Transcriber’s Notes

This e-text contains a translation of Herbart’s Umriss pädagogischer Vorlesungen, the main text of which is divided into numbered paragraphs. De Garmo’s annotations are represented here as indented text in the same font size as the main text. Herbart’s own annotations are also indented and have the run-in heading “Note” and are in smaller font.

OUTLINES OF EDUCATIONAL
DOCTRINE

OUTLINES OF EDUCATIONAL
DOCTRINE

BY

JOHN FREDERICK HERBART

TRANSLATED BY

ALEXIS F. LANGE, Ph.D.

Associate Professor of English and Scandinavian Philology, and
Dean of the Faculty of the College of Letters,
University of California

ANNOTATED BY

CHARLES DE GARMO, Ph.D.

Professor of the Science and Art of Education,
Cornell University

New York
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
LONDON: MACMILLAN & CO., Ltd.
1904

All rights reserved

Copyright, 1901,
By THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.

Set up and electrotyped. Published February, 1901. Reprinted June, 1904.

Norwood Press
J. S. Cushing & Co.—Berwick & Smith Co.
Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.

PREFACE

The reasons for translating and annotating Herbart’s “Outlines” are, first, to present to the English-speaking public Herbart’s latest, and also his most complete, work on education; and, second, to note to some extent at least the advances made in educational thought since Herbart laid down his pen.

Herbart’s educational writings are distinguished by two marked characteristics: 1, their helpfulness in actual teaching; and 2, their systematic completeness. The thoughtful reader can see the bearing of each part upon all the others; the purposes of education are so completely correlated with the means, that, whether the topic under discussion be apperception or interest or methods of teaching or school government or moral training or the presentation of a particular study, the reader is never at a loss to see the relation of this part to the whole.

The eminent practicability of Herbart’s thought depends upon his psychological point of view, which is always that of concrete experience. The moment one tries to apply rational psychology to actual teaching, one begins to rise into the clouds, to become vague or, at least, general. The reason for this is that rational psychology deals with unchangeable presuppositions of mind. We may conform our work to these standards, but we cannot modify them, any more than we can a law of nature. But when we have to deal with an apperceiving content, we feel at home, for over this we have some control. We can build up moral maxims, we can establish permanent interests, we can reveal the unfolding of whole developments of thought and effort, we can fix the time order of studies and parts of studies; in short, we can apply our pedagogical insight with some degree of success to actual school problems. Though empirical psychology has in the last fifty years had as rapid a development as any other department of science, it has never departed essentially from the direction fixed by Herbart. New methods have indeed been applied, but the leading motive has remained empirical; it has had small tendency to drift toward rational psychology. This fact makes Herbart’s educational thought, so far as psychological bearing is concerned, seem as fresh and modern as when it was first recorded.

In one important respect, however, Herbart’s system needs modernizing. It is in relating education to conditions of society as it now exists. German society has never been that of English-speaking countries; much less does German society of the early part of the nineteenth century correspond to Anglo-Saxon society at the beginning of the twentieth. Indeed, even had there been correspondence before, there would be divergence now. It is one of the main purposes of the annotation, therefore, to point out the social implications of various parts of the “Outlines.”

The annotation has made no attempt to improve Herbart’s prophetic vision concerning many important matters, or to elucidate self-evident propositions, or to supplement observations already complete, true, and apt.

Especial attention is called to the exactness and illuminating character of Herbart’s diagnosis of mental weaknesses and disorders in children, together with his suggestions as to proper treatment. Students of child-study, moreover, will find in this work not only encouragement in their work, but also assistance in determining what is worth studying in the child. The reader is constantly reminded of the fact that, when written by a master, no book is newer than an old one.

Cornell University,

January, 1901.

CONTENTS

PAGE

[Introduction] 1

PART I

THE DOUBLE BASIS OF PEDAGOGICS

CHAPTER

1. [The Ethical Basis] 7
2. [The Psychological Basis] 15

PART II

OUTLINES OF GENERAL PEDAGOGICS

SECTION I. GOVERNMENT OF CHILDREN

1. [Theoretical Aspects] 30
2. [Practical Aspects] 33

SECTION II. INSTRUCTION

1. [The Relation of Instruction to Government and Training] 39
2. [The Aim of Instruction] 44
3. [The Conditions of Many-sidedness] 51
4. [The Conditions Determining Interest] 60
5. [The Main Kinds of Interest] 76
6. [The Material of Instruction from Different Points of View] 93
7. [The Process of Instruction] 105
8. [Remarks on the Plan of Instruction as a Whole] 134

SECTION III. TRAINING

1. [The Relation of Training to Government and to Instruction] 140
2. [The Aim of Training] 143
3. [Differentiation of Character] 146
4. [Differentiation of Morality] 151
5. [Helps in Training] 154
6. [General Method of Training] 160

SECTION IV. SYNOPSIS OF GENERAL PEDAGOGICS FROM THE POINT OF VIEW OF AGE

1. [The First Three Years] 198
2. [The Ages from Four to Eight] 201
3. [Boyhood] 209
4. [Youth] 216

PART III

SPECIAL APPLICATIONS OF PEDAGOGICS

SECTION I. REMARKS ON THE TEACHINGS OF PARTICULAR BRANCHES OF STUDY

1. [Religion] 219
2. [History] 223
3. [Mathematics and Nature Study] 241
4. [Geography] 263
5. [The Mother-tongue] 269
6. [Greek and Latin] 275
7. [Further Specification of Didactics] 289

SECTION II. THE FAULTS OF PUPILS AND THEIR TREATMENT

1. [General Differentiation] 292
2. [The Sources of Moral Weakness] 301
3. [The Effects of Training] 308
4. [Special Faults] 312

SECTION III. REMARKS ON THE ORGANIZATION OF EDUCATION

1. [Home Education] 317
2. [Concerning Schools] 321

OUTLINES OF EDUCATIONAL
DOCTRINE

[ INTRODUCTION]

[1.] The plasticity, or educability, of the pupil is the fundamental postulate of pedagogics.

The concept plasticity, or capacity for being moulded, extends far beyond the confines of pedagogics. It takes in even the primary components of matter. It has been traced as far as the elementary substances entering into the chemical changes of organic bodies. Signs of plasticity of will are found in the souls of the higher animals. Only man, however, exhibits plasticity of will in the direction of moral conduct.

Had not the youthful mind the capacity to receive culture, education would be impossible. This educability of the young has rarely if ever been questioned in actual practice. Much philosophical strife, however, has raged about the various conceptions of WILL, and the consequent possibility of teaching virtue, or of training the moral character. The extremes have been fatalism, or the determination of conduct by means of forces lying entirely outside the power of the individual; and absolute caprice of will, or the determination of conduct entirely by the individual himself without regard to outside influences. The doctrine of fatalism makes moral education mechanical; that of volitional caprice makes it futile. Educational theory must therefore assume a middle ground, in which the self-activity of the individual and the moulding influence of education are both recognized.

[2.] Pedagogics as a science is based on ethics and psychology. The former points out the goal of education; the latter the way, the means, and the obstacles.

This relationship involves the dependence of pedagogics on experience, inasmuch as ethics includes application to experience, while psychology has its starting-point, not in metaphysics alone, but in experience correctly interpreted by metaphysics. But an exclusively empirical knowledge of man will not suffice for pedagogics. It is the less adequate in any age the greater the instability of morals, customs, and opinions; for, as the new gains on the old, generalizations from former observations cease to hold true.

In order to accept the statement that ethics points out the goal of education, we must conceive of ethics in a broad way. At some periods in the history of the world, the development of purely individual, or subjective, character would have been thought a worthy and adequate conception of the final purpose of education. Other-worldliness was the ruling ideal. At present, however, we regard that man as most fit for the world to come who best performs all his functions in the world that now is. Ethics must therefore be conceived to embrace an estimation of the value of a man’s conduct in every department of life. Not only must it estimate the worth of pious feeling, but it must embrace a consideration of every action in its relation to the actor’s social, economic, and political environment. A man having a praiseworthy character must be a good citizen of state, nation, and community; he must be public-spirited, law-abiding, given to honest dealing. Every child should be trained to be a useful member of civilization as it now exists. Piety alone is insufficient; it must be accompanied by honesty, industry, patriotism, public spirit. Non-social, or purely individualistic, conceptions of character as the goal of education must give way to those social ideals through which alone the highest welfare of both individual and community are to be conserved. Without such conceptions an industrial state, such as now exists, becomes a human jungle in which men enter upon a fiercer struggle than do the beasts of the real jungle. Social coöperation is essential when we wish to transform a struggle of mutual destruction into one of mutual helpfulness.

[3.] Philosophical systems, involving either fatalism or its opposite, pure caprice of will, are logically shut out from pedagogics, because the notion of plasticity, implying as it does a transition from the indeterminate to the determinate, cannot by such systems be brought in without inconsistency.

Common sense overcomes the logical difficulties of even the worst systems. Herbart’s remark has, therefore, no practical significance. The philosophy of Spinoza might easily be described by an opponent as “fatalistic,” since it leaves no room for special providences in the physical universe; yet Professor Paulsen, who holds substantially to Spinoza’s view, is one of the most eminent promoters of the theory of education in the university of Berlin. Herbart thought Kant’s doctrine of transcendental will one of absolute volitional caprice, yet the followers of Kant have been among the most energetic promoters of mental and moral training. Herbart thinks he sees in this remark a chance to put his philosophical opponents out of court, to the benefit of his own system. If one philosopher develops a system of “fatalism” and another one of “absolute free will,” the one may be charged with making education impossible and the other with making it futile. In either case, since we know that education is neither impossible nor futile, the presumption is that both systems are defective. This paragraph and others like it are mere indirect methods of defending Herbart’s system of philosophy: they have no real significance for the theory of education itself.

[4.] On the other hand, the assumption of unlimited plasticity is equally inadmissible; it is for psychology to guard against this error. The educability of the child is, to begin with, limited by his individuality. Then, too, the possibility of determining and moulding him at will through education is lessened by time and circumstances. Lastly, the established character of the adult develops by an inner process which in time passes beyond the reach of the educator.

[5.] Education seems thus to find a barrier, first, in the order of nature, and later in the pupil’s own will. The difficulty is indeed a real one, if the limitations of education are overlooked: hence an apparent confirmation of fatalism as well as of the doctrine of absolute free will.

Modern scientific evolutionary study of anthropology and history tends to confirm the hasty thinker in the idea that the circumstances of the environment completely determine the character and destiny of men, since their debt to the moulding influences of society and physical surroundings becomes more and more apparent; yet however powerful the environment may prove to be in fixing the direction of mental growth in the race, it cannot rightly be conceived as creating the growing forces. All the sunshine and warmth in the world will not cause a pebble to sprout; so no external influences whatever can develop mind where there is none to develop. The exigencies of Herbart’s metaphysics drove him into a crusade against Kant’s doctrine of innate freedom, or transcendental will; all the freedom that Herbart would admit was that psychological freedom which is acquired through instruction and training. The quarrel belongs to eighteenth-century metaphysics, not to modern psychology, nor to education; for however potentially free an infant may be, nobody thinks of making it responsible, except so far as growing experience gives it insight and volitional strength.

Note.—Many thinkers fluctuate constantly between these two erroneous extremes. When looking historically at mankind as a whole, they arrive at fatalism, as does Gumplowicz in his “Outlines of Sociology.” Teacher and pupil alike seem to them to be in the current of a mighty stream, not swimming,—that is, self-active,—which would be the correct view, but carried along without wills of their own. They arrive, on the other hand, at the idea of a perfectly free will, when they contemplate the individual and see him resist external influences, the aims of the teacher very often included. Here they fail to comprehend the nature of will, and sacrifice the concept of natural law for that of will. Young teachers can hardly avoid sharing this uncertainty, favored as it is by the philosophies of the day; much is gained, however, when they are able to observe fluctuations of their own views without falling into either extreme.

[6.] The power of education must be neither over- nor under-estimated. The educator should, indeed, try to see how much may be done; but he must always expect that the outcome will warn him to confine his attempts within reasonable bounds. In order not to neglect anything essential, he needs to keep in view the practical bearings of the whole theory of ideas; in order to understand and interpret correctly the data furnished by observation of the child, the teacher must make constant use of psychology.

[7.] In scientific study concepts are separated which in practice must always be kept united. The work of education is continuous. With an eye to every consideration at once, the educator must always endeavor to connect what is to come with what has gone before. Hence a mode of treatment which, following the several periods of school life, simply enumerates the things to be done in sequence, is inadequate in a work on pedagogics. In an appendix this method will serve to facilitate a bird’s-eye view; the discussion of general principles, arranged according to fundamental ideas, must needs precede. But our very first task will necessarily consist in dealing, at least briefly, with the ethical and the psychological basis of pedagogics.

[ PART I
THE DOUBLE BASIS OF PEDAGOGICS]

CHAPTER I
The Ethical Basis

[8.] The term virtue expresses the whole purpose of education. Virtue is the idea of inner freedom which has developed into an abiding actuality in an individual. Whence, as inner freedom is a relation between insight and volition, a double task is at once set before the teacher. It becomes his business to make actual each of these factors separately, in order that later a permanent relationship may result.

Insight is conceived as the perception of what is right or wrong. This perception is founded on the spontaneous, or intuitive, feeling that arises in the mind when certain elementary will-relations are presented to the intelligence. The unperverted mind has a natural antipathy to strife, malevolence, injustice, selfishness; it has a corresponding approval of harmony, good-will, justice, benevolence. These feelings arise, naturally, only when the appropriate ideas are present. Insight, therefore, is a state of feeling or disposition arising from knowledge, or ideas.

When volition has come into permanent accord with educated insight, virtue has been attained. Conscience approves every virtuous act; it disapproves every deviation from virtue. Inner freedom, therefore, is marked by approving conscience; lack of it, by accusing conscience. The development of virtuous character is not so easy, however, as might appear from these simple statements, for virtue has a shifting, not to say a developing character. Elementary as the fundamental ethical ideas may be when presented in the home or in the kindergarten, they are not elementary when met with in modern civilization. At times virtue has been of a military character, as in Sparta and Rome; at other times it has been ecclesiastical, as in the Middle Ages. At the present time, in addition to all that it has ever been from a purely Christian character, it is civil, social, industrial. Virtue in a modern city has a content quite different from that in a pioneer mining camp. Furthermore, virtue is uneven in its development. The race has, for instance, been trained long and hard to respect unprotected property, so that we may fairly say such respect has become instinctive; yet when unprotected property comes into new relations to the individual, as in the case of borrowed books, we may find only a rudimentary conscience. What scholar is not a sufferer from this form of unripe virtue?

[9.] But even here at the outset we need to bear in mind the identity of morality with the effort put forth to realize the permanent actuality of the harmony between insight and volition. To induce the pupil to make this effort is a difficult achievement; at all events, it becomes possible only when the twofold training mentioned above is well under way. It is easy enough, by a study of the example of others, to cultivate theoretical acumen; the moral application to the pupil himself, however, can be made, with hope of success, only in so far as his inclinations and habits have taken a direction in keeping with his insight. If such is not the case, there is danger lest the pupil, after all, knowingly subordinate his correct theoretical judgment to mere prudence. It is thus that evil in the strict sense originates.

It is helpful to give the pupil abundant opportunity to pass judgment upon the moral quality of actions not his own. The best opportunities are at first the most impersonal ones, for where the child himself is immediately concerned, the quality of his judgment may be impaired by intense personal feelings, such as fear of blame or punishment. Literature furnishes the earliest and most copious examples; later, history may be helpful, though there is great danger of taking partial or mistaken views as to the moral quality of historical deeds. A selection of literature is an artistic whole. All the relations can be easily perceived, but any given historical event is likely to be a small section of a whole too vast for the youthful mind to comprehend. It is for this reason that caution is needed when passing judgment upon historical facts.

To encourage the child to pass judgment in these impersonal cases is to sharpen his natural perceptions of right and wrong, and to influence his disposition favorably. One who has been led to condemn cruelty to animals in this way is likely to be more thoughtful himself, and less disposed wantonly to inflict pain. But every resource of authority and persuasion, as well as appeal to sensibility and conscience, must be employed to make virtuous action habitual, and to prevent the generation of evil.

[10.] Of the remaining practical or ethical concepts, the idea of perfection points to health of body and mind; it implies a high regard for both, and their systematic cultivation.

Perfection here means completeness of efficiency, rather than acquisition of holiness. An efficient will is strong, vigorous, decided; it is self-consistent in the pursuit of leading purposes, not vacillating or incoherent. Still, the idea of moral perfection is not a remote one, for, in order to be thoroughly efficient, a will must be in substantial accord with the ethical order of a rational society. All its deviations from established law and custom will be for their improvement, not for the destruction of what is good in them.

[11.] The idea of good-will counsels the educator to ward off temptation to ill-will as long as such temptation might prove dangerous. It is essential, on the other hand, to imbue the pupil with a feeling of respect for good-will.

Good-will is one of the three concrete virtues lying at the basis of social order. It is both passive, as in laissez faire attitudes of mind, and active as in thoroughgoing civic, business, and social coöperation. School training must seek to impress the mind with respect for the active rather than the passive type of good-will. So, too, must it ward off the dangers both of passive and active ill-will, as manifested, in covetousness, malice, malevolence, envy, treachery, stinginess, cruelty, hard-heartedness. How these ends may be attained, will be considered later.

[12.] The idea of justice demands that the pupil abstain from contention. It demands, furthermore, reflection on strife, so that respect for justice may strike deep root.

No idea appeals more strongly to the unperverted youthful mind than that of justice or fair play; even the gentlest natures become indignant at manifestations of injustice. The basis of the idea is, in the thought of our author, our natural displeasure in contention over that which, in the nature of the case, only one person can have. Primarily, it concerns property rights, but secondarily it may extend to other relations in which two or more wills are at issue. Justice in the acquisition, possession, and disposition of wealth is the theme of the greater part of every judicial system. The idea of justice is the second of the three concrete moral virtues necessary for civilized society.

[13.] The idea of equity is especially involved in cases where the pupil has merited punishment as requital for the intentional infliction of pain. Here the degree of punishment must be carefully ascertained and acknowledged as just.

Note.—This kind of punishment should not be confounded with educative punishment—so called, i.e., punishment through natural consequences.

The third concrete moral idea is that of equity, or requital. It arises when existing will-relations are altered either for good or bad. The natural demand is that the requital shall be adequate to the deed. Lack of requital for good deeds we call ingratitude, one of the most hateful of human failings. In savagery and barbarism private vengeance is the normal method of requiting injuries. Remnants of this system still exist in the duel, and in the fierce vendettas of some sparsely settled regions. Civilization demands that requital for evil deeds shall be remanded to the executors of established law. Only in this way is society saved from destructive broils. In this respect, as in so many others, the school is the miniature of the institutional world. The teacher is, to a considerable extent, lawgiver, judge, and executive. Not a small part of his moral influence upon his pupils depends upon the justice of his requitals for violated law. Good-will, justice or rights, and requital are the three fundamental concrete moral ideas upon which sound character, both individual and national, is based. The remaining two are that of inner freedom and that of efficiency. Though formal in character, i.e., devoid of positive content, they are equally important with the more concrete conceptions.

[14.] Where a number of pupils are assembled there arises, naturally, on a small scale, a system of laws and rewards. This system, and the demands which in the world at large spring from the same ideas, must be brought into accord.

The school is a miniature world, to be regulated by the same system of moral ideas as that which obtains in society. Compare [182], [310].

[15.] The concept of an administrative system has great significance for pedagogics, since every pupil, whatever his rank or social status, must be trained for coöperation in the social whole to fit him for usefulness. This requirement may assume very many different forms.

[16.] Of the system of civilization only the aspect of general culture, not that of special training, must be emphasized at this point.

Note.—The principles of practical philosophy which have just been briefly indicated are at the same time the starting-points of ethical insight for the pupils. If the resolve to direct the will accordingly be added, and if the pupil obeys this resolve, such obedience constitutes morality. Quite distinct from this is the obedience yielded, be the motive fear or affection, to the person of the teacher, so long as that higher obedience is not securely established.

[17.] For the business of education, the idea of perfection, while it does not rise into excessive prominence, stands out above all others on account of its uninterrupted application. The teacher discovers in the as yet undeveloped human being a force which requires his incessant attention to intensify, to direct, and to concentrate.

Note.—The maxim perfice te is neither so universal as Wolff asserted, as though it were the sole fundamental principle of ethics, nor so objectionable as Kant represents it to be. Perfection, quantitatively regarded (Vollkommenheit—the state of having come to fulness), is the first urgent task wherever man shows himself lower, smaller, weaker, more narrowly limited, than he might be. Growth, in every sense of the word, is the natural destiny of the child, and the primary condition of whatever else of worth may be expected of him in later life. The principle perfice te was deprived of its true meaning by the attempt to define by it the whole of virtue—a blunder, since no single practical idea ever exhausts the contents of that term. Quite different is the import of the next remark, which applies solely to the practice of pedagogy.

[18.] The constant presence of the idea of perfection easily introduces a false feature into moral education in the strict sense. The pupil may get an erroneous impression as to the relative importance of the lessons, practice, and performance demanded of him, and so be betrayed into the belief that he is essentially perfect when these demands are satisfied.

[19.] For this reason alone, if others were wanting, it is necessary to combine moral education proper, which in everyday life lays stress continually on correct self-determination, with religious training. The notion that something really worthy has been achieved needs to be tempered by humility. Conversely, religious education has need of the moral also to forestall cant and hypocrisy, which are only too apt to appear where morality has not already secured a firm foothold through earnest self-questioning and self-criticism with a view to improvement. Finally, inasmuch as moral training must be put off until after insight and right habits have been acquired, religious education, too, should not be begun too early; nor should it be needlessly delayed.

It is well known what obstacles confront the American teacher who desires to give a religious basis to moral character. For a full discussion of the subject viewed from numerous standpoints, the reader is referred to “Principles of Religious Education,” Longmans, Green & Co., New York, 1900. This book is a series of lectures by prominent school men and others.

[ CHAPTER II
The Psychological Basis]

[20.] It is an error, indeed, to look upon the human soul as an aggregate of all sorts of faculties; but this error only becomes worse when, as is usually done, the statement is added that faculties are after all at bottom one and the same active principle. The traditional terms should rather be employed to distinguish mental phenomena that present themselves to experience as successively predominant. In this way we get the leading features of soul-life, which reminds us sufficiently of psychology for our immediate purpose.

[21.] The stage of predominant sense-activity is followed by that of memory in the sense of exact reproduction of series of percepts previously formed. Traces of higher activities are as yet absent. The only thing to be noted is that the series, unless rendered long by frequent repetition, are generally short; necessarily so, since while forming they are exposed to continual disturbances caused by great sensitiveness to new impressions.

[22.] Even very young children betray at play and in speech that form of self-activity ascribed to imagination.

The most insignificant toys, provided they are movable, occasion changes and combinations of percepts, attended even with strong emotion, that astonish the mature observer, and perhaps excite anxiety lest some of these motley fancies should become fixed ideas. No evil after effects are to be feared, however, so long as the emotional excitement does not threaten health, and passes over quickly. A strong play impulse is, on the contrary, a promising sign, especially when it manifests itself energetically, though late, in weak children.

[23.] Soon there follows a time when the observation of external objects prompts the child to ask innumerable questions. Here that activity which is called power of judgment begins to stir in conjunction with reasoning. The child now strives to subsume what is new under conceptions already in his mind, and to affix their symbols, the familiar words. He is still far, withal, from being able to follow an abstract train of thought, to employ periodic sentences, and to conduct himself rationally throughout. The slightest occasions will prove him a child still.

[24.] In the meantime, the child manifests, besides the physical feelings of pleasure and pain, affection for one person and aversion to another; furthermore, a seemingly strong will, together with a violent spirit of contradiction, unless this is suppressed in time.

[25.] On the other hand, the ethical judgment as a rule shows itself at first very seldom and transiently—a foreshadowing of the difficulty of securing for it later, in spite of obstinacy and selfishness, the function of control, on which control depend both morality and the higher sense of art.

[26.] The boy asks fewer questions, but tries all the more to handle and shape things. He is gaining knowledge by himself and acquiring dexterity. Gradually his respect for his elders increases; he fears their censure and stands in awe of their superiority. At the same time he attaches himself more closely to other boys of the same age. From now on it becomes more difficult to observe him. The teacher who has no previous knowledge of boys who have reached this age, may long deceive himself in regard to them and will seldom obtain complete frankness.

This reserve is indicative of more or less self-determination, which is commonly attributed to pure reason.

[27.] The names for the mental faculties acquire renewed importance with the beginning of systematic instruction. Their import, however, shows a marked difference. Now memory is relied on for the acquisition, without additions or omissions, of prescribed series, the order being fixed or not, as the case may be; usually there is a slight connection with older ideas. Imagination is called for to lay hold of the objects of distant lands and ages. The understanding is expected to derive general notions from a limited number of particulars, to name and to connect them. The development of the ethical judgment teachers rarely wait for; obedience to commands is demanded. Obedience of this kind depends chiefly on the ease with which antecedent ideas are revived and connected in response to, but not beyond, a given stimulus. In extreme cases the fear of punishment effectively takes the place of all other motives. But often not even the usual memory-work can be successfully exacted through fear, much less obedience without oversight.

[28.] Many pupils reveal a curious contrast. In their own sphere they display a good memory, a lively imagination, keen understanding; by the teacher they are credited with little of all these. They rule perhaps over their playmates because of their superior intelligence, or possess at least the respect of the latter, while in their classes they show only incapacity. Such experiences suggest the difficulty of making instruction take proper hold of the inner growth of the pupil. It is evident, at the same time, that what is customarily ascribed to the action of the various mental faculties takes place in certain groups of ideas.

[29.] The grown man has one group of ideas for his church, another for his work at home, a third for society, and so on. These groups, though partially interacting and mutually determinant, are far from being connected at every point. This is true as early as boyhood. The boy has one set of ideas for his school, another for the family circle, still another for the playground, etc. This fact explains better than intentional reserve the observation that a boy is one being at home or at school and quite another among strangers.

[30.] Each body of ideas is made up of complications of ideas, which, if the union is perfect, come and go in consciousness as undivided wholes, and of series, together with their interlacings, whose members unfold successively, one by one, provided they are not checked. The closer the union of parts within these complications and series, the more absolute the laws according to which ideas act in consciousness, the stronger is the resistance against everything opposing their movement; hence the difficulty of acting upon them through instruction. They admit, however, of additions and recombinations, and so may in the course of time undergo essential changes; up to a certain point they even change of themselves if repeatedly called into consciousness by dissimilar occasions, e.g., by the frequent delivery of the same lecture before different audiences.

The general notions of things are complexes or complications of their attributes. Other examples of complexes important to instruction are furnished by logical concepts and words. But since words of several languages may be perfectly complicated or bound together with the same concept, without being just as intimately connected with one another, it should be noted that when the object or concept comes up at different times, it will be joined now with this and next with another language. Yet the repeated perception of the object is not quite the same perception as before, although earlier ideas mostly coalesce so fully with later homogeneous ideas that the difference makes itself felt but little.

[31.] The inner structure of groups of ideas becomes discernible in a measure when thoughts are bodied forth in speech. Its most general aspect is disclosed in the construction of a period. Conjunctions particularly are important in that they, without denoting a content of their own, serve as hints to the listener. They point out to him the connection, the antitheses, the positiveness, or the uncertainty of the speaker’s utterances; for the meanings of conjunctions can be traced back to the series-form, to negation and certitude. It should be noted that want and refusal are related to negation; expectation, together with hope and fear, to uncertainty, so that the consideration of thought masses must also include emotional states. Children possess the structure of thought just as they experience the emotional states, long before they know how to embody the same in words with the help of conjunctions. Certain conjunctions, such as, to be sure, although, on the contrary, either—or, neither—nor, etc., are not adopted by children until late.

[32.] Of equal importance with the inner organization of the pupil’s ideas are, for the teacher, the degree of ease or difficulty with which a given mass of ideas is called into consciousness, and its relatively long or brief persistence in consciousness. Here we are face to face with the conditions of efficient instruction and training. The most necessary statements relative to this subject will be made under the head of interest and character-building.

[33.] The capacity for education, therefore, is determined not by the relationship in which various originally distinct mental faculties stand to one another, but by the relations of ideas already acquired to one another, and to the physical organism. Every pupil must be studied with reference to both.

Note.—In the minds of those whose early training has been in the hands of several persons, whose early life has, perhaps, even been spent in different households or has been tossed about by changes of fortune, there are usually formed thought masses that are heterogeneous and poorly correlated. Nor is it easy to win the single-hearted devotion of such boys. They cherish secret wishes, they feel contrasts, the nature of which it is difficult to get at, and soon strike out in directions which education can frequently not encourage. Far more susceptible of educative influences are pupils that have been, for a long time, under the guidance of only one person,—of the mother especially,—who has had their full confidence. It now remains to base their further training on what already exists and to refrain from demanding sudden leaps.

[34.] Now, in order to gain an adequate knowledge of each pupil’s capacity for education, observation is necessary—observation both of his thought masses and of his physical nature. The study of the latter includes that of temperament, especially with reference to emotional susceptibility. With some, fear is the first natural impulse, with others, anger; some laugh and cry easily, others do not. In some cases a very slight stimulus suffices to excite the vascular system. We need to note furthermore:—

• (1) The games of pupils. Do they in a thoroughly childlike manner still play with any object that comes to hand? Do they intentionally change their games to suit a varying preference? Can distinct objects of persistent desire be discovered?
• (2) Their mental capacity and processes as shown in their studies. Is the pupil able to grasp long or only short series? Does he make many or few slips in the recitation? Do his lessons find a spontaneous echo in his play?
• (3) Their depth and consistency. Are their utterances superficial, or do they come from the depths of the soul? A comparative study of words and actions will gradually answer this question.

Such observations will take account also of the rhythm of the pupil’s mental life as well as of the character of his store of thoughts. The insight thus obtained determines the matter and method of instruction.

The reader will not fail to notice that much of modern child study is anticipated in the foregoing paragraphs. Further important contributions to the same subject are made in paragraphs [294]–[329].

[35.] Instruction in the sense of mere information-giving contains no guarantee whatever that it will materially counteract faults and influence existing groups of ideas that are independent of the imparted information. But it is these ideas that education must reach; for the kind and extent of assistance that instruction may render to conduct depend upon the hold it has upon them.

Facts, at least, must serve as material for methodical treatment, otherwise they do not enlarge even the scope of mental activity. They rise in value when they become instinct with life and acquire mobility so as to enrich the imagination. But their ethical effect always remains questionable so long as they do not help to correct or modify the ethical judgment, or desire and action, or both.

This point calls for a few additional distinctions. Generally speaking, rudeness decreases in proportion to the expansion of the mental horizon by instruction. The mere diffusion of desires over the enlarged thought area causes them to lose something of their one-sided energy. Moreover, if instruction presents ethical subjects of some kind in a comprehensible way, the pupil’s disposition undergoes a refining process so that it at least approximates a correct estimate of the will, that is, the creation of ethical ideas.

Such favorable results are, however, apt to be outweighed by the harm done when mere knowledge becomes the chief aim of ambition.

[36.] In order that instruction may act on the pupil’s ideas and disposition, every avenue of approach should be thrown open. The mere fact that we can never know with certainty, beforehand, what will influence the pupil most, warns us against [one-sidedness] of instruction.

Ideas spring from two main sources,—experience and social intercourse. Knowledge of nature—incomplete and crude—is derived from the former; the later furnishes the sentiments entertained toward our fellow-men, which, far from being praiseworthy, are on the contrary often very reprehensible. To improve these is the more urgent task; but neither ought we to neglect the knowledge of nature. If we do, we may expect error, fantastical notions, and eccentricities of every description.

[37.] Hence, we have two main branches of instruction,—the historical and the scientific. The former embraces not only history proper, but language study as well; the latter includes, besides natural science, mathematics.

“Historical” must be interpreted to include all human sciences, such as history, literature, languages, æsthetics, and political, economic, and social science. “Scientific” may include applied as well as pure science, and then we add all forms of industrial training to the curriculum. Other divisions of the subject-matter of instruction are often helpful. Thus one may speak of the human sciences, the natural sciences, and the economic sciences. The economic sciences include those activities where man and nature interact. Dr. Wm. T. Harris speaks of five coördinate groups of subjects, corresponding to what he calls the “five windows of the soul.”

[38.] Other reasons aside, the need alone of [counteracting] selfishness renders it necessary for every school that undertakes the education of the whole man to place human conditions and relations in the foreground of instruction. This humanistic aim should underlie the studies of the historical subjects, and only with reference to this aim may they be allowed to preponderate.

An interesting attempt to realize the aim here demanded is found in Professor John Dewey’s “School and Society,”[1] which is in effect a description of what he is working out in his practice or experimental school in connection with his department in the University of Chicago.

“If the aim of historical instruction is to enable the child to appreciate the values of social life, to see in imagination the forces which favor and let men’s effective coöperations with one another, to understand the sorts of character that help on and that hold back, the essential thing in its presentation is to make it moving, dynamic. History must be presented not as an accumulation of results or effects, a mere statement of what has happened, but as a forceful, acting thing. The motives, that is, the motors, must stand out. To study history is not to amass information, but to use information in constructing a vivid picture of how and why men did thus and so: achieved their successes and came to their failures.”[2]

Note.—This view does not shut out the other held in regard to Gymnasia, namely, that their business is to preserve and perpetuate a knowledge of classical antiquity; the latter aim must be made congruent with the former.

[1] Dewey, “The School and Society,” University of Chicago Press, 1899.

[2] Dewey, “The Aim of History in Elementary Education,” Elementary School Record, No. 8, University of Chicago Press, 1900.

[39.] Mathematical studies, from elementary arithmetic to higher mathematics, are to be linked to the pupil’s knowledge of nature, and so to his experience, in order to gain admission into his sphere of thought. Instruction in mathematics, however thorough, fails pedagogically when the ideas generated form an isolated group. They are usually soon forgotten, or, if retained, contribute but little toward personal worth.

It may be added that the leading practical motive in the teaching of arithmetic has been economic, the cost of things forming the chief reliance for problems. Only those parts of nature study that involve important quantitative relations are fitted for correlation with mathematics. Biology, for instance, which is qualitative, since it deals with life, is a poor support for mathematics; but physics is a good one.

[40.] In general, it will always remain a matter of uncertainty whether and how instruction will be received and mentally elaborated. To diminish this uncertainty, if for no other reasons, there is need of constant endeavor to put the pupil in a frame of mind suitable for instruction. This task falls within the province of training.

[41.] But even apart from reference to instruction, training must seek to ward off violent desires and to prevent the injurious outbursts of emotion. We may grant that after the days of school life are over, individual traits will always break forth again in this respect; but experiences, too, follow, and in connection with these the after-effect of education comes to light in proportion as education has been more or less successful. It shows itself in the nature and the amount of self-knowledge through which the adult strives to restrain his native faults. Seeming exceptions are in most cases accounted for by impressions produced in very early youth and long concealed.

As soon as a person attains freedom of action, he usually endeavors to achieve the life which in his earlier years seemed most desirable. Hence training and instruction have each to be directed against the springing up of illusive longings and toward a true picture of the blessings and burdens of various social classes and professions.

What modifications of individuality training may accomplish, is brought about less by restrictions, which cannot be permanent, than by inducing an early development of the higher impulses whereby they attain predominance.

[42.] The larger portion of the restrictions necessary during the period of education falls under another head, that of government. The question of completeness of education aside, children no less than adults need to experience the constraint imposed on every one by human society: they, too, must be kept within bounds. This function the state delegates to the family, to guardians, and to the schools. Now the purpose of government refers to present order; that of training to the future character of the adult. The underlying points of view are accordingly so different that a distinction must necessarily be made in a system of pedagogics between training and government.

[43.] In matters of government, too, much depends on how keenly its disciplinary measures are felt. Only good training can insure the right kind of sensibility. A gentle rebuke may prove more effective than blows. The first thing to do, of course, when unruly children create disorder, is to govern, to restore order; but government and training should, if possible, go together. The distinction between these two concepts serves to aid the reflection of the teacher, who ought to know what he is about, rather than to suggest a perceptible separation in practice.

[44.] In the following pages, general pedagogics, which is followed necessarily by observations of a more special nature, will be discussed under the three main heads,—government, instruction, training. What needs to be said concerning government as the primary condition of education will be disposed of first. Next comes the theory of instruction and didactics. The last place is reserved for training; for an enduring effect could not be expected from it, if it were severed from instruction. For this reason the teacher must always keep the latter in view when he fixes his attention on methods of training, which in actual practice always work hand in hand with instruction. The other customary form of treatment, that according to age, while not adapted to the exposition of principles, finds its proper place in the chapter leading over to the discussion of special topics.

[ PART II
OUTLINES OF GENERAL PEDAGOGICS]

SECTION I
GOVERNMENT OF CHILDREN

CHAPTER I
Theoretical Aspects

[45.] We assume at the outset the existence of all the care and nurture requisite for physical growth and well-being; a bringing up that shall be as free from pampering as from dangerous hardening. There must be no actual want to lead a child astray, nor undue indulgence to create unnecessary demands. How much hardening it is safe to risk will depend in each case on the child’s constitution.

[46.] The foundation of government consists in keeping children employed. No account is taken as yet of the prospective gain to mental culture; the time is to be fully occupied, at all events, even if the immediate purpose be merely the avoidance of disorder. This purpose, however, involves the requirement of ample provision, according to the ages of pupils, for the need of physical activity, that the cause of natural restlessness may be removed. This need is more urgent with some than with others; there are children that seem ungovernable because compelled to sit still.

[47.] Other things being equal, self-chosen occupations deserve the preference; but it rarely happens that children know how to keep themselves busy sufficiently and continuously. Specific tasks, not to be abandoned until completed, assure order much better than random playing, which is apt to end in ennui. It is desirable that adults possessing the requisite patience assist children, if not always, at least frequently, in their games; that they explain pictures, tell stories, have them retold, etc. With advancing maturity, a steadily increasing proportion of the occupations assumes the character of instruction or of exercises growing out of it; this work should be properly balanced by recreations.

[48.] Next in order comes supervision, and with it numerous commands and prohibitions. Under this head several things must be considered.

In the first place this: Whether under certain circumstances one might withdraw a command or permit what has once been forbidden. It is ill-advised to give an order more sweeping than the execution is meant to be; and it weakens government to yield to the entreaties, the tears, or, worse still, the impetuous insistence of children.

Also this question: Whether it is possible to make sure of obedience. Where children are not kept busy and are left without oversight, the issue becomes doubtful.

The difficulty grows at a rapid rate with an increase in numbers. This is true especially of larger educational institutions, but, on account of the coming and going of pupils, applies in a measure also to common day schools.

[49.] The usual solution is greater strictness of supervision. But this involves the risk of utter failure to receive voluntary obedience, and of inciting a match game in shrewdness.

As to voluntary obedience, much depends on the ratio of restraint to the freedom that still remains. Ordinarily, youth submits readily enough to many restrictions, provided such restrictions bear upon specific fixed points, and leave elbow room for independent action.

In the work of supervision the teacher will find it hard to rely on himself entirely, particularly if he has charge of classes only at stated times. Others must assist him; he himself will have to resort occasionally to surprises. Supervision is always an evil when coupled with unnecessary distrust. It is essential, therefore, to make those who do not merit distrust understand that the measures adopted are not directed against them.

[ CHAPTER II
Practical Aspects]

[50.] Since supervision is not to be vigorous to the point of ever felt pressure, child government, to be effective, requires both gentle and severe measures. In general, this effectiveness results from the natural superiority of the adult, a fact of which teachers sometimes need to be reminded. Whatever the plan of supervision, there must be coupled with it an adequate mode of disciplinary procedure. A record should be kept in schools, not for the law-abiding pupils, but for those guilty of repeated acts of disobedience. These remarks do not thus far include any reference to marks and records pertaining to education proper; they are confined to what is popularly, but loosely, called discipline, that is, the training of pupils to conform to the system of order that obtains in the school.

Home training seldom requires such bookkeeping; but even here it may at times be useful. Of course, the individual child knows in any case that some one is keeping an eye on his actions, but the fact becomes more deeply impressed upon his memory if the reproofs incurred by him are recorded.

[51.] It would be in vain to attempt to banish entirely the corporal punishments usually administered after fruitless reprimands; but use should be made of them so sparingly that they be feared rather than actually inflicted.

Recollection of the rod does not hurt a boy. Nor is there any harm in his present conviction that a flogging is henceforth as much beyond the range of possibility as his meriting such treatment. But it would, no doubt, be injurious to actually violate his self-respect by a blow, however little he might mind the physical pain. And pernicious in the highest degree, although, nevertheless, not quite obsolete yet, is the practice of continuing to beat children already hardened to blows. Brutish insensibility is the consequence, and the hope is almost vain that even a long period of now unavoidable indulgence will restore a normal state of feeling.

There is less objection to making use, for a few hours, of hunger as a corrective. Here only an act of deprivation takes place, not one involving a direct insult.

Curtailment of freedom is the most commonly employed form of punishment; justly so, provided it be properly adjusted to the offence. Moreover, it admits of the most varied gradations from standing in a corner to confinement in a dark room, perhaps even with hands tied together behind the back. Only, for several serious reasons, this punishment must not be of long duration. A whole hour is more than enough unless there is careful supervision. Besides, the place must be chosen judiciously.

Solitary confinement, especially in a dark room, is seldom if ever resorted to in American public schools. For remarks upon the social basis of modern school punishments, see [55].

[52.] Corrections of such severity, as removal from home or expulsion from an institution, are to be administered only in extreme cases; for what is to become of the expelled pupil? A burden to another school? And in case the transfer implies the same freedom, the old disorderly conduct will usually be resumed. Such pupils must, therefore, be placed under very strict supervision and given new occupations. We must trust to the new environment to obliterate gradually the old vitiated circle of thought.

[53.] It is a well-known fact that authority and love are surer means of securing order than harsh measures are. But authority cannot be created by every one at will. It implies obvious superiority in mind, in knowledge, in physique, in external circumstances. Love can, indeed, be gained in the course of time by a complaisant manner—the love of well-disposed pupils; but just where government becomes most necessary, complaisance has to cease. Love must not be purchased at the expense of weak indulgence; it is of value only when united with the necessary severity.

[54.] In early childhood and with healthy children, government is, on the whole, easy. It continues to be easy after they have once formed habits of obedience. But it should not be interrupted. Even if children have been left to themselves or in charge of strangers only a few days, the change is noticeable. It requires an effort to tighten the reins again—something not to be done too suddenly.

Where boys have been allowed to run wild, the attempt to bring them back to orderly conduct reveals the differences of individuality. Some are easily made to return to appropriate work by kindness combined with a moderate measure of forbearance, others have sense enough to fear threats and to avoid penalties; but we may unfortunately also expect to find a few whose sole thought is to escape from supervision, however unpleasant for them the consequences may be.

Where home ties are wanting, this spirit may develop even during boyhood with ominous rapidity; during adolescence the difficulty of checking it may grow to be insuperable.

[55.] As a rule, it is reasonable to assume that youth will try to break through restraints as soon as these are felt. A sufficient amount of satisfying activity, together with uniform firmness of the lines of restraint, will, indeed, soon put an end to persistent attempts of this kind; yet they will be repeated from time to time. As boys grow older there is a change of pursuits; now the restraining boundaries must gradually be enlarged. The question now is whether education has progressed sufficiently far to make government less indispensable. Moreover, the choice of work comes to be determined by the prospects opening before the young man, according to his rank and means, together with his native capabilities and acquired knowledge. To encourage such pursuits as being appropriate for him, and, on the other hand, to reduce mere hobbies and diversions to harmless proportions, still remains the function of government. In any case government should not be wholly surrendered too early, least of all when the environment is such as to justify apprehension of temptation.

Though American teachers are perhaps not accustomed to emphasize the distinction between government for order and training for character, the difference, nevertheless, exists, often in an exaggerated form. Just as fever is looked upon as the measure of functional disturbance in the body, so disorder in the schoolroom is looked upon as the measure of the teacher’s failure. As fever is the universal symptom of disease, so disorder is the index of failure. The diagnosis may err in either case as to what the seat of the difficulty really is, but that something is wrong is plain to all. The fact that the public usually gauge a teacher’s efficiency by the order he keeps has led in the past to an exaggerated emphasis upon school discipline. The means for securing good order have greatly changed since Herbart’s time. A growing sense of social solidarity in the community, together with the all but universal employment of women as teachers in the elementary grades, has transferred the basis of discipline from the teacher to the community. It is social pressure in and out of the school that is the main reliance for regularity, punctuality, and order. Herbart wonders what will become of the bad boy if he is expelled. The modern answer is, he will be sent to the reform school or to the truant school. The teacher still stands as of old at the point of contact between the institution and the individual; nor can he entirely escape the heat generated at times by such contact, but, after all, it is society that now supplies the pressure formerly exerted by will and birch. The teacher is now more of a mediator between the pupil and the organized community, than an avenger of broken law.

[ SECTION II
INSTRUCTION]

CHAPTER I
The Relation of Instruction to Government and Training

[56.] Instruction furnishes a part of those occupations which lie at the basis of government; how large a part depends on circumstances.

Children must be kept employed at all events, because idleness leads to misbehavior and lawlessness. Now if the employment consists of useful labor, say in the workshop or on the farm, so much the better. Better still, if the work teaches the child something that will contribute to his further education. But not all employment is instruction; and in cases where the mere government of children is a difficult matter, lessons are not always the most adequate employment. Many a growing boy will be taught orderly conduct much sooner when placed with a mechanic or merchant or farmer than in school. The scope of government is wider than that of instruction.

Teachers of manual training everywhere testify to the quieting effect of directed physical labor upon stormy spirits. Even a truant school or a school for incorrigibles becomes an attractive place to the inmates when adequate provision is made for the exercise of the motor powers. Most children can be controlled through mental occupation, but there are some to whom motor activity is indispensable. That a judicious apportionment of sensory and motor activity would favorably affect the development of all children is not to be questioned.

[57.] Instruction and training have this in common, that each makes for education and hence for the future, while government provides for the present. A distinction should, however, be made here. Instruction is far from being always educative or pedagogical. Where acquisition of wealth and external success or strong personal preference supply the motives for study, no heed is paid to the question: What will be the gain or loss to character? One actuated by such motives sets out, such as he is, to learn one thing or another, no matter whether for good or bad or for indifferent ends; to him the best teacher is he who imparts tuto, cito, jucunde, the proficiency desired. Instruction of this kind is excluded from our discussion; we are concerned here only with instruction that educates in the moral sense of the term.

[58.] Man’s worth does not, it is true, lie in his knowing, but in his willing. But there is no such thing as an independent faculty of will. Volition has its roots in thought; not, indeed, in the details one knows, but certainly in the combinations and total effect of the acquired ideas. The same reason, therefore, which in psychology accounts for considering the formation of ideas first, and then desire and volition, necessitates a corresponding order in pedagogics: first the theory of instruction, then that of training.

Note.—Formerly, strange to say, no distinction was made between government and training, although it is obvious that the immediate present demands attention more urgently than does the future. Still less was instruction given its true place. The greater or smaller amount of knowledge, regarded as a matter of secondary importance in comparison with personal culture, was taken up last. The treatment of education as the development of character preceded that of instruction, just as though the former could be realized without the latter. During the last decades, however, a demand has arisen for greater activity on the part of schools, primarily the higher schools. Humanistic studies are to bestow humanity, or culture. It has come to be understood that the human being is more easily approached from the side of knowledge than from the side of moral sentiments and disposition. Furthermore, examinations might be set on the former, but not on the latter. Now the time for instruction was found to be too limited—a want that the old Latin schools had felt but little. This led to discussions as to the relative amount due each branch of study. We shall treat chiefly of the correlation of studies, for whatever remains isolated is of little significance.

[59.] In educative teaching, the mental activity incited by it is all important. This activity instruction is to increase, not to lessen; to ennoble, not to debase.

Note.—A diminution of mental activity ensues, when, because of much study and of sitting—especially at all sorts of written work, often useless—physical growth is interfered with in a way sooner or later to the injury of health. Hence the encouragement given in recent years to gymnastic exercises, which may, however, become too violent. Deterioration sets in when knowledge is made subservient to ostentation and external advantages—the objectionable feature of many public examinations. Schools ought not to be called upon to display all they accomplish. By such methods instruction not only works against its own true end, but also conflicts with training, whose aim for the whole future of the pupil is—mens sana in corpore sano.

[60.] If all mental activity were of only one kind, the subject-matter of instruction would be of no consequence. But we need not go beyond experience to see that the opposite is true, that there is a great diversity of intellectual endowment. Yet while instruction must thus be differentiated, it should not be made so special as to cultivate only the more prominent gifts; otherwise the pupil’s less vigorous mental functions would be wholly neglected and perhaps suppressed. Instruction must rather be manifold, and its manifoldness being the same for many pupils in so far as it may help to correct inequalities in mental tendencies.

Not only is subject-matter to be varied on account of mental diversity, but also for social reasons as well. For an enlargement of this theme, see the annotation to paragraph [65].

[61.] What is to be taught and learned is, accordingly, not left for caprice and conventionality to decide. In this respect instruction differs in a striking manner from government, for which, if only idleness is prevented, it hardly matters what work children are given to do.

Note.—Children are sent to school from many homes simply because they are in the way and their parents do not wish them to be idle. The school is regarded as an institution whose chief function is to govern, but which incidentally also imparts useful knowledge. Here there is a lack of insight into the nature of true mental culture; teachers, on the contrary, sometimes forget that they are giving pupils work, and that work should not exceed reasonable limits.

[ CHAPTER II
The Aim of Instruction]

[62.] The ultimate purpose of instruction is contained in the notion, virtue. But in order to realize the final aim, another and nearer one must be set up. We may term it, many-sidedness of interest. The word interest stands in general for that kind of mental activity which it is the business of instruction to incite. Mere information does not suffice; for this we think of as a supply or store of facts, which a person might possess or lack, and still remain the same being. But he who lays hold of his information and reaches out for more, takes an interest in it. Since, however, this mental activity, is varied ([60]), we need to add the further determination supplied by the term many-sidedness.

It has been pointed out[3] what the content of the word virtue must be, if this word is to be an adequate expression for the ultimate purpose of instruction. Virtue must embrace not only what is purely individual, or subjective, such as piety and humaneness of disposition, but it must likewise include what is objective, or social, in conduct. This fact lends a new significance to the doctrine of interest, for though a normal child is not naturally interested in introspective analysis of his feelings, he is spontaneously interested in what is objective and within the range of his experience. The enterprises of his mates, the regulations of his school or home, the erection of houses, the introduction of new machinery, the social doings of the neighborhood, the havoc created by the elements, the prominent features of the changing year—all these claim his closest attention. The common school studies deal with these very things. Literature (reading) and history reveal to him the conduct of men; the one considering it ideally, the other historically. Mathematics teaches the mastery of material when considered quantitatively, whether in trade or manufacture or construction. Nature studies bring the child into intimate touch with the significant in his natural environment. Geography shows him the most obvious features of the industrial activity about him. It shows him the chief conditions of production in crops and manufactures; it also gives him hints of the great business of commerce. In all these studies, the natural inclinations of the mind are directly appealed to. Not a little of the importance of the doctrine of interest in instruction depends upon these facts; for both the insight and the disposition that instruction is capable of imparting to the pupil relates specifically to the objective side of his character, the one most in need of development and most susceptible of it.

[3] Paragraphs [8]–[15].

[63.] We may speak also of indirect as distinguished from direct interest. But a predominance of indirect interest tends to one-sidedness, if not to selfishness. The interest of the selfish man in anything extends only so far as he can see advantages or disadvantages to himself. In this respect the one-sided man approximates the selfish man, although the fact may escape his own observation; since he relates everything to the narrow sphere for which he lives and thinks. Here lies his intellectual power, and whatever does not interest him as means to his limited ends, becomes an impediment.

It is important for the teacher to see the full scope of the doctrine of interest in its relation to effort. In Herbart’s psychology it assumes a most important place, since the primacy of mental life is, in this system, ascribed to ideas. In other systems, notably those of Kant, Schopenhauer, Von Hartmann, Paulsen, primacy is ascribed to the will, first in unconscious or subconscious striving, later in conscious volition. This fundamental difference in standpoint will account for the emphasis laid now upon interest, now upon effort. Herbart conceives that conscious feelings, desires, motives, and the like have their source in ideas, and that volition in turn arises from the various emotional states aroused by the ideas. Interest with him thus becomes a permanent or ever renewed, ever changing, ever growing desire for the accomplishment of certain ends. It is, consequently, a direct, necessary stimulus to the will. Systems, however, that regard the will as the primary factor in mental life, conceiving of ideas only as a means for revealing more clearly the ends of volition, together with the best methods of reaching them, are naturally prone to place the emphasis upon effort, leaving to interest but a secondary or quite incidental function. Dr. John Dewey has attempted to reconcile these two views.[4] Interest and effort are complementary, not opposing ideas. To emphasize one at the expense of the other, is to assume that the ends for which we act lie quite outside of our personality, so that these ends would, on the one hand, have to be made interesting, or, on the other, struggled for without regard to interest. This assumption is an error. The ends for which we strive must be conceived as internal, our efforts being regarded as attempts at self-realization in definite directions. The purpose of our action is therefore an end desired. In this we have an interest surely. As an educational doctrine, however, interest concerns chiefly the means of reaching these ends. If interest in the means is wanting, the child works with a divided attention. He gives only so much to the means as he must; the remainder is devoted to his own affairs,—the past or coming ball-game, the picnic, the walk in the woods, the private enterprises of home or school. But if a lively interest is felt in the means to the end, then the whole self is actively employed for the time being in the accomplishment of the purpose of the hour. The attention is no longer divided, it is concentrated upon the matter in hand. This in the school is work. When the attention is divided we have drudgery. This signifies that the interest felt in the end, say a dollar, is not felt in the means of attaining it, say a day’s labor. However inevitable drudgery may be in life, it should have no place in the schoolroom. The teacher must so present the studies that the pupil can perceive at least a fraction of their bearing upon life. This awakens an interest in them as ends. He must, then, by conformity to the psychological order of learning, by enthusiasm and ingenuity, so teach the subjects that the natural interest in the end will be constantly enhanced through a lively interest in the daily lesson as the means of reaching it. The result is unified attention, zeal in the pursuit of knowledge, hospitality for ethical ideals.

[4] “Interest as Related to the Will,” second supplement to the Herbart Year Book, revised and reprinted, Chicago University Press, 1899.

[64.] As regards the bearings of interest on virtue, we need to remember that many-sidedness of interest alone, even of direct interest such as instruction is to engender, is yet far from being identical with virtue itself; also that, conversely, the weaker the original mental activity, the less likelihood that virtue will be realized at all, not to speak of the variety of manifestation possible in action. Imbeciles cannot be virtuous. Virtue involves an awakening of mind.

The conception, that by awakening many-sided direct interest in the studies we can powerfully affect character, is perhaps peculiar to the thought of Herbart. Yet when we consider that the knowledge taught in the school goes to the root of every vital human relation, that, in other words, the studies may be made instruments for progressively revealing to the child his place and function in the world, it follows as a necessary consequence, that to interest the pupil thoroughly in these branches of learning, is to work at the foundation of his character, so far, at least, as insight into duty and disposition to do it are concerned. Even if interest in ethical things is not of itself virtue, it is an important means for securing virtue. This idea adds to the teacher’s resources for the development of character. It also opens up to him a new realm for research. All literature, history, science, mathematics, geography, language, may be examined from this new standpoint, both with respect to selection and to methods of presentation. Select the portions that pertain intimately to life; teach them so that their important bearing upon it may be seen.

Note.—As has been stated already ([17]), the most immediate of the practical ideas demanding recognition from the teacher is the idea of perfection. Now, with reference to this idea, three factors are to be considered: the intensity, the range, the unification of intellectual effort. Intensity is implied in the word interest; extension is connoted by many-sidedness; what is meant by unification will be briefly indicated in the next paragraph.

[65.] Scattering no less than one-sidedness forms an antithesis to many-sidedness. Many-sidedness is to be the basis of virtue; but the latter is an attribute of personality, hence it is evident that the unity of self-consciousness must not be impaired. The business of instruction is to form the person on many sides, and accordingly to avoid a distracting or dissipating effect. And instruction has successfully avoided this in the case of one who with ease surveys his well-arranged knowledge in all of its unifying relations and holds it together as his very own.

This section points to the correlation of studies, a subject to be considered hereafter in detail. It also throws light upon the modern system of elective courses or elective studies in secondary and higher education. The teachable subjects have now become so numerous that election is imperative unless what is to be taught is determined arbitrarily without regard to the needs or inclinations of students. Furthermore, election is made imperative by the fact that the higher education is now open to all minds of all social classes, and that differentiated industry calls for many kinds of education. But the need for mental symmetry, no less imperative now than in the past, is reinforced by the need for social symmetry. Education must put the student into sympathetic touch with the whole of life, not a mere segment of it. Since many-sidedness cannot be interpreted to mean knowledge of all subjects, this being impossible, it must be interpreted to mean knowledge of all departments of learning. Election may be permitted to emphasize departments of study, but not to ignore them entirely. There are four or more languages worth teaching, many departments of history, numerous sciences, and various branches of mathematics, not to speak of the economic, political, and social sciences. Enough of each department being given to insure intelligent sympathy with the aspect of civilization it presents, the student may be allowed to place the emphasis upon such groups of studies as best conserve his tastes, his ability, and his destination in life.

[ CHAPTER III
The Conditions of Many-sidedness]

[66.] It becomes obvious at once that a many-sided culture cannot be brought about quickly. The requisite store of ideas is acquired only by successive efforts; but unification, a view of the whole, and assimilation are to be attained besides ([65]), whence an alternation, in time, of absorption and reflection. The apprehension of the manifold is of necessity a gradual process, and the same is true of the unification of knowledge.

In absorption the mind surrenders itself to the acquisition or contemplation of facts. Thus a child will stand in open-eyed wonder at beholding a novel spectacle, the scientist becomes absorbed in watching the outcome of a new experiment, the philosopher loses consciousness to all about him in the unfolding of some new train of thought. Not only may absorption concern momentary experiences, but it may in a broad way be said to cover considerable periods of life, as, for instance, when a student becomes absorbed in the mastery of foreign languages having no immediate relation to his daily life. Reflection is the assimilation of the knowledge gained by absorption. The mind, recovering from its absorption in what is external, relates its new-found experience to the sum of its former experiences. New items of knowledge in this way find their appropriate places in the organic structure of the mind. They are apperceived. The many-sided thus comes to unity.

Rosenkranz calls absorption and reflection, self-estrangement and its removal. “All culture,” he says, “whatever may be its special purport, must pass through these two stages,—of estrangement, and its removal.” Again, he says, “The mind is (1) immediate (or potential); but (2) it must estrange itself from itself, as it were, so that it may place itself over against itself as a special object of attention; (3) this estrangement is finally removed through a further acquaintance with the object ... it feels itself at home in that on which it looks, and returns again enriched to the form of immediateness (to unity with itself). That which at first appeared to be another than itself is now seen to be itself.”[5] This is an abstract statement of the fact that (1) in learning the mind becomes absorbed for a time in external objects, ignoring temporarily their inner meaning and relation to self, and (2) this period of absorption is succeeded by one of reflection, in which the mind perceives the significance of what has been observed, noting the laws and principles underlying the phenomena and thus assimilating them to what it conceives to be rational.

Owing to the fact that absorption and reflection may refer to very short and also to comparatively long periods, they may be studied with respect to their bearing in conducting recitations, and to their importance in fixing courses of study. The former aspect of the two processes will in this connection chiefly occupy our attention.

[5] “Philosophy of Education,” pp. 27, 28, New York, D. Appleton & Co.

[67.] Some teachers lay great stress on the explication, step by step, of the smaller and smallest components of the subject, and insist on a similar reproduction on the part of the pupils. Others prefer to teach by conversation, and allow themselves and their pupils great freedom of expression. Others, again, call especially for the leading thoughts, but demand that these be given with accuracy and precision, and in the prescribed order. Others, finally, are not satisfied until their pupils are self-actively exercising their minds in systematic thinking.

Various methods of teaching may thus arise; it is not necessary, however, that one should be habitually employed to the exclusion of the rest. We may ask rather whether each does not contribute its share to a many-sided culture. In order that a multitude of facts may be apprehended, explications or analyses are needed to prevent confusion; but since a synthesis is equally essential, the latter process may be started by conversation, continued by lifting into prominence the cardinal thoughts, and completed by the methodical independent thinking of the pupil: clearness, association, system, method.

In teaching we need to have (1) clearness in the presentation of specific facts, or the elements of what is to be mastered; (2) association of these facts with one another, and with other related facts formerly acquired, in order that assimilation, or apperception, may be adequately complete; (3) when sufficient facts have been clearly presented and sufficiently assimilated, they must be systematically ordered, so that our knowledge will be more perfectly unified than it could be did we stop short of thorough classification, as in the study of botany, or of the perception of rules and principles, as in mathematics and grammar; (4) finally the facts, rules, principles, and classifications thus far assumed must be secured for all time by their efficient methodical application in exercises that call forth the vigorous self-activity of the pupil. These four stages of teaching may be considered fundamental, though varying greatly according to the nature of the subject and the ability of the pupil. It is good exercise for a pupil to take long, rapid steps when able to do so; it is hopeless confusion to undertake them when they are too great or too rapid for his capacity. These four stages in methods of teaching conceived to be essential, form the nucleus of an interesting development in the Herbartian school, under the title of “The Formal [i.e. Essential] Steps of Instruction.” The leading ideas will be further described in a subsequent paragraph ([70]).

[68.] On closer inspection we find that instead of being mutually exclusive, these various modes of instruction are requisite, one by one, in the order given above, for every group, small or large, of subjects to be taught.

For, first, the beginner is able to advance but slowly. For him the shortest steps are the safest steps. He must stop at each point as long as is necessary to make him apprehend distinctly each individual fact. To this he must give his whole thought. During the initial stage, the teacher’s art consists, therefore, preëminently in knowing how to resolve his subject into very small parts. In this way he will avoid taking sudden leaps without being aware that he is doing so.

Secondly, association cannot be effected solely by a systematic mode of treatment, least of all at first. In the system each part has its own fixed place. At this place it is connected directly with the nearest other parts, but also separated from other more remote parts by a definite distance, and connected with these only by way of determinate intervening members, or links. Besides, the nature of this connection is not the same everywhere. Furthermore, a system is not to be learned merely. It is to be used, applied, and often needs to be supplemented by additions inserted in appropriate places. To be able to do this requires skill in diverting one’s thoughts from any given starting-point to every other point, forward, backward, sideways. Hence two things are requisite; preparation for the system, and application of the system. Preparation is involved in association; exercise in systematic thinking must follow.

[69.] During the first stage, when the clear apprehension of the individual object or fact is the main thing, the shortest and most familiar words and sentences are the most appropriate. The teacher will often find it advisable also to have some, if not all, of the pupils repeat them accurately after him. As is well known, even speaking in concert has been tried in many schools not entirely without success, and for young beginners this method may indeed at times answer very well.

For association, the best mode of procedure is informal conversation, because it gives the pupil an opportunity to test and to change the accidental union of his thoughts, to multiply the links of connection, and to assimilate, after his own fashion, what he has learned. It enables him, besides, to do at least a part of all this in any way that happens to be the easiest and most convenient. He will thus escape the inflexibility of thought that results from a purely systematic learning.

System, on the other hand, calls for a more connected discourse, and the period of presentation must be separated more sharply from the period of repetition. By exhibiting and emphasizing the leading principles, system impresses upon the minds of pupils the value of organized knowledge; through its greater completeness it enriches their store of information. But pupils are incapable of appreciating either advantage when the systematic presentation is introduced too early.

Skill in systematic thinking the pupil will obtain through the solution of assigned tasks, his own independent attempts, and their correction. For such work will show whether he has fully grasped the general principles, and whether he is able to recognize them in and apply them to particulars.

[70.] These remarks on the initial analysis and the subsequent gradual uniting of the matter taught, hold true, in general and in detail, of the most diverse objects and branches of instruction. Much remains to be added, however, to define with precision the application of these principles to a given subject and to the age of the pupil. It will suffice, for the present, if we remind ourselves that instruction provides a portion of the occupations necessary to government ([56]). Now, instruction produces fatigue in proportion to its duration; more or less, of course, according to individual differences. But the more fatiguing it is, the less it accomplishes as employment. This fact alone shows clearly the necessity of intermissions and change of work. If the pupil has become actually tired, that is, has not lost merely inclination to work, this feeling must be allowed, as far as is practicable, to pass away, at any rate to diminish, before the same subject is resumed in a somewhat modified form. In order to have time enough for this, the systematic presentation must in many cases be postponed until long after the first lessons in the elements have begun, and conversely, the rudiments of a subject frequently have to be at least touched upon long before connected instruction can be thought of. Many a principle needs to be approached from a great distance.

Herbart found his basis for the four steps of method, viz. clearness, association, system, method, in the ideas of absorption and reflection, the alternate pulsation of consciousness in absorbing and assimilating knowledge. Others, adopting this classification as essentially correct, have related these steps to customary psychological analysis. Thus Dörpfeld and Wiget point out that the mind goes through three well-marked processes when it performs the complete act of learning, namely, perception of new facts; thought, or the bringing of ideas into logical relations; and application, or the exercise of the motor activities of the mind in putting knowledge into use. Perception gives the percept, thought gives the conception (or rule, principle, generalization), and application gives power. In other words, the receptive and reflective capacities of the mind come to their full fruition when they result in adequate motor activities. With respect to perception a good method will first prepare the mind for facts and will then present them so that they may be apperceived. The first two steps are therefore preparation and presentation. The first step, as Ziller pointed out, is essentially analytic in character, since it analyzes the present store of consciousness in order to bring facts to the front that are closely related to those of the present lesson; the second step, i.e., presentation, is essentially synthetic, since its function is to add the matter of the new lesson to related knowledge already in possession. Both together constitute the initial stages of apperception.

Thought consists of two processes that may also be termed steps, and that are more or less observable in all good teaching; they are (1) the association of newly apperceived facts with one another and with older and more firmly established ideas in order that rational connection may be established in what one knows, and especially in order that what is general and essential in given facts may be grasped by the mind; and (2) the condensation of knowledge into a system, such for instance as we see in the classifications of botany and zoölogy, or in the interdependence of principles as in arithmetic. Thought, in brief, involves the association of ideas and the derivation of generalizations such as are appropriate to the matter in hand and to the thought power of the pupils.

The third stage, that of application, is not subdivided. Most other followers of Herbart, both German and American, though varying in methods of approach, conform essentially to the results of this analysis, distinguishing five steps, as follows:—

The reader is referred to the following-named works for extended discussion of this topic: McMurray, “General Method”; [DeGarmo], “Essentials of Method”; Lange, “Apperception,” pp. 200–245; Rein (Van Liew’s translation), “Outlines of Pedagogy”; Herbart (Felkins’ translation), “Science of Education”; McMurray, C. A. & F. M., “The Method of the Recitation.” A comparative view of the treatment of the Steps of Instruction by various authors is found in Van Liew’s translation of Rein’s “Outlines of Pedagogy,” p. 145.

[ CHAPTER IV
The Conditions Determining Interest]

[71.] Interest means self-activity. The demand for a many-sided interest is, therefore, a demand for many-sided self-activity. But not all self-activity, only the right degree of the right kind, is desirable; else lively children might very well be left to themselves. There would be no need of educating or even of governing them. It is the purpose of instruction to give the right direction to their thoughts and impulses, to incline these toward the morally good and true. Children are thus in a measure passive. But this passivity should by no means involve suppression of self-activity. It should, on the contrary, imply a stimulation of all that is best in the child.

At this point a psychological distinction becomes necessary, namely, that between designedly reproduced, or “given,” and spontaneous representations. In recitations of what has been learned we have an example of the former; the latter appear in the games and fancies of children. A method of study that issues in mere reproduction leaves children largely in a passive state, for it crowds out for the time being the thoughts they would otherwise have had. In games, however, and in the free play of fancy, and accordingly also in that kind of instruction which finds an echo here, free activity predominates.

This distinction is not intended to affirm the existence of two compartments in which the ideas, separated once for all, would, of necessity, have to remain. Ideas that must by effort be raised into consciousness because they do not rise spontaneously, may become spontaneous by gradual strengthening. But this development we cannot count on unless instruction, advancing step by step, bring it about.

Interest must be conceived as self-propulsive activity toward an end. It is a part of the teacher’s function to assist the pupil in making the appropriate ideas strong and spontaneous. Occasionally a mere suggestion will change the whole mental attitude toward an end and the means for reaching it. A student one day approached his instructor with this query: “How can I get through this study with the least expenditure of time and effort?” The desired answer was first given. The instructor then remarked that there was another way of viewing the matter, viz., that one might consider how to get the most rather than the least out of the study. He then briefly unfolded its nature and possibilities, whereupon the student became one of the most interested members of the class. He had come with only an indirect interest in the subject as an end; he regarded the study as a required task and the means of passing upon it as so much drudgery; but he so changed his attitude toward it, that the study became an end personally desired, and the daily effort a pleasurable exercise of his self-directed power of thought. The interest that the instructor had aroused in the end was transferred to the means.

[72.] It is the teacher’s business, while giving instruction, to observe whether the ideas of his pupils rise spontaneously or not. If they do, the pupils are said to be attentive; the lesson has won their interest. If not, attention is, indeed, not always wholly gone. It may, moreover, be enforced for a time before actual fatigue sets in. But doubt arises whether instruction can effect a future interest in the same subjects.

Attention is a factor of such importance to education as to call for a more detailed treatment.

[73.] Attention may be broadly defined as an attitude of mind in which there is readiness to form new ideas. Such readiness is either voluntary or involuntary. If voluntary, it depends on a resolution; the teacher frequently secures this through admonitions or threats. Far more desirable and fruitful is involuntary attention. It is this attention that the art of teaching must seek to induce. Herein lies the kind of interest to be sought by the teacher.

Forced and spontaneous are more truly expressive terms than voluntary and involuntary in this connection. It is not meant that interested activity is against the will, or even indifferent to it. On the contrary, it is a form of activity that calls every resource of the mind into full play. The will is never so promptly active as when it is doing the things in which it is most interested; it is, however, a spontaneous, not a forced activity.

There is, as Dr. John Dewey points out,[6] a contradiction between Herbart’s Pedagogy and his Psychology, as follows: the Pedagogy regards interest as the lever of education, the means for securing spontaneous activity of mind; the Psychology regards interest as a feeling arising from the relation of ideas. Ideas must therefore be given, in right relations, to arouse interest, while interest is in turn conceived as the means of arousing them. This is reasoning in a circle. The difficulty arises from asserting the primacy of ideas in mental life, and then speaking of self-activity, which presupposes the primacy of motor, or impulsive activities. The reader will avoid all contradictions in educational theory by accepting the modern view of the primacy, not of ideas, but of what may broadly be termed will. The latter view is in accord with biological and historical science. Ideas are a later production of mind; they serve to define more clearly the ends for which we work, at the same time giving us insight into the best means of attaining them. For an interesting discussion of the primacy of the will, the reader is referred to Professor Paulsen’s “Introduction to Philosophy,” pp. 111–122.[7]

[6] “Interest as Related to Will,” pp. 237–241, Second Supplement to First Herbart Year Book.

[7] Henry Holt & Co., New York, 1895.

[74.] Involuntary [spontaneous] attention is subdivided into primitive and apperceiving. The latter especially is of the greatest importance in teaching, but it rests on the former, the conditions of which must constantly be taken into account.

Apperception, or assimilation, takes place through the reproduction of previously acquired ideas and their union with the new element, the most energetic apperception, although not necessarily the best, being effected by the ideas rising spontaneously. This topic will be treated more fully below ([77]). Here it suffices to say that the apperceiving attention obviously presupposes the primitive attention; otherwise apperceiving ideas would never have been formed.

The psychological and educational importance of the idea of apperception, or the assimilation of knowledge, has been much emphasized in recent years. For a psychological interpretation of the theory, the reader is referred to Wundt’s “Human and Animal Psychology,”[8] pp. 235–251. The educational significance of the doctrine has been well brought out by Dr. Karl Lange, in his able monograph on “Apperception.”[9] The subject has been more popularly treated in Dr. McMurray’s “General Method,”[10] and in the writer’s “Essentials of Method”[11]; also in a number of other works.

[8] New York, Macmillan & Co., 1894.

[9] Boston, D. C. Heath & Co., 1894.

[10] Bloomington, Ill., Public School Pub. Co., 1894.

[11] Boston, D. C. Heath & Co., 1893.

[75.] The primitive or original attention depends primarily on the strength of the sense-impression. Bright colors and loud speaking are more easily noticed than dark colors and low tones. It would be an error, however, to infer that the strongest sense-perceptions are at the same time the most adequate. These quickly blunt the receptivity, while weak sense-impressions may, in the course of time, engender ideation as energetic as that produced by originally obtrusive perceptions. For this reason, a middle course must be chosen from the first. For children, however, the direct sense-perception, even of a picture, if the object itself is not to be had, is altogether preferable to mere description.

The presence in the minds of children of ideas—those supplied by instruction itself not excepted—contrary to the new representations to be mastered, acts as a hindrance or check. This very fact explains why clearness of apprehension is not gained where instruction piles up one thing upon another in too rapid succession. It is essential, therefore, in the case of beginners, so to single out each fact, to separate part from part, and to proceed step by step, that apprehension may be rendered easy for them.

A second hindrance to attention is of a more temporary character, but may nevertheless work much mischief. It makes a vast difference whether the ideas aroused are in a state of equilibrium or not. Long sentences in speech and in books are less easily apprehended than short ones. They excite a movement of many albeit connected thoughts, which do not at once subside into their proper places. Now, just as in reading and writing pauses must be observed, which is done more easily in short than in long sentences, instruction in general must have its chosen stopping-places and resting-points at which the child may tarry as long as may be necessary. Otherwise the accumulation of thoughts will become excessive, crowding in upon what follows, and this upon the next new element, until finally the pupils arrive at a state where they no longer hear anything.

[76.] The four essentials then for primitive attention are: strength of sense-impression, economy of receptivity, avoidance of harmful antitheses to existing ideas, and delay until the aroused ideas have recovered their equilibrium. But in actual teaching it will be found difficult to do justice to all of these requirements simultaneously. Sameness of presentation should not be carried too far lest the child’s receptivity be taxed too heavily. Monotony produces weariness. But a sudden change of subject frequently discloses the fact that the new is too remote from what has preceded, and that the old thoughts refuse to give way. If the change is delayed too long the lesson drags. Too little variety causes ennui. The pupils begin to think of something else, and with that their attention is gone completely.

The teacher should by all means study literary masterpieces for the purpose of learning from great authors how they escaped these difficulties. That he may strike the right chord in the earlier stages of instruction, he should turn particularly to simple popular writers, Homer, for example, whose story-telling is, on the other hand, too general and naïve for older pupils who have lost the power to put themselves back into a past period of culture. Yet it is safe to say in general, that classic writers seldom take sudden leaps and never stand still entirely. Their method of unfolding consists in a scarcely perceptible, at any rate an always easy, advance. They dwell, indeed, long on the same thought, but nevertheless achieve, little by little, most powerful contrasts. Poor writers, on the contrary, pile up the most glaring antitheses without other than the natural result—the antagonistic ideas expel each other and the mind is left empty. The same result threatens the teacher who aims at brilliancy of presentation.

[77.] The apperceiving, or assimilating, attention ([74]), though not the first in time, is yet observed very early. It shows itself when little children catch and repeat aloud single, familiar words of an otherwise unintelligible conversation between adults; when a little later they name, in their own way, the well-known objects that they come upon in their picture-books; when later still, while learning to read, they pick out from the book single names coinciding with their recollection; and so on in innumerable other instances. From within ideas are suddenly bursting forth to unite with whatever similar elements present themselves. Now this apperceiving activity must be exercised constantly in all instruction. For instruction is given in words only; the ideas constituting their meaning must be supplied by the hearer. But words are not meant to be understood merely; they are intended to elicit interest. And this requires a higher grade and greater facility of apperception.

Universally popular poems do not produce their pleasing effect by teaching something new. They portray what is already known and utter what every one feels. Ideas already possessed are aroused, expanded, condensed, and consequently put in order and strengthened. On the other hand, when defects are apperceived, e.g., misprints, grammatical blunders, faulty drawings, false notes, etc., the successive unfolding of the series of ideas is interrupted so that their interlacing cannot take place properly. Here we see how instruction must proceed and what it must avoid in order to secure interest.

Note.—The apperceiving attention is of so great importance in instruction that a word or two more will be in place. The highest stage of this kind of attention is indicated by the words—gaze, scrutinize, listen, handle. The idea of the examined object is already present in consciousness, as is likewise the idea of the class of sense-perceptions looked for. The psychic result turns on the ensuing sense-impressions, on their contrasts, combinations, and reproductions. These are able to induce the corresponding mental states unhindered, because disturbing foreign elements have already been removed and remain excluded. Passing from this highest grade to lower degrees of attention, we find that the idea of the object is not yet—at least not prominently—present, that this itself first needs to be reproduced and made more vivid. The question arises whether this can be accomplished directly or only indirectly. In the former case the idea must be in itself strong enough; in the second it must be sufficiently united with other ideas which it is possible to arouse directly. Moreover, the obstacles to reproduction must be such that they can be overcome.

When the apperceiving attention is once under way, it should be utilized and not disturbed. The teaching must take the promised direction until it has satisfied expectation. The solutions must correspond clearly to the problems. Everything must be connected. The attention is disturbed by untimely pauses and the presence of extraneous matter. It is also disturbed by apperceptions that bring into light that which should remain in shadow. This is true of words and phrases too often repeated, of mannerisms of speech—of everything that gives prominence to the language at the expense of the subject-matter, even rhymes, verse-forms, and rhetorical adornment when used in the wrong place.

But that which is too simple must be avoided also. In this case the apperception is soon completed; it does not give enough to do. The fullest unit possible is to be sought.

A rule of vital importance is that, before setting his pupils at work, the teacher should take them into the field of ideas wherein their work is to be done. He can accomplish this at the beginning of a recitation hour by means of a brief outline view of the ground to be covered in the lesson or lecture.

[78.] Instruction is to supplement that which has been gained already by experience and by intercourse with others ([36]); these foundations must exist when instruction begins. If they are wanting, they must be firmly established first. Any deficiency here means a loss to instruction, because the pupils lack the thoughts which they need in order to interpret the words of the teacher.

In the same way, knowledge derived from earlier lessons must be extended and deepened by subsequent instruction. This presupposes such an organization of the whole work of instruction that that which comes later shall always find present the earlier knowledge with which it is to be united.

[79.] Ordinarily, because their eyes are fixed solely on the facts to be learned, teachers concern themselves little with the ideas already possessed by the pupils. Consequently they make an effort in behalf of the necessary attention only when it is failing and progress is checked. Now they have recourse to voluntary attention ([73]), and to obtain this rely on inducements, or, more often, on reprimands and penalties. Indirect interest is thus substituted for direct interest, with the result that the resolution of the pupil to be attentive fails to effect energetic apprehension and realizes but little coherence. It wavers constantly, and often enough gives way to disgust.

In the most favorable case, if instruction is thorough, i.e., scientific, a foundation of elementary knowledge is gradually laid sufficiently solid for later years to build on; in other words, out of the elementary knowledge an apperceiving mass is created in the mind of the pupil which will aid him in his future studies. There may be several of such masses; but each constitutes by itself its own kind of one-sided learning, and it is after all doubtful whether even here direct interest is implied. For there is small hope that this interest will be aroused in the youth when the years of boyhood have been devoted merely to the mastering of preliminary knowledge. The prospects of future station and calling are opening before him and the examinations are at hand.

[80.] The fact should not be overlooked, however, that even the best method cannot secure an adequate degree of apperceiving attention ([75]–[78]) from every pupil; recourse must accordingly be had to the voluntary attention, i.e., the pupil’s resolution. But for the necessary measures the teacher must depend, not merely on rewards and punishments, but chiefly on habit and custom. Instruction unites at this point with government and training. In all cases where the pupil begins his work not entirely without compulsion, it is particularly important that he should soon become aware of his own progress. The several steps must be distinctly and suitably pointed out to him; they must at the same time be easy of execution and succeed each other slowly. The instruction should be given with accuracy, even strictness, seriousness, and patience.

[81.] The voluntary attention is most frequently demanded for memorizing, for which, apart from all else, the presence of interest is not always a perfectly favorable condition. This is true even of spontaneous interest, for the ideas that rise spontaneously have a movement of their own, which by deviating from the given sequence may lead to surreptitious substitutions. Like observation, intentional memorizing presupposes a certain amount of self-control. At this point a question arises as to the proper place of learning by heart.

Committing to memory is very necessary; use is made of it in every department of knowledge. But memorizing should never be the first thing except when it is done without effort. For if the memorizing of new matter, which the pupil cannot as yet have associated incorrectly, costs him an effort, it is plain that the single presentations encounter some opposition or other by which they are repelled too quickly for their mutual association to take place. The teacher must in this case talk the subject over first, set the pupil to work upon it, make him more familiar with it, and must sometimes even wait for a more opportune moment. Where clearness in single perceptions and their association ([67] et seq.) are still deficient, these must be attended to first of all. After the ideas have been strengthened in this way, memorizing will be accomplished more easily.

The assigned series should not be too long. Three foreign words are often more than enough. Many pupils have to be shown how to memorize. Left to themselves they will begin over and over again, then halt, and try in vain to go on. A fundamental rule is that the starting-point be shifted. If, for example, the name Methuselah is to be learned, the teacher would, perhaps, say successively: lah,—selah,—thuselah,—Methuselah.

Some have to be warned against trying to get through quickly. We have to do here with a physical mechanism which requires time and whose operation the pupil himself as little as the teacher should endeavor to over-accelerate. Slow at first, then faster.

It is not always advisable to put a stop to all bodily movements. Many memorize by way of speaking aloud, others through copying, some through drawing. Reciting in concert also may prove feasible at times.

Incorrect associations are very much to be feared; they are tenacious. A great deal, to be sure, may be accomplished through severity; but when interest in the subject-matter is wholly lacking, the pupil begins by memorizing incorrectly, then ceases to memorize at all, and simply wastes time.

The absolute failure of some pupils in memory work may perhaps be partly owing to unknown physical peculiarities. Very often, however, the cause of the evil lies in the state of false tension into which such pupils put themselves while attempting with reluctance what they regard as an almost impossible task. A teacher’s injudicious attitude during the first period, his remarks, for instance, about learning by heart as a thing of toil and trouble, may lead to this state of mind, for which perhaps awkward first steps in learning to read have prepared the way. It is foolish to look for means of lightening still more the exercises of children that retain and recite with facility; but, on the other hand, great caution is necessary because there are also others who may be rendered unfit for memorizing by the first attempt of the teacher to make them recite, or even only to repeat after him, a certain series of words. In attempting, by such early tests, to find out whether children retain and reproduce easily, it is essential that the teacher put them in good humor, that he select his matter with this end in view, and that he go on only so long as they feel they can do what is asked of them. The results of his observations must determine the further mode of procedure.

[82.] However carefully the process of memorizing may have been performed, the question remains: How long will the memorized matter be retained? On this point teachers deceive themselves time and again, in spite of universally common experiences.

Now, in the first place, not everything that is learned by heart needs to be retained. Many an exercise serves its purpose when it prepares the way for the next, and renders further development possible. In this way a short poem is sometimes learned as a temporary means for an exercise in declamation; or chapters from Latin authors are committed to memory in order to speed the writing and speaking of Latin. In many cases it is sufficient for later years if the pupil knows how to look for literary helps, and how to make use of them.

But if, secondly, that which has been memorized is to remain impressed on the memory for a long time, forever if possible, it is only a questionable expedient to reassign the same thing as often as it is forgotten. The feeling of weary disgust may more than offset the possible gain. There is only one efficient method—practice; practice consisting in the constant application of that which is to be retained to that which actually interests the pupils, in other words, that which continually engages the ideas rising spontaneously.

Here we find the principle that governs the choice of material for successful memorizing. And as to the amount—so much as is needed for the immediate future; for excessive quantity promotes an early forgetting. Besides, in instruction, as in experience, there is a great deal that may not be accurately remembered, but nevertheless renders abundant service by stimulating the mind and qualifying it for further work.

[ CHAPTER V
The Main Kinds of Interest]

[83.] Instruction is to be linked to the knowledge that experience provides, and to the ethical sentiments that arise from social intercourse ([36]). Empirical interest relates directly to experience; sympathetic interest to human association. Discursive reflection on the objects of experience involves the development of speculative interest, reflection on the wider relations of society that of social interest. With these we group, on the one hand æsthetic, on the other religious interest, both of which have their origin not so much in discursive thought as in a non-progressing contemplation of things and of human destiny.