The application is readily made. Introduce the abecedarian to but one letter at first. Describe it to him familiarly. Fix its contour distinctly in his mind. Compare it with things with which he is acquainted, if it will admit of such comparison. It might be well to make the letter upon a slate or black-board. When he shall have become acquainted with one letter so as to know it any where, introduce him to another. After he becomes acquainted with the second, let him again point out the first. As he learns new letters, he will thus retain a knowledge of those he has previously learned. It is immaterial where we commence, provided two conditions are fulfilled. It would be well to have the first letters as simple in their construction, and as easily described, as possible. It would be well, also, to have them so selected as to combine and form simple words, with which the child is familiar. He will thus become encouraged in his first efforts.
Suppose we commence with O, and tell the child that it is round; that it is shaped like the button on his coat, or like a penny, which might be shown to him. After the child has become somewhat familiar with its shape and name, suppose we inquire what there was on the breakfast table shaped like O. It may be necessary to name a few articles, as knives, forks, spoons, plates. Before there is time to proceed further, the child, in nine cases out of ten, will say, "The plates look like O." Suppose we next take X, which may be represented by crossing the fore-fingers, or two little sticks. We can now teach the child that these two letters, combined, spell ox. We might then tell him a familiar story about oxen; that we put a yoke on them; that they draw the cart, etc.; and that cart-wheels are great O's. Suppose we take B next. We might tell the child that it is a straight line with two bows on the right side of it, and that it is shaped some like the ox-yoke. We might then instruct him that these three letters, B, O, and X, combined, spell box; that its top and sides are rectangles, and that its ends are squares, if they are so. The child has now learned three letters, two words, and a score of ideas. He, moreover, likes to go to school. Any other method in which children would be equally interested might be pursued instead of this, which is only introduced as a specimen of the manner in which the alphabet has been successfully taught.[74] Better methods may be devised.
Second. The Roman notation table is sometimes taught after the same manner. After spelling, I have heard the teacher say to the class, One I.? to which the scholar at the head would reply, one; and the exercise would continue through the class, as follows: two I.'s? two; three I.'s? three; IV.? four; and so on, to two X.'s? twenty; three X.'s? twenty-one. No, says the teacher, thirty. Thus corrected, the class went through the entire table, without making another mistake. The thought occurred to me that they did not know their lesson, though they had recited it, making but one mistake. With the permission of the teacher, I inquired of the class, "What does IV. stand for?" None of them could tell. I then inquired, "What do VII. stand for?" They all shook their heads. I next inquired, "What does IX. stand for?" and the teacher remarked, "They have just got it learnt the other way; they ha'n't learnt it that way yet." They had all learned to count; they hence recited correctly to twenty; and when told that three X.'s stand for thirty instead of twenty-one, they passed on readily to forty, fifty, sixty, etc., without making another mistake. And this, too, is but a specimen of the evil.
In teaching this table, the child should be instructed, in the beginning, that there are but seven letters used, by which all numbers may be represented; that when standing alone, I. represents one; V., five; X., ten; L., fifty; C, one hundred; D., five hundred; and M., one thousand. The child should next be taught that, as often as a letter is repeated, so many times its value is repeated; thus, X. represents ten; two X.'s, twenty; three X.'s, thirty, etc.; that when a letter representing a less number is placed after one representing a greater, its value is to be added; thus, VII. represent seven; LX., sixty, etc.; that when a letter representing a less number is placed before one representing a greater, its value is to be subtracted; thus, IV. represents four; IX., nine; XL., forty, etc. When the child understands what is here presented, he has the key to the whole matter. He is acquainted with the principle upon which the tables are constructed, and a little practice will enable him to apply it, as well to what is not in the table as to what is in it. I have known scholars study that table faithfully four months, and then have but an imperfect knowledge of what was in the book. I have known others who, with one hour's study, after five minutes' instruction in the principles here laid down, understood the table perfectly, and could recite it, without making a single mistake, even before they had studied the whole of it once over.
Third. The manner in which reading is generally taught is hardly superior to the modes of instruction already considered. In many instances, commendable effort is made to secure correct pronunciation, and a proper observance of the inflections and pauses. But there is a great lack in understanding what is read. When visiting schools, with the permission of the teacher, I usually interrogate reading classes with reference to the meaning of what they have read. Occasionally I receive answers that give satisfactory evidences of correct instruction. Generally, however, the scholars have no distinct idea concerning the author's meaning. They, astonished, sometimes say, "I didn't know as the meaning has any thing to do with reading; I try to pronounce the words right, and mind the stops." Teachers sometimes say their scholars are poor readers, and it takes all their attention to pronounce their words correctly. They therefore do not wish to have them try to understand what they read, thinking it would be a hinderance to them. They occasionally justify themselves in the course they pursue, saying, "I don't have time to question my classes on their reading, nor hardly time to look over and correct mistakes." At the same time they will read three or four times around, twice a day or oftener. The idea prevails extensively, judging from the practice of teachers, that the value of their services depends upon the extent of the various exercises of the school. If the classes can read several times around, twice a day, and spell two or three pages, teachers frequently think they have done well, even though one half of the mistakes in reading are uncorrected, and one fourth or more of the words in the spelling lessons are misspelled, to say nothing of understanding what is read. The majority of schools might be very much improved by conducting them upon the principle that "what is worth doing at all is worth doing well." I am fully satisfied that it is incomparably better for classes to read once around, once a day, and understand what they read, than to read four times around, four times a day, without understanding their lessons. Scholars should, indeed, never be allowed to read what is beyond their comprehension; and great pains should be taken to see that they actually understand every lesson, and every book read. The early formation of such a habit will be of incalculable value in after life.
I will introduce one extract from my note-book by way of illustration. The reader will please observe that it relates to neither a back district nor an inexperienced teacher.
"This is one of the oldest and most important districts in town. The school is taught by an experienced and highly-reputable teacher. The first class in the English Reader read the section entitled 'The Journey of a Day; a Picture of Human Life.' Obidah had been contemplating the beauties of nature, visiting cascades, viewing prospects, etc., and in these amusements the hours passed away uncounted, till 'day vanished from before him, and a sudden tempest gathered around his head;' when, it is said, 'he beheld through the brambles the glimmer of a taper.' I inquired of the class, 'What is a taper?' No one replied. I added, 'It is either the sun, a light, a house, or a man,' whereupon one replied, 'the sun;' another, 'a house;' another still, 'a house;' and still another, 'a man.' I next inquired, 'What does glimmer mean?' No reply being given, I added, 'It either means a light, the shadow, the top, or the bottom.' They then replied successively as follows: 'Top, shadow, bottom,' which would give their several ideas of the phrase, 'the glimmer of a taper,' as follows: The shadow of a house. The top of a man. The bottom of the sun, etc. It should be borne in mind, the class had just read that this 'taper' was discovered after 'day had vanished from sight.'"
This example is selected from among more than a hundred, scores of which are more striking illustrations than the one introduced, which is selected because it occurred in the first class of an important school, taught by an experienced and highly-reputable teacher.
The habit of reading without understanding originates mainly in the circumstance that the books put into the hands of children are to them uninteresting. The style and matter are often above their comprehension. It is impossible, for example, for children at an early age to understand the English Reader, a work which frequently constitutes their only reading-book (at least in school) when but seven years of age. The English Reader is an excellent book, and would grace the library of any gentleman. But it requires a better knowledge of language, and more maturity of mind than is often possessed by children ten years old, to understand it, and to be interested in its perusal. Hence its use induces the habit of "pronouncing the words and minding the stops," with hardly a single successful effort to arrive at the idea of the author. To this early-formed habit may be traced the prevailing indifference, and, in some instances, aversion to reading, manifested not only in childhood, but in after life.
The matter and style of the reading-book should be adapted to the capacity and taste of the learner. The teacher should see that it is well understood, and then it can hardly prove uninteresting, or be otherwise than well read. Children should read less in school than they ordinarily do, and greater pains should be taken to have them understand every sentence, and word even, of what they do read. They will thus become more interested in their reading, and read much more extensively, not only while young, but in after life, and with incomparably more profit.