Einstein, the searcher

by Alexander Moszkowski

"You are referring," I interposed, "to the distress which pupils feel in the time allotted to mathematics. There are actually people of considerable intelligence who seem to be smitten with absolute stupidity when confronted with mathematics, and whose school-life becomes poisoned owing to the torment caused by this subject. There are many cases of living surgeons, lawyers, historians, and litterateurs, who, till late in life, are visited by dreams of their earlier mathematical ordeals. Their horror has a very real foundation, for, whereas the pupil who is bad at Latin yet manages to get an idea of the language, and he who is weak in history has at least a notion of what is being discussed, the one who is unmathematical by nature has to worry his way through numberless lessons in a subject which is entirely incomprehensible to him, as if belonging to another world and being presented to him in a totally strange tongue. He is expected to answer questions, the sense of which he cannot even guess, and to solve problems, every word and every figure of which glares at him like a sphinx of evil omen. Sitting on each side of him are pupils to whom this is merely play, and some of whom could complete the whole of school mathematics within a few months at express rate. This leads to a contrast between the pupils, which may press with tragical force on the unfortunate member throughout his whole school existence. That is why a reform is to be welcomed that sifts out in time those who should be separated from the rest, and which adapts the school curriculum as closely as possible to individual talents."

Einstein called my attention to the fact that this division had already been made in many schools in foreign countries, as in France and in Denmark, although not so exclusively as suggested by him. "Moreover," he added, "I am by no means decided whether the torments that you mentioned are founded primarily on absence of talent in the pupil. I feel much more inclined to throw the responsibility in most cases on the absence of talent in the teacher. Most teachers waste their time by asking questions which are intended to discover what a pupil does not know, whereas the true art of questioning has for its purpose to discover what the pupil knows or is capable of knowing. Whenever sins of this sort are committed—and they occur in all branches of knowledge—the personality of the teacher is mostly at fault. The results of the class furnish an index for the quality of the preceptor. All things being taken into consideration, the average of ability in the class moves, with only slight fluctuations, about mean values, with which tolerably satisfactory results may be obtained. If the progress of the class is not up to this standard, we must not speak of a bad year but rather of an inefficient instructor. It may be assumed that, as a rule, the teacher understands the subject with which he is entrusted, and has mastered its content, but not that he knows how to impart his information in an interesting manner. This is almost always the source of the trouble. If the teacher generates an atmosphere of boredom, the progress is stunted in the suffocating surroundings. To know how to teach is to be able to make the subject of instruction interesting, to present it, even if it happens to be abstract, so that the soul of the pupil resonates in sympathy with that of his instructor, and so that the curiosity of the pupil is never allowed to wane."

"That is in itself an ideal postulate. If we assume it to be fulfilled, how do you wish to see the subjects distributed in the curriculum?"

"We must leave the detailed discussion of this question for another occasion. One of the main points would be the economy of time; all that is superfluous, vexatious, and only intended as a drill must be dropped. At present the aim of the whole course is the leaving certificate. This test must be given up!"

"Is that serious. Professor? Do you wish to do away with the examination for matriculation?"

"Exactly. For it is like some fearful monster guarding our exit from school, throwing its shadow far ahead, and compelling teacher and pupil to work incessantly towards an artificial show of knowledge. This examination has been elevated by forcible means to a level which the violently drilled candidates can keep only for a few hours, and is then lost to sight for ever. If it is eliminated, it will carry away with it this painful drilling of the memory; it will no longer be necessary to hammer in for years what will be entirely forgotten within a few months, and what deserves to be forgotten. Let us return to Nature, which upholds the principle of getting the maximum amount of effect from the minimum of effort, whereas the matriculation test does exactly the opposite."

"Yes, but who is then to be allowed to enter the university?"

"Every one who has shown himself to be capable not only in a crucial test of an accidental kind, but in his whole behaviour. The teacher will be the judge of this, and if he does not know who is qualified, he again is to be blamed. He will find it so much the easier to decide who is sufficiently advanced to obtain a leaving certificate, in proportion as the curriculum has weighed less on the minds of the young people. Six hours a day should be ample—four at school and two for home-work; that should be the maximum. If this should appear too little to you, I must ask you to bear in mind that a young mind is being subjected to strain even in leisure hours, as it has to receive a whole world of perceptions. And if you ask how the steadily increasing curriculum is to be covered in this very moderate number of hours, my answer is: Throw all that is unnecessary overboard! I count as unnecessary the major part of the subject that is called 'Universal History,' and which is, as a rule, nothing more than a blurred mass of history compressed into dry tables of names and dates. This subject should be brought within the narrowest possible limits, and should be presented only in broad outline, without dates having to be crammed. Leave as many gaps as you like, especially in ancient history; they will not make themselves felt in our ordinary existences. In nowise can I regard it as a misfortune if the pupil learns nothing of Alexander the Great, and of the dozens of other conquerors whose documentary remains burden his memory like so much useless ballast. If he is to get a glimpse of the grey dawn of time, let him be spared from Cyrus, Artaxerxes, and Vercingetorix, but rather tell him something of the pioneers of civilization, Archimedes, Ptolemy, Hero, Appolonius, and of inventors and discoverers, so that the course does not resolve into a series of adventures and massacres."

"Would it not be expedient," I interrupted, "to take some of the history time to branch off into an elementary treatment of the real evolution of the state, including sociology and the legal code?"

Einstein does not consider this desirable, although he himself is deeply interested in all manifestations of public life. He does not favour an elementary political training received at school, presumably above all owing to the fact that in this branch the instruction cannot be removed from official influences, and because political questions require the attention of a mature mind. His picture of how a youth is to meet the requirements of modern life is something quite different, far removed from all theories. His whole efforts are directed at finding a means of counteracting the tendency to overburden one side of the youthful mind. "I should demand the introduction of compulsory practical work. Every pupil must learn some handicraft. He should be able to choose for himself which it is to be, but I should allow no one to grow up without having gained some technique, either as a joiner, bookbinder, locksmith, or member of any other trade, and without having delivered some useful product of his trade."