A. Reading
As for the other studies with which Journeys is correlated, we shall take them up one by one and at greater length. First in importance is reading. This is always first in importance in school, for every other study depends upon it. In fact the prime motive of Journeys is to teach reading, and it will teach reading in the school and in the home. The child who has read what these books have to offer in the way that these books teach will have a power that cannot be taken from him, and his position in class and elsewhere will be raised immediately. Besides the fund of information he will have acquired he will have made for himself a habit that will always benefit him. Every study in the books from the first page to the last is a help in reading, and all the lessons of this volume are directed to reading. But there are three or more long chapters in this volume which take up the different methods of reading and apply them to selections on all conceivable subjects dealt with in Journeys. To these chapters on reading the teacher and the parent who wants to be informed are directed. The treatment is simple and not above the effort of anyone, and the method will appeal to all high school students of literature, for it is the method of the best teachers of that subject.
B. Language
There are two distinct phases of the teaching of language: pupils must be taught to speak and to write with ease, fluency and correctness. There are very few children who do not like to talk. It is as natural to them as to breathe. But as soon as they begin to speak we begin to correct their speech. Much of our criticism is given publicly, at least before other children, some of whom are known to speak more fluently and correctly than those whose errors are being criticized. In consequence, the children begin to doubt themselves, to hesitate, and gradually to lose their desire to talk. In fact, so timid and reluctant do they become that by the time they have been in school a few years many teachers find their greatest difficulty in getting pupils to recite well or to talk naturally. Perhaps before and after school and at recess they will converse freely and delightfully, but as soon as their classes are called they become reticent and ill at ease. Not all of this lack of spirit is due to the teacher, but some of it is. In any event it is an unfortunate condition, and the teacher is anxious to remove it.
At home a similar condition prevails. If the parents are themselves accurate in speech and alive to the importance of making their children good talkers and users of correct English they will be ready with criticism, and unless they are careful will do their share to repress the natural frankness of child nature. Parents who have been teachers are quite as liable to err as others are to remain in ignorance in attempting to understand the psychology of the child mind. Freedom of conversation on topics of interest where correct models of speech are always before the child will accomplish more in making cultivated speech than will twice as much direct instruction. If only parents will read the things that the children are reading and affect an interest in those things they can be certain of giving the best training, while they themselves will grow in happiness and nearness to their offspring. In the fields of literature they can stray together with the consciousness that with all the beauty there is nothing to corrupt.
In a lesser degree, perhaps, the same facts are true in written language, in composition. But in lessons of this type the instructor will not find conditions so favorable: Talking is natural, writing is artificial; to speak is instinctive, to write is an art of difficult attainment. In the first place, a child must be taught to form strange characters with his hand. After he acquires facility in that, he must think, put this thoughts into words in his mind, and then laboriously transfer his words, letter by letter, to the paper before him. Many a child who talks well cannot write a respectable letter. His thoughts outrun his hand, and by the time the first labored sentence is written his ideas have fled and he must begin again. Is it any wonder that his sentences are disconnected, his thought meager?
Just think what it means to a child to write you a letter, or even a brief paragraph! Suppose he wants to tell you about a dog he has at home. He begins by thinking: “My dog, Ben, is a pretty little woolly fellow with bright eyes and long silky ears,” and then his thoughts run off vaguely into the general idea that he is going to tell you about some very cute tricks Ben can perform. The child is all enthusiasm and he begins writing and thinking something like this: “My (that word must begin with a capital letter) dog (‘Ben’ must begin with a capital, too) Ben is a (is that ‘pritty’ or ‘pretty’? It’s pronounced ‘pritty’ anyhow) pritty (that don’t look right. Scratch it out!) pretty (well, that don’t, I mean doesn’t look right either, but I’ll leave it) (For goodness sake, how do you spell it? ‘Wooly’? ‘wolly’? ‘woolly’? I guess I had it right at first) wooly fellow (where shall I put the commas? I’ll leave ‘em out. Teacher can put them in if she wants them.) with bright eyes and long slicky (no, no, that isn’t right! How funny! Scratch it out.) silky ears. (I nearly forgot the period. Now what was I going to say next?).” When he is through, his first sentence is like this: “My dog Ben is a pretty little wooly fellow with bright eyes and long silky ears.” He looks at his work with doubt and disgust as he scratches his head for the next idea. He has wholly forgotten what he intended to tell about! Later, his work, wholly unsatisfactory to himself comes to you for criticism and you take your blue pencil or your pen with red ink and put in the marks if any are needed, indicate the misspelled words and sigh as you say, “Will Charlie ever learn to write a decent composition?” Certainly he will, when his writing becomes mechanical, when his hand makes the letters, puts in the marks, and his lower brain spells the words for him, without disturbing the higher cells which are occupied with his ideas.
These are the diverse problems that confront anyone who tries to teach language to a child. We cannot solve them all, but most certainly we can lend some assistance.