IMAGE EVALUATION 
 TEST TARGET (MT-3) 
 
 1.0 
 
 I.I 
 
 1.25 
 
 III 21 III 2.5 
 
 '^ IM ill 2.2 
 
 us 
 
 m 
 
 2.0 
 
 1.8 
 
 U IIIIII.6 
 
 V] 
 
 <^ 
 
 /2 
 
 VI 
 
 cfl 
 
 '3 
 
 <pl 
 
 
 o 
 
 A 
 
 ^J' m 
 
 /A 
 
 7 
 
 Photographic 
 
 Sdences 
 
 Corporation 
 
 33 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 
 
 (716) 872-4503 
 
 \ 
 
 Q^^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 o 
 
 '^ 
 
 ^> 
 
 
 #.^\ 
 
 o^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 '%'• 
 

 CIHM/ICMH 
 
 Microfiche 
 
 Series. 
 
 CIHM/ICMH 
 Collection de 
 microfiches. 
 
 Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions 
 
 Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques 
 
 1980 
 
Technical and Bibliographic Notes/Notes techniques et bibliographiques 
 
 The Institute has attempted to obtain the best 
 original copy available for filming. Features of this 
 copy which may be bibliographically unique, 
 which may alter any of the images in the 
 reproduction, or which may significantly change 
 the usual method of filming, are checked below. 
 
 D 
 
 Coloured covers/ 
 Couverture de couleur 
 
 I I Covers damaged/ 
 
 D 
 
 D 
 D 
 
 n 
 
 Couverture endommagee 
 
 □ Covers restored and/or laminated/ 
 Couverture restaurde et/ou pelliculde 
 
 Cover title missing/ 
 
 Le titre de couverture manque 
 
 I I Coloured maps/ 
 
 Cartes gdographiques en couleur 
 
 □ Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black)/ 
 Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire) 
 
 □ Coloured plates and/or illustrations/ 
 Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur 
 
 D 
 
 Bound with other material/ 
 Relid avec d'autres documents 
 
 Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion 
 along interior margin/ 
 
 La reliure serree peut causer de I'ombre ou de la 
 distortion le long de la marge intdrieure 
 
 Blank leaves added during restoration may 
 appear within the text. Whenever possible, these 
 have been omitted from filming/ 
 II se peut que certaines pages blanches ajoutdes 
 lors d'une restauration apparaissent dans le texte, 
 mais, lorsque cela 6tait possible, ces pages n'ont 
 pas 6t6 filmdes. 
 
 Additional comments:/ 
 Commentaires suppl^mentaires; 
 
 L'Institut a microfilm^ le meilleur exemplaire 
 qu'il lui a 6t6 possibie de se procurer. Les details 
 de cet exemplaire qui sont peut-dtre uniques du 
 point de vue bibliographique, qui peuvent modifier 
 une image reproduite, ou qui peuvent exiger une 
 modification dans la mdthode normale de filmage 
 sont indiquds ci-dessous. 
 
 I I Coloured pages/ 
 
 D 
 
 Pages de couleur 
 
 Pages damaged/ 
 Pages endommagdes 
 
 Pages restored and/or laminated/ 
 Pages restaurdes et/ou pelliculdes 
 
 Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/ 
 Pages ddcolordes, tachetdes ou piqu^es 
 
 Pages detached/ 
 Pages d^tach^es 
 
 I ] Showthrough/ 
 
 Transparence 
 
 □ Quality of print varies/ 
 Quality in6gale de I'impression 
 
 I I Includes supplementary material/ 
 
 Comprend du materiel supplementaire 
 
 Only edition available/ 
 Seule Edition disponible 
 
 Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata 
 slips, tissues, etc., have been refilmed to 
 ensure the best possible image/ 
 Les pages totalement ou partiellement 
 obscurcies par un feuillet d'errata, une pelure, 
 etc., ont 6t6 film^es i nouveau de facon d 
 obtenir la meilleure image possible. 
 
 The 
 
 to tl 
 
 The 
 pos 
 oft 
 film 
 
 Orij 
 beg 
 the 
 sior 
 oth 
 firsi 
 sior 
 or i 
 
 The 
 sha 
 TIN 
 whi 
 
 Ma 
 diff 
 ent 
 beg 
 righ 
 req 
 me 
 
 This item is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below/ 
 
 Ce document est filmd au taux de reduction indiqu6 ci-dessous. 
 
 18X 22X 
 
 10X 
 
 14X 
 
 26X 
 
 SOX 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 y 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 12X 
 
 16X 
 
 20X 
 
 24X 
 
 28X 
 
 32X 
 
The copy filmed here has been reproduced thanks 
 to the generosity of: 
 
 National Library of Canada 
 
 L'exemplaire fiim6 fut reproduit grdce d la 
 g6n6rosit6 de: 
 
 Bibliothdque nationale du Canada 
 
 The images appearing here are the best quality 
 possible considering the condition and legibility 
 of the original copy and in keeping with the 
 filming contract specifications. 
 
 Les images suivantes ont 6t6 reproduites avec le 
 plus grand soiii, compte tenu de la condition et 
 de la nettetd de l'exemplaire filmd, et en 
 conformity avec les conditions du contrat de 
 filmage. 
 
 Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed 
 beginning with the front cover and ending on 
 the last page with a printed or illustrated impres- 
 sion, or the back cover when appropriate. All 
 other original copies are filmed beginning on the 
 first page with a printed or illustrated impres- 
 sion, and ending on the last page with a printed 
 or illustrated impression. 
 
 The last recorded frame on each microfiche 
 shall contain the symbol -^(meaning "CON- 
 TINUED "), or the symbol V (meaning "END "). 
 whichever applies. 
 
 Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at 
 different reduction ratios. Those too large to be 
 entirely included in one exposure are filmed 
 beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to 
 right and top to bottom, as many frames as 
 required. The following diagrams illustrate the 
 method: 
 
 Les exemplaires originaux dont la couverture en 
 papier est imprim^e sont film6s en commenpant 
 par le premier plat et en terminant soit par la 
 dernidre page qui comporte une emprainte 
 d'impression ou d'illustration, soit par le second 
 plat, selon le cas. Tous les autres exemplaires 
 originaux sont filmds en commenqant par la 
 premidre page qui comporte une empreinte 
 d'impression ou d'illustration et en terminant par 
 la dernidre page qui comporte une telle 
 empreinte. 
 
 Un des symboles suivants apparaitra sur la 
 dernidre image de cheque microfiche, selon le 
 cas: le symbole — »- signifie "A SUIVRE", le 
 symbole V signifie "FIN". 
 
 Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent §tre 
 film6s d des taux de reduction diffdrents. 
 Lorsque le document est trop grand pour §tre 
 reproduit en un seul clich6, il est film6 d partir 
 de Tangle supdrieur gauche, de gauche d droite, 
 et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre 
 d'images n6cessaire. Les diagrammes suivants 
 illustrent la m6thode. 
 
 1 
 
 2 
 
 3 
 
 1 
 
 2 
 
 3 
 
 4 
 
 5 
 
 6 
 
J 
 
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 
 
VI 
 
 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 
 
r 
 
 |!i 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 3. Characteristics t 
 
 Quality, Intensity, Tone, Extensity. Definitions of each... 8 
 
 4. Conditions : 
 
 ft 
 
 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'' 
 
i 
 
 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. 
 
 25 
 
 a6 
 
 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 
 
 I 
 
 j. 
 
 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 
 
 i 
 
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 
 
 1 
 
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 
 
 
 1 
 
 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 ■ 
 
 If 
 
 ! 
 
 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 
 
li 
 
 t 
 
 /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 
 
 •••. 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-»: 
 
 iH 
 
 I 
 
 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 
 
 ii 
 
 11 
 
 i I 1 
 
 'I 
 
 
 ! 
 
 ! 
 I 
 
 t 
 
 •J 
 
 
 
 ( 
 
 
 
 -t 
 
 ' 
 
 
 \ 
 
 I 
 
 f 
 
 \ 
 
 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 
 
 OF 
 
 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 
 
H 
 
 ■«■■ 
 
 PSYCHOLOGY. 
 
 #:i' 
 
 I . 
 
 ■'II ■ 
 
 !i 
 
 I. ! 
 
 -iV n 
 
 I !i 
 
 N 
 
 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. 
 
mm 
 
 mm 
 
 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. 
 
 
 N 
 
 ! i' 
 
 
 CHAPIER IL 
 
 t 
 
 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 
 
 1 
 
 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 
 
1MHI 
 
 I i 
 
 J I 
 
 ; '^ 
 
 \ 
 
 
 !■ 
 
 
 m! 
 
 
 I 
 it 
 
 8 
 
 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 
 
'*!%, 
 
 il 
 
 'i 
 
 i 
 
 
 j^i 
 
 ! ;!i 
 
 ill 
 
 I I 
 
 I if 
 
 * 
 
 to 
 
 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. 
 
 II 
 
 a 
 
 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 
 
: ii 
 
 if 
 
 
 
 !{ 
 
 ! 
 
 
 
 
 i i 
 
 
 j j 
 
 
 
 usiLi.. 
 
 II 
 
 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. 
 
 >3 
 
 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 
 
 I 
 
 ■s 
 
 1 
 
 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 
 
r 111 ! 
 
 »4 
 
 SENSATION. 
 
 
 I !^ 
 
 ^ , 1 
 
 m 
 
 ill 
 
 li 
 
 ;i 
 
 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 
 
) 
 
 i 
 
 1 
 r 
 
 ( 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 
 N. 
 
 1 • 
 \ 
 
 ! 
 
 1, i 
 
 r 
 
 I il 
 
 liili 
 
 i6 
 
 INTERESTS. 
 
 ' .■ ) 
 
 i i i 
 
 it!' r F ' 
 
 : . 
 
 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. 
 
 17 
 
 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 
 
 B 
 
iS 
 
 INTERESTS. 
 
 #|i' 
 
 I i, 
 
 $ 
 
 ■ '1- 
 i 
 
 i 
 
 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 
 
 V 
 
 THE BASES OF PSYCHICAL LIFE. 
 
 '9 
 
 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 
 
30 
 
 IMPULSE. 
 
 1 
 
 ! 
 
 i 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 
 i .1 
 
 ji 
 
 i.i 
 
 \f 
 
 i ' 
 
 , 
 
 1 
 
 
 i i 
 
 
 
 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. 
 
 31 
 
 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 
 
23 
 
 IMPULSE. 
 
 1 ' ill 
 
 i^l 
 
 1:!! 
 
 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. 
 
 aa 
 
 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 
 
I' 
 
 i'l 
 
 mm 
 
 n 
 
 111 
 
 !i 
 
 1: ill 
 
 i4 
 
 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. 
 
 
 
 m 
 
 ■ K 
 
 1 
 
 
 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 
 
^ammmmmm. 
 
 !li 
 
 till :iii 
 
 26 
 
 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. 
 
 i \\k I 
 
NONVOLUNTARY ATTENTION. 
 
 J7 
 
 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- 
 
wm 
 
 aS 
 
 PSYCHICAL PROCESSES. 
 
 I 
 
 !i. 
 
 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 
 

 30 
 
 PSYCHICAL PROCESSES. 
 
 I 
 
 ill 
 
 
 .'iih 
 
 ill ill 
 
 ^i t 
 
 :; 1 
 
 if; ; 
 
 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 
 
3» 
 
 PSYCHICAL PROCESSES. 
 
 :^'i- 
 
 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. 
 
 33 
 
 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 
 
54 
 
 PSYCHICAL PROCESSES. 
 
 ■? 1 
 
 1 ' 
 
 i -1 
 
 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. 
 
 ■V 
 
 4 
 % 
 
 
EDUCATIONAL PRINCIPLES. 
 
 35 
 
 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 
 
' .!) 
 
 ! 
 
 If 
 
 ■iW 
 
 r 
 
 11 
 
 j 
 
 1 : 
 
 li 
 
 |l 
 
 
 
 1 ; 
 
 
 : 
 
 : 
 
 i 
 
 1 
 
 .•' ! 
 
 [ 
 
 ii 
 
 
 ■i'l 
 
 i: 
 
 
 ti 
 
 
 
 
 i 
 
 
 IP 
 
 
 11^'^ 
 
 ii 
 
 iMIii^ 
 
 36 
 
 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. 
 
 37 
 
 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. 
 
i 
 
 PSYCHICAL PROCESSES. 
 
 
 
 1. 
 
 (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. 
 
 39 
 
 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. 
 
im 
 
 11! 
 
 40 
 
 PSYCHICAL PROCESSES. 
 
 ,' 
 
 ! ^' 
 
 
 ■ Mi- 
 
 1 
 
 ■:i;! 
 
 
 ■■' 
 
 
 
 5 
 
 1 ' < 
 
 
 i ' 
 
 111 11 
 
 V 
 
 i -i 
 
 I* i 
 
 i': 
 
 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. 
 
 4' 
 
 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 
 
Ik 
 
 fill 
 
 i 
 
 4a 
 
 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. 
 
 43 
 
 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- 
 
44 
 
 EDUCATIONAL PRINCIPLES. 
 
 \\ 
 
 m 
 
 m 
 
 ■■'V 
 
 ^'} 
 
 ¥ V 
 
 f 
 
 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. 
 
 45 
 
 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 ? 
 
 m 
 
 
 m 
 m 
 
a ^ 
 
 
 % 
 
 46 
 
 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. 
 
 49 
 
 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 
 
 11 
 
 ■\\\ 
 
 
P" 
 
 K. : 
 
 ii 
 
 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. 
 
 49 
 
 
 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 
 
 4' 
 
 I 
 
 «>i' 
 
 1 'I 
 
 I, 
 
 \ 
 
n^ 
 
 50 
 
 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. 
 
 51 
 
 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 
 
 1 
 
 
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. 
 
 53 
 
 IS 
 
 le 
 
 
 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 
 
 i ;; 
 
 $A 
 
 PSYCHICAL PROCESSES. 
 
 1 
 
 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. 
 
 53 
 
 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 
 
 
 I 
 

 56 
 
 PSYCHICAL PROCESSES. 
 
 il 
 
 I 
 
 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. 
 
 SI 
 
 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. 
 
 v 
 
 i 
 
 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. 
 
 59 
 
 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 
 
 
6o 
 
 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. 
 
 61 
 
 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 ; 
 
 in 
 
 •i 1 
 
 :i" 
 
 I I 
 
 i * 
 
 11 
 
 I 
 
IMAGE EVALUATION 
 TEST TARGET (MT-3) 
 
 
 
 1.0 !Sia HM 
 
 1.25 
 
 ■' [III 4 
 
 1.4 
 
 12.2 
 
 M 
 1.6 
 
 ^] 
 
 <^ 
 
 /a 
 
 CP, 
 
 
 ■<r^ '^Z 
 
 <? 
 
 e'M o\ 
 
 'o 
 
 
 /. 
 
 Ovm 
 
 /^ 
 
 Sciences 
 Corporation 
 
 V 
 
 s 
 
 V 
 
 ^q> 
 
 .V 
 
 r 
 
 :\ 
 
 \ 
 
 
 <^< 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 ^« 
 
 c> 
 
 % 
 
 \;^ 
 
 
 23 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 
 
 (716) 872-4503 
 

 Uc 
 
 ^ 
 
62 
 
 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. 
 
 63 
 
 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 
 
64 
 
 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. 
 
 65 
 
 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. 
 
 1 
 
 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 
 
 E 
 
66 
 
 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. 
 
 67 
 
 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 
 
 1- 
 
 
 I 
 
68 
 
 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. 
 
 69 
 
 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 
 
 \\ 
 
70 
 
 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. 
 
 ii 
 
 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 
 
 ■I 
 
72 
 
 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. 
 
 i 
 
74 
 
 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. 
 
 IS 
 
 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. 
 
 n 
 
 ■ ■ ij 
 
 ! (.1 
 
 tJi 
 
 
P" 
 
 76 
 
 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. 
 
 77 
 
 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," 
 
 il 
 
 
78 
 
 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 
 
mm 
 
 
 INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT. 
 
 79 
 
 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 
 
 ;■>' 
 
 
8o 
 
 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. 
 
 8i 
 
 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- 
 
 F 
 
 1 1 
 
 ^1 
 
 " 1. 
 
82 
 
 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. 
 
 83 
 
 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 
 
m 
 
 INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT. 
 
 or 
 
 85 
 
 (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 
 
 m\ 
 
 (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 
 
86 
 
 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. 
 
n 
 
 INTELLECTUAL DLVELOPMENT. 
 
 87 
 
 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. 
 
 m 
 
 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> 
 
 88 
 
 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. 
 
 89 
 
 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 
 
 M 
 
 A 
 
90 
 
 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 
 
 Ml 
 
^. . 
 
 TRAINING OF PERCEPTION. 
 
 91 
 
 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 
 
92 
 
 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. 
 
 93 
 
 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 
 
 
 
94 
 
 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. 
 
 95 
 
 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 
 
 I ■ ■ 
 
96 
 
 INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT. 
 
 I 
 
 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. 
 
 97 
 
 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 
 
 G 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 I 
 
 11 
 
 i.i' 
 
98 
 
 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. 
 
 99 
 
 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. 
 
 i 
 
 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 
 
 Y) 
 
loa 
 
 IMAGINATION. 
 
 \h 
 
 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. 
 
no 
 
 rORMS or EMOTIONAL DEVKLOPMKNT. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE FORMS OF EMOTIONAL DEVELOPMENT. 
 
 '!i 
 
 \t 
 
 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. 
 
 "3 
 
 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 
 
tM 
 
 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. 
 
 "S 
 
 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- 
 
 II 
 
 ! 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. 
 
 I; 
 
 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 
 
130 
 
 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 ( 
 
 Ii 
 
 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. 
 
 r 
 
 I 
 
 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. 
 
 "5 
 
 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. 
 
 I 
 
 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 
 
 
I JO 
 
 FORMS or VOLITIONAL DEVELOPMENT. 
 
 I 
 
 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, 
 
If 
 
 ! 
 
 
 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- 
 
w 
 
 '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. 
 
 P 
 
 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 
 
 t 
 
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 
 
n 
 
 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 
 
 I 
 
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. 
 
 I 
 
 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- 
 
r' 
 
 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. 
 
 H9 
 
 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. 
 
\ ' 
 
 ll 
 
 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' 
 
n 
 
 II 
 
 »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. 
 
IMAGE EVALUATION 
 TEST TARGET (MT-3) 
 
 1.0 
 
 I.I 
 
 '"IIIIIM |||||M 
 
 iiiin o 
 
 " 12.0 
 
 ri' ill 
 
 1.25 ilii 
 
 1.8 
 
 1-4 III 1.6 
 
 V] 
 
 m 
 
 a 
 
 'W 
 
 m 
 
 % 
 
 
 7^" 
 
 o 
 
 7 
 
 /A 
 
 PholDgraphic 
 
 Sdences 
 
 Corporation 
 
 23 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, NY. 14580 
 
 (716) 872-4503 
 
 \ 
 
 iV 
 
 ^<b 
 
 V 
 
 ^ 
 
 \\ 
 
 ^"l^ <» 
 
 6^ 
 
 4. 
 
 <^ 
 
 ^^<^ 
 
 v^ 
 
^% 
 
 <? 
 
 ^ 
 
 o^ 
 
 
nr 
 
 'S6 
 
 MIND AND BODY. 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 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. 
 
 It 
 
ire; 
 up 
 
 rith 
 
 ikes 
 
 the 
 
 of 
 
 Isoul 
 
 can 
 
 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. 
 
 m 
 
 ■'hi 
 
 i 
 
 mi 
 
 ■'H*B 
 
 .■ill 
 
 i't' ill 
 
 ^m 
 
 m 
 
'S8 
 
 MIND AND BODY. 
 
 |! 
 
 n; 
 
 'I;' 
 
 !i, 
 
 
 C 
 
 ;;.;<. 
 
 
 I i'-i 
 
 i 
 
 
 it^ti^^ 
 
 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. 
 
 nn 
 
 ■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." 
 
 
 
 

 ii 
 
 Ml- 
 
 \\ 
 
 1 
 
 l! 
 
 1, 
 1 
 
 ,: 
 
 ill 
 
 ^1 
 
 m 
 ijii 
 
 il ! 
 
 I'' 
 
 I ' 
 
 i6o 
 
 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. 
 
 4- 
 
 i. 
 
 
'r 
 
 If 
 
 i 
 
 rii i : 
 ■■•I ! ' 
 
 'J^ 
 
 I' !l 
 
 ^U 
 
 162 
 
 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. 
 
 1 
 
 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. 
 
 ■ I'l 
 
 ''■■S\ 
 
164 
 
 SUMMARY or PRINCIPLES. 
 
 
 n 
 
 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 
 
 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 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, 
 
 
w 
 
 i II f 
 
 
 
 (I 
 j 
 
 Ife 
 
 1 68 
 
 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. 
 
1H 
 
 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. 
 
 JM 
 
 It'! 
 
 i;^ 
 
 
 -OJ 
 
I 1 
 
 HIV 
 
 !i!i 
 
 
 Hi 
 
 
 170 
 
 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 
 
Tt?^aBife«i 
 
 I'l 
 
 173 
 
 SUMMARY OF PRINCIPLES. 
 
 i 
 
 '■•'J! 
 
 Ill 
 
 it? 
 I, I If 
 
 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 
 
M. 
 
 li SI 
 
 ■' i 
 
 \i ■§■■ 
 
 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- 
 
 II 
 
 
Ifi 
 
 i;: 
 
 I 
 
 !■ 
 
 4 
 
 i 
 
 «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 
 
 m 
 
 m 
 
 m 
 
 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- 
 is of 
 main 
 nedi- 
 n all, 
 id by 
 s but 
 epart- 
 jst as, 
 : food 
 iivous 
 
 upon 
 rithout 
 tion of 
 itional 
 >arts of 
 ; struc- 
 
 in an 
 what It 
 ince it. 
 
 1 got by 
 ridently 
 
 by the 
 d which 
 his end. 
 idential, 
 s, moral 
 Lining of 
 
 is also 
 ttention, 
 ow, after 
 iperficial 
 
 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. 
 
 I 
 
 \ 1 
 r ; 
 
 P. 
 
 M 
 
 it 
 
 T 
 
 m 
 
 mmm 
 
[ jini«n» 
 
 180 
 
 SUMMARY OF PRINCIPLES. 
 
 %' 
 
 p.; 
 
 iti-:i 
 
 (it 
 11) 
 
 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- 
 
m 
 
 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 
 
 v1 
 
 
 
 V 
 
 :::fC 
 - i V -ij 1 
 
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 
 
 ;»'! 
 
 :-.:! 
 
 m 
 
 tni 
 
 MHM 
 
i86 
 
 SUMMARY OP PRINCIPLES. 
 
 A; ji 
 
 I 
 
 ■4-1 
 
 ; I 
 
 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 
 
 
UMMU4SMh«BpVV* 
 
 i ' ' > r > i«v«iM'j.mim » i 
 
 \\r 
 
 x88 
 
 METHOD OF INTERROGATION. 
 
 J. 
 i; 
 
 'f 
 
 II U >': 
 
 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. 
 
VJ 
 
 m 
 
 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. 
 
 IW 
 
 i 
 
 v., 
 
 % \ 
 »•■}■ 
 
 
■ -■jiii-' i >" vn nuati^lfitittgfgti^lgf 
 
 mmmmmmmm 
 
 MvnMMM 
 
 190 
 
 METHOD OF INTERROGATION. 
 
 f 
 
 1: 
 
 ill 
 
 i li 
 
 [Mi: 
 
 lii' 
 
 t!^ 
 
 1: 
 
 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 
 
 m 
 
 
 ■ ^ 
 
 .J 
 
 :iH\ 
 
■ » ip i j, i W r i i ttL 11 1 
 
 mmm 
 
 an 
 
 I 
 
 
 ft 
 
 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 
 
 I 
 
 i:.:-! 
 
 is,'! 
 
 ^ 
 

 
 iFi: 
 
 ii: 
 
 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- 
 
 i 
 
 s, 
 
 I 
 
 ii 
 
■n 
 
 196 
 
 METHOD OF INTERROGATION. 
 
 iil' 
 
 ■ 
 
 'flH 
 
 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 
 
 B 
 
 ,1 
 
 it 
 
 i . m 
 
 V : i .1 
 
 11 
 
 ■?■ .,r, 
 *•, ■ 
 
198 
 
 METHOD OF INTERROGATION. 
 
 i 
 
 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. 
 
 I 
 
 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 
 
 I 
 
 ■ "r 
 
 f, 
 
 li 
 
 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, 
 
 I I 
 I 
 % I 
 
mtmmm 
 
 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 
 
 i 
 
 % 
 
 B)», 
 
 I 
 
 f^^ 
 
 i 
 
206 
 
 METHOD OF INTERROGATION. 
 
 II 
 
 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. 
 
 Mi 
 
 
 i 
 
 il 
 
 i 
 
 r; 
 
 
 \ i 
 
 I t 
 
 li 
 
 '1' 
 
 I 
 I 
 
 ¥ 
 
 
 v! 
 
 : ! 
 . .J 
 
 mm 
 
 
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 
 
 close 
 
 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 
 
 V 
 
 n 
 
 I 
 
 i'M 
 
 W 
 
 « % 
 
 i 8 " 
 
aio 
 
 METHOD or INTERROOATIOIf. 
 
 II 
 
 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 
 
 • 
 
 J 
 
 rr 
 
««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 
 
 i 
 
 
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 
 
 am 
 
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 
 
 .1 
 
 m 
 
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- 
 
 By 
 
 >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, 
 
 A 
 
 i 
 
•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. »- 
 
 be 
 
 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 
 
 of 
 
 as 
 
 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 
 
 f 
 
 m 
 
 ^r'^ 
 
mZ 
 
 METHOD OP INTERROGATION. 
 
 't i 
 
 4 
 
 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 
 
 ^*^^ 
 
 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. 
 
 h 
 
 m 
 
 
Jib ^ac a i juj t im 
 
 
 11 
 
 23a 
 
 METHOD OF INTERROGATION. 
 
 
 i 
 
 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). 
 
 11 
 
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- 
 
 r 
 
234 
 
 METHOD or INTfiRftOOATION. 
 
 n 
 
 h 
 
 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. 
 
 .1 
 
236 
 
 METHOD or INTERROGATION. 
 
 1^ 
 
 !'- 
 
 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. 
 
 I 
 
 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 
 
t 
 
 M! •! 
 
 
 I 
 
 
 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 
 
 to 
 
 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 
 
 I 
 
iftiiria 
 
 ■ta^MuMi 
 
 s 
 
 ' 
 
 'W 
 
 (' 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. 
 
 US 
 
 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 
 
 d. 
 
 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 
 
 I 
 
mmumtummm^mtm^n 
 
 I i 
 
 i 
 
 
 I ' 
 
 : i I ii \' 
 
 . 
 
 ^1 
 
 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. 
 
 M7 
 
 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 
 
 f 
 
m 
 
 'I 
 
 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 
 
 f 
 

 
 X. 
 
 o^/\1>Tx% 
 
 IMAGE EVALUATION 
 TEST TARGET (MT-3) 
 
 1.0 
 
 I.I 
 
 j 5 "'"== 
 
 2.5 
 
 iiim IIIIIZ2 
 
 iio nil 2.0 
 
 1.8 
 
 
 1.25 1.4 1.6 
 
 
 ■« 6" 
 
 ► 
 
 
 Vi 
 
 /a 
 
 .^^ 
 
 
 5>' 
 
 <s> 
 
 C'^ o> 
 
 o 
 
 7 
 
 ///. 
 
 Photographic 
 
 Sciences 
 Coiporation 
 
 23 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, N.Y. 14S80 
 
 (716) 872-4503 
 
 \ 
 
 iV 
 
 ^<b 
 
 V 
 
 ^^ 
 
 <? 
 
 'O 
 
 :i? 
 
 %^ 
 
 :\ 
 
 \ 
 
 ^c 
 
 C)\ 
 
 ^ 
 
.;^ 
 
 <? 
 
 
 &?/ 
 
 1 
 
 6^ 
 
 <> 
 
250 
 
 METHOD OF INTERROGATION. 
 
 If 
 
 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'^ 
 
 1 
 
 I v 
 
 i 
 
 II 
 
 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, 
 
 if 
 
254 
 
 KINDERGARTEN WORK AND SELF-INSTRUCTION. 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
 !^ 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. 
 
 'n 
 
^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. 
 
 ]t 
 
 ^^ 
 
 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. 
 
 if 
 
■ '.i i 
 
 264 
 
 RtNt>ERGAftTfeN WOkk AND SEttr-lNStHUCTION. 
 
 .!t 
 
 (c) They may build from a diagram placed upon the board, 
 or printed on a large sheet 
 
 (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 
 
 'I 
 
 1^ 
 
 rick to 
 
 suggest 
 ottom. 
 
 I place 
 side ; 
 tc. 
 
 ^ 
 
 ff=Ff . 
 
2Cy6 KINDERGARTEN WORK AND SELFlNSTRUCTIuN. 
 
 !:'* 
 
KINDKKGARTEN WuRK AXO SELF-INSTRUCTION. 
 
 267 
 
 R 
 
 _/ 
 
 L 
 
 m 
 
 Wlien the teacher has thus created, at the dictation of the 
 pupils, a number of forms such as the following, it will be found 
 
 r 
 
 U 
 
 r 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 — — — 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. 
 
 n 
 
'I 
 
 i 
 
 268 
 
 KINDERGARTEN WORK AN'D StLF-IXSTRUCTION. 
 
 il 
 
 (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. 
 
 i\ 
 
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, 
 
 'i 
 
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. 
 
 V^ 
 
 for his 
 lid pro- 
 >rder to 
 should 
 
 m. 
 
 ilready 
 1 their 
 urithout 
 able in 
 
 by the 
 i forms 
 •awrif as 
 
 
 ;t 
 
 well for 
 The 
 
 |o. 3» by 
 
 n page 
 l274are 
 
 square 
 )f these 
 ^e, some 
 ig to the 
 
 maybe 
 
 id the 
 familiar 
 
 I 
 
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: 
 
 nv 
 
 I! 
 
 ■I I 
 
 i. 
 
 ;l- 
 
 J~ 
 
 fti. 
 
 ^^ 
 
 ^'xt 
 
 ^"^ 
 
 " ^ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 1 ~V'- 
 
 
 i± -L 
 
 tr .Th 
 
 1 
 
 1 i 
 1 \- - 
 
 
 i ■ -« 
 
 X. i nnuuwi l ll—a II ■» JMl "i ' ' l i jia 
 
KINDERGARTEN WORK AND SELF INSTRUCTION. ij" 
 
 ?v 
 
n 
 
 «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. 
 
 i 
 
 •'> -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. 
 
 (c) They have a much better command of language. 
 
 (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- 
 
 more 
 
 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 = 
 
 20 
 
 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. 
 
 (c) The nature of the winds sweeping over it. 
 
 {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. 
 
 1 
 
 % 
 
 3 
 
 4 
 
 5 
 
 6 
 
 T 
 
 8 
 
 9 
 
 I 
 
 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 
 
 II 
 
 
 1 + 2 
 
 
 
 3 + 3 
 
 4+3 
 
 5 + 3 
 
 6 + 3 
 
 
 Vit 
 
 
 1 + 3 
 
 2 + 3 
 
 
 
 4 + 4 
 
 5 + 4 
 
 O+I 
 
 
 13 
 
 
 1+4 
 
 2 + 4 
 
 3 + 4 
 
 
 
 9 + 2 
 
 10+2 
 
 
 14 
 
 
 1 + 5 
 
 2 + 5 
 
 3 + 5 
 
 4 + 5 
 
 8 + 3 
 
 9 + 3 
 
 10 + 3 
 
 
 15 
 
 
 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 
 
 
 IT 
 
 
 1+8 
 
 
 6 + 6 
 
 7 + 6 
 
 84-6 
 
 9 + 6 
 
 10+6 
 
 
 18 
 
 
 5 + 6 
 
 
 
 7+7 
 
 8 + 7 
 
 9+7 
 
 10+7 
 
 
 19 
 
 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 
 
 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 
 
 10 
 
 ♦ 
 ♦ 
 
 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. 
 
 L 
 
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' 
 
 I 
 
 {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)