A brief course in the teaching process

by George D. Strayer

It would be a good thing for every teacher to ask herself whether while under her direction the children whom she teaches are usually mentally alert, thinking, asking questions, or whether they concern themselves only with repeating the thoughts of others. If there be any doubt with regard to the children’s natural aptitude, let her observe them when out of school and contrast the result. Mental laziness is a habit acquired in spite of our initial advantage, in spite of our desire for knowledge and the pleasure which comes from thinking. The school and the teacher must always be judged by their success in keeping children awake mentally; for it is power to learn rather than knowledge which counts in later years, and learning is most of all dependent upon the initial impulses toward inquiry.

Ownership: Very early in the life of the child the idea of personal ownership develops. There can be no doubt concerning the importance of this instinct in its effect upon the achievements of men, but we are concerned chiefly, in dealing with children, with one aspect of this tendency which is commonly known as the collecting instinct. This desire to have the most complete collection of buttons, postage stamps, pictures, birds’ eggs, shells, arrowheads, or whatever else it may be, may often be utilized to great advantage. Illustrative material for work in history, geography, nature study, and to some degree for other subjects can be had in this way. Such a collection will mean not only a much greater interest in the work, but also a livelier appreciation of the subject, more images upon which to base its generalizations. I have never seen a class that learned more geography in a short time than was mastered by a class who followed the American fleet around the world, collecting pictures, products, and stamps for each of the countries visited, and writing a full account of the country visited to accompany these illustrations. Another class made most interesting collections in connection with their study of colonial history. It is a mistake to suppose that ready-made collections will answer the same purpose. They may illustrate better, but the added interest and enthusiasm growing out of the exercise of the collecting instinct will be wanting.

The collecting instinct may be utilized in work which deals with ideas rather than things. Children may be just as keen in collecting ideas about a subject in which they are much interested as in making their collection of stones, or birds. The transition from the one type of collecting to the other is apparent, in collections which are interesting mainly for the ideas which they suggest.

The Social Instinct: The school has often overemphasized the individualistic point of view. Competition is a legitimate motive; but if all of school life centers around this motive, the child has lost much in the non-exercise of that peculiarly human instinct which demands coöperation and sympathy. At the foundation of our society is the idea of working together for the common good. Boys and girls who are to be most useful to their fellows, who are to do the most for society, i.e. those who are truly educated, must have kept alive and developed this spirit, more than altruistic, which sees in the good of society the greatest individual gain. In a later chapter this topic will be dealt with in considerable detail; suffice it to say here that many opportunities should be found for group projects, for service on the part of each member of the group of the sort that he is particularly qualified to render.

Wonder: The instinct of wonder or awe, closely related to or possibly identified with the religious instinct, is one that our modern critically scientific attitude tends to discourage. No one who has had the experience can doubt the value of this element in mental life. To wonder at the glory of the heavens will doubtless make more difference in the lives of most men and women than the smattering of astronomy they may acquire. The man who wonders at the manifestation of the power of the forces of nature may get more real joy out of life than he who feels that he has solved all of her mysteries. We are not as a people remarkable for our reverence. It may be well urged that our schools have often been responsible for the opposite attitude. This instinct of wonder will thrive only in a sympathetic atmosphere. No teacher can directly inculcate or develop it. Only that teacher who has preserved and nurtured the instinct in her own life can hope to be effective in keeping alive the same spirit in children.

In the first chapter it was claimed that teachers should work to develop the socially sympathetic, intelligent, and active individual, and that the ends to be expected from any exercises might be classified as habits, knowledge, interests, ideals or appreciations, and methods of work. In our discussion of the native reactions of children, we have endeavored to show that the possibilities of such accomplishment are the common possession of normal children. It is for the teacher who would accomplish these ends most economically to discover the instinctive basis for the habit to be formed, the knowledge to be acquired, interest to be awakened, or appreciation to be aroused. The instinctive interests of children will furnish the most powerful motives, and will serve as a basis for the most lasting results. Even when the native reaction is undesirable, the successful process may depend not merely upon negation, but upon a grafting upon the original tendency of one that is socially desirable; or, in other cases, the substitution of another reaction based upon some other instinctive tendency. We may not always follow where instinct seems to lead, but we can never ignore these native tendencies. Whether we blindly ignore or attempt to work against nature, or wisely utilize the instincts, the fact remains that all of our work is conditioned by the native equipment.

It has become more or less the fashion in recent years to decry the theory of those who discuss the teaching process from the standpoint of the child’s native tendencies, and with due regard to his interests. The reactionary who continually harks back to the good old times is still with us. The term of ridicule most commonly used in lieu of argument is “soft pedagogy.” We are told that the only way to develop men and women of strength is to begin by making sure that we make our appeal on the basis of our superior authority, or even brute strength, instead of finding the foundation for our work in the instinctive curiosity and tendency to mental activity with which children come to us. It is presumed by those who argue on the side of the importance of authority that, unless children are compelled by others to do hard tasks, they will never attempt anything that involves effort. Again, they interpret interest to mean the blind following of the child’s instinctive tendencies.

In our previous discussion we endeavored to show that education concerns itself quite as much with the inhibition of undesirable tendencies as with the encouragement of those which lead to desirable activity. The process is not one of following where children lead, but rather of availing ourselves of the native tendencies in order that the ends we desire to achieve may be accomplished with the least waste of time or energy. In reality, the choice between the two positions is not whether we will have regard for childish instincts and capacities, but rather whether we shall approach our task from the standpoint of one who has faith in an appeal to the lower motive of fear, or whether we believe that children are best prepared for later activity who work out their own problems.

The best teaching can never consist in driving pupils to tasks which they do not understand and which have little significance for them. The standard of efficiency is found in ability to present to the child a need, a purpose, or a problem which solicits his attention. It may be that we shall be but imperfectly able to accomplish this result, but, nevertheless, this must be our ideal. And it is not for reasons of sentiment that we adopt it. The learning process is explained in this way only. We make a new adjustment, reconstruct our experience only in a situation which makes such a demand upon us. When a child is compelled to do a piece of school work without realizing the significance of that which he does, there is substituted for this realization of need or problem an artificial need; namely, to avoid an unpleasant consequence.

There is another important argument which must not be overlooked. When a child works under compulsion, he usually gives just as little attention to his work as may be necessary to escape painful results. It is not uncommon for children to divide their attention most skillfully between distasteful school tasks and the out-of-school activities in which they are vitally interested. This lack of undivided attention to the work in hand results in a habit of work which cannot fail to be disastrous to the highest intellectual attainment. It is true also that children who have been subjected to such treatment come to look upon books and lessons as something of a nightmare, and are only too glad when the opportunity presents itself to leave school and go to work. The child’s attitude, growing out of his school experience, is quite as important as any result which we may achieve in knowledge.