaches its Jw^hest and fullest end, and secondly, because there is
nothing to ensure that it reaches the end so regularly that the
tendency to work towards the end shall become a law. Sur-
rounding influences preclude the impulse manifesting itself to
its highest capacities, and they preclude anything more than a
fitful and intermittent activity of it. The teacher supplies

ends which call out the fullest manifestation of
the impulses, and he supplies regular and constant
means for working towards these ends. This may

almost be said to exhaust the work of the teacher.

7. A portion of this discipline consists in external arrange-
ments. — A child left to spontaneous self-discipline, is left to the
ndiiwvdX force of the impulses and to chance for their expression,
A child in school is surrounded with a multiplicity of special
influences reinforcing the natural strength of the impulses and
almost ensuring their regular expression. The child is to take
and to keep a certain place in school : he is to be present at a
certain hour : to be doing fixed things ai fixed times, etC| etc

TRAINING OF IMPULSES.

>33

■I

Order is either of space or of time. Punctuality as to time-re-
lations, and rei^ulatity as to place-relations are demanded of
the pupil. All that comes under the head of the organization and
administration of the school has for its purpose the ensuring of
regularity and certainty in the manifestation of the impulses.
This organization, with all it includes, is a good servant, but a bad
master. Its true significance is to be tributary to the discipline
of the pupil — it is a mechanism for a certain end, and the mean-
ing of mechanical, real as well as etymological, is instrumental.

8. A portion of the discipline is internal. — The external
means accompariy and render efficient instruction in certain
subjects. There is a regular recurrence of studies; a fixed
order m the materials studied as well as in the arrangements
that induce to study. The educator, through these studies, fur-
nishes the ends best fitted to guide the impulses into complete ac-
tivity,and he gives them orderly and regular exercise. To go into
details upon the ways in which these studies afford disciplme,
would be to repeat all that has Deen said upon the training of
association, attention and the various faculties, and to antici-
pate all that will be said in the next part upon educational
praxis.

9. Discipline accomplishes its purposes when it results in Self-
control. — The training, to which the impulses are subjected, is
to become the law of the impulses ; a law internal to them,
which they manifest, not merely something external to which
they must conform. The training is to result in a law inherent
in the impulses, and when this is done there is self-control,
that '\s, freedom. It must be repeated that the school-discipline
is not to repress the impulses, nor to substitute something else
for them, but to ensure to them their highest activity and de-
velopment, and this not fitfully but regularly. When disci-,
pline has had this result, freedom takes the place of authority.
The impulses have again, and in a true and lasting sense, be-
come a law unio themselves^ because they have embodied disci-

'34

FORMS OF VOLITIONAL DEVELOPMENT.

■ I

pline, /aw within themselves. The person acts both from im
pulse and from principle. This ideal may never be reached,
but it is none the less the teacher's function and duty to aim
at its realization.

Idea and Desire. — Aristotle says that volition, or the
power of originating action, constitutes a man, and that volition
may be termed either reason that desires or desire that reasons.
As impulse is blind action, so it is blind desire. It includes
feeling of want or lack, but it does not know ivhat is wanting ;
the want thus aims blindly at its own satisfaction. Desire is
intelligent impulse ; it is want that has become conscious of its
own nature and of the end that satisfies. Thus volition is desire
that reasons ; desire that takes account of itself. But, on the
other hand, a mere idea does not constitute volition. The idea
of an end will not move to action if the mind is satisfied with
its present condition. This idea must stir the emotions, must
influence the feelings in a word, arouse desire — before there is
any tendency for it to become more than a mere idea. Thus
volition is also reason that desires : reason that has ceased to be
abstract and impersonal, and become emotional and interested.
So far we have studied only the rational side, the idea ; we
must now take up the emotional side, the desire.

Origin of Desires. — In the impulse of a child to seek food,
to grasp bright objects, to throw them and play with them,
there is contained a tendency to satisfy some wanty whether of
food for the body or for the senses, or of physical activity. As
soon as the impulse is manifested, some end is reached which
satisfies the want to some extent. The child finds the food, he
seizes the ball, etc. The child who has played with the ball finds
that it satisfies his previous need of activity. From this time play-
ing with it is an object of desire with him. f the child sees the
ball and yet does not play with it, the idea conflicts with reality.
The idea, moreover, as compared with the reality, is pleasurable ',
in comparison with it, the present reality does not interest. I'he

TRAINING or DESIRl.

135

child would rather play mth the ball than do what he is doing.
As long as this state continues there is tension ; there is plea-
sure so far as the idea of t'le end is found satisfactory : there is
pain, so far as the present reality is opposed to the idea. TAis
conflict of an idea felt to be satisfactory^ with a reality which fails
to satisfy, constitutes desire.

The Object of Desira —It is to be noticed that what
is desired is not the thing or the activity, nor yet the
pleasure afforded by them. What is wanted is the satisfaction
of the self. The thing is desired only because through it the self
is satisfied ; pleasure is wanted only so far as it testifies to
satisfaction. Pain is an object of desire when it is considered
to satisfy self better than pleasure. The desires are developed,
therefore, just in the degree in which the self is developed.
When the self becomes complex, having many kinds of activities
and many interests, desires are correspondingly complex.
When the self becomes aware of its possession of any capa-
city — of a capacity for finding satisfaction in any direction —
a desire is awakened.

Training of Desire. —The impulses must be trained in
their relation to desire as well as in their relations to an idea.
Indeed, the complaint sometimes made that school training
leaves children bright and quick intellectually, but without cor-
responding moral training, is largely due, so far as it is well-
based, to lack of training of the desires, or of the emotional
side of the will. We notice then

(i) Desires are trained through a development of the emo-
tional nature. \ whatever interests is desired. — The development
of interests is. therefore, as important for the development of
will as of intellect. The connection of love and desire is so
close that, in popular language the terms are identified ; and
there is this warrant for the identification, that whatever one likes
one also desires to possess. Sympathy is a powerful coadjutor

^mmBBBSSBmsmmmmmm

136

FORMS OF VOLITIONAL DEVELOPMENT.

in training desire. The manifestation of desire by one tends to
awaken it in another. As soon as a child wants something, his
playmates generally " want it too," even though it was previously
indifferent. Rivalry may sometimes be appealed to in order
to awaken desire, but in most cases sMiipathy is more effective
A teacher of sir ng desires will gradually find his pupils reflect-
ing his own wishes and aversions, while the lack of permanent
and controlling desires on his part, generally shows itself in the
school.

2. Desires are trained by satisfying or failing to satisfy im-
pulse. — Impulses that are always thwarted die out to some ex-
tent. Having no ex])ression there is no experience of satisfaction
to recur in the form of desire. On the contrary, the constant
arousing and satisfying of some impulse, originally feeble, will
by the cumulation of images of satisfaction gathering about that
impulse, strengthen desire. The practical problem with a boy
called stupid often is to search out and systematically gratify
some impulse which has never been allowed to express itself.
This done, definite desire is produced, and the boy is quickened
into the exertion of his own powers to gain satisfaction in the
future; having tasted the fruits of gratification, he never falls
back into passivity. There is a moral as well as an intellectual
application of this same principle. A selfish child should be
made to feel the gratification of satisfying what generous im-
pulses he does possess ; an untruthful child, the satisfaction of
stating things as they are, etc. While moral action is not con-
stituted by action for the sake of gratification, it is often none
the less true that it is by experiencing gratification from moral
conduct that the child is led to desire moral conduct for its
own sake.

3. Desire is trained by awakenins; discontent with present at-
tainments and interest in untried activities, — There is desire
for anything only when the idea of that thing seems more satis-
factory than the actual state. To lessen satisfaction with the

TRAINING or DESIRE.

>37

actual state has, therefore, the same result in awakening desire hu
to increase the satisfaction of the ideal end. Thougli a child can-
not be made to feel the satisfaction of generous conduct, he may
perhaps be led to realize the unsatisfactory nature of selfish-
ness. Pui)ils should be trained to the thought of their /<7J'j/-
bilities not yet made actual. Once make a pupil feel that he
can do something, even if, as yet, he has not done it, and desire
to do it will be awakened. Hardly anything is more important
in the personal relation of teacher and pupil than inducing
the pupil to believe in his own capacities and possibilities. A
person to whom a new possibility is open, has a new world
before him. It may be questioned if the transforming influence
which religion often exercises, is not largely due to the effective
belief it gives In new and hitherto untried personal possibilities.
Real belief in the possibility of an achievement is the most
efficient kind of desire for it

4. Desire is trained through the adtivation of the imagination.
— Imagination both widens and strengthens desire. It widens
it, because it does not leave desire dependent upon the precise
forms of old satisfaction, but, under the influence of love, hate,
etc., creates new conceptions — desires for honor, fame or
wealth, etc. Imagination strengthens desire, for, to allow the
mind to dwell upon any image is to endear it to the mind.
When we imagine anything we think of it as real, and wish, in
some degree to make it real. If imagination habitually dwells
upon some idea, this idea is apt to become the controlling
desire of the mind. An artist imagines beautiful forms and
scenes so vividly that he is impelled to produce the realities
that correspond. By the same principle a child whose mind is
filled with impure images, is impelled to impure desires and
actions ; and, fortunately, a child whose imagination is filled
with graceful, harmonious and pure ideas is stirred to corres-
ponding desire and activity. The teacher can offer no more
practical prayer for his pupil than that of Socrates, that he

i!i

■3«

rORMS OF VOLITIONAL DEVELOPMRNT.

may have " leauty in the inward soul," for this insures al-
most of itself that the "outward and the inward man be at
one."

II. The Realization of the Desired Idea.— We

have studied the first step in volition : the formation of the
idea of an end, and of its accompanying feeling of want.
We have now to study the realization of the idea — the way
in which it is changed from an idea into a presentation, into
an actual fact. If there is but one desired end, the manner
of realization may be illustrated as follows : The child forms
the idea of handling a colored ball. This idea suggests, by
contiguous association, that of reaching out the arm and
grasping the ball ; and thus the end is reached. In other words,
the idea of the end suggests, by association, the means neces-
sary for reaching the end In more complex ends, attention is
active, rather than association, and first analyzes the end into
the means or steps which lead up to it, and then combines them
so as to reach the end. In either case, there is no factor
involved which has not been previously studied.

Conflict of Ends and of Desires.— But generally the
case is not so simple. There is not merely one idea in the mind
which immediately proceeds to suggest the means of its own
realization, but there are various ends desired, and these con-
flict with one another. The child who wishes to play with the
ball may also wish to look at his picture book, or he may have
been told not to play with it, and he desires to obey this com-
mand. One cannot have his cake and eat it too. In case of
conflict it is out of the question that the desired end work
itself directly out. Before this can occur the conflict must be
decided, and some one end emerge as the real end of action.
The various steps in the settlement of conflict may be stated as :
deliberation, effort and choiee, all together constituting control

Dilihertition. — The beginning of deliberation is checking, or,
in technical language, inhibiting the carrying out of action. The

FORMS OF VOLITIONAL DEVELOPMENT.

139

child stops or pauses before doing what he wishes to do.
During the pause, he considers and reflects in the degree in
which his mental powers are developed, He weighs the value
of the end proposed, compares it with other ends, and in
general calls upon all the reasons that would lead to action in
one direction rather than in another. The process in a child
is, of course, largely unconscious ; it is not meant that the
child consciously sets himself to weigh reasons, pro and con,
regarding an action. But the conflict between desires arrests
attention, and, the mind dwelling upon the conflict, various
considerations are suggested by association.

Effort. — In some cases the child wants to act in one way,
but feels that he oii^ht to act in another. He wishes to play
but ought to study, for example. In this case what is desired
and what is desirable do not coincide. If the child does not
recognize anything that is desirable, different from what is
desired, there is no conflict. He continues to do as he
wishes to do. Or, if the act is not only desirable but desired
(that is, if duty and evident satisfaction go together) there
is no conflict ; the child does what he ought to do. But in
many cases the child recognizes that he ought t ) desire one
action, while he actually desires another. Here effort is required
It requires effort to rtrrw/ action in the direction desired ; it re-
quires effort to prefer what should be preferred.

True effort consists in reinforcing by additional ideas, desires
and motives, the side felt to be the iveaker. It may be true that
action follows the strongest desire, but it is also true that we
have the power to call up considerations and feelings that
strengthen and that weaken the force of a desire. The idea of
obligation itself, if it has been frequently acted upon, becomes a
very considerable force, and if ideas, images and emotions are
clustered about the idea of that which ought to be done, it
gradually becomes not only desirable, but desired, and action
follows in that direction.

140

FORMATION OF CHARACTER.

Choice, — The end of conflict, following deliberation and
effort, is choice. Choice may be defined as the selection of a
certain end of action and the identification of self with it. In
choice, the self throws itself into one desire, and gives that all
the strength of the self. While desire manifests a possible
act or state of self, choice affirms that this possibility shall
be made real, and that other possibilities shall not be realized.

Character and Retention. — By character is meant the self as
possessed of definite potvers or abilUies, and of permanent predisposi-
tions or desires corresponding to these abilities. The make-up
or character of a man is shown by what he can do, plus what
he continually tends to do. Character is formed by reten-
tion. It is the organized residuum or result of all past ac-
tions. In the beginning there are inherited instincts and im-
pulses. These are acted upon ; some are encouraged ; the
end of some is consciously adopted as motive to action.
Each activity leaves behind an effect which renders it
easier to act in that way again. The accumulation of such
effects creates a tendency to act in that way. In the same way
something is retained from each desire, and this leads desire m
the same paths in the future. Character is thus organized ten-
dency and desire.

Choice and Apperception. — Choice corresponds to appercep-
tion. Indeed, it is apperception practically directed It is the
selection and assimilation of some course of action. In know-
ledge, apperceiving is bringing the mind to bear through its
organized centres of experience, upon presented sensations. In
will, it is bringing to bear the organized centres of ability and
desire upon the presented impulses. The result in both cases
is that the presentation is connected with the acquired results
of past experience. Since apperception and retention mutually
depend upon each other, it follows that the relation of character
and choice is a reciprocal one. Character is organised de-
cisions or choices. Choice is the expression of ctaiactep

FORMS or VOLITIONAL DEVELOPMENT.

141

Choice builds up character and character is manifested in
choice. Kvery choice enters into the building up of an organ
of choice and thus decides future decisions.

Control. — Finally, we may say that a desire or imf^ulse is con-
trolled when it is brought into connection with character. Every
one has certain organized groups or systems of desires and of
tendencies to action. When an impulse or desire does not
express itself merely, but expresses a relation to one of these
groups, it is in so far controlled, and it is controlled in the
highest degree when it is brought into relation with the totality
of such groups — with character. A desire may come in con
tact only with a superficial and simple group of desires and
tendencies; comparatively the conflict is brief, effort slight, and
the resulting choice unimportant. Another desire may send
roots into all the groups. Here the conflict is prolonged, for
each of these groups must be allowed due consideration ;
effort is severe, for the conflicting claims of these groups must
be reconciled, and choice is important, influencing the entire
future of the self, for it affects each of the centres that together
make the self what it is. But since there is no such thing as
character in general^ since character is only the totality of ail the
groups of fixed tendencies, ideas and desires, it must be re mem?
bered that however unimportant any one choice may be (since
affecting only one centre), yet it is by the cumulation of such
single acts that each centre is built up and character formed.

The Training of Character.— It may be said that
self-control is obtained by the proper training of desire, and by
the subordination of impulses to the law of their ends. But
after our study of the realization of an end we can add some
further points.

I. Self-control is reached ihrou'^h habitual actio7i. — Character
is built up through successive acts. From each act something
is "retained," which thus becomes influential in controlling
future activity. Character is the sum and result of ail these

143

FORMATION OF CHARACTER.

[I: I

! .

activities. It is significant that our words " ethical " and
" moral " both find their origin in words signifying customs oi
habits. Character, good or bad, is in very considerable degree
the outcome of acts which in themselves are neither good noi
bad, but only customary or habitual A child in his earliest
years has instincts and tendencies, but no character. Day by
day, as he is directed in actions which are right, and yet which
he does not do simply because they are right, he forms the fiabit
of right action, he grows in love of such actions as he con-
stantly finds satisfaction in them, he forms a tendency, which
is almost instinctive or natural, to repeat them. I'hen as his
reason develops and he sees the true nature of such acts, he is
prepared consciously to choose them because they are right.
The acts are now right, not only externally, but also internally ;
that is, they have a right motive and purpose, as well as con-
form outwardly to the demands of morality.

2. The formation of habits is largely under the control of
others: thus self-control is trained throuiih external control. —
It is in the facts just mentioned that the educator finds at once
his opportunity and suggestions as to methods. Character is
largely the result of unconscious habit : and the teacher has it
in his hands to aid in the formation of habits. While the in-
fluence of education in training character aas often been exag-
gerated, as when it is supposed that certain systems of education
will turn out a certain kind of product with the fixity and cer-
tainty of machinery, the influence is so great that it stands in
no need of exaggeration. Nature contributes its share, but nur-
ture has its part also. " The virtues," says Aristotle, " come
neither by nature nor against nature, but nature gives the
capacity for acquiring them and training develops it.**

3. Self control is trained by h>ibits of self-reliance, — While the
young and immature, almost characterless child, is highly sus-
ceptible to external discipline in forming his habits, it should
not be forgotten that the sole end of ^his external control ir

fOKMS or VOLITIONAL DEVF.IOPMENT.

143

self-control. The habit of decision can be formed only by
repeated person;il decisions. Choice, as we have seen, is
identification of self with a desire. No one but the self, there-
fore, can choose. (Jne can do much for another, l)ut he can-
not choose for him. 'i'he teacher may and should supply all
the possible conditions of ri'j[ht choice ; he must check hasty
action, he must encourage deliberation, he must suggest all
reinforcing motives, but the act of choice, belongs to the child.
If, therefore, no opportunity for decision is given, if the edu-
cator does everything for the child, as soon as this external prop
is removed the fact that no habit of choice has been formed
reveals itself in weak and in wrong action. The child of the
streets has often a better training of will than the favoured
child of culture, becau-ie the former has always to choose for
himself, while the latter is surrounded with influences that do
not allow decision.

4. Self control is trained through recognition of idea of La7V
and strengthening regird for it. — We have already seen that
impulses work towards an end, and that this end once reached
becomes the law to which they thereafter subject themselves.
This gives a multiplicity of laws ; as many laws as there are
ends. But as the child grows in intelligence he frames the
ideas of larger and more comprehensive ends, and thus of more
inclusive laws. Finally he rises to the generalization of law ;
of law in general, not merely a particular law for each particu-
lar impulse. There is set up a general permanent standard —
conformity to law — by which all imi)ulses and desires may be
measured; and if the sense of obligati )n is correspondingly
developed, it is felt that they must be referred to this law as
their standard. The conception of such a law gives self-control
even in new circumstances, for it is felt that there is some law
to be followed, and there is cultivated the habit of searching
for this law. The habit of referring desires to law which is
felt to be obligatory, constitutes conscientiousness.

144

FORMATION OF CHARACTER.

5. Self-control is trained through the conception of an ideal or
perfect self . — With the growth of the child in intelHgence and in
conscientiousness, the conception of character is enlarged. It
includes not only the actual self, the result of past decisions
and actions, but an ideal self. There is nothing mystical
about the conception of the ideal self; it simply includes over
and above actual attainments, the idea of capacities or p)0ssi-
bilitics not yet realized. Desires are measured not merely by
their reference to the actual state of character as the organized
result of past experiences, but by their reference to the deve-
lopment oi possibilities oi character in the future. Desires in
line with the develcpment of these possibilities, however
much in contrast with past attaini cnts, are stimulated and
reinforced, others are arrested. A perfect character means also
a completed character — a character with all capacities realized.
When such an ideal is made the end of activit> , desires are
controlled in the highest degree ; they are contn^Ued by relation
to past attaini) ents and by reference to futurei possible attain-
ments. Such self-control \^fr<edom.

Kinds of Oontrol. — The foregoing considerations may
be rendered more specific by a brief consideration of the
various kinds of self-control. These may conveniently, though
soemwhat arbitrarily, be classified as physical^ prudential and
moral. In the first place a child has to gain control of his body.
This includes everything by which the child is enabled to use
his body as an instrument in executing any volition, walking,
articulate speech, writing, etc., etc. Then, a child has to be
able to control his speech, his actions, and even his thoughts
and feelings with reference to his ozm welfare. And finally, he
must be able to control himself, with re^i^ard to what is demanded
of him by the obligaliom of moralitx ~ first as they are em-
bodied in the requirements of others, and afterwards as he re-
cognizes his own obligations to his own and to others' per-
sonality

FORMS or VOLITIONAL DEVELOPMENT.

>45

I. Physical Control.— This is of importance in the edu-
cation of will, both for its own sake, and for the discipline of
volition atitbrded by it. The necessity of a child's being able to
control his senses and his muscles is so evident as not to need
illustration. Hut it must also be remembered that in learning
to control them he is exercising all the factors that enter into
self-control of the highest kind. He is subordinating his im-
pulses to law ; he is forming and guiding desires ; he ia cm-
ploying self-restraint, effort and choice.

Relation of phys^ical to moral control. — It is thus obvious that
the training c^the impulses of physical activity is a very import-
ant factor in moral training, aside from all moral uses the train-
ing is put to. A child cannot learn to write, to sit still when
necessary, *o prepare and recite lessons at certain times (consid-
ered meic y as physical processes) without exercising self-con-
trol ; and so, in these actions he forms habits of self-control,
which, when subordinated to riglit motives, constitute morality-
There is therefore, a decided moral as well as intellectual side to
the training of the eye, the ear, the tongue and the hand. " Kin-
dergarten" and "manual " training are tributary to specifically
ethical culture. It is said that in a certain reformatory, part oi
the prisoners were subject to definite physical training, gymnas-
tic exercises, etc., and that they nor only gaine ' intellectually
and in personal ai)[)earance, but in general moral character.
And this is what one might expect

Process of physical ■control. — No new principles are involved
in physical :untrol. Association and attention acting upon
the impulses and instincts explain the results. In particular,
llie two functions of analysis and synthesis are employed in
gaining control of the physical self. In the first place, all im-
pulses are vague. Aside from one or two priinary instincts,
they are diffused through the entire muscular system. An in-
fant )ias y^ry early the impulse to walk, but the impulse instead

146

FORMATION OF CHAKACTER.

of being distinct and confined to the proper muscles, expends
itself through all the muscles. So, a child when learning to
write moves his whole arm, and even his body, face and
tongue. Learning to perform some physical act consists,
therefore, in the first place, in the differentiation and localization
of the impulse. And in tiie second place, it consists in the
unitingy the interconneding of these difTeren iated impulses. To
walk is to combine and coordinate a series or succession of
distiort muscular impulses. In articulate speech, a series of
motor impulses of vocal orgms, tongue, lips, etc., must be con-
nected, and then this series must be properly associated with a
series of auditory sensations, and this with a series of ideas. That
is, in order to speak, the child must control his vocal organs; to
control them he must have as a standard the images of the
sounds which he is to make ; and if these sounds are to mean
anything, they must be conne(^ted with ideas. Similar complex
combinations are involved in writing, jjlaying musical instru-
ments, reading aloud, etc.

Results of Oontrol.— I. The idea of what can be done
bi comes more extended and more definite. — Not only is the act
more definite, but the idea is more definite, for, as we have
previously noticed, it is only when an end has been reached
that we know what the <'nd is. A baby has no definite idea
either of what a word sounds like or how to speak it, until he
has succeeded in pronouncing it. And the idea becomes more
extensive jyist in i)roportion as the act combines more impulses.
An infant lives in the present becau-^e his actions do nc'. e;t-
tend their significance beyond the present. Compare v-'Xh an
infant a youth who is learning a trade. Here all actioiis have
a unity in their reference to the end aimed at, and the youth's
ideas gain a similar unity and comprehensiveness His con-
sciousness takes in a wide future range.

9. Abilities and tendenrtes are created. — We come again upon
the fact of retention. Movements become organized into the

rORMS or VOLITIONAL DEVELOPMENT.

147

Structure of the body, and through the effect that each act pro-
duces, the act is easier in the future ; since easier, it tends to
be repeated in preference to acts requiring more energy ; being
repeated, habit is formed. Isolated acts have become paivet
to act. That which has been acquired by hard labor becomes
spontaneous function, becomes p ay. These abilities become
tendencies \ that is, the person follows or acts according to
them unconsciously or automatically, and unless he exercises
effort, he falls into these habits so easily that they seem to
to control him He apparently becomes the creature of what
he has created.

3. Tlu amount of stimulus and effort required is lessened. —
This follows from the two principles already stated. When, in
writing, the impulse is diffused through the entire body, it is
clear that the most of it is wasted. When it is confined to the
fingers, there "s less draft upon the energies required. In an
infant, the original stimulus to activity is an excitement of the
'trhole organism. There are chance and random movements,
but actions directed to an end occur only when the whole
organis;r. is stirred by a demand for food. Then strong
affections of a single sense — as a bright light, or a loud
sound, rouse activity ; then a perception of moderate force suffices
the sight of a j)lay-thing induces activity ; the sound of a word,
is stimulus to repeat the sound. Then a suggestion or in-
jnnction from another suffices; the child does what he is
told to do. Then, at last, an /^^a originating in his own con-
sciousness is sufficient stimulus to action. Thus there are
gradations between affection of the whole physical organism
at one extreme, and the mere idea at the other. And, ot
course, as habits are built up, the amount of necessary effort is
lessened until, as just mentioned, it may require effort not to
act rather than to act.

II. Prudential Oontrol. — As soon as physical control is
made a means to sontething beyond itself, the stage of pruden-

148

FORMATION OF CHARACTER.

tial control is reached. When a child speaks, not for the sake
of learning to speak, but for the sake of some end beyond, the
control is not only physical but prudential. It thus begins at
a very early period in life. Prudential action involves all
action for the sake of any end felt to be satisfactory ^ excepting a
mora/ end.

Results of Prudential Control.— We have already

studiiid desire, deliberation, choice, and the intellectual pro-
cesses which enter into control. There is nothing new in-
volved in prudential control, excepting the kind of end for the
sake of which the control occurs — some recognized satisfaction.
Accordingly we turn at once to the results of prudential control
in the formation and development of character.

1. Action is more deliberate — Since the action aims at some
recog.iized satisfaction, it is n-'^cessary to weigli and compare
means and ends. The child cannot follow his impulses im-
mediately, but mast reflect upon them to see which will
reach the most useful end, and what steps he must take to
reach the end he decides upon. Tn this way character becomes
thoughtful or rcfieciiiie.

2. Action takes in more remote in:d more comprehensive ends. —
The satisfaction may be one which cannot be reached in a day
or even in a year. If such a remote satisiacdon is desired, it is
evident that all acts between the time of choice and the reali7a-
tion of the end, must be controlled with reference to the one
end. For exainple, consider a person studying a profession
or learning a trade. The end may become very inclusive it may
be health, or wealth, or political honor, or success as a teacher
(Mr author. Such ends are exceedingly complex, involving an
indefinite number of minor acts of restraint, effort and choice.
Thus character gains unity and coh *inuity,

3. Action is more determined and perseveri.ig. — V/hile only a
resolute or determined person is likely to be peraevering, the

rORMS or VOLITIONA! DBVKLOPMEKT.

terms are not synonymous. Resolution or detftrmination has
reference to the choice of ends. A determined oi lirm person
is one wlio chooses definitely and fixedly ; he knows what he
wants and is not to be induced to change his purpose. Having
settled upon his end, he is now persevering in attempting to
reach it. Persevering thus relates to use of means, as resolute
does to choice of end. A persevering person is one not turned
aside from an end because it is not immediately reached, be-
cause obstacles present themselves, because other agreeable
ends suggest themselves. Resolution and persei^erance give char'
acter permanent stability.

4. Action becotnes more- intense or energetic. — As prudential
control is obtained, action becomes forceful, manifesting in-
creased power. This does not mean excitement. It is not mea-
sured by the amount of effort apparent. A person who appears
very intense is often, like a puffing engine, not doing much.
Physical energy is defined as power to do work, and so voli-
tional energy or intensity, is measured by its result, by its
capacity for doing, not by apparent activity. A teacher
should avoid the idea that there is any value in mere ac-
tivity, in going through a set of motions or performances ;
the value is in what the activity accomplishes. Energy
renders character effective. If we sum up wliat has been
said, it follows that a thoroughly controlled will involves de-
liberation before choosing, certainty and singleness in making
the choice, tenacity in clinging to the choice once made, and
energy using all appropriate means for realising it.

III. Moral Ooatrol.—

There are no new processes involved in moral control It
differs from physical and prudential control only in the end to
which the volitional processes are subject. It aims at con-
trolling the impulses and the desires by the law ^ *" good cha"-
acter^ and not by the law of physical action o; of personal
welfare.

\ '

ISO

rORMATION OF CUARACTBR.

Relation to physical and prudential control. — It is of great im-
portance to the teacher to realize that moral control consid-
ered simply upon the side of volitional factors that enter into
it, namely, desire, effort, <:hoice, etc., is the same as physical
and prudential control, and that only the end or motive dif-
fers. This fact gives two principles for the teacher's guidance.

1. Every cut of will, whether directly moral or not, may be
rendered tributary to formation of Moral Character. — It was
shown, when speaking of the intellectual faculties, that their
training is hrgely indirect ; that memory, for example, is tramed
in training perception ; that thinking is trained by right per-
ception and memory. The same law of indirect culture holds in
moral training ; and it is fortunate for both teacher and pupil
that such is the case. Every act of attention on the part of the
pupil, every concentration in study that excludes distracting
stimuli, every physical restraint, as sitting quietly when neces-
sary, every form of physical control, as guiding the pen in
writing ; every subordination of present pleasure :o future satis-
faction, requires the same activity of will that moral conduct
requires, and results in a training of character through the forma-
tion of habits. If the teacher's methods and his own purpose
are not mechanical but moral, if an ethical spirit animates him,
this ethical spirit will lay hold of all the detaiis of school work,
and make them subservient to the development of character
in the pupil.

a. These processes, not directly moral in themselves, when
subordinated to ri^ht motives, become moral. — In other words, in
order to develop morality, the teacher does not have to resort to
some new processes, to some kind of activity and training dis-
tinct from all employed before, but has to awaken love of what is
right and to stimulate the pupil to make this love the motive of
his actions. Moral action, in a word, does not regard a distinct
kind of action, bat a distinct kind of motive. The teacher who

MORAL CONTROL.

>SI

is making use of all possible methods to give the pupil proper
control of his physical and of his mental activities, and who,
at the same time, by example, by sympathy, by correction, by
awakening admiration of good characters and good acts, and, if
necessary, by direct precept, is inspiring in the pupil love of
the right, is doing all that can be dune to build up moral
character.

Relation of motive to moral action. — A few examples will
make clear the relations of motive to moral action. Both lying
and truth-telling:, considered as external acts, and considered
internally with reference to psychological { rocesscs entering into
them, are the same. They differ in the kind of motive which
inspires each. The act of a surgeon in performing an operation
that leads to the death of a patient, and the act of a murderer
are, as acts, alike. The difference, again is in the motive that
led to each act ; the reason for which it was performed. It is
then not the outcome, the result of an act that makes it moral,
but the motive, the reason in which it originates.

Motive and Responsibility. — This is the reason why persons
hold themselves, and are held by others, responsible or account-
able for moral action, and not for prudential action. The re-
sult is often, perha[)s generally, beyond one's control ; the motive
never. For example, a man wishes to become rich. His
attaining wealth, while partly depending upon his own industry,
foresight, etc yet depends also upon forces of nature and so-
ciety which he cannot govern. These forces may defeat his
best plans, and thus, considered from the standpoint of result,
his act is a failure. Yet he does not blanie himself for the
failure, so far as it depends solely upon outside agencies. But
when one is untruthful, one recognizes that the failure lies not
with outside forces, but in himself. His choice or motive was
wrong, and for this choice, as his own act, he holds himself
responsible

TT'V^

•5a

FORMS OF VOLITIONAL DEVELOPMENT.

I ;

Motive and Character. — It is also evident that moral action
forms character in a sense in which other action docs not. In
prudential and physical control, only the proricses, not /he re-
sult, make character. In moral character the result makes or is
character. One touches what a man has ; the otlier what he is.
A man's wealth, health, knowledge, social standing deeply in-
fluence his being yet they do not make it. But a man's will is
himself, not something which he has. When, therefore, a man
chooses to be good, not merely wislies in a v.i.t,'ue way that he
were or might mysteriously become good, he is in so far good.
The choice, the selection of the motive makes him what he is.
The set or bent of a man's will constitutes his character, and
this set or bent is constituted by the ruling motives of his life.

Character and the Sense of Obligation. — VV^e have seen before
that the relation of character and choice is reciprocal. This
holds in moral action. A constant choice of the right
makes, is, upright character ; and this, in turn leads to a
strengthening of the sense of obligation, increasing the power
of right motives to control choice. We cannot overestimate
the evil of evil choice in leading to evil results ; but more dis-
heartening yet is the fact that wrong choice and action weaken
the sense of obligation, and thus lessen tUo force of good mo-
tives. Almost the worst thing that can he said ot a pupil is, not
that he does this or that bad thing, but that he seems to have
no idea of obligation -of duty. The well-spring of moral
action is dried-up, and good deeds come, if they come at all,
only by impulse or by accide .t.

The Grovith of Idea of Obligation. — Xo a child the sense
of obligation can come «j>niy in connection with particu-
lar acts. This or that deed is right or wrong. .And it comes at
first negatively rather than positively. That is, it comes thri )Ugh
restraint ; the child is forbidden to do this or tliat thing, i'he
impulse is met by a restraining power, and in the conflict of
natural impulse to do with the injunction io forbear doing, the

MORAL CONTROL.

^S3

child gets his first moral experiences. Then come positive in-
junctions to do certain things which his impulses, if left to them-
selves, would not do. Gradually the experience is generalized.
There comes the idea of /a7Vj of something always obligatory
standing over against impulse to control it both by arresting
and by guiding it.

The Performance ol Z?tf/;tfj— While a large sliare of the moral
education of a child consists in developing his sense of obligation,
it is, of course, also important that he be trained to act upon re-
cognized obligation. In general a child who really/(?tf/j obligation
is impelled to act accordingly ; the obligation becomes a concrete
motive or moving power. lUit there are other forces -which act
along tvith the force of obligation, and which re-act upon it to
strengthen it. There is, first, the force of habit, as already
mentioned. A righr jrtion often done tends to be repeated,
independent of its ngutness. Secondly, there are certain lower
impulses and motives which may be called in by the educator;
the desire for reward, to escape punishment, for future gratifi-
cation, for the approval of others, etc., while not moral motives,
may be judiciously employed by the teacher as forces co-oper-
ating in right doing. A manipulation of non-moral motives
leading to moral acts constitutes, especially with younger
children, a large part of the work of the educator.

And, thirdly, there are motives which, if not originally moral
become such with a very slight development. These are es-
pecially pity, sympathy and love. Such f(;elings tend to iden-
tify the child with those ab(;ut him — first in the family, then in
the school, then in the wider relations of society. This
identification makes real the claims that others have upon him-
these claims, the rights of others, are not mere abstract obliga-
tions, but are his own interests. He is interested in them as
he is in his own wants and desires. This identification also
extends the range of obligations that the child recognizes j what-
ever obligations the one whom he loves and admires recog'

»54

rORMS OF VOLITIONAL DKVELOPMENT.

nizes, he also feels that he ought to recognize. And finally
such an identification weakens the motive that tends most
strongly to wrong conduct, selfishness, namely. It takes the
child beyond his own personal gratification and widens his
being, his character. Only that can satisfy him which satisfies
t)thers. 'i'his feeling, if properly trained, must finally cause
the person to recognize, practically if not theoretically, his
identity of interests and purpose with those of all other per-
sons, and must change the bare feeling of obligation into a
powerful social motive.

Results of Moral Control. — i. Generic or Immanent
Choice.— ^T\i\'& term implies two things; first, that the result of
forming a moral habit, or mode of moral control, forms a
general motive in that direction. It creates a state of choice.
A child who has the organized habit of truth telling does not
have to exercise specific choice in each case; but has a general
governing intention or purpose which controls all cases. It im-
plies, secondly, that this general decision continues in action
even when there is no immediate cause for action. A temperate
man's temperance does not cease to exist when he is not satis-
fying some appetite. The choice is immanent in him ; that is,
it remains permanently to direct the course of his actions.

2. Automatic and Intuitive Decision. — A person who has fixed
habits of action does not have to hesitate a long time before
acting. An immature character may have a long struggle before
choosing, but a thoroughly good or a thoroughly bad character
has no such struggle ; such a person chooses automatically.
Fixity of character shows itself also in intuitive recognition
of what is right and wrong. An immature character has often
to reflect long in order to decide what is good or bad, but a
formed character makes its decision at once.

3, Regulation of Desires. — The formation of desires is, if we
omit moral considerations, as natural as the origin of impulses ;
the desires are the direct result of the psychical constittidoa

MIND AND BODY.

15S

But when moral motives are recognized, it is seen that obli-
gation extends to the desires. Desires, as well as acts, may be
wrong, and need checking. A settled character decides what
desires can be entertained as well as what acts shall be per-
formed. Character thus fmally decides the emotional bent of
the person.

4. Ej^ective Execution. — Character forms a reserVi>ir of power
back of the choice. An immature character may desire to do
a certain act, may choose it, and yet be overcome by opposing
temptations. There is not enough force back of the choice to
guarantee its realization. But character is a multiplied volition
which guarantees the execution of the chosen end. A person
with fixed character, moreover, takes pleasure in certain desires
and acts, and this pleasure, the abiding interest which he has,
leads him to act

CHAPl'ER VII.

MIND AND BODY.

The mind must be developed as completely as possible. The
mind must also be able to use its developed powers in an effec-
tive way, so as to accomplish as much as possible with them.
To reach these two ends, the body must be healthy and must be
well-trained. The teacher should, therefore, know something
of the mutual relations of mind and body that he may fully
realize the importance of the coipus sanum for the mefis sana^
and that he may be able to infer something as to methods to be
employed in bringing about the ideal relation between them.

Importance of Body for Soul.— The soul of a human
being is. not pure spirit,. -but -cmbo lied mind. This one fact
makes it necessary that in his methods the educator should
always have reference to physical and physiological conditions.

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MIND AND BODY.

It is through the body that the soul is connected with nature ;
with those vast and also minute forces which make up
this whole universe. And the body connects the soul with
material universe in two ways : on the one hand, it maices
the soul a recipient of the influences coming from it ; on the
other hand, it makes the soul an a^ent, a power capable of
affecting or influencing nature. All thai comes to the soul
from without, comes through the body; all that the soul can
give to the world without, it gives through the body.

Relation of Sense- Or^ans^ Muscular System aud Brain, to the
Soul. — In more detail/ all sensations come through the seme-
organs ;\?^ activity of will is manifested through the muscular-
system ; all processes of apperception, and retention, of memory
and thinking are accompanied by activities in the brain and
nervous system. The body is, therefore, not only an instrument
of mind, but its processes, enter, as an integral /actor, into
mental processes and resultst*^ If a sense-organ is defective or is
diseased, the corresponding sensation is absent or abnormal;
■^ if entirely wanting, one department of knowledge is evidently cut
off; if it is distorted, resulting knowledge is abnormal. Indeed,
the distortion of the sensation often leads to a distortion of the
mental process that interprets it. A person with abnormal
auditory sensations often comes to interpret them as voices of
demons, or as the voice of one commanding him to do some
deed. This hallucination, in turn, becomes an " apperceiving
organ," that is, other perceptions and ideas are assimilated to
it ; it becomes a centre about which many ideas gather and are
correspondingly distorted. On the other hand, if the sense-
organ is well controlled, considered simply as a physical instru-
ment, perception becomes definite and accurate, and this tends,
at least, to produce correct and clear habits of thinking.

The same may be said of the relation of the muscular system
to the will. The muscular system is not only a necessary means
of carrying out the decisions of the soul, but its culture or non.

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MIND AND BODY.

«57

culture is directly reflected in the development of the will. Un-
steady, vacillating, or irritable physical habits, are apt to mean
similar habits of attention and choice. The dependence of soul
is not confined, of course, to its relations to the sense-organs
and muscular system ; the eye, the hand, are parts of the body,
consequently their condition depends upon the state of the and
entire organism. The circulation of the blood and nutrition of
the body will reflect themselves in sense-organ, in muscle, and
in the state of the bnin. Hence, the culture of the whole
body is as necessary as that of any special organ. The health of
the body as a whole seems to be intimately connected with the
emotional condition. The organic or common sensations com-
ing from every part of the body, form, it is probable, the
underlying emotional back-ground or disposition, and every
disturbance of the health of the or}2:anism is reflected in a
disturbance of the emotional attitude. Fresh air, exercise,
repose are, through their relation to the emotions, as much
demands of moral hygiene as of physical.

Mind and Brain. — Less is known, of course, of the direct
relations of mind and brain than of the direct relations of mind
and sense-organs, and muscular system. But there is good reason
to believe that every psychical process is accompanied with
change in the brain-centres, and leaves behind it an alteration
of their condition. Lesions oU the brain are accompanied
with greater or less loss of mental function, and insanity is
always found to be accompanied with some cerebral change.
The character of the blood that goes to the brain, the nutrition
of the body and of the nerve-centres, manifest themselves
in the mentnl states. Mental over-work, lack of change, or
excessive sti.nulation, are as disastrous as their analogous phy-
sical disturlances. On the other hand, statistics show that
well-balanctd and thorough mental activity is conducive to
good heallVi and long life, through the correct habit that it
indices in '4e physical organism.

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Structure of Nervous System in Man. — The details of this
belong rather to anatomy and physiology, but it may be well
to recall some leading facts. There are two kinds of nerve-
tissue, the cellular, which is generally gathered into ganglionic
masses or nerve-centres, and the fibrous aggregated into
bundles, known as the nerves. In man these are arranged
so as to form the cerebro-spinal system, including the
brain, the spinal cord and the nerves going from the brain and
the spinal-cord to the various organs of the body. These
nerves are generally classified as mo/or or sensory. The motor
are (f^r*?///, that is, they carry impulses from the central organs
to the muscles and thus induce movement ; the sensory are
afferent, that is, they conduct stimuli from the sense-organs to
the brain-centres and thus occasion sensation. For example,
light is reflected upon the retina of the eye ; the resulting
stimulus is transmitted by the optic nerve to the brain ; ner-
vous changes take place there corresponding to the assimila-
tion of the sensation, to its association with other sensations, and
thus result in the formation of a percept, say the recognition of
an orange; other cerebral changes occur corresponding to a deter-
mination to get the orange ; an impulse goes out along a motor
nerve, the muscles of the hand are stimulated, and the orange
is grasped. The cerebral changes corresponding to the higher
psychical processes are generally thought to occur in the cortex
of the brain, a comparatively thin rind of ganglionic matter
surrounding the fibrous mass of the hemispheres of the brain.

Elementary Properties of Nerve Structures. —

ij'^very nerve structure is irritable or excitable ; that is, capable

of receiving stimuli and of responding to them by the exercise

of energy. Every portion of the nerve tissue is also capable

«*)f conducting these stimuli, or is capable of transmitting its

T)wn excitation to some other point. The fibres are much

better conductors than the ganglia or nerve centres, and hence

are sometimes, but incorrectly, treated as the sole conductors.

■nii

MIND AND BODY.

159

Nerve tissue also has the power of summation, that is, it is
capable of transforming, or summing-up, a number of separate,
minute shocks into one continuous and more prolonged stimu-
lus. It also has the powers of inhibition^ and of plasticity. By
' inhibition is meant that the nervous system is capable of arrest-
ing or controlling stimuli. If a neural organ had only the
property of excitability, it would use up all its energy in
responding to every stimulus that affected it, but being capable
of checking the amount of energy expended in answer to a
stimulus, it is able to keep a reserve force constantly on hand.
Indeed, it is probably this reserve force that acts in opposition
to the stimulus affecting it, and by antagonizing it, arrests the
outflow of energy.
d ,By plasticity is meant that the nerve tissues are altered in
' structure by every process that they undergo. A nerve organ
chat has responded to a stimulus is not the same that it was
before. This property of plasticity is also termed facilitation.
A neural structure that has acted in one way once, acts that
way more easily in future \ indeed, it tends to act that way in
future. This property is also termed accotnmodalion. This
term expresses the fact that a nerve structure that has received
similar stimuli, or undergone similar processes a number of
times, becomes specially accommodated or adjusted to that kind
of stimulus or process. It is evident that plasticity and inhib.
ition are closely connected. The more a nerve structure tends
to act in one way, the greater resistance it will offer to all
stimuli exciting to a different course of action.

Psychological Equivalents. — It is evident that sensation,
interest, and impulse, answer in some way to the property
of excitability. They all stir the soul to action, either
intellectual or volitional, or both. And as the physiological
stimulus is controlled and guided by the inhibition exercised by
the central organs, so the psychological excitations are brought
under the control of the less superficial " apperceptive organs."

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MIND AND BODY.

That is to say, upon both the physiological and the psycholo-
gical sides, we have, on one hand, stimulus to activity, and, on
the other, organized capacities or tendencies (" faculties ") that
respond to the stimulus, and that, by the manner of their re-
sponse, control it. And it is only as the stimulus, whether
physiological or psychological, is inhibited or regulated, that
it becomes effective or of any value. The sensati n is con-
trolled by the intellectual capacities that connect and interpret
it ; the impulse is controlled by the habits of desire and choice
with which it is brought into relation.

Excitation and Inhibition. — A right balance of the

two sides ot excitation and inhibition is necessary for proper
physical or psychical activity. Without excitation there is
dullness, inertia, laziness, lack of incentive ; without inhib-
ition, there is instability, excessive irritability and \ icillation.
There is no selfcontrol, physical or mental, livery stimulus
excites activity to a high degree, and thus exhausts power,
nervous and psychical. It is a noteworthy fact that a fatigued
nerve is relatively more excitable than a fresh one. wSo fatigue
generally shows itself psychically by inability to control attention,
and often by irritation of temper. The reserve force of the
brain centres is exhausted, and the stimuli are comparatively
stronger. Hence the evil effects, mentally and physical, of over
work and over pressure in school. Some psychologists think the
different temperaments are due to the mutual relations of the
stimulating and the inhibiting power. The psychological equi-
valent ot plasticity is, of course, habit 2Lr\6. retention. There is
a change in the structure and function of the nerves, and espe-
cially of the nerve centres, at the basis of the change that the
mind undergoes. And retention, in building up habit and char-
acter, builds up future sell-control, just as plasticity and inhi-
bition are connected.

Localization of Function. — One of the most important topics
in physiological psychology, as well as one of the most import-

MIND AND BODY.

i6i

ant pedagogically, is that of localization of functioiu To what
extent do definite portions of the brain correspond to definite
mental functions and capacities ? The det^ls of this question
are much disputed, but there seems to be growin^^ agreement
of opinion upon the following points :

1. There is original indifference of function. That is, prior
to experience, either of the individual or of the species, there
is no localization. Every i)art of the nervous structure is
equally prepared to exeicise every function.

2. As the result o^ use certain functions become more or less
confined to certain portions of the brain. This v/ould be a ne-
cessary result of the properties of plasticity and accommodation.
Use depends not so much on the structure of a part as upon
its motor, sensory and cerebral connections.

3. The more mec/ianical the function, the more reairy(and
hence perfectly) it is localized. Thus the piocesses ordinarily
called purely mechanical^, like breathing, circulation, etc, have
definite local centres. The spinal-cord and the lower pirts ot
the brain, aside from their conducting functions, seem vo be
groups of centres for regulating mechanical functions. Walking
and other physical habits seem to have definite centres. Ar-
ticulate speech almost always has its nerve-basis in the third
frontal convolution of the left hemisphere.

4. Mental capacities, whether intellectual or volitional, have
ill-defined and changeable centres. That is to say, the capacities
of assimilating and of recognizing various kinds of sense-impres-
sions, and of co-ordinating and controlling various kinds of
motor impulses, have centres in the brain. The centres have
no definite outline, however, and probably overlap one another.
By calling them changeable we mean that if a centre in one
hemisphere is destroyed, the function may, through use, be as-
sumed by a corresponding centre in the other hemisphere. If
this is also destroyed, it is probable that other parts ot the brain,
having proper nerve connections, may be substituted.

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MIND AND BODY.

5. Memory, thinking, choice, etc., have no definite local,
ization. There is no general power of memory, but only
retention and recognition of various original experiences.
Each idea has its own memory, as it vve-e. Hence the
centre of memory is supposed to be the same as that of the
original idea. In other words, the same parts of the brain are
active in remembering that were active in the original percep-
tion. The agreement of this physiological fact with the pre-
cept laid down for training memory will be noticed. Thinking
is relating various memories, ima'>es and ideas. It cannot have
any one centre, therefore, but all parts of the brain involved in
the original perceptions and in the images, must be active in
thinking. Physiologically as well as psychologically there is no
abstract or formal faculty of memory or of thought, apart from
what is remembered, ivhat is thought about.

6. Ideas are not localized. Some have written as if each
idea had a separate cell in the brain, and were then connected
with other cells, by fibres corresponding to the association of
ideas. This cannot be true, however, for an idea is the result
of associations and relations. It is not an entity in itseU, but
is a complex result of many factors and processes. I'he idea
of K * dog,' for example, in^ olves elements coming from all the
senses ; involves motor elements used in speaking or writing the
word dog; involves, in an educited person, words corresponding
to the same idea in several languages ; and involves all the
manifold knowledge a person has about the habits, varieties,
etc, of dogs. Almost every kind of idea may be thus involved
in an idea, apparently as simple as that of dog. All portions
of the brain corresponding to these elements must, therefore, be
active when we have the idea.

Educational Principles. — Aside from being convinced
of the necessity of thorough culture and care of the body the
teacher may, by the foregoing brief summary, be confirmed in
certain educational principles already laid down. Firsts he may

SUMMARY OF PRINCIPLKS.

163

see that tbe idea of organization of faculty, through retention of
the result of every experience, which has been so much empha-
sized, has a i)hysical basis and efiiciency. Secondly, he may
see that it is a physiological impossibility that there should be
specific direct training of any one faculty. The faculty can be
trained only through the materid assimilated, and the assimi-
lation of the material requires the activity of the fundamental
mental processes and functions. Educate association and at-
tention, educate analysis and s\ nthesis, and to a large degree
memory, thinking, etc., will take care of themselves. Thirdly,
as no cell or fibre has originally any particular function in itself,
but acquires functions only through its connections, so,
mentally, telations established by association and by attenti<>n
are more important than the isolated sensation itself.

CHAPTER VIII.

SUMMARY OF PRINCIPLES.

We shall now go over the psychological discussion, select the principle^
of most importance for the teacher, and rearrange them under appropriate
heads, that we may, as far as possible, derive general maxims for the guid-
ance of the teacher. After having done this we shall be m a position to
criticise some of the current maxims, recot^nizing both their value and their
limilalions. The educational principles to be gathered from our present
knowledge of psychology may be classified as follows :

I. Bases upon which instruction should rest.
II. I'^nds at which instruction should aim.
III. Methods which instruction should follow.

I. Bases of Instruction.

I. Always base instruction upon some activity oj the pupil.

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SUMMARY or PRINCIPLES.

This is a principle which holds good from the beginning ; from the pri-
mary stage to the final, or university stage. Education is the development
of the psychical activities, and must, therefore, begin with some spontaneous
manifestation of the activity to be educated. This activity may appear
in the form of an impulse, an interest, a habit, an exercise of effort, an as-
sociating or relating activity, according to the degree of development, — but
personal or self-activity there must be.

2. Always base instruction upon some interest of th e pupil.
This principle, again is co-extensive with the whole range of education.

The interest may belong to the activity put forth, to the ol)jet:t upon which
the activity is exercised, to some remoter end, which it ishopud the activity
will reach ; it may not have originally belonged to the activity or to its
object, but may have been transferred to it from something else interesting,
or it may be induced by appealing to social motives (sympathy, love), or to
rational motives (desire of knowledge, of progress, etc.) — but personal inter,
tst there must be.

3. Always base instruction upon some idea already existing in

the pupil's mindi.

In the current phrase, knowledge must proceed from the " known to the
unknown." A fact or action absolutely new and unlike anything in the
pupil's mind, cannot by any possibility be lodged in that mind. It can
gain entrance only by being taken hold of by some idea already there. In-
struction consists in supplying nutriment to some idea already in the mind
so as to make it grow into a larger and more accurate idea, rather than in
forcing or pouring something into the mind from without. There are two
principles which we have repeatedly had occasion to notice which streng-
then that jiist laid down : one is that we always learn with what we have
already learned ; the other is that an idea (however vague) of what is to b«
done must precede any doing.

II. Ends of Instruction.

I. Aim at making instruction significant. This includes : fir sty

make each subject, as a whole significant^ and second, make every

statement within the subject significant.

(1) There is no evil in education greater than teaching subjects so that their
actual bearing is lost sight of : teaching them as if they were mere studies
instead of real bodies of fact. The divorcing of knowledge obtained by study
in * school from that obtained spontaneously out of school, is one of the
things the teacher must be most constantly on his guard against. Children

SUMMARY OF PRINCIPLES.

165

may study geography and not find out that they are simply extending and
classitying the knowledge about the world that they have been getting ever
•ince they were bom ; they may study history without realizing that they
are but enlarging their knowledge of real men and real deeds ; they may
study grammar without finding out that they are simply defining and ana-
lyzing what they have always had some practical knowledge of. All is
remote, arbitrary and consequently meaningless and burdensome. Nono
of the educational reforms of the last generation has been more important
than that in primary methods which has connected studies with ordinary
ways 01' gaining knowledge and with ordinary kinds of knowledge.

(/V) Every new statement of fact or law must be explained, illustrated
and acted upon, so as to gain significance. It must be translated into old
perceptions, and must be transformed into personal actions in order that its
meaning may be fully apprehended.

2. Aim at making instruction definite.

Every lesson should have a point, and every question upon that lesson
should have a point, precise, salient, unambiguous. Irrelevant matter
should be excluded : the teacher must avoid the introduction of confusing
examples or analogies. Objects presented must plainly illustrate just the
point desired ; if they do not in themselves, attention must be fixed upon
the relevant points of the object. A great deal of scientific experiment and
illustration by the teacher is practically wasted because the pupil observes
only the sensational result, or because the experiment illustrates so many
points beside the one in hand. Again, every expression, every form of Ian*
guage used by the pupil must be definite so far as the extent of knowledge
and the idiosyncracies of the pupil permit. Finally the teacher should
remember that knowledge is naturally anything but definite. Vague and
cloudy ideas come first, and they will in many minds remain vague to the
end unless the teacher is constantly alive to the necessity of arousing mental
activities to work upon them.

3. Aim ai making instruction practical.

Instruction ia practical when, as has been explained, ideas lead to action
and action is based upon ideas. In the period when everything that a child
Xfa^iViii counts y and when he is learning more rapidly than at any other time
in his life, namely his first five years, there is no divorce of knowing from
doing. Every idea the child gets is acted upon, and every idea is got
through action. We shall have an ideal method of education when this
same connection between knowledge and action, (though the activities need

life

i66

SUMMARY OF PRINCIPLES.

not be physical) is continued throuph all school years, and is joined to a

r<y«/i/r system of means and ends for securing it.

(i) Instruction is practical when it leads to thefo,
ri}iht habits.

Instruction given simply for the sake of conveying information cannot be
practical. The information must be given for the sake of the habits for tnai,
the discipline of intellij^'ence, emotion and will produced. A right under-
standing of this principle shows what is the true function of drill \n educa
tion. There must be drill, there must be a mechanical side to education,
but it is all important that the mechanical be confined to its proper place
— the training of habits, the organizing of capacities. Drill, for its own
sake, apart from its influence in building up right habits is the most power-
ful of the forces at work in severing school work from the real world, and
in making it artificial and unreal. Imagine a child out of school drilled
and redrilled upon some facts he has gathered in conversation or in reading,
as he too often is upon facts learned in school ; drilled as if the sole value
of the facts consisted in the extent to which they lent themselves to pur-
poses of drill : would not the result be that these facts would become unreal
and distasteful ; that interest would die out ; that the sense of proportion,
of the difference between the important and the unimportant, would be de-
stroyed, and that, by dwelling on what is familiar to the degree of tedious-
ness, habits of mind-wandering would be formed ? But when drill is used
simply as means and as means to forming right habits in the subject studied,
whatever it be, these evil results are avoided, and the proper union of
knowing and doing is svslcmatically secured.

(ii) If ist ruction is practical when it leadsjo^the organization of
new faculties and powers.

The subject of retention "Kas been so often alluded to that there is no need
of dwelling upon this principle here. It is evident that if instruction is
carried on with a view to the effect which ideas apprthended have upon the
mind, it will lead to the production of new capacities and powers ; that, in-
stead of an accumulation of isolated and dead facts in the mind, there will
be an assimilation and digestion of them, by which they will be worked
over into centres of new activity and apprehension.

(Hi) Instruction is practical when it develops the fundamental
psychical powers, Association and Attention^ Apperception i*.vd
Retention.

kI to a

nnot be

formed,
t under-
I etluca
ucation,
ler place
its own
t power-
)rld, and
\ drilled
reading,
ole value

to pur-
■ne unreal
roportion,
aid be de-
f tedious-
ill is used
;t studied,

union of

ization of

is no need
itruction is
ve upon the
\ ; that, in-
, there will
be worked

ndamental
ption aV

SUMMARY OF PRINCIPLES.

167

It is not upon the specific knowledge acquired, nor upon the
specific habits formed, nor yet u|)on the specific powers gained,
that the pupil will have most to rely after he leaves school,
and upon which his success in life will most depend. It is the
cultivation of the mind in its fundamental cap.icities, its powers
of forming proper connections, of apprehending readily and
accurately, of retaining firmly and for long periods, of concen-
trating and directing attention, that decides whether or not the
person is educated for life.

Fortunately the four ends mentioned are all met by the same methods.
The best methods of acquiring knowled^^e in the subject of arithmetic are
also the surest to develop rijjht habits of dealing with arithmetical relations,
and the most effective in orgnnizing mental faculties. And the methods
that form right habits and organize new pow( rs are also the methods which
are surest to disciplin •, cultivate and develop the fundamental powers of
mind, and to give association and attention ability to deal with whatever
questions present themselves.

III. Methods of Instruction.

I. Teach one thing at a (hii£^

This does not mean simply that geography is to be taught at one time,
history at another, and so on. It means that every subject is to be so pre-
sented that the mmd's activities may be directed, all its energies concen-
Iratedy upon one point at a time. Operations that, to an adult, have
become so habitual that their various factors are consolidated into one
simple process are, to a beginner, highly complex, and it is necessary for
the teacher to select these various factors, present them in logical order,
and drill the puiiils upon each one of them separately. When the question
is as to the special methods to be adoi)ted in teaching some subject, as read-
ing, arithmetic, etc., the first step is to discover what mental operations the
mind must go through in grasping tliat subject ; the next step is to arrange
ways by which the child's attention may be coiifmrd successively to each
one of these constituent operations, beginning, of course, with the simplest.

Example. — Reading aloun is to an educated adult a comparatively simple
matter. The wrong m^ihods, once in use, went upon the principle that it
was a correspondingly simple matter to a child, and, therefore, endeavoured
to make the child's mind work in three or four directions at once. The

't,

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SUMMARY OF PRINCIPLES.

!IB!

result, naturally, was that some of the aspects of reading were slighted, and
that none of the processes involved in reading was efBciently and economi-
cally performed. For, consider how complex the operation really is.
First, attention must be paid to the visual sensations in order to recognize
the written word ; then there must be the mental operation of combining
the letters and words ; then of paying attention to the ideas symbolized by
the words ; then, in order to pronounce the words with expression, atten-
tion must be paid to the auditory sensations represented by the words ; then
to their association with the motor impulses required to make the sounds ;
and then to the proper inflection, pitch, emphasis, etc., that will give the
full meaning of what is written. The analysis could be carried farther, but
here we have six distinct operations, to each of which separate attention
must be j;aid if the child is to learn to read well. How much better,
therefore, the methods which select the various operatitms and train the
child in them, one by one, than the methods that present all in a mass and
compel the pupil to pick out the processes for himself.

Meaning of Analytic Methods in Education. — Every right method is a way
of assisting some noriiiaL_psxchical process (page 4), and this method of
" teaching one thing at a time " finds its justification in its relation to the
mind's analytic function. The immature mind cannot perform the neces-
sary analysis for itself; if it could it would need no instruction. But it is
overwhelmed by the mass of facts confronting it. It is the function of the
teacher so to subdivide and analyze the material, that the pupil's mind shall
work analytically. A pupil who notices the sounds that his teacher is mak-
ing, and then attempts to reproduce them, is performing mental analysis.
There is one thing presented to him, and all his attention is concentrated
upon that one thing. An analytic method in education always consists in
resolving a subject into its component members^ and in presenting these num-
bers, one at a time, to the mind's activities to work upon.

Advantages of Analytic Method. — Its main advantage is, of course, that
it is based upon and aids a fundamental function of mind, one which must
be used if knowledge is to be gained. But there are minor advantages
which may be noticed .

(i) It economizes mental Energy. — When the mind is called upon to pay
attention to sometliing^whTch contains a number of unfamiliar factors, it is
really called upon to attend to that number of subjects at once. The result
is that mental energy is diffused, scattered and largely wasted. There is
greater strain upon the mind than if one point were presented at a time,
but las is accomplishtd.

SUMMARY OF PRINCIPLES.

169

(it) It df fines tftental P rcidtr*' — A distinct mental product is one which
h,Ts by attention been difTerentiated from others (page 59). Paying atten<
tion to one thing at a time, therefore, necessarily makes distinct what is at-
tended to. On the other hand, when subjects are presented, en masse^ as
it were, everything is undefined, vague and blurred.

(Hi) It excl udes irrelevant Material. — The tendency of the mind to asso-
ciate whatever is presented at the same time whether it should be connected
or not, has been noticed (page 32). Unless pains are taken to select one
thing and fix attention upon that, the mind is almost sure to include much
that should not be included. When a pupil tells a teacher that "Columbus
knew the earth was round because he balanced an egg on the table ;" it is
easy to laugh at him ; but the probability is that these two statements had
been presented to him in such juxtaposition amid a jumble of facts that his
mind naturally associated them.

(iv) It prepares the way for Memory . — It has already been sufficiently
repeated that memory is not a general power, but that there is a memory
for everything learned, depending upon the vividness, distinctness and con-
nections of the original apprehension. When one thing is attended to at a
time, the requirements of correct apprehension are so well met that remem-
bering follows naturally,

(v) It fonns t he analytic Habit.

When we say that a man has a trained mind, that he has his
mental powers under good command, we almost always mean
that he is able in any subject he tak s up to seize upon its im-
portant points, to distinguish them clearly, and hold them
firmly, no matter how complicated and confused the subject
upon its surface. This means that he has acquired one of the
best, if not the best, results of intellectual training — an analytic
habit 0/ mind ; a habit of grasping and defining leading facts
and principles. If educators invariably follow the principle
here laid down, the inducement to form this habit is strong.
Paying attention to " one thing at a time," the mind is gradually
led to look for the " one thing " which underlies a varied mass
of facts ; it feels irritated and ill at ease until this unity is
discovered, so that finally the pupil is able to dispense with the
teachers preparatory analysis.

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SUMMARY OF PRINCIPLES.

1. Tea^h in a connected Manner.

This principle bears the same relation to the Synthetic Function of mind
that the one just given does to the analytic function. The method based
upon it may be termed, therefore, the synthetic method. This method de-
mands that certain conditions be met both upon the side of the pupil and of
the teacher.

It demands of the teacher :

(i) Unitv Qf_juju^or an Educational Ideal,

A teacher who does not have, in every detail of his school work, a pur-
pose larger than that detail, must not only fall into a mechanical way of
teaching, but must teach in a disconnected dispersive manner. There is
no one end which runs through his class-work, his discipline, his inter-
course with pupils, etc., welding them into a unity. But a teacher possessed
of a practical ideal, that of forming good habits of mind in his students, will
by this ideal connect all details, no matter how diverse they may be in
themselves.

(ii) That the teacher be systematic.

The teacher must have a definite and comprehensive idea of what he is
going to do in a given term. He must have his plans laid for an educa-
tional campaign. He must have a conception of what he is going to ac-
complish and by what means.

(Hi) That instruction be ^raded^ ._

There must be gradual advance from the easy to the difficult, from the
simple to the complex, from the familiar to the novel. It was a saying of
the schoolmen that nature never makes leaps. In this respect, instruction
should "follow nature." It should have the continuity, the silent, imper-
ceptible yet inevitable progress that marks natural growth.

So far as the pupil is concerned, the synthetic method re-
quires :

(i) That hnmn?jjJc^J}i^(rh^ JTiis is for ttvo

reasons: because in training the perceptive poivers a I the fowers
of the mind are trained^ and, because rep esnitative knowledge
must be capable of translation into presentative.

That knowledge should be connected is our general principle. It cannot
be connected if there are representative or symbolic ideas incapable of

SUMMARY OF PRINCIPLES.

171

translation into presentations. Such ideas would be isolated and meaning-
less. Nor can it be connected unless there is an orderly development or
unfoldinij of the powers involved in getting knowledge. The necessity of
translating images and concepts into percepts has already been dwelt upon,
and so we shall occupy ourselves here with the other part of the maxim.
This is somtitimes stated : Train the faculties in the order of their develop-
ment, first, perception, then memory and imagination, then reasoning. But
a more adequate statement would be : Train perception always, and in
such a ivay that the other poxuers shall i^rmv from it. For the fust state-
ment seems merely to imply that memory, imagination, etc., come after
perception, losing sight of the important Axct that they come after, only be-
cause they covat from perception. In other wonh, all mental activities are
exercised in perception, and exercised in such a way that they naturally and
gradually pass into higher forms.

Activities involved in Pfireption. — If perception were the same as having
sensations, this principle would not be true ; and any educational systen^
which puts the f/i/^emphasis upon the senses, inverts the tme order. Sensri-
tions are necessary, as afTording stimuli to call forth the mental powers. ?.nd
as afTording material upon which these powers shall act. Sensations must
be attended to, must be associated, must be idealized and retained in order
to become knowledge.

A right training of perception trains, therefore, all the mental activities
involved in it, instead of merely heaping up sensations, or even training
the sense organs alone. For example, take the intuitive method of teaching
numbers. Here the child learns, say that , . and , . .are tht- same
as , : ; and as *(J \ If the sensations the child gets were the only result
of the process, the method would be useless. For the time must come when
he will have to grasp the relations involved, and experiencing sensations any
•lumber of times, would not give any preparation for the apprehension of
relations. But m reality, the child relates the sensations of , , and of
and only because he relates them does he perceive anything.

' The child makes or institutes the relation, and thus necessarily j^repares
the way for conception or the conscious graspins;^ of the relation. He per-
forms, without recognizing its full significance, 2k kind of relating identical
with that performed by the most advanced mathematician in the highest
branches, and so far as the child grasps the meanim^ nf elementary ideas
in any sul)ject, he is employing, however unconsciously, the relations whose
conscious apprehension constitutes t/nnkim;,

Tketvoo Factors in Training of Perception, — In order to establish a con-
nected growth from perception^ there are, in its training, two point* is

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SUMMARY OF PRINCIPLES.

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particular, to be looked after. One is ideutifying the presentation with
what has already been presented, recognition ; the other is the discovery of
something implied in the perception, but not apparent on the surface, its
differentiation. The recognition of the presentation implies, of course, that
former knowledge, organized capacities, are brought to bear ; that what is
now perceived is assimilated to what was formerly perceived. This en*
sures not only the recognition of the new presentation, but the strengthen-
ing of the acquired faculty by its exercise. This recognizing activity is evi-
dently involved in the simplest perception, as e, g. that by which the child
sees that c-a-t spells cat, and is also involved in that by which the older
student identifies a botanical species, perceives the principle which covers a
mathematical problem, or sees that the form of some given Greek word
illustrates a law of euphonic change.

But there should be in all perception a new factor as well as an old.
The child who sees that , , and , , , is the same as 'j: I sees it only
by putting together the first two number-forms and taking apart the last. He
perceives the identity by discovering it, by making it. So when a child
puts the sounds of the letters c,a,t to make the word, he not only recognizes,
but he discovers. In higher education we have clearly the factor of dis-
covery in scientific experiment, in the demonstration of original proposi-
tions, in the analysis of unfamiliar plants, in the dissection of animals, etc.
But it i^ a mistake to suppose that experiment and an element of original
investigation are confined to advanced pursuits, or to natural and physical
sciences. They are involved to some degree in every act of perception
which gives new knowledge, and education should be so directed as to em-
ploy in all stages this acquisition of new knowledge by perception. New
knowledge is obtained only through an act of construction, or synthesis,
and this is, in reality, an act of discovery. It should be noticed that the
new combination of these two factors of recognition and discovery renders
knowledge connected. The old is made the basis of apprehending the new,
while the new is made the means of extending or developing the old.

(ii) The synthetic method demands that facts he conncted to-
gether by the lams^4if-ussadMim o,nd by the relations of unity and
difference so that they form centres or groups of ideas.

An isolated fact is learned by the pupil only through sheer force of im-
pressing it on his mind. Both brain and mind are plastic in childhood, and
there is no doubt that the child can store away multitudes of comparatively
unconnected facts. But this method does rot train mental power ; it gives no
strength to old capacities, and no aid to the organization of new. Further-

SUMIIARY or PRINaPLlS.

«73

more, this method draws wastefully upon mental energy ; the facts are
learned by an expenditure of force, and are carried by expenditure of force ;
in both ways, the mind is burdened. But facts learned by associations and
relations, strengthen and form faculty in the very process of making
tlK connections, or appropriating the material. Further, the mind gains
instead of losing in carrying power by its assimilation of facts so learned.
These connected ideas serve as centres about which allied ideas gather ;
thus they carry others, instead of having to be carried by the energy of the
mind.

Training of Connection of Ideas. — It is impossible here to lay down de-
tailed rules for connecting ideas in various studies. There are, however,
some facts bearing upon the subject which may be called to mind. First,
this connecting activity is normal to the mind ; the mind strives to connect
whenever it can, and the teacher can accomplish much by presenting ma-
terial so that the child's mind is drawn on naturally from one point to an-
other. Again, a unity of feeling, or of interest, will connect ideas or subjects
otherwise diverse. Children at play thus unite all kinds of ideas. The
story has recently been told of children who began by building houses in a
sand pile, and went on gradually to the development of agricultural, manu-
facturing, railway and commercial establishments, comprehending in all a
vast number of different activities. A unity of interest made the transi-
tions. And so it wi'l be in schools. Again, the subjects of reading, spell-
ing, writing, composition, history and geography may undoubtedly be
better interwoven with one another than they have hitherto been. Indeed,
of all the branches of study in earlier years, arithmetic is the only one
which does not lend itself easily, and almost inevitably, to union with other
studies if the principle of interconnection is once grasped.

{iii) The synthetic method demands that the groups of ideas
thus formed be used as organs for acquiring new knowledge.

This principle has two sides. A pupil who has learned, for example, the
simple arithmetical operations must, on the one hand, constantly use them ;
must add, subtract, etc. ; and, on the other hand, must gain new arithmetical
knowledge as an expansion or development of these operation.^. Old
knowledge must be exercised in gaining new presentations, and these must
be assimilated or appropriated by being brought into oiganic union with
acquired knowledge. Old knowledge identifies or grasps the new present-
ation, the new presentation strengthens, expands and organizes old know>
ledge. There must be apperception on one side ; retention on the other.

174

SUMMARY Of PRINCIPLES.

Applications of Principle. — The principle requires, first, frequent reviews
of former knowledge. Keviews have as their purpose not merely repeating
former knowledge, and thus impressing it more deeply upon the mind, but
also its grouping and classifying. It is important that the ])upil should be
led to form the habit of re-arranging what he has learned ; of bringing it
under its proper heads, and of placing these heads in their proper relations
to one another. In reviews, therefore, the serial order should often be
changed for a topical order. A trained mind, after having amassed many
facts, always endeavors to reduce them to as few principles as possible.
This process not only assists the mind in grasping the real meaning of the
facts, but it trains tliought and memory. The reasoning powers are trained
in the effort to discover the underlying principles, and to connect the facts
with them. The memory is developed because only the principles have to
be remembered ; the facts cluster about them as instances or illustrations.

The principle requires, secondly, that there be mental preparation for
engaging in studying or in learning. That is, before a pupil enters upon
the study of a new subject his mind must be prepared for it : before he
takes up a new topic or principle, his mind must be prepared, and
before he sets himself to leurn any lessons there must be preparatory
adjustment of mind. This preparation consists, partly, in Stirling up
ideas already in the mind, in re-auakening interest in them, and in calling
them into activity; and, partly, in forming transitions, in showing how these
ideas lead naturally to something else. Without this preparatory activity
no attention can be given (pages 6i and 62), and hence what is studied
is not connected with what has previously been learned, and there is no
assimilation nor comprehension.

This principle requires, thirdly, that old knowledge be exercised. There
are two injunctions of equal importance to the teacher. One is that new
knowledge be not simply impressed upon the mind : the other is that old
knowledge be not simply j'/(7r<'fl' or passively retained /« the mind. Con-
stantly employing wliat has been learned guards against boih these errors.
To use grammatical principles in analyzing speech, in correcting errors, in
constructing new sentences, etc., enlarges and organizes these principles,
and at the same time causes what is learned to gather about them, and to
■^ain meaning from them. Old knowledge and new facts are thus so con-
nected together that both are made vital. Kept apart, both are dead.
Just as the body must have nourishment in order to keep itelf living, and
just as food by becoming nourishment is itself transformed iVum dead to
living material, so with the mind and its food-studies. Unless the mind
constantly uses what it has gained to gain more, it loses what it has pos-
sessed ; and unless what is gained is connected with mental power already
existing, it is a burden rather than a gain.

SUMMARY OF PRINCIPLES.

«75

Analytic and Synthetic Methods.— We may sum up

our discussion of methods by calling attention to three facts.
I. All special methods are only applications to particular
branches of the analytic and synthetic methods. 2. These two
methods do not exclude, but supplement, each other. 3. They
are not to be confused with physical division and composition.

I. Since the fundamental powers or functions o( mind are
analysis and synthesis, since all that is ever learned is learned
by being distinguished from and connected with other ideas,
it follows that all educational methods must rest upon these
powers. Any method in any subject that has value, must
appeal, to some extent, to the discriminating and the unifying
functions of intelligence, and the best method is that which
appeals to them in the most systematic way, and which stimu-
lates them to the fullest and most intense activity. In his
knowledge of these powers every teacher has an instrument by
which he may test for himself the value of any special method
which is proposed.

a. Since mental analysis and synthesis are not separate,
much less opposed, functions of mind, it follows that analytic and
synthetic educatiorial methods cannot be opposed. Indeed,
we should rather speak of the analytic and synthetic aspects of
an educational method, than of an analytic and a synthetic
method. It follows that discussions as to whether gctjgraphy,
for example, should be taught by an analytic or a synthetic
method, rest upon failure to understand the meaning of the
terms used, and of the mental processes involved. Methods
of teaching geography must possess both phases, or else some
necessary mental operation is left unperformed. What is usually
presented as the synthetic method, beginning, namely, with the
locality familiar to the ]?upil and making divisions of land and
water known from it, is, in reality, both synthetic and analytic
It is synthetic, because it connects what the pupil has to learn

iHI

S'iS

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176

SUMMARY OF PRINCIPLES.

with what he already knows ; it begins with presentations ind
translates representative ideas into them. But it is also analytic,
for, by such operations the vague outline-knowledge of the world
which the child has is transformed into knowledge of the defi-
nite forms of land and water, etc., that make the world what it is.
When a child learns that one geographical element is a lake ;
that a lake has islands, bays, capes, peninsulas, etc., etc., the
process must be an analytic one. The fact that the child may
make the analysis by noticing a pond in his own dooryard, does
not change the process of mind from an analytic into a " syn-
thetic " one. And this illustration is typical. While in some
methods, one aspect may predominate over another, yet so far
as the method is justifiable, it must be both analytic and syn-
thetic.

3. The error of opposing menta\ analysis and synthesis gen-
erally arises from the prior error of confusing them as mental
functions with physical operations having the same names.
Physical analysis, or division of a whole occupying space into
smaller parts is opposed to physical synthesis, or the composi-
tion of smaller parts into a larger spatial whole. Thus, in geo-
grai)hy, that method has been called synthetic, which begins
with the small part of the earth known to the pupil, and then
advances to the larger world ; while the analytic method is sup-
posed to mean beginning with information about the earth as a
whole, then taking up smaller subdivisions as continents, and
gradually coming down to the smaller divisions of country, vil-
lage, etc. But this misapprehends the real meaning of mental
analysis and synthesis. The terms do not refer primarily to
any difference in the size or extent of material objects. Mental
analysis does not divide spatial wholes, but renders ideas
definite^ that is clear, both as a whole, and in details ; mental
synthesis does not join parts of objects or of space, but shows
how ideas are related to one another, how they have a common
meaning. Distinctness^ not separation, unity ^ not fusion are the

SUMMARY OF PRINCIPLES.

lit

purposes of mental analysis and synthesis, and these not of ma-
terial objects, but of knowledge, (See pages 58 and 59.)

Illustration from Reading, — The same error is seen in many
of the discussions regarding the synthetic method of teaching
reading. It is first taken for granted that some spatial unit must
be found as the basis, and the question is discussed whether
the unit is the letter, or the word, or the sentence. But in reality,
what the pupil must begin with is the whole mass of sounds
that he makes use of in pronouncing words. While these sounds
in themselves are distinct, to his mind they have no such defi-
niteness (see p. 80). Undoubtedly the various sounds y^^/ differ,
ent to the child, but this difiference is not knozvn or recognized.
His first act must, therefore, be to notice some of these sounds,
and tlirough attention dwelling upon them make them distinct.
He performs an act of analysis. But at the same time, he must
notice how these sounds go together 10 make words ; and
his attention dwells upon the relations of the sounds. Thus
the pupil performs an act of synthesis^ or combination. By
one act his knowledge of the primary sounds of speech be-
comes definite ; by the other, his knowledge becomes connected,,
By both acts, his fundamental mind functions are trained, and
the habit of defining and unifying ideas is formed.

Relations of Knowledge, Feeling and Will—
Wh'le in the previous chapters knowledge, feeling and will
have been discussed separately, nothing has been said about
their relations to one another. This subject is, however, im-
portant to the teacher. Partly from the necessity of the case,
pardy from surrounding circumstances, and partly from the tra-
ditional school curriculum, direct mstruction in our schools is
confined mainly to knowledge. It is important to know in
what degree this involves indirect training of feeling and will,
and also in what degree it needs sujiplenienting.

The Mind an Organic Unity, — The fact is that knowledge,
feeling and will are so closely interconnected that it is impos-

Ifi

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«7«

tUMMARY OP PRINCIPLES.

•ibie to educate one without at once requiring and securing
training of the other two. Aside from the fact that appercep-
tion and retention underlie all these, that the functions of
analysis and synthesis enter into them all, and that the main
principles of development (from the presentative and immedi-
ate to the representative and mediate, etc.) are alike in all,
the mind is a unity, and primarily it is mind that is affected by
education and not knowledge, feeling or will. There is but
one mind, and knowledge, feeling and will are not three depart-
ments of mind, but three phases of its manifestation. Just as ,
it would be impossible for the digestive organs to digest food
without the aid of the circulatory, the respiratory and the nervous
processes, and just as the digestion of food must re-act upon
all these other operations, so the mind cannot know without
the support of feeling and of will, and without the re-action of
knowledge upon the emotional disposition and the volitional
capacities. While in a material or spatial unity, the parts of
the whole may exist side by side without influencing the struc-
ture of one another, as grains of sand in a sand-pile, in an
organic unity, like the mind, each activity or member, is what it
is by virtue of the other activities or members that influence it.

liH

'III

Dependence of Knowledge. — In all knowledge which is got by
study or which requires voluntary attention, the will is evidently
at work. Voluntary attention means attention directed by the
will ; that is, attention which has an end before it, and which
controls all the processes and ideas so as to lead up to this end.
Study requires that there be control, physical and prudential,
and generally, in many pupils, sometimes in all pupils, moral
control Without the aid and support of will, the obtaining of
knowledge is a practical impossibility. Knowledge is also
dependent upon feeling. Interest is a condition of attention,
non-voluntary as well as voluntary. The mind may know, after
a fashion, what does not arouse emotion, but it is a superficial

SUMMARY or PRINCIPLES.

«7f

iring
rcep-
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and counterfeit knowledge. To realiu the meaning of any-
thing, to be acquainted with it, means to see it in its bearings
upon the feelings. The internal appropriation and assimila-
tion of presentations require not only that they be joined to
older groups of ideas, but that they be transformed into inter-
ests and personal emotion : that they be known by the heart
as well as by the head.

Dependence of Feeling. — When discussing feeling we called
attention to two facts : one that feeling is an accompaniment of
activity^ the other that the various kinds of emotion, intellectual,
aesthetic and personal, depend upon the kinds of objects or
ideas about which feelings gather — that the distinction between
them is not so much in difference in them as feelingi^ as in that
about which they cluster. These two facts mean, in substance,
that feeling is dependent upon will and upon knowledge, using
will in a broad sense to include all psychical activity, and
knowledge as the presentation of all sorts of objects and ideas.
The education of perception and of thought, the training of
attention and association must develop the intellectual emo-
tions ; the growth of imagination must bring about a develop-
ment of the aesthetic feelings. Growth in personality, in re-
cognition of other persons, in the recognition itad practice of
duty, carries along with it growth of the personal and moral
feelings. The religious emotions are not susceptible of culture
apart from their relation on the one hand to ideas^ and on the
other hand, to conducts Indeed, it may be laid down as a general
principle that emotions may be cultivated and even permitted to ex-
ist only as motives to action and as the internal accompaniments
of ideas. Feeling of any kind that does not arise from internal
acquaintance with ideas, from becoming at home with them,
and which does not induce to action, results in unhealthy and
morbid sentiment

Dependence of Will. — ^Will involves, as its two essential com-
ponents, idea and desirt^ one intellectual, the other emotional.

\ 1
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180

SUMMARY OF PRINCIPLES.

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Without the desire, the side of feeling, action is slow and inert,
having no stimulus. Without the idea, the side of knowledge,
action is blind, unregulated, capricious. Every growth of
feeling should result in strengthening some motive to action
and in making action more energetic ; every growth of know-
ledge should widen action by giving it a broader end or ideal,
and should make it more deliberate and reflective. The
powers of will are trained both in the acts by which knowledge
is acquired and by the resulting acquisition of knowledge.
Learning must be based, if we go back to its ultimate founda-
tion, upon some impulse ; and, as learning advances, this im-
pulse is controlled by being brought into connection with ideas,
and by being subjected to desire and choice. The process of
learning is a volitional one from beginning to end, and as the
facts of will are exercised, will must be trained. The knowledge
acquired makes a basis for new activities of will ; it reveals new
possibilities, and gives new laws by which to control conduct.

Education of Feeling and of IViil. — It is evident from what
has been said that the objection sometimes brought against
present systems of education that they are purely intellectual,
is aside the mark. Any system that really trains intelligence
must train the emotions and the will. But unless the present
system is perfect, it is evident that there must be a possibility
of better training of feeling and volition than that we now have ;
and, furthermore, that this training will give a better training
of intellect than that now secured. But this will not involve
any departure from the precepts already laid down. So far as
present methods are what they should be, even as training the
intellect, they rest upon the normal interests and ifnpulses of
childhood, and train these by subjecting them to association
and attention, analysis and synthesis, thus necessitating emo-
tional and volitional training as well as intellectual. Further
refonns will discover more fully what the normal interests and
impulses are, and will find better methods for calling out, ex-

SUMMARY OP PRINCIPLES.

l8l

crcising and developing the impulses, better methods for cul
turing and satisfying the interests. In a word, education is
primarily of the whole personality, and only secondarily of the
intellect, the feelings, or the will*

Oriticism of Maxims. — Having discovered the princi-
ples that lie at the basis of all educational maxims, we may
discuss briefly some of the current precepts.

I. T/ie Intellect is a Sum of Different Faculties, each of which
Requires its own Kind of Culture. — This principle, while not
always, or even often, distinctly formulated, is assumed as
the basis of much pedagogical discussion. It violates the
true principle that intelligence has two fundamental functions
or powers, analysis and synth(;.sis, both of which are forms o^
relating activity. All faculties must, therefore, be stages in
the development of these functions, and hence, must be
trained to some degree by the same kinds of culture. (Pages
84 and 90.) Methods, for example, which attempt to train
language apart from thinking, or either language or thinking
apart from memory and perception, or which train perception
without reference to the relations of thought implied in the
perceptions, are inefficient, because opposed to psychological
facts.

a. First Form Faculty, then Furnish It. — This maxim is sus-
ceptible of an interpretation which makes it substantially correct,
but in any case it would be better stated thus : Form faadty by
furnishing it. The principle is correct in implying that the
organization and training of mental power is a more import-
ant end of education than the acquisition of a certain number
of facts. It is incorrect, so far as it seems to im|)ly that
faculty can be formed apart from the activity of the mind
in acquiring knowledge, and apart from the reaction of
knowledge upon the mind. " For organizing mental faculty

•See Chap, vi., Training of IJesires, Impulses, Character. See also
Part II, Chapter on Religious and Moral Culture.

li r

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i8s

SUMMARY OP PRINCIPLES.

there is no other means than organized knowledge." Mental
power and knowledge are not to be opposed, or even separ-
ated, for they are correlative. (See page 70).

3. Learn to do by Doing. — This precept has already been
discussed. (See pages 45 and 129). The principle is true,
in so far as it recognizes the fact that the self-activity of the
pupil must be appealed to in all learning^ and that it is
through this activity that the subject gains meaning, and is
apprehended. The principle becomes false when it loses
sight of the ideal facto*, the element of knowledge required
for doing ; and when it implies that the doing should be merely
habitual or mechanical. It, therefore, requires a supplement :
Learn to do by knowing. We might combine the maxims, and
say : Learn to know by doings and to do by knowing.

4. Proceed from the Known to the Unknown. — This maxim,
as requiring the teacher to make what is familiar the basis
of identifying or acquiring what is unfamiliar, is in line with
correct psychology. Some educators have opposed the prin-
ciple, by saying that since all learning involves a new element,
and this new element transforms what was previously unfamiliar
or vague into the familiar and definite, instruction really ad-
vances from the unknown to the known. But the words are
not used in the same sense in the two maxims. The maxim,
♦' proceed from the known to the unknown," means utilize old
knowledge in acquiring new;" while the maxim, '* from the
unknown to the known," certainly does not mean " make the
unknown the basis of acquiring the known." It means that
it is through the presentation of the unknown that what
was previously known is enlarged and strengthened, or that
the presentation of the unfamiliar is necessary to the deve-
lopment of the familiar. From the known to the unknown
correspopds to apperception. From the unknown to the known
to rtUntiam, That is, one expresses the action of the mind

SUMMARY OF PRINCIPLES.

183

upon the presentation ; the other, the effect which the pre-
sentation has upon the mind.

5. Proceed from the Concrete to the Abstract, — This precept
also has been already referred to. (Page 80). Taken literally
it is impossible, for there is no concrete knowledge with
which to begin. Nor is it true as implying that definite know-
ledge is easier to get than general knowledge. It is just as
difficult, requires as much preparation, as much mental energy,
and as much maturity of mind, to make a clear distinction as to
make broad generalization. Both processes, in fact, occur
together as different aspects of comparison. To transform
knowledge from hazy into definite, and from isolated into con-
nected forms, are both ends of instruction, and the educator
cannot safely assume that either process has been already ac-
complished before his work begins. Undoubtedly many who
use the precept have a correct meaning back of it, but this
meaning would be better expressed : Develop representations
from presentations.

6. There are two maxims apparently wholly opposed to each
other, often seen in educational works : " Follow the order of na-
ture^ not the order of the subject, first synthesis and then analysis^'
and ^* Proceed from the whole to the part." Regarding the first prin-
ciple one author writes : " If in language, o." in grammar we begin
with grammar and pass to its divisions, learn of what each treats,
take up parts of speech, and the properties of each, etc, we teach
by analysis. If we begin with words, learn that they are of differ-
ent kinds, as names, action-words, quality- words, etc., then learn
their properties, and pass gradually up to the subject, grammar,
we teach by synthesis. It is evident that the synthetic method
is the method of nature, while the analytic is the logical order of
the subject." But, what is really " evident " is that the method
here termed synthetic is just as much analytic as synthetic. It
is synthetic, because it begins with what is most familiar to the
child, and advances to that more remote from his present at-

1 84

SUMMARY or PRINCIPLES.

tainments ; it is analytic because it begins with the vague out-
line-knowledge of words the child has, and fixes his attention
upon differences of function and value, hitherto unnoticed, in
words (by which some are nouns, others verbs, etc.) and thus
defines his knowledge. Thus we get another illustration of the
fact that the two methods cannot be separated. The other
precept, " from the whole to the part," is correct, if it be clearly
borne in mind that the * whole ' does not refer to the objective
whole, that is, the whole as it exists apart from the child's
knowledge, but to the vague outline existing in his mind, the
subjective whole. Instruction must begin with this and draw out
and emphasize some one aspect, or relation of it, thus clearing
up knowledge. The two principles, that of " whole to part,"
and " first synthesis then analysis," while opposed to each other
if wrongly interpreted, supplement each other if each be under-
stood as it should be.

7. Teach Only What is Understood. — The maxim, in its
true meaning is identical with the precept already laid down.
Make instruction significant. It must be remembered that a
great many thmgs are both interesting and significant to a
child that are not so to an adult — for example, the forms of
letters and of words, the sounds of speech simply as sounds, etc.

8. " Teach Ideas before Wotds^^ or as some give it,
^^ Teach things not names." In its latter form the precept is,
taken literally, meaningless. Things cannot be taught till
they have been transformed into meaning and ideas. And
language is one of the chief means of transformation. In the
other form the maxim is valuable as a protest against a
merely verbal instruction, which makes children glib reciters of
rules, definitions and textual statements, and even expert per-
formers of arithmetical opeialions, or of grammatical analys'-
and yet leaves them with no recognition of the meaning of the
subjects. But the maxim, so far as it seems to underrate the

SUMMARY OF PRINCIPLES.

i8S

value of language in aiding knowledge of objects, is, as already
noticed (page io8), wholly erroneous. We may notice a few
reasons. First, consciousness which is wholly presentative, that
is, which does not contain a symbolic or representative factor, is
meaningless. (See page 74). Language is the simplest, easiest
and most efficient way, upon the whole, of introducing this
representative factor into the mind. What it means can be
seen by comparing the knowledge of deaf mutes with that of
speaking people ; and by calling to mind that the first step in
educating deaf-mutes is to give them some form of language.

Secondly, words make knowledge of objects both general and
definite. They make it general by fixing attention upon the
class-qualities, upon the generic properties of the object. They
make it definite by seizing upon some quality of the object and
making that a handle, as it were, by which the object may
always be grasped. The mind is always restless till it knows
the name of an object ; if there is no recognized name, one is
given as soon as possible. This is not only for the convenience
of communication, but for the purpose of defining the object
to one's selfi It fixes the object, singles it cut of the mass of
surrounding and similar objects, and gives it an individuality of
its own. The development of language in the race and in the
child, shows clearly that names, at first, simply express the most
salient or prominent quality of the object. Indeed, to a baby,
the name is the most definite quality the object possesses; he
repeats the name every time he sees the object, not to call the
attention of others to it, but to r^-call the object to his own
mind ; in other words, to define it. That animals do not have
language is as much because their knowledge is vague as
because ii is not generalized.

Thirdly, names are condensations, concentrations of past
knowledge. They introduce the immature mind at once into
a fullness and richness of knowledge which it would take the

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i86

SUMMARY OP PRINCIPLES.

A; ji

■4-1

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child years to learn for himself; which indeed he would never
learn. It is a common-place to say that a school-child of to-
day may have more astronomical knowledge than Sir Isaac
Newton had. The reason is found in language. Words sum
up and condense into themselves the science and civilization of
the race. A right use of language in teaching, therefore, is
necessary to lift the child from his individual isolation and
put him, as regards knowledge of things, upon the plane of his
race. Much could be said of the necessity of language as an
instrument of general culture, but the three reasons given are
confined to the one point of the relation of names to the know-
ledge of objects.

9. " Let Education follow Nature^ — This precept is so vague
that it might be dismissed at once. But in spite 01 its vague-
ness it is sometimes employed so as to do much harm. Its only
true meaning is that educational methods should rest upon psy-
chical processes normal to the child's mind, and should stimu-
late and train them. It is sometimes perverted to mean that
there is some force called Nature which will carry on education
of itself, and which should not be interfered with by educators ;
or, that Nature lays down laws so clearly that the educator
need not have special knowledge or art of his own ; or that
Nature provides models so distinct that no one can err in fol-
lowing them, and so perfect that the teacher cannot improve
upon them. All this is either mythology robing itself in the
garb of science, or it is a vague way of covering up ignorance
with the pretence of knowledge. The teacher must, indeed
know the nature of his pupil He must, like the Great
Teacher, kt -iw what is in man m order that he may educate
him for manhood, but, unlike the Great Teacher, he has need
of definite study to find out what man is — ^what he is in actu-
ality and in possibility.

METHOD OF INTERROGATION.

187

if-

' CHAPTER TX.

THE METHOD OF INTERROGATION : ART OF QUESTIONING.

General Method. — We have seen (page 167, «/ sr^) that
special methods of instruction rest upon Analysis and Synthesis,
and that the Analytic and Synthetic Methods in education are
not independent but complementary, being in fact but diflferent
aspects of the one psychological method which must be followed
in all normal instruction. Without perplexing the student,
therefore, with a minute classification of methods, it is only
necessary to state that we may appeal to the Analytic and
Synthetic functions of mind chiefly in two ways, viz. : by direct,
continuous Exposition (the Expository Method) ; or by Interro-
gation (the Socratic Method) ; i. e., we may by Questioning,
with occasional expositions or suggestions, direct the learner in
the processes of /Recognition and Discovery (page 172). The
method of Questioning is of most value in primary and inter-
mediate education, and that method we shall now study.

Of all the qualifications that go to make the successful
teacher, ability to question well is probably the most important.
The prime object of teaching is to get the learner to think for
himself. This means that his mind is in the proper attitude
and that the material for thought is properly presented. These
conditions secure a vital, organic relation between the prepared
mind and the presented material, that is, the material really
enters into the structure of knowledge, and its acquisition
•nlarges the structure of mind.

Importance of the Art. — To secure these conditions
a\id to test the value of the results, judicious questioning is the
su'est means. It may be said, indeed, that the Art of Ques-
tioning is the Art of Teaching. Whoever can question well can

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METHOD OF INTERROGATION.

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teach well ; whoever fails in this point fails in all. Natural en-
dowments, accurate scholarship, professional knowledge and
experience, are required for excellence in this method of instruc-
tion. Valuable as the method is, no great prominence has
hitherto been given to its study in institutions for the training
of teachers. It seems to have been taken for granted that if a
teacher knows a subject well he can question ui)on it well; an
outgrowth, or perhaps a modified form, of the long prevalent
error that knowledge of a subject is identical with ability to
teach it. The fallacy of this assumption is now generally recog-
nised. Learning, energy, enthusiasm, knowledge of the theory
and practice of teaching, will prove comjuratively ineffective
without this Socratic qualification, ability to question well, the
rarest of attainments, the Master Art of the teacher's calling.

Principles and Practice. — Skill in the art of question-
ing is to be acquired as skill in any other art is acquired, by
long and patient practice ; one learns to do by doing ; one
learns to question by questioning. But, in accordance with what
has been established in our psychology, here, as everywhere, the
co-ordinate maxim has its place : By knowing, learn to do.
Mere practice does not make experience in the true sense of the
word ; it must be intelligent practice. Rules of art are derived
from principles of science, and unless the " doer " has a clear
knowledge of rules and of their underlying principles, he is not
likely to acquire artistic skill in their practical application. It
is a common mistake to assume that mere lapse of time, as it
were, results in experience. On the contrary, there is many a
" practical " man — so far as time spent in " doing " is con-
cerned — that is thoroughly unpractical, and many an '* experi-
cnrr ' "" one quite without experience. An experience which is
,r t!i. :t.]ait of sound principles and their wise application,
„p "--s si-'eciai powers and tendencies to work in the wrong direc-
*)on, ^ ih'u facility for leaving undone the things that ought to
be done, and doing the things that ought not to be done.

METHOD OF INTERROGATION.

189

It is not an uncommon thing to hear a teacher boasting of
his long experience, and even claiming special privileges on
account of it, who in his actual school work violates almost
every principle of scientific method, and who, in consequence
of his "experience," is beyond hope of improvement. It may
be well, then, to indicate the principles on which the art of
questioning rests, and since method in teaching is little more
than method in questioning, to discuss as fully as may be, such
practical applications as may help the young teacher to begin
right, to continue right, and so, with the least possible waste of
time and power, to attain that true experience which comes from
righf (ioittg guided by right knoiving

Division of the Subject.— It has already been suggested
that teaching. and learning are based on the two fundamental pro-
cesses, Apperception — the process of taking anything into the
mind ; and Retention — the effect which the material when appre-
hended, has upon the mind itself. These two processes are, as
we have seen, mutually dependent ; there can be no retention
without clear apprehension ; and, on the other hand, every
new apprehension modifies mind, and so has its effect in inter-
preting new experiences. The teacher should, therefore, bear in
mind that the two conditions of learning are, on the one hand,
proper presentation of material^ and on the other hand, proper
preparation of mind. In the light of this principle, we may con-
sider (I) The Objects of Questioning, or what may be accom-
plished by it ; (II) The Qualifications of the Questioner; (III)
The Form and Matter of Questions; (IV) The Form and
Matter of Answers. If the first topic is fully discussed, it is
evident that the principles of the other three may be easily
deduced. Since the two processes, apperception and reten-
tion, are reciprocal, the one necessarily implying the other, it
is not easy to classify the objects of questioning as belonging
definitely to one process rather than to the other. But it will
be convenient to classify them roughly under these heads, ie.

v.,

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METHOD OF INTERROGATION.

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II :

we shall consider the Objects, or Purposes, of Questioning as
(a) concerned with M* Presentation of Material^ or with the
Testing of Retention ; (b) as concerned with the Preparation of
Mindy or the Training of Apperception,

I. Objects, or Purposes of Questioning.

Testing Retention. — Under (a) we may consider the follow-
ing important purposes : i. To Discuss Actual Knowledge ;
2. To Fix Actual Knowledge ; 3. To Extend, or Enlarge Ac-
tual Knowledge — the vague made definite, the imperfect made
accurate, new knowledge imparted ; and 4. To Cultivate Power
of Expression, and thus aid both these fundamental Processes ;
this of course, belongs equally to subdivision, (b).

Training Apperception. — Under (b) may be considered the
following purposes : i. To Excite Interest ; i. To Arouse
Attention : 3. To Direct Attention ; 4. To Cultivate Habit of
Self- Direction of Attention, i>.. Habit of Self-Questioning.

(a) Testing Retention : Presentation of Material

I. To Discover the Pupil's Knowledge. — ^This is one of the
first requisites in preparing to givfe a new lesson. For the new
lesson must have some logical connection with what was
previously taught ; it can be interpreted only by what has been
retained from former lessons, and so it b impossible effectively
to aid the learner to assimilate the new with the old, unless we
know what the old is and how it stands in the learner's mind.
If this is not known we may waste time in two ways.

Presenting too Easy Stimulus.— (See page iii.)— In
the first place : We may dwell upon what is already perfectly
known to the learner, and thus, by monotonous repetition of
what has lost all charm of novelty, quench rather than excite
interest. The tendency of certain modem methods is strongly
in this direction. Ingenious minds have long been in travail
to discover a royal road to learning ; they have at last dis-

J"'

;(|!

METHOD OF INTERROGATION.

191

covered it by the simple expedient of removing difficulties in-
stead of developing strength to conquer them. It appears to
be thought that the teacher can take the place of the learner
by properly preparing the material, that is by atomizing know-
ledge, the mental aliment, and administering it in homoeo-
pathic doses to the recipient mind. Or, if it is admitted that
the child must himself climb the arduous ladder that leads to
the high plane of capacity and skill, the ladder, it is thought,
can be freed from all its arduousness by indefinitely diminishing
the distance between the rounds. If anyone thinks this is too
strongly put, let him open almost any educational journal or
recent educational work, and he will find abundant proof of the
prevalence of the theory : " develop strength by making things
easy." Witness the infinitesimal doses prescribed in " model "
number lessons, language lessons, etc. Witness the " mob " of
questions that the young teacher is recommended to ask on
three or four lines of a common reading lesson, a mere scrap
which can never enter into organized knowledge nor have any
effect in organizing faculty. Witness the trivial "develop-
ment " questions recommended for the evolution of ideas which
are already in the child's mind, if he has a minimum of brain-
power, as clearly as they can be there, in his presumed stage of
mental growth.

Questions should Stimulate.— Is it necessary, is it
good method, to give forty or fifty pages of questions on the
numbers from one to five? Are from 100 to 300 questions
required for reasonable practice on the number two ? as e.g.^
How many thumbs on the right hand ? How many on the left ?
How many on both hands ? John had one apple and his sister
gave him another, how many had he then ? Two birds are
sitting on a tree, if one bird flies away how many will be left ?
How many eyes has Willie ? If he shuts one how many will
remain open? And so on, if not cid infinitum, certainly ad

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mmm

192

METHOD OF INTERROGATION.

nauseam, in the case of every child with a modicum of brains.
Such questioning at last loses all power to stimulate^ and the
answers become simply an exercise in " dead vocables." Merely
verbal repetition cannot strengthen intelligence, and so drill —
the mighty instrument of little men —may be carried to a point
where it is not only useless, but positively pernicious.

In primary schools, perhaps in all schools, incalculable time
is wasted in a wearisome monotony of drills, tending to form
merely sensuous associations, and continued long after such
associations have been actually formed. Let the teaclier be on
his guard against the atomic method in questioning — a cut-
feed method which may be, presumably, suited to the capacity
of the " missing link," but is a positive hindrance to an intel-
ligent child.

It IS safe to assume that where there is a healthy brain there
is mind ; where there is mind there is capacity for attention,
for self-active direction of normal power, and that this self-
activity of mind works with effect, because it works with interest
when operating upon material that challenges effort. There is
little doubt that many a child loses interest in the inane things
presented as mental pabulum, and is pronounced " dull " when
he is only disgusted and " inattentive " when he is but attentive
to his own more interesting trains of ideas. The conclusion of
the matter is : do not waste time and mental force in asking too
many questions of the past — questions which are below the
child's actual capacity and attainments, which begin, continue,
and end in the " concrete," which destroy interest, and hence
disqualify the mind rather than prepare it, for the reception and
elaboration of new material.

Teaching too Difficult Matter. — In the second place :

The teacher must discover the child's knowledge in order to
avoid the other extreme — the presentation of material, which is
beyond the child's power to assimilate. This error, is in

■(!l: ■:!;

METHOD OF INTERROGATION.

193

Canadian Schools, more common than that described in the fore-
going paragr.i|)h, and is perhaps equally harmful. Learning is
a process of interpretation, that is, the knowledge acquired yes-
terday must be used to interpret what is presented to-day.
There is learning, therefore, only when there is bringing to bear
past experiences upon the new material. If this material is
** above the learner's head," how is it possible that there can be
assimilation ? If A, B, C are related ideas in a certain topic, and
the learner is in possession of A but n(;t of B, it is worse than
useless to present C to him ; his mind cannot be brought into
relation with C. There may be clear arrangement, fluent ex-
position, and apposite illustration, and yet on the part of the
learner there is neither knowledge-growth nor mind-growth ;
and the teacher is left to wonder how so " excellent a lesson "
should be to the pupil words and nothing more. Even good
teachers are prone to this error of asking questions of the
future. A teacher of. zeal and energy is anxious for the pro-
gress of his pupils ; he is tempted to forget that there is no
possibility of forcing progress — which is a thing of growth re-
sulting only from the self-activity of the mental organism — he
gives a long but lucid lesson ; he has not time to test fully on
retention, but finding that part of the lesson seems to have
been fairly taken in, he hastily concludes that all has been
appropriated, and so, when he proceeds to give a new lesson
logically depending on the last, he finds, after much waste of
energy and much discouragement to the learner, that he has
been vainly appealing to groups of ideas and to a power of
comprehension that as yet do not exist.

True Assimilation — It must never be forgotten that the
apprehension — the interpretation — of the new matter must
occur through what the mind has already within itself ; that is
to say, the interpretation, the true assimilation, occurs not
merely through certain ideas or groups of ideas held in the
mind, Vut through an increased mental power — capacity in a

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194

METHOD or INTERROGATION.

given direction, developed in acquiring such ideas. If, for
example, a young pupil has mastered tliu number five, he is
not only in possession of certain ideas concerning the number
(such as 4 and i are 5, 5 less i is 4, etc), but in getting these
ideas his mind has acquired increased capacity for grasping
number-relations in general. Thus, also, if a teacher attempts
to teach the number 7 before the pupil lias a clear apprehen-
sion of the number 6, he is not only appealing to ideas not yet
in the child's mind — for 6 is a thought in 7— but he is as-
suming a higher power of grasping relations than the child has
yet acquired.

What Is Known and How.— It is clear, therefore,
that before beginning a new lesson the teacher must find out
exactly what the child knows, and ho7v he knows it, i>., how
he has acquired it ; whether by mere sensuous association
(verbal memory) — in which case the ideas are held mechani-
cally in the mind and have no interpreting power — or by true
assimilation, in which case not only are the ideas there, but
also the capacity to use them. Yet, it is to be feared, that with
the majority of teachers, the object of questioning is to test
what the child knows, rather than how he knows it ; that is, the
questions are a test of what is held median ically in the mind,
but not a test of power developed. The tlioughtful teacher pro-
poses to act on the maxim : " From the Known to the related
Unknown." What course does he pursue ? He endeavors
to see clearly the logical connection of the new lesson with what
is already in the learner's mind ; he carefully analyzes it and
notes the relations of the several parts so as to present the new
material properly arranged; he tests the "known" in the
learner's mind, and the power developed in acquiring it ; he
stimulates this power, and brightens up and brings to the
front the ideas involved in the known ; he leads tlie pupil to
create for himself the relations between the new and the old
Thus there is real assimilation \ there are both apperception

METHOD or INTERKOOATION.

«95

and retention ; there is growtli in organized power and in organ-
ized knowledge. In such instruction there is pleasure to the
teacher from the conscious success in waking up mind, and
pleasure to the learner from the conscious increase in appcr-
ceiving power.

2. To Fix Kti07vled'^e : Retention by Repetition. — The law
of Retention is fundamental in all education ; it operates
in the acquiring of any kind of manual dexterity, in forming
labour-saving mental and physical lubils, as v/ell as in the
higher forms of psychical development. It is the foundation of
the Law of Repetition which is so important in the primary
stage of education, and so useful in all stages. For example :
A child, in imitation of his teaclier, tentatively produces a certain
articulate sound; the approximately correct utleranee makes
clearer the idea of the sound; liecjuent repetition gives the power
to make the sound at ivill ; on slil. further repetition there re-
sults ability to produce the sound without effort, />., without the
conscious intervention of the will. Tiiis illustration is typical
of what takes place in all forms of physical and mental growth ;
it shows how "doing" helps knncingy how "knowing" helps
doin^i^, and how both aid Retention, the process by which the ma-
terial of instruction is wrought over into powers and capacities,
tendencies and tast s.

Mental Activity to be Repeated.— The teacher should

note that it is mental activity in the act of apprehension that is to
be repeated, rather than the impression on the mind, which may
be due to merely sensuous association, or rote learning. Even
in what we have termed the mechanical stage, discij)line is
to be the aim, that is, there is to be suitable appeal to the
opening intelligence. The law is, in brief, not iin[)ression
and repetition of impression, but rather Self-activity and
Repetition of Self-activity. Self-activity is to be awakened
and guided chiefly by the method of Interrogation. The
teacher makes a preparatory analysis of the subject ; he pre-

■n

196

METHOD OF INTERROGATION.

iil'

■

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sents the results of this analysis point by point; by skilful
questioning he guides the mind of the pupil in disct itninating
i.e.y in working analytically ; he guides it in identifying^ />.,
in working synthetically ; he continues this method of educa-
tion until an analytic (and synthetic) habit of mind is formed,
and the pupil no longer needs the preparatory analysis and
synthesis which it is the business of the teacher to supply.

lr\ perception^ the stage of intellectual development nearest
to sensation, the child is to be guided in the formation of clear
and adequate percepts of the objects presented ; the presenta-
tion and, therefore, the rtf-preseriation, becomes clearer with
each repetition, and the dim and vague mental outline with
which the child started, grows into clear and definite idea. So,
if a pupil has been led to apprehend the relation of certain facts,
and to think this relation again and again, the process fixes the
thought in the mind, and gives increased power to deal with all
similar relations. Similarly with all forms of reasoning, or dis-
course. A pupil has difficulty with an abstract argument, say
the solution of a problem ; he is aided by judicious questioning
to comprehend the logical connection of the several steps in
the solution ; he repeats the reasoning for himself, re-thinks
the relations — and at last, not only is the reasoned truth per-
manently retained, but there is also the beginning of a habit of
logical reasoning.

Illustration. — By means of objects, a child forms a first
intuition of the number five ; one presentation will not suffice,
even if the objects are so arranged as to facilitate the mental
act. Herein, it may be observed, lies the source of many a sad
mistake. A teacher knows that there must be "objective
teaching " in giving first lessons in numbers, but falls into the
common error of assuming that because there are concrete things
before the child there is concrete knowledge in the child's mind \
he forgets that the first idea is vague, indefinite ; that the mind

M 'THOD OF INTERROGATION.

197

must act on the material, and frequently repeat the act ^ that
the child must be made to thitik from the vague to the well-de-
fined — the ' concrete ; ' and, that the mental processes ought to
be aided by proper presentation of objects. For CAdrnple, in
teaching the number five, we do not begin with five dissimilar
and unarranged objects ; this would be to commit two blun-
ders. We begin with similar objects, symmetrically arranged,

as thus : •*•

• *• *■

But even with this symmetrical number-form, one presenta-
tion is not enough. On the basis of the several familiar forms,
which the child has already learned, he must be questioned
through dear perceptions into clear conceptions. Every presen-
tation becomes clearer until there results a definite idea of the
number five, through a conscious recognition of its relations to
the lower numbers. Thus, in the foregoing number-form,
the relations 5 = 4+1, 5-1= 4, — <>.| by questioning, 5=4
+ ?, 5 - 1 = ? — can be presented in five different (though
related) ways. It seems plain that if the child, is led by clear
intuitions to think the relations as presented in these number-
forms, the " mental experiences " will blend into a lasting con-
ception of the number. Similarly, from the same number-form
can be presented various intuitions of the relations 5 = 3 + 2,
5-3 = 2, i.e., by questioning, 5 = 3+?, 5-3 = ?; S = a+3.
5 = 2 + ?, etc., etc (See chap, on teaching arithmetic).

Again : A boy will not at first clearly apprehend so simple
a proposition as *' Things which are equal to the same thing
are equal to one another," much less will he draw the right con-
elusion from its application in a given case ; as e.g., the line
AB is equal to the line CD, the line EF is also equal to CD,
therefore, the lines are all equal to one another: which is not the
immediate inference. From the conditions of a given arith-
metical problem a pupil may discover the relations :
The selling price = \\ of cost price.
The selling price t^ of cost price + $30

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■?■ .,r,
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198

METHOD OF INTERROGATION.

And yet fail to see that the application of this axiom will at
once give the answer. The pupil must be plied with many con-
crete examples, and he will have to be questioned and cross-ques-
tioned upon the principle and its applications, until he has ac-
quired a clear apprehension of it, a working conception, which
he can readily bring to bear in all cases in which it applies.

Once more ; when a child has fairly learned the number six,
he will not, at first, solve off hand such a question as : If 2 apples
cost 4 cents what will 3 apples cost ? Much less will he be able
to compreiiend its solution by the " Rule of Three," since the
general idea of ratio and the complex idea of the equality of
ratios, are quite beyond his grasp. But he can be led to solve the
problem by taking its two steps, one at a time. By clear intui-
tions, he can be led first to perceive^ and then to conceive that if
2 apples cost 4 cents, one apple will cost 2 cents ; and then by
similar means, to see that if one apple cost 2 cents, 3 apples will
cost 6 cents : As, tg.

Apple • I • • cents

Apple • ! • • cents

therefore one apple costs 2 cents ; etc. Thus forming cleai
perceptions from a few examples, he will quickly rise to a con-
ception of such relations, and soon be able to solve similar
problems without the aid of visible objects.

Relating Facts. — Not only is questioning the sure test of
how the child's mind is dealing with the material, it is, as has
been suggested, the best way to guide him in relating the facts.
Though it is chiefly the mechanical aspect of association that
comes into play in the primary stage of instruction, the main
object, even here, is mental discipline, and, therefore a rational
spirit must pervade the teaching. There can be, of course, no
severe demand made upon rational comprehension, because this
is only in the beginning of its development ; bnt facts can be pre-
sented in their proper relations— things can be associated by

METHOD OF INTERROGATION.

199

the law of similiarity. It is by the teacher's preparatory ana-
lysis of the subject and by his judicious questioning, that the
child is brouj^ht to think implicitly^ facts in their relations. He
does not grasp explicitly the underlying unity of the facts ; but
to some extent, related facts explain themselves (p. 83) ; and if
this rationality of facts has been carefully kept in mind by the
teacher during his Socratic lesson, there will be retention of the
facts in their relations, unconscious appropriation of their
rationality, which in good time will grow into conscious recogni-
tion of their logical connection.

Illustration. — If, for example, the facts of six have been
presented in clear intuitions J J J there will be a gradual, but
sure growth of clear perceptions into a conscious thinking
of the relations between i and 6, 2 and 6, etc; 6 is 6 times i, i
is one-sixth of 6 ; 6 is three tiiius 2 ; 2 is one-third of 6, etc.
Having learned thus much, he passes, easily (first by intuition,
of course) to the new facts : 64-2 = 8 = 4 times 2, a is one-
fourth of 8, and so on, to 5 times 2, 6 times 2, etc. So, too, 6
r= two times 3 ; 9 = 6 + 3^ tJiree times 3,3 = one-third of 9,
and so on. That is, from the riglit presentation of objects,
the child forms clear perceptions wliich almost unconsciously
grow into a firm grasp of the relations of numbers in the Multi-
plication Table ; and thus, learning how to construct the table
for himself, he is not left to memorize it by merely mechan-
ical associations. There must be repetition, of course; the
table must be so thoroughly memorized that any pair of factors
instantly suggests the right product. But, if there are a few
repetitions of the acts of apprehension by which the several pro-
ducts are formed, the task of mastering the table will be im-
mensely lighter than if left to the S)'mbol-memory alone.

Use and Abuse of Drill. — It is clear from the foregoing
conj:iderations tliat Repetition, Drill, is necessary, for there is and
must be a mechanical side to education. Drill is necessary for

"••^Wi

200

METHOD OF INTERROGATION.

the formation of right habits, for the acquisition of skill in certain
work in the primary stage of instruction, for the accumulation of
the right experiences and the consequent development of mental
and moral power in all stages ; but there is a point at which
drill — repetition, ceases to be of any value for the growth of
knowledge, or skill, or capacity, and becomes positively harm-
ful. Unintelligent repetition cannot strengthen intelligence,
ceaseless questioning on unimportant details, monotonous re-
callings of mere sensuous associations, " thorough grinds " on
what is already well known — destroy interest, which, as we have
seen, is essential to attention, and so induce a habit of mind-
wandering, the greatest foe that the educator has to confront.
In primary schools, perhaps in all grades of schools, incal-
culable time is wasted in a repulsive monotony of drills. Dealing
with the concrete as if the concrete were all in all — as if " from
the concrete to the abstract " means to begin, continue and end
with the concrete, is to ignore the fact that abstract thinking
is the only true thinking, that the concrete is only means to
end, and that so far as it delays the power to grasp the abstract,
it defeats its end, hinders rather than helps psychical develop-
ment.

The re-action against an imperfect method of instruction has
led to the other extreme which is equally imperfect Formerly
children were rarely allowed to begin v/ith the concrete. Now,
the tendency is to keep them from ri ;ing higher than the con-
crete. It is, possibly, owing to this reign of the visible and
tangible that so many teachers are deficient in power of abstrac-
tion and analysis. The trained mind of a trainer of minds
surely ought to be able to see the fallacy in the inference, some
A's are not B^s, thei efore, son:' B's are not A's, v.iihout the
necessity of resorting to a concrete case, as, e.^,, some living
things are not men, therefore, some men are not living things.

More than once we have found the majority of a large class
hesitate to answer the question, IVAat is the A of tht B

METHOD OF INTERROGATION.

to I

whose A is Cf Before answering, most of them had to think
of a particular case, as, e.g., what is the length of a pole whose
length is ten feet ? The power of abstract thinking may be taken
as the measure of iiitellectual det'elopment

It ought perhaps to be mentioned that there is not unfre-
quently, excessive drill through a teacher's ability "to inter-
est his class." But the thing is, not simply are the pupils inter-
ested, but are they interested in the main thought of the lesson ?
When pupils have been drilled on a lesson to the fatigue-point,
or to the monotony-point, the teacher arouses the flagging atten-
tion by introducing an interesting " story," or illustration, in
which the thought of the lesson is supposed to be repeated,
and thus " more drill " secured. But the real interest is in
the illustration and not in the thought it is supposed to illus-
trate. Children have been " drilled/' say on the number two,
ringing changes on one and one? nothini^ and two? two less one?
two less two ? till under the monotonous repetition interest and
attention die out ; but the teacher is for more drill, and so
interesting stories, of which the heroes are two mice, or two
cats, or two dogs, or t^vo elephants, or two deinotheria. Un-
doubtedly there is interest, but it is not in the two ; it is in the
mice, or the cats, or the elephants, or the deinotheria, and so
there is no attention to the thought of the lesson, but amuse-
ment or excitement in the story. That sort of spurious
attention is often seen even in advanced classes. College
students sometimes miss the chief points of a lesson in chem-
istry through the brilliancy and variety of the experiments. It
is possible to talk interestingly to a class without either con-
veying much information or developing much power — ^just as
" A. Ward, the American humorist," interested many an intel-
ligent audience by his lecture on The Babes in the Wood,
while giving but little information about the ** Babes."

Sense of Proportion.— in the right use of drill, there-
fore, the teacher should arrange his questions so as to have

1 ^

' 43

■ "r

aoa

METHOD or INTERROGATION.

and to give due Sensg of Proportion, i>., so as to repeat the
great principles, leading thoughts, rather than subordinate de«
tails. By the majority of teachers this important point is lost
sight of. In questioning, they make no distinction between the
important and the unimportant, between the trivial points and
prominent facts and their relations. Lessons in reading, geo-
graphy, history, are treated as if their value depended on the
number of questiv s that can be asked upon them. The
child is quesrione i and re-questioned and cross-questioned,
drilled and re-drilled to the very extreme of tediousness, some-
times on a lesson that is of little value as a whole, and some-
times on the equallv 'i -.J:nportant details of a lesson in itself of
value. Take the loKrnv'r-j interesting lesson : " The rat sat on
a mat, the cat ran tc t.ie ii:it, the rat ran into the box." What
are we to thi-A of tl :i node! '"on that gives twenty-five or
thirty questions on such if'- ■•'. of the mental condition of
the "six years darling of a pyg!T\y ^j-i-e that is ruthlessly sub-
jected to such an ordeal ? What are we to think of a model
lesson that gives three and a half pages of questions on seven
and a half lines of an ordinary reading lesson? Suppose a
child were to be subjected to such a " drill " on every fairy tale
he reads, or every interesting story or biography, how long
before fairy tale and story would become an utter abomination
to him ? Consider how a history lesson is ordinarily given ;
note the infinitude of questions asked upon it, in utter dis-
regard of the due proportion between the essential and the
non-essential. The inevitable result is that interest dies out,
attentiDn flags, and instead of assimilated knowledge and
strengthened faculty, there is left a medley of vague notions
and disconnected fads, whose only end is to be speedily for-
gotten, or to be reproduced in preposterous answers to (per-
haps) equally preposterous examination questions. By such
excessive drill, the teacher makes himself a mere machine, and
turns out mechanisms after his own likeness.

X^^^■

METHOD OF INTERROGATION.

203

ition
Iven ;
dis-
the
out,
and
)tions
|y for-
(per-
such
and

3. To Extend, or Enlarge Knowledge. — By questioninj^,
vague ideas may be made definite, misapprehensions removed,
and new knowledge imparted. It is a common maxim tliat
nothing is to be told the learner that he is able to make out for
himself. What he acquires by the exercise of his own powers
will remain with him in more enlarged or more accurate
knowledge, or at least in increased power of apperception. Of
course, Telling, Explanation, and clear Exposition, are often
needed. For, while it may be true that it is not so much what
goes into a boy as what comes out of him that educates, it is
equally true that nothing can be got out of him unless some-
thing is first put into him. It is almost a common-place that
" Telling is not teaching." The truth of this depends on the
mental attitude of the tauglit, and this again, depends chiefly
on the kind of telling and the spirit and ability of the teller.

Telling; Questioning. — Telling the right thing at the
right time and in the right way, is teaching. Very often time
is worse than wasted in a futile attempt to question out of a
pupil what has never been questioned into him, and what he
cannot by any possibility evolve from his " inner consciousness."
It is one of the best characteristics of a good teacher that he
knows exactly when and what to tell, as well as when and what
to impart or to elicit by questioning. The " telling not teach-
ing" maxim is thoroughly sound as a protest against the method
of continuous lecturing. It is easy to lecture ; it is difficult to
teach ; thus, many instructors are good lecturers but not good
teachers. With clearness of thought and fluency of speech, they
seem to expect that lucid exposition on the part of the teacher
will prove an effective substitute for attention and self-activity on
the part of the pupil. The lecturing method, the pouring in
process, may ha\e its place in the college lecture-room— though
even there a little Socratic questioning now and then seems
desirable — but the melhod is nearly worthless in the primary
and the secondary school. The object lesson, the exposition,

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204

METHOD OF INTERROGATION.

the demonstration, can be interpreted and assimilated only by
what is already within the mind. This assimilating process — it
cannot be too often repeated — is solely the learner's act and can
never be dispensed with by even the most logical arrangement
and lucid exposition on the part of teacher or text-book. But,
as we have seen, the teacher may aid the learner's effort by pres-
enting the new matter in its proper relations, and may lead him
by questioning to see the old knowledge in clearer light, and to
make for himself the mental connection between the new and
the old.

Fa^e made Definite. — It has been said that the first ideas got
by a child — no matter by what process of instruction — are neces-
sarily hazy J his mental growth is from the vague to the definite
by analysis and synthesis, either conscious or unconscious.
And as these mental functions are undeveloped in the young
learner, it is the business of the teacher to guide the learner's
mind into analytic and synthetic working. Thus the vague is
made definite, misapprehensions are corrected, and old know-
ledge is both clarified and enlarged by new growths of material
with which it is rationally connected. If a pupil, by an erro-
neous answer, shows that he has not clearly grasped a thought,
we do not forthwith tell him the correct answer. Guided by a
few thoughtful questions he is made to discover the error and
to think out the correct answer for himself.

Socratic Questioning. — The truth of his wrong answer
assumed, he is led by Socratic questioning to a reductio
ad ahsurdum ; he then re-examines the argument ; he dis-
covers where the fallacy lies, whether in the premises, or in
the conclusion ; he makes the needed corrections; and thus,
as an active co-worker in the process, he is sure to retain
somewhat of real value, both in knowledge and mental dis-
cipline. The teacher must guard against the mistake of think-
ing that because he is using objects in teaching, the child's

METHOD OF INTERROGATION.

205

Ideas cannot be hazy, and that clear talking will suffice. No
matter how well a lesson may be given, no matter how skil-
fully the maxim "from concrete to abstract " may be applied,
the careful teacher well knows that there are some points
which are not clear to the learner ; that, though there is a con-
crete object before the mind there is not concrete knoivledge in the
mind, and he will endeavour, by well prepared and connected
questions, to make the knowledge broader and more definite.

Illustrations. — A pupil may have learned the definition
of a straight line, for example, and repeatc 1 it again and again,
and yet have a very inadequate idea of it. He has been told
that a line has not breadth but ** position only," yet he will re-
tain a lurking suspicion that a thing which he has drawn from
A to B, which he sees before his e^s, which he can blot
out and replace, etc., must have some breadth. Besides, is he
not distinctly told in Euclid I, ix, to describe an equilateral
triangle on the side of DE (a line) " remote from A?" If he
thinks at all, he is somewhat perplexed by this " remote " side.

An examiner testing a class on this proposition and suspecting that some
of the class had but crude ideas of "straight line," " remote side," etc.,
put a few questions ; Has DE, then, two sides ? // has. On which side is
the equilateral triangle to be described ? // is to be described on the side re-
mote from A. If one side of DE is remote from A, what may you say about
the other 'side? It is near or next to A. Then, how much further from
A is the remote %\^Q. than the near side? // depends on the width of the line!
This was the answer of an eager but perfectly sincere member of the class,
•nd two or three others were quite ready to agree with him. It is not im-
probable that scores of pupils who have crossed the " Pons " in triumph,
have very misty notions concerning the meaning and reason of construction
in this proposition.

It is not, then, the mark of a cautious teacher to assume that
even axioms and definitions are on their first presentation, clear
to the minds of beginners. By examination and cross-examina-
tion they are to be guided in thinking till their vague outlines
become clear and adequate conceptions. Many a beginner in

B)»,

f^^

206

METHOD OF INTERROGATION.

geometry has very vague notions of the definitions and axioms
that fall so glibly from his lips. Some have been known to
affirm that when three lines AD, Bl), CD meet in D, only two
angles are formed ; others have stoutly maintained that if the
angle A D B be taken aw.iy, only the line CD will remain. Not
a few imagine for a long time that the base of a triangle is
necessarily the horizontal side, — the side parallel to the bot-
tom of the page — , and are not a little perplexed on finding that
another side (any side) may be the base, as in e.g. the figure
of Kuclid I, vi. A little thoughtful questioning would give
pupils clearer ideas of triangle^ base, vertical angle, " the other
two sides," etc. The teacher cannot be too often reminded that
the object before the mind does not ensure concrete knowledge;
that first ideas are necessarily vague, that objects are used to
aid teacher and pupil in making knowledge concrete.

Further Illustrations. — It may, therefore, be laid down
as a safe rule that all imperfect mental products should be cor-
rected by the pupil himself with a minimum of help from the
teacher. Ideas obscure at first, remain obscure unless
there is a growth into clearness by exercise of the mental
functions by which they were apprehended, and by which they
may be at once extended and defined. A pupil may have been
taught the p irts of speech, and the doctrine of grammatical
equivalency ; he will have to apply his knowledge many times
before he apprehends it in its fullness. He must himself cor-
rect his imperfect thinkings on a given topic till he reaches
perfect thought. Take the sentence '* The charge is too trifling
to be confuted, and deserves to be mentioned only that it may
be despised : "

A pupil may have had a good deal of drilling on the parts of
speech, and yet fail to see the force of " only " in this sentence.
He will probably parse it as an " adverb " modifying men-
tioned, because that is the nearest verlx He should be led by
questioning to correct his thinking till he reaches the truth :

'■•

METHOD or INTERKOOATION.

J07

its of
jnce.
imen-
Idby

What is only ? It is an adverb moiifying mentioned. What does only
mean? // means this one thing and nothing more. I^ut doia the speaker
mean that the charj;e deserves to be only mentioned, 1'./., that the bare men-
tion of it would lead to its beiii<j despise<l ? No, that is not the nuanim^.
If that were the meaning where should only be placed ? // should be plat til
bfoit the verb mentiontd. Well, what is only 1 It is an adverb modifying
despised. Is the meaning, then, that the charge should be despised and
nothing more? Thatxi not the meaning. Omitting only, what hare we ?
The charge deserves to be merJioned that it may be despised. Does the charge
deserve to be mentioned ? // does. For what reason, or purpose ? That it
may he despised. Is there any other reason ? There is no other reason.
How do you learn that ? From the word ^* only,*' Then what is the part
of only in the sentence ? It affects the meaning o/the clause, ** That it may
be despised."

Again, a pupil is asked to parse but in the line : " Tlie
paths of glory lead but to the grave." Reflecting for a moment,
he concludes that but here is equivalant to only, and is probably
an adverb, that adverbs modify verbi, and but, therefore,
modifies the verb lead. Now, the careless teacher will pro-
nounce the answer wrong, give the correction, and pass on
without further concern, and his " teaching," for any lasting
effect it can have on the minds of the learners, might as well be
addressed to the idle winds. But a few questions will enable
the pupil to correct his own errors, and not only does he firmly
hold what he has thought out for himself, he has also increased
mental power in the act of thinking.

For example : " Hut means only, and is an adverb modifying /«!</."
Well, what does only mean? It means this one thing, and no other. Does
the poet mean, then, that the paths lead and ordy, that is, do nothing
more than lead to the grave? That is not his meaning. Well, leave
out but, and what results. The paths .... lead whither f The paths
oj ^ory lead to the grave. Consider whether there is any other term-
ination ? There is no other destination. How do you gather this from the
line? We gather it from the word ** but,'' Then, what word or words does
but affect ? // affects the meaning 0/ the words, •' to the grave.** And,
^ammatically, what is the phrase to the grave ? It is an adverbial phrase
modifying leads; etc.

\ i

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'1'

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20B

METHOD OF INTERROGATION.

An Example from Arithmetic— Owin^ to imperfect

teaching many pupils who have " gone over *' square measure
have but misty notions of what is really done in finding the
area of a rectangle. Propose to a class g. g., to find the area of
a rectangle 5 ft long by 3 ft. wide, and ask a few questions on
the work and its result :

What answer have you goti Fifteen fed. Does that answer
need any correction? K«, it should be fifteen square feet.
How has the answer been obtained ? By multiplying 5 feet.,
the length., ^y 3i the breadth. What quantity does 5 represent?
// represents 5 linear feet. Many of the class will give this an-
swer, for the word length is prominent in the " rule," and by repe-
tition of the rule, their minds have become possessed by the idea
of length. Now, the thoughtless teacher, on getting such an
answer, will simply give the correct answer and pass on to
something else, and so the pupils who gave the wrong answer
have done no thinking in this correction of errors -have apper-
ceived nothing — and of course will retain nothing. The care-
ful teacher, by a few Socratic questions, will lead the erring
minds to make the corrections for themselves. He gets them
to recall the ideas that multiplication is only a short way of
doing addition where all the addends are equal, that the multi-
plier as representing simply hoiv many addends there are, is an
"abstract" number, etc. He draws a figure on the board
representing the rectangle whose area is to be found, performs
the usual operation using say 5 for multiplicand, and 3 for
multiplier. Then :

What quantity does this 5 represent / Five linear feet. What
has been done with this ? // has been multiplied by three. What
is the result ? Fifteen " linear " peet^ say some. No, fifteen
square feet, say others who having the trusty eye on the
15 square feet are de.drmined to stick to the right conclusion
in spite of their false premises. The teacher shows these close
observers that it is not permitted to play such fantastics

METHOD or INTERROGATION.

fOO

What

Iwhat

^fieen

the

lusion

tastics

tricks with quantities— that havinG; started with iittear feet in the
operation, with iinear feet they must end. Wliat have we
done ? Multiplied s linear feet by j, thus, 5x3 = 15. Can the
result be got in another way ? Yes, by addition, taking 5 thrte
times as an addend, thus sP- -^Sft- + 5Jt. = ijr//. Does this oper-
ation work any change on the quantity which 5 represents ? //
makes no change. Then what is the sum of sets + cts + sets ?
Fifteen cents. And of 5 linear ft. + 5 linear tt + 5 linoar ft.
Fifteen linear feet. But what is the area 1 Fifteen square feet.
And so, by a few similar questions, they are led to see that the
5 of the multiplicand represents not 5 linear units making up
the line A B, say, but the five square feet making up the first
jf the three equal rectangles which form the given rectangle.

Imparting new Knowledge.—By questioning not only is
ine vague made definite and misconceptions corrected, but also
new knowledge is acquired and assimilated v\ ih the old. By the
principles of the synthetic method (p. 173) ideas are connected
into groups, and these groups are used to interpret and assimi-
late new groups. Old knowledge is to be brought into vital
connection with new facts ; and this vrital union at the same
time gives meaning to the new and strengthens and enlarges
the old. To this end the analytic-synthetic method is employed
under the form of interrogation ; in all stages of learning the
pupil should be trained in self-activity, i.«., in self-education.
Even in primary reading, for example, he has to do something
for himself. Given the sounds of a few letters to start with, the
pupil can almost independently discover the sounds of many
others.

Having been taught to give sounds of & and /, and to form the
word at, he may discover the sounds of b, c, f, h, etc. For in-
stance, the picture of a cat is before him and he pronounces the
word cat ; the word is then written on the board ; the pupil
recognizes the familiar part a/, and recalls its sound ; he dis>

criminates the forms of at and c at^ and their sounds^ and
o

i'M

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i 8 "

aio

METHOD or INTERROOATIOIf.

i 1 1

thus, with a few repetitions, gains a definiH idea of the sounj
of /, as well as power to produce it ; and so on, with other
letters, ^, /, A, m, etc, as illustrated in the chapter on phonic
reading. When he has learned to pronounce the three-letter
words, of 'ivhich at forms a part, he will quickly learn to pro
nounce when written, and to write when pronounced, all the new
words which can be formed with the letters now familiar to
him ; as, e,g.^ pronounce caby can, etc, and he will write them,
or point them out on chart, etc.; or write sap, man, etc., and he
will pronounce them. In all this, questioning directs him in
identifying and discovering.

Even in the simple matter of naming numbers, the pupil's self-
activity may be engaged ; for example, he is taught that the
number made up of 3 an 1 10 (3 + 10) is named thirteen (three-
teen), and of 4 and Ktri, fourteen. Then, name the number com-
posed of 5 and 10 ? 6 and 10 ? etc What then, does tun mean ?
And, similarly, a number composed of two tens is named
twenty (twain-ty = two-ty), of three tens, thirty ( = three-ty) :
name, then, the number made up of 4 tens ? of 5 tens ?
etc What then does ty mean ? So, in notation, when a pupil
has learned through intuitive teaching, the relation between the
tens and the units, and also the significance of the symbols o, i, 3,
3, etc, it is only necessary to tell him that one ten and mo units
is represented by 10, to enable him to infer the notation of (a)
two tens and no units, thra tens and no units, etc; (b) one ten
and ont unit, one ten and two units, etc.; (c) two tens and otu
unit, two tens and two units, etc (See chapter on Teaching
Arithmetic)

Illustrations. — (i) We give a few examples from actual
work in the school-room.

When taught primary arithmetic by the intuitive method^*
especially from the graphic number-forms^ the child, very early
io his course, gains the idea of division of a number itito equai

METHOD or INTERROGATION.

SII

phing
Lctual

lod-
J early

partSt which is, of course, the fundamental idea of fractions.
And by first using whole numbers in applying this idea, he will
have no great difficulty in mastering the principles and rules of
the Arithmetic of Fractions For example t
Divide 2, 4, 6, 8, etc., by 2 ?

** 3» 6, 9, 12, etc., by 3?

•* 4, 8, 12, 16, etc., by 4?
etc, etc
Now take the half of 2, 4, 6, etc. ?

" " third' of 3, 6, 9, etc. ? ^

f* M fourth of 4, 8, 12, etc ?
Here, to enable him to pass from the old to the new, it will
be only necessary to tell him that to divide a number by 2, is to
take the half of it ; to divide a number by 3, is to take the
third of it, etc, 1.*., that there is a change of language but no
change of idea. It may not, indeed, be alwa3rs necessary to
make even this explanation. For instance :

An inspector was giving a lesson introductory to fractions,
according to the foregoing plan. He found, at the beginning
of the lesson, that the children did not know how to take the
half, the third, etc, of a number. He put a series of questions
in divisioTx, which all were able to answer : Divide 6 by 3 ?
9 by 3? 12 by 3? etc And then, without any explanation^
asked a bright little fellow: what is the third of 6? After a
moment's thought the child replied two ; and then answered
without the slightest hesitation, the questions : one-third of 9 ?
one-third of 12 ? etc, and one-fourth of 4? of 8 ? of 12 ? etc
The other members of the class soon caught the clew, and an-
swered similar questions with equal readiness. The inspector
then asked the leader in this process of discovery and identifi-
cation : How did you find out what I meant by the question,
what is one-third of 6 ? He replied, " There are three tvnfs in
tix, and I thought you meant one of them.**

At the end of the lesson, the class were able to answer such
questions as these : How do you find the half of a number?

3ia

METHOD OF INTERROGATION.

The third ? The fourth ? The n-th ? How many haivei

has a number ? How many thirds ? How many fourths

how many «-ths ? What is one-third of 6 ? /^^•<7-thirds ? three-
thirds ? What is <7«^-fourth of 8 ? /ze;<?-fourths ? Mr^^-fourths ?
M^r-fourths ? C7«^-third of a number is 4, what is the number ?
(9«<f-fourth of a number is 5, what is the number ? etc., etc.
And the brighter ones of the class answered such questions as
the following : Two-i\i\v^s of a number is 6, what is the num-
ber ? Three-io\xn\is of a number is 9, what is the number ? etc.

(2-) Solution of Problems.- An army loses 10 per cent, of its num-
bers in its first battle, and 10 per cent, of the remainder in the second bftttle,
and then had 16,200 men left ; how many men composed the army at first?

What part of a number is 10 per cent of it ? One-tenth.
One-tenth of the army is lost, what part remains ? Niiu-tentht
of it. One-tenth of this remainder is lost what part of it re-
mains? Nine-tenths of it. What part of the whole army now
remains?

A of A or ^.

If 81 hundredths of the army = i6,aoo men, what is one-
hundredth ? 200 men.

Then what number in the entire army ?

too times aoo men /. ^., 20,000 men.

I sold a horse so as to gain 10 per cent.; had the horse cost $36 more,
there would have been, at the same selling price, a loss of ID per cent
Find the actual cost of the horse.

How many cost prices are mentioned ?
Two^ the actual cost price, and a supposed cost.
What is the difference between these ? $j6.
How many selling prices? One selling pi ice.
What part of a number is 10 per cent, of it ? One-tentt\.
What relation between the selling price and the actual cost ?
Selling price = H actual (osi.

IIKTROD OF INTERROGATION.

•'3

one-

more,
cent

\\ cost ?

_ P > What inference ?

And also between selling price and supposed cost?

Selling price = ^ supposed cost.
What inference from these relations ? JVo answer.

Well if A =B

and A
Ans7vgrt B = C.

State the axiom by which this is inferred ?
Things which are equal to the same thing are equal to each other.
Then, what inference from the relations between the two
cost prices ?

^ of supposed cost » ^ actual cost
Therefore?

Supposed cost =H + A = V = ifof actual cost
From this, what is the difference between the two costs ?

The difference is | of actual cost
Complete the solution ?
Th^ difference is given = $36.

. • . f actual cost = $36, | = $ 1 8, and entire cost $162,
(3.) Algebraic Example, Socratic Questioning— In the expression

aV + t^c* + f'tf". What letters are involved ? <i,*,r. How are they
involved ? They are involved symmetrically. Taking the square root of
each term separately, what do you get? ab-\-bc-\-ca. Is this result the
square root of the given ex^yression 1 It is not. If for a,^,^, I substitute re-
spectively </,^,y^ or p,q,r, or x,y,tt etc., will it make any difference in your
argument? // will make no difference. If for a,*,f, there be substituted
a + ^, i-k-e, < + a, oj /-f, r~St t-u, will your answer still be valid? Jt
will. When any quantities are substituted for a^b^c, does your argument
still hold ? // does. Is the expression :

(* -y? (y - «)' + (y - «)' {» - jr)» + (i - *)« (* -y)\

similar to the given expression ? It is ; for a,b,c have been substituted re*
spectivdif X -y^ y-Mt *-x. Now, taking the square root of each term
separately, what do you get ?

{x-y){y't) + {y-M){M-x) + ($-x){x-r).

Compare the result with ab + be + ea. They are, ofcoursct similarly formed.

Is ab^-bc^ea the square root of a'^ + etc.? // is n$i. Then \%{x-y)

{y - s) -l-etc. the square root of {x -y)* (y - «)•+ etc.? R is

Bot, said the teacho^ It is the square root of it

•

««4

METHOD Of INTBRROGATlOlf.

At this declaration the dan were i^reatly astonished. What was wrong
in the reasoning? Their curiosity was thoroughly aroused. They ex-
amined the reasoning again and again ; there was a general marshalling of
all the ideas bearing on the matter, there was in a word, some close thinking
done, before the fallacy vras discovered. It would have been hard to con-
vince that class, that Mathematical reasoning "condemns to a minimum of
thought ; " that it is impossible to err in mathematical reasoning *' because
mathematical principles are self>evident, and the successive steps of the
reasoning are equally self-evident."

(4.) Socratic Questioning, Positive— The following is an example of
the positive extension of knowledge by questioning. A class had been led
to discoyer the two rational Actors of

and were now to apply the result to the resolution of certain similar formS|
The teacher tM nothing.

What about the symmetry of this question 7 //is tymmefrica/ in +a, +t.
•fr . What is its linear factor ? a+6 + c. Its quad ratic factor ?

which can be pat into the form )ma-ty+(k-f)*+(c-a)*}. Now let us
consider the expression :

a» + ^-^+jaAf (I).

With respect to what quantities is Mat symmetrical T JVo correct ansTuer.
How may this be derived from the expression already factored ? No correct
answer. The teacher then proceeded to give a few questions leading up to
the unanswered question.

How may a+c be got from a+if

A /no answer correctly, others incorrectly.

What shall we do with a+^ in order to get a?

Take away +^.

What shall we do with a to get a-k-e}

Add -l-r.

Then how is •+* changed into a+f ?

By taking away -^band adding +c, that is by mbstitutini \c for -t-S.

How shall a+^ be changed into a- ^T

By substituting -b for +*.

How shall «• + ^ be changed into «•-*■?

Bf substituting -4 for + ^.

Now what is the relation of form (i) to iStit primitive (wmi

It is derived /rem the primitive by substituting - e for-¥€.

States then, how form (i) differs from the prtmitiTe?

A d^m amtf in having -r for +e.

METHOD >r INTERROGATION.

aiS

+ *.

Well, we proTcd certain facts in the primitive form, what can 70a infer
as to the corresponding facts in form (i)?

They can he got from the facts of the primitivi by wbstituting ~€ /(tr -f A

Then what is the linear factor in form (l) t

aJrb-e.

The quadratic factor?

tf'+zI'^ + ^-a^+^+M, etc

How may other forms similar to form (i) be derived from the primitive ?

By substituting -i for +3 we get a second form, and by substituting - a
for 4- a we get a third form.

Give the factors of these two forms?

For the first ctue we have :

tf - * + r and a' •»■ ^ + <* ••■ a^ + Af— CO,

And for the second case :

-a-f *•♦•<• and a'+^'+f"+<i3- ^■♦■M.

Can jrott suggest how other forms may be derived from the primitive ?

For -^b and +r, substitute -b and -c respectively.

What is the result?

cfi-l^-t^-yibc. Thefiicton? tf-*-rand <i+3"+^-f «*-ir+ra.

May other forms like this be derived from the primitive ?

Ya^ by substituting for -^-e +a, ^nd again for -i-a+b.

And so at the v'x>nclusion of the lesson — which lasted about so minutes
— the class were able, without a moment's hesitation, to write down the
six derived forms and their pairs of factors.

4. To Cultivate Poiver of Expression ; Effect on Apperception
and Retention. — As intimated, this purpose of questioning per-
tains equally to the Testing of Retention and the Training of
Apperception. In fact, it is on account of the powerful effect
which the cultivation of expression has upon the funda-
mental processes of mind, that it is given a separate place
among our Purposes of Questioning. The thought is : because
words and the right use of words are necessary to both Apper-
ception and Retention, therefore, the training of the language-
power ought to be a prominent aim in all instruction

Belittling Words. — In the re-action against mere rote-
Icaming, there is a strong tendency to belittle words. " Words,
words, empty words, teach tilings not words," is the cry. Doubt-
less the old plan was wrong, the plan of filling the memory with

3l6

METHOD OP INTERROGATION.

words and making little or no appeal to the intelligence. The
plan is very old, as old as education itself; for it is an easy plan,
easy for the pupil, easy for the teacher. The mind of childhood
as we have seen, is exceedingly open to sensuous associations j it
can memorize words by connecting their successive sounds, with
but little attention to their meaning. But it is the work of the
teacher to check, or to rather properly direct this tendency.
He must see, indeed, that the child does not simply form a
series of auditory sensations ; but equally it is his duty to see that
this ready receptivity of the senses shall be employed in form-
ing connections of ideas. How is this to be done ? Not by
teaching words alone, nor things alone, but by teaching
words and things, by making ideas of things clear and definite
and this by fixing and defining them in words. While, therefore,
the teacher must be on his guard against teaching empty words,
he must be equally on his guard against imparting empty ideas ;
for if the word without the idea is empty, the idea without the
word is little better than an airy nothing without a local habi-
tation and a name.

Relation of Words and Ideas to Knowledge.—

" The learner's knowledge," says an English writer, " consists
in ideas gained from objects and facts by his own powers, and
consciously possessed — ^not in words. The words without the
ideas are not knowledpje to him." This is but a partial truth.
The learner's knowledge, if it is worthy of the name, if it is part
of an organized structure, if its up-building has had any effect in
organizing faculty, does not consist only in such ideas. It con.
sists in such ideas made clearer^ made more definite^ made more
comprehensive^ 2Sidi finally made incarnate in words. It is quite
true that if a child were to memorize a series of words by
merely connecting their sound-sensations, making the connec-
tions absolutely without reference to meaning, the words would
not be knowledge to him. But it is equally certain that with-
out words, or symbols of some sort, he would not be able to

METHOD or INTERROGATION.

117

weld his sense-impressions into definite and permanent forms,
and that such wordless mental experiences would not be
knowledge in any true sense of the word. The truth appears
to be that neither ideas alone (if there are such things that are
of any worth) nor words alone, constitute knowledge, but ideas
embodied in words ; and that this act of embodiment is a factor
in the finished thought, and is an essential part of the process of
organizing mental faculty by organizing knowledge. Let the
teacher remember that, even in the primary stage, " to learn
the name of a thing, and to learn how to use this name, in-
volves much more mental action than is required in forming
sense-peceptions about it."

Words and Clear Thinking.— Words, then, are not
only the instruments for the expression of thought, they are also
the instruments of the thinking process itself. Human speech
is the complement of human reason, the gift without which
reason would not be, and could not be what it is. Words
are at once the test and the condition of the cultivation of rea-
son, that is, there can be no thinking — deserving of the name —
without words, and no explicit proof that the thinking process
is going on, unless its products are objectified in words. For the
teacher, at least, the only proof of thinking on the part of the pu-
pil, is expression, oral and written; and of clear thinking, is clear
expression, oral and written. Definite thought means definite
expression. Vague expression means equally vague thought.
No act of thinking is complete till its products
have been set forth in words. And the manner in which
this is done marks the character of the thinking and the effec-
tiveness of the teaching.

Thought Lessons are Language Lessons.— It fol-
lows that every lesson should be a leson in language. It
should be a lesson in language because it is a lesson in thought,
and only so far as it is a language lesson is it an effective

i' mH l l-IH; <

2l8

METHOD OP INTERROOATIOir.

thought lesson. Every lesson, in all stages of learning, is given
to awaken the self-activity of the child, to cause thinking. It is
only by questioning that we can determine the matter and manner
of his thinking ; it is only by questioning that we can determine
whether the final step in the thinking process has been taken,
since this step ^s the act of expression itself. If we are giving
a simple object-lesson for the exercise of perception, we know
that the child has got the idea, and completed his act of think-
ing, when he has the right word for the idea, and can use it
properly and promptly. If we give a lesson which demands the
thinking of relations we know that the act of thought has been
performed when it is expressed in definite propositions. So,
in all the stages of intellectual development, the character of the
mental product is shown in the character of the expression
which we are able to elicit by the Socratic art

We have already seen that clear Apprehension is necessary to
Retention, and that clear expression is necessary to clear appre-
hension. The teacher must insist on ready and accurate utter-
ance of the thoughts the lesson is intended to convey. If a pupil
is unable to express the results of his thinking in any lesson, the
teacher may be sure that they have not taken definite shape in
his mind. The teacher must not be deceived by the earnest
plea, " I know, but I cannot telL" This means nothing except,
perhaps, that the mind is vaguely conscious of working towards
more clearly defined thoughts. The thought-elements, mental
nebulae, are there, but the unifying and discriminating laws of
Intelligence are to act still further, before distinct and finished
forms appear. Zet the thing be clearly seen, says Horace, and
the willing words will follow.

Interacti">n between Thought and Expression.—

From the relation between thought and language it may be laid
down as a sound principle that direct and clear expression is
preceded by dear thinking, and that the efiort to speak with di-

METHOD OP INTBRROOATION.

• 19

I, the
Lpe in
Imest
^cept,
rards
lental
Iws of
lished
and

m.—

laid
ion is
1th di-

rectness and precision reacts on the thinking process and con-
tributes to clearness of thought A maxim akin to that con-
cerning Doing and Knowing finds place here. As knowing
aids doing (page 182) and doing re-acts on knowing, so think-
ing aids speaking, and speaking re-acts on thinking. A man —
much less a child hardly knows what his thought really is, till
he has given form to it, i.^., till he has clothed it in spoken
or in written words. Everyone knows how thought grows in
clearness with each attempt to clothe it in words.

The trained master of thought and speech clothes his
thoughts at once in perfect language ; the word-embodied
thought is a pure mental product, and it comes forth, whether
in oral or in written speech, a thing of strength and beauty.
But the immature mind of the learner is far below such power
of thought and speech. A thought, as it first appears in his
mind, is vague, and, in its expressed form, it bears the marks of
this vagueness. But it is now before him in audible 2nd in
visible form ; this objectified thought is something that he can,
as it were, study as an object Guided by the judicious ques-
tioning of his teacher, and aided by the visible (or audible)
form before him, he turns the thought over and over in his
mind, each successive mental act being aided by the verbal ex-
pression of the preceding one — till at last the thought, as well
as the expression of it, is as perfect as he can make it. The
undoubted educational procedure, therefore, is : First the
Thought, then the Oral Expression of the thought,
then the Written Expression of it Thus the inter-
action between thought and expression will finally result in the
best expression of the best thought possible to the mind in its
presumed stage of growth.

Questioning Best for Language.— From what has
been said, the value of Interrogation as compared with continu-
ous Explanation is manifest A prevailing fault in primaiy and

9ao

METHOD OP INTBRROGATION.

secondary schools is that the teacher talks too much and the
pupil too little. It is easier for the teacher to think and talk
than to get his pupils to think and talk. And it is a common
error to suppose that clear thinking and expression on the part
of the teacher, ensure clear thought and ability to express
the thought, on the part of the pupil. But only the pupil's
self-activity educates, and speech, oral and written, is a neces-
sary condition of self-activity. The value of any lesson may
be determined, therefore, by the amount of correct expression
that it has called forth, and by this alone. A lesson in which
the teacher has done all the talking is nearly worthless. A les-
son during which the class have been questioned into clear and
direct expression, and which ends with reducing to written
forms the best that has been thought and said, is of permanent
value, because it enlarges knowledge and strengthens and de-
velops faculty.

Course to be followed. — What course, then, does the
wise teacher follow ? As far as possible, in all stages of learn-
ing, he makes every lesson a lesson in correct expression. By
clear and correct language in his explanations and suggestions,
and by clearly and definitely expressed questions, he stimulates
the pupil to a similar clearness and distinctness of thought and
speech. At the beginning of the lesson he has the pupils cor-
rectly express the groups of ideas bearing upon the subject-
matter of the new lesson. In every imperfect sentence he sees
the outward form of imperfect thought, and with an apt sug-
gestion or a brief but lucid explanation, he questions the class
into clear and well-defined thought clothed in chosen words.
He detects at once where mere verbal memory is at work in
rule or formula, or reproduced expression, and questions and
cross-questions the reciter till his empty words are filled with
solid and connected thoughts. Point by point he presents his
matter logically arranged to suit the pupil's stage of develop-
ment, and questions into a clear comprehension and a clear

METHOD or INTERROOATION.

921

rn-

>ns,

land
Icor-
ject-

[sug-
:lass
)rds.
in
and
Iwith
his
ilop-
:kaT

expression of the several parts. Concluding the lesson, he
insists on a connected summary, and what was grasped and
expressed in isolated sentences, is now reproduced in connected
form ; the ease and accuracy with which this is done being the
test and measure of the thoroughness of the instruction and of
its value in discipline. Finally, since it is impossible with large
classes to give the necessary time to each member for the
training of expression, he finds occasion as soon as possible after
the lesson, for the written reproduction in improved form of
all that had been thought and said.

If such a course as this is followed — and it can be followed
in all stages, from the primary class that studies a lesson in a
mere picture, to the advanced class that studies an im.
portant point in the philosophy of history, there will not be
much need of desultory language lessons, and there will be un-
doubted growth of organized capacities and of organized
knowledge.

Illustrations. — The rule to be followed is : in all classes,
from the lowest primary to thehighest class, no thought without
expression. If a child has had a lesson in which an idea has
been developed, as that of an angle, or of the color violet, or
of weight, the idea has not been clearly grasped, the lesson is
incomplete, unless the word and the idea are so closely asso-
ciated that the one instantly recalls the other. If an easy
thought has been acquired, as that a cube has six faces, the
prompt oral and written expression of the thought is the proof
of the value of the lesson. If by the use of objects and [practical
examples, the facts about the number /(^w;- have been taught and
learned, there must be facility in expressing the facts, and ability
to use them in m.aking and rightly expressing applied exam-
ples ; as e. g. three and one are four, four less one is three,
etc.; Charlie has four cents, if he gives Susie one, and spends
one for a pencil, how many has he left ? Suppose a lesson on
the text,

•ai;r!?5!5SS*!f"5Bi

233

METHOD OF INTERROGATION.

Politeness is to do and say
The kindest thing in the kindest way :
The children are led to a fair appreciation of this by an appeal
to experiences, perhaps incidents of the school-room or of the
play -ground ; the kind thing done in the kind way, the kind
thing said in the kind way, are illustrated in the concrete — ^the
value of the lesson depends on the exact oral or written expres-
sion of what has been developed. A class has been led to
discover certain facts about water ; water is a fluid, presses
equally in all directions, expands under certain circumstances,
etc. ; the lesson is not complete till the fragmentary thoughts
and expressions have been woven into connected oral and
written form.

From a primary lesson given on an angle, to a lesson on an
ode of Horace or a chorus of Aeschylus — wherever any in-
struction is given to strengthen the intellect or touch the heart,
the end is truly reached only when all that can be expressed is
reproduced in strong and beautiful speech.

More than half the value of classical study in the schools is
lost through inattention to this imperative law : Train power
and skill through proper expression. Too often teachers are
satisfied with the crude fragments of speech - disjecta membra —
which are the product of the baldest construing. We have
known students to express surprise that Demosthenes is consid-
ered the greatest of orators ; they had done much construing,
had done much of the author's work into a kind of English ; his
thoughts but dimly seen, were hustled mto the first clumsy garb
that offered from their meagre vocabulary; they had nevet
rendered a solitary paragraph from the majestic Greek
the equally majestic English. What is the worth of such tra. i-
ing either for enlarging knowledge or developing power?

Thus, too, many a student has read Horace, if we may be
pardoned the perversion of language, without ever having
caught a note of his lyric music To such unfortunates, even if

METHOD OP INTERROGATION.

»«3

)ls is

)aw^
are

)ra —
have
>nsid-
[uing,
;his
garb
levei

the intellect (airly grasped the meaning of what they had read,

the words of Byron may well be apjilied :

It is a curse
To nndentaml, not feel, his lyric flow,
To comprehend, yet never love, his verse.

Of course there must be grammatical construing ; by fragments
of thought and language, students must be questioned till the
meaning is fairly apprehended; but we need not begin, continue
and end in vague thoughts, and scrappy sentences. Take the
lines of Horace

Nequicqoam dens abscidit
Prudens Oceano dissociabili
Terras, etc

The thought is clear, the grammar is simple ; there could not well
be an easier piece of construing. Where then is the value of the
lesson ? It consists in rendering the thought into the best Eng'
iish possible by the combined efforts of teacher and learner. If,
patching together the fragments with which he bef;an, the stu-
dent ends with " the prudent god has cut off lands in vain by
the unsociable sea," the lesson is all but worthless. But the
work may be made of lasting value, if he be questioned and
cross-questioned on the poetic adequacy of different words, till
by the united effort of master and scholar, something approach-
ing Conington's fine lines is reached :

Heaven's high providence in vain
Has severed countries with the estranging maiit

Itra. »-

ivmg

'mmmt

^*^^'^"^T^'^^^^^

METHOD OF INTERROOATIOll.

CHAPTER X.

Method of Interrogation. — ContinuecL

Having studied the purposes of Questioning as concerned
with the Testing of Retention, we shall now consider such
purposes as more immediately relate to the Training of Ap-
perception.

(b) Training of Apperception: Preparation of
Mind.

Since the two processes are correlative, much of what has
been said, under the first division of the subject, applies with
equal force to the training of apperception, which we shall, there-
fore, study more briefly. The purposes to be studied under this
head are: (i) To Excite Interest; (2) To Arouse Attention ;
(3) To Direc" Attention ; (4) To Cultivate the Habit of Self-
Questioning.

1. To Excite Interest. — We have seen (page 164) t^at in-
struction must be based on the interest of the pupil. This prin-
ciple is CO extensive with the whole of education. What the
mind is interested in it will attend to, 1.^., it will exercise
its activity upon it ; what the mind is not interested in, has for
it practically no existence. There may be interest in the men-
tal activity itself, in the object upon which it works, in
the end which it is desired to reach, and interest may be ex>
cited through personal or rational motives. All instruction
is an appeal to some activity, and if this acti/ity is free and
unimpeded, it is naturally pleasureable. In the child, mental
movement is as spontaneous as physical movement, and under
right conditions, both ought to be equally a source of delight
It is the function of the teacher to appeal to these spontaneous
activities so as to increase rather than diminish the pleasure

METHOD OF INTERKOGATION.

92$

naturally arising from them. We may briefly consider how this
free activity may be properly controlled and stimulated.

Clear Presentation, and Interest — In the first place: by
well-arranged and connected questions the matter may be pre-
sented to the pupil's mind in a way best suited to his capacities
and attainments. In the course of questioning, the teacher is
in continuous contact with the child's mind, and, therefore, he is
less likely to present either too difficult or too easy stimulus.
Questioned on properly arranged matter, the learner is led to
make acquisitions for himself His progress is one of invention
and discovery ; his curiosity is kept on the alert ; he unexpect-
edly perceives the old in the new, he identifies ; — what was dim
and obscure to him he gradually works into a luminous thought,
he discriminates ; he pursues, in short, a method of investig-
ation differing only in degree from that of the greatest thinkers
and discoverers in philosophy and science, and feels the tonic
thrill of healthful menial life. Thus, there is produced the
self-activity which disposes to more strenuous effort, and de-
velops seif-reliance and a spirit of investigation.

The Clear Teacher. — On the importance of clear teaching we
may quote from Arthur Sedgwick's admirable lecture on
" Stimulus : "

For making boys think as opposed to merely cramming them, though
there may be higher qualities, there are few more important than clearness.
It may seem at first sight as if it was easy to be clear in teaching ; in fact
there are few things that want more constant attention, and even prepara-
tion. To make his own words precise and clear-cut ; to put complicated
things in lucid order and simple language : to search out for the point and
emphasize that duly : to avoid formulae as much as may be, and constantly
to formulate afresh when the boys begin to use words by rote ; when there
are difficulties, to shew exactly where the difficulties are : to lead on con-
fused answers till the confusion, and the exact point of the confusion, be-
come apparent : to cross-question neatly and succintly half knowledge, so
as at once to expose its incompleteness and supply the deficiency ; to define
exactly in a muddled head what is the particular tangle that has caused the

ifeMMjitaHta

■4M*

aa6

MBTHOO OP INTERROGATION.

! 1 '*'

muddle i these are some of the marks of the really clear teacher, and
clearness is excessively stimulating.

Sense of Power, and Interfst — In the second plact: The
clear presentation of material properly arranged for the learner's
stage of intellectual growth, helps to develop this sense of powers
of ability to grapple with difficulties wliich is one of the most
potent allies of the teacher (p. 1 16). In this consists one of the
best results ot the Socratic art. Where there is much lecturing
by the teacher, there is little real thinking by the pupil He
comes to feel that he is a mere spectator in a work in which
the lecturer is the all-important factor. But, attacking difficult-
ies as presented in thoughtful questions, he masters them one
by one, and each successful effort brings a glow of satisfaction
and a sense of growing power. Inspire a boy with confidence
in his ability to do a thing, and the thing is already half done )
all his energies will be aroused to action ; all his ideas bearing
on the subject will be brought to the front, and used by the
quickened mind in assimilating the new material To know
when to tell, and when not to tell, to evoke the maximum of
energy with the minimum of telling, is the mark of a teacher as
compared with a mere expositor. There is, in general, too much
talking by the teacher, and too little talking and thinking by the
learner. This is, no doubt, partly due to defective teaching j
many teachers have neither the literary nor professional training
to enable them to make the best of very imperfect conditions.
But, it is also partly due to popular ignorance of the nature of
education, which demands of the teacher more than he can
possibly accomplish, and almost forces him to follow the exposi-
tory method in the vain hope that what is clearly explained
will be learned with the best educative results.

Time a Factor in Oulture. — It is forgotten that time is a necessary
factor in education which is an organic growth, tlie growing organism being
a living soul in union with a growing body. And so, from a q>irit of fidsa
economj, a double burden is imposed on the teacher. la pioof of this,

IfBTHOD OP INTBRROOATIOV.

137

the

ling

of
can

>osi-

ing
lalM

lider the number of pupils a tingle teacher is expected to " educate ;" the
number of branches, disciplinary and practical, he is supposed to handle as
educating instruments ; the high ideal he is expected to keep before him,
and the short time allotted him to achieve his great work. Consider the
swarms of little children that are usually found in " Primary Divisions,"
where, if cor psychology is correct, is required to be done the most
important part of the great work of education, the part that will tell
with greatest effect on the welfare of the community. It is no won-
der thst even the earnest and able teacher, in presence of such a task
asd snch conditions, is almost driven to substitute his own self-activity
for that of the pupil, to do the thinking and talking that ought to be done
by the pupil himself in the process of self-education. It is, perhaps, vain
to hope that the multitudinous writers and speakers who are so ready with
their nostrums for the " improvement of the teachers and the schools," may
devote a portion of their energies to the removing of certain disabilities
which make impossible the task now assigned to the teacher. And the
watch-word of the first campaign in behalf of needed reforms, might well
be: for the primary divii>ions, double i he time and half the numbers. For
the higher grades, double the time or half the subjects^ — or better still, double
the time and half the subjects.

"Law of Self-Education.— The teacher, then, is to use
only needed explanation, and to have the pupil do as much as
possible for himself. He is not to be too ready with his aid ;
he is to develop the sense of power which contributes so much
to awaken interest Happily this source of interest can be
drawn upon in all stages of instruction. Every teacher has seen
the flush of pleasure on the face of the little child who has suc-
ceeded in doing what had threatened to baffle him. It may be
the articulation of a single sound, or the making of a letter, or
the drawing of a straight line ; it may be the combination of
known lettera into a new word, or the production of the written
form of a spoken word, or the discovery that nine is three
times three ; in every case there is a challenge to effort, and in
every success, the thrill of conscious power. With but little
telling, and much wise questioning, a class can be led to a fair
mastery of the fundamental rules of arithmetic, and, then with
lets telling, and less questioning, they will master for them

ml
mi

^r'^

METHOD OP INTERROGATION.

't i

selves, fractions and all the so-called rules of that much-abused
science. And this is true of all the rational subjects of the
school curricula. A teacher who explains much, who antici-
pates every difficulty, and trusts nothing to the learner's in.
dependent investigation, is shorn ot more than half his power.
This is the tendency of things today. There is too much
coddling demanded by indulgent parents; the teacher is ex-
pected to do everything for the pupil, who is to do little or
nothing for himself. Against this tendency, the able and
faithful teacher must be on his guard ; he must arouse and
deepen interest by developing conscious power. Tke boy must
educate himself.

Sympathy, and Interest, — In the third place : It has
been seen again and again that sympathy (pp. 113, 120) and
interest are great mental forces in the work of educating. Where
there is sympathy there is interest, with all that flows from it
Sympathy is the most potent force in the moral world. Sym-
pathy is in the world of mind what gravitation is in the world of
matter ; by the one is maintained unity among the systems of
worlds, by the other is secured the spiritual unity of humanity.
In the school-room it is the greatest of forces. To teach well,
the teacher must get very near to the child ; the strong must
put itself into vital contact with the weak; " to become a
teacher of children you must become a child." This relation
between teacher and taught, can be created by sympathy,
and by sympathy alone. For, it is impossible to get near
a child, to win his affection and his confidence, without hnaw-
ing him, without a clear insight nto the workings of his mind
and heart. And this is the gi/* of sympathy. The seventh
beatitude of the Divine Teacher is as sound in philosphy as it
is deep in spiritual significance: " Blessed are the pure in Heart
for they shall see God ; " that is, Blessed are the loving, the
sympathetic in heart, for they shall see things unseen by other
tyes

METHOD OF INTERROGATION.

339

the

• •

ICI-

in-
wer.
luch

cx-
e or

and

and
must

i has
>) and
iVhere

om it
Sym-

)rld of
:ms of
lanity.

|h well,
must

[ome a
•elation
ipathy,
;t near
know-
mind
seventh
)hy as it
In Heart
ving, the
\by other

A man that has but little sympathy can never be a teacher in
the best sense of the word ; lacking the gift of insight, he is
but a blind guide ; he may be a hearer of recitations, an ex-
positor of subjects, a martinet of discipline, an enforcer of
spurious attention, a prince of rule and routine, but he has no
power to touch the heart, and through the heart, to fashion mind
into a form of blended strength and beauty. On the other hand,
there is not a more beautiful sight than strong brain and
kindly heart working on the plastic mind of childhood. It is hard
to get implicit trust from children, but it is won through sym-
pathy. In the general management of the school its presence
is felt; but especially in lesson-giving, by the mterrogative
method, does the master's sympathy reveal itself and win the
interest of his pupils. He feels with them, he knows that
such feelings are theirs) for he projects his mind into theirs;
he is interested in the subject of instruction for their sakes ;
and they become interested in it for his sake ; he questions
their minds into a communion with his, till the strong "sympa-
thy of love unites their thoughts."

Mind to Mind- — The true teacher always knows when his
mind is out of contact with the minds of his children ; he has at
first, perhaps, pitched his questions too high or too low ; he has
failed to excite interest because he has failed to create the neces-
sary relation between their old mental experience and the new.
But he soon corrects his error ; the sympathetic mind is keen to
perceive and fertile in resources : he quickly touches the respon-
sive chord, and he feels, and the children feel, that teacher and
taught are one in thought and aim. There is perhaps no greater
blessedness than such an experience ; the teacher knows that
the bond of sympathy has been formed through which alone
true educating power can pass. Through it, he becomes a
child in heart without losing — rather increasing — his manly
strength of intellect. He moves down from his superior plane
of learning and power ; step by step he comes, till he reaches

^*^^

1 I

i$0

METHOD OP INTERROGATION.

> I

t ;

the lowly plane where children stand, and with a portion of that
divine enthusiasm for child-humanity which marked the Divine
Man, he draws them into a vital union with his strong heart
and intellect. It is not irreverence to say that in the presence of
such a teacher, the little ones press forward to touch the hem of
his garment, and that with every touch there goes forth a quick-
ening and transforming virtue of which the effects are as lasting
as the soul itself

Now, while the entire atmosphere of the school is one of sym-
pathy, and thus influences the general school life, it is in actual
teaching, especially by the Method of Interrogation ^ that it works
with personal power. There is a focussing, so to speak, of the
forces of sympathy, just as there is a concentration of the inel
lectual activity in attention ; in fact, the latter depends, in no
small degree, upon the former. Under this condition effective
teaching is possible. The teacher has an insight into every
mind ; he adapts his questioning to its needs, and arouses it to
normal action ; and breathless interest and brightening e} e,
prove that his labour is not in vain.

Arousing the Dull. — The questioning by which the
teacher reveals himself to his pupils, and by which he forms and
maintains a strong bond of sympathy with them, has the effect
of animating even the dull members of the class into some sem-
blance of life. This interest begins through class sympathy —
sympathy of numbers, and is deepened by the teacher's interest
in all. (Page 1 20). The teacher possessed of genuine sympathy,
feels a special interest in those who learn with difficulty ; it is the
heavy-laden ones whom he likes to encourage and to strengthen
for the burden. The measure of the teacher's power is his
ability to arouse the dull. Clever pupils will learn, even if the
matter is imperfectly presented, and the teacher shows but little
enthusiasm, but those of average ability, and especially the " slow
of heart," can be aroused only by the touch of a master hand
to the highest mental activity of which they are capable. Now,

METHOD or IRTERROOATION.

231

the
and
leffect
sem-
thy-
Iterest
)athy,
lis the
Igthen
his
if the
little
•slow
hand
Now,

by the animated and judicious questions of the teacher, the
interest of the whole class is deepened. The bright pupi)s are
^ull of enthusiasm, those of moderate ability are on the alert, and
the slow cannot escape the quickening influence. Mind acts
on mind, enthusiasm begets enthusiasm, interest is bom of
interest, until the weakest itiembers of the class share in a cer-
tain newness of life.

Nor does the teacher in his questioning fail to put questions
suitable to the dull boys ; there is something within ///<>/> grasp,
and he leads them to feel this, and under the vitalizing impulse,
even tiie dullest put forth unwonted energy, and the teacher
has the surest proof of his success in the progress of those whom
he had perhaps deemed incapable of learning. It often happens,
indeed, that a child that had been all but stupid in one branch
of study, develops a remarkable aptitude in another; as when
a student who has not taste or ability for science, discloses
special aptitude for language, and vice versa ; or, occasionally
one who is non-mathematical, shows a talent for literature.

Personality, and interest — In the fourth place: Sym-
pathy, we have seen, reveals itself and calls forth the sympathy
of pupils, through questioning. The lecturer sidinds afar off; he
may excite admiration, but be cannot create the strong bond of
sympathy which is the work of admiration and gratitude, and
which is essential in all true education. But the sympathetic
questioner works his way into the hearts of children. He is
able to descend from his superior heights. With the clearer
insight that comes from human sympathy, he has constantly
before him the intricate points with which the child is
wrestling, and affectionately ;iids the struggling mind into
clearer light. And so, the child feeling again and again, the
thrill that comes from conquest of difficulty, turns with blended
feelings of gratitude and reverence to his inspiring leader. In
this way is created a vital relation between the learner and the
teacher, and everything that the one shows a deep interest in,
becomes a source of interest to the other.

Jib ^ac a i juj t im

23a

METHOD OF INTERROGATION.

Sympathy united with enthusiasm constitutes a powerful
personality. More than anything else, it is this personality
that makes the successful teacher. Learning and methud will
be of little worth unless there is interest, enthusiasm in the
work, for this alone can arouse the interest and stimulate the
powers of the child. The fundamental principle is that person-
ality communicates itself, that there is developed in the pupil
the same state of intellectual and moral consciousness that
marks the teacher. If a subject has no interest for a teacher^
it can have no interest for the tauglit; but sympathy,
strengthened by enthusiasm will make the irksome, or even the
repellant, attractive. Such a teacher, pursuing his calling under
favourable circumstances, posseses all but unlimited power in the
great work of mental and moral development. He takes the
boys captive at his will ; he makes an attractive subject still
more attractive ; he invests the indifferent with newly discov-
ered charms ; he reveals an element of beauty even in what was
dry and harsh ; in a word, he makes the pupil love what he
himself loves, and hate what he hates ; for a part of his own
brain-power and heart-power, goes out in every lesson. He
organizes faculty, capvicity, tendency, almost at his discretion
The despiser of classics becomes an enthusiastic student of
Homer and Virgil ; the hater of mathematics takes to geometry
and the calculus ; and the unimaginative plodder becomes
saturated with love for the beauty and strength of Milton and
Shakespeare.

Method of Personality. —No mechanical methods can
possibly be a substitute for this personality. It is the powei
that ensures clearness, force, and permanent effect to all lesion-
giving; and especially is it this that moult^s the character of
the pupil. More than knowledge, it imparts love of knowledge
and ability to acquire it ; more than mere information about
right and wrong, it forms character^ which shows itself in a spon-
taneous and unswerving loyalty to conscience (page 154).

METHOD OF INTERROGATION.

a33

can

Iwei

son-

)OUt

In the interminable discussions about "methods," therefore, it
should be remembered that the true method for the Educator,
is not to be found among the scores of ways, plans, devices,
methods, that are so often enumerated : it is the Method of Per-
sonality. Erudition, knowledge of mind and normal method,
have their place, a high place. But the highest place must be
given to Personality. It is almost impossible to over-rate the in-
fluence of a strong personality. The most permanent influences
history has known, or perhaps will know, may be traced to its
forming and transforming power. It operates in the schoolroom,
with far-reaching influence, because the teacher loves and re-
■pects infinitely the nature of the child, and comprehends the laws
of its development. Too much reliance on methods as methods,
makes education mechanical — dull, deadening, benumbmg,
destructive of vitality in both teacher and pupil. This is due
largely to an immense exaggeration of the mechanical power of
the teacher and its substitution for vital power. Give the
pupil's mind a chance — do not destroy or enfeeble it by putting
in place of it a machine which you yourself have modelled.
Personality, not method, is the only power to produce per-
sonality; method based on recognition of personality — both
formally and in its contents,— gives the mesmeric energy of
the true teacher. In this informing spirit, sympathy united with
enthusiasm, is the greatest factor. Great thoughts come from
the hearty and, says John Morley, this is the truth that shines
out as we watch the voyagings of humanity from the " wide,
grey, lampless depths " of time. Those have been greatest in
thought who have been best endowed with faith, hope, sym-
pathy, and the spirit of effort.

2. To Arouse Attention.— T\\q value of questioning in securing
attention—/.^., tli? exercise of mind-power— has been already
referred to (page 37). A question is a challenge to attention ;
a series of logical questions secures continuity of attention and
consequent unity of thought. If there is to be any true learn-

234

METHOD or INTfiRftOOATION.

t; '.

ing — any true relation— between the mind and the object-mat-
ter, there must be attention — not counterfeit attention, but the
l)ositive exercise of mental energy. Questioning is the only
means by which we can know that such attention is maintained.
For what is this effective activity of attention, or what does it
imply? It implies (page 6i) the existence in the mind of
ideas and groups of ideas essentially related to the new presen-
tations ; it implies that these groups — forming an appjrceiving
capacity in the learner's mind — shall be brought to the front,
made fresh and active, full of vitality, in order that the new
and related groups may be so grafted upon them that an

organic growth takes place.

In the early stages of learning this can be secured by
questioning and by questioning alone. If the teacher simply
explains, he is in the dark as to how the mind of the pupil is
dealing witli the explanations. There is no real attention, no
creating of relations between connected points, unless the mind
collects its forces in order to move from point to point in
discovering relations. The teacher, then, having first clearly
thought out what previous knowledge is necessary to enable
the child to understand the lesson, calls up that knowledge
by judicious questioning, gives ft unity, freshness, vividness ;
in a word, puts the studeat's mind in a comprehending, attitude
and then, by a similar course of judicious interrogation, assists
it in forming the inner relations between the niatter of the new
lesson and the freshened knowledge of the old.

Illustration. — If, for example, a master is going to give a
first lesson on compound addition, he asks himself what is the
relation between the new rule and the rules the pupil has al-
ready learned ? What ideas must be clear and fresh in the child's
mind that he may firmly grasp the connection, i>., recognize in
the (apparently) new the familar features of the old ? What are
the resemblances, what the differences? The only differen e of

METHOB or INTBR ROGATION.

»35

ive a
the
IS al-
lild's
Ize in
It are
eof

course, is in the mode of notation — a fixed ratio in the simple,
a varying ratio in the compound Mle. He calls up in the
learner's mind the old ideas that are related to the new rule, e.g.^
that : (i) ten units make one ten, ten tens make one hundred,
etc.; (2) in adding a column of units the tens of the aggregate
are carried to the tens* column, and the units are placed under
the units' column ; (3) in doing this we in effect divide the sum
of the units by ten in order to find the number of tens to be
canied ; as, e.g.^ when the aggregate of the units* column is 57,
and we consider this as 5 tens and 7 units^ we really divide 57
by 10 ; etc. Thus, by recalling vividly to the learner's mind
all the facts which are common to the two rules, the points of
difference are seen to involve no new principle and are easily
apprehended — the new is recognized as simply a modified form
of the old.

So, in beginning Tractions, a child is led to group certain ideas about the
idea of diviaion of a whole number into equal parts^ e.g., that a number has
two halves, three thirds, four fourths, etc. ; that one of its halves is equal
to two of its fourths, equal to four of its eighths, etc. ; that three of a
number's fourths is equal to one-fourth of three times the number, etc.

This grouping of ideas of interpretation is a necessity in all
learning ; It is the application of the old maxim, Pass from
the known to the unknown. There must be preparatory mental
adjustment, the known must be revivified, must be made ready,
then there follows the process of attention, of making right con-
nections, till the goal of the unknown is reached and found to
be the known made larger and clearer.

In an ordinary reading lesson, for example, the child usually first reads
over the lesson to get a " general idea " of its meaning. This serves as a
centre of gravitation, it may be said, around which gather other ideas
that come from further study and teaching. In othec words, though this
general idea may be vague, it is his starting point, it is what he will use
when he goes over the lesson again, in acquiring a clearer idea of the whole
by getting clearer ideas of its parts. And thus the process goes oa till the
whole it thoroughly assimilated.

236

METHOD or INTERROGATION.

!'-

3. To Direct Attention. — Concentration of mind upon any
subject implies not onl)^reparatory adjustment of atten.ion^
but also a movement in discovering relations of identity and
difference (pp. 63, et seq.) After the initial act of attention,
the stretching out of the mind with ils prepared groups of ideas
towards new matter, what follows ? 'I'here begins the movement
towards a definite end, a process of defining and enlarging,
discriminating and unifying. In the exercise of these essential
functions of mind, the learner must be directed by questioning.
His untrained mind cannot make the right preparatory adjust-
ment of ideas, much less can it seize upon resemblances, notice
differences and discover the law of connection which compre-
hends variety in unity. He is overwhelmed by the mass of
materials that confront him. No matter how well the topic may
be presented by text-book or lecturer, his immature powers
cannot make the needed analysis, exclude the irrelevant, seize
upon the salient points, and form the right connections. Thus,
the teacher must make the required analysis, logically arrange
the material, and skilfully question the learner in the line of
related ideas till he has clearly discerned the relations. This
work goes on from day to day, gradually forming a habit of
noticing identities and differences, of forming essential con-
nections, and ultimately developing a power of analysis and
synthesis which leaves the learner largely independent of the
teacher.

Whatever may be the subject matter of a lesson, there is an
orderly way of presenting it, which tends to form the habit of
concentrated attention, of clear and consecutive thought

Illustrations. — If a lesson is to be given in arithmetic, say
on the Least Common Multiple, the teacher will keep clearly
before him the central truths, that the Least Common Multiple
of several numbers must contain all the different i3iC\.oxs found in
the several numbers, and each of these in the highest power in

METHOD OF INTERROGATION.

•37

'his
of

and
the

Is an
of

say
;arly
[tiple

id in
Ur in

which it occurs. He will not at first, ot course, state the facts
in this abstract form ; l)ut they will guide him in questioning
the class through concrete examples up to a clear conception of
the principle. For the Least Common Multiple of 6 and 8, e.g.,
he proceeds somewhat as foMows :

The factors of 6 ? 2 and 3.

What, then, must any muliple of 6 contain?

j4// the factors of 6 vi%. 2 and 3, 1./., 3 • a (l).

The factors of 8 ?

Three two's, i./., a • 3 • a.

What therefore must any multiple of 8 contain?

All the factort of 8, vit., 2 • 2 • 2 (a).

Wh.it then must a cummon multiple* of 6 and 8 contain?

// must contain the factors ( i ) and (2).

Will not tal<ing the factors (2) suiBce?

No, because a product of two's cannot contain 3, which is a fnrtoi in (i).

Well, taking; tlie factors (2) and tlie factiii 3, what results ?

The result I'x 2 • 2 • 2 • 3 (3),

Is it not necessary to take also the other factor of 6, viz. a?
No, for 2 is contained in the factors already used.

A different series of questions may, of course, be asked ; th-' foregoing
simply illustrates the principle under consideration, viz., that attention must
be directed by a series of connected questions starting from some basic
principle. • •

Again : Take the famous fifth proposition of Euclid, I., (the
Pons) : if a boy of common ability fails to master this proposi-
don, it is because of poor teaching, /^.s every one knows, the
fourth proposition is really the essential pdic of the " Brid;^e,"
and if this is thoroughly mastered, whence should difficulty
arise ? Question the boy into a thorough understanding of the
fourth proposition, and the key of Euclid is in his hands. He
will hardly stumble, much less fail, when he attacks the fifth.

In teaching the Pons, then, there is first of all, preparatory adjusting
of attention: the boy is tested upon his knowledge ot the fourth pro-
position ; his knowledge must be practical, i.e., capable of ready applica*
tion to easy cases ; a few easy exercises leading up to the pons, are given,
•tc. Then there is a directing of attention : there is first of all attention to

M! •!

METHOD or INTERROGATION.

the envndtHon, general and particular ; next, to the constmction ; then to
the demonstration in three parts, viz. : — part /irsff in which the equality
of the two " larger " triangles is proved ; then part tecond^ in which the
equality of the two triangles on the base is proved ; lastly, part thirds in
which the results of the first and second parts are used, and the conclusion
formally inferred. That is, the whole argument is subdivided, snalyzed,
and clearly presented in its several stages. With such a direction of
attention by means of the well arranged questions, the boy's mastery of
this famous proposition is assured.

This Directing Attention is of universal application. In a
common reading lesson, in a simple poem, in a gem of litera-
ture, in a chapter of history, etc., there must be some unity^ a
grouping of ideas upon some principle, movement towards some
end. And this unity must be apprehended and presented in
the true spririt of the Socratic Art.*

4. To Cultivate Habits of Self- Questioning — The goal of
attention is ability to grasp large wholes in one act, and to give
at the same time, distinctness to the parts. This goal is reached
thiough systematic exercise of the related processes of identi-
fying and discriminating, that is, by the exercise of the mind's
analytic and synthetic functions, which are best trained through
the Method of Interrogation. The questioning which con-
stantly appeals to the mind's native tendency to notice differ-
ences and to detect resemblances, must cultivate the habit of
self-questioning, which may be considered the test of the
development of attention. It is plain that every series of such
questions as have been described, goes to form or strengthen
this habit. This thing that I perceive, what is it ? What are the
points which connect it with anything I have hitherto perceived ?
Wiierein is it like, yet different from, other things that I have
known ? These facts that are before me — what relation have
they? These relations — are they comprehended in a wider
law ? In this problem — what are the facts or conditions given ?
What is the thing sought ? Are any of these conditions irrele-

* For «MUBplM ia Literaturo etc., see Vol. 00 Deuilod Methods of Teaching,

MKTUOD OF INTERROGATION.

239

ity
the

>
(ton

y of

:n a

tera-

f/y, a

some
edin

,al oi
ofeive
ached
identi-
kind's
rough
con-
diflfer-
ibit oi
I of the
)f such
[ngthen
1 are the
:eived ?
I have
have
wider
given?
irrele-

vant ? What relations are explicitly given, what implictly ?

Such a spirit of enquir}* calls into exercise all the activities of

attention, its adjusting, selecting, and relating powers — and

ultimately brings the highest degree of intellectual energy which

the student can attain.

Clearly, this intellectual habit can be formed by logical questionlLig and by
this alone; The pouring out proce.%ses whether by text-books, that copiously
explain the easy and are silent on ihe difficult, or by teachers who with a
fatal flow of words explain everything, works against independent investi-
gation and th< growth of power. The wurdy teacher has been referred to ; the,
wordy annotator deserves a passing notice. He is more to be dreaded than
the wordy teacher. The young learner will sometimes venture to question
the scientific or literary accuracy of the ora^ instructor ; but he receives
with unqu tioning reverence the printed statements of the annotator.

In the course of a long experience, we have rarely found a
young student bold enough to question a statement made by
an editor of an English or a Classical author. In the lines :

*' Yet e'en these bones from insult to protect.
Some frail memorial still erected nigh,
With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture decked
Implores, the passing tribute of a sigh."

Scores of students have been known to decl e that **yef k
an adverb moaifying implores," because some of the editors had
so disposed of it, and both teachers and learners had accepted
this "note " on the meaning of yet. Evidently, the famous Elegy
had not been considered in its unity, nor had there been any
" directing of attention " to its related parts.

Take the vjII known lines of Horace :

•

**Hunc, si, mobilium turba Quiritium,*
Certat tergeminis tollere honoribus ;"

It is safe to say that during the long reign of Anthon, thou-
sands of students regarded honoribus ?iS " a dative, a Graecism

•'* This joys, if rabbles fickle as the wind

Through triple grade of honours bici him rbe."

240

METHOD OF INTERROGATION.

Vi I

for aii honorts.^ They had never once ventured to ask whether
honoribus might be the other case, and the Graecism, a fiction.
We remember the amazement of a certain class and the indig-
nant protest of their master, at the bare suggestion that there
might be no "Graecism " after all. The labit of self-question-
ing, of independent thought, is not iikely to be formed either
by garrulous teachers, or verbose commentators. Study the
author, shelve the annotalon

II. Qualifications of the Questioner.

We may roughly classify these under two heads, («) Ac»
quired Qualifications, and (b) Natural Endowments. Undei
(a) we shall consider a few ot the qualifications that are indis-
pensable in all good teaching :

(i) Thorough Knowledge. — Clear teaching is necessary and
to this, thorough knowledge of the subject of instruction is
essential What a teacher does not know he cannot teach ;
what he does not know well, he cannot teach well. To know
a subject well, it must be known in its relations to kindred
subjects. A single, isolated fact, or principle, as we have seen,
is not knowledge ; to become knowledge, to have any effect on
intelligence, it must be grasped in its relations. It follows, then,
that an instructor niu^t know of a subject far more then he in-
tends to teach. If, in mathematics, for example, he is ignorant
of Algebra, he cannot teach Aritlnnetic so well as i^ he were a
skilled Algebraist. If he knows only the four '^undamental
rules of Arithmetic, his teaching of these will not deserve the
name of teaching, indeed, since all knowledge is one, it may
be truly said that the broader and more thorough a teacher's
scholarship is, the belter he will teach even the elements of

knowledge. He will know his topic better, for he will see it in
its relation., he will know its several parts better ; he will be
more feitile in illustration and all skilled devices of the teacher's
art ; he will impart some educative value even to the simplest

METHOD OF IRTERROGATION.

341

on.

iig-
\cre

ion-
itber
i the

Undel
indis-

iry and
ction w

teach ;
'o know

kindred

lvc seen,

effect on

ws, then,

en he in-
ignorant

le were a
damental
serve the

le, it may
teacher's

Hements oi

U see it in
he will be
^e teacher's
le simplest

lessons. They are clearly wrong, therefore, who take the ground
that the primary teacher need " know " only what he is going
to teach. The primary teacher, it is sometimes argued, is to
give the elements of reading, writing and numbers ; if he can
read, write and cipher, he is quttlified as an educator; the
minimum of knowledge to be imparted fixes the maximum
of knowledge for the teacher. If this view were acted upon,
primary instruction would be of the most mechanical kind.
The teacher is himself without interest in the subject which he
feebly comprehends ; his own powers having never been called
into vigorous action, how can he awaken interest and incite to
vigorous effort ? The truth of the matter is, that just because
the primary subjects have in themselves but little culture-value,
it is the more necessary that the teacher should have a liberal
culture, as well as the power of insight into human nature.
For, in this stage o^ development, above all others, it is the
method rather than the matter, that is of greatest value.

The beginnings of knowledge which we have smdied in our
psychology, are the beginnings of moral and intellectual life.
" The child i? to be trained towards the perfection of manhood
his nature brought into fullest activity on all sides, and his
powers developed in harmonius completeness, so far as time
and circumstances permit." This view of primary work is not
an ideal one which we may imagine but never hope to realize.
The standard aimed at is easily within the reach of the earnest
cultivated teacher; it is far beyond the crude empiric whose fit-
ness for the teacher's high vocation is an imperfect knowledge of
the mechanical trivium, reading, writing and arithmetic.

In the more advanced work, it is a truism that good knowledge
is necessary to good teaching. The teacher must command
the confidence of his class ; they must have respect for his
character and admiration for his attainments. Thoroughly
master of his subject, he moves along with conscious, yet un-
pretentious power, and his boys look up to him as soldiers to
Q

243

METHOD OF IN iEKROGATION.

I-

!!,!

an able leader. Brieliy, in all grades o( leaching from the Kin-
dergarten to the University, wherever there is to be true
leaching, wherever power is to be developed and character
formed, there ought to be broad and accurate knowledge and
a good degree of general culture. Faculty is to be. organized by
clear presentation of organized knoa ledge, and, therefore, the im-
perative condition is : To organize faculty, the teacher
must have organized knowlfjdge.

(2) I r.^ui'-ation of Lessons. — It follows that every lesson
should be thoroughly prepared. However conversant a teacher
may be with the subject-matter of a lesson, he will know it
better for teaching purp(xst<, if he makes special preparation.
He may have gone over the thing again and again, but if he
is about to teach it to a new class, it will have a fresh interest
for him. A strong mind never moves twice in exactly the same
groove ; and, therefore, tl»e tiite subjec is as they are reviewed,
will be broadened and freshened by increasing knowledge,
while interest is still further aeepened by the power of sym-
pathy. Every teaciier has lelt the thrill th.at comes in teaching
even a familiar topic, when he realizes that the humble ele-
ments he is presenting have been seized by the mind of the child
to the awakening of new life and strtngrh. The teacher is
before his i)upils as the dispenser of wonderful revelations, and
what to him is but the A. B, C, of knowledge, brings to them
the joy of discovery and the sense of growing pf)wer. On the
other hand, most teachers have had the disagreeable feeling
that comes from half knowledge of a subject, or imperfect
prep 1 ration of a lesson. A master imparts with la- ting effect
what he has thoroughly pre[)ared ; what, from want of prepara-
tion is only half knowledge, leads to feeble teaching, Inslead
of moving in conscious strength, he sees dimiy, his siep is
feebly wavering, and keen eyes are (^uick to see that he is in a
maze without a clue. I'o be readv in resource, to have fresh-
ness of m'lnd, Lo possess and to inspire confidence, to arouse

METHOD OF INTERROGATION.

a43

ele-
child
i( r is
and
them
>n the

jellng
^rft'ct

effect
|cpara-

islead

liep is

is in a
fresh-

larouse

and develop mind, the golden rule to be followed in all
teaching, from a lesson on the cube to one on Differential

Equations, is : Make Thorough Preparation of the
Lesson.

(3) Analytic Poiver. — The questioner must have a trained in-
tellect; he should possess analytic power. ** Present one thing
at a time," is one of the soundest of maxims. This implies
that the object matter has been analyzed, the connection of
the several parts observed, and that the one thing is presented
at the right time,, and at the ri.;ht place in the series. If the
teacher is not guided by the unity of the topic, if his questions
have no thread of connection, l.jw can his pupils apprehend
even the ''one thing at a lime?" Once more, the one thing,
in order to have any meaning, must have a logical connection
with something else. Disconnected questions are the product
of a muddled brain. And if that is the state of things with
the teacher, it is with the pupil confusion worse confounded.
Teach one thing at a time, but teach it in its right connection,
so that, the pupil re-thinking the related things, in the end re-
constructs the whole with which analysis began, 'i'hus he will
be gradually trained to the exercise of the highest functions of
the intellect. The analytic hal)it of mind is, perhaps, three-
fourths of the intellectual qualifications of the succesrful ques-
tioner. A fruitful source of failure is the lack of logical method
in teaching. Speaking generally, the untrained mind cannot be
logical ; and the illogical mind cannot teach. The mechanical
observance of mechanical methods cannot make him a teacher.
His habits of confused explanation and jumbled questioning

are incurable. Therefore, cultivate the Analytic and
Synthetic habit of Mind.

(4) Knowledge of Mind. — All our previous study goes to
show that a knowledge of psychology is indispensable to the
true educator. It is with the workings of a mind that the
teacher has constantly to do. His method is good, his skill is

iftiiria

■ta^MuMi

(' r I

244

METHOD or INTERROGATION.

great, only so far as they intelligently appeal to these mental
processes and contribute to their highest results. He may have
been crammed with pedagogical formula, rules and devices*
and methods and maxims, about ** how to teach and how not
to teach," . but if he knows little or nothing of the laws,
principles, and results of mental activity, his methods and
his devices are likely to be only crude experiments, know-
ing no law, or unity, or definite aim. The teacher, then, should
know the laws of mind, and make all his expositions, all his
questioning, tributary to its spontaneous activities ; he should
ever realize that he is questioning a /w/W. The empiric is
saturated with the idea that his great aim is to question about
a subject ; for him, the mind exists for the "subject," not the
subject for the mind. But the Artist^ knowing the material he
has to work upon, and familiar with the marvellous processes
by which it grows and develops into the noblest thing on earth,
subordinates method and all its instruments, to mind and its
development. Let the teacher remember that in the exercise

of his highest function he is a Questioner of Mind.

(5) Practice in Questioning. — The reciprocal action be-
tween knwing2iX\A doing has been frequently pointed out. Long
ani intelligent practice is necessary to skill in any art. Let the
young teacher aim from t/u very beginning, at excellence in the
Art of Questioning. In seeking the way to excellence let him
remember : By doing alone, the way is endWss : by knounng

alone, the way is long ; by Knowing and Doing the
way is short and sure.

(6) Personal Endowments. — Undci this head but little need
be added ♦^o what has already been advanced. It has been seen
that persmaltty is the vital element in the qualifications of the
teacher. Knergy, enthusiasm, decision of character, sympathy
and the msight which comes from it, are the chief elements in a
rtK>Dg personality, ^od for this, no method, mechanical or

METHOD OP INTERROGATION.

mental
y have
lcvices»
ow not
e laws,
ds and
, know-
», should
5, all his
e should
mpiric is
ion about
» not the
aterial he
processes
; on earth,
d and its
le exercise

iction bc-
lut. I'Ong
. Let the
: nee in the
ice let him
)y knowing

oing the

little need
Ls been seen
ions of the
•, sympathy
ements in a
chanical or

rational, can be a substitute For, such a teacher, in no slight
degree communicates himself. The mere tradesman, follow-
ing with numb rigidity pedagogical rules whose meanmg he has
never grasped, drags his pupils through a dull and dreary rou-
tine of unprofitable facts, touching the intellectual and moral
nature only to their lasting injury. But the strong-brained, and
strong-hearted teacher, who also is impressed with the worth of
the human spirit, will, while developing the intelligence of his
pupils, plant in them moral feeling, and the sense of a univer-
sal love of man. Strong through patience, and hope, and faith,
and sympathy, and the spirit of effort, he touches the intellect
indeed, but touches also the moral and religious nature, inspires
a reverence for the divine spirif of the Gospel, " which is
operating with ever widening, humanizing, and enlightening
influence on the destinies of mankind."

He who would attain the transforming power of the ideal
teacher may well keep in mind the decree which Frederick the
Great, with all his un-orthodoxy, thought it wise to issue to his
Prussian teachers : "As far as the work of the school is concerned,
school-masters are earnestly reminded above everything to pre-
pare themselves for teaching by heartfelt prayer for themselves,
and ask from the Giver of all good gifts, wisdom, and patience,
that their exertions and labors may be blessed. In particular
they are to pray that the Lord wouM grant them a heart pater-
naly inclined, and tempered with love and seriousness towards
the children entrusted to them, that they may discharge the
duties lying on them as teachers, willingly and without grudge,
remembering that they can accomplish nothing, not even gain
the hearts of the children, without the divine aid and Spirit of
Jesus, the friend of children."

III. Matter and Form of Questions.

What is to be said under this head, also, follows necessarily
firom the purposes of questioulng, and hence it will suffice to

mmumtummm^mtm^n

I i

I '

: i I ii \'

346

METHOD or INTERROGATION.

give a short summary of the characteristics of questioning as to
Mattery Form and Mode.

(a) As to the matter of Questions. -(i) We may

notice the following characteristics :

(I.) /?^;///^//^jj.-- Questions should be perfectly definite, i.e.
unambiguf)us, precise, and corresponding to some assigned part
of the subject. Some teachers ask unanswerable questions, i.e.,
questions which it is impossible to answer, or which could be
answered in half a dozen ways. (page 167.) A definite
question* is given upon a definite portion of the subject matter,
and in clear, terse and precise language. Both of these rules
are too frequently violated. A few illustrations from "real life,"
may be given :

Ullistration. — "What occurred in Palestine after the destruction of
Jerusalem?" To answer that question woultl require on the part of the
student an extraordinary ^ift of initid-rea'ling. " If you place a aver b
what does it mean ? " The teacher had in mind a way of repre^elUinJ>
division ; but, a boy would have been quite right in respectfully asking foi
the meaning of "over," and " it." " What influence do you draw from the
fact that water, in freezing, contracts till a certain temperature is reacheii,
and then begins to expand ? " "What sort of quantity is a* + aA-rh^?'
"In this poem, explain the devices of contrast and contiguity." And so on

A teacher in training was giving a twenty-minute trial lesson on "Part-
nership." In starling to "develop" the idea of Partnershi|<, he pro-
ceeded as follows :

" A man comes to the city to begin a certain business and finds that it will
take $2,000 to start the bus' u-s, but lie has only $1,000, what will ho do ? "
No answer being given, the teacher said " surely some of you can answer,"
and repeated the question, slating the supposition and ending with " What
will. he do? " After another solemn pause, one boy said : " I'lease, sir, he
would borrow a thousand ilollars." This was a very good answt •, but not
the required answer. The teacher was plainly taken aback, but said : "No,
the man was a stranger in the city, and c»)uld not borrow a tTiousand dollars,
What would he do, think a ujonient?" "After another pause, a tliougliiful
boy — who was perfectly sincere — said : Please, sir, if a man had a thousand
dollars of his own, and had a good character, couldn't he borrow another

METHOD OF INTERROGATION.

as to

may

te, /.<'•
d part
IS, i.^ ,
lid \)e
lefinite
matter,
iC rules
al life,"

action uf

Lrt of I he

; a ffver o

re^eiUiny

isking ft»
from the-
reached,

Inil so on

\ "Part
he pro-

[hatitwill
llhedo?"
answer,"
Ih "What
[se, sir, he
but uot
lid: "No,
id dollars,
lllioutihlful
ihousand
another

ihousand?" Which was a perfectly correct and business-like view of the
case, showing considerable tliotij,dit on the part of the answerer. The
teacher was now driven to answer his own vaj^ue questions ; in othei
words, at the end of the lesson, the boys had learned that, in the opinion
of the teacher, the man with "the one thousand dollars would try to finil
another man with a thousand, etc." That was the result of a twenty
minute elTort to "divelop " the idea of partnership.

Vague questions have an exceedingly mischievous tendency.
The thoughtful boy honestly endeavcuiing " to pay attention,"
is bewildered, and is likely to become inattentive to what he
cannot understand. To tlie less conscientious boys, such
questions area premium on "guessing;" they often hit upon
the an.svrers expected by the teacher, and so gain some credit
thri)ugh dishonrsty.

(2) Logical Sequence. — In the Second Place : From what
has been already said upon the necessity of presenting facts in
their relations, it follows that questions should be connected^
sh(;uld proceed from one point, or topic, to another, with due
regard to the unity of the sul)ject. Even in elementary teach-
ing, some order should be observed in questioning ; for, as
already said, if tacts are presetited in their iiatutal connection,
there will be growth in the learner's mind into a conscious
thinking of the relations. It may be stated once more that, in
all grades of instruction, theie can be clear thinking, and actual
assimilation on the part of the learner, only when there are
clear thinking (analysis and synthesis) and connected instruc-
tion on the part of the teacher. The most fruitful source of
weak and ineffectual teaching to-day is, without doubt, the lack
yi{ logical power, and, therefore, of ability in clear insiru< tion.
Teachers are not, of course, responsible for all the i)icp'isterous
answers which are given at examinations, and which are made
to do duty in exposing the weakness of educational work. But
there is no doubt that dispersive and di.scursive teaching and
questioning are partly respon.'sible. It seems impossible that

iiS

METHOD OF INTERPOLATION.

all the absurd answers are due to hasty preparation, or sheer
stupidity. The candidates must, in some instances, have
suffered from immethodical teachmg and " discontinuous "
questioning. Of such teaching, the candidate who gave the
following answer was doubtless a victim : What are the char-
acteristics of Goldsmith's poetical and prose works ? Ife wrott
both poetry and prose beautifully^ his poetry beini^ in general very
lamentable and explanatory ^ and being Jive feet in length.

Of course some license may be allowed in questioning on a
familiar topic In review-questions, a little " skipping round "
may be permitted for practic'e in rapid grouping of ideas. In
fact the serial order should give place to the topical (page 1 74)
in all reviews for testing the thorough mastery of the work.
When a teacher has presented a subject rationally, questioned
the pupil into a perception of the meaning of the several parts,
assisted them into thinking the proper relations, correct method
demands that the pupil should now be able to analyze his mass
of facts, properly group the elements, in a word, exercise inde-
pendently the functions of analysis and synthesis. To lead to

the habit of connected thinking^ Questions should have
Oontinuity. (Page 170.)

(^) Adapted to Capacity. — In order to stimulate, questions
must be skillfully adapted to the capacity and attainments of
the pupils, that is, they must not be too easy or too difficult.
In either case, there can be no interest, and mind-wandering is
sure to follow (page 193, et seq.) As a general rule, properly
adapted and definite questions will not (a) include the answer,
or (b) suggest the answer, or (e) be answerable by a single word,
or (d) be unanswerable, or (e) be answerable by all. In the
case of one-word answers there are many exceptions, especially
in rapid review-lessons. But the safe, guiding principle is :
coMueted speuh msant tonmcted tkoughi (see page aao, et seq,)

MEFHOD OP INTERROGATION.

•49

(4) Due Proportion, — Questions should repeat the mi)ortant
facts or principles of a subject rather than unimportant details.
As the result of the analysis the central thought stands out
prominently in the teacher's mind, the minor thoughts are
arranged in proper relation according to their value, and all
irrelevant matter is excluded. Questioning ought to result in a
similar harmonious grouping of ideas in the minds of the learn-
ers. Question upon the points of the lesson ac-
cording to their importance, (page 202.)

(b) As to the Form of Questions.— What has been
said on the matter of questions will suggest the chief points
as to their form. A few of these may be noticed.

(1) Good Language, — To secure definiteness, the language of
questions must be concise, clear, and correct ; wordy, obscure,
and incorrect questions imply vague ideas, and lead to the
vagueness that it is the purpose of teaching to correct. Com-
paratively few teachers seem able to put questions in perfectly
definite language. Even those who are fairly successful teachers
would be astonished if their questions were reproduced verbatim
in written form. They would indignantly challenge the accur-
racy of the " report." We have known questioners to change
the form of a question three or four limes before its final
delivery, thus causing the class endless perplexity. Muddled

speech means muddled thought.

(2) Kii/ !>//.— Questions should be varied in form (i) to avoid
monotony, and (2) to suit the subject matter of the lesson.
Some teachers are the slaves of a changeless type of (}uestions;
they follow with fatal fidelity the same forms in fact-subjects,
( Elementary Geography, e, g.,) in thought-subjects (Grammar,
e. g.)y and in action-subjects (Drawing, etc). Monotony destroys
Interest.

(3) Questioner's own Words. — In general, questions should
be given in the teacher's own words. This demands thinkingt

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250

METHOD OF INTERROGATION.

5 tifi

and freshness of thought awakens interest. Do not be the
servile repeater of the set questions of secular text-book, or
Sunday-school Guide. It may be remaiked that. ii» the case of
words as well as of thought, the teacher is not to be a blind
follower of the limited rule " teach only what the child under-
stands." If the subject is within his reach, occasional " strange
words " may be wisely used. They are a stimulus. They are
explained by their connection with known words. We "ex-
plain words before using them ; " but, also, we explain words by
using them.

(4) Elliptical Questions. — This is the worst of all possible
forms, and should be rarely used.

(5) Topical and Serial. — It has already been pointed out
(page 220) that the serial order of questions should be followed
by the topical method.

Mode of Questioning. — A few words may be added on

the mode of putting questions, (i) Kftective class questioning is
the result of a judicious use of the individual and the class
methods, (2) In general, the questions should be addressed to
the class, the answers given by the individual. (3) Unless the
teacher is at fault, a question is not to be repeated; pupils must
attend; re|)etition of questions favours inattention. (4) As to
rapidity : At the beginning of the lesson, questions for the
grouping of ideas, for the adjusting of attention, may rapidly
follow one another. During the course of the lesson, while the
pui)il is forming relations, i. «?., thinki/n^ to the best of his ability,
reasonable time should be allowed for the answer. Finally, in
a review of the lesson, and in general reviews, question and
answer should follow in quick succession. (5 ) Mutual question-
ing is an ex' client test and stimulus. To put a good question
upon a subject, one must know it well. A pupil, knowing he
will be called on to put a question, is kept on the aleit, he is
attentive; and practice in questioning others helps to form the

,r -.-

METHOD OF INTERROGATION.

251

be the
)Ook, or
I case of

a blind
d under-
' strange
rhey art
We "ex
vords by

possible

.inted out
e followed

1 added on
stioning is
the class
dressed to
Unless the
lupils must
(4) As to
ns for the
lay rapidly
, while the
his ability,
Finally, in
estion and
.1 question-
id question
nowing he
leit, he is
o form the

habit of self-questioning, the attitude of the thinking mind
(page 238). (6) Wriiten Anszvers. There should be frequent
written examinations. From what has been said upon the rela-
tion of thought and language, it follows that written examina-
tions are an essential factor in the process of mind training.

IV. Matter and Form of Answers.

Under this head there is little to be said that is not given
almost expressly in our preceding studies upon questioning ; a
brief summary will suffice, (i) Good questioning secures good
answering, or, in other words, good teaching secures good
results. Thoughtful questions lead to definite thinking and
expression. The general characteristic of good answering is,
therefore, that it is the pupil's best thin ki fig expte^sed in the
pupil* s best words. (2) Hence, inaividuai answering is the rule,
class (or sumultaneous) answering, the exception. Class-
answering may sometimes be permitted in repetition, and in
reviews of familiar subjects; it may, at times, be useful in
encouraging the timid and animating the dull. But, for other
purposes, the method is misleading, and it extensively used,
exceedingly harmful. " It is astonishing," says Gladman,
" with what readiness boys can take their cue from one another;
so as to produce the appearance of unanimity, of a common
knowledge. The wise teacher, however, knows that such
apparently wide-spread skill is fallacious, and he will rarely
employ a method in his teaching which admits of such misinter-
pretation." (3) If an answer is wholly wrong, it is i)roof of
imperfect teaching, and the wise teacher will not hastily decide
that an answer is wholly wrong. In some subjects there is but
Uttle room for difference of Oi)inion, in others there is great
room. Consider a question as to the force of a word in a given
sentence, etc. The teacher who has his stereotyped answer, to
which all other answers must conform, represses, rather than pro-
motes, the pupil's self-activity. The pupil is fallible ; the teacher

25*

KINDERGARTEN WORK AND SELF-INSTRUCTION.

: ,: !

1'^

I v

is not infallible. (4) If an answer is partly right, and partly
wrong, it shows that the pupil is thinking, and the teacher, by
kind encouragement, and perhaps a judicious question or two,
is to guide the pupil into clearer light (5) Random answers
should have no place. If the teacher is master of his business,
they will never find place. Almost as rare will be the "Know —
but cannot tell " answer. The rule is : " Cannot tell,"
does not know. (6) written answers are of the highest
value. Oral examination is not enough ; for the best results
there must be frequent written examinations, (page 220).
They are an indispensable element in training. Not that
which goes into the eyes and ears of a student educates, but
that which comes out of him in oral and especially in written
form. No student can be certain that he has mastered a sub-
ject till he has reproduced it. This reproduction is the test of
knowledge, and of the power which comes from the acquisition
of knowledge.

Written examinations give a thorough mastery of the subject,
demand activity rather than passivity of the mind, and train to
the lucid expression of vigorous thought. " They are," said
Professor Jevons, " the most powerful means of training the in-
tellect." Examination is Education.

CHAPTER XI.

KINDERGARTEN WORK AND SELF-INSTRUCTION
IN PUBLIC SCHOOLS.

Grounds for Establishing Kindergarten Exer-
cises.

When properly carried out, the Kindergarten receives the child
at the age of three years, and applies the most efficient means
known, to secure an all-sided development. Wherever it is
practicable^ therefcure, school authorities should establish Kin-

'I i '

KINDERGARTEN WORK AND SELF-INSTRUCTION.

253

dergartens in connection with the public schools. We have
seen, in our psychology, that the soul is an organic unity — that
there are not independent — much less antagonistic — " faculties,"
but that all the so-called faculties are only different stages of
psychical development. It follows, therfore, that there is but
one science of education. There is not one set of prin-
ciples for the Kindergarten, another set for the Primary
schools, etc The principles of the Kindergarten are thoroughly
sound j they are in the line of true psychology. But ihey are
distinctive only in their application^ under specially favourable
circumstances^ to a certain stage of huttian development. In an
ideal system of education, there would be a Kindergarten de-
partment in every school. It is likely, however, that the
expense of establishing and keeping in operation fully equip-
ped Kindergartens, will operate for a time against their intro-
duction except in cities and towns. But cannot some of the
Kindergarten exercises, or at least exercises embodying Kinder-
garten principles, be imported into the public schools as at
present constituted ? May not all the children of the country
have a taste of what is calculated to make their early school
days happy, as well as give them a better education and at least
a touch of culture ?

Can provision be made in Public Schools for the
working of Kindergarten Principles and Methods ?

In order to answer this question, we must ascertain upon
what distinctive methods the Kindergarten mainly depends to
secure the aims of education in its three great departments.
Physical, Moral and Intellectual. We may then judge of the
adaptability of such methods and principles to the altered con-
ditions presented by the Public Schools.

1. Physical Education.— In the department of Physical
Education, the Kindergarten, recognizing the law that .'he mind
must be drawn away from the mere exercise as such, makes,

254

KINDERGARTEN WORK AND SELF-INSTRUCTION.

!^ It

elaborate provision under the disguise of plays of various
kinds, for securing strength of body, beauty of form and grace-
fulness of bearing. In addition to this, the constant handling of
material, and the various occupations of building, folding,
weaving, etc., give delicacy of touch, quietness of movement,
and deftness of hand.

The public schools, as at present constituted, have not the separate room
required for this training, nor lias the teacher the necessary time at his dis-
posal. Excepting, then, the manual dexterity secured to the pupil by the
exercises designed for intellectual development, it is doubtful whether much
more cm be done for physical training, than to (ply the calisthenics at
present common in the best Public Schools. In cities and towns, however,
by adopting the " Half- Time " system, time may be had for all the most
valuable Kindergarten methods for physical education.

2. Moral Education. — In the department of Moral Edu-
cation, it can scarcely be .said that the Kindergarten furnishes
any metJwd different from that of the schools. It has, how-
ever, many marked advantages, as, e. g. : {a) Before evil habits
have become fixed, the child comes under the influence of a
society whose moral code is moulded and guided by a teacher
familiar with all the ascertained laws of moral development. All
psycliology and all experience show how important is this early
training, (p. 72). {b) Much more time can be spared for devel-
oping sympathy which not only goes out in kindly acts towards
others, but is nlso the real basis of the moral feelings, (p. 121).
{c) The luill power is greatly strengthened by the constant em-
ployment of hand and brain in accomplishing the various kinds
of work proposed for intellectual development. The import-
ance of this hand training in educating the will, is very great.
For, the child, in controlling hand-movements, in fact all bodily
movements, is exercising the elements that enter into the
highest kind of self-control. Train eye, ear, hand, tongue, and
in the process the doing not only reacts on thinking — the
development of intelligence — it also contributes, in no sliglit
degree, to moral culture (p. 145). (d) 'V\\q pupil is inspired by

KINDERGARTEN WORK AND SELF-INSTRUCTION.

255

rarious
grace-
iling of
olding,
'ement,

ate room
t his dis-
)il by the
her much
henics at
however,
the most

)ral Edu-
furnishes
las, how-
il habits
nee of a
teacher
cnt. All
this early
for devel-
towards
(p. 121).
stant em-
us kinds
e import-
ry great,
lall bodily
into the
igue, and
ing— the
no sliglit
Ispired by

a spirit of order; patience is cultivated, habits of persistence
are acquired ; he learns to be " diligent in business/' gentle in
- manner, and mindful of the rights of others. He is all the
while gaining power to apprehend and appreciate the true, the
beautiful and the good.

With the exception of this strengthening of the will-power
and general development of the ethical nature by the employ-
ment of hand and brain an advantage peculiar to the ex-
ercises for intellectual development, it will be seen that in the
department of moral education, the superiority of the Kinder-
garten over the school is due rather to oportunity, than to any
peculiarity of method. We should keep in mind, however,
that the moral training resulting from Kindergarten exercises
for intellectual development, will be so much gain no moral
culture in the Pub.ic Schools. In fact, at this stage if develop-
ment, intellectual, moral, and physical culture, may be almost
considered as one.

3. Intellectual Education. — In the intellectual field, as-
suming development of power to be the chief work of the Kin-
dergarten, what is really the principle, which working by means
of the various exercises, draws forth and cultivates the mental
powers? On reflection, it will be found that it is the close

attention which the child is obliged to give in
order to perform the necessary movements in
various pleasing constructive employments, that
sets the mechanism of the senses in motion and
thus secures the development of power. The at-
tempt to do under such circumstances that each forward step
furnishes the necessary pleasurable stimulus for deeper attention
and further effort, will be found to be the source of most of the
good which characterizes the Kindergarten. The operation of
the same principle, secures skill, itself one of the ends of edu-
cation, since it is a product of intelligence. Once more, the
pupil learns to know by doing, and to do by knowing.

^56

KINDERGARTEN WORK AND SELF-INSTRUCTION.

Kindergarten, Rational.— From our psychology it seems
plain that, in true Kindergarten work, the laws of early psychical
development are closely followed. Instruction is based upon
the impulses ; the hunger of the senses is gratified ; the correla-
tive laws of knowing and doing are in continuous operation;
there is interest, natural and acquired, which secures non-vol-
untary attention ; the law of association works with effect, and
good habits result ; the constant working for some end develops

voluntary attention, the power of concentration ; from the very
beginning, in the actions with things, there are partitions and
constructions and designings and modellings, in a word, phys-
ical processes, which lead gradually to the conscious exercise
and development of the essential functions of mind, analysis
and synthesis ; in brief, since there is, under assumed favourable
conditions, the best possible means for the training of Sensa-
tion, Interest, Impulse, and of the mental Processes, there is in
that very fact, the best possible preparation for securing the
highest results in the development of perception, memory, im-
agination and thought, as well as of the Emotions and the Will.

The Beginnir.g of Wisdom.—^// the faculties, includ-
ing reasoning^ are the natural outgrowth of perception^or intuition,
(page 171)- — Train the observing powers, it is urged, because
perceived objects are simpler than laws and abstract relations,
and prior to them. But also, and especially, train perception,
because this training so touches all the mental powers, including
remembering and thinking, that they will afterwards appear as
naturally as blossom from plant and fruit from blossom.
" Teach a child to understand ; " teach a child to see, and he
will understand in due season. To the efficient, though perhaps
unconscious, carrying out of this principle, is due the success
of tiue Kindergarten instruction in developing the nature of the
child. It follows, too, that the efficiency of a system of education
depends on the efficiency of its primary education. A system which
is weak in this, is weak in all. Clearly, then, if the principles

KINDERGARTEN WORK AND SELF-INSTRUCTION.

"57

r it seems
psychical
;ed upon
e correla-
peration j
i non-vol-

iffect, and

i develops

n the very
;iti()ns and
rord, phys-
is exercise
id, analysis
favourable
y of Sensa-
, there is in
ecuring the
lemory, im-
d the Will.
\/iies, includ-
\or intuition,
[ed, because
\ct relations,
perception,
s, including
ts appear as
blossom.
see, and he
lugh perhaps
the success
ature of the
of education
lystem which
le principles

and methods of the Kindergarten are based on true psychology,
they should be introduced as far as possible into every Public
School. Training perception is training all the mental powers ;
therefore, let ample provision be made for the best possible
primary education, this is the Beginning of Wisdom
in every System of Education. (Page 130.)

Happily, many of the Kindergarten exercises which are
designed for the development of intellectual power and of skill,
and which incidentally, yet powerfully, aid in moral culture,
(page 145) readily lend themselves to the modifications neces-
sary to their introduction into Public Schools.

The expense attending their introduction will be light — insig-
nificant compared with the good that is sure to follow. The time
taken for direct instruction need not exceed half an hour a day
for first and second classes, and about three half-hour lessons a
week for the other classes. There cannot be a doubt that the
common branches will be learned with greater facility, and will
have a far higher educative value. Lastly, if a teacher has had
no special training for this work, he can easily qualify himself,
with the help of a good Kindergarten guide.

The modified forms of Kindergarten work now to be describ-
ed, have been found to work well. Under the altered circum-
stances, the teacher need not trouble himself much about the
particular order of presenting the exercises. The important
consideration is to keep up the interest, and for this purpose it
is best to have variety (page no). In dealing with those
employments requiring considerable manual dexterity, such as
slat-work, paper-folding, and mat-weaving^ the teacher is at first
apt to select too dfficult work. This will, however, be speedily
corrected by experience.

I. Blocks £Lnd Building.
In dealing with the blocks, prepare for each pupil two boxes
of thin material one 9^ x 4^^ inches, the other 6^$^ x 4^ inches,

»58

KINDERGARTEN WORK AND SELF-INSTRUCTION.

\\.i

inside measurement Into the shorter box which we shall desig-
nate (a), put 24 bricks, i6 squares, and 8 pillars.

Into the longer box which we shall designate (i)^ put 24
cubes, 12 half cubes and 24 quarter cubes.*

It is found that the various kinds of blocks here mentioned can be fur-
nished by an ordinary cabinet-maker at the rate of twenty-five cents per
hundred, and the boxes at the rate of hve cents each. Expense of material,
therefore, is not, as generally supposed, a very important consideration.

Ordinary Object Lessons.— Although it is the close

observation required to perforin the synthetic, or constructive
exercises, that furnishes the peculiar power of the Kindergar-
ten, it is well to do some work of the ordinary " object-lesson "
type. For example, having put into the hands of each pupil
box (^), let the teacher select eight cubes from his own box,
and form them into a large cube. At a signal from the
teacher the pupils do the same. This is the TAird Gift of
the Kindergarten.

By questioning the pupils, lead them to observe the number of
faces, the number of corners, the number of edges, in a cube.
The terms right-angle, square, face, surface, parallel, etc., may,
also, be learned in this connection.

Having examined the cube as a whole, divide it into two
equal parts, the pupils doing the same. By questions, the
pupils should be led to observe carefully the resulting regular
solids. Divide each of these halves again, and proceed as
before.

Make another division, and thus reduce the large cube to its
elements.

The object-lessons with the cube may now be applied to
give the pupils clear conceptions of the terms * half,' * quarter,*

* A brick is a block a X i X H inch.
A square is a block i X i X ^ inch.
A pillar is a bloc': a X ^ X ^ inch.
A cube ia a block i X t X i.

The half cube is formed by dividing a cube
diagonally. The quarter-cube by dividing
the half-cube into two equal tnangula<'
nieces. iV lUiuitratlon, page a&^

^g^^xf^^tyt

M|>MMHMK|MM£ta>HHtaM

KINDERGARTEN WORK AND SELF-INSTRUCTION.

«S9

'eighth,' and to make the pupils familiar with such useful facts
as the following :

(a) The whole equals two halves.

{i) The whole equals four quarters.

{c) The whole equals eight eighths.

(ii) A half equals two quarters.

(e) A half equals four eighths.

(/) A quarter equals two eighths, etc.

Illustration.

Again, having placed box * a* \n the hands
of the pupils, select from the one in your own
possession eight bricks, and form a cube.
This is the Fourth Gift of the Kindergarten-

By questions, lead the pupils to examine this closely, to
compare it with the cube formerly dealt with (Third Gift). Lead
theno to compare the bricks of which it is composed, with the
cubes of the Ihird Gift How many faces has each brick?

.,:i-

260 KINDERGARTEN WORK AND SELF-INSTRUCTION.

How many edges ? Each face is an oblong. Each face is a
parallelogram, etc., etc.

Again, having placed box '^' in the
hands of each pupil, let the teacher
select from the one in his own hands,
twenty-one whole cubes, six half-cubes,
and nine quarter cubes. Now form these
into a cube thus :

This is the Fi/f/i Gift of the Kinder-
garten. As in other cases, the pupils should be led by quei
tioning, to make the same close obser\ation upon this form,
and upon the blocks of which it is composed.

Again, having placed box ' a * in the
hands of each pui)il, select from the one
in your own possession eighteen bricks,
six pillars and twelve squares. Now form
these into a cube thus :

This forms the Sixth Gift of the
Kindergarten. Examine this form and
the blocks of which it is composed in the manner already indi-
cated.

Value of the Object Lesson Phase of Kindergarten Work, —
These object-lessons on the material, are not very interesting.
If the lessons be made long, or given very frequently, they may
become irksome. It would be a great mistake to give a long
course of such lessons before entering upon the constructive
exercises. Short lessons, however, given occasionally will be
uesful for the following reasons :

(a) They cultivate close observation.
(^) They make the pupils familiar with the material with
which they are working.

KINDERGARTEN WORK AND SELF-INf. RUCTION.

a6i

\ IS a

f que*
s form,

in the

the one

bricks,
ow form

oi the
)rra and
idy indi-

teresting.
^hey may
^e a long
tstructive
will be

jrial with

(t) They lead to a practical acquaintance with a large
number of geometrical forms and terms.

(d) They enlarge and enrich the pupil's vocabulary.

{e) They are a most valuable means of improving the
language of the pupils.

Constructive Exercises with Blocks.— Without per-
mitting the pupils to see how he does it, let the teacher build
upon the table some such object as this, representing a bed-
stead : See figure page 265.

Keeping the form screened from view by a map or other
means, arouse the curiosity of the little ones, to see the object
behind the screen. Their attention will be still further deep-
ened by informing them that after looking at the object a
very short time, they will have to make it (page no.) When
the teacher has by some such means as this, excited a deep
desire to see the object, and when he knows their fingers are
itching to begin work, let the screen be suddenly removed.
For a short time the object is contemplated in perfect silence.
Knowing that they are about to be called upon to form the
same object, their observation is keenly on the alert. The mind
swiftly compares the length with the breadth, notes the num-
ber and the kind of blocks used for the head and for the foot,
marks the kind of divided blocks used, etc. After the expira-
tion of a short time, sharply give the command " Work,** at
the same time replacing the screen.

If the teacher has successfully conducted the work up to
this point, it will be with a thrill of delight that the pupils
proceed to carry out this command. After a reasonable time
has been spent in attempting to form the object, the teacher
should give the signal to ** Stop work. While the pupils are
" in position," the teacher should pass along and examine the
work. It will probably be found that a considerable number
have failed. These are thus taught by experience that their

i62

KINDERGARTEN WORK AND SELF-INSTRUCTION.

I ^

observations were, after all, too careless, and that closer
attention must be given.

Those who have failed should have an opportunity to re-ex-
amine the object ; but the time given for this purpose should be
shorter than before. Having a keen sense of their former
failure, the pupils, as soon as the screen is raised, will make the
best possible use of their time. In a moment, attention will be
adjusted^ (page 53) the defects which caused their former failure,
will be remedied. All will wait impatiently for the occasion
to show that they are now able to do the proposed work.
The teacher gives the command " Work,** at the same time
replacing the screen. This time they do not fall. It is obvious
that exercises of this nature, repeated from day to day with
various kinds of material, must cultivate some of the most
important of the intellectual faculties.

In dealing with the more difficult forms, the teacher should
direct (page 236) the observations of the pupils and lake them
over the work by successive stages, as follows :

Placing the object before the class, the teacher proceeds to
question :

How many blocks form the width of the
seat?

How many the length of the seat ?

The seat is how many blocks high ?

The back is how many blocks high ?

What kind of blocks are used for the
foot rests?

What kind of blocks are used for the
arms?

After the object has been thoroughly examined as a whole, it
should be reduced to its constituent blocks, and then rebuilt by
the teacher and pupils, in successive stages thus :

«A

KINDERGARTEN WORK AND SELF-INSTRUCTION.

263

closer

I re-ex-

)uld be
former
ake the
will be
failure,
ccasion
d work,
le time
obvious
lay with
le most

p should
ike them

ceeds to

Ith of the

jat?
ligh?
ihigh?
for the

Id for the

whole, it
rebuilt by

The pupils being " in position," the teacher, in view of the

nrhole class, places in proper form, the eighteen whole blocks

for the seat. Then on the command, *' Work," the pupils take

the same step. The pupils resume position, and observe the

teacher take the next step. This may consist in forming the

back. On the command ** Work," the pupils carry the work

through the same stage. The pupils again come to position

and observe the teacher take the next step, which may be placing

the arms. At the command " Work," the pupils take the same

step, etc. etc

It is obvious, that the work of placing the material in position will be
facilitated by marking oflF the tops of the pupils' desks, into inch squares.
This is most readily done by means of a little toothed wheel fixed in a
handle. It can be made by any blacksmith, and will cost but a few cents.

Language Training- — After the pupils can readily construct the given
form, it should be employed as a means of still further cultivating the
imagination, and of training in the use of language. For this purpose,
the teacher should tell the pupils a story, in which the object just built,
is made to play an important part. The imagined incidents should,
of course, be made as interesting as possible. When all know the incidents,
pupils should be successively called upon to relate the story. This effort
on the part of the pupil at once lays bare the defects in his language. A
very gentle criticism by the teacher should be followed by a renewed effort,
and so on.

After the pupils can tell the given story fairly well, they should be
encouraged to "make up " stories in connection wiih the object under con-
sideration. Attempts of this nature have an educative value distitut from
those just described. They appeal directly and powerfully to the creative
imagination. Of course, the circumstance that the story is the product of
the pupil's imagination, does not reduce its value as a means of training in
language.

Desk Work, or Self-instruction for the Little

Ones. — While the teacher is employed with other classes, the
little children may be usefully employed as follows : —
(a) They may repeat the forms already taught
{h) They may imitate forms placed upon the table in full view.

■ '.i i

264

RtNt>ERGAftTfeN WOkk AND SEttr-lNStHUCTION.

.!t

(d) They may be left entirely to the dictates of their own
fancy as to forms.

(e) They may write some of the stories which have been
told in connection with the forms.

(/) They may invent stories.

It will be found, that the self-instruction here and elsewhere indicated
in these pages, will simplify the difficulty of keeping order. The pupils
become too deeply absorbed in these pleasant occupations, to give trouble ;
and thus, much of the school-room worry disappears.

The number of forms that may be thus treated is unlimited.
Teachers should examine the illustrations given in " The Kin-
dergarten Guide " No. 2 by Maria Kraus-Boelte and John
Kraus. The forms on pages 265-6 are given by way of sug-
gestion :

Forms of Beauty with Blocks.— After the pupils

have been led to understand the simple underlying principle
of the balance of parts^ they may in a great measure be left to
themselves in this part of the work.

They may be led to apprehend
balance of parts, thus :

the

What form is this ? I shall now place a
brick here (placing it at the top) :

11!

We now have this form :

Where should we place another brick to
balance the form? The pupils will suggest
that there must be one placed at the bottom.

The teacher may now say " I shall place
a brick in the middle on the right side ;

where should another go to balance the figure ? " etc. etc

KINDERGARTEN WORK AND SELF-INSTRUCTION.

265

1 i

rick to

suggest
ottom.

I place
side ;
tc.

ff=Ff .

2Cy6 KINDERGARTEN WORK AND SELFlNSTRUCTIuN.

!:'*

KINDKKGARTEN WuRK AXO SELF-INSTRUCTION.

267

Wlien the teacher has thus created, at the dictation of the
pupils, a number of forms such as the following, it will be found

— — — p - — ___

— — — — I ,

—

that the pupils will of their 07i>n accord ai)ply the principle
of balance of parts. They will now amuse themselves in mak-
ing symmetrical figures with the blocks.

By way of suggestion, however, the teacher should occasion-
ally place a new design before them for imitation. Thus, it
ivill be found, that forms such as some of those on pages 272-3,
(See also Kindergarten Guide) thrown in by the teacher, will
prove very stimulating :

Value of Exercises. — (i) They greatly strengthen the
power of attention.

268

KINDERGARTEN WORK AN'D StLF-IXSTRUCTION.

(2) They are peculiarly fitted to impart energy and quickness

to the powers of observatioti.

(3) They are a powerful means of strengthening the memory.

(4) The very imperfections of the forms develop constnictive

imagination. The imagination corrects all defects in
the rude representation.

(5) *The constant attempt to express in material forms the

conceptions of the mind, strengthens the will-
power.

(6) *The attempt to do while the mind is stimulated on so

many sides, imparts skill or manual dexterity.

(7) The practice of connecting the object built, with interest-

ing stories, can be made the means of cultivating
both the constructive and the creative phase of ima-
gination.

(8) The telling of the stories mentioned in (7) under the

guidance of the teacher, improves the pupils in oral
composition.
(^) The Forn of Beauty furnish a powerful instrument of
aesthetic culture.

II. The Tablets.

The Tablets should be formed of thin pieces of wood well
seasoned. They should be of the following forms :

(i) The square, one inch to the side.

(2) The equilateral triangle, one inch to a side.

(3) The right angled isosceles triangle, each of the sides con-
taining the right angle being one inch.

(4) The right angle scalene triangle, one of the sides con-
taining the right angle being two inches and the other one inch
long.

■^The benefit claimed in Nos. 5 and 6 ■will be evident upon a slight examination of
those kinds of work more especially designed for hand-training as Blat-WOrk, XMX-

weaviiig, paper-folding, etc.

KINDERGARTEN WORK AND SELF-INSTRUCTION.

269

(5) The obtuse angled isosceles triangle, the side opposite
the obtuse angle being two inches long.

The following has been found to be a good arrangement of
colours.

(i) The squares red on one side, and white on the other.

(2) The equilateral triangles, yellow on one side and purple
on the other.

(3) The right angled issoceles triangle, red on one side and
green on the other.

{4) The right angled scalene triangle, one side orange and
the other blue.

(5) The obtuse angled isosceles triangle, one side black the
other indigo.

Remark. — It is found that all kinds of tablets can be supplied by a good
cabinet-maker at the rate of sixteen cents per hundred. For Public School
purposes, it is recommended that a sufficient number be procured to furnish
each pupil with about 40 of each kind. A little paste-board box is all that
is required to hold the tablets used by each pupil.

Object Lessons on the Tablets. — As in the case of

the blocks, before the constructive exercises with any particular
tablet are entered upon, the tablet should be made the basis of
an object lessori.

Thus, b> means of questions, the pupils should be led to
count the sides and compare their lengths. The ideas repre-
sented by the words, parallel, perpendicular, oblique, etc., should
be elicited. The different kinds of angles should be con-
sidered, etc.

Just as time permits, these object lessons should be extended
beyond the particular tablet to the geometrical forms that can
be made with it.

Thus, supposing the pupils to have mastered the
equilateral triangle, the rhombus may be considered,
and the pupils called upon to form this figure with two equi-
lateral triangles.

270 KINDERGARTEN WORK AND SELF-INSTRUCTION.

The trapezoid may be considered
and the pupils called upon to form
this figure with three triangles. The
rhomboid with four, etc., etc.

| -jggH Again supposing the right angled scalene triangle to
^^H ^'^ve been carefully considered, the pupils may be
called upon to form an oblong with two of these tri'
angles.

A large obtuse angled triangled with two.

A rhomboid with two.

A trapezum with two.

A rhomboid with four.

A trapezoid with four.

After the ol)tuse angled triangle has been discussed .

An equilateral triangle with three.

A trapezium with three.

KINDERGARTEN WORK AMD SELF-I XSTRUCTION. 27 I

A trapezoid witli three.

A rhomboid with four.

A large obtuse-angled triangle with four.
A hexagon with six, etc. etc. :

It is evident that work of this kind will make the pupils very Aimiliar
with the forms dealt with in elementary geometry. Tlie teacher nuist not for-
get, however, that the cJiief value of Kindergarten work centres in the
constructive exercises.

Constructive Exercises with Tablets. — The mode

of dealing with the tablets will naturally follow the same general
lines as that with the blocks.

As the forms made with the tablets represent the pictures of
things rather than the iJmigs tJiemselves, they can be exhibited
to the pupils upon a vertical surface better than upon a
horizontal one, such as a table. The following simple method
is found to answer the purpose remarkably well :

(i) Hang against tlie wall a board 3J2 ft. x 2^ ft., piinted of a light
drab color, and ruled or pricked into inch scjuares like the tops of the pupils
desks,

27a

KINDERGARTEN WORK AND SELF-INSTRUCTION.

(2) Let the teacher set aside fifty or sixty of each kind of tablet for his
own use, and have these furnished with little brads. The brads should pro-
ject from the centre of each tablet about an eighth of an inch. In order to
make provision for the different colors, half of each kind of tablet should
have the brad on one side, and half on the other.

The teacher can now with the utmost ease present any desired form.

Self-Instruction with the Tablets.

(a) The children may repeat with the tablets any form already
taught, and then f/raw the same upon their slates, or in their
Kindergarten drawing books. This change of work, without
the intervention of the teacher, — is found most valuable in
securing long continued attention.

(d) They may produce new forms, either exhibited by the
teacher, or dictated by their own fancy. When such forms
have been completed with the tablets, they should be drawn, as
mentioned in the foregoing paragraph.

Remark. — Of course this kind of desk work, answers equally well for
the work with the sticks, to be described hereafter.

The forms that may be thus treated, are inexhaustible. The
teacher should examine " The Kindergarten Guide " No. 3, by
Maria Kraus-Boelte, and John Kraus. Those given on page
273 are suggestive.

In dealing with the Forms of Beauty, those on page 274 are
given by way of suggestion :

III The Sticks.

Each child should be supplied with a number of square
sticks such as are used in the Kindergarten. Some of these
should be one inch long, some two inches, some three, some
four, and some five. They will be much more interesting to the
pupils, if colored. Such sticks are very inexpensive, and may be
obtained from any dealer in Kindergarten material.

It has already been pointed out how the blocks and the
tablets may be used, as the means of making the pupils familiar

■ii

KiNDERGAkTKN WORK AND SELF-INSTRUCTION.

for his
lid pro-
>rder to
should

ilready
1 their
urithout
able in

by the
i forms
•awrif as

well for
The

|o. 3» by

n page
l274are

square
)f these
^e, some
ig to the

maybe

id the
familiar

74 KINDERGARTEN WORK AND SELF-INSTK JCTION.

KINDERGARTEN WORK AND SELF-INSTRUCTION.

«75

mth geometrical forms. The sticks furnish peculiar facilities
for repeating and extending such instruction.

Thus, the little ones may be called upon to form with sticks
right angles, obtuse angles, acute angles, polygons, heptagons,
hexagons, etc., etc.

The teacher must, however, as in the case of the blocks, or
the tablets, exercise the same care to prevent such lessons
becoming irksome.

The sticks also furnish excellent material for the study of
numbers, each pupil performing the fundamental arithmetical
operations for himself It cannot be claimed, however, that
this method is peculiar to the Kindergarten, or that the sticks
are superior to other counters.

Constructive Exercises with the Sticks.— In order
to represent the forms to the class, the teacher should have a
portion of the blackboard, ruled into two-inch squares, the
lines being formed with white paint, and as thin as can be
seen by all the pupils. Upon these lines, the teacher may
easily exhibit by means of the ordinary blackboard crayon, any
form which he desires the pupils to produce by means of sticks
upon the lines forming the checkered surface of their desks.

Tne following forms are suggestive : See page 276. Teachers
should examine " The Kindergarten Guide," No. 4, by Maria
Kraus-Boelte and John Kraus.

Kindergarten Drawing.

It is obvious that the sticks are merely embodied lines. The
mode of dealing with part of the work, therefore, needs no ex-
planation. The following forms are suggestive : See page 277.

IV. Exercises for Hand Training.
F »r Public School purposes, perhaps the most valuable em-
ploviuonts are Slat Interlacing, Paper Folding, and Mat Weav-
ing. These furnish an almost endless variety of choicest ezer-

276 KINDERGARTEN WORK. AND SELF-INSTRUCTIOX.

ii:1:

■I I

;l-

fti.

^'xt

^"^

" ^

1 ~V'-

i± -L

tr .Th

1 i
1 \- -

i ■ -«

X. i nnuuwi l ll—a II ■» JMl "i ' ' l i jia

KINDERGARTEN WORK AND SELF INSTRUCTION. ij"

«7«

KINDERGARTEN WORK AND SELF-INSTRUCTION.

dses for training the hand. They are, at the same time, fiilly
equal to any of the other employments as a means of mental
training. Therefore, their value' can scarcely be overestimated.

Slat Interlacing. — Slat interlacing consists in making
forms by means of interlacing thin elastic wooden slats. For
the purpose here contemplated, those ten inches long and two-
fifths of an inch wide, are best. A number sufficient to supply
each pupil with about sixteen, should be provided. They are
inexpensive and may be obtained from any dealer in Kinder-
garten material. These slats are well adapted to give instruc-
tion in geometrical forms, but as these have received sufficient
consideration in dealing with other material, it is best to proceed
at once with the exercises for hand-training. In dealing with
the simpler forms, the following method is found to work well :

The teacher, having made with the slats set apart for his own
use, a number of patterns of the particular form he requires
to have imitated, distributes them among the pupils for in-
spection. After the lapse of a short time, these should be col-
lected, and the command given ** to work." Those wno fail
should have another opportunity, but the time allowed for ex-
amination should be shortened, etc.

For the more difficult forms, the work should be divided into
a number of stages, as in the case of dealing with blocks.

The teacher will be in a much better position to give in-
struction in this department of work, (in fact, in a// depart-
ments) if he will take the trouble to read some of the little
Kindergarten works on Slat Interlacing (Number 4 of the
" Kindergarten Guide " by M. Kraus-Bolte and J. Kraus will
give all that is required.)

The following forms are offered by way of suggestion.*
See page 279.

* Slat Interladng furnishes one of the best forms of " desk work" for the pupils wliile the
teacher It engaged with other classes. It should consist in imitating forms distribated hj
the teacher. Sinoe in this ease they are at liberty to k)ok at the spedmeM as often as
I aay be somewhat diflScult

oe, fully
' mental
timated.

making
ts. For
ind two-
[> supply
rhey are
Kinder-
instruc-
iufficient
proceed
ing with
rk well :

' his own
requires

for in-

be col-

¥no fail

for ex-
led into
s.

I give in-

depart-

le little

of the

^us will

estion.*

> wliile the

(ibiited by

often as

KINDERGARTEN WORK AND SELF-INSTRUCTION. 279

28o

KINDERGARTEN WORK AND SELF-INSTRUCTION.

Paper Folding. — For the older First Book pupils, the
employments of Slat Interlacing, Paper Folding, and Mat
Weaving are peculiarly appropriate. They make a greater
demand upon the powers of observation and reflection, than do
the exercises with the blocks and tablets, while they give
a most excellent hand-training. The peculiar value of the
occupations just named for securing manual dexterity depends
in a considerable measure upon the circumstance, that the ex-
ercises permit of any desired gradation in point of difficulty.
Thus, some of the simpler work, may be performed by a child
of five years, while the more dificult forms fairly tax the powers
of pupils of eight or ten.

For Paper Folding, the teacher should provide sheets of paper four inches
square. Manilla paper wliich is tough and of various colors is best for the
purpose. Any dealer in stationary can supply the laig-, sheets of Manilla
paper. The cutting of these to the proper size presents but little difficulty.

The forms here given will suggest much useful work, but teachers desir-
ing to introduce this admirable occupation should procure " Steiger's
Designs for Paper Folding."

PAPER-FOLDING.

Having pl?.ced in the hands of each child one of the small folding-sheets,
the teacher takes a sheet of the same form, but so large that its foldings
may be readily seen by all the pupils (say 8 inches square. ) Having secured
close attention to her movements, the teacher brings two of the opposite
sides together and smooths the paper. At the command "work" the
pupils take the same step. The teacher now brings the opposite sides
together, smoothing the paper as before. At the command "work," the
pupils carry the work through the same stage.

When opened, the sheet presents this appearance :

Eig. I.

KINDERGARTEN WORK AND SELF-INSTRUCTION.

281

s, the
i Mat
greater
lan do
r give
of the
spends
he ex-
hculty.
I child
powers

ir inches
,t for the
Manilla
iifficulty.

vc% desir-
Steiger's

Now, bringing the opposite corners over each other and smoothing, the
sheet presents this appearance :

Fig. 2.

1 Tie pupils should not be permitted to advance to the construction
exercises in Paper-Folding, till they can neatly and quickly secure the
creases shown in Fig. 2.

First Basis. — The teatiher having ascertained that all the pupils have
creased their papers, she takes her large sheet creased in the same way,
turns the corners upon the centre, and smooths the paper. At the com-
mand "work," the pupils do the same with their sheets. All, now, have
in their hands, this form :

g-sheets,
foldings
> secured
opposite
rk" the
ite sides
rk." the

^- A

Fig- 3. (First Basis.)

From' this form, other forms are made in endless variety. A form from
which others are made is called a basis. Fig. 3, shows the First Basis in
Paper-Folding.

Derived form, No. i. — Let the teacher see that all the pupils have Basis
No I in their hands. Now, taking the same form, (large) she turns the

2S2

KINDERGARTEN WORK AND SELF-INSTRUCTION.

corners back on the middle of the our sides o( square and smooths the
paper. At the command "work," the pupils do the same. This gives us
the following form •

Fig. 4, (Derived Form, No. i.)

Derived Form, No. 2. — Let the teacher see that all the pupils have
" Derived Form No. i " in their hands. Now, taking the same form,
(large) she simply bends in the corners. At the command "work," the
pupils do the same. This gives us the following form :

lii:

Fig. 5, (Derived Form No. 2.)

Forms, Endless in Variety. — This system of producing new forms by
slightly modifying old forms, may be carried on indetinitely. As other
bases may be assumed each as prolific as the one we have denominated
First Basis, it is obvious that Paper-Folding is as rich in the matter of
Torm? as any of the other Kindergarten occupations.

K'gMia.'>Arai

ISP

Kindergarten work and self-instruction. 283

Forms Suggested. — The following forms produced from First Basis are
given by way ol suggestion :

ns by
other
minated
.atter of

Harmonious Blending of Colors. — After the pupils have had some prac-
tice in producing forms from a single sheet, they should be directed to take
two or more sheets of different, but harmonious colors, and laying them
over each other fold as if one sheet. * This blending of colors adds, wonder-
fully, to the beauty of the forms and therefore to the interest in the exercises.

Paper' Folding as Desk-Work. — Paper- Folding opens up a magnificent
field for Self-instruction.

(i) Pupils may be permitted to reproduce at pleasure forms already
taught.

(2) They may be allowed to invent new forms.

(3) They may produce particular forms demanded by the teacher. For
tliis purpose the teacher should make the required forms, with large sheets,
and so place them that they may be readily seen by all the pupils.

Note. — Permissions to blend colors, should always be granted the
pupils when engaged in Desk-work.

Mat-Weaving. — This occupation so interesting and use-
ful to children, consists of weaving strips of colored paper into
a leaf of paper differently colored. For this purpose the leaf,
with the exception of a margin, is cut into strips, and the
weaving is performed by means of needles of peculiar construc-
tion. A glance at the diagrams given below will clearly indicate
the nature of the employment. The teacher's power of apply-
ing this admirable means of training will be greatly increased by
examining ** Steiger's Designs for Mat-Weaving.

384

KINDERGARTEN WORK AND SELr-INSTRUCTION.

•'> -it

t'j

Mat-Weaving furnishes an occupation for Seat Work unsur-
passed in excellence, by any of the other departments of work.

The following diagrams are given by way of suggestion : See
page 285.

The "Modified Forms" Under More Favorable

Oonditions.

For Public School purposes, it is believed that the exercises already
outlined, are sufficiently varied. Without any change whatever in the
present school arrangements at least tomf of them may be introduced.
Where the teacher is much pressed for time, they will still be found of great
utility as "Desk Work." It is found, however, that in large graded
schools a much better plan is tO make room for them by adopting the
Half-Time System. By this systQpti, the pupils in the First Book
take only pari of each half-day for the re^jular work laid down in the
Public School programme, leaving the remaining part for other exercises.
To illustrate how the arrangement affords the necessary firm for Kinder-
garten work in large Schools, let us suppose that there are two separate de-
partments doing First Book work, each department provided with a teacher
employed soMy upon the regtdar work of the programme. Now, for the
pupils of these two departments, let us suppose a Kindergarten room with
a teacher capable of doing Kindergarten work. Let us suppose the pupils
of the two departments first mentioned divided into two sections, a junior
and a senior section.

In the morning, the juniors of both rooms pass into the Kindergarten
iepartment, and the seniors into the rooms for ordinary work. After
intermission, a change takes place, the seniors passing into the Kinder-
garten room, and the juniors into the room for ordinary work.

It is found that this arrangement gives time, not only for the employ-
ments described in the foregoing pages, but for those Kinfiergarten exercises
designed for physical and moral training. The teacher of the Kindergarten
department, not being held responsible for the pupils' ability to pass the
promotion examination, turns kindly to those subjects on the Public
School programme which are too often neglected. Thus the cultivation of
the voice by simple songs, object lessons, and oral composition receive
due attention.

i iwpjiii i wan i aw

KINDEUGARTEN WORK AND SELF-INsTRUCTION. 285

■VV-V-VAV-

V^-V."

■;■■■■■■■■. V---V .

*^^«-"^^— ^B— ■^^j— ^^— ™

.■t'

S86 UNDBROARTEN WORK AND SBLP-INSTRU(TION.

Results Manifested.

In schools in which these modified forms of Kindergarten
work have been adopted, the following results have been clearly
manifest :

(a) The pupils have a much higher degree of general intelli-
gence.

(i) They have a greater power of concentration.

(d) They do better in arithmetic, getting the first ideas more
readily, and also conceptions of fractions.

(e) They learn more easily the forms of letters and words,
and hence reading comes easier.

(/) The exercises have completely displaced the inveterate
idea that school is a pleasant place to go from.

(g) The little ones being delighted with the school, the
interest of parents is awakened ; and the interest of the parents
helps " the teacher to make the school."

Self-Instraction in Oommon Work.

Beproduction. — With the kindergarten exercises may be introduced
much desk-work in connection with the ordinary lessons. The importance
of " doing " in primary education has been often pointed out. Bepioduc-
tion is the test of self-activity. And hence every lesson should be
made, »s far as possible, the occasion of self'instruction. It is of the utmost
importance that during working hours, a// /^ classes thould ie ahvays at
definite vn^Ji' In a properly managed rural school, as good results can be
produced as in any graded school ; because, from the force of circum«
stances, the law of self-education has a chance to operate ; pupils must help
themselves, and self-reliance must, to some extent, be cultivated. In a
graded school, where each teacher has but one class, there is, in general, too
much teaching and too little independent work. The teacher is most of
the time teaching and the pupils are most of the time trusting : with the
ever-present help of the teacher they lose, or never fully acquire, the spirit
of 8elf*help. But in rural schools much time must either be given to self*
instruction, or wasted in idleness. Let every teacher of a country school
make provision for having all his pupils always at work, and, in real educa*
tional resolti, he may challenge comparison with the best graded school*

KINDERGARTEN WORK AND SELF-INSTRUCTION.

287

;arten
learly

itelli-

MTords,

Iterate

o\, the
>arents

Preparation of Lesson Provides for Self-Instruction.— The

advanced classes can easily be kept employed. But for all classes, sclMn-
struction work should be carefully considered and properly prescribed.
Hap«hazard suggestions given on the spur of the moment, are all but use-
less. Definite work should be assigned for a definite purpose. Work given
merely as " busy" wu.k, from a vague idea that youthful hands ought to be
doing "something," is the futile expedient of a feeble teacher. But work
prescribed for a definite result in self-instruction is of the highest value. In
educative results it is the most profitable work done in the school. There-
fore, an important part of the honest teacher's preparation for every lesson
will be fo determine the amount^ the furpou^ and the plan 0/ the necessary
self-instruction exercises,

. The teacher will have but little difficulty in assigning such work on the
ordinary lessons of the day, and so interspersing thetn with the kindergar-
ten exercises which have been described that they will not fail to be inter-
esting, and, therefore, profitable.

1. Writing and Drawing. — Children should begin writing and drawing
u soon as they enter school. Kindergarten drawing, the exercises accom-
panying the primary readers, and easy sketches of familiar things, will
supply much desk-work. The sooner a child acquires some facility in writ-
ing the sooner he is ready to reap all the benefit! of self-instruction.

2. Reading. — In learning to associate the sound and form of a letter, the
child should make the letter, and should write the word when the letters of
it have been learned. He learns the sounds, e,g.^ of d, r, /, and fixes their
forms in his mind by writing them separately and together in the word cat.
Even ability to rule his slate or paper neatly requires much attentive practice.

3. When a pupil has become familiar with some of the letters and their
powers, he may be set to select the letters which form the names of objects
presented in pictures. For example, from the picture of a pan, he may
be asked to select the letters and write as neatly as he can the word, pan.

4. The child should write all the new words of a lesson, and, as soon as
possible, should have practice in forming easy sentences from given words.

5. He should copy short sentences, especially proverbs, gems of poetry,
etc., upon which interesting lessons have been given, and which it is wise
to have committed to memory.

6. After a few exercises in telling stories from pictures — under the gnid*
ance of the teacher — it affords good practice to leave the pupil entirely to
his own perception and imagination in interpreting suitable pictoics.

i:^Hi

288

KINDERGARTEN WORK AND SELr-INSTRUCTlON.

7. Children are alvraya interested in stories told by the teacher, and the
reprodnction of such stories 11 a valuable exercise.

Arithmttu. — From the beginning, arithmetic should supply useful exam>
pies for desk-work. For example :

1. There may be practice in making and varying the number-forms with
blocks, or other counters, and on slates, e.g,^ difTcrcnt forms for five,
six, etc.

2. There may be practice in writing down the sums of pairs of numbtr^
and the differences o^ pairs, first in words, then in figures ; e.g., X \ '• \
four and two are six. Then 4+2 = 6, 6-2=4, ^^c Also in formal
additions, of numbers, by means of figures, e.g.^ 2 + I -(■3 = 6, tlie addends
being arranged as in common addition.

3. After numerous problems have been solved by means of number-
forms, there may be practice in making up easy problems, such as the
teacher has given ; for example: Charlie has 6 cents and he pays 2 cents for
a pencil for his sister, how much has he left ? Willie has six turkeys and
sells two of them for three dollars, and the rest at a dollar a pair, huw
much money does he receive altogether? Several columns of immbers
may be given, the sum of no column exceeding 6 : «.g.^

I 2 3
3 2 1
312

2130
I 2 1 2

3314

2 tens a

3 tens ss
I tens =

30
10

6 tens ^ 60

4. Similarly, pupils maybe asked to tell all they can about e.g., the num-
ber six : five and one are six, (5 + 1=6); two and four are six (2 +4 = 6),
etc. There are three twos in six ; there are two threes in six, etc. And co
on with the pictures for larger numbers ; as, e.g.^ twenty represented by

four ♦ How many fives ? How many fours ? How many twos, etc.
♦ ♦

5. In a similar way, such practice may lead to the mastery of the mul-
tiplication table: e.g.x

♦ ♦ ♦ Once 3 is 3.

4 ^ ^ Twice 3 is 6, etc., etc
The foregoing are simply thrown out as suggestions. The thoughtful
teacher, who prepares his lessons, will be able to present an endless variety
of interesting self-instruction work. The rule is : All at WOrk, and al*

ways at work.

Note. — ^The Kinder-Garten Guide (which has been referred to) ought to
be in every teacher's hands; Published by E. Steiger & Co., from whom al]
sorts of Kinder-garten material can be had at reasonable rates.

OUTLINE METHODS IN SPLCIAL SUBJECTS.

289

CHAPTER XIII.

OUTLINE METHODS IN SPECIAL SUBJECTS.

I. Geography.

1. Objects of the Study. — Apart from its practical utility Geography
when properly taut^ht, n(T<jrds an excellent means of mental cliscii>!ine and
general culture. It appeals to (he imagination, strengthens the memory,
and stimulates the reasoninij powers by inducing the habit of discriminating
facts and forming real relations. It supplies invaluable information about
innumerable familiar objects and aspects of nature, and excites an interest
in these that gives a new charm to every country walk.

2. Preparatory Object Lessons —Object Lessons on plants, ani-

mals and minerals, should be begun as soon as the pupil enters school, and
may be contin led throughout the whole course. An object ks^on for geo-
graphical purposes may have more of the character of an information lesson
(imparling A\ct-lore). Such lessons shoul I include the geoi;i;iiihical classi-
fication of animals and plants, as for example those of the Hot Region,
those of the Temperate Region and those of the Cold Region. Those
animals and plants which do not come under the observation of the chil-
dren, should receive most attention.

3. Cardinal Points of Compass.— (i) Sun at A^<v«.— Draw atten-
tion to the position of tl\e sun at noon and inform the pupils that when we
face the sun at that hour, we look toward the South, and that our backs, are
to the North, the left hand to the East and the right hand to the West.

(2) Sun at Riung and Setting. — Inform the pupils that the sun rises
in the East and sets in the West.

(3) Shadow 0/ Stick. — Set up a stick about four feet long in a vertical
position in the yard. At noon the shadow points North and South.

(4) Diagram upon Floor. — Draw upon the floor a long line pointing
North and South. Bisect this by another of the same length, pointing East
and West. Causing a pupil to take the centre, give directions **Go North,"
"Go South," "Go East," in quick succession. Now, put in lines for the
intermediate directions and proceed as before. Again — Place a map
directly over the diagram with the top to the North. Now, after resting
an instant the end of the pointer upon the central part of the map, move it
towards the sides, the pupils describing the movement as N, S, E, &c., <tc.
Inform the pupils that it is for convenietice we hang the map against the wall.

290

OUTLINE METHODS IN SPECIAL SUBJECTS.

4. Developing Idea of Map. — (l) Boundaries. — Let the teacher
secure the assistance of the class in drawing a plan of the school-room floor,
marking the place of the doors, windows, etc. This plan may be drawn first
upon the floor, then the pupils should draw it upon their slates. Deal with
the school yard in the same manner.

(a) Scale in Maps. — The teacher draws a horizontal line about two feet
1 )ng upon the board, and says " Let us call this the North side of the room.**
" Who will come to the board and draw lines for the other sides ? " The
sides being drawn, the teacher calls upon others to mark the places for the
doors, windows, desks, etc. The teacher then draws a horizontal line «»//^
foot long and says, " Let us call this the North side of the room ; " " Who
will come to the board and put in the other sides?" Proceeds as before.
Next a Wnt/our inches long is drawn and the teacher calls this the North
side and proce'^'ds as in the other case. The pupils thus see that the school
room can be represented by pictures of different sizes.

(3) The teacher hands a boy a foot rule and asks him to measure the
North side and the East side of the room. Supposing it is found that the
measurements are 20 feet and 24 feet, the teacher says *■' If I call every foot
one inch, how many inches long will be the lines to represent those sides ? "
Let these be drawn upon the board, etc. Now let another pujiil take the
foot rule and find the length of the teacher's desk. Supposing it proves
to be 5 feet, get the pu.inls to decide that it will take a line 5 inches long to
represent it in the plan. The school \ard may now be represented, taking
one inch to represent a yard. (These processes employ child's own
activity, pp. 129, seq. ; they define fundamental ideas, pp. 80-81 ; they
base representation on presentation, pp. 93-94 : they connect the new with
the old, p. 171.)

6- Definitions of Natural Divisions of Land and Water.—

(1) Pupils to form Definitions. — Be careful that the thinj^s defined are
thoroughly understood, and that the pupils as far as possible form the defini-
tions for themselves. (Page 49.)

(2) Presenlative to Representative. — From adjacent hill lead the pupil to
the conception of a mountain. From well known creek, to the idea ex-
pressed by " river." (Page 74.)

(3) Mouhiin,]-Boar(i Representations, — Letting the blue surface of the
mculding-board represent the sea, form islands, capes, peninsulas, etc.,
with river sand.

(4) Pictorial Representations. — Lead the pupils to examine pictorial re>
presentation of islands, bays, capes, etc.

O'JTLINE METHODS IN SPECIAL SUBJECTS.

291

per.—

Id are
iefini-

[pil to
ex-

If the

1 etc.,

lire-

6. Map Notation* — The pupils should be taught to read the map as
one does the newspaper. Many of the facts given in most so-called des-
criptive parts of geographical text-books, are clearly stated upon the map
and do not need further expression. In order that the pupils may feel at
home with a map, they must be familiar with the manner of representing
not only capes, bays, peninsulas, towns, etc., but plateaus, lowlands, etc.

The pupils should be led to discover for themselves th« important physi-
cal features of each country. This will compel him to think while studying
the map, and lead to self-activity and independence of researcli. (Pages 92
and 105.)

7. Developing Ideas of the Earth's Shape and Size.— (0 shape

of the Earth. — Let the teacher provi'le peas, marbles, ora iges, or other
spherical bodies. Holding the marble and the pea up to view, "In what
respect do they resemble each other? " (Shape). " In what respect do the
orange and the ball resemble each other?" The marble and the orange?
So, too, this globe (school-globe) resembles the world in shape, (Page 58.)

(2) Sitt of tlie Earth. — How long would it take a man to walk around
it? How long would it take a train running forty-five miles an hour to
run around it, etc. ?

8. Basic Ideas in Mathematical Geography.— (1) Poles, Axis,

Equator, Latitude, etc. — Causing an onlinary black globe to spin, call on
pupils to draw a line through those points upon the surface which move
most quickly. The line drawn through those points represems the equator.
"What points move most slowly?" These two points are the poles.
The straight line joining these is calleil the axis. All points between the
equator and the North Pole are said to be in North Latitmle. All points
between the equator and the South Pole are said to be in South Latitude.
Lead the pupils to see the necessity of lines of latitude and lines of longi-
tude, by asking them to describe the iio-,ition of points made with the crayon
upon the surface of the black glt^be.

(2) Hot Region, Cold Region, Temperate Rei^ion. — Shov; the pupils the
location of those regions. " Why does the belt around the middle ol the
earth become so hot, and why does the temperature become lower as we
move towards the poles ? "

9. A Map as an Enlarged Picture of a Portion of the Globe.—

Map and Globe taught together. — 1 he teacher siys "On this map of the
world, I see two large portions of l.md, joined by a narrow neck. (Here
point to map of North and South America). " Who will come to theglube
and find the same?" Again — " On this map of the world you perceive

2^2

OUTLINE METHODS IN SPECIAL SUBJECTS.

this large island (Australia)." V/iU you find the same island on the
globe? etc. etc.

10. Interest in Map Work. — Connection between Placet and Charae-
teristk Animals and Plants. — In dealing with a map of the world, the
grand divisions should be connected with such people and with such pro-
ductions as may be characteristic. The teacher should make the dead mat«
ter of maps fairly glow with interest. ►

Pointing to a map the teacher says " Here is the home of the Negro."
A few words upon, the customs of the negroes in Africa will secure the
closest attention. When the attention is rivetted, the teacher says " This
country is called:" here write the word Africa upon the board ; do not
pronounce it till all have looked at it. If pronounced at first, the pupils
will not care to examine the spelling. Pupils then called upon to pro-
nounce and spell the word. The teacher may now throw in — " It is also
the home of the hippopotamus ami the giraffe." " Who will find the home
of the Negro on the globe." Other regions dealt with in a similar manner.

11. Causes Affecting Climate- — Distance /rom the Equator. Height
above the Sea-level. — Before entering upon the continents the pupils should
be made familiar with the principal causes determining the climate of a
place.

(fl) The distance from the equator.

{b) The height above the sea-level.

{d) Slopes towards or away from the equator.

{e) The nature of the currents (warm or cold) washing Its shores.

12. The Continents.— (I) Topical Method.— {a) The Topical Method
should be followed. (Analytic Method, p. 167.) Teacher and pupils enter
upon the study of the different topics. This method properly carried out,
requires wide reading on the part of teacher and pupils. The pupils must
have access to the best books of reference and also to the best books of
recent travel. The books of reference will be especially useful as giving
information for the ordinary recitation in geograi)l!y ; and an hour should
be set apart each week for the reading by the pupils of interesting items
found in the books of travel.

{b) The desire of the class to enter upon the study of any prarticular
division or country, may be aroused to a state of enthusiasm by exhibiting
pictures of its striking characteristics, as regards scenery, great works of
art, people, animals, plants, etc. The solar camera, of course, surpasses
all other apparatus for this purpose. Specimens of productions will also

on tlie

CharaC'
•rid, the
ich pro-
sad mat*

Negro."
cure the
5 "This
; do not
le pupils
I to pro-
It is also
:he home
manner.

'. Height
lis should
nate of a

Method

Ipils enter

Iriefl out,

pils must

books of

IS giving

ir should

|ng items

irticular

chibiting

[works of

prpasses

all also

OUTLINE METHODS IN SPECIAL SUBJECTS.

293

prove very useful. Specimens and pictures will be gladly collected by the
pupils. (Page 76.)

{c) Since Political Geography rests upon and is largely determined by
physical conditions, it follows that physical Geography should be first
learned. The natural order of topics would be (i) Outline and coast fea-
tures, (2) Surface, including the great highland regions, slopes, moun-
tains, rivers, lakes. (3) Climate and productions. (4) People.

(2) MaP'Work in General . — The most elTective means of making the
pupils familiar with part of a map, is to practise them in drawing the part
from memory. (Page 91.) Map-drawing should, however, be regarded as a
means not as an end. It is not nece^^sary, then, that the maps of the
pupils should be very accurate. The energies of the pupils should not be
wasted in learning any of the so-called systems of map-drawing by con-
struction lines.

Although it is not necessary that the maps drawn by the pupils be
absolutely correct, the maps from which the pupils learn geography should
be accurate. Aa outline rapidly drawn up m the board by the teacher is
almost certain to give erroneous ideas of relative position and of proportion.
A true outline painted in some bright color upon the ordinary blackboard,
or better still, upon a movable blackboard of slate-cloth, is almost indis-
pensable in teaching maps. For a similar reason the pupils should use
pasteboard outlines of the continents. The true form of the boundary
being thus retained, the pupils are not likely to go far astray in putting in
the other map-work.

Whenever possible life should be thrown into the dead matter of maps,
by connecting the places with something of permanent interest, as for
example : Trafalgar, with the naval engagement — The Bay of Fundy, with
its wonderful tides, etc. Maps should be so taught as to enkindle the ima-
gination and stir the feelings. (Transference of Interest, page 113.)

(3) Map- Drawing as Desk fVori. — Map-drawing furnishes one of the
most useful forms of Desk work. This arises from the following considera-
tions :

(fl) It keeps the hands employed.

{i) The work done by the pupils in a given time may, by changing
slates, be brought to a speedy test.

(<•) By this means the teacher, while employed with other classes, can
cause the pupils constantly to review maps, thus keeping map-
work already taught, fiesh in the memory.

(4) Map- Drawing as a means of Education in Geography. — Map-drawing
U one of the most speedy and effective means of examining the pupiU either

294

OUTLINE METHODS IN SPECIAL SUBJECTS.

for the purpose of promotion, or for the purpose of testing home work.
When used as an instrument of examination, map-drawing should not be
confined to mere physical features and political matters : the animals,
plants, minerals, &c. of a region, may be as readily indicated on the map,
as can be gulfs, capes, islands, countries, towns, &c.

(5) Coast Features. — As in the work of drawing the outline, the pupils
have already drawn the coast-features, it follows, that these should be
learned in this connection. Capes, islands, peninsulas, bays, gulfs, etc , are
a part of the coast-line and should he l':;amed when this element is dealt
with.

(6) Surface. — It is impossible to give a clear conception of the structure
of the surface of a country by mere description, or even by pictures. For
this part of the work we require raised maps. The raised maps offered for
sale are rather expensive ; but by means of the ordinary moulding board*
such maps may be easily made by teacher and pupils. In the work of form-
ing the sand-maps on the moulding board, the teacher would be greatly
assisted by having on his desk the "Royal Relief Atlas," published by
Messrs. Sonnenscliein and Allen, London.

While looking at the sand-map, the pupils should be required to des-
cribe the position of the great highland regions, give the boundaries of
the great slopes, etc. In other words, the pupils should be led as far as
possible to discover the facts for themselves, by examining the map. This
is true of all map-work, and leads to independent habits of investigation.
The best way of fixing these divisions of the surface in the memory, is
to have the pupils construct them. (Pages 95 and 129. Doing defines
Ideas.) For this purpose, each should be supplied with a pan and a small
quantity of piUty. A fev,' minutes should be given for examining the large
map, and then the work should be done entirely from memory.

The description of a Highland Region should include an enumeration of
its mountain chains, rivers, and lakes ; and the description of a Lowland
Region should include aa enumera ion >• its rivers and lakes. Now this is
the connection in which the names ol the mountains, rivers, and lakes
should be taught, that is, their position should be described with reference
to natural divisions of the surface, not (at first at least) to the artificial
divisions of political geography.

(7) Climate and Productions, — The Climate and Productions naturally
follow the surface. General views should first be given. (See Guyot's
Common School Geography).

*A board 4 x 3 ft. painted blue and .^wung between two upright pieces will answer
every purpose. The front edge should be provided with a hinged leg so that the board
may be prescated at any angle to the pupils.

OUTLINE MFTKODS IN SPECIAL SUBJECTS.

295

ition of

)wland

this is

lakes

kference

\ritficial

Uurally
luyot's

answer
l« board

(8) Political Divisions. — As in the case of other map-work, the political
iivisioas should be fixed in the memory by drawing them.

(9) Great Toivns. — When the greatness of a city is the outcome of some
obvious natural cause, the attention of the pupils should be directed to the
fact by questions^ For example, the city of Para is likely to flourish, as it
is the sea-port for the produce of the Amazon liasin. Towns should be
grouped upon their respective rivers and coasts. Coupling what a town is
noted for with its name, makes the work more interesting and useful.

13. Political Qeography.- (i) interest ; haw aroused. — The desire of
the class to enter upon the study of any particular country, should be aroused
by exhibijng pictures of its striking characteristics, as regards scenery,
people, animals, plants, great works of art, etc., also by exhibiting speci-
mens of its productions. The Solar Camera is of great value to excite in-
terest in the study of a country. (.Secures unity of interest and prepar-
atory adjustment, pp. 60-61.) >

A few words as to the history of the people, citing especially any great
historical events will prove interest ing.

(2) Surface. — The nature of the surface of the country should, as far as
possible, be elicited from the pupils. This eliciting,' is now perfectly
reasonable, because the pupils have only to remember what general division
of the surface the country is a part of. The teacher supplements at his
discretion what can be drawn from the pupils.

(3) Climate and Productions. — In a similar manner, the climate and
productions of the country should be elicited. A little information by way
of supplement, is all that is required.

(4) Occupation 0/ the People. — The occupation of the people should be
derived, as far as possible, from a consideiatiun of the natural productions,
etc.

(^) C<rmmerce ; Great Cities. — Foreign or !>omestic Exports. Imports,
Commercial Towns — Routes of Commerce. Jn learning about the great
cities, good pictures will be helpful in many ways.

(6) yourneyi. — These should be made very interesting by pictures.—
Solar Camera of great value.

(7) Comparison. — Comparison should be carried out in every subject.
The continents drawn on the same scale should be always before the pupils.
The pupils should be constantly exercised upon these, and also upon the
chart, showing the comparative volume of trade of different countries, the
comparative wealth, the comparative population, military strength, etc.
The teacher can easily form such charts by enlarging the diagrams given in

296

OUTLINE METHODS IN SPECIAL SUBJECTS.

some family atlas of recent date. (Composes the most perfect fora 0/
attention, pages 58 and 59,) ^

Note. — The following books are recommended for teachers : — Geikle's
Teaching of Geography, MacMillan & Co.; Dr. King's, Aids and Methods
in Geography, Lee and Sheppard, Boston.

II. Arithmetic-

Remarks on General Principles of the Method. — It is strictly in line with
psychology :

1. It bej^m-. wi 5 the presentntive and advances to the rept esentative .
Number Is, of course, pure abstraction ; in the method here outlined, the
pupil begins not only with concretes, but with intuitions that make them
concrete. That is, the arrangement of each number-form is an analyzed one
which makes r-''-'*'' '-^ distinct. Present seven things in a row, say, and
the resulting icie ,, is vig^v • it will have to be made definite by analysis and
synthesis. Symmo* iuil ^. ran^jement, with different intuitions of the same
form, lead'- to "lear tercepti^n, -rd so aid^ the higher mental processes.

2. It followj, thai thi' ■.•:i t1 , -liV'^t; and re-combination of things call
out gradually the analytic and syntli. ia. 'unctions of mind.

3. Since number is not so much a relation as a relating, the method gives
the pupil a clear idea of number — an idea which in the highest mathematics
is not to be corrected, but only to be made explicit.

4. The varying forms give both novelty and distinctness. The child
sees that the relation is the same although the form is different. He is
abstracting, and abstracting in the natural psychological way, simply and
unconsciously. He is learning to think relations from seeing them.

5. Giving the symbol as soon as the idea is mastered, is justified by
common sense as well as by psychology. There is variety and therefore
interest ; dealing with the objects too long, becomes monotonous ;
symbols open up a new field. There comes also a feeling of power, of
advance, etc. There is economy of time and power for both teacher and
pupil. It affords means of self-instruction. In short, the justification is on
the same ground for the child as for the race. The human miiid always
economizes by means of some condensed symbol as soon as the idea is
familiar. It is worse than useless to be always going back to beginnings ;
this would render progress extremely slow.

OUTLINE METHODS IN SPECIAL SUBJECTS.

297

GENERAL SUGGESTIONS.

1. Arithmetic is taught for the sake of (a) its value in discipline, (i) its
value as knowledge, i.f., its utility in the affairs of life.

2. To secure these values as thoroughly as possible, all arithmetical
study is to be a training in thinking ; all merely mechanical work is to be
banished. There must indeed be mechanical drill, but this must be founded
on intuilions,

3. For this training in thinking, as well as for acquiring skill, systeniatU
training in Mental Arithmetic, from first to last, is absolutely indispensable.
Indeed, so far as Arithmetic is concerned, the principal work of the teacher
in the Public School is to practise the children in Mental Arithmetic.

4. At each and every staj^e Mental Arithmetic must precede, and lead
up to Written Arithmetic. As compared with the effectiveness of written
Aritmetic alone, it may be fairly said that with the systematic teaching of

Mental Arithmetic, twice the Knowledge and twice the Power will
be acquired in a given time.

5. In mental work, rapidity, correct language, and logical order of
thought and statement must be constantly aimed at.

6. In mental Arithmetic it is desirable that the teacher should follow the
sequence of some book. Otherwise the ' ' course " is likely to be without logi-
cal method ; disconnected problems are of but little use in mental training.
At the outset, children need no book ; when they have advanced to division,
and its applications, they may prepare assigned le^^sons in some text-book.
But a book supplies only type-questions ; many similar questions should be
framed by teacher and pupils.

7. In Mental Arithmetic there should be frequent written -examinations,

8. Good counters are cubes (black and white) with faces a centimetre
(about J inch) square ; ten of them are represented by a rectangular prism
(units, black and white alternately,) which makes a convenient ten-unit.
For making the number-forms, a blackboard may be used having holes
bored two inches apart in horizontal and vertical lines. With this are too
white (wood or bone) buttons with short stems (or inserting in the holes.
The number forms can be built up, for teaching, or copying by the pupils,

A. — First Stage. — The Numbers One to Five.

I. The numbers i to 5, inclusive, taught intuitively by Number-Forms
and by counting — these "forms" being presented through (a) doti or

29S

OUTLINE METHODS IN SPECIAL SUBJECTS.

points on blackljoard, slate, etc., {t) arrangement of balls of abacus, (r)
arrangement of cudes, etc., used as counters. Number-forms are to be
used because the intuitUa of a number of objects in a group is clear and
comparatively easy if there is a symmetrical arrangement ; e.g.^ the per-
ception and ultimate conception of five are easier from thii arrangement

• •
• than from this • • • • •

2. It will be found useful to run over the number forms from one to
eight, or even ten, to give a general idea of the numbers represented ; then
begin to make these ideas definite making I — 5 the first stage. It is not
necessary to spend time, first of all, in learning to count. That 5f ^-S-i
follows 4, and precedes 6, is seen from the intuitions, and but little, if any
formal drill in counting is necessary.

3. From principles which have already been set forth, it will be well, after
reasonable drill on one form, to make other presentations of a

Number Form, ^.^., of five: — • • •

• • • •''

4. Practice is to be had in all the combinations of the several numbers
{see table btlo7v), first, the additions, then the subtractions, etc. ; and every
number is to be mastered before the next number is taken up. This means
(a) the addition of pairs of numbers, by Number Forms in various ways
(see above), e.g., (b) subtraction or the resolution of numbers into pairs by
similar means, {c) the multiplication and division (exact) of pairs, as e.g.,
three times two are six ; the twos in six are three.

Note. — {c) May be left till the combinations from i to 10 are learned.
Practice in counting backward and forward.

5. Of course, this includes practice in number-forms, on board, slate, etc.

For example: —

• etc

6. Give the figure (symbol) as soon as an idea of a namber is clearly

grasped.

7. When sufficient practice has been had with blocks, dots, etc., give
practical problems, for example : Charlie paid one cent for a pencil, and
four cents for an orange, how much did he spend ? etc, etc. When drilling
on addition, let the practical problems be in addition ; when in sub*
trtuti^n, let the practical problems illustrate subtraction. Then, problems

OUTLINE METHODS IN SPECIAL SUBJECTS.

299

iliustriting l)Oth operations. So with multiplication and division. Ii\
using the number-forms the operation can be sem, and thi^ leads to mndei-

UAnJing.

8. There should be exercises in rapid mental work, e.g.^ 5-i-»-a-l + 3
- 2, etc.

9. Have practice in the corresponding written (word and symbol) exi r-
cises as soon as the children have mastered the mental process.

For example : —

• •

• : in words, two and tkrti are five ; in

symbols, 2 + 3=5.

^.—Second Stage.— Numbers Six to Ten.

The numbers 6 to 10, inclusive, to be tanyht intuitively, all the steps
given in the first stage being followed. This includes especially

(1) Practice in the a Idition of two numbers whose sum is not greater than
ten ; see table given below. Practical problems as before.

(2) Subtraction. Practical problems.

(3) The multiplication and division of numbers within the above-named
limits. This practice means

[a) The multiplication table of numbers from I to 10 ; this supposes (as
before) m\ich " drill," but drill grounded on intuitions.

{b) Division of the products obtained in (a) by an abstract divisor ; (b)
division in the sense of distribution, the converse of the operation in (a) ; in
(rt) the factors are given and the product is to be found ; in {b) the product
is given and the f ictors are to be found. It cannot be too often repeated
that these processes are to be rendered visible — there must be intuitions
through number-pictures.

(f) Measurement of the products of the multiplication tabhy i.e,, division
in the sense of being contained in ; e.g.^ 2 is contained in 4, 6, 8, etc.

(4) Practice in the corresponding written exercises as soon as the children
have mastered the processes mentally. Practice, also, in solving and in
constructing practical problems.

(5) After ten has been learned, the tens may be ran over : twen-ty,
thir-ty, for-ty, etc. Then, 5 tens = 4 tens+ i ten,=3 tens + 2 tens, etc., etc.

The following table, which exhibits all combinations of number from i
to 20, shews substantially the work to be done in these two stages, and is
the basis of all combinations.

JOO

OUTLINE METHODS IN SPECIAL SUBJECTS.

C. — Third Stage. — Numbers from One to Twenty.
I. Table of Combinations on Numbers from i to 20.

i + i

2+1

3+1

4+1

5 + 1

6+1

7 + 1

8 + 1

2+2

3 + 2

4 + 2

5 + 2

6 + 2

7 + 2

1 + 2

3 + 3

4+3

5 + 3

6 + 3

Vit

1 + 3

2 + 3

4 + 4

5 + 4

O+I

1+4

2 + 4

3 + 4

9 + 2

10+2

1 + 5

2 + 5

3 + 5

4 + 5

8 + 3

9 + 3

10 + 3

1+6

2 + 6

3 + 6

7+4

8 + 4

9 + 4

10+4

i<;

1 + 7

2 + 7

6 + 5

7 + 5

8 + 5

9 + 5

10 + 5

1+8

6 + 6

7 + 6

84-6

9 + 6

10+6

5 + 6

7+7

8 + 7

9+7

10+7

3t8

5 + 7

6+7

8 + 8

9+8

10 + 8

4+8

5 + 8

6+8

7 + 8

9 + 9

10+9

2 + 9

3+9

4 + 9

5 + 9

6 + 9

7 + 9

8 + 9

I + 10

2+10

3+10

4+10

5 + io

6+10

7 + 10

8+10

9+10

9+1

8+2

7 + 3
6 + 4

5 + 5

4 +

3 + 7
2 + 8

1+9
^0

IO+ 10

2. The upper part of the table gives the combinations of the numbers to
ten iuclusive ; the lower part, the combinations of the numbers from 1 1 to
20 inclusive. The ways of forming five are. — 4 and i, 3 and 2, besides the
related forms, 2 and 3, and i and 4. In all, there are 55 different combin-
ations, and no more. The other combinations, forty-five in all, are simply
different ways of expressint; some of these as e.e;., 3 and 2 are 5, may be also
expressed by 2 and 3 are 5. In the table, the equivalent forms are separated
from the fundamental forms by witler spacing, ^.^., i + 2, so separated
from 2 + 1.

The plan to be followed is the same as that of the preceding stages.
Number forms of all the numbers from 11 to 20 are to Ije given by means of
balls on Frame, dots, etc.; and by means of these the partitions and recom-
binations are to be shown. Take, e.g., the number eleven. From the
table, the different combinations for eleven are lo and I, 9 and 2, 8 and 3.
7 and 4, 6 and $. Then with the following number-form for eleven, all the
unit-forms of which are now familiar to the child, we have :

♦ ♦

♦♦♦

♦ ♦♦

♦ ♦

♦

♦ ♦

♦♦
♦♦

104-iBiI

♦
+ 2 ="

♦♦♦
♦♦♦

♦ ♦

♦

♦ ♦

♦
♦

8 +3

7 +4

♦ ♦

♦

♦ ♦

6 +$

OUTLINE METHODS IN SPECIAL SUBJECTS.

301

♦
♦

All these forms may be made upon the ball form, by simply moving
some of the balls of the original figure, so that, as in all the preceding forms,
pupils sec that these five forms are identical. And similarly with the other
forms up to 20. Making these partitions and combinations, and expressing
the process in words and figures, afford good self-instruction work.

3. {a) This table includes the usual forms : — i plus 2, 3, 4, etc. ; 2 plus
I, 2, 3, etc. ; 3 plus I, 2, 3, etc. If thoroughly learned from intuitive-
teaching, it will prove a solid foundation for all primary work.

(6) It is applicable to the higher combinations of numbers, f.^., take
those of 5 ; 4+1 leads to 14+ 1, 24+1, 34+ 1, etc. ; 2 + 3 leads to 21+3,
2 + 23, 23 + 3, 24 -r 3, etc.

|. T>.— Fourth Stage.

1. The genesis of numbers from i to 100, inclusive — the method of intui-
tion being followed as in the preceding stages.

2. Make the pupil familiar with combinations of tens&fi units ; e.g., as in
the combination of five, 4+1 =J, so, 4 tens+ I ten = 5 tens ; this by visible
and tangible objects. Call attention to the fact that thirty = tlirL'e-ty, is 3
tens ; forty is four-ty, 1.^., 4 tens, etc. In fact, practice on the tens (using
intuitions) may be had as soon as ten is learned.

3. Teach the intermediate numbers, e.g.^ 21=2 tens + 1 ; 22 = 2 tens + 2,
etc.; 31 = 3 tens + I, 32 = 3 tens +2. Give practice in counting backwards
and forwards by 2's, by 3's, etc. ; 2, 4, 6, etc. ; 3, 6, 9, 'jtc. Give notation
and numeration to lo), inclusive. Throughout, keep prominent the com-
posite character of the numbers, viz. tens and units ; e.g., 35 = 3 tenS
and 5 units.

4. Give pmctice in the addition of a number of one digit to one of two
digits ; the higher number to be exhibited as so many teus and ttnits. Form
series of numbers, e.g., give two or three terms, and have the children con-
tinue the series, 12, 14, 16, etc. ; 9, 12, 15, etc. ; 21, 25, 29, etc.

5. Practke in the subtraction of a number of one digit from one of t7vo
digits. As in the preceding exercises, intuition is necessary, especially in
such cases as 43 + 7, 62 + 9, etc.

6. Practice the multiplication table till the pupils have obtained a ready
knowledge of it, but, in ez'ery instance give by intuition a dear insight into
the meaning 0/ each combination ; e.g., the meaning of 4 times 7 is 28, must

NoTB.- -Call attention to the fact that thirteen is three-teen, i.e., 3 and ten ; fourteen,
4 and ten etc. The pupil may run over the numbers from 11 to ao, to get a general idea
of them, before proceeding to a definite knowledge of them by analysis and tynthetia.

302

OUTLINB METHODS IN SPECIAL SUBJECTS.

be made perfectly clear by means of the " ball-frame," etc. But this cleat
insiijhl bein}^ had, drill tilt the children can give the combination with
scarcely an effort of thoui^ht. The pupil may be taught to construct and
practice the table for himself, by me.ins of the balls, the counters, dots,

etc. : /^.,

• • • one 3

• • • two 3't

• • • three 3*8
etc., etc.

In written work the order should be (^) multiplication by a number o(

one digit ; [b) do., by 10 ; (<■) do., by a multiple of 10 (</) do., by a number

formed of units and tens.

7. Give practice in the division of the products of the multiplication (as
in Stage B, l b), («), by an abstract divisor, 1.^., division in the sense of
distribution ; and \b), measurement of the products^ i.e., division in the
sense of Mni,' contained in. In written work the order will be {a), division
by a number of one digit ; {b) by 10 ; {c), by a multiple of 10 ; (d), by a
number consisting of tens and units.

8. The children are now prepared to deal formally with (a), the factors
of a number ; (b), the factors ctjinmon to two or more numbers ; (.••^ the
G. C. F,, of do. ; and (a) with the multiples of a number ; {b), a multiple
of two or more numbers, and (c), the L. C. M. of two or more numbers

The course of work above exhibited shews, in the main, the whole course
of instruction in elementary arithmetic, and constitutes the basis of all
subsequent work. Unless, therefore, the work outlined has been thoroughly
mastered, subsequent progress will be uncertain and unsatisfactory.

E.—FiytA Stage.

This stage is mainly a continuation of the preceding stages, which cover
the ground of the first seven sections of Mental Arithmetic, Pt. I. Details,
therefore, are not necessary. A few hints may be noted.

1. Children must understand the value of numbers before they use them.
This is the fundamental principle in the preceding stages, in which intuition
has the first place. In Stage D, when intuition is no longer expedient, the
number should be clearly analyzed into hundreds, tens and units, etc.

2. In written work with large niiml^ers — i.e., numbers too large for
mental operations, note the following points : —

NoTkJ.- If the intuition -method has been intelligently followed, most children will
understand the reason of " borrowing and carrying ; " but time need not be wasted and
the brighter pupils kept back .ill the " dull " members of the class master the rationalt.

OUTLINE METHODS IN SPECIAL SUBJECTS.

303

(«) Avoid working with very iar^e nnmbers. Do not waste nervous force
in drudgery. Ix)ng mechanical opt-raiions, especially of nuiltiplicatii)u
with large factors, have little practical value. Who ueetis to multiply
millions by millions, or hundreds of thousands by hundreds of thousands?
Instead of questions involving hosts of figures, give many questions of
moderate length, and aim at accuracy and rapidity.

(b) To prevent mere mechanical drudgery, and to awaken the interest
which grows out oi intellii^ence, every process must be thoroughly ixplaineil.

(c) As already implied, in mental work, insist on good language and
logical and concise order of statement ; in written work aim at neatness,
^curacy, rapidity.

{(d) Some of the tables of weights, measures and money, will of course be
mastered, and use made of them in " Practical Problems."

P. — Sixth Stage. — Fractional Arithmetit.

I. Vulgar ; II. Decimal.

1. Begin with the now familiar idea of the division of a Ni/MBRR into
equal parts, the underlying principal in all teaching of fractions. Show,
eg., that to divide 6 by 3 is to obtain one f)f the 3 equal parts (2) that com-
pose 6. Show that " to take one-third of 6 " is the same as " to divide 6
by three ; " there is a change of name, but no change of idea or of opera-
tion. Give practice in finding J, |, \, \, etc., of a number. (See page 211).

2. Lead to the facts that a nunibei has two halves, three thirds, four
fourths, etc.

3. The children have already learned tl t twice one unit of any kind, is
huo units of the same kind ; three times one unit of any kind is three units
of the same kind, etc. They are, therefore, now prepared to find \, \, 5,
etc., of a number ; e.^., they find tf«^-third or 6 to be 2, and therefore two-
thirds of 6 to be 4.

4. Lead to the fact that thus to take {e.g.) | of a nnmber is the same as to
take one-quart«r of three times the number, i.e., to divide 3 times the num-
ber by 4. Lead to the facts 3 lbs. divided by 4 is 12 ounces, $3^4 = 75
cents, etc.

5. Show that J of a number = J of it = | of it ; that i of a number = \
of it, etc. ; and that | of a number = \ of it, etc., e.g., ^ of 24 = 12 = | of
24 = I of 24.

NoTB. — Vuljjar fractions form a principal subject in Mental Arithmetic. Both from
common experience and from operations in the preceding ^t itjes, the children have
become familiar with some of the ideas and nomenclature of Fractional Arithmetic The
formal and systematic instruction is now to begin. Give the notation as soon as the coa-
ceptions vt% dearly gained.

304

OUTLINE METHODS IN SPECIAL SUBJECTS.

6. Now proceed to show that not only a number of things, but also a
sinqle thing may be divided info equal parts. Base the instruction on
intuitions, by a divided line, rectangle, or other concrete object. Apply
the ideas developed in 2, 3, 4, 5, above.

7. Show (a) how to change a whole number into th« form of a
fraction ; {b) how inexact division gives rise to a mixed number ; and {c)
conversely how a mixed number may be changed into an indicated division,
i.e., an "improper fraction ;" (d) how the quotient of one number divided
by another equals the sum of the quotients of the parts of the dividend by

the divisor, as e.s^.^ A = 1. — = — + _ etc. , and conversely.

4 4 4 4.

8. Use ideas of 5, above, to show how to change fractions with different
denominators into fractions having a " common denominator."

9. Addition and subtraction.

10. Multiplication and division.

For methods and type-qutsti^nt, ttt ckapttr 0h frmeti»n» im MtLellmtCt Public
School Mtntal A rithmetic.

II.— Decimal Fractions.

The Teaching in Decimal Fractions follows the order observed in vulgar
fractions, so that every '* rule " in decimals finds its explanation and demon-
stration in the corresponding vale in vulgar fractions. Guard against rule-
of-thumb work ; explain every process.

G. — Seventh Stage.

Application of the foregoing to analysis and to ** Commercial Arithmetic."

The unitary method, which has been followed in the simple analysis of
the previous stages, is to be followed here. It is to be applied to

1. Solution of '* Rule of Three," problems.

2. " Simple Interest.

3. " Profit and loss in all its "cases."

4. Other Percentage Problems.

6. Proportional parts and Partnership.

Note. — While special stress has been laid on the necessity of beginning with intuiitoni
for the acquisition and development of the first conceptions in the several stages, it is very
desirable that the pupils should pass as soon as possible to the abstract and the genend.

For method and type-questiont under these heads tee McLellan'i Higher Mental
Arithmetic.

NoTB. — In this suge the fundamental principlet of rati* and proportion, witli appUctl*
tions, may be given.

OUTLINE METHODS IN SPECIAL SUBJECTS.

305

ituiitons
it is very
;neraL

MeoUl
appUoi-

m. PRIMARY READING.

Methods. — The problem of teaching to read is doubtless a difficult one ;
but some writers greatly exaggerate the difficulty. It recjuires no great learn-
ing or skill to frame a strung " indictment " against the English alphabet.
It is safe to say that the actual difficulty is inversely as the strength of the
indictment. It is usual to name four methods of teaching piimary reading,
viz.: the alphabetic^ the phonetic, the word, and the phonic. As the alpha-
betic method is now but little used and the phonetic requires a special alpha-
bet, we may confine our notes to the word and the phonic methods.

Word method- — The method, as practised, begins with teaching words
as wholes : it connects familiar spoken words with their written or printed
forms, and passes sooner or later — generally not soon enough — to phonic
analysis ; that is, the spoken word is resolved into its separate sounds, and
these are associated with the letters which represent them in the written or
printed word. The so-called word-method is, therefore, a combination of
the word method and the phonic method.

I. It claims to be analytic, proceeding from " whole to part." It is un-
doubtedly analytic when it introduces phonic analysis of words, and con-
nects the sound-elements with the letters which represent them. As pure
word-method it is analytic — proceeding from whole to part,— only in the
fact that the child's vague idea of sound is made definite by calling his at-
tention t0 the sound of the word. The whole that the child starts from is the
vague idea of sound ; the "part " is the articulate, i.e., the defmite sound.

3. It claims to proceed from the "known to the unknown," i.e.^ from
the known sound-word (word as spoken) to the unknown form-word — word
as written or printed. But the word, as a word, is an arbitrary symbol
having no significance of its own. How can an idea of sound be used to
assimilate an unassociated idea oi form ? The best that can be said is that
the method awakens some interest by showing the child that written words,
like spoken, are m.>ans of expressing his ideas of things. It is pure assump-
tion that because the form-word is before the child he knonvs the word. He
no more knows the word till he has made his vague idea definite by analysis,
than he knows the number ten before he has made his vague idea definite by
partitions and recombinations of the objects before him. He knows the
word only through analysis mto its element.

3. The method — as word -method — is mechanical; there must be avast
amount of telling, and a vast amount of guessing. For vague perceptions
lead to feeble memory. The mind is, therefore, driven to form merely sen-
Mous associations. And thus, when the word-method, as such, is too faith.

3o6

OUTLINE METHODS IN SPECIAL SUBJECTS.

fully followed, the child memoi ize. whole page^ of the ** readers " and sim-
ply recites when he -.eems to l)e reading.

4. This perpetual telling tends to produce a mere passive as opposed to
an active and energetic habit of mind. Fie is not taught to use the know-
ledge acquired yesterday to gain new knowledge to-day ; he does not learn
ivith what he has learned ; e.g., yesterday he was told about the word cat,
to-day he is told about the word mat : yesterday's lesson does not help him
with to-day's. Is not this a waste of power, a direct violation of "learn
with what you have learned."

5. Before the child can gain power to recognize or form new words he
must unconsciously follow the phonic method. When he comes to a new
word, it is not a question of using the phonic method, or not using it. He
cannot form or recognize the new word unless he has learned the sotmds of
its letters from unconscious phonic analysis.

6. It is only a question, then, whether the child is to be taught the phonic
method, and so get all the beneiUs, practical and disciplinary, that flow
from it ; or whether he shall be left to discover the method for himself.
If he is left to himself, there mi'st be a great waste of experiences, endless
corrections of hasty inductions, etc., in order to acquire even moderate
power of word-recognition, i.e., in order to learn even the mechanical part
of the art of reading.

7. In reading, as in all primary work, the child should not be left to his
own weak powers of analysis and synthesis. There must be exercise of both
these mental functions before the power of word-recognition is gained, and
here, as everywhere, it is the business of the teacher to direct the mental
activity so that the desired results may be reached with the least waste of
power.

The Phonic Method- — Tht phonic method begins with elements, that
i?, the sounds, or powers of the letters, and then coml>ines them into words.
It is, therefore, commonly called a "synthetic" method.

I. It is, in fact, both analytic and synthetic, and may, therefore, be
rightly called the analytic-synthetic metho 1. The recoj^nition of the sound
(J, or d, is an analytic act. In making' the exact sound dt, the pupil's atten-
tion is called to what he has for a long time lieen doing, and like all atten-
tion, analyzes ; the result is the dejinite idea of the sound S. It is here, at
elsewhere, a mistake to suppose that because the sounds are definite in
themselves, they are definite to the child. The vague "whole" in this
case is the undifTeientiated mass of sound and corresponding undifferentiated
ideas of sound — those wliich he has made led by impulse or imitation, and

and sim-

iposed to
le know-
not leam
irord cat,

help him
f "learn

words he
to a new
I it. He
sounds of

le phonic
that flow
himself.
s, endless
moderate
nical part

eft to his
le of both
ined, and
e mental
waste of

mts, that
to words.

^fore, be

le sound
ll's alien-
i\\ atten-
here, at
ill I lite in
ill this
hentiated
ion. and

OUTLINE METHODS IN SPECIAL SUBJECIS.

307

the process of making one out of this mass definite, is one of analysis. There
is also synthesis in combining the several definite elements into a significant
wofd.

3. The phonic (analytic-synthetic) method best obeys the law of unity of
attention, "one thing at a time." The child's attention is fixed first upon
one kind of sensations, the auditory, and then upon the coi responding visual
sensations. In the word method, attention is divided between tlie look, the
sound snd the meaning of the word, and in some cases the distraction is
increased from the attempt to associate the form of tlie word immediately with
the "object," (See page 168.)

3. It has been said that this method is without interest because the iso-
lated sounds have no meaning. This is pure theory. The/t^/wj of letters
are interesting to children, then why not sounds ? Besides, there is (a) in-
terest in the teacher's uttering of the sounds, (b) interest in the pupil's own
activ'.ty in making the sounds ; in elementary education it is scarcely possi-
ble to over-estiiiute the interest of the child in what he himself does, (c)
Intellectual interest arising from the exercise of the analytic function, (d)
Interest from the sense of new power, or capacity, and this is of the
highest value. Left to his own hap-harard inductions from the word-
method, the pupil must spend a long time before gaining the power and
sense of power, to recognize new words, (e) It ought to be remarked that
the child is not kept dwelling on the isolated sounds till all are learned ; as
Roon as he has mastered a few sounds, and the letters which represent them,
he is set to work to use his knowledge. In the very first lesson he learns
d, and /, and c, and experiences the thrill of discovery when, combining
these, he recognizes the sound cat, with which he has long been familiar.

4. The objection h^-^ been made to this method that it is impossible to
isolate the sounds of «.ne consonants ; that in the attempt to do so they arc
partially vocalized, and so mislead the children ; e.g., in isolating the sound
of c in cat, it becomes ki. To this ol)jection the miwer is : (a) In the case
of a final consonant there is a slight vocalization, e.i>., the / in cat. In the
case of an initial consonant the thing is to get the pupil to place his vocaj
organs in proper position for articulating the consonant-sound. This is
secured even if there is a slight vowel-element. liesides (o) It is not ne-
cessary to isolate the initial consonants ; jyith right teaching, the child is
led to get for himself the idea of the sound, and the power to form it.

5. The difficulty arising from the same letter standing for several sounds
is much magnified. Besides, this is not peculiar to the phonic method. The
word Ta.ti)\(A proceeds to analysis, and, therefore, has to face the difficulty.

3o8

OUTLINE METHODS IN SPECIAL SUBJECTS.

The word method assumes that the child will get the sounds of the letters by
unconscious inductions ; well, learning the different circumstances under
which the same letter stands for different sounds, is not nearly so difficult ;
e.g., the child has learned, say, the " hard" sound of c (as in cat), has he to
make a very wide induction in order to know where it has the " soft " sound?
Again, his experience is available for many cases. Suppose he has learned
the siblant s, and comes to the sentence, " the cat is on the mat," he is raot
likely to pronounce is *' iss ;" if he does so at first, he speedily correct! him-
self: nor does he trouble himself about the ** inconsistency " over which
the philosopher grows so eloquent. .

6. The analytiC'Synthetic (phonic) method is, therefore, psychologically
justifiable. Indeed, it stands to reason that any method which quickly puts
into the hands of the child the power of recognizing and constructing new
words, is better than one that leaves him wholly dependent on memory and
vague inductions from past experiences.

7. Finally, the method has stood the test of experience. It has been used
with excellent results in the Ontario Normal Schools. It is used in the
Toronto schools where the results may challenge comparison with those 0/
any other schools or any other methods.

Snggestions.

1. The teacher should remember that much drill is necessary, no matter
which method of teaching reading may be used. The aim is to gain ability
to recognize and pronounce words without conscious mental effort. When
a child has mastered the multiplication table the symbols 6x8 suggest the
result without mental effort ; so, in primary reading, the association of
sounds and symbols must \itptrfecl. There must be no stopping to think, e.g.,
what sound any letter in band stands for, or what sound they all together
represent. So long as any such thinking has to be done, there cannot be
good reading ; the mechanical association between sign and sound is not
complete, and the reader has to take time and expend energy in re-making
such association. So long as this is the case there cannot be expressive
reading.

2. From the beginning, writing is to go wiih reading. Imitating the
teacher, the pupils utter the short sound of a (as in cat) ; the teacher makes
the letter and drills to associate sound with sign ; the pnpils then write the
letter on blackboard, etc.

3. The names and sounds of the letters are not to be given together. One
thing at a time is again the order. Indeed, it will not, in general, be neces-
•aiy to give formal lessons on the names. These are learned incidentallf ;

OUTLINE METHODS IN SPECIAL SUBJECTS.

309

ine

\r\

and it will be found that by llie time the Second Part of First Book (On-
tario Readers) is reached, the pupils know the names of the letters.

4. Transition from script to print will be made with little effort. If the
blackboard and tablets (or primers) are used together from the start the
print-form will come with the script-form. When a word is written on the
blackboard, have children point it out on the tablet. Sliow the word on
tablet and have children write it, etc.

5. Pupils must be taught, from the first, to read every sentence with ex-
pression. As already intimated, perfect familiarity with the words of the
sentence is necessary. There should be many exercises involving questions
and answers. With simple devices the thoughtful teacher will lead the
children to read every sentence with the right expression.

6. Instead of using only ready-made pictures (in tablets, etc), the
teacher should, as far as possible, make blackboard drawings of objecti.
This increases interest of class.

7- Diacritical works are not necessary ; the different sounds of a letter
are learned from comparison of different forms, e,g., cap, cape ; mat, mate ;
fat, fate, etc. Of course, there are some words that must be taught as
wholes.

8. It is unnecessary — rather it is unwise — to associate objects with Mrritten
words. The order is : theic'ea, the spoken word, the written word. That
is, perfect association is formed between the idea and its spoken word, then
perfect association between the spoken word and its written form. To at-
tempt to form a new and direct association between the idea (object) and
iht form is to violate the law of unity of attention.

Practical Suggestions — The following suggestions may be useful to
the young teacher :

1. Choose some element, say at, as starting point. Give sound of a in
<?/, and have children repeat tht- sound individually and collectively. Make
the letter on blackboard and have children make it on slates, etc., helping
them to easiest way of doing this. Drill to associate sound and sign :
Make letter and call for sound, make sound and call for letter. Proceed
similarly with the letter t. Then sound elements a, /, at first slowly, then
more rapidly, till the word at is produced- Illustrate meaning of at [at the
door, etc.) Have pupils write word.

2. Show picture of a cat. Children pronounce the word cat ; then slowly
so as to separate into two sound-elements (a known and an unknown) repre-
sented by c-at. Write woid cat on blackboard. Call attention to the parts :
Sound ai ? (or what does at say, etc. ) Sound the whole word ? Then

3IO

OUTLINE METHODS IN SPECIAL SUBJECTS

sound the part c ? (or sound the letter that makes at into cat ?) Have chil»
dren make the letter. Drill to associate form and sound. For desk-work
have the children write the several letters and the word^ on properly ruled
slates or paper, giving directions as to how the letters can be best formed.
In a similar way, proceed \\ ith the words bat, cat, fat, hat, mat, nat, pat,
rat, sat, vat.

3. Constant exercise in using acquired knowledge to gain new words,
which are significant, or which can easily be made significant, to the child.
For example : (i) the teacher writes the word /«//, and asks the pupil to
pronounce it. (2) He pronounces the wordya;/ (or gives picture of the thing)
and has them write \.\\^ word, (3) He leaves them to discover new words,
e.g,y cap. In such way may be treated such words as tan, tap, cab, can,
cap, fan, has, ham, man, map, nap, ran, ram, rap, sam, sap, van, trap,
strap, bran, ant, pant, grant, span.

4. Similarly, the short sounds of the other vowels can be taught : bit, fit,
hit, mit, pit, sit, or in, bin, fin, pin, sin, tin, spin ; cot, hot, not, pot, 9r
fop, hop, lop, mop, sop, top ; bet, met, net, pet, set, or hen, men, ten, pen ;
but, cut, hut, nut, rut, or bun, fun, sun, run, etc., etc.

5. The other consonants may be taught as in (2) and (3) — ba-d, ha-d,
pa-d, po-d, ho-d, so-d, bi-d, lii-d, di-d, d-in, din-ner, etc., ba-g, na-g, ra-g,
bo-g, fo-g, do-g, g-ad, g-ap, g-un, big, pig, gig, etc. ; 1-ad, b-ag, 1-ap, let,
let-ter, etc.; and, sand, band, land, stand, etc. Of course the teacher will
not confine himself to monosyllables. He will introduce into his simple
sentences and "stories" longer significant words, e,g,y dinner, dipper, dig-
ger, dimmer, dagger, sadder, sinner, summer, softer, butter, bitter, better,
pepper, supper, rub-ber, robber, red-der, lad-der, man-ner, ban-ner, pic-
nic, sis-ter, riv-er, nev-er, cutter butter, etc.

6. As already intimated the long vowels can be taught inductively . the
pupils will soon see that the final e is silent amd makes the medial vowel
long : bat, bate ; mat, mate, etc. ; bate, fate, mate, pate, rate, date, gate,
hate, late, grate, skate, slate, grated, plated ; cane, lane, mane, sane, vane ;
fade, jade, made, glade, blade ; came, same, tame, lame, name, blame,
fame, dame, game, flame, etc. Fin, fine ; din, dine, etc.; fine, line, mine,
nine, pine, vine, wine ; time, grime, lime, crime, clime ; hide, ride, tide,
side, glide, pride, etc. Mole, stole, dole, bole, sole, poke, wi>ke, broke,
yoke, spoke ; bone, tone, lone, alone, crone, drone, cone. Met,
mete ; pet, pete ; cede, re-cede, im-pede. Tun, tune, cub, cube, etc. ;
mute, lute, fume, tune, clue, blue ; latest, plated, skating, etc. ; biting,
glided, etc. ; con-sume, vol-ume ; mop-ing, grop-ing, sloped, com-plete,
levere ; strong, long, etc., etc

OUTLINE METHODS IN SPECIAL SUBJECTS.

3i»

7. It will be convenient to have for use a lar^e number of words, classi-
fied according to similarity of vowel sounds. For example, other ways of
representing Ion<; vowel souiuls :

Long a — aiy as : ail, liail, fail, jail, mail, nail, pail, rail, sail, wail, fail,
frail, snail, trail, etc.; aim, air, hair, chair, pair, lair, re-pair, rain, pain,
gain, plain, grain, ex-plain, etc.

Ay— As : bay, day, giy, hay, jay, lay, may, nay, pay, play, ray, say,
way, pray, dray, gray, a- way, de-lay, pray-er, Sun-day. Also a few in
ey : prey, they, obey, con-vey, etc.

Long Q—e, oonbled (e e), as : bee, fee, lee, see, thee, flee, free, tree,
three, feed, deed, need, seed, deem, seem, queen, seen, be-tweeii, six-teen,
etc., etc.

In the combination ea, as : lea, pea, sea, tea. Ilea, plea, leaf, sheaf, meatl,
read, beak, leak, heap, leap, each, peach, teach, reach, etc., etc.

Long — <nv, as : bow, low, mow, sow, tow, blow, flow, glow, grow, etc.
Oa, as : oats, oak, oar, roar, soar, foal, goal, shoal, foam, roam, loam,
loan, moan, groan, hoarse, ap-proach, etc.

The oi sounds as : oil, boil, coil, foil, soil, toil, broil, spoil, noise, voice,
con-join, appoint, etc. Some in oy, as : buy, coy, joy, toy, annoy, destroy,
oyster.

And so proceed with other analoL;ous .sounds.*

The teacher should keep in mind that in teaching primary reading he is
to put his pupils as quickly as possiijle in possession of the power of word-
recognition, ability to pronounce words without a conscious effort of
thought .so that the pupils may quickly pass to interesting reading matter.
But of course he is not to drill simply on isolated words till the forty sounds
and their representatives are learned. He should have the words as fast a.s
learned used in sentences and easy stories. It requires skill to form
these properly. No lesson requires more cat ejul piepLiialion by the teacher
than the primary reading lesson.

Let no teacher follow any plan which takes from four to eight months
to learn by the " word-method," "some two hundred words." The school
life of the child is too short and too precious to be thus Iritteied away. Hy
/ollmutng the analytic-synthetic (phouu) method his pupils in ** from four
to tight months,^^ "vill have acquit cd thi ability to protiounce at once any or-
dinary English word, that is. The main difficulty in primary reading
will have been mastered-

* In m.iking classifications of words, and framing sentences, 4c., the teacher will yet
much help from MeikUjohn's " English Method of Teaching to Read," Macmillan A Co,
To help in seuteoce and Uory-readinx, the teacher shoi-ld have differeut primary readen.

3T2 OUTLINE METHODS IN SPECIAL SUBJECTS.

IV.— TRAINING OF LANGUAGE POWER.

I. Qeneral Principles. — Importance of language has been dwelt on
pp. 107, 184, 215.

1. The instrument for expression of thought.

2. The instrument of thinking process.

[a) It records thoughts. {&) It shortens the thinking process, (c) It
analyzes thought, (f/) It reacts on thinking.

3. Language, is, tlierefoie, the complement of reason — that without
which reason would not and could not be what it is. Progress in thought,
therefore universal progress, depends upon language.

4. It follows that language is the ifst and the condition of the cultivation
of reason :

(a) In perception, there must be for the percepts, words; (i) In judg-
ment (the thinking of relations), there must be propositions, (c) In relat-
ing judgments (reasoning, etc. ) there must be connected propositions, or
discourse.

5. Hence every lesson should be a lesson in language- {a)

Power ot expression is test of thinking ; clear expression means clear
thought, {t} Disconnected (occasional) "language lessons" are useful but
not sufficient, (c) Reproduction in oral and written language indispensable.
{(f) Hence mistake of having large classes especially in primary work.

U. Method in Outline. — There may be considered : I. Indirect Influ-
ences ; 2. Reproduction ; 3. Original Work.

1. Indirect Influences. — The teacher should : »

(i) Use Correct Forms of Speech. Child, a creature of imitation. Out-
side influences form habits of incorrect speech : school-room influences
should correct bad habits of speech, and form good habits. In all ques-
tioning, exposition, stories, narratives by the teacher, there should be [a)
good grammar, {b) correct pronunciation, {c) educated accent, or cadences
of voice, which are " the commentary of the emotions on the proposuions
of the intellect."

(2) Insist on Correct Forms. No imperfect answer to be accepted. Blun-
ders in grammar, slovenly ennunciation, fragmentary speech, not to be tol-
erated in either teacher or pupil.

(3) Study Correct Forms, Teachers should study con amore the best
writers. \ apils should have abundant reading of such authors ; the scrappy
lessons of the ordinary reading book are totally insufficient. To become
good readers, and good vsers of English speech and lovers of English lit-

OUTLINE METHODS IN SPECIAL SUBJECTS.

i>3

dwelt on

i. {c) It

without
thou^ht^

Liltivation

In judg-

In relat-

iitions, or

IgO. (a)
ins clear
iseful but
^ensable.
)rk.

ict Infiu>

Out-

fluences
all ques-
be (a)
cadences
)osuions

Blun*
be tol>

the best
scrappy
become
;lish lit»

erature, they must read and study good literature. There oue:ht to be
much supplementary reading in every school. There is not half enough
practice in reafling in any school class, and the power to read well and love
for good literature will not be developed without libraries of choice liter-
ature.*

(4) Exercise in Correcting Faculty Forms. There should be practice in
correcting prevailing errors of speech. Pay no attention to the nonsense
poured out against the practice of correcting " false syntax." There is no
need, however, to imagine incorrect forms. There is plenty of false syntax
in every-day speech and writing, and habits of right speaking must come
from correcting opposite habits.

(5) In this connection, grammatical analysis may be mentioned as a valu-
able means of language training. It is necessary also to intelligent reading,
because it is necessary to the clear apprehension of thought.

2. Beproductioil' — The importance of this has been emphasized.

(1) All lessons supply material for such exercises. The primary pupil is
to (a) write new words and sentences he has been taught, {b) Make new
sentences in which given words are to occur, such as new words, irregular
verbs (go, went, etc.) on which lessons have been j^iven. {c) Copy maxims
and proverbs which are worth remembering, (d) Give substance of what
has been said in lessons on such proverbs and maxims, (e) Give Sen*
tences expressing observed facts,

(2) Silent Reading. This should be practiced from the beginning.
Give a reasonable time for class to read over silently a few sentences, a short
narrative, etc., and then have them close books and reproduce the thought.
Capital exercise for all cUisses. Power of concentration cultivated, etc.

(3) Stories. From pictures, and reproduction of stories told by teacher.
Train children to " translate " pictures (orally) as well as they can, to tell
the story as well as they can, and finally to write out the thought as well as
they can. Advanced classes should give abstracts, narratives, paraphrases,
etc.

(4) Object lessons, (a) Perceptive ; {b) Reflective.

(a) Perceptive. — Have object lessons on size, weight, form, etc., and com-
mon objects, etc.; and make every such lesson a language lesson. Learning
the facts about a cube — faces, corner, edges, etc., these must be properly ex-

* An excellent and remarkably cheap series of " Classics for Children," U published
by Ginn * Co., Boston. The whole set ought to be in every school and in every teadMi'f
library.

3»4

OUTLINE METHODS IN SPECIAL SUBJECI'S.

pressed. Lesson on table, e.g., the facts taught about top, frame^ legs^ uses,
material, etc., must be properly expressed orally and in writing. If a les-
son, e.g., (by means of pieces of wood, stone, wool, etc.) has been given to
develop ideas of hardness and softness, the results should be expressed in
such language as : " Because the stone does not yield easily to the touch, it
is said to be hard, to have (or possess) the quality of haraness ;" similar
sentences about the wood, «&c. ; then expression of the generalization, {b)
Reflective. — Lessons on truthfulness, justice, charity, industry, patriotism,
etc. Such lessons may farily be called (subjective) " object" lessons because
ihey appeal directly to the child's expei ience. Wisdom and goodness em-
bodied in mavims, proverbs, literary, gems, etc., to be the subject-matter of
lessons. Such lessons can be made more interesting than external object
lessons, and are of the highest value in education. For example, lessons
on such selections as the following :

" A soft answer turneth away wrath, etc."
"Kind hearts are the gardens.
Kind thoughts are the roots.
Kind words are the blossoms,
Kind deeds are the fruits."
•* All thing- that you do, do with your might.
Things done by halves are never done right"

" Dare to be true, nothing can need a lie.**

" Be good dear child, and let who will be clever,
Do noble deeds, not dream them all day long,
And so make life, death, and the vast forever,
One grand sweet song."

** Politeness, like great thoughts, comes from the heart." —

•' What is it to be a genilemun ? It is to be honest, to be gentle, to

be generous, to be brave, to be wise, and, possessing all these qualities,

to exercise them in the most graceful manner."

"Define a gentleman you say?
Well, yes, I think I can 1"

" He is as gentle as a woman,

And as manly as a man." etc, etc

(5) ^<»»wr«i»?-.— .'^elections in Poetry and Prose. The Intelligent
learning by heart of masterpieces of our literature is a most effective
means of education; now greatly neg'ec ed owing to re-action against
mere r^/^leaming. Should be in every school; part of the toork oj every
eUu$,

OUTLINE METHODS IN SPECIAL SUBJECTS.

3*5

{a) It trains the language faculty and the memory.

{6) It stores the mind with good and beautiful thoughts which will tell
powerfully on character, {c) It helps towards expressive reading. (</) It
tends to develop a taste for good literature, one of the highest results the
teacher can aim at.

Something in this line should be done every day ; and every week
part of a day should be specially devoted to readings, recitations, etc.

3. Original Work. — The work being graded acconiing to the stage o(
advancement of class, there should be : {h) Letters and Business Forms,

(2) Narratives of personal experiences, descriptions of journeys, etc.

(3) Biographical sketches and historical narratives. (4) Accounts of cur-
rent events. (5) Criticisms of well studied selections. (6) Formal Essays.

V. GRAMMAR.

General Remarks. — Grammar is one of the thought-subjects of ilic
school course. It has, perhaps, stronger claims than Arithmetic 1 < W
called "the logic of the common schools." Hut beside its disciplinary
value, it has great practical value. The science of the sentence (the unit
of thought), its study helps to make the student a good reader, and a go^d
speaker and writer. The teacher should be on his guard against the pre
vailing attempts to belittle the study of Grammar and Analysis.

General Method. — Begin with the bare sentence, the two-word sentence,
subject and predicate. Then, as Prof. Whitney says, " Having the nucleus
of the sentence well understood, it is easy to go on and teach the other
parts of speech and their offices ; the substitute for the noun (pronoun)
the two kinds of qualifying words (adverb and adjective) and the two con-
necting words (preposition and conjunction), and with such clearness as
to be thoroughly comprehended. Dealiny; as we do with a known an 1
familiar language, we can accomplish all this before we proceed to take up
the several parts of speech themselves for a more detailed treatment." Tlii^
is the true method, and the preliminary work indicated can be done in
almost the lowest classes. The child begins to form judgments l)efore he is
two years old, and to express them {\\\ propositions') before he is three. Be-
fore a sentence can be properly read, it must be understood, i.e., there must
be analysis of it, conscious or unconscious. Begin then with the sentence,
and let the process be one of analysis and synthesis.

For public school work the following points should be kept in view :
/. Classification of W?r</j (Parts of Speech) — Word-functions:

I. Something thought (and talked) about Subject or noun.

s. Somewhat thought (and said) about this Predicate or verb.

3l6 OUTLINE METHODS IN SPECIAL SUBJECTS

3. Noun -substitute Pronotin.

4. The Subject-qualifier Adjective.

5. The Predicate-modifier Adverb.

6. The Noun-connector Preposition.

7. The Sentence-connector Conjunction.

8. The Emotion-word Interjection.

In this is indicated the essential function of each part of speech, that
which is necessary to its dffiitiiion. The noan, ^.^'., may be object of a verb,
or with a preposition may make a " modifier ; " Imt its distinguishing char-
acter is to name the thitiji tfiott:;ht of. After abundant examples of the uses,
the definitions should be given. The examples, iii fact, lead up to accurate
definition ; this is essential to accurate thought.

Examples* — Plants grow. Flowers fade. Flowers bloom.

(a) Leaves fall — flutter — rustle. Birds sing, fly, chirp. Boys play, run,
jump, learn. Grass grows. 1 ime flics, etc., etc.

(b) Little birds sing, pretty flowers fade, all men die, good boys obey,
</ai</ leaves fall, etc.

(r) Birds sing sweetly, boys run /tut, roses fade qniekly, etc

(</) The little child weeps bitterly, the sun shines brightly, etc.

(e) The yellow bird sings in the tree, the boy writes with a poor pen, etc.

(/ ) The girl sings because she is happy, the sun rose and the clouds dis-
persed, etc.

By inductive teaching there will be no difliculty in getting even pupils in
" Second Reader" to learn the " parts of speech."

II. Keep prominently in view the fact that the use of a word in a sen-
tence determines what part of speech it is. Walking is a healthful exercise,
hand me my walking stick. There is rest Tor the weary, they rest from
their labours, etc.

III. Grammatical Equivalency — make this also prominent. For ex-
ample :

(a) An adjective, or an adverb, or an infinitive, or a prepositir
or sentence (as quotation) or dependent proposition may fill thi ,e 01
noun ; e.g., That you have wronged me doth appear in this : Fro. tame t<
infamy is a beaten track, etc., etc.

iP) The office of adverb may ^ : filled by a single word, or a preposi*
tional phrase, or a noun, or an infinitive phrase, etc.

OUTLINE MhTHODS IN SPECIAL SUBJECTIb

S«7

1.
ire.

•

tion.

:tioii.

tion.

}eech, that
/ of a verb,
shing char-
of the uses,
to accurate

\ plajr, run,
boys obey,

)r pen, etc.
:Iouds dis-

pupils in

in a sen-

|1 exercise,

rest from

For ex-

.e ot '•
lame ti)

preposi'

{e) The ** adjective " may be a single word, or a noun in the possessive
case, or a prepositional phrase, or a "participle phrase," or a dependent

preposition, etc.

Inflexions, /dumber, Gender^ etc, — A good many inflexions will be
learned incidentally, but there ahould be many lessons and copious exer-
cises on the subject.

Olassiflcation of the different kinds of nouns, verbs, adjecttvet^ etc.

There should be much analysis, but eschew " diagramatic " analysis as
an invention of the deviceful empiric. This "diagramming" is supposed
to help the pupil to apprehend at a glance the relations of words, clauses,
etc., as if these relations had not to be apprehended before the disjecta
membra could be placed in the right "compartments, " etc. There ought
to be occasional exercises in written, but much practice in oral, analysis.
Analysis trains to power of rapid appreliension, of expressive reading, and
of ckar aad concise expression cf thought.

Sot*. — In addition to books prescribed by the Department, and those already named,
the teacher should possess the following books. But he should accept nothing on
"Method" which he cannot justify on psychological principles: " Dewey's Pstcho-
uoov " (Harper Brothers) : Sully's " Psychology for Teachers ;" Prcyer's " Mind of the
Child" (D. Appleton & Co.); Compayri's "Lectures on Pedagogy" (D. C. Heath);
Payne's "Contributions to the Science of Education" (Harper h, Brothers)

BrwXt'' tf wimA Method* oSTwching"\Max\t\ "Primary Education" (Jas. Thin,
Edin.) ; Sinclair's " First Year at School ;" Hughes' " Securing and Retainbfr Attentioa
and Mistakes ia Teaching f " Kindergarten Guide " (Steiger h Ca)

Coropav^'s " History of Pedagogy " (D. C. Heath) ; Mahaffy's "Old OrMk Educa
tion' (K' I, Paul * Co.) ; Uurie't " Comeniua" (Macmillaa * Ca)