Thinking and learning to think

by Nathan Christ Schaeffer

No one stands in greater need of the discipline derived from the use of the pen than those who overflow with words and sentences. Their dearth of ideas can be remedied in no other way. The sentence which escapes from the lips is fleeting and soon forgotten. The sentence in black and white, which stares you in the face from the written page, can be read and re-read until its lack of sense and its wealth of nonsense and absurdity grow too glaring to be endured. Paragraph after paragraph can thus be tested, condensed, and stuffed full of meaning. This discipline ultimately enables a fluent talker to speak with force and to the point, because it gradually transforms his habits of thinking, deepening the stream of thought and enabling it to carry craft too weighty to be borne by a shallow stream.

Hesitating speakers.

The person who is afflicted with hesitation and embarrassment also stands in sore need of the discipline of writing. In the solitude of the home one can take time to find and fix the right word, to weave it into sentences that stand the test of grammar, logic, and rhetoric, and to arrange a line of thought from which everything irrelevant is excluded. Embarrassment vanishes with the advent of the feeling that one has something to say. The growth of language, which invariably accompanies the evolution and clarification of thought, corrects hesitation. Soon the hands drop to the side or obey the will in gesture, and the feeling of ease begins to color the delivery. Nothing more beneficial can happen to a young preacher than the call to preach the same discourse a number of times in succession, each time to a different audience. Repetition will make him a master of the train of ideas, improving his phraseology, and deeping the stream of thought. Who has not watched with delight the improvement in the presentation of a lecture heard from the same lips half a dozen times in succession? The change for the better was due to the deepening, straightening, and improvement of the channel in which the stream of thought seems to flow.

Writing.

If a student several times each month during a college course writes out and fixes a line of argument for a debate, he can acquire the power to fix and retain the thoughts as fast as he writes. The habit of memorizing the words is, of course, pernicious, because it is apt to make him the slave of his manuscript, to destroy his freedom in meeting the blows of an antagonist, and to divest him of the glow of feeling and animation which gives force to the delivery while the mind is engaged in the elaboration of the argument. The sequence of ideas rather than of words should be fixed in the mind, very much as the student of Euclid fixes in his mind, not the words, but the ideas which constitute the chain of proof. This kind of practice gives a young speaker the sense of security without destroying his freedom in modifying the line of thought while standing upon his feet.

Criticism.

From this point of view the folly of much criticism in teaching is very apparent. The current of thought is frequently interrupted by drawing attention at the wrong time to mistakes in grammar and errors of pronunciation. The proper time for such criticism is after the movement of thought has reached the goal; and even then the critic should not call attention to too many defects at one time; otherwise the effect will be to discourage and bewilder the pupil.

The thought.

The stream of thought is the most essential thing in writing, speaking, and oral reading. The management of face and hands and feet, the postures of the body, and the vocal utterance should, of course, not be neglected. The intelligent counsel of a good friend is needed to point out mannerisms and eccentricities. The practice prescribed by a wise teacher is helpful in pruning the delivery of defects and harmful habits which are sure to grow where attention to the thought sinks the delivery into the subconscious realm. Nevertheless, the main thing in writing and speaking is the stream of thought. A profound truth was stated by the Kentucky backwoodsman, who said that he would have it in him to become as great an orator as Henry Clay, were it not that he found himself lacking in two things: Whenever a favorable opportunity for a great speech presented itself he never knew what to say nor how to say it. The how is more easily acquired than the what. Both should receive attention, from the kindergarten to the university. The getting of something to say is invention. It is the one thing in which special teachers and special courses give least help. The power of invention is acquired by years of effort and discipline. Tributaries from many sources must pour into the stream of thought before it becomes full, copious, and capable of carrying great thoughts, or of supplying the motive power for great undertakings.

Hinderances.