A. In this way. When I find a pupil stupid, I just stuff the facts into her. She goes on grinding and grinding until she knows off what is necessary. This cramming is an art. If you know how to do it, you can shove the most stupid people through.
Q. Then why do the clever ones sometimes fail?
A. Well, they know most about the subject really, but, as far as I can make out, the examination does not test what you know, still less your general capabilities, but your power of keeping a certain amount of detail in your head for a time and putting it down on paper. People who don’t take it out of themselves with thinking, reasoning, and permanently assimilating, are best able to take in a number of facts after a fashion, and keep them near the surface ready for use. They are better at cramming the particular points that the crammer knows to be of use than the clever people are, and they are generally less sensitive. They are less affected by the weather, and the stuffiness of the place, and all those little things that make so much difference to some people at an examination.
Comment is needless.
I have had some opportunity of observing the cramming system in Germany, and have been struck by the unsatisfactory nature of the results of what goes by the name of education amongst girls of the well-to-do classes. A German lady, who had had experience as a teacher in a large public school, told me that she considered the present system of teaching an entire mistake. “Look at the results,” she said. “How many German women ever open any book but a novel? What do they care for culture? The teacher has no time to interest the girls in what they learn. All there is time for is to cram them with the facts without which they cannot pass the examination. As if true education could be tested by an occasional examination! And the sacrifice of health amongst these young girls is terrible!”
For my own part, I heartily sympathise with German ladies who read nothing but novels. In my childhood I was taught French in England on the most approved methods and at the cost of much hard toil. I afterwards picked up German in Germany itself and in a pleasurable manner. Ever since, the sight or sound of a French word has brought to my mind the recollection of weariness, of being bored, of dry grammar that has been of no earthly use to me, of a deplorable waste of sunshiny hours. But the sight or sound of a German word recalls the soft thud of my horse’s hoofs as I galloped along the natural Rotten Row of the German pine forest; the ring of my skates as I glided swiftly over the frozen meadows; the picturesque old houses standing out against a frosty sky; the band in the Casino gardens; the voice of the soprano at the opera; the magnificent chorus, “Heilig, heilig ist Gott der Herr,” sung at the sacred concert in the old Marktkirche. And so it has come about that while I am fairly well read in German literature, I am lamentably ignorant of French literature. The study of the one is pleasure; the study of the other is pain.
The mental impressions which delight are those that weave themselves healthily into our structure and form a groundwork for future impressions of a like order. Our happiness is composed, not only of the joys of the present, but of the joys of the past. Learning, if it is to be of the highest benefit to us, must before all things be made pleasurable. In a few schools this principle is being recognised, but owing to the low value still put by the community upon the best kind of teaching, the reform is often carried out at the expense of throwing a great strain upon an inadequate teaching staff. In the best of our high schools for girls, the number of teachers is insufficient because the funds are insufficient. We have not yet learnt to appreciate our advantages and to pay a reasonable price for them.
We willingly spend our money on luxuries. Money represents so much energy. And if the energy of the country be spent on that which enervates, while that which improves and develops be left to languish, how are we to avoid deterioration?
But before we spend our money on so called education, let us be sure that it is worthy of the name. Cramming with detail is not beneficial instruction; book-lore is not always wisdom; pedantry has nothing to do with culture. It is a trite saying, but none the less true, that the only positive knowledge we are capable of acquiring is a knowledge of our own boundless ignorance. The first stepping-stone to a right understanding is humility.