A brief course in the teaching process

by George D. Strayer

Professor Dewey’s summary of the relation of interest and effort defines most adequately interest in its true significance, and indicates the place of effort in educative process. He says:—

“Genuine interest in education is the accompaniment of the identification, through action, of the self with some object or idea, because of the necessity of that object or idea for the maintenance of self-expression. Effort, in the sense in which it may be opposed to interest, implies a separation between the self and the fact to be mastered or the task to be performed, and sets up an habitual division of activities. Externally, we have mechanical habits with no psychical end or value. Internally, we have random energy or mind-wandering, a sequence of ideas with no end at all because not brought to a focus in action. Interest, in the sense in which it is opposed to effort, means simply an excitation of the sense organ to give pleasure, resulting in strain on one side and listlessness on the other.

“But when we recognize there are certain powers within the child urgent for development, needing to be acted upon, in order to secure their own due efficiency and discipline, we have a firm basis upon which to build. Effort arises normally in the attempt to give full operation, and thus growth and completion, to these powers. Adequately to act upon these impulses involves seriousness, absorption, definiteness of purpose, and results in formation of steadiness and persistent habit in the service of worthy ends. But this effort never degenerates into drudgery, nor mere strain of dead lift, because interest abides—the self is concerned throughout.”[3]

Interest, as Professor Dewey defines it, is intrinsic. The pupil does his work not because he hopes to escape some punishment or get a high mark, but because the work of itself commands his attention. The teacher must constantly choose whether she will work for interest of this type, which depends upon the recognition of the worth of the task to be performed, or resort to an interest which has no relation to the work to be done. Shall she appeal to the child through his instinctive delight in finding out, in constructive work, or other form of expression, or shall she appeal to his instinct of fear of a whipping or dislike of ridicule or nagging?

It is true that, after the teacher has done her best to appeal on the basis of the child’s needs for growth and development, not all children will respond equally, and so, as in the larger society outside of school, the child will need to be kept from interfering with others, and required to do that which those who are wiser have decided that it is advantageous for him to do. But this resort to authority, an acknowledgment of lack of ability on our part or the result of unfavorable conditions, must come last; it should never be the point of departure.

There is one other distinction which it is well to keep in mind when we think of interest. Our discussion thus far has considered interest as a means for securing certain desirable ends. We may not forget that to secure interest which will persist in many of the types of activity found in the school should be considered as an end worthy in itself.[4] We may hope to have a boy interested in his history lesson in order that he may gain the knowledge contained in this subject. Interest is the means we employ to secure the desired result. On the other hand, we may hope that the boy we teach will continue to be interested in history throughout his life. In this latter case the interest which we hope to secure in history becomes an end for which we work. As a result of any system of education, we are justified in expecting, not only an increase in the command of facts and in a knowledge of the best method of procedure in working in subjects taught, but also in hoping for the development of lasting interests which will make for a continuance of the period of education and for greater joy in life.

Heredity in Education: An inquiry into opposing theories of heredity is not relevant to our main purpose; but we are concerned with certain facts, commonly accepted, which condition our work. No one will dispute the fact that the children assembled in any schoolroom differ in native capacity, as well as in experience. Whether genius or its lack are apt to be reproduced in the children of gifted or dull parents is not the question the teacher has to solve. For her the demand is too often that she turn out a uniform product from a group of individuals who range from the genius to the dullard or mental defective. It is well for teachers to realize that in any non-selected group the majority of individuals may be expected to be of ordinary ability, and that a few will range above this standard, and a few will fall below. The important thing to remember is that a group of normal children cannot be ranged in ability in two or three distinct groups with clearly defined boundaries, but that if any adequate test be given, we will find that they distribute themselves over a wide range, with small rather than large differences between individuals. For example: if a searching test in fundamental operations of arithmetic is given, we know that some child will probably get nearly all of the work done correctly, and, even with our care in grading, some child in the group will probably fail in more than half of the work; and that between these two extremes we will have almost every grade of ability represented, with a tendency for a considerable number to group themselves at about that point which we consider ordinary or average ability.[5] Not only is it true that individuals differ in ability of any particular sort, but it is also true that the child who has little ability in one direction may be up to the average or have more than usual ability in some other direction. In our teaching we should have a minimum standard of efficiency for all who are not mentally defective, and we should strive earnestly to have all reach this goal. If wisely selected, this minimum will include that which is absolutely necessary for further advancement along the line of work pursued. The majority of the class should achieve results beyond this minimum, and for the exceptionally bright child the maximum should be fixed only by the child’s ability and the requirements of good health. It is useless to attempt to make all alike; it is wrong to limit the accomplishment of the gifted by the capacity of the majority; these are the lessons which the consideration of the capacities of any group of children should teach. We cannot furnish ability, but we may create an attitude of listlessness and mental laziness, if we do not give the bright child enough to do. Education demands a recognition of peculiar abilities and their nurture. We can never create genius from mediocre ability, and we may not assume that genius is irrepressible.

For Collateral Reading

E. L. Thorndike, Principles of Teaching, Chapters V and VI.

E. L. Thorndike, Individuality.