Education and life

by James H. Baker

We can but accept the principles of Protagoras, that the essential qualities of a rational and moral being are to be considered at each stage of growth and in all relations of life; that all education is to be the ally of virtue. We can but accept, too, the fact that guidance, instruction, and authority help to bring the child to self-realization, and help to determine modes of conduct. The remaining question relates to the ways and means adapted to a given stage of education. When the pupil enters the high school he is already a trained being. His training, however, has been more or less mechanical. He is now at an age when his capacity, his studies, and his social relations admit him to a broader field—a field in which he makes essays at independent action; when his physical development brings new problems and dangers; when contact with the world begins to acquaint him with the vicious maxims of selfish men; when there is a tendency to break away from the moral codes, without the wisdom of experience to guide him in his growing freedom. It is a critical period—one that tests in new ways his mental and moral balance. If the pupil is not wrecked here, he has many chances in his favor, although the college or business life or society may later sorely tempt him. That the teachings and influences of the period of secondary education have much to do with making character is recognized by the colleges. Some schools become known for the vigor of their intellectual and ethical training, and the successful preparation of their pupils to meet the demands and temptations of college life. The subject of ethics in the high school thus becomes a proper one for inquiry.

Shall we employ the formal study of ethics? Hardly. The scientific or theoretical treatment of the subject belongs to the period of reflection, of subjective insight, and should follow psychology, if not philosophy. Such study hardly accomplishes much practically until experience and reflection have given one an interest in the deepest problems of life. It belongs to a period when the commonplaces are fraught with meaning, when a rational conviction has the force which Socrates gave to insight into wisdom—when to understand virtue is to conform the life to it. But, nevertheless, the whole period of high-school work should be a contribution to the end of moral character. Let us get rid, at the outset, of the idea that a moral life is a mechanical obedience to rules and conventionalities, a cut-and-dried affair, a matter that lies in but one province of our nature, a formalism, and learn that the whole being, its purposes and activities, the heroic impulses and the commonplace duties lie within its circle. Everything a man is and does, learns and becomes, constitutes his moral character.

Ethics is the science of conduct—conduct on both its subjective and its objective side. It considers the relation of the self to all consequences of an act as foreseen and chosen by the self, and to the same consequences as outwardly expressed. Practically it teaches control of impulse with reference to results as expressing and revealing the character—results both immediate and remote. Some acts show a one-sided inclination, uncontrolled by regard for the claims of other and better impulses; only a part of the individual is asserted, not the whole self in perfect balance. For example, the pupil plays truant, acting with sole regard for the impulse to seek ease and sensuous pleasure. He neglects other more important impulses, all of which might have been satisfied by attending faithfully to his school duties: the impulse of ambition, to gain power and become a useful and successful citizen; the desire for culture, with all its superior values; the impulse of wonder, leading ever to the acquisition of knowledge; the impulse of admiration, to seek and appreciate the beautiful; the filial and social affections, which regard the feelings and wishes of the home and the sentiments of companions; the impulse to gratitude, as shown toward parents and teachers; the sentiment of reverence, as shown toward law and order and those who stand as their representatives. And all these neglected demands rise up and condemn him; he is divided from himself and his fair judgment, is not his complete self. On the other hand, the pupil spends the day in devotion to work, he maintains the integrity and balance of his nature, gives each impulse due consideration and makes a symmetrical and moral advance in his development. In restraining the impulse to play truant, he does justice to all the claims of his being; the resulting values as estimated in subjective experiences are the highest possible—the act is good. The problem, then, is to bring the pupil to a fuller understanding of the character of his impulses to action, and the relative value of each. In many ways the neglected elements of his nature may be brought into consciousness and emphasized. Everything that creates conceptions of ideal conduct, all concrete illustrations in the social life of the school, all conscious exercise of power in right ways, contribute toward his self-realization. The high-school pupil has not had a large personal experience; hence the need, in the ways proposed, of teaching virtue. In the first place, the situation is advantageous. It is conceded by every school of ethical thinkers that one finds his moral awakening in contact with society. Society is the mirror in which one sees a reflection of himself, and comes to realize himself and his character. The school of the people, which is in an important sense an epitome of that larger world which he is to enter, furnishes an admirable field for development. Moreover, it is a community where the restraint, the guidance, the ideals come of right from properly constituted authority. The whole problem of objective relations and corresponding subjective values may find illustration and experiment in the daily life of the school. The constructive imagination may be employed to infer from experiences in school to larger experiences of kindred quality in the field of life. By judging real or supposed cases of conduct the pupil makes at least a theoretical choice. By learning and interpreting characters and events in history his view is broadened.

The whole school curriculum should contribute to moral development. Whatever of intellect, emotion, and will is exercised in a rational field expands the soul normally. The pursuit of studies with the right spirit, and with regard for the activities and relations incidental thereto, is moral growth. Studies awaken rational interest, cultivate habits of industry, are devoted to the discovery of truth, reveal important relations of the individual to society, and present the purest ideals of the race. There is hardly a more valuable moralizer than healthy employment itself, employment that engages the whole man—perception, imagination, thought, emotion, and will—employment that looks toward ennobling and useful consequences, employment that has the sanction of every consideration that regards man’s full development. If the studies of the high-school course do not make for good, it is because they fail to get hold of the pupil, to awaken his interest and energies. If the subject matter and the instruction are adapted to the pupil’s need, if conceptions are clearly grasped, if healthy interest is aroused and the attention turns spontaneously to the work, the pupil’s growth will be in every way beneficent. One who regards the moral development of his pupils will conscientiously study the method of his teaching, and learn whether the source of neglect and rebellion lies there.

The personality of the teacher is one of the most important factors in ethical training. It is ethics teaching by example; it is the living embodiment of conduct. The ideas that find expression in the life of the teacher are likely to be imitated. The sympathy of the teacher with the endeavor of the pupil infuses life into his effort. We do not refer to a certain kind of personal magnetism; this may be pernicious in the extreme. It may exist to the extent of partially hypnotizing the independent life of the pupil, robbing him for a time of part of his individuality. The ideal instructor should be earnest and noble, impressing one with the goodness, dignity, and meaning of life. An easy-going regard for duties, a half-way attachment to labor are sure to impress themselves on the minds of pupils; as readily will honor, sincerity, and pure ideals be reflected in their endeavors. You will ask: What are some of the specific ways in which a teacher may direct his efforts? We often look far for the means of accomplishment when they are already at hand. The means of moral influence are not the exclusive possession of learning or genius; they may be used by every teacher, and we should have faith in what the schools are already doing to make good character. The successful use of methods depends upon the teacher’s judgment and tact. One may do harm by conscientious but ill-directed effort. With Solomon we must remember that there is a time for everything. Amongst other impulses, natural or acquired, the pupil has impulses to regard honor, honesty, truthfulness, gentlemanliness, good thoughts, respect, gratitude, sympathy, industry, usefulness. In a fit of rage, with desire to harm the object of his vindictiveness, he may disregard nearly every one of the above qualities. The impulse of anger acts blindly, heedless of external consequences and of the subjective values that attach to the execution of every desire. All cases of bad conduct, varying in degree, show a similar disproportionate estimate of the value of motives. Our problem is to plant in the consciousness of the pupil an appreciation of neglected qualities. It may be noted in passing that there are some cases of physical tendency, amounting to monomania. Conscious wrong never is able fully to conceal itself, and when the truth becomes evident to the teacher, as it may, he should seek the confidence of the home, and through the home the influence upon the pupil of a trusted physician who possesses both medical skill and moral force.

In approaching the specific ways of moral education, we may first make our obeisance to habit. The limitations as to time, place, and activity, which are incidental to all school life, help to form habits which turn the growing youth still more from the condition of uncontrolled liberty into one of well-regulated conduct, civilize him, and make him a fit member of society. Habits of regard for the rights of others further lay the foundation of altruism. Habit has its value. It establishes tendencies of conduct, although in a more or less mechanical way, which make easier the adherence to virtue in the advanced period of reflective insight. Too, these same duties mechanically performed may later be known in their full significance, and become moral acts.

The judicious use of maxims, also, has a value. Maxims are the first formal expression of the experience of the race as to the things to do or avoid. Since we act from ideas, maxims may serve practically for many concrete cases. This is especially true if the full meaning of a maxim has been presented. Next to maxims, and greater in importance, are the events and characters of history and biography. Embodied virtues and vices, real events that show the movements and reveal the motives of a people, appeal strongly to the interest. Yet, being remote in time and place, they allow the freest discussion and may be made permanent types for the instruction and improvement of mankind. The value lies in the fact that qualities thus known hasten the self-realization of the same qualities. The life of a Socrates, an Aristides, of a Cato, a Savonarola, a Luther, a Cromwell, a Lincoln, a Whittier, of all men and women who exemplify virtue, heroism, self-denial, all struggles for the right, are the high-water mark for every aspiring nature. And in the teaching of history and biography it is not necessary at every turn to deliver a homily; rather lead the pupil into the spirit and understanding of the subject—some things shine with their own light.

A yet more fertile source of ideal conceptions is the choice literature of the world. From this rich treasury we draw the poetry which we apply to life. In literature truth is given life and color, idealized and made attractive. Qualities are abstracted, refined, perfected, and glorified. They serve to show us the meaning of those qualities in us. Literature presents emotions that in their purity and refinement seem to transcend the material world; heroes and martyrs idealized and embodying self-sacrifice and devotion; sentiments that touch the whole range of chords in the heart and awaken tenderness or heroism. The pupil reads Homer and gains conceptions of heroic virtues; the “Lays of Ancient Rome,” and gains ideas of perfect honor and devotion to country; Tennyson, and he follows the pure conceptions and feels that life has taken on a nobler coloring; Carlyle’s doctrine of work and duty, and feels his moral sinews strengthened. Thoughts that aspire, emotions of transcendent worth, courage, heroism, benevolence, devotion to country or humanity—all these are at the command of the instructor, if he has the skill to lead the pupil into the spirit and understanding of literature. If he has not the skill, let him not touch it.

The study of science itself offers opportunities. Science searches for truth, judges not hastily, removes all prejudice, employs the judicial spirit. It should suggest lessons in fairness, justice, and truth in the field of human conduct. Hasty inference, prejudiced judgment are responsible for half the sins of this world, and the scientific spirit should be made to pass from the abstract field over into practical life.

Something can be done by daily assembly of pupils. While men have various occupations, there are certain interests that belong to men as men, as human beings. As there are hymns set to noble music which are sung for centuries without diminution of interest, because they are adapted to the want of man’s essential nature, so there are gems of æsthetic and ethical literature which have stood the test of time and are approved by common consent. The reading of vigorous, healthful selections can but have an influence sooner or later upon the listener. The teacher, in a brief address, may express some thought or experience or ideal or sentiment, that will reach the inner life. In no way, however, will the good sense and skill of the teacher be put to severer test than in the selection of these teachings. They easily become monotonous instead of giving vital interest.