Where any of these subjects may be utilized in the ordinary instruction of children the results are more permanent and direct than where the same sort of instruction has been attempted with material that appeals less strenuously to the soul of the learner. That which arouses the most intense activity makes the most lasting impression. Even where the impression is a painful one the result endures; as in old England the memory of landmarks was impressed upon young boys by showing and flogging the boys at once. The unreasoning pain and the sight of the landmark remained forever associated. Modern research has found that pleasant sensation opens the mind and that attention is easily concentrated where inclination also leads. Whatever is discovered by the pupil while thoroughly aroused is of most lasting value. The ideas which school men have for centuries been trying to beat into the minds of children by senseless and dull repetition have been found to be easy of acquisition and in many instances matters almost of intuition if they may first be brought into the consciousness in a natural manner.
The instructor who has not the time nor the tact and invention needed to open the minds of his pupils first and then arrange matters so that self-directed activity will follow, will have a great deal of hard work before him if he hopes to compete with those who have found the secret of the mind's growth and act upon it intelligently. Such teaching cannot produce the results which are now being acquired in our best schools.
A whole system of education could be arranged with bird life as material for arousing and fixing the interest of the learner. But this is not our purpose. A whole system should take in all of the universe that is capable of interesting the learner. Our purpose is to take the most intensely absorbing field and show how it may be tilled. Birds are used because so much more and better activity is to be secured by using them as the material for school work than from any other.
Why birds are so commanding to the growing mind will become clear to one who will patiently follow the thought in the remainder of this article. In avoiding technical terms the statement has been weakened, but it is believed that those who would enjoy the reading better if the terms were technical and closely accurate do not need to have the matter stated to them at all. Hence the statement is made in the terms of common speech with the object in mind of giving the reasons to those not much accustomed to the terms used by writers on psychological topics.
The mind is somewhat like the eye. It takes in whatever is before it. It is never concentrated upon one object alone, but has to occupy itself to some extent with the surroundings of the object. It is impossible to fix the mind, or the attention, exclusively upon one thing. We frequently ask our pupils to do this, but it is impossible. The mind at any one instant resembles the surface of a wave of water, part of what it carries is low, another part higher, and some other things are highest. But few things can be at or near the crest at once. Many things are around the base. As with the eye a few objects are at or near the focus, many things are where they are sensed but are not in the supreme position. And as the wave of water runs along its course so the mind moves forward. It will either run directly away from the subject or it will turn the subject over and carry it along in continually changing aspects. The mind cannot stand still. It cannot keep anything more than an instant except by turning the thing about and perceiving it in relation to other things. We still consider we have the thing in mind after we have ceased to think of it as a whole and pass on to thinking of its relations to other things.
The mind differs from the wave of water in that it is not extensive to the right and left of its course. It is like a hill with a small crest that can hold but few objects upon its surface. When we say we are thinking profoundly upon a subject we mean that that subject and its connections are continuously upon the crest of the wave, and that unrelated things are either not in the mind at all or they are at least not at the focus.
The things that are in the mind but not focal are continually striving, as if they were alive and very active to get at the focal point. Just as the eye is continually tempted to wander, making one object after another its focal one, so the mind is bound to travel unless it has been trained to turn from the thing to its relations and related things and from them back to the main thing again. That is the only way to pay attention. You cannot pay attention to one physical thing for more than an instant. But you can hold a chain of connected things running through the mind, but the things are continually modified by their relations and the absolutely same thing is never again in the mind. When it appears again it is clothed upon or enlarged or modified by what the mind has discovered about it and its relations or has invented and attached to it.
It is easy to repeat the multiplication table without having it focal in the mind. You may read half a page of print with your focal point upon some other matter. You may pray and find in your mind at the same moment a wicked thought. Worse than this, you may continue your prayer and the wicked thought may become focal. Not by your desire that it shall be so, but by the power of marginal things in the mind which makes them focal without your apparent anticipation or desire to have them at the focus. You cannot say that the multiplication table is not in the mind when you are repeating it and wondering who will be at the party this evening. It is there but not focal. When you are reading the words of the page the words may be in your mind, but the focal point may be occupied at the time by wondering how the baby learned to climb so young and guessing whether you ought to catch her or run the risk of her falling, and if she should fall how much she would be injured, what the people would think of you for sitting there and letting her fall, why babies have to fall so much, whether they really learn much about slipping or center of gravity by falls so early in life, and a thousand other items in child study. But the reading is in your mind much as it used to be when your teacher said to you, "Now I want to see you keep your eyes on your book for fifteen minutes without looking off."
The mind grows at first by use of the senses. The sight is the main instrument of youthful mental growth. Things which can be seen or visually remembered are most appropriate subjects for juvenile thinking. You cannot well converse with children upon the pleasures of hope, the uses of adversity, nor any of the forms of mind stuff that are called abstractions. True, they like to play upon words and commit them to memory so as to reproduce them. But this is not because of the real meaning of the words committed but because the ear is pleased. Children enjoy talking like adults as well as looking and acting like them in their unstudied masquerades.
The proper material for juvenile mind action is what may be acquired by the senses. All those subjects in the second paragraph of this article are mainly appeals to the senses. These readily become focal in any mind, but chiefly in the mind that has never been trained away from the senses by abstract thinking. No child can pay attention to anything else when a bird flies in at the window. The bird and its act, its motive, its fellows, its appearance, its nest, its young, and a thousand other notions rush to the focus of his mind, no matter how diligently he may strive to keep them down. Instead of repressing in the mind what is naturally inclined to become focal, education is now finding out the value of permitting these things to come naturally into the mind and so operating upon them that mental growth ensues with little or no friction, and without asking the learner to flagellate himself continually that he may have knowledge to use in that distant and half-believed-in time when he shall be a man.