LIBRARY BUREAU or EDUCATION fi— 1132 THE THEORY OF TEACHING AND ELEMENTARY PSYCHOLOGY ^£H.^H I ^r c ■'-Vg. 'f.: ALBERT SALISBURY, Ph.D. FEBSIDBNT OF THE STATE NORMAL SCHOOL, WHITEWATER, WIS. CHICAGO ROW, PETERSON & CO. 1907 COPYRIGHT, 1905 BY ALBERT SALISBURY PREFACE This treatise, if such it may be called, is professedly of a rudimentary character; it is designed for beginners in the study of educational psychology and pedagogy. Its purpose is only to lay a foundation for such study, to open up the subject and give the student the necessary tools for working the field of pedagogical thought. For nearly twenty years, the writer has taken in hand, twice in each year, a class of pupils in the second year of the normal school course with this purpose of inducting them into the elements of pedagogical theory. Finding no text-book in existence suitable to his view of such an undertaking, he was compelled to give the instruction in an oral, *'Socratic," conversational manner, using books only for occasional reference. The time has now come, as it seems to him, for reducing this work to written form, with a view to economizing the time of future pupils, and in the hope that it may serve a useful purpose to young teachers in their daily work or as mem- bers of circles for profess-ional reading and study. The peculiar form and arrangement given to the matter of this book are thus the outgrowth of long experience and direct contact with students as yet unused to intro- spection or to abstract thought. The writer, as a teacher, has sought continually to find the natural methods of approach and the natural lines of progress in the develop- ment of a pedagogical attitude of mind, without too much regard to traditional modes, and yet with a careful avoidance of eccentricity or intentional novelty. Clear- ness and conciseness have been a constant aim. IV PREFACE A fatal defect with most, if not all, text-books on psy- chology as yet offered to the public is found in the fact that their authors are always, unconsciously, talking to other psychologists and never to tyros. They seem uni- formly unable to conceive the real condition of mind in which students in normal schools and high schools come to their first contact with any study of their own minds or the laws of mental activity; and so they proceed to submerge the young people in depths of incomprehension and bewilderment. Another fault common in works of this sort is the dryness and opacity due to dearth of ade- quate and pertinent illustration. The author hopes that he has been successful in avoiding these sins, whatever other mistakes he may have fallen into. All rational pedagogy looks to psychology for its guid- ing principles, but not to psychology alone. The laws of mental growth are laws of teaching; but psychology rests back on physiology and leads forward into logic and ethics. A proper introduction to the principles of teach ing involves, therefore, considerable familiarity with thu physiology of the nervous system as a necessary prelimi^ nary to the comprehension and application of psycho- logical laws. lb also involves some acquaintance with elementary logic, a truth too often overlooked in the training of teachers. There has been no effort in this work to keep the physiology, the psychology, and the logic separate and distinct; indeed, a contrary purpose has prevailed. Whether the "blend" has been success- fully effected, it remains for the reader to decide. It has not been thought necessary to put everything into the book that ought to go into the mind of the student. Much has intentionally been left to the teacher. The several paragraphs, or sections, are rather in the nature of texts than of complete discourses. It is hoped PREFACE V that whoever teaches the book, including leaders of read- ing circles, may keep this fact clearly in mind. Nor has it been thought needful to load the ciiapters up with bibliographies. Each teacher will be able to furnish his own, adjusted to the material Avhich is accessible to his class. It is believed that the book is well suited as a text-book in either theory of teaching or elementary psychology. High school classes wishing a brief course in psychology without definite reference to teaching may omit Parts I and III, using only Part II. On the other hand, pros- pective teachers will cover the whole book in regular order, Part III furnishing not only the pedagogical appli- cation of what 2^1'ecedes, but also an effective review of Part II. Pupils already well versed in psychology can omit Part II as far as Chapter XXIV. But Chapters XXIV and XXVI, on Language and General Method, should not be omitted under any circumstances. Special acknowledgment is hereby made to Dr. J. W. Stearns, late of the University of Wisconsin, for valued service in reading the whole work in manuscript and making useful criticisms and suggestions. Similar service was rendered by my assistant in psychology. Prof. H. H. Schroeder. Acknowledgment is also made of the kind- ness of D. C. Heath & Co., in permitting the use of several cuts from Colton^s Briefer Physiology^ and of Ginn & Co., in allowing the use of cuts from BlaisdelVs Practical Physiology, Whitewater, Wis., January, 1905 TABLE OF CONTENTS PART I. INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER I What Theory Means PAGE What Theory Means 1 Scientific Use of the Term 2 Distinction between Hypothesis and Theory 3 Theory and Practice 3 Scope of the Term Illustrated 4 Why Study the Theory of Teaching? 4 Summary 5 CHAPTER II Education, Its Nature and End The Derivation of the Term 6 What Development Means 6 The Factors of Education 7 The End of Education 8 Other Statements of the End 9 Mental Symmetry as an End 10 The Objects of a School 10 Summary 11 CHAPTER III The Teacher's Material: Mind The Teacher Must Know His Material 12 Peculiarity of the Teacher's Material. 12 What the Teacher Needs to Know , 13 Summary 14 vii Vlll TABLE OF CONTENTS PART II. ELEMENTARY PSYCHOLOGY AND LOGIC CHAPTER IV The Nature of Mind PAGE What is Mind? 15 What Matter and Mind Do 15 Knowing, Feeling, and WiUing 16 Consciousness 17 Connection of Mind and Body 17 Psychology 18 Summary 19 CHAPTER V How Knowledge Begins Mental Status of the New-boni Babe 20 The Helplessness of Infancy , • • • • 20 The First Consciousness 21 The First Intellectual Activity 22 The Sources of Knowledge : 22 Self-Consciousness as a Source of Knowledge 23 Summary 24 CHAPTER VI The Nervous Mechanism Sensation the Starting Point of Consciousness 25 The Physical Basis of Sensation 25 The Brain 26 Nerves 27 The Spinal Cord • 29 Summary 29 CHAPTER VII The Nervous Mechanism {Continued) Elements of the Nervous Mechanism 31 Nerve Centers ■ . . , 31 Nerve Ends , , , . • 32 TABLE OF CONTENTS IX PAGE The Stimulation of Nerve Ends 32 The Discharge of Nerve Centers 33 Neurones 34 Axones 35 Summary 37 CHAPTER VIII Reflex Action The Nerve Circuit 38 Reflex Action 38 Reflex Action in Man 3£ Common Misconceptions 4G Spontaneous, or Impulsive, Action 41 Summary 41 CHAPTER IX Sensation Sensation 42 The Conditions of Sensation 42 The Threshold of Sensation 43 Quantity and Quality of Sensation 43 The Senses 44 Summary. . , , 45 CHAPTER X The Body-Serving Senses Organic Sensations 46 The Thermal Sense 47 The Sense of Taste 47 Smell '. . 48 Confusion of Taste and Smell 50 Uses of Taste and Smell 60 Summary j 51 CHAPTER XI The Knowledge-Giving Senses The Muscular Sense 52 Ideas Derived from Muscular Sensations 53 X TABLE OF COKTENTS PAGE The Sense of Touch 53 Intellectual Service of the Sense of Touch 54 Localization of Tactile Sensations 55 Active Touch 56 Summary 56 CHAPTER XII The Sense of Hearing The Organ of Hearing 58 The Inner Ear 58 The Cochlea 60 The Physical Process of Hearing 61 The Physics of Sound 62 The Properties of Tone 62 Ideas Given by Hearing 63 How Hearing Serves the Mind 64 Summary 64 CHAPTER XIII The Sense of Sight The Organ of Sight 66 The Retina 66 The Stimulation of the Retina 68 Accommodation . . 69 The Muscles of the Eyeball 70 Sensations of Sight 70 Muscular Sensations of the Eye 70 Ideas Derived from Sight 71 Ideas of Distance 72 Ideas of Solid Form 73 Another Retinal Sign of Solidity 74 Inversion of the Retinal Image 74 After-images 76 Summary 77 Tabular Outline of the Senses 78 CHAPTER XIV Sense Defects The Limitations of the Blind 80 The Limitations of the Deaf 81 TABLE OF CONTENTS XI PAGE Partial Defects of Vision 81 Color Blindness 82 Partial Defects of Hearing 83 The Blind-Deaf 84 Summary 85 CHAPTER XV Perception Sensation and Perception . . , 86 The Process of Perception , 86 The Perceptive Act Illustrated 87 Perception Further Characterized 88 Pure Sensations 89 Illusions 90 Training in Perception 90 Summary o . . . . 92 CHAPTER XVI Attention The Distribution of Consciousness 93 Attention Defined 93 Conditions of Attention 94 Interest 95 Kinds of Attention 96 Voluntary Attention , 96 Choice of Interests 97 Summary 98 CHAPTER XVII Memory Representation 99 Phases of the Memory Process 100 Retention Defined 101 Nature of the Brain Changes 101 The Conditions of Retention 102 Reproduction 102 Association 103 Law oi Cause and Effect 104 Law of Similarity 104 xii TABLE OF CONTENTS PAGE Law of Contrast 105 The Place of Association by Contiguity, . 105 Association in Learning to Read 106 The Higher Forms of Association 107 Breadth of Association 107 Summary 108 CHAPTER XVIIl Memory {Continued) Recognition 110 Kinds of Memory Ill Disparagement of Memory Ill Special Memories 112 Remembrance and Recollection 113 Mnemonics 114 Summary 114 Tabular Outhne of Memory 115 CHAPTER XIX Imagination Images 116 The Process of Imagination 117 Phases, or Kinds, of Imagination 117 The Uses of Imagination 118 Cognitive Imagination 119 Inventive, or Practical, Imagination 119 Aesthetic, or Artistic, Imagination 120 Ethical Imagination 121 Imagination and Emotion 121 Imagination in Children 122 Crudity of Childish Fancy 124 Dangers of Imagination 124 Cultivation of Imagination 125 Summary 127 CHAPTER XX Conception The Thought Powers 128 Concepts 1 29 The Process of Conception 129 TABLE OF CONTENTS XIU PAGE Illustration of the Growth of a Concept 130 Abstract Notions 130 Concepts Cannot be Imaged 131 Concepts Not Fixed in Content 132 Relations of Concepts: Genus and Species 133 Intension and Extension 134 Concepts in Series 135 Summary 135 CHAPTER XXI Definition and Division Definition 137 The Structure of a Definition 137 Rules of Definition 138 Exercise in Applying Rules of Definition 138 Logical Division 139 Rules for Division 140 Summary 140 CHAPTER XXII Judgment What We Mean by a Judgment 141 The Essential Parts, or Elements, of a Judgment 142 Nature of the Predicate Idea 142 Classification of Judgments 143 Exercise in Classification of Judgments 145 Euler's Notation Further Illustrated 145 Indistinct Judgments; Their Causes 147 Relation of Judgment to Other Mental Processes 148 Relation of Judgment to Conception 149 Summary 149 CHAPTER XXIII Reasoning Reasoning 150 The Syllogism 150 Essential Characteristics of Deductive Reasoning 151 Dangers of Deductive Reasoning 152 Demonstrative Reasoning 153 Why Mathematical Reasoning is so Certain in its Results. ... 154 XIV TABLE OF CONTENTS PAGE The Major Premise May Not be Expressed 154 How We Come by General Judgments 154 The Inductive Process 1 55 The Essential Characteristics of Induction 1 56 Early Use of Inductive Reasoning 156 Reasoning by Analogy 157 Summary 159 CHAPTER XXIV Language What Language Is 161 Division of Language 161 The Language of Animals 162 Can We Think Without Words? 163 Specific Relations of Words to Ideas 164 The Uses of Language 165 Limitations of Language 168 Dangers in the Use of Language 169 Accuracy in Choice of Words 171 Putting One's Thought in Various Ways 172 Summary. 173 CHAPTER XXV Analysis and Synthesis Analysis 174 We Analyze Individuals, Not Classes 175 Analysis and Synthesis 175 Analysis a Form of Discrimination 176 Summary 177 CHAPTER XXVI General Method Method. 178 Method and Manner: Special Methods 178 One Method of Learning 179 The Naming of This Method 180 Another Method of Learning 181 Names of This Method 182 The "Complete" Method 183 Further Illustration of the Two Methods 184 TABLE OF COKTEifTS XV PAGE The Place of Inductive Method 186 Advantages of the Inductive Method 187 Limitations of the Inductive Method 187 What is Really Economical 189 Summary 190 CHAPTER XXVII Habit The Basis of Habit 192 Examples of Plabit 193 Essential Characteristics of Habit 193 Difference between Habitual and Reflex Action 194 Difference between Habit and Instinct 195 The Effects of Habit on Life 195 The Bondage of Habit 196 Summary 199 CHAPTER XXVIII Instinct Vagueness in Use of the Term 200 Instinct Applies Only to Action 200 Illustration of Instinctive Action 201 Characteristics of Instinctive Activity 201 Explanation of Instinctive Activity 203 Instinct in Man 203 TransitorinesS of Some Instincts 204 Summary 204 CHAPTER XXIX The Feelings What Feeling Is 206 Classification of Feelings 206 The Reflexive Effect of Feeling 207 The Genesis of Feeling 208 Different Types of Emotion 209 The Higher Sentiments 210 Conscience 211 Feelings as Motives 212 Children's Feelings 212 Summary 214 Tabular Outline of Feelings 214 XVI TABLE OF CONTENTS PAGE CHAPTER XXX Will What Will Is 216 Different Types of Action 217 Voluntary Action 218 Development of Will through Physical Exercise 219 Development of Voluntary Control over Ideas and Feelings. . 219 The Establishment of Character 221 Summary 222 PART III. THE PRINCIPLES OF TEACHING CHAPTER XXXI Mind and Body 225 CHAPTER XXXII Heredity and Environment 231 CHAPTER XXXIII The Law of Habit 235 CHAPTER XXXIV The Law of Self-Activity 241 CHAPTER XXXV The Law of Development 253 CHAPTER XXXVI The Law of Interest 264 CHAPTER XXXVII The Law of Apperception 271 CHAPTER XXXVIII The Law of Presentation 277 CHAPTER XXXIX The Law of Association 280 TABLE OP CONTENTS XVll PAGE CHAPTER XL Imagination 284 CHAPTER XLI Abstraction and Generalization 287 CHAPTER XLII Description and Explanation '. 291 CHAPTER XLIII Language 294 CHAPTER XLIV The Law of Expression 299 CHAPTER XLV Will 305 CHAPTER XL VI Feeling and Education 307 CHAPTER XL VII Knowledge and Education 311 CHAPTER XLVIII The Art of Study 320 PART I INTRODUCTORY CHAPTER I WHAT THEORY MEANS As already intimated in the preface, it is the purpose of this book to serve the ends of teachers and others who desire to make an elementary but careful and systematic study of the theory of teaching and whatsoever is neces- sary to a clear and correct apprehension of the same. And perhaps the first step in that direction should be to get a definite conception of what is really meant, or should be meant, by the term theory; since the word, although in very common use, is somewhat ambiguous, well illus- trating the fact that many words come to have divergent meanings, and that we need always to discern which meaning is intended in any given instance. Much con- fusion often arises, among teachers as well as other people, through neglect of this very important fact. What Theory Means. — Etymologically, the word is derived from a Greek word meaning to behold. Thus, in its ancient use, theoria meant anything found out, information, knowledge of any sort; but the modern use is much more restricted. In common speech, it is often used to denote a supposition, a conjecture, more or less elaborated, and proposed as a reasonable explanation of 2 THE THEORY OF TEACHING some obscure fact or condition of things not fully nnder- stood. Thus, if a lionse had been mysteriously burned with all its inmates, each witness of the result might have, his own individual "theory" of how the fire originated. If, however, the fact to be accounted for were one of great importance or of scientific interest, the speculation, or tentative solution , would be called a hypothesis. Hypothesis and supposition are respectively the Greek and Latin words denoting one and the same idea; the word theory should not be confused with either of these by careful speakers. Scientific Use of the Term. — In scientific usage, the term theory has acquired a meaning still farther removed from its original sense. It stands for the tvhole hody of p)Tinci' pies underlying any subject or branch of hnowledge. Principles are defined as fundamental truths. It thus becomes necessary to understand the difference between truths and facts. Fact is derived from facere^ to make or do. A fact is something made or done, a completed event or thing. Facts are single, individual,, particular. Each tick of a clock, for instance, is a fact; the clock itself is a fact. A fact has reality only at a particular time and place. Truths, on the other hand, are general, universal. A truth is ahvays true. It is a truth that all clocks tick. It is a fact that I have two eyes; it is a truth that every normally constituted man has two eyes. What we call the laws of nature are truths. Thus /«w, truth., and iwinciple mean much the same thing. Science is made up of truths, or principles; it is general knowledge. Hence theory and science mean much the same thing. It seems necessary, therefore, to keep in mind the fact that theory has two divergent meanings, (1) The loose, popular meaning of supposition, hypothesis, guesswork by WHAT THEORY MEANS 3 way of explaining phenomena, and (2) The strict, scien- tific meaning of the body of principles underlying a subject. Distinction detiueen Hypothesis and Theory. — It is useful to note a distinctioQ sometimes made between theory and hypothesis. While the supposition, or specu- lation, especially if somewhat elaborate or complex, is still mere conjecture, it is called a hypothesis. When evidence for it has accumulated so that it comes to be generally accepted as established, it is then called a theory. Thus, men once spoke of the nebular hypothesis, the evolution hypothesis, whereas we now speak of the nebular theory, the evolution theory. Thus theory in the loose, popular use, like hypothesis, is applied to tentative, conjectural explanations of events and phenomena, while in its scientific use it is applied only to the true and verified explanations based in the nature of things, the laws of nature and of life. Theory and Practice. — The terms tlieory and practice.^ like science and art^ are correlative terms, the one having reference to knowledge general, or universal, in its char- acter ; the other having reference to skill in the doing of things. People often assume a contradiction between theory and practice. They say, "That may be good theory, but it will network in practice." Such a remark grows out of a misconception of terms. Nothing can be good theory which will not work out in practice. Theory is the truth which underlies practice, or art. We must prove a proposed theory to be false or untenable before we are entitled to say that it will not work in practice. Of course, a genuine failure to "work" under proper condi- tions would argue that the proposed theory was either false or not rightly understood by those attempting to apply it. 4: THE THEORY OF TEACHING Scope of the Term Illustrated. — The full application of the term theory may be illustrated by reference to the construction of a great building or bridge. No amount of mere practical knowledge, or knowledge of facts, would suffice for such an undertaking. There must first be an architect or engineer with a large equipment of theoretical knowledge. This will comprise a knowledge of (1) The End, or Purpose, of the structure; (2) The Materials, including full understanding of their properties and con- sequent fitness; (3) The Mechanism, or the principles and forms of mechanical construction. The intelligent practice of teaching, in like manner, involves a knowledge of the theory, or principles, of teach- ing in these three lines of End, Material, and Mechanism, or Method. Why Study the Theory of Teaching? — We study the theory of teaching for the same reason that we study the theory of mechanics, namely, tliat our practice may he more intelligent^ safe., and economical. Theoretical knowledge in connection with and antecedent to any art tends to prevent waste of material and waste of effort, as well as to secure more perfect results. A famous English surgeon was complimented on his skill in operations on the eye. He replied sadly, "Yes, but it has cost a whole bushel of eyes." A complete scientific equipment at the outset would doubtless have saved many of that "bushel" of eyeSc The teacher's art is so far-reaching in its effects, so remediless when misdirected, that theoretical foundations, wherever discoverable, are more essential and imperative than with any other art. "Forewarned is forearmed," and it behooves the teacher to have all possible light and guidance through knowledge of the general laws and principles which underlie his work, WHAT THEORY MEANS 5 Summary. — The word theory, in common speech, means a sup- position or hypothesis; in stricter, scientific usage it means the body of fundamental truths, or principles, underlying a subject. Truths are general, universal; facts are particular, individual. When a hypothesis has become generally accepted, it is called a theory. The terms theory and science are closely related, as are their correlatives, art and practice. The theory underlying any art comprises knowledge of (1) The End, (2) Materials, and (3) Mechanism, or Metliod. We study the theory of teaching, as we do that of any other art, to prevent mistakes and needless waste. CHAPTER II EDUCATION: ITS NATURE AND END The Derivation of the Term. — The word education is derived, according to the traditional etymology, from the Latin educere^ to draw out, or bring forth. A mistaken application of this etymology has, however, often been made. Education is not drawing out in the mechanical sense of "pumping," or seeking to elicit ex2:)ression of knowledge. A helpful illustration of the true application may rather be drawn from the garden. When a seed or bulb is planted, under proper conditions, we may think of sun and rain as drawing out the plant from its germ, pro- ducing "first the blade, then the ear, then the full corn in the ear." In such a sense only is education a drawing- out process. It stimulates and, in a manner, directs the development of what is already in the germ potentially. The closest synonym for education is development. What Development Means. — Development includes growth, but is something more than growth. While growth, physically speaking, may mean only increase of bulk or weight, development involves increase in com- plexity of structure and of function, with consequent increase of value or capacity. There is, however, really no such thing as mental growth without development of some sort. Mental development implies increase of capacity in vari- ous directions. AVe may specify (1) Increase in capacity for worh^ efficiency, the ability to bring things to pass. EDUCATION: ITS NATURE AND END 7 (2) For tinder standing^ comprehension of the true nature and reasons of things. (3) For enjoyment^ the power to derive satisfaction from the various elements of our envi- ronment. (4) For usefulness^ serviceable ness to those about us and to society. These four factors of personal development more or less overlap. The efficient man commands his price in the world. His efficiency is itself a source of enjoyment and a chief means of usefulness. The man who understands derives great enjoyment from his understanding. The educated, or developed, man has more channels of enjoy- ment and deeper currents flowing in them. The service- able, self-sacrificing man is such by reason of his under- standing and efficiency, and derives the highest type of enjoyment from his service to mankind. The Factors of Education. — Education includes cer- tain factors, differing in form. The first of these is Instruction. The word is derived from instruere^ mean- ing to build within. Instruction is therefore the building up, within the mind of another, of a body of organized knowledge, not mere facts heaped up like a sand-pile, but truths fitted together and forming a mental structure. A second factor is Training. This bears the same relation to instruction that art does to science. It develops the power to do things and to apply knowledge. The end of instruction is knowledge ; the end of training is skill. Skill is perfection in doing; it involves (a) accuracy in execution, (b) facility^ or ease of execution, and (c) rapid- ity of execution, which is, in fact, only a consequence or accompaniment of facility. We train children in the arts, for instance, of reading, penmanship, singing, and gym- nastics. We instruct them in history and the sciences. But education includes something more than instruc- tion and training. This additional element, unfortu- 8 THE THEORY OF TEACHING nately, has not been clearly enough differentiated to receive a distinctive name. It is the remaining part of what produces character. Perhaps the term inspiration would serve as well as any. We may say, ( Instructs, then, that Education -\ Trains, ( Inspires. In the case of savage or primitive peoples, education consists chiefly of training, that factor being magnified to meet the end of self-preservation and the demands of the tribe, or social unit, including the forms of religious cere- monial. This training is often rigorous and admirably suited to the conditions which it is designed to perpetuate, as in the case of the Zunis and other Pueblo Indians. European education, in the past, has laid its greatest stress on instruction, aiming to produce the scholar or learned man rather than the efficient member of society. THE EI^D OF EDUCATION As the architect must first know the end, or purpose, of the building which he is set to construct, before his professional knowledge and skill can be brought into suc- cessful play, so the educator must have a well defined con- ception of the end at which education aims, the result which it should strive to produce in those subjected to its processes. Otherwise, its course will be capricious and haphazard and constantly liable to wasteful misdirection. And it must be remembered that the child has but one chance at education; if that chance is missed or wasted, the loss and damage are eternal. Statements of the End of Education. — The end of edu- cation has been stated in many ways, which differ more, perhaps, in their phraseology than in their real significa- tion. Probably the most familiar is the one attributed to education: its nature and end 9 Rousseau and endorsed by Herbert Spencer, viz., The end of education is comjolete living. This is a very concise formula, and helpful if one understands what is really involved in living completely. In forming an idea of the contrast between a complete life and a narrow, fragmen- tary one, we may be helped by comparing the actual mental life and soul-experience of some uneducated, neglected, and spiritually stunted person of our acquaint- ance with our idea of his original, native possibilities, intellectual and moral, under a favorable regimen, or environment. Another formula favored by many philosophers makes the end of education to be self-realization^ the fulfillment of one's destiny, the attainment of one's highest possibil- ities as a human being. Thus Plato held that education should "give to the body and to the soul all the beauty and all the perfection of which they are capable." A more recent statement of the end, derived from the German philosopher Herbart and now widely popularized, is that of "character building," which becomes really significant only when we arrive at a satisfactory definition of what is meant by character. Of these three formulge, so nearly equivalent in mean- ing, perhaps the most satisfactory and self-explanatory is that of self-realization. Under it, education is viewed as a process of gradual unfoldment, the opening out of all the soul's powers, as the perfect flower with all its organs is unfolded from the tiny bud, or even as the oak from the acorn. Oilier Statements of the End. — Other statements of the aim or ideal have been proposed which lay less emphasis on the development of the individual as such and more on his preparation for life as a member of human society. Among the best of these, is that offered by Thomas David- 10 THE THEORY OF TEACHING son, to wit: "The aim of education is the evolution of a social individual in intelligence, sympathy, and will." This involves the thought that man is not educated "to himself alone," but in order that he may play a fit and useful part among his fellow men. A similar conception of education now commanding attention is that its function is that of "adjustment to environment," a phrase somewhat vague and perhaps too elastic and indefinite to afford, as yet, much practical guidance. Education aims at far more than adjustment to any environment, since man to so great a degree creates his own environment. Mental Symmetry as a7i End. — Along with the concep- tion of the educational aim as "complete living," it has been much the custom to couple the idea of symmetrical, balanced culture. As in physical education we strive to develop and strengthen the weak and undeveloped muscles and organs so that the system shall be normal and vigor- ous, so in the education of the soul we should strive to rescue it from one-sidedness and abnormality. The developing of all our mental powers into perfect balance, to the end of well-rounded character and the ability to participate in all right and wholesome human experi- ences, is, to say the least, an inspiring aim in education.* We may add here for thoughtful consideration the declaration of John Milton, that a complete education should fit a man "to perform justly, skillfully, and mag- nanimously all the offices both private and public of peace and war." The Objects of a ScJiool — The school is one of the means devised for accomplishing the ends of education — a means only. The objects of a school may be briefly stated as (1) To promote the right development of the pupil. (2) To impart useful knowledge. EDUCATIOIT: ITS NATURE AND END 11 The acquisition of knowledge is an indispensable means in the process of education. There can be no mental development without the exercise of the knowing powers; knowledge has been called "the aliment of the mind." Yet knowledge is not a complete and sufficient end in itself. Contrary to the popular conception, we must place its acquisition as, at most, only the secondary object of school endeavor. The question may further arise as to what knowledge really is useful. And here we must not think only of the material interests of men. That knowledge is most useful, most practical, which helps best to secure the true ends of education, which tends to enlarge and enrich tlie soul-life of the individual, to multiply his interests, and to make him of worth to the community to which he belongs. The writer of this book is fond of stating the end of education, and consequently the object of the school, as increase in personal value. Education makes one truly man, and increases the significance of his life, both to himself and to the world. Summary. — Education is a drawing-out process only in the same sense as is the growth of a plant. Its closest synonym is development. Development implies increase of capacity for work, under- Standing, enjoyment, and service. Education includes instruction, training, and an additional factor which may be called inspiration. Training aims at skill, which involves accuracy, facility, and rapidity of execution. The end of education has been variously stated as complete living, self-realization, character building, increase of personal value, and the evolution of a social individual. The conception of mental symmetry as an end in education lias also had much influence. The objects of a school are primarily, the mental development of the pupil, and, secondarily, the impartation of useful knowledge. CHAPTER III THE TEACHER'S MATERIAL: MIND The Teacher Must Knoiv his Material. — The engineer must be duly advised of the end, or purpose, of the struc- ture which he is commissioned to construct; but he is no engineer if he has not already been made thoroughly con- versant with the general properties and nature of all the materials from which he will have to make selection for his purpose. He must know scientifically, or theoret- ically, the forms of matter which are available. Any ignorance of which he may be guilty, any mistake which he may make here, will appear against him in due time in the form of disaster, ruin, or decay. The teacher, as an architect of character, is no less under the necessity of knowing the material of his art, not empirically and superficially but scientifically, in order that his work may stand the tests of life and time. But his case differs from that of the engineer in that he has no choice of materials; the one material on which he must work is Mind, child mind. And this he must take as it comes to him; he has no choice of quarry and no control over the quarrying. Peculiarity of the Teacher^s Material. — There is yet a further difference between the engineer and teacher in that the one works with dead material, unchangeable except by external attack; while the teacher's material is a living thing, immaterial, a spiritual organism, yet mys- teriously connected with a material body, also a living 12 THE teacher's MATERIAL: MIND 13 organism. This twofold, plastic, living material is there- fore marveloiisly more complex, delicate, and susceptible of irreparable damage than all the materials of the builder's art, and correspondingly more difficult of intelligent com- prehension. Of all those who "rush in where angels fear to tread," the foremost in presnmption would seem to be those who cheerfully essay the work of teaching without any theoretical knowledge of this living material which they hope permanently to transform. What the Teacher Needs to Know. — Every teacher must make a special study of the peculiarities and limitations of the individual minds entrusted to his care. But this study of individual traits, in order to be intelligent and trustworthy, >must be made in the light of an adequate acquaintance with the general truths, or laws, of mind. And this adequate acquaintance does not come by intui- tion nor by mere cursory observation of the actions of children. It is needful, therefore, that the prospective teacher make a somewhat careful, even though elemen- tary, study of the laws of mind as formulated and arranged by the science of Psychology. But as the teacher's material is not pure and unrelated mind, so it is not enough that he should know, as a prep- aration for his work, pure and unrelated psychology. To use a crude figure, Pedagogy walks on at least four feet, and psychology is only one of these. That "the proper study of mankind is man" is truer for the teacher than for anybody else; but "man" is a complex, the successful study of which demands the aid of Physiology, Logic, and Ethics, as well as Psychology. And the teacher's knowl- edge of these sciences of man must not be kept in so many separate compartments, or pigeon-holes. It is per- haps a defect of present-day instruction that we separate the sciences too strictly in our teaching. In the follow- 14 THE THEORY OP TEACHING ing chapters they will be drawn upon somewhat indis- criminately as occasion and mutual helpfulness require, without much regard to division lines. It will be the steady aim in Part II to set forth as clearly and simply as possible the nature of mind and its typical modes of action, assuming that the reader is not entirely ignorant of Physiology, and especially Neurology, the physiology of the nervous system. Part III will deal with the prac- tical application of tlie knowledge presented in Part II to the work of teaching. As Part I deals with the End of Teaching, Parts II and III, respectively, will deal with the Material and the Mechanism of the teacher's art. Summary. — As the engineer or architect must have large theoretical knowledge of his materials, so the teacher must know, scientifically, the material of his art, that his work may stand. The material which the teacher must fashion is mind, a living, spiritual organism, complex, delicate, and susceptible of perma- nent damage. The teacher must study the peculiarities and limitations of each individual pupil, but this must be done in tlie light of the general truths, or laws, of mind and life. This will invohe some acquaint- ance with Physiology, Psychology, I^ogic, and Ethics, these being the four sciences on which scientific pedagogy rests. PART II ELEMENTARY PSYCHOLOGY AND LOGIC CHAPTER IV THE NATURE OF MIND What is Mind? — We may not aspire, at this point, to frame a scientific definition of mind ; but we may clear up our notion of it somewhat by other means. A synonym is not a definition, we should remember; yet synonyms often help us to clearer understanding. Some synonyms, then, for mind are soul^ spirit^ the ego^ the self^ the immaterial part of man. Mind and soul are, in scientific usage, syn- onymous; though in religious parlance the word soul is used to denote a particular aspect or activity of the mind as if it were a distinct entity,, or substance. We assume a distinction, a separateness of nature, between mind and matter; but we know nothing, in fact, of the ultimate nature of either in itself. We know them both only through their manifestations, their observable phenomena. The question of what mind is in itself belongs to philoso- phy rather than to psychology or pedagogy. The question for us, then, is "How does mind act, what can it do?" And the same is true as to matter. What Matter and Mind Do. — What does matter do? Only one thing: it moves. We are to think here not of gross movements simply, like those of falling bodies, but 15 16 THE THEORY OF TEACHING more especially of molecular motion, those infinitesimal and invisible movements with which it is the business of Physics to deal. Matter vibrates. What can mind do? Three things. It is not ponder- able; it does not occupy space; size does not pertain to it. But it is capable of changing its own condition in three modes, or forms. Mind Tcnoios^ feels^ and wills. Knowing^ Feeling^ and Willing. — It is not easy to draw a line between these activities, or to formulate definitions. The soul does not act one side at a time, but as a whole. Every state of the mind is a compound of knowing, feel- ing, and willing ; and we name the state from its predom- inating element. Yet we are better able to think and talk about the mind by distinguishing these different phases of its activity. (1) In lack of satisfactory definitions, we may say, roughly, that Feeling includes those activities of mind which are accompanied by some degree of pleasure or pain. The question has been discussed whether there are any feelings devoid of either pleasure or pain. But it seems natural to regard "neutral" feelings as only those in which there is a very low degree of pleasure or pain. These terms, pleasure and pain, express the value or interest which a given mental state has for us. (2) Knowing is the term apj^lied to the consciousness of difference or resemblance between our mental experiences, and so, by assumption, between the external objects which in any way affect our mental states. The two fundamental operations of Knowing, or Intellect, are (1) Discrimination, or the discernment of difference; and (2) Assimilation (from similis^ like), the discernment of likeness. We shall have further occasion, later on, to consider these fundamental intellectual activities. (3) Will is a term of somewhat various application, but THE NATURE OF MIN^D 17 is always applied to those phases of mental activity con- nected with action^ or the inception of action. Will, in the narrower sense of the word, has been defined as "the soul's poAver of self-direction towards chosen ends." Consciousness. — Consciousness is a very convenient term, which covers all mental operations. Knowing, feel- ing, and willing are all forms or elements of consciousness. When neither pleasure, pain, discrimination, nor tendency to self-directed action are present, we call the condition unconsciousness. The individual consciousness is very complex, composed of many elements, and continually changing, so that we speak, appropriately, of the stream of consciousness. This stream is broken, or interrupted, only by sleep, and by abnormal brain conditions, such as fainting fits. Connection of Mind and Body. — In common thought and speech, we distinguish between mind and body. We speak of the body as "the casket of the soul," "the temple of the spirit," or as the "servant" of the mind. Bnt while recognizing the truth which underhes these expressions, we should not overlook the converse relation, the dependence of the mind on the body. As we shall see in the chapters following, mental activity cannot begin nor develop except through changes in the condition of the nervous system. Our states of mind depend on the changing conditions and states of the body. Mental vigor is more or less dependent on bodily vigor. Mental derangement is traceable to brain disorder, or injuries. The various emotions, as fear, anger, and joy, find their expression in bodily signs; and the energy of our bodily acts depends on the energy of our acts of will. The body is not simply an intermediary between the mind and the external world; there is a close and wonderful interde- pendence between them. The physician needs to know 18 THE THEORY OF TEACHING something of the laws of mind in order to treat properly the disorders of the body ; and the teacher needs a con- siderable knowledge of physiology, especially of the nerv- ous system, that he may deal with the mind intelligently. In the work that follows, we must distinguish clearly at all times between mind and brain, not confusing or interchang- ing them; but, on the other hand, we must recognize the invariable connection of brain activity and mental activity. Psycliolo(j\j. — Psychology is the science of consciousness. Its business is to describe, classify, and explain the vari- ous states and changes of consciousness. As a science, it is still incomplete, and many of its hypotheses are yet matters of speculation and controversy. Hence its full contribution to the science of teaching has not yet been made; but much has been made ont so clearly and estab- lished so firmly that the educator need not hesitate to appropriate it for guidance in his work. It is only these established propositions of psychology which directly con- cern the student in a normal school. The unsolved problems and unverified hypotheses of inchoate science belong only to the university and the specialist. Science deals only with observable facts and phenomena. What- ever is back of these facts and beyond the possibility of observation must be left to philosophy, or metaphysics. Philosophy may concern itself with questions as to the spiritual entity back of our mental activities, that luMcli knows, feels, and wills; but psychology, as a science, must confine itself to these activities themselves. Philos- ophy may deal with the thinker; psychology deals with the thinhing. Summary. — Some synonyms for mind are soul, spirit, the ego, the self, the immaterial part of man. We know nothing of the ultimate nature of either mind or matter, but know them only through their manifestations. THE NATURE OE MIND 19 Matter can do only one thing; it moves, or vibrates. Mind lias tliree phases of activity, feelhig, knowing, and willing. Feeling is characterized by some degree of pleasure or pain. Knowing is the consciousness of difference or resemblance. Willmg is connected with action or tendencies to action. Consciousness is a general term for all possible mental states; it is very complex and continually changing. While we distinguish between mind and body, we must recog- nize their close relation and constant interdependence and the invariable connection of brain activity and mental activity. Psychology is the science of consciousness; it deals only with the observable manifestations of mind. Questions as to the ultimate nature of the soul, and matter as well, belong to philoso- phy, or metaphysics. CHAPTER V HOW KNOWLEDGE BEGINS Whether the acquisition of knowledge be considered a primary or a secondary end in education, the question of the genesis of knowledge, its beginning and sources, is one of importance to the educator. Let us, tlierefore, give some consideration to the mental status of early infancy. Mental Status of the New-Born Bahc. — What does a new-born baby know? Nothing whatever. He is able to perform certain necessary actions without any process of learning how. He breathes, cries, suckles, swallows, clutches, and performs certain crude movements of the limbs without any purpose, or intention — and probably without any definite consciousness, even, of what is taking place among his members. These spontaneous, impulsive movements of legs and arms, wholly beyond the child's control, are of the utmost importance to his development, both physical and mental, furnishing the starting point and preparation by which voluntary, intentional move- ments become possible later on. But they must not be interpreted as furnishing any evidence of mentality at the first outset of life. The Helplessness of Infancy . — It will be useful at this point to give a little consideration to the significance of the helplessness of infancy. The young of the lower animals are born ready-made, so to speak. The progeny of insects, for instance, or even of some reptiles and birds, can do soon after birth almost all that they can ever do in 20 HOW KNOWLEDGE BEGINS 21 the way of supplying their needs. But the human infant is long dependent on the careful service of its parents. It is physically weak and undeveloped; it has, as yet, no knowledge of the world without; it is comparatively bare, of instincts, and has nearly everything to learn. But in this fact that the child is born half-made, help- less, and dependent, lies the whole possibility of education. It is this which makes him an educable, adaptable being. The lower animal is born already adjusted to his environ- ment; if not, he dies promptly. The human infant, which must adjust itself to a very complex environment, and to many environments, has for that reason a long period of gradual development under nurture and discipline. The First Consciousness. — To return to our new-born babe in the cradle, we have here a little machine, wound up to execute those few movements which are most neces- sary to Lis infantile existence and out of which his future powers of action may, under favoring conditions, be evolved. What, then, is the first consciousness of the child? What is the first step out from the mental blank- ness immediately succeeding birth? It seems to be well established that none of the senses are active in the first day or two of life. The babe does not see, though his eyes are open. Several days may pass before any indica- tions can be detected of sensitiveness to light; and mere sensitiveness to light can hardly be called seeing. He does not hear, and is not awakened by noise, being sensi- tive to jarring sooner than to sounds. Which is the first of the senses to awaken? is a question which has received considerable attention. Dr. Preyer, a pioneer investigator, in his very interesting book on "The Senses and the Will," holds that taste is first to manifest its active presence; but later observers have not confirmed his conclusion. It is doubtless true that the first con- 22 THE THEORY OF TEACHIKG sciousness of the child is feeling of too vague and undiffer- entiated a character to he assigned to any one of the special senses. It is prohahly an all-overish feeling of discomfort, or uneasiness, which only gradually and slowly becomes definite and specific. If a pin pricks the babe he does not know what ails him, does not know that he is pricked, still less where. It may be weeks, even, before he sees or hears in any proper sense of those terms. The sense of smell is apparently the last to come into play. The First Intellectual Activity. — The first consciousness which can be thought of as knowing must consist simply in the discernment of difference, or change, in feeling. When a light comes into the room or the clock begins to strike, the babe might say, if he had the language to say anything, *'That is different." Knowledge can go no farther at this stage. Bnt after the same event has occurred a number of times, its recurrence will be recog- nized and the babe might be imagined to say, * 'There it is again." Here, then, in this earliest discrimination or detection of change, is to be found the beginning of knowledge. The means by which this power of discrimi- nation is developed and knowledge is increased must receive fuller consideration hereafter. The Sources of Knoiuledge. — The original sources of knowledge are two, (1) Perception, and (2) Self-conscious- ness. Perception may here be provisionally defined as the power and the act of gaining knowledge of external objects by means of the senses. It has sometimes been asserted that this is the sole source of knowledge. ^' Nihil est in intellectu quod non priiis fuerit in sensu^ there is nothing in the intellect which was not first in the senses," is a maxim enunciated by Comenius 250 years ago, and often reiterated since ; but it can be true only in a very limited HOW KNOWLEDGE BEGINS 23 sense. For instance, how can knowledge of the higher mathematics ever have been "in the senses"? Much of our most important knowledge is reached through reason- ing and reflection. It is only the original data of knowl- edge of which the maxim can be held true; but, properly qualified, it is one which the teacher needs to keep steadily in view. Self-Consciousness as a Source of Knoivledge. — Self- consciousness is also a primary source of knowledge. By this is here meant the consciousness which we have of our own inner states, our emotional and intellectual condi- tions. This has been sometimes denominated as inner perception; but that only leads to confusion of thought, through looseness in the use of the term perception. How does one know that he is, at a. given moment, sad or joyous, angry, or frightened, or fond? Certainly not by any means which can properly be called perception. How is one sure of his personal identity from day to day, not- withstanding the intervals of sleep? Certainly not by looking in the mirror. This consciousness of one's self as a continuous person- ality and as separated from the objective world, external to self, is tardy in arising and slow of growth. Tennyson seems to have divined the truth of this matter in the well- known lines from "In Memoriam": '' The baby new to earth and sky What time his tender pahn is prest Against the circle of the breast Has never thought that this is I; " But as he grows he gathers much And learns the use of ' I ' and ' me ' And finds I am not what I see And other than the things I touch. 24 THE THEORY OF TEACHING " So rounds he to a separate mind From whence clear memory may begin, As through the frame that binds him in His isolation grows defined." Summary. — The new-born babe knows nothing, but performs certain necessary actions automatically. His first consciousness is doubtless a vague, indefinite feeling of discomfort, or uneasiness. The senses of sight and hearing are not awake in the first day or two of life. The first beginning of knowledge is found in the consciousness of difference, or change, in states of feeling. The young of insects and lower animals are born ready-made, but the human infant experiences a long period of incompleteness and helplessness, which is the ground of his adaptability and capac- ity for education. The original sources of knowledge are two, perception and self- consciousness. These furnish the original data from which other knowledge is elaborated. CHAPTER VI THE NERVOUS MECHANISM Sensation the Starting Point of Consciousness — The simplest forms of consciousness, taken coUectiveiy, go by the name of Sensation. Common speech as well as scien- tific thought recognizes sensation as the starting point and foundation of all mental experience. In itself, sen- sation is simple feeling, feeling having an external, phys- ical origin; but it also furnishes the starting point for knowledge. It has a cognitive aspect. It is needful, therefore, to give some consideration to the physical ante- cedents of sensation, which are found i?i the functional processes of the nervous system. The Physical Basis of Sensation. — The physical basis of sensation is found in the irritability and conductivity of certain tissues of the body known as nerve tissues and organized into an apparatus known as the Nervous Sys- tem. There are in fact two of these systems, but we are here chiefly interested in that known as the Cerebro-spinal system. With the so-called Sympathetic system we need not here concern ourselves, however important it may be in the vital economy. Kerve tissue is of two kinds, the so-called white and gray matter, the nature and relation of which will be touched upon later. The principal parts of the cerebro- spinal system are the brain, the spinal cord, and the nerves, which last radiate in pairs from the spinal cord at different levels, or from the lower parts of the brain, as in the case of the cranial nerves. 25 26 THE THEORY OF TEACHIJSTG Tlie Brain. — We may speak first, in a general way, of the brain, which is the mass of nerve tissue, along with connective and other tissues, occupying the whole inner space of the skull. It is the most highly organized and complex part of the body, and the most completely removed from direct observation. It comprises several Fig. 1. Vertical Section of the Brain. A, frontal lobe ol the cerebrum; B, parietal lobe; D, occipital lobe; E, cer- ebellum; H. pons Varolii; K, medulla oblongata. The white curved band above H is the corpus callosum. {From BlaisdeU's Physiology.) distinct but closely related parts, or organs. These are (1) The Cerebrum, or cerebral hemispheres, occupying the upper and forward part of the cranial cavity. The two hemispheres are separated by a deep furrow, or suture, but are connected by a large band of transverse white fibers, known as the corpus callosuin. The outer Ig^er of the cerebrum, composed of gray matter, is called the cortex, or cortical layer, and contains the active elements of the brain, the cell bodies of the cerebral neurones. The THE NERVOUS MECHANISM /J7 cortex is grooved and wrinkled with many furrows and folds, called convolutions, which give it a large exterior surface. The central part of the hemispheres is filled with the white matter, an interlacing mass of the so-called association fibers^ which connect all parts of the cortex with other parts. (2) Below and back of the cerebrum is the Cerebellum, or "little brain," which is supposed to have as its function the control of coordinated muscular movements, as in walking. (3) Next to this, is the Medulla Oblongata, or Bulb, a knob-like body forming the upper terminus of the spinal cord. It connects the spinal cord with the brain and is the great railway junction, so to speak, of. the nervous system. It also contains many centers of reflex action, both of the cranial nerves and of the sympathetic system, thus controlling the automatic movements of the vital organs. . (4) Other smaller bodies, such as the pons Varolii, optic thalami, corpora striata, and corpora quadrigemina, whose functions are more or less conjectural, are packed away under the base of tlio cerebrum and about the medulla. The brain, thus composed, is the great central organ of the nervous system, with which all parts of the body are connected by the spinal cord and the nerves. Nerves. — The term "nerve" is somewhat indefinite, or ambiguous, in its present use, It is sometimes used as synonymous with nerve trunk, and sometimes with nerve fiber. In its simplest type, or plan, a nerve consists of a fine thread, or filament, of the gray matter, known as the axis cylinder^ and connected at one end with a nerve cell from which it originates. This axis cylinder, or nerve fiber, is, in iLOst cases, encased for the greater part of its length by a sheath composed of a white, fatty substance 28 THE THEORY OF TEACHING and Known as the medullary sheath. This, again, is surrounded by a delicate membranous case called the neurilemma, or epineurium. The purpose of this double sheath is supposed to be partly lor protection to the enclosed fiber and partly for insulation, to prevent waste of nervous energy and confusion of nerve currents, in a manner analogous to the insulation of telephone and electric light wires. Not all nerve fibers, however, acquire the medullary sheath. Those which do are called medul- lated fibers and constitute what is called the white matter of the spinal cord and the brain. The so-called gray matter consists of cell bodies and non-medullated fibers. Strictly speaking, the white matter has no conduct] )e function except as it is threaded by the gray matter cf the axis cylinders. Fig. 2. Cross Section of Part of the Median Nerve. Nerve trunks, also called nerves, are bundles of these nerve fibers, which divide or branch into smaller and smaller bundles as they recede from the brain or spinal cord toward the peripheral regions of the body. Each nerve trunk, whether the main trunk or a branch thereof, has its own encasing sheath and is subdivided by thin THE KEKVOUS MECHANISM 29 walls of connective tissue which separate the smaller bundles. Thirty-one pairs of these nerve trunks, or nerves, depart from the spinal cord at various levels, and twelve pairs of cranial nerves branch off from the lower parts of the brain. Tlie Sjyinal Cord. — The spinal cord is a column of nervous and other tissues occupying the spinal canal, or tube which perforates the vertebra. In the adult, its average length is about eighteen inches and its diameter about three-fourths of an inch. It terminates in a sort of whisk or bunch of nerve roots, knoAvn as the can da equina^ or "horse's tail." The cord is the great nerve trunk of the system, and contains a vast number of nerve fibers, both motor and sensory, with many nerve cells, all these being closely packed with connective tissue and other substances. All the nerve fibers of the thirty-one pairs of spinal nerves conduct upward by various connections to the brain. The spinal cord is thus the great, main high- way by which communication is maintained between the cortex and the remotest parts of the torso and limbs of the body. Summary. — The starting point of consciousness is found in sensation, which has its physical basis in the irritabiblty and con- ductivity of nerve tissues organized in the cerebro-spinal system. The chief organ in tliis S5^stem is the brain, which comprises the cerebrum, the cerebellum, and the medulla. The cerebrum is composed of two hemispheres, complementary to each other; its outer rind or layer of gray matter is called the cortex and contains the active elements of the brain, the cerebral neurones. The cerebellum has for its function the regulation and co- ordination of muscular movements. The medulla controls the automatic actions of the vital organs. Nerves are the conducting organs of the system; they are com- posed of fine filaments, or fibers, called axis cylinders, each sur- rounded, in most cases, by a white sheath. Each nerve, or nerve 30 THE THEORY OP TEACHING trunk, is a bundle composed of smaller bundles of nerve fibers and branching or dividing as it recedes from the spinal axis. The spinal cord is a column of nerve tissues within the vertebral canal; from it thirty-one pairs of nerves branch off and ramify to all parts of the body. It contains large numbers of nerve cells and their connecting fibers, forming the great nervous pathway between the brain and the remoter parts of the body and com- prising the centers of reflex action. CHAPTER VII THE NERVOUS MECHANISM— CONTINUED Elements of the Nervous Mechanism. — As a working apparatus, the nervous system may be analyzed into three kinds of structures or organs, viz.. Nerve Centers, Nerves, and Nerve Ends, or End Organs. The nerve fibers, whose structure has already been considered, are organs of transmission, connecting the nerve ends with nerve centers. They are of two kinds, (1) Sensory, or incarry- ing, nerves, which transmit energy from the nerve ends to the centers, and (2) Motor nerves, which extend from the nerve centers into all the muscles. In their transmission of nerve energy, the sensory nerves may be thought of as centripetal; the motor nerves, as centrifugal. We must pass now to consider the source of that nerve energy for whose transmission the nerves exist. Nerve Centers, — Nerve centers are groups, or masses, of nerve cells and fibers which form a meeting point for sensory and motor nerves. The functions of nerve cen- ters are (1) Wiq generation^ (2) the storing uj)^ and (3) the discharge of nervous energy. They might be compared, roughly, with the batteries of a telegraph system, the nerves corresponding to the wires, with this difference, that a telegraph wire conducts force in either direction, while a nerve conducts it in one direction only. Nervous energy has sometimes been thought to beidentical with electricity, which it much resembles in some of its mani- festations ; but it is found only in connection with nervous tissues. 31 32 THE THEORY OF TEACHING The brain may be considered as a great aggregation of nerve centers variously related and connected with one another, as well as with the remoter parts of the nervous system. The nerve centers of the cerebrum are spoken of as the higher centers. Other centers, or ganglia, as they are sometimes called, are found at the base of the brain and along the spinal cord. These are called the loiver centers. These lower centers differ somcAvhat in function from those in the cerebrum, a difference which will be considered in the next chapter. To repeat, it is the business of all nerve centers to gen- erate and store np energy ready for discharge upon the motor nerves at the proper signal from the sensory nerves. We must now consider the nature of that signal. Nerve Ends. — The nerve ends of the sensory nerves are distributed throughout the outer or peripheral parts of the body, including the linings of the digestive and other cavities. They are very minute in size and various in form, but may be crudely thought of as terminal expan- sions not unlike the leaves of a tree or the head of a pin. The immense number of nerve ends lodged in the skin vary greatly in form and special function, and some of them, as the Pacinian corpuscles, are exceedingly complex in structure. The general function of all these end organs is (1) that of trritaMUti/y the reception of irritation, or response to stimuli, and (2) the commnnication of this irritation or excitement to the nerves^ by which it is trans- mitted, or propagated, along the nerve fibers to the nerve center. In the case of some of the cranial nerves, all the nerve ends of all the separate nerve filaments are gathered up and organized into a sense organ, as the eye and the ear. The Stimulation of Nerve Ends. — The physical stimuli capable of exciting nerve action are various in nature, and the nerve ends are of various structure and susceptibility, THE NERVOUS MECHANISM 33 to correspond with the several forms of stimuli. Thus the nerve ends in the eye, which respond only to light- waves, and those of the ear, which respond only to sound- waves, are very different from those in the skin, which respond, according to their respective natures, to changes of contact or of temperature. But, whatever the form or kind of stimulus, the resulting excitement or "current" is doubtless some form of molecular motion or vibration which is communicated successively to the molecules of the nerve fiber, something as in the case of a row of bricks set upon end at intervals, or a row of suspended balls, when force is applied to one end of the row. Each ball or brick communicates its motion to the next, and a wave of change runs down the line. The Discharge of Nerve Centers. — The relation of nerve centers to the rest of the mechanism may be illustrated by comparison with the process of blasting with gunpowder. The potential energy of the nerve center corresponds to the charge of powder, the nerve corresponds to the fuse, and the nerve end to a match-head attached to the end of the fuse. Scratch the match-head and the ignition causes a sputter of combustion to pass along the fuse and dis- charge the blast — only the rate of transmission is iutiuitely more rapid in the nerve fibers. The entrance of this molecular v/ave, or excitation, into the nerve center has the effect, if sufficient in strength, of discharging some of its stored up energy, which gives rise to another wave, or excitation, in the motor nerves connected with that center. This motor current, upon reaching its destination, in some muscle, produces con- traction of muscular fibers, and a bodily movement results. The precise character of the end-plates of the motor nerves and the method by which they excite the contrac- tility of the muscular fibers are, as yet, rather obscure. 34 THE THEORY OF TEACHING Neurones. — Having taken this general view of the nervous mechanism, it will be useful to go a little more minutely into the details of nerve structure, a step which we are now better prepared to take. The unitary elements of both the higher and lower centers are known as neurones. A neurone consists, pri- marily, of a cell body composed of a granu- lar substance called protoplasm, enclosing a small, clearer por- tion known as the nu- cleus. These cell bodies are very irregu- lar and various inform, those of the brain be- ing largely of the form known as pyramidal cells. They have each a number of proc- esses, or projections, which are the start- ing points of fibers or filaments of various lengths. These are of two kinds, (1) the axone, a fiber having the qual- ity of conductivity and becoming what we have called the axis cylinder of a simple nerve, or nerve fiber; (2) the Pyramidal Cell of Human , , i • i t • i Cerebral Cortex. dendrons, whlchdlYlde Fig. 3. THE NERVOUS MECHANISM 35 into finer branches or rootlets, called dendrites. Their functions are some- what uncertain, including possibly that of nutrition in the service of the cell body, but probably that of conductiv- ity also. Axones. — The axones have a branch- ing structure and vary greatly in length, from a fraction of an inch up to two or three feet, according to location and use. They often branch greatly, throw- ing off side branches called laterals, which branch again in turn. They usually terminate in little tufts resem- bling the fingers of a hand, or the root- lets of a plant, and known as the arborization oi the axone. The arbori- zation of one axone may, in appearance, clasp or encompass the cell body of an- other neurone, or the arborization of one axone may interlace with the den- drites of another, and thus effect com- munication with it by a process thought to be similar to that of electrical in- duction. The arborized connections between neurones are numerous in the spinal cord and medulla, and seem to obviate the necessity for axones of greater length, while furnishing a greater diversity of paths between va- rious parts of the brain and the outly- ing members of the body. Neurones are anatomically separate, do not pen- etrate one another, but communicate ^^ S.C s. M Fig. 4. Diagram of an Element of the Motor Path. C. C, cell of cerebral cor- tex. S. C. , cell of spinal cord. M., the muscle. S., path from sensory- nerve roots. 36 THE THEORY OF TEACHIN^G force something like a row of men clasping hands with one another. The cortical layer of the brain is largely composed of cell bodies, from which axones extend inwardly in all directions. The axones of the motor cells descend to various levels in the spinal cord, where they arborize with neurones whose axones pass out in the nerve trunks which depart from the spinal column. Cell bodies in the lower spinal ganglia, for example, have sensory fibers which extend to the extremities, as the toes, and bring up impulses from the nerve ends of Fig. 5. Principal Types of Cells in the Cerebral Cortex. A, medium-sized pyramidal cell of the second layer. B, large pyramidal cell of the third layer. C, polymorphous cell of the fourth layer. D, cell of which the axone is ascending. E, neuroglia cell. G, sensory fiber from the white niatter, H, white matter. THE NERVOUS MECHANISM 37 those members, while other fibers or branches extend up- wards to the medulla, where they arborize with neurones whose axones reach the cortex. Such a cell might be com- pared, crudely, to a little man, or gnome, reaching down with one long arm to gather impulses while the other arm reaches up to clasp hands with a second man farther up the line, and thus pass along the grip received by the hand below. The cells of the cortex, on their part, have axones extending downwards to the lumbar enlargement of the spinal cord and then arborizing with neurones whose fibers pass out in the spinal nerve trunks to the remoter parts of the body. Summary. — ^The nervous mechanism includes nerve centers, nerves, and nerve ends. Nerve centers are groups of nerve cells whose function is to generate, store up, and discharge nervous energy. The brain is an aggregation of nerve centers known as the higher centers, the lower centers being found in the medulla and spinal cord. Nerve ends are terminal expansions or modifications of nerve fibers whose function is irritability under external stimulus. DifTerent forms of nerve ends respond to special forms of stimulus, as dilTerent rates of vibration. The nerves are organs of transmission between the nerve ends and nerve centers. The discharge of nerve centers excites cur- rents in the motor nerves which result in muscular contractions. The unitary elements of the nervous system are called neurones, and consist of a cell body, from which proceed branching fibers known as axones and dendrons. These fibers terminate in clusters of rootlets known as arborizations, which form the immediate means of communication between neurones. CHAPTER VIII REFLEX ACTION The Nerve Circuit. — AVe are now prepared to under- stand, measurably, the movements of the new-born babe, as touched upon in Chapter V. In the last paragraph (Chapter VII) we have made an introductory acquaintance with what is known as the Xervous Arc, or nerve circuit, or, in other words, the full course of the nervous current excited by an external stimulation. The nerve end is excited by some vibratory or chemical stimulus; a vibra- tion or change of some sort is propagated along the sensory nerve ; a nerve center is discharged ; a current is thus sent down the motor nerve to some muscle, and motion results. Reflex Action, — 'By a not altogether happy figure of speech, the motor current, in certain cases, is represented as thrown back, or reflected, from the nerve center, and the resulting movement is called Eeflex Action. This term is usually applied, however, only to those cases in which the movement is effected by the discharge of one or more of the lower centers, the cerebrum not beino^ necessarily involved. Many experiments showing this independence of cerebral control in reflex movement have been made in laboratories by the use of frogs and other animals of low order. The cerebral hemispheres are removed and the frog suspended by his lip. If then a brush or pencil be dipped in strong acid and touched to his side, causing an imtation, the foot on that 38 REPLEX ACTIOiT , 39 side will be raised to scratch away the irritant. If the foot be restrained by any means, the other foot will then attempt to remove the offending agent. If the body of a milhped or "thousand-legged worm" be cut in segments, each segment will continue to travel for a time, till its vitality is exhausted. The brains of pigeons may be removed, and the birds will still respond to proper stimu- lation with appropriate movements, all void of intelli- gence. Nerve Cells connected by Interlacing Nerve Network Afferent Nerve Fiber // U Efferent Nerve Fib« Sensory ^TV^W ^^3 Muscle Epithelium Fig. 6. Diagram of Reflex Action. {From Colton's Physiology.) Reflex Action in Man. — In human experience, reflex action may be illustrated by tickling the bare foot of a sleeping boy. If this be done without awakening him, the first result may be a simple withdrawal of the foot. If the stimulation be increased, the central discharge may become more vigorous, and he will kick out. These movements will involve the discharge only of a center in the lower part of the spinal cord. If the irritation of the 40 THE THEORY OF TEACHING nerve ends in the foot be still further increased, the ingoing current may reach a center in the upper part of the cord, controlling arm moyements, and the boy, still sleeping, may strike out with his arms. It is possible, even, that parts of the brain may be roused to action and groans or other vocal results may follow, the boy still remaining unconscious. Sneezing, coughing, winking, swallowing, jumping or crying out when suddenly startled, as by the report of a fire-cracker or the slamming of a door, are familiar examples of reflex action. Common MisconccjHions. — It is a very common error to assume that all reflex action is unconscious. We are, in most cases, conscious of the act after or during its per- formance, as in jumping at a sudden noise. But we are often, also, conscious of the reflex action before it begins. In the case of coughing, for instance, Ave are usually fore- warned and strive to prevent or suppress the action, but in vain. The irritation is so efficient that the action goes on to its natural termination in spite of our inhibiting efl'ort. Another error consists in supposing that reflex action excludes all activity or participation of the brain. In the case of winking, the action is usually purely reflex, and yet it can have no relation to the spinal cord. Some part of the brain must make the reflex response to the irritation of the eyeball. The essential characteristics of reflex action are two; it must (1) be externally stimulated by some physical cause; and (2) it must not be intentional, or purposely done. Keflex action is only one form, but the typical form, of involuntary action. Its nature may be summed up as follows: Eeflex action must be externally stimulated, may he unconscious, may or may not involve some part of the brain, but must he without intention, or the mandate REFLEX ACTION 41 of the will. The act of walking, so often given as an example of reflex action, is not truly such, but only sec- ondarily automatic. Spontaneous^ or Impulsive Action. — It may be noted that some of the movements of earliest infancy, as the aimless movements of arms and legs, kicking and squirm- ing, do not answer to the above definition of reflex action, because not externally stimulated. They must, neverthe- less, be produced by the discharge of nerve centers, orig- inating motor currents. The same is true of the involun- tary movements accompanying chorea, or "St. Vitus's dance." We infer, therefore, that they are due to weak- ness of the nerve centers, resulting in "leakage," or premature discharge. The same explanation may perhaps be made of the fidgeting and twiddling of hands and feet so often observable in "nervous" persons. These move- ments of the infant are called Spontaneous, or Impulsive movements, in distinction from reflex movements in the stricter sense of the term. Summary. — The mgoing current set up by the stimulation of a nerve end may set up a motor current from one of the lower centers, resulting in muscular movements without mental control, and known as reflex action. These reflex movements are alwaj^s externally stimulated; they may or may not be unconscious, but are wholly witliout intention or control of the will. Those reflex actions involving activity of the cranial nerves center in the basal parts of the brain; those due to stimulation of the spinal nerves involve no activity of the brain, but are con- trolled by centers in the spinal cord. Spontaneous, or impulsive actions, as in the aimless movements of infancy, are not externally stimulated, but are due to weakness or "leakage" of nerve centers. The semi-conscious movements of walking are not truly reflex, but only secondarily automatic. CHAPTER IX SENSATION Sensation. — When the nerve current set up by exter- nal stimulation passes the lower centers without being ** reflected" and, reaching some part of the brain, affects it with sufficient force, there follows a mental result or feeling which is called Sensation. This result is too simple and elementary to admit of satisfactory definition; but we may say that Sensation is tlie first and simplest 7nental result of the stimulation of an incarrying nerve. It may or may not be followed by muscular action; but it is invariably accompanied by other mental activities, the consideration of which may be deferred for the present. The Conditions of Sensation. — The necessary conditions of sensation are (1) a physical stimulus acting upon the nerve ends, (2) a physiological process involving changes in the nerve ends, the connecting nerves, and the brain, (3) the rousing of the mind to consciousness. Between the first two of these, we trace a direct and comprehensible connection; but between the last two, brain and mind, the connection is involved in mystery. Just ^l0^v activity of the brain can bring about activity of the mind is a question which Psychology cannot answer, and Philosophy wrestles with in vain. But the uniform connection or concomitance between brain stimulation and sensation is a fact which admits of no question. Emphasis must be laid, at this point, upon the fact that sensation is a mental and not a physical fact. Sensations are in the mind and 42 SENSATION . 43 not in the various parts of the body. One says that he has a pain in his toe, and so it surely seems to the unso- phisticated person ; but that is purely a matter of associa- tion. The nerve ends are in the toe, but the pain is in the mind only. We must also carefully refrain from speaking of . sensa- tions as traveling or being "carried" from the periphery to the brain. Sensations cannot travel. Nerve currents pass from periphery to center; but sensations, never. We need, therefore, to distinguish between sensations, which are psychical, and nerve-impressions, which are physical. They may be thought of as having their point of contact in the cerebrum. Tlie Threshold of Sensation. — The stimulation of a sen- sory nerve may be inadequate and the resulting brain event too weak to produce a result in consciousness. Doubtless many stimuli are acting on our nervous system all the tim3 of which, for various reasons, we are not conscious. The brain change must havo a sufficient degree of vigor in order that sensation may follow. The mind seems to have a sort of inertia which must be overcome ; and the level at which stimulation begins to affect consciousness has been denominated the Threshold of Sensation. Many stimuli are unable to cross this threshold, and yet they may collectively produce important effects upon our moods or general conditions of mind. This is especially true of nerve currents arising in the visceral organs. The threshold of sensation is very variable, being widely differ- ent in different persons or in the same person at different times. It is, for instance, much higher, or more difficult to cross, under conditions of extreme fatigue. Quantity and Quality of Sensations. — Sensations differ greatly among themselves both in Quantity and Quality. In point of quantity, they may differ in intensity or 44 THE TEIEORY OF TEACHING extensity. Intensity of sensation may be illustrated by the case of a deep pin-prick or a drop of boiling water on the skin; extensity, by the feeling arising from putting one's whole arm under water. The snap of an electric spark is intense; the rumble of thunder creates a feeling of extent. In either case, differences in quantity of sen- sation are due only to the force of the stimulus. Differ- ences in quality, as the difference between sensations of sight and taste, are due primarily to differences in the structure and susceptibility of the nerve ends, or sense organs, which enable them to respond to specific stimuli only. Thus the nerve ends of the eye respond only to the stimulation of ether- waves with certain degrees of rapidity in vibration, while the nerve ends of smell respond only to the contact of certain substances in the gaseous form. These differences in the sense organs and their susceptibility to specific stimuli lead to the classifi- cation of sensations into several groups, on that basis, and give rise to the familiar term, the Senses. Tlie Senses. — What is a Sense? A sense is not an organ or group of nerve-ends, but a power of the mind. A sense is the mind's power to receive impressions of the outer world by means of a particular set of nerves, or part of the nervous system. For example, the sense of smell is the mind's power to be impressed through the agency of the olfactory nerves and their special connections in the brain. The senses may be separated for study into two groups, General and Special. The Special senses are those whose end organs are highly specialized in structure and func- tion, being thus responsive to one peculiar kind of stimu- lus. What are usually known as the Five Senses, viz., Touch, Taste, Smell, Sight, and Hearing, belong to this group. To this list, however, we must add the Muscular SENSATION 45 •Sense, at least, which was formerly, not discriminated from Touch. The so-called General Sensibility includes all those sensations which arise in the bodily organism at large, and especially in the various tissues of the body, without definitely specialized end organs. The pleasure and pain quality, or tone, is especially prominent in con- nection with these sensations, which are often grouped together under the name of the Organic Sense. The senses, again, may be arranged in two groups with reference to the service which they render, one group being devoted chiefly to the service of the body, through the indications which they convey of its conditions; the other serving, chiefly, the ends of the mind. These are the knowledge-giving senses, and thus are given higher rank, though no more vitally necessary than the body- serving senses. Summary. — Sensation is the first mental result of the stimvila- tion of an incarrying nerve. Its necessary conditions are (1) a physical stimulus, (2) a physiological stimulus reaching the brain, and (3) the conscious reaction of the mind. Sensations exist only in the mind, and are not "carried"; nerve impulses "travel." The level at which nerve stimulation begins to affect conscious- ness is called the threshold of sensation; it differs under different conditions and in different persons. Sensations differ in quantity and quality. Differences in quan- tity are due to the intensity or extensity of the stimulus; differ- ences m quality are due to differences in the end organs and in the specific stimuli to which they respond. A sense is the mind's power to receive knowledge of the outer world by means of some particular set of nerves. The senses are grouped as general and special; they may also be classified as those which serve the body and those which give knowledge in greater measure. CHAPTER X THE BODY-SERVING SENSES Organic Sensations. — The Organic Sense comprises all those sensations which arise from disturbed or changing states of the various organs of the body, and which fur- nish indications of the condition of those organs. They include sensations arising from the alimentary tract, as hu7iger, thirst, nausea, and the feeling of repletion; those from the respiratory system, as the feeling of '' closeness,^ ^ suffocation; those arising from destruction of tissue or diseased conditions, as headache, toothache, rheumatic twinges, and all the category of bodily aches and hurts, including fatigue. Here, also, we place those undefined, systemic feelings whose presence one indicates by saying that he "feels first-rate" or feels "dull," "dumpish," or "out of tune." A general characteristic of all the organic sensations, along with their pleasure-and-pain quality, is their indefiniteness. The difficulty of locating their physical source is illustrated in the case of persons who have had the wrong tootn pulled throug'h incorrect response to the dentist's questions, and also in the famil- iar difficulty of locating the exact spot of a dull rheumatic pain. The man who was "so thin that he could not te.l a back- ache from a stomach-ache" need not have been diaphanous by any means. The utility of these sensations is evident as indexes of our physical conditions, the soundness of our tissues and organs, and our bodily needs. The painful tone so often 46 THE BODY-SERVING SENSES 47 characteristic of these sensations is the needed whip to compel attention to our physical dangers and necessities, to send ns to the dentist or hold ns back from excesses and imprudence. The organic sense is the health officer of our bodies. The Thermal Sense. — Next to the organic sense in its generality, is the Thermal, or Temperature Sense, yielding the sensations of heat and cold. This sense was formerly not distinguished from that of touch, for the reason that its nerve ends are distributed through the skin. But experimentation finally established the fact that these sensations arise from the excitation of separate nerve ends devoted to this purpose. Some of these are susceptible only to contacts of relatively high temperature, and are known as heat spots; others only to contacts of low tem- perature, and are known as cold spots. These are closely interspersed throughout the skin, but may be located by the use of a metal pencil or needle. If this, when heated, be touched to a '*cold spot," only the sensation of contact will be felt; the same will be true if a cold point touches a "heat spot." It should be remembered that "heat and cold are only skin deep." The temperature of the blood, and consequently of the flesh, does not vary greatly with the changes of atmospheric temperature. The tempera- ture of the blood is confined within the range from 95° to 106° Fahrenheit, the normal temperature being from 97° to 98.5°, Sydney Smith, on a hot day, wished to "take off his flesh and sit in his bones. " It would have answered as well to take off his skin only. The Sense of Taste. — Next in the service of the body, may be named the Sense of Taste. Its end organs are found in the little projections, or papillae, which give roughness to the surface of the tongue, and which enclose minute structures known as taste buds. As the nerve- 48 THE THEORY OF TEACHING ends are buried within these taste buds, they can be reached and stimulated only by soluble substances, which must first be reduced to liquid form. These liquids then penetrate the outer covering of the papillae and in some way, probably by chemical changes, aft'ect the ends of the gustatory nerve. It will thus be seen that in drinking a glass of lemonade we actually taste only so much of it as soaks into the taste bnds. This gives us the philosophy of using a straw in drinking such beverages. The principal sensations of taste are four, sweety sour, salt, and hitter. These may be called the "cardinal points" of taste. Besides these and their combinations, which constitute the true tastes, other sensations, which have been called "mechanical effects," are connected with contacts on the tongue. Among these are the sensations called '''2)uckery^^ and ^'hot,''^ such as those produced by pepper, alcohol, tobacco, tannin, etc. Alum, for instance, has a true taste (sour) ; but this is soon overpowered by the mechanical effect of "puckering." Ripe choke-cherries are sweet to the taste, but one has short space to realize that before the intense "puckering" sensation follows. The root of Indian turnip (Jack in the Pulpit) produces an intense prickling sensation. All these "mechanical effects" belong really to the class of organic sensations. The tongue is also an organ of touch, the tip of the tongue being more sensitive to contacts than any other surface of the body. Smell . — The Sense of Smell has its end-organs in two small patches of mucous membrane hidden away in the upper cavities of the nose, called the nares. In these, are distributed the ends of the olfactory nerves. They are reached only by substances in the gaseous form or so finely powdered as to float in the atmosphere. These nerve ends are extremely sensitive and may be stimulated by incon- THE BODY-SERVING SENSES 49 It has been calculated ro-ffoooooo- of a grain of musk can be distinctly ceivably small portions of matter. that -foff-Qo smelled ; and a substance called mercaptan can be smelled in still more minute quantities. Olfactory Bulb Olfactory Nerves Turbinated Bones Fig. 7. The Organ of Smell. {From Colto7i's Physiology.) The true smells, or odors, are many in number, but have no definite names like those of the true tastes. They are commonly classified only as agreeable and disagreeable. A certain group of smells are called aromatic, but there are few smell words of definite signification. Connected with the organ of smell, are also a number of mechanical effects, without, however, much well-defined difference in the mental result. Ammonia, camphor, the volatile juices of certain vegetables, as horse-radish and onions, when in contact with the mucous membrane of the nares, produce sneezing and even more vigorous effects, like strangling. Similar results follow the contact of pungent powders floating in the air, as snuff, pepper, and even dust. But these results are quite distinct from sensations of smell. The same is probably true of the effects pro- duced by the air of a "close" room. 60 THE THEORY OF TEACHING Confusion of Taste and Smell. — The confusion of taste and smell is a very common experience. Many substances, as fruits and cake or confectionery containing certain "flavoring extracts," as vanilla, peppermint, etc., when taken into the mouth and subjected to its heat and moisture and the process of chewing, give off vapors which rise from the pharynx into the upper cavities of the nose and produce sensations of smell. These, occur- ring in such close connection with real sensations of taste, are not discriminated from them, and all go in as "taste." The so-called cooking extracts have no true tastes, bat only their respective odors and certain mechanical effects due to the alcohol which they contain. The taste of onions is sweetish, where any exists; their chief charac- teristic, even in the mouth, being their odor and the "strong" mechanical effect. If the nasal passages be properly obstructed, one cannot distinguish by taste alone peppermint or wintergreen lozenges from each other or from those without any "flavoring" element. Uses of Taste and Smell. — Taste and smell are the "sentinels of the stomach." While affording some knowledge of the properties of substances, it is yet chiefly those properties which are of importance to our internal economy. Comparatively, smell is of the greater impor- tance, not only because it reaches farther, is affected by more distant objects, but also because it more effectively warns us of dangerous properties or conditions, as of smoke, injurious gases, and foods or other substances in a state of decomposition. It must not be overlooked, however, that an important function of these senses is pleasure-giving. The delights of the table, our enjoyment of fruits and sweets, is paralleled by our pleasure in the perfumes of flowers. Of course, this is partly counterbalanced by the suffering to THE BODY-SERVING SENSES 51 which ill-smelling substances subject us. It may'there- fore be remarked that the body-serving senses affect, more or less, the emotional side of our mental life. And as we rise in the series from the organic sensations to smell, this emotional result becomes more refined and more capable of intellectual discrimination. Summary. — The senses especially devoted to self-preservation and the service of the body are the organic sense, the thermal sense, taste, and smell. The organic sense comprises sensations arising from the ali- mentary tract and various other organs, including the pains of disease. They are characterized by indefiniteness, along with their pleasure-and-pain quality. The thermal, or temperature, sense is distinguished from touch by its use of a distinct set of nerve ends known as heat and cold spots. The sensations of true taste are sweet, bitter, sour, and salt; but certam organic sensations, or mechanical effects, arise in the covering of the tongue, as ''puckery" and "burning." Sensations of smell, or odors, are many, but lack distinctive names; they also are closely related, locally, to certain mechanical effects, as sneezing, produced by pungent vapors and powders. The confusion of taste and smell is a common experience, as in the eating of many fruits and in the use of flavoring extracts. Taste and smell are the sentinels of the stomach, but also have an important function as sources of pleasure and pain. CHAPTER XI THE KNOWLEDGE-GIVING SENSES The Muscular Sense. — The most fundamental of the knowledge-giving senses is that known as the Muscular Sense. This and the Sense of Touch are so intimately related that they were formerly not discriminated; and some eminent psychologists attempt, even now, to dis- pense with or explain away the muscular sense. It seems clearly entitled, however, to a distinct name and treatment. The principal forms of muscular sensation are those of movement and resistance. Both measure, in a way, the amount of muscular energy which is being expended at a given instant, as in the "hefting" of bodies. The sensations of effort and movement are, nevertheless, quite other than the act of muscular con- traction; they are me7ital. We are able, without the aid of other senses, to discern the fact of muscular movement, its direction and distance. We are, in like manner, able to discriminate the amount of nervous energy put forth to overcome resistance, whether it be in the form of weight, where the force of gravity must be actively resisted, or in that of hardness^ rigidity^ etc., where our effort is passively resisted by material objects. Cooper- ating with this consciousness of muscular strain are also, no doubt, feelings resulting from the friction of the joints and of moving muscles under the skin; but these are secondary. The sensations of fatigue are not to be classified under 52 THE KNOWLEDGE-GIVING SENSES 53 this sense, from the fact that they are due to disintegra- tion of tissue, overloading the blood with waste matter, and not to the present tension of nerves or muscles. Ideas Derived from Muscidar Sensations. — It is by these distinctions of nervous strain that we first discern the position of external bodies with reference to ourselves and learn the fundamental properties of matter. The infant reaches for the moon as readily as for the watch dangled before his eyes; but by experiment, both through failure and success, he learns in due time what distance and direction mean in terms of muscular effort. It seems very possible that the first infantile consciousness is, after all^ the consciousness of resistance, of obstructed muscular effort. Through these various muscular sensations, arise ideas of motion, extension, weight, hardness, rigidity, distance, and direction. The muscular sense is thus of great importance to our mental life, giving us the original data for our knowledge of spatial relations and the fundamental propei'ties of matter, the foundation, in short, for our knowledge of geometry and physics. As the organic sense is of primary importance to the body, the indispensable means of its preservation and welfare, so the muscular sense is funda- mental to our acquaintance with the external world. THE SENSE OF TOUCH The Sense of Touch has its end organs distributed throughout the several layers of the skin, including the lining of the mouth and the covering of the tongue. These are of several different forms, namely, (1) Touch cells, (2) Pacinian corpuscles, (3) Tactile corpuscles, (4) End bulbs. Some of these are quite complicated in structure, as may be seen from the accompanying illus- tration. 54 THE THEORY OF TEACHING jaF! Fig. 8. Section of a Papilla of the Skin, Showing a Touch Corpuscle. These end organs are more sensitive or more numerous in certain parts of the skin than others. The finger tips, the tip of the tongue, and the edges of the lips are the most sensitive parts. The sensitiveness of the finger tips, es- pecially, is developed to a wonderful degree in the case of the blind, with whom touch most largely takes the place of sight. It has been thought by some biolo- gists that touch is the original special sense, out of which the others have been developed. Thus it has been said that "the first eye was only a sore spot in the skin." The sensations of touch proper are only those of contact and pressure, and pressure may be considered only as degree, or intensity, of contact. Extremely slight contacts are discernible, while severe pressure may result in such a degree of the pain quality, or tone, as to overpower the discriminative activity, or discernment of differences. Intellectual Service of the Sense of Touch. — Sensations of touch are often highly pleasurable, as in various forms of caressing; yet their predominating value is cognitive. Thus we derive from contact, first, the idea of extension, and thus also of superficial form. This comes through what is known as "plurality of points," that is, through the number of points of stimulation, or of nerve ends, excited. The idea of motion may also be derived from the succession of stimulated points, as when we draw a pencil point across the skin, or in the progress of a fly or other creeping thing across the cuticle. From plurality of points, we also derive ideas of surface, as roughiiess and THE KNOWLEDGE-GIVING SENSES 55 smootJmess, the rough surface being that in which the projecting points are relatively few and far apart, as in a rough-plastered wall contrasted with a polished surface. Some idea of weight may also be derived, as when a weight is placed on the back of a hand supported by a table. The pressing of the skin over the bones and knuckles may afford some criterion of the weight of the superimposed body. Localization of Tactile Sensations. — The most interest- ing problem in connection with touch sensation is that of localization. How are we able to determine the precise point of our bodily surface on which an external body, as a pin or a mosquito, is impinging? This is explained by what is ealled the ''doctrine of local signs. " The infant is, at first, wholly unable to localize contacts or any other impressions, but through the agency of his aimless, spon- taneous movements, and the resulting contacts and reac- tions, along with the coincidence of muscular and ocular sensations, he comes in time, through many experiences, to learn the geography of his skin. Each particular part of the skin is supposed to yield, under stimulation, its own peculiar '*feel," which comes to be, unconsciously at last, both discriminated and firmly associated with its own non- interchangeable place of origin. We cannot now recall the great. labor which was involved in forming these associations; but it was all accomplished in a time in which we had not much else to do. Tlie accuracy of this localizing power varies greatly with different areas of the skin. This may be tested by touch- ing the skin at two points simultaneously, as with the points of a pair of compasses or scissors, and noting the distance between them necessary to produce a conscious- ness of two contacts. This distance is least on the tip of the tongue, where it is only four hundredths of an inch, 5G THE THEORY OF TEACHING whereas, on the middle of the back the points must be over two inches apart in order to be distinguished as two. Active Touch. — Some consideration may profitably be given to that familiar but often unrecognized cooperation of touch and the muscular sense which has received the distinctive appellation of Active Touch. Touch seldom works alone to accomplish intellectual results. For instance, we determine the character of surfaces not by simple contact but by moving the hand over the surface. The blind man discovers the form of objects by a com- bination of movement, contact, and resistance. The nerve ends of muscles and skin are brought into active operation at the same time. The blind man guides him- self along familiar ways by means of a cane; but this, again, brings into simultaneous activity and cooperation the nerres of touch and the muscular sense. It is hardly possible, in fact, to bring the muscles into activity with- out involving some activity of the organs of touch; and these, in turn, are dependent on the muscles for their opportunity to act. This distinction between active touch, a double sense so to speak, and passive touch, or touch proper, is one which should be clearly grasped and held in mind, lest the am- biguity of the term touch involve us at times in confusion. The value and importance of active touch is empha- sized by the fact that it is so often employed as a court of appeal from the other senses. "There are ghosts to all senses but one"; but whatever seems real to the touch has met the supreme test of reality. "Let me take hold of it," is our demand when we distrust our other senses. Summary. — The most fundamental of the knowledge-giving senses is the muscular sense, which yields sensations of movement and resistance. From these are derived our ideas of spatial rela- tions and the fundamental properties of matter. THE Kl^OWLEDGE-GlVING SENSES 57 The sense of touch, strictly speaking, is dependent on nerve ends in the skin, and gives rise only to sensations of contact and pressure. From these are derived ideas of extension, motion, form, and surface. Our ability to localize contacts on the various parts of the skin is explained by the hypothesis of "local signs." The sense of touch acts so commonly in conjunction with the muscular sense that they are often conveniently spoken of as one, under the name of active touch. Thus cooperating, they furnish the final test of illusions in connection with other senses. CHAPTER XII THE SENSE OF HEARING The Organ of Hearing. — The organ of Hearing \s the ear. The stimulus capable of exciting it is found in waves, or vibrations, of air, within certain limits of velocity. The external ear, or concha^ has little importance in hear- ing. The auditory canal is closed at its inner end by a membrane called the tympanic membrane, behind which is the tympanum, or drum, of the ear. This cavity is spanned by a chain of minute bones, called respectively the malleus^ or hammer; the incus^ or anvil; and the stapes, or stirrup. The malleus has an arm, or lever,. the end of which is attached to the middle of the tympanic membrane. When the vibrations of air beat upon this membrane they are transmitted, causing the incus to waggle. It, too, has an arm, or lever, which moves the stapes back and forth, like a little piston, into the foramen ovalis, or doorway to the inner ear. The tympanic cavity, or middle ear, is connected with the pharynx by the Eustachian tube, which enables an equilibrium to be maintained between the atmospheric pressure within the tympanum and that outside. The Inner Ear. — The inner ear, or lahyrinth, is a very intricate affair. It comprises three parts, the vestibule, the cochlea, and the seinicircular canals^ which are, pri- marily, chambers or cavities in the temporal bone. The vestibule is the central chamber with which the other two communicate, and into which the oval foramen opens. 58 THE SENSE OP HEARING 59 The semicircular canals are three hollow loops set in planes at right angles with one another. The cochlea is a spiral canty, like the inside of certain spiral shells. Each of these bony cavities contains within it a membranous sac of corresponding form, known as the membranous cochlea and canals. These are surrounded by a fluid called the ^^erllympli^ which fills the bony chamber, and Fig. 9. Section of the Eae,. M, concha; G, auditory canal; T, tympanic membrane ; P, tympanic cavity; o, oval foramen, or fenestra; V, vestibule; B, a semicircular canal; S, the cochlea; R, Eustachian tube; Vt, scala vestibuli; Pt, scala tympani; A, auditory nerve. are filled by a similar fluid called the endolymph. The vestibule contains a double membranous sac, one part connecting with the cochlea and the other with the canals, while the two parts are connected by a small opening. The connection of the semicircular canals with hearing seems quite enigmatical. Eecent investigation seems to assign them functions as a distinct sense organ for the 60 THE THEORY OF TEACHING Sense of Equilibrium. This receives a degree of corrobo- ration from the form of the organ itself, which seems qualified to act something like a group of spirit-levels set in three different planes. A disturbance in the perilymph of the canals seems, moreover, to produce a sensation of dizziness, as in whirling about rapidly, in swinging, and in falling. Slighter disturbances are sufficient to warn us that the body is getting "out of plumb." The Cochlea. — The cochlea, which contains the ends of the auditory nerve, is extremely complicated in its inter- nal structure and contents. The bony chamber or tube is divided, partly by a spi- ral shelf following the windings of the tube and partly by the basilar membrane which ex- tends from the edge of the shelf to the outside of the tube, into two channels, the scala ves- tihidi and the scala tymjKini. The membra- nous cochlea, sometimes called the scala media, lies between these, the basilar mem- brane constituting its floor, so to speak. The scala ves- tibuli and scala tympani, thus separated, communicate at the top and are filled with the perilymph. Along the edge of the spiral shelf and connected with the basilar membrane, are arranged minute bodies known as cuhoidal cells, Jiair cells, and the rods of Corti. All these are con- tained within the tube of the membranous cochlea, and are surrounded by the endolymph. They constitute the terminal apparatus of the auditory nerve. This arrange- ment is too intricate to be described here; but the ele- FiG. 10. A Section Through the Cochlea. THE SEKSE OE HEARlKa 61 ments of this apparatus are able to respond to all those differences in the stimuli which make possible the great variety of sounds, musical and otherwise. The Physical Process of Hearing . — We may now trace, hastily, the process by which these nerve-ends are reached from the outer world and set into action. Air waves impinge upon the tympanic membrane and communicate their motion to it. This vibration is communicated, in turn, to the suspended, lever -like ossicles of the middle ear. The stapes, or stirrup-bone, plays into the foramen ovalis, and so sets up waves in the perilymph of the vestibule. The waves, or vibrations, of the perilymph spread upwards through the scala vestibuU, returning downwards through the scala ti/7)ij)a7ii. In their down- ward course through the scala ti/fnj^ajii, they ruffle the under side of the basilar membrane. They also commu- nicate their motion through the walls of the membranous sac to the endolymph, which is thus set into similar vibra- tions, which, in turn, affect the fibers of the basilar membrane, which are of various lengths and have been thought to resemble in function the strings of a piano. On this theory, the rods of Corti are thought to act like the dampers of a piano. This excitation of these organs results in sensory cur- rents along the fibers of the auditory nerve. These currents excite the auditory centers of the brain, and sensations of sound follow. A more wonderful and deli- cate apparatus than this of hearing, involving so many and such various organs, and so hidden away and pro- tected from even the minute pulsations of the outer air, it is beyond the power of mind to conceive. In fact, the human nervous system, in all its relations, is the greatest of all miracles and a source of ever-increasing astonish- ment to the thoughtful student. 62 THE THEOEY OF TEACHING The Physics of Sound. — As we have drawn upon Physi- ology to elucidate the process of hearing, in even its simplest form, we must now seek the aid of Physics in order to comprehend the great variety of auditory phe- nomena. The sensations resulting from the process just described, and known collectively as sound, are classified as noises and tones. Tones are those sounds which result from a uniform rate of vibration in the outer stimulus, this rate varying for different tones from 32 to 38,000 per second. Noises result from irregular rates or confusion of vibra- tions. Tones are also known as musical sounds. They are often accompanied, and even obscured, by attendant noises. Thus a cataract, or a machine m operation, has its fundamental tone, or keynote, which may not be noticed by the inattentive person because of the attendant noises — rumblings or splashings — so much more promi- nent. The articulate sounds of human speech, also, have their respective fundamental tones, attended by noises due to friction of the breath against the teeth or other mouth-parts, and often predominating over the tone. The Properties of Tone. — All tones have certain proper- ties, as pitchy lotidtiess, and imire. Pitch is due to the rate of vibration in the sound waves. The lowest discern- ible pitch, or key, results from a rate of thirty-two, or, with some ears, sixteen vibrations per second. The *' octave" of any tone results from a rate of vibration twice as great. The ''middle 0" of our musical scale has a vibratory rate of 256 per second. The highest note recognizable as a musical tone has, as already stated, a rate of about 38,000 per second. Loudness of tone results from the amplitude, or breadth, of the sound waves. Timbre, or quality of tone, as shown in various musical instruments and the great variety of THE SENSE OF HEARING 63 human voices, is attributed to differences in the form of sound waves. When tones of different pitch are heard simultaneously, the compound result may prove agreeable or disagreeable. If agreeable to the normal ear, it is called concord, or harmony; if disagreeable, a discord. Harmony results from a simple relation, or ratio, between the rates of vibration of the constituent tones. Thus, if the ratio is 1:2, we have only a tone and its octave. If the ratio were, say, 11 : 27, the result would be discordant. In what is known as the tonic chord, one, three, five, and eight of the scale, the ratios of vibration are 1, |, |, 2. Another element of music is rhythm, or time, of which some mention will be made a little farther on. Ideas Given hy Hearing. — From its relation to music, the sense of hearing is largely a pleasure-giving sense, yet, through the aid of mental association, it becomes the mother of language and indispensable to the development and communication of ideas. It also aids somewhat in. determining our space relations to the external environ= ment. We discern the direction of sounding bodies with some accuracy under favoring conditions. This is due to the fact that we have two ears and both are stimulated, but unequally, by the same sound waves. We measure the comparative intensity of the two effects, and so infer the direction of the source. If this be directly in our front or rear, the effects will be equal; and we must then rotate the head in search of a difference in effect. Persons deaf in one ear have great difficulty in determining the direction of sounds. The distance of sounding objects may be inferred with some accuracy when the exact nature or cause of the sound is familiar, through its comparative loudness ; but the distance of unfamiliar sounds is largely a matter of 64 THE THEORY OF TEACHING conjecture. We come, also, to associate the peculiar timbre of familiar sounds with the other properties of the bodies producing them, and so are able to infer their character and identity with more or less confidence. Most psjchologists seem to consider hearing as the original source of our ideas of time, doubtless from its intimate connection with the rhythm of music. While a poet may speak of lying awake "to hear time flowing in the middle of the night," the prosaic fact remains that we cannot hear time. It would rather seem that our primary consciousness of time must be connected with the muscular sense and muscular activity. If not, why is *' beating time" with hand or foot so necessary to regulate the rhythm in musical exercises? Hoiu Hearing Serves tlie Mind. — In smell, we come to the first sense which can be affected by objects not in direct contact with the organism. In hearing, we find this range greatly increased, as the air waves which stim- ulate the ear may travel along distance before losing their force. The writer of this heard the discharge of artillery in the battles about Atlanta at a distance of one hundred miles. The direct know^ledge of the external world given by this sense is comparatively small; but it is here that we find the great means of thought communication, the indi- rect contact of mind with mind. It is through the audi- tory sensations of oral language that this contact is effected; and it is this fact which especially dignifies the sense of hearing. It, furthermore, through the service of music, lifts the emotional experience of man to a higher plane than any of the senses thus far considered. Summary. — The organ of hearing is an exceedingly intricate and sensitive apparatus; its nerve ends are found in the cochlea of the inner ear. THE SENSE OF HEARING 65 The external air waves set up a vibratory motion in the tym- panic membrane, which is passed along by the ossicles of tlie middle ear to the perilymph. Waves in the perilymph ascend and descend the channels of the bony cochlea and commmiicate their motion to the basilar membrane and endolymph, thus stimulating the deli- cate organs inside the membranovis cochlea. These, by means of the auditory nerve, excite the brain. The sensations of hearing are classified as noises and tones. Tones are sounds resulting from vibrations of a uniform time rate; noises result from irregular and conflicting vibrations. The properties of tone are pitch, loudness, and timbre, or quality. Pitch results from the rapidity of vibration, which ranges from 32 to 38,000 per second. The ideas directly derived from hearing are few, but itb indirect service to the mind through oral language is incalculable, while it ranks very high in its service to the emotional nature through music. CHAPTER XIII THE SENSE OF SIGHT The Organ of Sight. — The organ of sight is a seemingly more simple but no less wonderful instrument than the organ of hearing. The enclosing envelope, or eyeball, consists of three coats or layers. The outer, called the Sclerotic coat, is a tough, white membrane, which encloses the eye except in front, where the transparent cornea takes its place, like the crystal of a watch set in its case. Next within is the Choroid coat, a thin, black coat of great delicacy. In front, it is modified into the curtain called the Iris, the circular opening in which is called the Pupil. The iris contains certain muscles by the contrac- tion of which the pupil may be dilated or contracted. The third, or inner coat, called the Retina, covers only the back portion of the eyeball, having the form of a cup or bowl. The space within these envelopes is filled by certain transparent refracting media: (1) Immediately back of the cornea is a watery fluid called the Aqueous Humor. (2) Next, is the Crystalline Lens, a double convex lens of a jelly-like substance having considerable elasticity and enclosed in a capsule attached to the Suspensory Ligament. (3) The space between the crystalline lens and the retina is filled by a semisolid substance called the Vitreous Hnmor. The Retina. — The eye is thus, in principle, a little camera, the retina corresponding to the sensitive plate. THE SENSE OF SIGHT 67 The retina is formed by the branching of the optic nerve, which enters the eyeball at the rear and spreads its fibers radially in a series of nine layers, or films, resembling fine lace work. The fibers terminate in a complicated appa- ratus, including the so-called rods and cones, which are the true end-organs of the sense of sight. Two points, or small spots, in the retinal area are of special interest. Ciliary Muscle Optic Nerve Choroid Fig. 11. Horizontal Section of the Right Eye. (From Cotton's Physiotogy.) One, where the optic nerve enters the cavity of the eye, forming the stem of the retina, is called the bliJid spot, being devoid of sensitiveness to light. The other is the point of greatest sensitiveness, and is called the fovea, or yellow spot. This is not far from the center of the retina, the sensitiveness of which gradually diminishes towards its margin. 68 THE THEORY OF TEACHING The Stimulation of the Retina. — The rods and cones of the retina are stimulated by waves, or vibrations, of a medium known as the ether^ which pervades all space. These waves are of great velocity, ranging from 456 billions to 667 billions per second. They are thought of as enter- ing the eye in rays, or lines, of "light." The rays in passing through the crystalline lens are refracted, or bent from their original direction, so as to converge and focus upon some part of the retina, forming what is known as Inner or Vitreous Surface " Internal Limiting Layer Layer of Nerve Fibers Layer of Nerve Ceils Inner Molecular Layer — Inner Nuclear Layer Outer Molecular Layer Outer Nuclear Layer External Linniting Layer Layer of Rods and Cones Layer of Pigment Cell* Outer or Choroid Surface Fig. 12. Diagrammatic Section of the Human Retina. (Waller.) {From Coltons Physiology.) the retinal linage, an illuminated area corresponding in form and color to the body or surface from which the rays proceed. Obedient to optic laws, the rays cross in passing through the pupil, and the image is consequently reversed, or inverted. Of course, an image is formed on each retina. THE SENSE OF SIGHT 69 Accommodatio7i. — In order that the light-rays may be properly focused upon the surface of the retina, so as to form the correct image, means are provided for changing the convexity of the crystalline lens to suit the varying distances of objects from the eye. This adjustment of the lens to the distance of objects is known as Accommo- dation, the accommodation of the eye to its circumstances. This change, according to the accepted theory, is accom- plished by the contraction of the ciliary muscle, which eases the suspensory ligament and allows the lens, by its own elasticity, to assume a more convex form, which is Fig. 13. Diageam Representing by Dotted Lines the Alteration in THE Shape of the Lens in Accommodation for Near Objects. needful in the vision of near-by objects. With advancing age, the lens loses this elasticity and is unable to assume the needful convexity. Spectacles then become necessary to supplement the refraction of the crystalline lens. The eye is naturally set for distant objects, and the apparatus of accommodation is most important to those whose vision is largely employed on objects small and close at hand. 70 THE THEORY OF TEACHING The Muscles of the Eyeiall. — The rotary movements of the eyeball are also important conditions of vision. In order that the rays of light from any seen object may be converged upon the more sensitive part of the retina, about the fovea, it is necessary that the axis of the eyeball be able to change its direction freely. These needful changes are controlled by six muscles known as the recti and ohliqui. Two of the recti effect upward and down- ward movements; two others, movements to right and left, producing the convergence necessary in vision of near objects; while the two oblique muscles, runniug through loops which act as pulleys, are able to pull the eyes in directions between those produced by the recti. Sensations of Sight. — The sensations of retinal origin are those of light and shacle^ or light in various degrees of intensity, and colors, the constituent elements of common sunlight. The different colors are due to different rates of vibration in the medium (ether), violet rays resulting from the highest rate of vibration and red from the lowest rate. While we number the prismatic, or rainbow colors as six or seven, there are but three primary colors, viz., red, green, and violet. All others, with the vast number of shades, tints, and hues, result from combinations of these, by superposition, in various proportions. White, as is well understood, results from the due combination of all the primary colors. Whether black is to be consid- ered a distinct color or the absence of all color seems to be a matter of controversy. The "shine" or sheeny effect called Ulster is sometimes named as a distinct visual sensation. Muscular Sensations of the Eye. — Visual perception or the identification of external objects by sight is not, how- ever, accomplished by the unaided sensations of retinal origin. Much depends, also, on the interpretation of the THE SENSE OF SIGHT 71 muscular sensations arising from the various eye-move- ments. The sensations resulting from the rotary move- ments, and still more those connected with the strains of convergence and accommodation, are of very great impor- tance in what we call seeing things. The partnership, in fact, of muscular and retinal sensation in the act of vision is one of the many marvels of the nervous system in its service of the knowing mind. Ideas Derived from Sight. — We are now prepared, in a measure, to consider the fundamental ideas which arise from visual sensation. (1) First in order, we may name those of extensio7i and superficial form. These become possible, as in the case of touch, through "plurality of points" of contact. The number and relative position of the stimulated rods and cones, determining the extent and form of the retinal image, furnish the data for such perception. (2) Ideas of motion may also arise out of retinal experi- ence. AVhen, for instance, a point of light crosses the field of vision, its rays first impinge upon one margin of the retina. As the point moves, a row of retinal elements are successively stimulated. Thus the pencil of light draws a line, or sort of scratch, across the retina in the opposite direction from that of the moving body; this is on the supposition that the eye remains fixed, which in practice will seldom if ever happen. For we instinctively turn the eye as soon as the margin of the retina is even slightly affected, so as to bring the rays upon the fovea. Thus the wave of stimulation will, as a rule, move from the circumference to the center of the retina. Any change in position of the center of stimulation signifies a corresponding, though opposite, change of position in the exciting object. (3) Ideas of direction seem to originate in connection 72 THE THEORY OF TEACHING with the combination of retinal and muscular sensations involved in the act of seeking out, or following, the posi- tions of external objects. Thus iqj and doivn are con- nected with the elevation or depression of the axis of the eye ; right and left are similarly connected with the cor- responding eye-movements. (4) Ideas of size are related, at first, to the extent of the retinal image; but, since this depends upon the distance of the visible object, our concrete ideas of size are judgments based on the supposed distance of the objects. Ideas of Distance. — Our ideas of distance may, in like manner, in the case of known objects, be based on size. But the visual signs of distance are various and need special consideration. They are as follows : (a) The size of the retinal image, already considered above, (b) The degree of illumination of the image, the apparent bright- ness or darkness of the object, (c) Clearness or dimness of outline, a very important factor. Of course this is greatly modified by atmospheric conditions; hence the many amusing mistakes made by strangers in a dry and dustless atmosphere, like that in the mountains of Colo- rado, (d) The rapidity of apparent movement when either the object or the beholder is in motion, as when riding in the cars. The remoter objects are seemingly stationary, which gives the intervening landscape the appearance of rotation, or whirling, (e) The presence of intervening objects, which break up the distance into parts and thus greatly aid in its accurate estimation, (f) But besides these visual criteria, the muscular sensations of con- vergence and accommodation greatly assist in a proper judgment of distance. To test the energy of these last- named sensations, let any one hold a small object, as a pencil, at arm's length before his eyes, and fix a clear THE SENSE OF SIGHT 73 gaze upon it; then quickly bring it within a few inches of the nose, keeping his eyes fixed upon it all the time. f 1. Size of retinal image. 2. Degree of illumination, light and shade. ! 3. Dimness or clearness of outline. 4. Motion across retinal field. 5. Intervening objects. MuscuIarP- Strain of convergence. I 2. Strain of accommodation. Visual Signs of Distance. Retinal Ideas of Solid Form. — Last but not least, we come to the service rendered by visual sensation in the genesis of our ideas of solidity, or form in three dimensions. Unquestionably, this idea is first reached through expe- riences of active touch in the grasping or handling of objects, the same being also true as to distance, which is, in fact, one of the elements of solidity. The eye cannot grasp^ and it is only in combination with muscular data that visual sensations become signs of solidity. This combination is found in our hinocular perspective. The fact that the two eyes are separated somewhat, thus occu- pying different positions with reference to the seen object, causes the two retinal images to differ in a discernible degree. This difference we have come to associate, auto- matically as it were, with what we have learned through our muscles concerning the solidity of objects. It is by this principle that the stereoscope, with views taken at slightly different angles, produces the illusion of solidity in connection with pictures on plane surfaces. Again, if a book, for instance, be held with its back towards one's face, in front, and looked at with one eye at a time, we shall easily observe the difference in the two views. One shows us the back and one side of the book; the other 74 THE THEORY OF TEACHING eye sees the back and the other side. A look with both eyes combines the two ; and thus, in a sense, the Uvo eyes can grasp a solid object. Another' Retinal Sign of Solidity. — A purely retinal sign of solidity is found in the distribution of light and shade in the image of an object. This principle is utilized in the representation of solid forms by drawing. In rep- resenting a sphere, for instance, the concentric arrange- ment of the shading and the placing of the point of greatest illumination, or least shading, are clear indica- tions of not only the solid form of the object but also of its position with reference to the eye. In looking at a rough surface, as the trunk of an oak tree, the roughness is faithfully indicated by the streakings of light and shade. And almost any one has had the experience of studying a skillfully painted cornice in a hall or large room in the often difficult endeavor to determine whether it truly or falsely represented relief and depression. ]\Iany optical illusions depend for their success upon our instinc- tive inference of solidity from light and shade. It is evident that all these retinal signs of space-rela- tion, distance, direction, etc., are dependent for their significance not only upon their connection with muscular sensations from the eye-muscles, but also on their associ- ation with the results of muscular activity and muscular sensation in the early months and years of childhood. Active touch has been not inaptly called the schoolmaster of the sense of sight. But in due time the pupil outstrips the teacher and becomes apparently, though not really, an independent agent. The data of pure sight would have little intellectual value if they were not thus indisso- lubly associated with motor sensations and experiences. Inversion of the Retinal Image. — Before leaving the subject, brief consideration may be given to the question THE SENSE OF SIGHT 75 which has troubled many as to the inversion and duplica- tion of the retinal image. Why do we not see things double? It seems almost certain that infants do not at first have that single vision which in adults is the normal condition. In early infancy, the two eyes are not coordi- nated in their action, but move independently; so that the babe must have not two homogeneous images, but often entirely dissimilar ones. What the visual con- sciousness resulting from such a condition may be, we can hardly imagine. But, somehow, the movements of the eyes come, in time, to be coordinated; how perfectly may be seen by the following experiment. Close one eye and place the finger lightly upon the closed lid; then with the other eye look back and forth, alternately, at two objects some yards apart. The closed eye will be felt by the imposed finger to move in perfect unison with the other, and no effort of will can interrupt the simultaneous action. It results from this perfect coordination, that rays of light from any object will strike geometrically similar points, or parts, of the two retinae, and thus pro- duce identical impressions. OBJECT EYE Fig. 14. Diagram Illustrating the Inversion of the Retinal Image. iFrom Blaisdell's Physiology.) Why do we not see things upside down? It has been answered that infants do see in that manner at first, but that by means of active touch — touch and the muscular sense — they learn, in time, the true relations of things to 76 THE THEORY OF TEACHING their own bodies, and form the habit of mentally re-in- verting their images, this habit becoming, in process of time, wholly automatic and unconscious. Some experi- ments which have been made on an adult subject seem to confirm this view. But it is to be remembered that the retinal image, as such, never goes any farther than the retina. It does not slide along the nerve to the brain, like a photograph down a tube. The brain event is of an entirely different nature from the retinal image. And even that is still a physical event, and the connection between it and the mental image remains inconceivable. The inversion of the retinal image would seem, therefore, to be a matter of practical indifference. After-Images. — An interesting phenomenon in connec- tion with the sense of sight is found in the duration of luminous sensations, this being greater than the duration of stimulus. Look for a moment, fixedly, at an incan- descent electric light; then turn the eye away into space. A so-called After-image of the luminous loop will appear before the eye, nor will it be removed by closing the eyelids. This, in time, will grow less bright, changing to a reddish color, and finally to a greenish or black out- line, the whole effect persisting for possibly one or more minutes. This is due to what may be called the inertia of the retinal elements. A similar effect produced by the rapid rotation of a live coal or a burning stick, causing an apparent circle of fire, is familiar to all children. For the same reason, shooting stars seem to have tails. The composition of colors on the color-wheel by rapidly rotating sectors of different colors belongs in the same class of phenomena. Thus far, we have been speaking of what are called positive after-images. There is another phenomenon THE SENSE OF SIGHT 77 known as the Negative After-Image, of a different and more complex origin. Almost any one has had the expe- rience of looking absent-mindedly at a picture on the wall and then, upon moving the head, of seeing upon the white surface of the wall a copy of the picture, but with light and shade reversed, the dark parts of the picture appear- ing light and the light parts dark, in the after-image. Similar results follow the fixed gazing at colors. Upon turning the gaze to the white wall, one has an after-image of the complementary color. What was a red spot will now seem to be green. These peculiar effects are sup- posed to be due to fatigue of the retina; but for fuller explanation the reader must be referred to more elaborate works upon the general subject. Summary. — The eye is a piece of physical apparatus resembling the camera in principle. Its most important part, the retina, is formed by the branching of the optic nerve. The rods and cones of the retina are stimulated by waves of ether having great velocity. The proper focusing of the light-rays to form the retinal image is due to (1) the crystalline lens, and (2) a process of adjustment known as accommodation. Muscles of the eyeball play an important part in vision, both in changing its direction and by furnishing muscular sensations which cooperate with those of retinal origin. The purely retinal sensations are those of hght and shade, color, and luster. The ideas derived from sight are those of extension, motion, direction, distance, and both superficial and solid form. The visual signs of distance and solid form are numerous, includ- ing muscular strains and various retinal data. The inversion of the retinal image has occasioned much per- plexity, but it must be remembered that the actual brain event is something differing widely from any illumination of the retina. After-images are an interesting phenomenon, the so-called positive images being due to nervous inertia, while the negative ones are thought to be due to retinal fatigue. 78 THE THEORY OF TEACHING o H '/2 f Hunger, thirst, nausea, repletion. i Suffocation — fatigue. t Pains of disease, injuries, etc. The Ther-) >Heat, cold. The Organ- ic Sense 3, Taste g '6 b£ CO mal Sense ) rTrue tastes, or flavors — sweet, sour, salt, bitter. Mechanical effects — puckery, burn- ing, etc. r Odors, various and unnamed. 4. Smell -{ Mechanical effects — from pungent va- [ pors and powders. _, ,, f Sensations — movement, resistance. 1. TheMuscu- I , ,. , . < Ideas — distance, form, weight, hard- lar Sense i 1^ ness, rigidity, etc. r Sensations — contact, pressure. ] Ideas — extension, rougliness, smooth- [ ness. {Sensations — noise, tone, pitch, etc. Ideas — direction, distance, time. f Sensations — light and shade, colors. 2 Touch 3 Clearing. 4. Sight. luster. j Ideas— extension, motion, direction, (^ form, distance, solidity. CHAPTER XIV SENSE DEFECTS Let the reader now attempt to state the results which would attend the elimination of any of the eight senses that we have named. Taking first the large group of sensations which we have included under the organic sense, would it not be a great relief to be released from all danger of hunger? How we could economize on our board bills! Xo thirst, no drunkenness perhaps; and then the happy immunity from toothache and all the other aches and pains that bring revenue to dentists and doctors! The reply to these suggestions will quickly present itself. Let the other "body-serving senses" be considered in like manner. Coming to the knowledge-giving senses, what would be the effect of the complete elimination of the muscular sense? It would not deprive us of the power of motion; our motor nerves and the contractility of the muscles would still remain, only the sensory nerves from the muscles being nullified. But all voluntary regulation of the motor discharge would be rendered impossible, since there would be no means except eyesight for measuring its momentary effects; and tlie proverbial "hen with her head cut off" would fairly illustrate the character of our movements. A case has been reported of a mother afflicted with paralysis of the muscular sense, who could not hold her baby in her arms except by keeping her eye on it to prevent an unconscious relaxation of the muscles. 79 80 THE THEORY OP TEACHING It is difficult to imagine the effect on our conscious life of a complete absence of the sense of touch, in its proper sense. Kissing and all other caressing would quickly go out of fashion, for one item. But a world without con- tact the mind is unable adequately to conceive. Our feel- ing of reality in the things about us would, seemingly, be immensely weakened if not abolished, and we should move as in a world of ghosts. ' As a matter of fact, however, it is only the more highly specialized senses which are ever found defective, unless as a pathological condition. But the organs of sight and hearing, the senses the most important for the service of the mind, are not infrequently partially or wholly incapable, through defects of structure or as a result of disease, of performing their normal functions. The Limitations of the Blind. — We may first consider briefly those total defects known as deafness and blind- ness, or, rather, the mental condition of those defectives known as the blind and the deaf and dumb. Let us approach the subject from the standpoint of the ques- tion, "Would you rather have been born blind or deal?" What are the limitations of the congenitally blind? (a) They are, in the first place, cut off from all the pleas- ures of color. The entrancing beauty of sky and land- scape, of floral tints and forms, and the light of human smiles are forever a sealed book. *' Truly the light is sweet, and a pleasant thing it is for the eyes to behold the light of the sun," but not for the blind, who have no eyes, (b) All the intellectual discriminations based on differences of color and of light and shade, which form so important a part of space and form perception, are also denied, (c) The ability to read and get knowledge from books is fatally curtailed, since books for the blind are so few, so bulky, and so prohibitively expensive, (d) The SEK8E DEFECTS 81 blind are so restricted in their power of moving about in unfamiliar places that they are far more dependent than deaf-mutes in the matter of gaining a livelihood. The Limitations of the Deaf. — On the other hand, the limitations of the deaf are these: (a) They are cut off, firstly, from all the pleasures of music, of poetry and oratory, as such, and even from the sound of the human voice. They live in a world of silence, as the blind do in a world of darkness ; and yet these have neither darkness nor silence as normally constituted persons are conscious of darkness and silence, (b) While their vocal organs may be perfect, their inability to hear the articulate sounds of others cuts them off from the possibility of normal speech and communication through oral language. But the most serious aspect, or result, of this is found m their inability to listen to the conversation of others. They are thus cut off from asking questions^ lacking the power and also the stimulus which come to other children from hearing remarks which they do not understand. All that early education which the hearing child gets from the table-talk of the family and the mere ability to over- hear and to ask questions is no part of the deaf-mute's heritage. This results in greatly retarding, if not entirely thwarting, his development in moral and religious direc- tions. In all that makes for the awakening and enlighten- ing of the higher nature, the blind child, in earliest years, has greatly the advantage of the deaf. PARTIAL SENSE DEFECTS Partial Defects of Vision. — Still more interesting and practically important to the teacher of children are those partial sense defects which do not amount to blindness or deafness in the ordinary sense of those terms. One of the commonest of these is myopia^ or near-sightedness, which 82 THE THEORY OF TEACHING results from too great convexity of the lens, or malforma- tion of the eyeball so that the rays of light are focused before reaching the retina. Other defects resulting from malformation of the eyeball are liypermetrojna^ or far- sightedness, where the lens is too flat, or the eyeball too short, so that the rays would focus behind the retina; and astigmatism^ in which case the front of the eyeball slightly approaches the cylindrical instead of the spherical form. All these structural defects can be measurably over- come by the use of proper lenses, or "glasses." Success in the use of books and in the general work of the school is often greatly impeded by lack of such instrumentary correction, and the failure is attributed to stupidity which is due only to physical misfortune. It is of the utmost importance, therefore, that teachers be vigilant in detect- ing and reporting such defects at the earliest moment. Color- Blindness. — An optical defect of different nature is that of color-blindness, due not to malformation of the eyeball but to some deficiency in the retinal elements, the rods and cones. The "typically," or completely color- blind person sees the world in monochrome, in gray, so to speak. A summer landscape produces on him the effect of a photograph or steel engraving rather than that of a water-color or oil painting. But very few persons are in this condition. Most color-blind people are defective with reference to oidy one of the three primary colors; they are red-Uind^ green-blind, or violet-Mind. Red-blind- ness is the most common. A plausible explanation — the Young-IIelmholz theory — as to the cause of this defect holds that there are tliree kinds of retinal elements, each of which responds only to the rate of ether- vibration which belongs to one of the primary colors. If those nerve ends which respond to SENSE DEFECTS 83 the rate for red are abortive or do not function properly, the person is red-blmd, and so on. Other hypotheses have been proposed. Railroad companies have found it necessary to carefully examine their employees for the detection of this defect, as the inability to distinguish a red light, the danger signal, may often have serious consequences. Much, however, of what passes for color blindness is simply color ignorance, often only an ignorance of color names. In such cases, of course, the limitation can be forestalled, or even removed, by proper training in the discrimination of colors. The failure to give this in many schools is a culpable neglect. Partial Defects of Hearing. — Partial deafness, some- times due to removable causes, is also not uncommon. And, as in the case of defects of vision, the child is often at a hopeless disadvantage in his work through unsus- pected dullness of the sense organ. The simple giving of such a child a front seat in the recitation room may often relieve him from the handicap. But all such defects should be promptly reported to parents, with clear intima- tion of the daily consequences. Perhaps the most common of all sense defects is that form of aural dullness which consists in the inability to discriminate pitches, and the consequent inability to sing the scale accurately. We call such persons "unmusical"; and many seem almost to pride themselves on this condi- tion, not appreciating the fact that it is really a jDhysical deformity. The term tone-deafness, as analogous to the term color-blindness, might be appropriately applied to this form of defect. In most cases, it can be overcome or forestalled by proper training of the ear in early years. Perhaps it might be said that many people are tone- stupid instead of tone-deaf. Their unmusical condition 84 THE THEORY OF TEACHING is the result of neglect rather than of structural deformity. Where real tone-deafness exists, it interferes with adequate expression in reading and elocution as well as the ability to sing. It will easily be seen that there are strong reasons for insisting upon musical instruction in the elementary schools. The Blind-Deaf. — Much interest has been felt by all students of mind in the remarkable cases of Laura Bridgman and Helen Keller, who suffered in very early years a total loss of both sight and hearing. Laura Bridgman lost also the senses of taste and smell. Yet, through the infinite patience and skill of their special instructors, both became, in a sense, educated persons. Much has been written about Helen Keller which is probably soQiewhat apocryphal; but enough of unques- tioned fact remains to make her case one of great interest and importance to educators. But these two women are both phenomenal; they stand out in strong contrast with the great body of defectives, and constitute a notable problem for the psychologist. We should always remember, what we are in great danger of not realizing, that no person deficient in any one of the senses can possibly have the same sort of mind as if in possession of all the senses. In the congenital deaf-mute, for instance, a whole segment of mind is hope- lessly and irrevocably wanting. In the congeni tally blind person, another segment is wanting. Helen Keller is neither "eye-minded" nor "ear-minded," but touch- minded and motor-minded. Laura Bridgman wrote a few specimens of what she thought to be poetry. The result would be laughable if it were not pitiful. The meta- phors, which are the essence of poetry, based on percep- tions of color and sound, to say nothing of the metrical element, must be absolutely beyond the apprehension or SENSE DEFECTS 85 the imagination of such a person. Yet it is very hard for the normally constituted individual to realize the full and necessary force of such limitations. Summary. — Perfection of function in all the senses is essential to normal mentality. All defects in sense organs affect in various ways and degrees the character and range of the sensations and consequently of the ideas derived from them. This effect is greatest in the case of the knowledge-giving senses, and especially of sight and hearing. The congenitally deaf suffer loss of the pleasures of music, of the ability to speak, and, worst of all, of the ability to overhear conversation and to ask questions. The congenitally blind suffer loss of the pleasures of color and light, of the ability to read to any extent, and of physical independ- ence. Partial defects of vision are those known as myopia, hyperme- tropia, and astigmatism, and the retinal disability called color- blindness. A partial defect of hearing, the inability to distinguish pitches, corresponds to color-blindness in vision. Persons lacking both sight and hearing, as Laura Bridgman and Helen Keller, furnish an interesting study in psychology; but it should be remembered that no person afflicted with any serious defect of the special sense organs can possibly have a complete mind or life experience. CHAPTER XV PERCEPTION Sensation and Percept mi. — In common thought, no clear distinction is recognized between sensation and per- ception. In the preceding chapter on Sensation, much has been anticipated which belongs properly to Percep- tion. We are now prepared to take up this activity more explicitly, and discover in what respect it is a distinct operation of mind. Sensation is, as we have seen, a state of feeling, the result of impressions from without. It is, in a sense, passive; the mind is acted upon from without and responds in the simplest possible way. But the response does not stop with mere sensibility. The mind instinc- tively goes back of the sensations aroused and asks to what they are due, attributes them to a cause outside the mind itself. Sensation is a state of feeling; perception is an act of hnoiving. We have called sensation the first mental result of the stimulation of an incarrying nerve; we might, in like manner, call perception the second mental result of the stimulation of an incarrying nerve. Sensation, like other feeling, is subjective; what we feel is onrselves, our own states. Perception is objective; what we perceive is something external to our mind. The Process of Perception. — But this process of refer- ring sensation to its cause is by no means so simple as is ordinarily supposed. It usually involves the following steps, or phases: 86 PEECEPTIOI^" 87 (1) Discrimination, the consciousness of change and difference. The present sensation is a newly risen element in consciousness. (2) Assimilatiun, the recognition of this new sensation as similar to some former sensation, its identification with former experience. (3) Localization, which includes two facts, (a) the determination of the particular part or organ of the body whose excitation is responsible for the given sensation, and (b) the instinctive projection into space, by what has been termed the "eccentricity of sensation," of the excit- ing cause, or object. We have already made reference to the first of these acts in connection with the sense of touch. (4) Rejjresentation. There arises in consciousness a reproduction, or imaging, of past experiences, known as the representative element in perception. How important a part this plays will presently be seen. (5) Inference, or the final reference of the sensation to its external cause. It is not meant that these steps in the process of per- ception follow one another in distinct succession; it would be as accurate, perhaps, to say that they occur simultane- ously. Neither statement would be strictly true ; but the analysis shows perception to be a complex process, and far from the simple act which it is popularly thought to be. The Perceptive Act Illustrated. — Some illustration may be necessary to make clear the preceding statements. Suppose one lying in bed, in the darkness of the night, to have certain sensations of sound, noises. There will follow, first, the discrimination of this condition of con- sciousness from the previous silence and from other concurrent sensations, as those of warmth or contact. The new sensations are assimilated, or classified as noises. 88 THE THEORY OF TEACHING Tliey are localized not only as originating in the ear, but are mentally projected into space as coming from the street without. A representation, or image, arises in mind of objects or causes associated with similar sensations in former experience, as a baby carriage trundled on the sidewalk, or a loaded dray. Finally, we settle upon a satisfactory association and refer our sensation to its accepted cause. This process may not be slow or labored; it may all come in a flash as the listener says, "I wonder who is trundling a go-cart at this time of night." Again, one experiences a feeling of pain which he dis- tinguishes from other coexistent sensations and classifies as a pricking or stinging sensation. By its "local sign," he locates the stimulation as on the back of his neck. Images arise in mind of the possible cause. Now is the time for caution. His treatment of that cause will wisely vary with the inference he draws. If he iufers a mosquito or fly, his action will difl'er from the safe one if he infers a wasp. It will be recognized that the closing step in perception is an implicit judgment based on the comparison of expe- riences past and present. We may now define perception as the interior etatioyi of sensation, or the reference of sensation to its outward cause. We may say that Perception=Sensation-j- Discrimination ^ Assimilation | Localization \ ^Interpretation . Representation | Inference j Perception Further Characterized.— T\\q term perception is properly applied to the process, while the product is called a percept. A percept is that idea which we have of an external object while it is acting upon our senses. PERCEPTION 89 It should be noted that a percept is seldom related to only a single sensation. It usually combines a group of associated sensations, as in our percept of an apple. We have visual sensations of light and shade and color; active touch gives impressions of hardness, smoothness, and solidity; the sense of smell makes its contribution; while images arise of its taste and internal structure. All these the perceiving mind fuses into one experience, the percept of an apple. But a drayman handling a barrel of apples might, from simply the sensations of smell and muscular resistance, infer the presence of apples. This also is an act of perception, though the representative element is larger than in the former case. It has been said that sensations bear something of the same relation to percepts that letters do to words. We spell percepts out of sensations; but sometimes we need only to see a few of the letters in order to spell the whole word. The beginner in this subject must guard against con- fusing the percept and the perceived object. Percepts, like sensations, are purely mental entities, existing only in the mind. The perceived object, as a physical entity, must exhibit certain attributes or conditions : (a) It must be capable of exciting the end-organs of one or more of our several senses, (b) It must be present, here and now. (c) The mind must assign it definite position in space. Do We Ever Have Pure Sensations? — The question natu- rally arises, Do we ever, in adult life, have pure sensa- tions, on which the mind does not react by way of interpretation? It seems clear that in earliest infancy all sensations are thus pure, or mere sensations. The babe has, at first, no power or means of interpretation; he does not know what his sensations mean. The power of per- 90 THE THEORY OF TEACHING ception develops slowly and gradually. But, once devel- oped, the habit of referring all sensations to physical causes becomes so strong that some reference is unavoid- able under ordinary conditions. The reference may be mistaken, but it is no less an act of interpretation. The nearest approach which we now have to pure sensa- tion, unless we except the organic sensations, may perhaps be found in the transition state or mament between sleep- ing and waking. Some sound may have barely awakened us, and we say, in a half-dazed fashion, What was that? But any repetition of the noise will be promptly inter- preted. In busy, preoccupied moments we might, per- haps, become conscious of a pleasant odor without giving it sufficient attention to refer it definitely to a flower or other source; but, even thus, there would be at least some act of discrimination and assimilation, distinguishing the sensation as an odor and as pleasant or unpleasant. Illusions. — Since perception is essentially the intel- lectual interpretation of sensations, it follows that \ve may have false perceptions. A mistaken interpretation, or false perception, is called an illusion. The timid foot- passenger on a starlit night may find a tramp, or even a spook, in what closer observation would resolve into a wind-swayed bush or a grazing sheep. Many wonderful illusions are artificially produced of a nature to make one *'doubt the evidence of his senses." But our senses always tell true; it is the intellect which goes astray in its interpretation. In cases of illusion, there is always a perceived object, something acting on the senses, but it is wrongly perceived. This often results from some precon- ception possessing the mind at the time, the representative element in the perceptive process tlius gaining undue prominence. Training in Perception. — Training in perception, while PERCEPTION 91 it involves exercise of the sense organs, is not really a training of those organs, but a training of the mind. Its essential factor is a discipline of the power and habit of attention with reference to the several steps of the per- ceptive process, and especially the fundamental ones of discrimination and assimilation, or, in a single word, comparison. Much of the careless, slipshod observation in the world has its cause, primarily, in sense defects as yet undiscovered. For instance, the near-sighted child cannot see things clearly, and so takes little interest in seeing. He does not form the Uahit of seeing things, as flowers, colors, etc., critically and appreciatively. But, on the other hand, lack of the observing habit is often due to mere neglect or indifference on the part of all con- cerned. Much attention should be given by both parents and teachers to the cultivation of the power and habit of accu- rate observation. The chief instrumentality for accom- plishirrg this important result is, after all, only the simple device of wisely using the index finger. The child's interest only needs direction. The thoughtful guide of childhood will be constantly saying, "See there! See how bright — or how curious or how rare — that is!" An alert habit of mind, and watchfulness for whatever is novel or significant or beautifirl, may thus be easily established in early years by the simplest means. Of course, the parent or teacher needs first to have himself an observant mind and a comprehensive interest in the environment. More formal exercise of the observing faculty should also be provided for in the lower grades of school in the way of lessons in color and form, and in the various phases of manual training and nature study. Other results of value besides the power of observation will thus be incidentally secured. 92 THE THEORY OF TEACHING Summary. — Sensation is a state of feeling; perception is an act of knowing. Sensation is subjective; perception is objective. The process of perception is complex and involves the several factors of discrimination, assimilation, localization, representation, and inference, resulting in interpretation, or the reference of sensation to an outward cause. The act of perception usually involves the grouping of sensa- tions, though some of these may be mentally represented instead of being actually felt. The term perception is applied to the act, or process; the prod- uct, or resulting consciousness, is called a percept. A perceived object must be (a) capable of exciting sensory nerve ends, (b) present here and now, (c) assigned to a definite position in space. In adult life we seldom, if ever, have pure, unreferred sensa- tions. Illusions are mistaken perceptions; the sensations are actual, but wTongly interpreted. Training in perception is a training of the mind to use the sense organs effectively, and the first step towards this is the arousing and directing of the child's attention to things about him. CHAPTER XVI ATTENTION The Distribution of Consciousness. — We are now pre- pared for a fuller consideration of consciousness, and especially that phase of it called Attention. Conscious- ness has already been characterized as any form of mental activity; it is aiuareness of external phenomena and of ourselves, of our own exercise of knowing, feeling, and willing. As related to external objects, we are conscious of many things at the same time, but in different degree. The field of consciousness, at most times, is wide. We may borrow a useful illustration from the functioning of the retina. As we look out upon an extended scene, a thousand individual objects imprint their images upon the retinal area, but, owing to the structure of the retina, not with equal effect. Images occupying the central part of the field of vision gain access to the more sensitive part of the retina, and their mental result is therefore more intense than in the case of those objects which impress only the marginal portions. The field of consciousness, like the field of vision, may be considered as partly focal and partly marginal, a fact to which Pro- fessor Lloyd Morgan has serviceably called attention. To put the matter in another way, consciousness is not evenly distributed throughout its field; some parts, or objects, are in its focus whiJe more are marginal. Attention Defined. — Attention is focal, or intensified, consciousness, the concentration of consciousness upon 93 94 THE THEORY OF TEACHING some objects in preference to others which remain in consciousness but are comparatively neglected. Atten- tion is thus selective in its action, and involves a narrow- ing of the clear field of consciousness, as looking through a microscope narrows the field of vision. Attention is not a distinct faculty of the mind; it is not a peculiar form or kind of consciousness, but only a high degree of consciousness. A lens may focus rays of any color — to form a field of high illumination. Co7iditions of Attention. — This concentration of con- sciousness, or attention, is an indispensable requisite for all effective and successful intellectual activity ; it is there- fore of the utmost consequence to the educator that he understand clearly the conditions on which its presence depends. (1) First, we may name the physical condition of hrain vigor, a fresh and healthful condition of the cerebral hemispheres and the nervous system as a whole. Efficient attention is not to be expected when the brain and nerves are greatly fatigued or in any diseased or abnormal condition. A headache or a state of drowsiness is not conducive to mental concentration. An anaemic or ill-nourished condition of the bodily organism is inimical to prolonged mental concentration. (2) A second condition is that of efficient stimulus. The mental effect which will be produced by this depends on (a) The quantity or force of the stimulus. A bonfire or a flash of lightning compels greater attention than the flame of a candle, (b) The quality or kind of stimulus. A red light may command keener attention than a yellow one. The taste of grapes may excite consciousness more than their smell. A musical performance may command attention either by its excellence or its badness, (c) But the greatest effect of stimulus is found in connection with change. A stimulus might be of such quality or quantity ATTENTION 95 as not to surmount the threshold of consciousness while it remained uniform, yet a slight change in either would instantly arrest attention. Thus the faintest shadows or changes of illumination in a dark room will receive prompt attention and interpretation. The hawk may not find the mouse while the mouse sits still, but the slightest move- ment brings him down upon the prey, (3) Last, but not least, attention depends upon interest. "Interest is the mother of attention, attention is the mother of knowledge; if you would win the daughter, make sure of the mother and grandmother." Yet it is also true that attention may become the mother of interest. Interest. — Fuller consideration must here be given to the meaning and office of Interest. What is interest? When do we call a book or a performance interesting? When it excites our feelings; when it makes us laugh or cry or excites our indignation or sympathy. Interest is any hind of feeling that arouses the act of attention. The most important kind of interest is that which arises in connection with knowledge and the quest for truth. One form of this we call curiosity. By this term we may designate the desire of the child, or the gossip, to know more about small things, or the eager thirst of the scien- tific investigator to know the whole truth about large things. The causes which excite interest are of impor- tance to the teacher. They seem to be found in the proper relating of the two principles of 7iovelty and familiarity^ as these respectively call forth the acts of discrimination and assimilation. We are always glad to go away from home and encounter the novel; we are equally glad to return to the familiar environment of home. We are interested in the crowd of strangers at the World's Fair, but intensely interested in the fellow townsman or neigh- 96 THE THEORY OF TEACHING bor whom we may discover in the motley crowd. We are interested in new books, but we love the old stand-bys. The novel must not be too novel; an object about which we could predicate absolutely nothing would not command any interest or attention. An object about which we had nothing more to learn would be equally uninteresting. "Similarity amid diversity" is everywhere the condition which stimulates the mind to its most profitable and effective exercise. Kinds of Attention. — Two varieties or forms of atten- tion are distinguished, Non-voluntary or j^utomatic, and Voluntary. Automatic, or Keflex, Attention is that due to the attractive force of the object or stimulus. While it involves the expenditure of nervous energy, and so may be physically exhausting, it does not involve the effort of will. The attention which one gives to a con- flagration is an extreme example; also the consciousness of one hearing the roar of an oncoming tornado. Like Coleridge's wedding guest, "He cannot choose but hear." The attention of children is chiefly of this non-voluntary sort. Moreover, it is very fleeting, changing momentarily with the changing stimulus. The young child is the victim of his sensory environment, a prey to stimuli, at the mercy of present, immediate interests. Voluntary Atte?ition. — Voluntary Attention is distin- guished as that which is under the direction of the will. The mind is thought of as actively taking the matter into its own hands and setting aside or vetoing the present stimuli which clamor for recognition. This is done under the pressure of a far-reaching purpose, a future result held firmly in view. It might thus be said that voluntary attention, no less than non-voluntary, is determined by interest, the fundamental difference being, after all, only that between immediate and remote interests. ATTENTION 97 Voluntary attention is characteristic of the trained adult mind; it is not, however, a persistent state. The will can bring the mind and object together, but if some present interest does not supervene, if voluntary attention does not soon merge into non-voluntary, it will loose its grip and a new direction be given to it. The student grappling with a new and difficult lesson furnishes a per- tinent illustration. If an interest does not speedily develop in some part or phase of the lesson, catching and holding his attention, his mind will relax and wander. He must then pull himself up and introduce his mind anew to the lesson. If he does not at length succeed in "getting interested" in the topic itself, he will abandon the effort in despair or disgust. A different example may be seen in our experience with a new book, even a novel. The first chapters go hard; automatic attention does not develop rapidly enough, and it is only by repeated acts of will that we hold on till the plot and dialogue have gen- erated a body of feeling or present interest, which fur- nishes sufficient motive to send us forward. But this body of feeling may finally become so great that we find it as difficult to break off as we did to begin. The great office of will, therefore, in connection with attention is that of initiative, of bringing mind and object into such contact that the uninteresting shall become the inter- esting. And the will must have the backing of a clearly defined and highly esteemed end, or purpose. Choice of Interests. — But the will also acts in another way, by a balancing of conflicting interests and the inhibi- tion, or setting aside, of some that others may have posses- sion of the field. Thus the will may be said to determine what interest or kind of interests shall prevail at a given time. The act of inhibition — literally, holding in — tho checking of an impulse, consists often, if not always, in 98. THE THEORY OF. TEACHING the displacement of one action by another. Thus a boy frightened by the sudden appearance of a dog may inhibit or check his impulse to run away by moving towards the dogo An impulse to contract one set of muscles is over- come by innervating the antagonist muscles. The same principle applies to the relation of ideas in consciousness. I turn away from or banish unwelcome ideas by summon- ing others to occupy or divert my attention, much as a nurse quiets a hurt child by getting him to look out of the window. The nurse controls the emotional state of the child simply by playing one stimulus against another; none the less, she controls it. And so the student checks his mind-wanderings* by perseveringly pulling himself up and setting before his mind anew the remoter interest or end for which the study was undertaken. Summary. — We are conscious of many things at the same instant, but not to an equal degree. The focusing or concentration of consciousness, called attention, may be compared to the focusing of light on the retina, and consciousness may be discriminated as focal and marghial. Attention is focal consciousness. Attention depends on f Brain-vigor. {Quantity. Quality. Change of. Interest, which depends on | Familiarity. Interest is any kind of feeling which excites the effort of atten- tion. Curiosity is one form of interest. Attention is of two kinds, or types, voluntary and involuntary. Involuntary attention is that due to the attractiveness of a present object. Voluntary attention is that due to an act of the will aroused by some remoter interest, or object of desire. The function of the will in attention consists in introducing the mind to the object and in bringing it back to the object when it has relaxed or wandered. It also operates through the choice of the interest which shall be allowed to act, and in the checking or inhibition of competing interests. CHAPTER XVII MEMORY Represe7itation. — The effect of a perceived object upon the brain and mind does not wholly cease with the act of perception. We have seen in our analysis of the percep- tive process that it contains a factor which we called Representation, the revival, in some way, of past sensa- tions or experiences with which the present ones are iden- tified or assimilated. Here, then, with the very beginning of perception, we have also the beginning of Memory. We must now mark the distinction between percepts and images. A percept is the idea, or notion, which we have of an external object while it is acting upon our senses. An image is a similar idea which we have of an individual object or event which is not present to any of the senses. At night and out of doors, one may have a percept of the moon; at anytime, one may close his eyes and call to mind an image of the moon in any one of its particular phases. One may have, at will, a clear image of a deceased friend of whom percepts are no longer possible. Such an image is a remembered percept, or memory -image. It is a more or less perfect copy of a former percept. The image, is believed to be occasioned by the activity of the same parts of the brain that were concerned in the excit- ing of the original percept. The percept is, normally, more vivid than the image ; and this vividness probably gives that feeling of reality which the mind attaches to a perceived object. Our images, however, as in dreams, 99 100 THE THEORY OP TEACHING have sometimes a degree of vividness which causes them to he ilhisory. A lady, known to the author, dreamed on one occasion that she was invited out to tea on the following Thursday evening. When the time came, she responded to the invitation, and was greatly chagrined, in the course of events, to find that she was self-invited. Phases of tlie Memory Process. — Memory as a process involves three factors or phases, namely, Eetention, Eeproduction, and Eecognition. The nature of reten- tion has been, in the popular understanding, greatly mis- apprehended. The mind has been thought of as a sort of storehouse, or case of pigeon-holes, in which images of past experiences are stored away, like old negatives in a photographer's back-room, to be pulled out again as occa- sion requires. This conception is very wide of the fact. If the question be asked, "Where are our ideas when they are not in consciousness?" the only valid answer must be, "iVbzi^Aere. " If I crook my arm and then straighten it again, where is the crook then? Gone forever, non- existent. The mind is not a receptacle; it is an activity. We shall never have again the image or percept of the present moment; it will be another one, closely similar to the present one but not identical with it, for neither the con- ditions nor the mind itself will ever be again exactly the same as now. The same part of the brain will function again in reproducing the image, but it will be a new act and produce a new copy of the original percept. That these copies vary slightly with each recurrence may be seen in the case of experiences often recalled through a series of years. Our memories slip. I recall with seeming clearness certain experiences as a soldier in the Civil War, and have often recalled them, but my old army diary bometimes tells a different story from my seemingly clear memories. MEMORY 101 RETENTION" Retejition Defined, — Retention may, then, be defined as the permanent possiMlity^ due to modificatio7i of brain structure, of reviving past mental experiences. Every mental act leaves the brain a little different from what it was before or would otherwise have been. The gnarled oak contains within its tissues a record of all that has happened to it through frost or sun or storm; if we had the eyes to read this record we could know the whole life- history of the tree, in its knots and rings and the twist of its fibers. In like manner the brain builds and organizes a record of all its activities and vicissitudes. Every new experience works a change in structure, and the persist- ence of these changes is *' retention," or the physical basis of memory. Eetention is, thus, primarily a physical result, registered in the brain and nerves. Nature of the Brain Changes. — What the exact nature of these brain changes may be is mostly a matter of con- jecture. Some have imagined it to consist in a change in the shape of the brain cells, or new groupings or arrange- ments of brain cells, or the forming of new paths in the brain, new relations between the neurones, or all these things together. The most we are safe in asserting is that mental activity leaves traces in the brain, that these traces are deepened by each repetition or revival of the experience, and that activities which have once occurred occur more easily again. The first occurrence establishes a tendency to recurrence. These "traces" have been compared to grooves, which are deepened more and more by continued repetition of the experience producing them. Imagine a slope of land, well harrowed and smoothed, upon which a heavy rain comes doAvn. The water will not pass off in a thin sheet, but will gather into rills, and these will follow the lines of 102 THE THEORY OF TEACHING least resistance. In the dry time following, the wind and other agencies may fill up these rills, or grooves, with dust and debris; but when the next rain comes it will not dig new courses, but clean out and follow those first traced. And each recurring storm will but deepen the original channels. So with the nervous pathways of our brains. The Conditions of Retention. — The conditions on which the depth and permanence of this registering of impres- sions in the nervous system depend are partly mental and partly physical. They are (1) Attention and (2) Repeti- tion. The conditions of attention have already been dis- cussed. It will be recalled that the most important of these is the form of feeling known as interest, a purely psychical antecedent, while an important place is also held by brain conditions and the character of the stimu- lus, both, primarily, physical conditions. Eepetition, while more mechanical than interest and attention, nevertheless plays an important part in the deepening of impressions and the modification of the nervous system. The analogy between the effect of the repetition of mental experiences in the deepening of brain traces, or paths, and that of the repetition of acts and causes in the purely physical world has already been sug- gested in our illustration of the falling of water upon a slope of ground. Repetition is especially useful, and sometimes the sole resort, in cases where interest fails or cannot be developed, as in learning the multiplication table. It also serves as a valuable reinforcement to the work of attention. The whole force and value of habit rests largely upon the effects of repetition. Reproduction. — Reproduction, the power and the act of recalling or reinstating past percepts and images, depends of course and primarily upon retention, as already defined. Readiness and accuracy of recall are also MEMORY 103 dependent on the recency of the original experience or, at least, the recency and frequency of previous reproduc- tion. I can recall with clearness and accuracy what I had for dinner yesterday, but what I ate a month ago to-day has passed beyond recall. There is an apparent exception in the case of extreme age. The old man recalls freely many of the events of his youth, but cannot remember the incidents of a year ago. This memory of early expe- riences is due to the impress made upon his brain in the plastic period of life; but the brain tissues have now lost the impressibility of youthful years; the power which we have called retention is atrophied, and reproduction is forestalled at its very source. ASSOCIATION" A third, or we might say the first, condition of repro- duction is found in what is called Association of ideas. Association is that relationsliip hetioeen ideas by tohich they tend to recall one another into consciousness. Our consciousness is always complex; that of any moment comprises many parts or items, and yet it is, in a sense, unitary. Whenever some of the items of a conscious state or instant are by any means revived, they tend to reinstate the remaining items, or constituents, of that conscious state. In brief, experiences occ^irring together tend to recur together. This is called the Law of Con- tiguity. But no instant of consciousness is distinct or cut off from the preceding and succeeding moments. Like dissolving views, the successive states blend into each other; so that we speak, appropriately, of the Stream of Consciousness. Yet the relation of ideas is not that of mere fluidity. Ideas are linked together by relations of time and space. The law of contiguity includes both these relations, and associates not only simultaneous ideas 104 THE THEORY OF TEACHING but also those immediately successive. For example, if I have sometime fallen out of a boat at a picnic I shall hardly be able to recall the splash without images also of the surroundings, the witnesses, the preceding and succeeding events and demonstrations, the quest for dry clothes, etc. If I have once been at the top of the Wash- ington monument, I cannot recall the fact without images of the Potomac, the Capitol and other contiguous facts and events. To recall the old homestead of childhood days is to image also its inmates and surroundings. For a simple example, how promptly each letter of the alpha- bet suggests the next! As the French proverb says, "You cannot think a without thinking Z»." The successive notes in a tune have the same power to call up each the next. Law of Cause and Effect. — Another important relation which links ideas together is that of cause and effect. Consciousness of any fact or event as an effect tends forcibly to suggest the cause, and vice versa. The sight of a lime-kiln makes us look for the quarry; that of a water-mill, for the pond. Any visible action or gesture compels some interpretation on our part, some idea of the mental state which called it forth. The memory of a journey or of an accident will bring again to mind the causes which lay back of it. To think of a book is to think of its author or publisher. Psychologists have been wont to include this association under the law of contiguity. But cause and effect are not always contiguous in either time or place; and the causal relation is so important a one in our mental life that it seems useful for the teacher to give it distinct recogni- tion, whatever course the philosopher may find most con- sonant with his aims. Law of Similarity. — A third principle of Association, MEMORY 105 markedly distinct from either of the foregoing, is known as the Law of Similarity Ideas and mental situations tend to suggest, or recall, like past experiences. This likeness consists in the possession of a common element or elements. Thus the appearance of a person with a peculiai nose or eye may call to mind anotiier person with a similar feature, though in other respects the persons may be widely different. To think of President Garfield is almost inevitably to think also of Lincoln and McKinley, because of their two elements of resemblance, one official and the other tragic. George Steele's poem, "Deirdre," which I recently read, reminded me of Ten- nyson's '' Idylls of the King." Latu of Contrast. — The Law of Contrast has been recognized as a distinct principle; but it is not difficult to regard this as only a special form or variety of the law of similarity. Contrast is only a low degree of similarity. We do not contrast things which are wholly unlike; indeed^ contrasted things have more points of likeness than of unlikeness. A dwarf may remind us of a giant, but both are men. Summer heat may suggest the cold of winter, or the cold of ice-water, but both are tempera- tures. Ingratitude may suggest gratitude, but both are moral qualities. The Place of Association hy Contiguity. — Association by contiguity is the predominant form Avith children and with uneducated persons, people of undeveloped intellects. The untrained mind cannot readily analyze a past experi- ence and relate only the essential features of it. The associations of mere contiguity prevail overpoweringly at every step. Literature, which aims to mirror life, affords many examples, such as the maundering of Juliet's Nurse (Romeo and Juliet, Act I, Scene iii), or Dame Quickly's specific assault upon Falstaff ; 106 THE THEORY OF TEACHING *'Thoii didst swear to me upon a parcel-gilt goblet, sitting in my Dolphin-chamber, at the round table, by a sea-coal fire, upon Wednesday in Wheeson-week, when the Prince broke thy head for liking his father to a singing- man of Windsor, — thou didst swear to me then, as I was washing thy Avound, to marry me, and make me my lady, thy wife. Canst thou deny it? Did not goodwife Keech, the butcher's wife, come in then, and call me gossip Quickly? coming in to borrow a mess of vinegar ; telling us she had a good dish of prawns; whereby thoti didst desire to eat some; whereby I told thee they were ill for a green wound? And didst thou not, when she was gone down stairs, desire me to be no more so familiar with such poor people; saying that ere long they should call me madam? And didst thou not kiss me, and bid me fetch thee thirty shillings? I put thee now to thy book- oath: deny it, if thou canst." Associatio7i in Learning to Read. — Contiguous associa- tion enters largely into the routine work of the elementary school, as in learning the alphabet, learning to spell, learning the multiplication table, etc. In the process of learning to read, we have a striking example of the asso- ciation of sensations. The child has first, let us say, the percept and image of a dog. The word dog comes to him first in sensations of sound, an ear-word. In learning to speak it, muscular sensations are associated with the aud- itory ones, and he has now a mouth-word. When the written symbol is presented, visual sensations enter the combination, and he has the eye-word. Finally, we have another set of muscular sensations aroused in the writing of it, giving him a hand-word. Henceforth, all these activities are indissolubly associated with the idea, or image, dog ; and any one is able to call up all the rest. The annexed diagram represents, in a way, the part which association plays at each step in the child's conquest of a vocabulary. MEMORY 107 ^ Image Hand-word( Ear-word Eye- word ' Mouth- word The Higher Forms of Association. — But while associa- tion by contiguity plays so great a part in common life, the higher forms of intellectual activity are dependent on the associations of similarity and of cause and effect. The scientist, on the one hand, and the poet, on the other, live, so to speak, in associations of similarity. The botanist identifies his flower, the geologist his fossil, through the suggestive force of some point of likeness, and that, often, not through a laborious process of reasoning but by a flash of recognition. Whit tier sings of a familiar sight : "Still sits the school-house by the road, A ragged beggar sunning." We are struck at once by the force and fitness of the figure; but each and every metaphor springs into sudden existence through the suggestions of similarity, more or less subtle. In all the studies of the school which are not purely mechanical, as in history, literature, and the sciences, it is the duty of the teacher to see that causal relations and those of similarity, or common nature, are brought to the fore and duly emphasized. The superficial and mechan- ical, often accidental, relations of mere contiguity have their part to play, but should be brought into service only where the more vital relations are not traceable. 108 THE THEORY OF TEACHING Breadth of Associafiofi. — Sinoo one great object of study and mental training is the power of ready recall, the ability to command a reproduction of what we have learned when we need it, the educator must consider carefully all the practical phases of association. One of these is found in the fact that readiness of recall depends on both strength and breadth of associations. Firmness of association is furthered by attention and repetition. Breadth of association is the result of definite, intelligent effort in the discovery and tracing out of relations, especially of similarity. The pupil should be trained to continually ask himself, in the face of any new item of knowledge, "Where have I met anything like this before? What facts already known to me have any bearing on this fact?" The more widely we associate any truth with other truths, or with its related facts, the more numerous and effective clues shall we possess for the recovery of this truth when wanted, through its convergent associa- tions. We need to recognize, however, that associations are divergent as well as convergent. It is this fact of divergent association which leads to that mind- wandering which passes for inattention. The student needs to pro- tect himself from this tendency by externally guarding against needless distractions and by exercise of will to keep his stream of consciousness flowing in the right channels. Summary. — A percept is the notion we have of an object while it is acting upon our senses; an image is the idea which we have of an individual object or event which is not present to the senses. The percept is more vivid than the corresponding image. Memory involves three factors, retention, reproduction, and recognition. Retention is the permanent possibility of reviving past mental experiences; it is due to modification of brain structure. The conditions of retention are attention and repetition. Repetition deepens the brain "traces" produced by attention. MEMORY 109 Reproduction is the act of recalling past percepts and images into present consciousness. It depends on retention, recency, and association. Association is that relationship between ideas by which they tend to suggest, or recall, one another. The most important principles of association are known as the laws of contiguity, of cause and effect, of similarity, and of con- trast. Association by contiguity is the main reliance of children and uneducated persons. Scientists and poets make greatest use of the law of similarity. Breadth of association is essential to ready and effective recall; it can be secured only by diligent effort in tracing out relations between facts and ideas. CHAPTER XVIII MEMORY— CONTINUED Recognition. — Recognition is an essential element of remembering. There may be retention and reproduction of past experience, but if it be not recognized as our oivn past experience, there is no memory. College seniors and more experienced orators, ere now, have had the experi- ence of finding a place, in their effort of production, where composition became easy and expression ran smoothly if not eloquently. Later on, after delivery perhaps, the accusation of **cribbing" arose and was substantiated. The eloquent passage had been unconsciously reproduced from Macaulay, or some other admirable source, without recognition. The unlucky wight believed himself to have originated, not borrowed, the passage. This act of repro* duction without recognition, in such cases, has received the name of "unconscious plagiarism." The man who "repeats himself" is usually unconscious of the fact; he does not remetJiber what he is repeating. It is a matter of cerebral habit rather than of memory. The essential fact in the recognition of reproduced images seems to consist in the assignment to them of a definite time and place in one's own former consciousness. They must be known, at least, as representing actual former experiences of our own. As in perception, the mind must assign the perceived object a definite position in space, so in memory the revived event must be appre- hended as having definite time relations to other conscious experience which we are also able to recall. 110 MEMORY 111 Kinds of Memory. — Attempts have been made to classify memory, or divide it into different kinds These attempts have not been very satisfactory; but it seems useful to recognize the differences between the memory of youth and that of maturity. In the years from, say, six to sixteen, memory is very receptive and tenacious. Mind is impressible and alert, the brain is very plastic, and even unimportant experiences are remembered without much effort of organization. The memory at this stage has been cdlledi meclianical^ or verbal^ words being easily remembered without much reference to their meaning. A declamation, for instance, of several pages of prose may be memorized with ease at this time; whereas, later in life such an act becomes, to most, an impossibility. This *'tar-bucket" memory, which catches and holds all that it touches, relies mainly on associations of contiguity and relations of sensation. It remembers things by their sound or look and by simple succession, as in the learning by children of counting-out rhymes and other meaningless lingo. After the age of about sixteen, this mechanical, verbal memory begins to fail, or rather to be superseded by what may be called the ratmial, analytic memory. Mere con- text becomes increasingly difficult to retain, by reason of changing brain conditions. Greater dependence must be had on the signification of what is learned ; it must be analyzed and organized according to its relations of simi- larity and cause and effect. The law of contiguity is no longer an efficient servant, and verbal memorizing becomes a severe and irksome task. Disparagement of Memory. — Much contempt has been poured upon the mechanical memory by educators in recent years. Indeed, all memorizing has been disparaged to such an extent, and all demand for "learning by 112 THE THEORY OF TEACHIKQ heart"' has been abandoned to such a degree, that serious results have followed. A generation of pupils has arisen that blithely welcomes the new doctrine, and feels aggrieved at any requirement of accurate reproduction of lessons. This general disparagement of memory, directed in the first place against the ancient abuse of mere verbal memorizing, has now reached such a pitch in the uncon- scious practice of a generation of teachers that the decay of memory seems to be already a progressive result. The wise teacher will not pour scorn on that form of memory which is the distinctive and priceless possession of youth, but will strive, rather, to direct it and keep it alive as long as possible along with the more rational memory which arrives later. The premature abandonment of even severe exercise of the verbal memory is a pedagogical mistake. And we should take cfjre, before it is too late, to store this memory with those useful facts with which it alone can cope. Learning to spell, for instance, is work for these years; it must be done then or never. So with the learning of arithmetical tables and dates in history, like 1492 and 1776, and the Latin paradigms. Again, youth is the time for storing the mind with a great quantity of literary extracts, ''memory gems," as they are called in the parlance of teachers. In short, all the *' drudge work" of memory should be taken care of before it is too late; for at the right time it is 7iot drudgery. And even in the adolescent years we should not be neglectful of "learning by heart," though we should make the proper distinction between that and learning by rote. Special Memories. — We sometimes speak of special memories, as the memory of musical sounds and combina- tions, of which "Blind Tom" furnished so striking an example; the memory of color and form, enabling an MEMORY 113 artist to paint a portrait from memory; memories of dates, of mathematical formulae, etc. But these are due to special interests or perhaps to special excellence in cer- tain sense-organs, which results in greater depth of impression by special classes of phenomena. He who has no excellence of perception in a given class of phe- nomena will have no strength of memory in that direc- tion. Rememhrance and Recollection. — Another classification, or division, of memory may be made on the basis of its relation to volition. Much of our mental recall is invol- untary; one image follows another under the laws of association, the train of ideas being broken from time to time by new percepts which switch off the train upon new tracks, so to speak. This automatic recall, of which we have a good example in day-dreaming, may appropriately be named Eemembrance. Eecollection, on the other hand, is the term applied to recall by conscious effort of the will. Much of the student's effort in recitation is of this sort. A still more familiar example is found in the effort to recover a name which has "slipped our mind." This voluntary recall, like the automatic, depends on the principles of association, and works by seeking clues which may suggest the desired appellation. There seems to be lurking in consciousness a vague notion of the word, a sort of mold which it must fit. Various names come up and are tested by this mold and rejected, one after another, until one is found which fits and is ac- cepted. The training of memory consists not in modifying the power of "retention," which is undoubtedly a fixed quantity by constitutional organization, but in increasing the mind's skill (1) in organizing and relating the ideas to be reproduced, and (2) in searching for successful clues 114 THE THEORY OF TEACHING and thus getting free from the obstructive force of diver- gent associations. Mnemonics. — At certain periods in the history of edu- cation, much attention was given to Mnemonics, or artificial systems for aiding the memory. Some of these systems were very elaborate, as the famed "memory town" of the Romans, described in the Encyclopedia Britannica (9th edition). All mnemonic systems are based on the laws of association; but, as a rule, they employ only superficial and artificial associations. And the fact was at length appreciated that it costs more labor to learn and operate the systems than to remember with- out them. Many simple mnemonic devices, however, are in common use, such as the familiar doggerel, "Thirty days hath September," and the artificial arrangement of initial letters as in the word vibgyor for the order of the pris- matic colors, and divers schemes for remembering the signification of the various "signatures" of the musical staff. Summary. — That experience which is retained and reproduced must also be recognized as belonging to our own past before the act of memory is complete. We may distinguish between the mechanical, verbal memory of youth and the more rational memory of adult years. The one relies mainly on associations of contiguity; the other, upon relations of similarity and cause. The early form ot memory should be kept alive as long as possible, and not be disparaged or allowed to fall into disuse. So-called special memories are due to special interests or the greater excellence of certain sense-organs. Remembrance, or automatic memory, occurs through the mere succession of associated ideas or images; while recollection involves the exercise of will, and works by seeking for clues which may suggest the desired recall. Mnemonics is a term applied to various devices and systems for artificially aiding the memory. MEMORY 115 1. Attention ! J depending on ' O cc f 1. Brain Vigor. ! Quantity. Quality. Change of. { Immediate. 3. Interest-] due to ( Remote. Novelty. Familiarity. ! 2. Repetition. 1^ 1. Retention (as above) 2. Recency 3. Association I ' Law of Contiguity j ^^^^ Law of Cause and Effect. Law of Similarity. Law of Contrast. 3. Recognition CHAPTER XIX IMAGINATION The mental images which we have thus far considered, as furnished by memory, are remembered percepts, more or less exact copies of our own past experience. But the mind is able to transcend these limits and form images of experience not its own, of scenes remote in time and space. I have had a percept of Mount Tacoma, I may have memory-images of it at pleasure; but I may also form images of other mountains, of icebergs, and cathe- drals,which I have not seen. This is beyond the power of memory, yet not without the aid of memory. I have never seen an iceberg, but I have seen ice, broken frag- ments of ice floating in water, and have noticed how large a part of their bulk lies below the surface of the water. I have seen blocks of ice subjected to the action of the sun and becoming white and honeycombed. I have sometimes seen the iridescent effects from such ice when the sunlight is reflected from it. And from these experiences I can construct the iceberg floating in southern seas. I combine with the various appearances of ice and water the size of a great building, for instance ; and thus, from elements furnished first by perception and again by memory, I form an image of the unseen. Again, one who has never seen a cathedral but has seen churches containing various elements of cathedral archi- tecture may gather out those elements, under proper guidance, and recombine them into a new image. Thus, 116 IMAGIISTATIOK 117 he may start, mentally, with a stone wall of any building, adding the pointed arches of one church, the buttresses of another, the stained glass windows of another, the spires and pinnacles of yet others, the interior columns and arches from some picture, even, thus building, more or less completely, a cathedral in his mind. This is imagination, which may be defined as the mind^s poioer of reproducing and recomhining into neiu forms the elemefits of past exjjerience. Tlie Process of Imagination. — The process above out- lined is seen to be a sort of patchwork composition not altogether unlike that of our grandmothers, who cut up calico into various figures and stitched the pieces together again, according to some design, into the famous bedquilts of bygone days. The stages of the imaginative process are (1) Reproduction, the revival, in part at least, of images of past experience. (2) Dissociation, the break- ing up of these memory-images and the selection of those elements needful for the new product. (3) Construction, the recombining of these elements, in due proportion, into a new whole, the image of something outside our own previous experience. This process is ordinarily guided by language as employed in descriptions, and may be greatly assisted by pictures in the imagining of visible objects; but in its higher forms imagination escapes from all lead- ing strings and independently creates new images and combinations. It is not to be understood that these three steps of the process of imagining are distinct in point of time; they coexist, or overlap. Indeed, we may be clearly conscious only of the final stage, construction. The image rises before us unbidden, often; but it can only arise out of materials of former experience retained and repro- duced. 118 THE THEORY OF TEA.CHING Phases or Kinds of Imagination. — Imagination has been divided into Reprodnctive and Constructive ; but what is meant by reproductive imagination is simply memory, and only confusion results from calling it anything else. More- over, all imagination is iotli reproductive and constructive. A more valid distinction may be made between Passive and Active, or Automatic and Voluntary imagination. The first of these is seen in dreams, in day-dreaming, and in the uncontrolled fancy of children. Says Sully, "The sports of childish imagination are not the product of any mental [volitional?] effort, but seem rather to be the result of a 'fortuitous concourse of (imaginative) atoms.' Any kind of mental excitement, by greatly increasing the num- ber of [memory] images called up, as well as their degree of vividness, is favorable to this free, uncontrolled play of imagination." On the other hand, a more profitable exercise of imag- inative faculty is accompanied by volitional effort, giving it direction towards serviceable and more or less inten- tional products. This may be found both in scientific speculation and in literary creation by novelist or poet. The Uses of Imagination. — In time past, imagination has received, at the hands of some, a disparagement similar to that accorded of late to memory. It has been alleged that imagination is "like a peacock's tail," more ornamental than useful, more obstructive than profitable. It has been thought, too, to be a source of temptation and danger, morally speaking; and there is, of course, an element of truth in this view. "Vain imaginings" have always the possibility of moral danger; and imagination, like fire, is "a good servant but a bad master." The office and service of imagination in our mental life may best be seen by an analysis into its more or distinct uses. IMAGINATION^ 119 Cogtiitive Imagination. — First, we may speak of the Cognitive Imagination, or imagination as employed in learning and knowing. In the field of geography, for instance, I have perceptive knowledge of those portions of the earth's surface which I have traveled over and per- sonally seen. All the rest of the world I can know only by testimony; and that testimony can be made available only by the exercise of imagination, my own imagination. The facts of history, in like manner, lie beyond my immediate ken and can be reached and apprehended only by the imagination. So, also, in physiology our appre- hension of the circulatory system, for instance, is to most persons merely such as imagination can construct. In geometry, such fundamental ideas as point and line are altogether imaginary; while astronomy furnishes an example of perhaps the most stupendous exercise of this all-embracing faculty. Perception has for its cognitive field only the present, a point of time; memory has a wider field, the past ; but imagination sweeps past, pres- ent, and future. Like death, it ''claims all seasons for its own." Let the pupil analyze carefully the work of a single day in each of his studies to discover the degree of his dependence on imagination in the knowing process, and he will doubtless be surprised at the result. Sense experience, though fundamental, as furnishing the raw materials of knowledge, is necessarily narrow and has relatively little value nntil taken up and recast by imag- ination, which gives our knowledge its widest extension. Inventive^ or Practical, Imagination. — But the doer as well as the thinker, the artisan as well as the student, finds constant need for the service of this faculty in what has been called the Practical, or Inventive, Imagination. The carpenter must have clearly in mind the final appear- ance and effect of the building or apparatus which he is 120 THE THEORY OF TEACHING about to construct. He cannot build even a hencoop, except from actual copy, without forming beforehand an image of that which is to be. The cook making a batch of bread has, beforehand, her ideal of how it ought to look, outside and inside, when it is done. The dressmaker and milliner have, presumably, clear images of the effects which they aim to produce; though the uninitiated observer might sometimes suspect the results to be due to accident rather than to "malice afore- thought." Even the farmer wishing to set a horse-post in his back yard, and selecting a stick from his wood-pile for that purpose, must exercise his imagination. He must have, beforehand, an image of the sort of stick needed, and even of the proper depth of the post-hole. Of course, the value of this phase of imagination to the machinist, the inventor, and the engineer is beyond com- putation. The end sought through the cognitive imagin- ation is knowledge; that of the inventive imagination is utility. ^stlietic, or Artistic^ Imagination. — In contrast with these prosaic, cart-horse uses of imagination, we have — what many have thought of as its sole function — its use by painters, sculptors, and poets, the zEsthetic, or Artistic, Imagination. As the Cognitive imagination serves the ends of knowledge and the Inventive the ends of utility, so the /Esthetic has for its office to serve the ends of feeling, especially the feeling fo?' beatify. This is the distinct field of the fine arts — painting, sculpture, music, literature, and architecture, not forgetting histri- onic art. The object of the artist is twofold, first to express and relieve the feeling aroused within him by his ideals and images; and, secondly, to arouse admiration and aesthetic feeling in the minds of others. The work of art pro- IMAGINATION" 121 duced with any lower aim than this is contemptuously called a "pot-boiler." Only a few of us are artists, but all have in some measure the power of appreciating and enjoying true works of art, representations of ideal beauty, and this capacity deserves all possible stimulation and direction at the hands of teachers. As poetry is the highest of all the arts, rising farther than any other above the field of sense, and carrying the mind of him who comprehends it beyond the sordid limitations of daily life, be he rich or poor, it deserves the most earnest and judicious attention from all instructors of the young. Etliical Imagination. — Still another field of imaginative exercise may be distinguished, that involved in our moral and spiritual development. This phase we may name the Ethical Imagination. Under this term, w^e place the mind's activity in setting up ideals of character. These are as truly constructive as any other products of imagin- ation; they are built up by the regular process of dissoci- ation and recombination. We admire the patience of one 23erson, the integrity of another, the graciousness of a third, the courage of a fourth, and so on; and we gather up all these attributes into one ideal man, not neglecting, however, to retain some fragment, at least, of our own self as we concei\re it. Carrying this process still farther, we endeavor to form an absolute ideal, not of the perfect man, but of the perfect being, of absolute and infinite power and good- ness; and so the ethical imagination leads us to our con- ceptions, more or less crude, of Deity, the Absolute One. Thus our religious feelings and ideals are woven together into our spiritual life. Imagination and Emotion. — The intimate connection between imagination and emotion is a fact worthy of 122 THE THEORY OF TEACHING notice. Imagination is a sort of border land where intel- lect and sensibility meet and mingle and interact. Imagination is most active when the feelings are excited ; and the resulting images, in turn, still further excite the feelings. What is called the artistic temperament fur- nishes abundant illustration of this inherent connection between emotional activity and phantasy, or the image- making power. "TJie poet's eye in a fine phrensy rolling" is supposed to indicate an inspired state; but everything that we mean by inspiration, whether religious or artistic, involves the possession of the mind by strong feeling, arousing the imagination to its highest flights. The prophet and the poet alike illustrate this interdependence of imagination and emotion. But the same interdependence is found on a lower plane. The fears of children furnish an example, strong fear giving rise to phantoms which inspire fresh fear. A different example is found in the case of the young lover, whose intensity of tender emotion helps him to invest its object with graces and virtues not discoverable by other people. Imagination in Children. — Evidences of imaginative activity are discoverable in children at an early age. Even in the first year of life, if the infant sees his mother putting on her wraps to go out, he will manifest signs of delight and expectation; and these have been cited as evidences of incipient imagination. It is doubtful whether they signify anything more than association of ideas; yet association is doubtless the starting point of all repre- sentation, of imagination as well as remembrance. In the second year, signs of the free exercise of imagination multiply in connection with the play of the child. A good example is seen in play with dolls, and especially with the IMAGINATION" 123 simple variety, or substitute, called paper dolls. A young child may form a collection of scores of these scissored bits of paper, each of which may not only receive its own permanent name but also a definite ascription of character and personality. A given one becomes consistently a good or bad, a sickly or quick-tempered child in all the many relations into which the little owner's active fancy may bring it. The conversion of a broomstick into a spirited or half-broken liorse, which rears and plunges and endangers its rider, is a famih'ar phenomenon of the nursery. So with the construction of "play-houses," snow forts, and the like. All this play of childish imag- ination is admirably pictured in the following extract from Wordsworth's ode on "Intimations of Immortality from Eecollections of Early Childhood." " Behold the child among his new-born blisses — A six years' darling of a pigmy size! See, where 'mid work of his own hand he lies, Fretted by sallies of his mother's kisses, With light upon him from his father's eyes! See, at his feet, some little plan or chert, Some fragment from his dream of human life, Shaped by himself with newly learned art — A wedding or a festival, a mourning or a funeral — And this hath now his heart. And unto this he frames his song. Then will he fit his tongue To dialogues of business, love, or strife; But it will not be long Ere this be thrown aside, And with new joy and pride The little actor cons another part — Filling from time to time his ' humorous stage' With all the persons, down to palsied age, That life brings with her in her equipage; As if his whole vocation were endless imitation." 124 THE THEORY OF TEACHING Crudity of CJiildish Fancy. — The imagination of child- hood, while very active, is nevertheless crude and undevel- oped. The child's lack of experience makes him credulous; he knows no reason why centaurs, mermaids, and dragons should not actually exist. Yet the higher exercises of the constructive faculty are beyond his reach. Through the quickness of his fancy, he is at the mercy of unwise nurse-maids and questionable associates in his most impressible years, and often he is left in such danger through the thoughtlessness or ignorance of parents. Thus the bugaboo stories, of the bogey, or the "black man," or "the goblins," sometimes told to children by servants as a means of frightening them into obedience or quiet, may lay the foundation for life -long fears and suffering. Dangers of Imagination. — The dangers from maltreat- ment or neglect of childish imagination may be graded under several heads. (1) The confusion of fact and fancy. A child of deli- cate nervous organization and sensitive nature may have its mind so filled up with exciting fairy stories — like Grimm's Tales, for instance — that the border line between reality and fancy becomes partially obliterated. What are called "children's lies" are often only the natural product of such conditions. They really have no moral quality, but are nevertheless a source of danger. Care and discrimination should be exercised here. Some chil- dren are too matter-of-fact and unimpressible to be in any danger from overstimulation of fancy; but others need to be carefully guarded and not left to revel riotously in exciting stories. (2) At a later period, a worse danger arises in connec- tion with the "dime novel" or "yellow" sort of literature, if literature it can be called, the danger of inciting unreal IMAGINATION' 125 views of life. The boy whose mind is saturated with such *'rot" forms low and vulgar ideals, and naturally aspires to become, in fact, as well as in fancy, the Indian-killer, cowboy, or bandit of the yellow novel. As a matter of fact, thousands of boys have been thus corrupted and sent on a wrong track in life, through perverted imagina- tions, only to bring up in the reformatory or prison, if not at the rope's end. In like manner, many a girl, revel- ing not in the blood-and- thunder but the mush-and-honey type of cheap novel, forms the mental habit of looking forward to a life of idle luxury, and waiting inanely for the wealthy suitor, the princely lover, who shall carry her away from the limitations of real life to a land of dreams. She may end by becoming the slatternly, inefficient wife of whatever sort of man she can finally catch, or her end may be of a kind still worse, but unspeakable. (3) To the person who is crossing the threshold of adult life, imagination becomes the servant of vice. '* Vice is a monster of such hideous mien, that to be hated needs but to be seen," if seen in all its naked deformity. But it seldom is thus seen. Art 'is called to its service, and imagination casts a glamour over what would other- wise be repulsive. Meretricious literature, pictures, songs, and, worst of all, the exciting melodrama and vaudeville of the variety theater, all tend to gild licentiousness and lure the young man on to perilous indulgence and tamper- ing with sin. The chambers of his mind, instead of being kept ''beautiful, entire, and clean," come to be hung with impure images which take hold on the ways of death. lm;pure images are thus the latest and chief of the dan- gers which imagination, i± not duly chastened and wisely nurtured, may lay in the path of the young. Cultivation of Imagination. — The culture of the imag- iuatioQ is, therefore, a matter of the most vital impor- 126 THE THEORY OF TEACHING tance, first, to make it the efficient servant of the intellect as the great expander of knowledge, and, secondly, that it may serve the life and character by the creation of pure and ennobling ideals. This culture may be both positive and negative. On the positive side, there must be (1) a clue provision of proper material. To this end, the child should have great variety of sensation and of all whole- some experience. Children should be taken to parks ahd zoological gardens, to fairs and through industrial estab- lishments, with such amount of general travel as may be practicable, that their stock of raw material for the uses of imaginative reconstruction may be as large as possible. (2) Next comes due exercise of the constructive power. This is initiated, in the little child, by stories; later it is secured by narratives involving much description, such as are found in the Zigzag Journeys, Knox's "Boy Travel- ers," and similar books. History follows next, beginning with books of action, like Coffin's "Boys of '76," but coming in due time to Macaulay's England. Interest in literature should not be allowed to stop with the novel, but should be led on to an application and enjoyment of poetry — true poetry and not mere jingle. The Heading Class in the elementary school furnishes excellent occasion and means for the exercise of imagination in both its cognitive and aesthetic aspects. (3) On the negative side, the work properly begins in the home, in the guarding of children against the forming and harboring of impure images. The damage is often done early. Long before parents have awakened to any sense of danger, the process of corruption may have got well under way, through the influence of evil-minded associates, unthinking servants, and unscrupulous adver- tising quacks. But in school also there is need for vigi- lance. One evil-minded boy in a large school may prove a IMAGINATIOK 127 sinner destroyeth much good." The teacher should never forget that imaginative power may minister to the highest interests of the human soul or it may lay snares to trap it into all that is vile and debasing. Summary. — Our image-making power is not confined to the present, but may reach through all time and space. Imagination pictures the as yet unseen by reproducing and recombining the elements of past experience. The process of imagination includes three steps, Reproduction, Dissociation, and Construction. It may be distinguished as Automatic and Voluntary. It may also be denominated, according to its uses, as (1) Cog- nitive, as employed in learning and knowing; (2) Inventive, or practical, as used m doing or making; (3) ^Esthetic, or artistic, as serving the ends of feeling; and (4) Ethical, as involved in our moral and spiritual development. Imagination is intimately connected with emotion; it is the border land of intellect and sensibility. Imagination appears early in children, especially in connection with the play instinct. It is then active, but not highly developed, taking the simple and crude forms of childish fancy. Certain dangers from the misdirection of childish imagination are (1) Confusion of fact and fancy, (2) Unreal views of life, (3) Im- pure imaginings. The cultivation of imagination involves (1) A due provision of proper materials, (2) Due exercise of the constructive power, (3) The proper guarding of children against the forming of impure images. CHAPTER XX CONCEPTION The Thought Powers. — We have thus far considered only those impressions and effects which are produced by individual objects and events, and the mind's reaction upon them as individuals. We have studied the Pre- sentative Power of the mind, Perception, and the Repre- sentative Powers, Memory and Imagination, all of which yield only the individual notion. We come now to the general notion and those mental operations which are included under tlie term Thought. The so-called Thought Powers are distinguished as Conception, Judg- ment, and Reasoning. These operations are closely inter- related; but, logically, that of conception is fundamental and must be first comprehended. The process called conception results in mental prod- ucts, or ideas, called concepts. It will be useful for us to gain, at the outset, a clear understanding of the proper application of this term, since it has been so loosely used in pedagogical literature that the reader is often confused by its ambiguity. By some, it has been employed to denote almost any state or form of consciousness, a use for which the term psychosis would be better fitted. Let us proceed to illustrate the correct use of the term. Concepts. — Let the reader try to have in consciousness all that is ever meant by the word soldier; not the image of an individual soldier but the idea of soldiers in general. At the first sight or sound of the word, there will doubt- 128 CONCEPTION" 129 less come into mind the image of a man in uniform of some particular color and armed with weapons of some particular style. He may be imaged as either on foot or on horseback. But while the word soldier may stand for such an individual, it also has a much wider application. Soldier may mean either cavalryman, infantryman, or artilleryman; spearman, bowman, or musketeer; clad in any style or color of uniform according to nationality; of varying age, size, or even sex, so broadly inclusive is the term. And yet it is also exclusive, for certain definite attributes, or qualities, are essential to every soldier. Let us say, soldiers are all persons trained and organized to fight in the service of a nation. This general notion of a class of persons or things is called a concept, or, still more accurately, a class concept. All class concepts are represented in language by common nouns. The Process of Conception. — The process of conception may be analyzed into four steps or stages. (1) Compar- ison, or the discerning of the likeness and unlikeness of a number of percepts or images. This, of course, implies presentation, or perception, as an antecedent process. (2) The mind skims off, so to speak, or separates out for closer attention, those attributes, or qualities, which are discerned to be commoji to all the individuals compared. This drawing off of the common qualities and rejection of all others, no matter how striking or conspicuous, is called Abstraction. (3) But the common qualities are abstracted for a purpose. The next step is that of grouping together in mind all individuals which possess these qualities in common, or the formation of classes on the basis of common attributes. This act is called Gen- eralization, the word being derived from genera^ the plural of the Latin word genus, meaning a class. (4) But the process is not yet complete. The notion of a class, 130 THE THEORY OP TEACHING thus reached, is incommunicable and unmanageable until it has been marked off by a name common to all the class, a common noun. This step is called Denomination. The essentiality of this step to the complete process of con- ception will be more fully considered in a future chapter. Illustration of the Groivth of a Concept. — The rise of concepts in the mind of a child may be illustrated by the following example. Suppose a child in country or village to be familiar with a large building adjacent to the dwell- ing but devoted to different uses. In it are horses and other animals, with their fodder and perhaps sundry vehicles. Moreover, this place seems well suited to the play of the child and his mates. So long as this is the only building of the sort which he knows, he has only percepts or images of it, and the word liarn is a proper noun. His idea of barn is only an individual notion. But, in time, he visits neighboring premises and finds there buildings devoted to similar uses, though differing in many particulars, as color, size, and material. The child compares them, abstracts the common qualities — home for domestic animals, storehouse for their food, place for boys to play in — generalizes all such buildings into a class, and extends to them all the term barn, which now becomes a common noun. Abstract Notions. — We are now prepared for a further step in clearing up our idea of what concepts are. Some concepts are not class concepts. The process of abstrac- tion may be carried so far as to eliminate all the qualities of the compared objects except one, and then we may apply a name to that quality as such, without any refer- ence to the individual objects possessing it. Thus we designate single, abstract (abstracted) qualities by such words as height^ lueiglit^ hardness^ goodness^ truthy tem- perance^ and the like. These we appropriately call CONCEPTION" 131 abstract nouns, and the ideas which they represent are called abstract notions. We thus have two kinds of con- cepts, (1) class concepts, represented by common nouns, and (2) abstract notions, represented by abstract nouns. The old grammar-book definition, "An abstract noun is the name of a quality considered apart from the thing to which it belongs," is pertinent in this connection. If a definition is demanded for concepts as a whole, we may simply say, A concept is a general notion. Of course, these abstract qus^lities are not distinct things possessed by objects ; they are, in fact, only effects pro- duced on our minds by classes of objects. They are, in a sense, simply influences which objects exert; that is what we mean by qualities. Concepts Ccmnot he Imaged. — Because of its gener- ality, a concept cannot be imaged. An image is always individual, a concept is general. Let us take another example of the way in which concepts are formed, by trying to abstract the essential common qualities of the concept tree. If we say that a tree must have a trunk, we still cannot specify any given length or diameter. Its length may be one inch or a hundred feet. If we say that leaves are essential to a tree, we cannot assign any par- ticular form; and the tree may be either deciduous or evergreen. We agree that roots are essential to all trees, but of what length or spread? A tree must have sap cir- culating through its parts, but that can hardly be imaged. If we now try to gather up only these essential character- istics, we have no more than the ghost of a tree. Though roots, sap, etc., are very real, they are not picturable in general but only in particular. It is doubtless true, with most minds at least, that the hearing or sight of a common noun usually calls into con- sciousness the image of some possible individual of the lo2 THE THEOHY OF TEACHING class; but this preliminary image is only a forerunner and not the concept. It may well be called a "symbolic image," but it should be clearly distinguished from the class concept which it symbolizes. As in perception we must distinguish between the per- cept and the perceived object, so in conception we must not confuse the concept with the body of individuals from which it is derived. For example, if we had all the elephants in the world gathered into one enclosure, they would not constitute the concept elephant. The concept is purely a mental creation. Concepts Not Fixed or Uniform in Content. — We must carefully guard against thinking of concepts as definite and permanent products with constant values. The con- cept of virtue^ or even the concept plant., for instance, is not the same in different minds nor in the same mind at different times or ages. A concept is, it has been said, *'a bundle of qualities." But it does not always contain the same qualities. A concept is "a way of looking at things," "the way things go together"; as in the concept triangle., which does not simply represent a class of facts, but a way of thinking lines together. Concepts are always in the process of growth. The child's idea of ayiimal is at first crude and fragmentary. It lacks intension, since he has not abstracted all the essential attributes; and it also lacks extension, inasmuch as he does not consciously include all the constituent species. He does not yet realize that worms or mosquitoes are animals. Children's concepts are little more than shells, which must be gradually filled with meaning as the growth of experience and reflection make such develop- ment possible. The ordinary person's concept of orange is very different from that of the botanist, the artist, or the chemist. The concept may be conceived, then, as a COI^CEPTIOK 133 living, growing mental entity, and not simply as an intel- lectual coin which is legal tender in all markets. Relations of Concepts: Genus and Species. — Class con- cepts as such have certain properties and relations, a clear apprehension of which is very important to the educator. Of these relations, the first to be considered is that of Genus and Species. If, in several kindred concepts, as corn^ lulieat^ rice^ we should carry the process of abstrac- tion still farther and discard some of the specific attributes of each, we could combine them all into one larger class called cereals. This new class is genus to all the others which it includes, while each of them is species to the genus. A genus is a class luhich may he divided into smaller classes called species. A species is one of the classes formed hg the division of a genus. This division or separation is effected by the addition of one or more essential attributes in the case of each species. Thus, to the essential qualities of cereal^ in the example above, we add, to form the concept cor7i^ that particular quality which distinguishes it from all other grains. This attribute is called its specific difference. Thus the word cart represents a species of the genus vehicle; its specific difference being "two-wheeled," which marks off all carts from other vehicles. The number of species which can be formed from any concept taken as genus is limited only by the number of distinctive attributes, or differenticB^ which may be abstracted and added, in turn, to the essential attributes of the genus. While concepts may thus be said to include others as their species, they do not bear to each other the relation of whole arid part. That is a relation existing only between individuals. A particular limb is a part of a 134 THE THEORY OF TEACHING tree; but the concept limb is not a part of the concept tree ; it represents all limbs of all trees. Mexico is a part of North America, both being individuals. Intension and Extension. — Every class concept may be considered from two points of view, (1) That of the common attributes which inhere in it and constitute its meaning, (2) That of the number of individuals comprised under it, in the class which it represents. This latter aspect constitutes what is called the Extension, or Denota- tion, of the concept. The first named aspect constitutes the Intension, or Connotation, of the concept. Together they constitute the breadth and dei)th of the idea. Thus, if we compare the concepts animal and vertebrate we shall see that animal comprises a greater number of individuals than vertebrate; it has greater extension. On the other hand, vertebrate has at least one distinctive quality, backbone, which is not possessed by all animals. Verte- brate has, therefore, greater intension than animal. Extension is tliat aspect or attribute of concepts which has reference to the iiumher of individuals comprised. Intension is that aspect of concepts ivhich relates to the essential attributes of the concept. The intension of a concept is, in a sense, its significance, or meaning. The broadest or most extensive of all concepts, called by logicians the siunmum genus^ is that of being (thing), which has but one attribute, that of existence, for which reason it comprises an infinite number of individuals. It has the maximum of extension and the minimum of intension. This inverse ratio of extension to intension prevails with all concepts; every addition of a required attribute cuts down the number of individuals possessing all the requirements. Whereas, the removal of any attribute as essential enlarges at once the bounds of the concept. CONCEPTION 135 Concepts in Series. — This connection of concepts with one another in series, under the relation of genus and species, is exhibited in the following outline: Concepts. Attributes. SuMMUM Genus — Being — Existence. Matter Existence+ weight, etc. Organic Matter . . Existence-!- weight-|-life. Animal Existence-}- weigh t-|-Hfe -|- motion, etc. Vertebrate Existence-j-weight-j-life -j- motion + back- bone. Mammal Existence-j-weight-j-life -\- motion -|- back- bone-!- suckling Man Existence-f-weight-f-life -f- motion -{- back- bone-f-suckling-f-language. Caucasian Existence-f-weight-f-life -|- motion -|- back- bone-f-suckling-{-language-}- white, etc. Teuton, etc. Infima Species, the smallest possible class of men of the Teu- tonic genus. Individual, Bismarck. The summum. genus has only one attribute, but infinite extension. The individual (which is not a concept) has its extension numerically expressed by one, but has an indefinite number of attributes; its intension is great. Each of the subaltern genera is genus to all below it in the series, but is species to all abov^e it. The summum genus can never be species ; and the infima species can never be genus, being incapable of division into smaller classes. This logical relation of genus and species between class concepts is one of the utmost importance, lying at the bottom of all scientific classification and essential to all intelligent comprehension of the universe. Summary. — In distinction from the presentative and represent- ative powers which yield only individual notions, Conception, Judgment, and Reasoning are known as the Thought Powers. These have to do with general notions and the relations between them. Conception is the process of which concepts are the product. 136 THE THEORY OF TEACHING Concepts are general notions, or ideas, of which we distinguish two kinds, class concepts and abstract notions. Class concepts are represented in language by common nouns; abstract notions, by abstract nouns. The process of conception comprises four steps, viz., Comparison, Abstraction, Generalization, and Denomination. Abstraction is the separating off, for closer attention, of the common qualities of individual objects. Generalization is the grouping into classes of objects on the basis of common qualities. Abstract notions are our ideas of single qualities considered apart from the objects to which they belong. Concepts are not fixed or constant products, but are always in the process of growth. Class concepts bear to each other the relation of genus and species. A genus is a class which may be divided into smaller classes called species; a species is one of the smaller classes formed by the subdivision of a genus. Concepts have the attributes of Extension and Intension. Ex- tension has reference to the number of individuals comprised; intension to the essential attributes of the concept. CHAPTER XXI DEFINITION AND DIVISION Definition, — There are two ways by which the applica- tion of a general term may be unfolded, (1) Through its Intension, (2) By reference to its Extension. An accurate setting forth of the essential attributes of a concept is called Definition. A definition is a statement of the intension of a concept; hence definition pertains only to concepts, or general notions. We describe individuals; we define concepts. As its etymology indicates (from fines^ boundaries) , the purpose of definition is both inclu- sive and exclusive. A proper definition shuts out from the class all individuals which do not belong to it and includes all that do, like a pasture fence. It need hardly be said, however, that much which passes as definition is very loose and inadequate. The Structure of a Defi7iition. — Since a complete enu- meration of all the attributes of a given concept would often be laborious and tedious, we economize time and effort by the device of first naming the proximate genus of the concept under definition and then adding its specific difference, or differentia; namely, the quality or qualities which differentiate it from other species of that genus. Thus we define chair as "a movable seat" (genus), and proceed to add its differentia, ''with a back and designed for one person." Definition is a difficult process, and its difficulty lies in the accurate performance of the ac't of abstraction, in 137 138 THE THEORY OF TEACHING determining precisely what are the essential common qualities of the concept defined. For the same reason, it is a valuable exercise, when properly directed, as a disci- pline in analysis and exact thinking. But the mere "par- roting" of definitions, learning them by rote without clear comprehension of their exact force and application, may prove an illusory and injurious labor. All framing of exact, scientific definitions involves a careful adherence to the following Rides of Definition. — (1) A definition should comprise all and only the essential attributes of the concept defined. (2) It should not contain the term defined nor any of its derivatives. (3) It should not be expressed in obscure, ambiguous, or figurative language. (4) It should not be negative in form when it can be affirmative. It will be noted, however, that some words are merely negations, being formed from others by the use of a nega- tive prefix, as unsound, nonessential, etc. A caution needs to be given also against the use of what might be called "double-barreled" definitions. For instance, the old grammar-books defined verb as "a word used to denote being, action, or state." Here is a thoroughly ambiguous statement, applying to no one class of words but to three. The process of abstraction was not carried to the point of determining the one essential attribute of all verbs, namely, the power, or function, of asserting. Nouns may "denote action, being, or state" as truly as verbs. Such ambiguous and confusing definitions work serious harm in the minds of young learners. Exercise in ApjjJying the Rules of Definition. — Let the pupil now determine which of the above rules are violated by the following attempts at definition, viz. : DEFINITIOI^ AND DIVISION 139 ** Sunday is the golden clasp that binds the volume of the week." "Life is the act of living." "Life is the sum of all the vital functions." "Words are the articulate signs by which an orator expresses his ideas." "Words are signs of ideas." "Evil is that which is not good." "Deity is the circle whose center is everywhere and whose circumference is nowhere." It will be observed that they are correct in form or structure. Let the class now make a careful effort to frame true definitions for the following words, observing the rules above given: chaise^ watch, oaTc, liorse, string, arithmetic, hook, church, adjective, and others. Logical Division. — A second mode of unfolding the application of general terms is that by reference to their extension. For instance, a young child hearing the word animal will demand to know its application. The method of definition, involving the use of abstract terms, is not adapted to the infantile stage of development, and cannot be successfully employed. We may point the child to. various individual animals, saying, ''''That is an animal, and that is an animal," and so on. This method, by par- ticular instances, will serve a temporary purpose excel- lently; but, of course, it can never attain completeness of result. With a child a little older, instead of pointing out indi- viduals, we may abridge the process by citing familiar species of animal, thus, "Dogs are animals, cats are animals, chickens are animals," and so on. This method, the opposite of definition, is called Division, or more definitely, Logical Division. ''■Logical Division is the 140 THE THEORY OJb^ TEACHING enumeration of the constituent sj^ecies of a proximate genus.'''' The sign of this kind of division is the brace, •< . Division is an essential factor in all the classifications and systemizations of the natural sciences. The most elabo- rate and complete instance of it, perhaps, is found in the Botanical "Key." Certain rules which must be observed in division are as follows : Rules for Division. — (1) The constituent species must exclude each, other (must not overlap). (2) The division must be made, throughout, on one basis or principle. (3) The species, taken together, must equal the genus divided. Let the pupil now divide the concepts 7nan^ triangle^ leaf, etc., paying due heed to the rules above given. Summary. — The application of a general term may be unfolded by reference to its intension or its extension. The first method is called definition; the latter, division. A definition is a statement of the intension of a concept. In constructing a definition, we first state the genus under which the concept belongs and then its specific difference There are four rules which must be observed in all exact definition. Logical division is the enumeration of the constituent species of a proximate genus. Certain definite rules must also be observed in the division of a genus into species. CHAPTER XXII JUDGMENT What toe Mean by Judgment. — Concepts arise, as we have seen, from the comparison, analysis, and generaliza- tion of images and percepts. Next in order of complex- ity among mental operations, we come to the comparison of ideas and discernment of their relations. The me7ital affirmation of agreement or disagreement hetiveen ideas is called a judgment. The term Judgment is also applied to the power and the act of making such mental affirma- tions ; it is the second stage in Thinking. The language in which a judgment is expressed is called a proposition, or a (simple) sentence. Judgments are thoughts; they bear the same relation to ideas that sentences do to words. *'A word is the sign of an idea"; "A sentence is a thought expressed in words," we are told in the grammar- book. The forming of a judgment seems, at first thought, a simple matter, just the yoking of ideas together in pairs; but, in fact, it proves to be the supreme effort of the mind. All other mental processes exist in order that we may form judgments. And the validity of our judgments depends upon the clearness and soundness with which we discern the true relations of ideas. 141 142 *riIE THEORY OF TEACHING Tlie Essential Farts, or Elements, of a Judgment. — The essential parts, or elements, of a proposition, are three, the subject^ ])redicate, and copula. The copula, as the name implies, is the coupling or connecting word, whose oflico is to assert the relation between subject and predicate. In many — perhaps the majority — of propositions, how- ever, the copula and predicate are merged into one word — *' telescoped," as it were. Thus, instead of saying "Fishes are swimmers," we say "Fishes swim." When the copula is separately expressed, it is the verb, or asserting word of the sentence; and the predicate word is always a noun or an adjective, as in "Crows are cunning," "Whales are mammals." But when copula and predicate are combined in one word, that word is a verb, as in "Dogs growl." The copula is either some form of the verb to he or of words which assert some hypothetical mode of existence, as seem, appear, feel, looh, sound, taste, smell. "It seems heavy" means it is heavy to appearance; "It tastes good" means it is good to the taste. The subject of a proposi- tion is always a substantive. Nature of the Predicate Idea. — The subject idea may be either a percept, image, or concept; but, in general, the predicate idea must be a concept, as in "This dog is a collie," "The dog we saw yesterday is a spaniel," "All dogs are vertebrates." The predicate, moreover, is always, whether represented by noun or adjective, a more extensive, or broader, idea than the subject; it includes the subject, as in the examples given above. Thinking has been defined as "subsuming subjects under predicates," and this definition at least emphasizes a thought of importance from the pedagogical standpoint. This gen- eral relation of subject to predicate has been well exhibited by what is known as Euler's Notation, in which circles are employed to indicate the relative extension. JUDGMENT 143 Suo^ar is sweet. Horses are useful. Birds fly. An important exception must be noted, however, to the rule that the predicate includes the subject. In such judgments as "That boy's name is John," "Two times two are four," "A right line is a straight line," '■^Mercator means merchant," the subject and predicate coincide, or have exactly the same extension. These may be called judgments of identity. In mathematics, they are called equations. Classification of Judgments. — Judgments are divided into classes on several bases, or principles, namely, ,_,.. ,. ,^ ,., (Affirmative. (l)Accordrag to Quality I ^^^^y^^ A negative judgment affirms disagreement instead of agreement between the ideas compared, as "Some roses are not fragrant." [ Singular. (2) According to Quantity -< Particular. ( Universal, or General. By quantity is meant the quantity, or extension, of the subject. A Singular judgment is one whose subject is a single individual, as "Theodore Roosevelt is president," "That boy threw the stone." 144 THE THEORY OF TEACHING A General, or Universal, judgment is one whose subject is a whole class, an unbroken concept, as "Horses eat grass," "All men are mortal," "No man desires pain." A Particular judgment is one whose subject is some part of a class, a broken concept, as "Some days are stormy," "Some fishes have no scales," "Most men love money." This classification of judgments is of more importance to the teacher than any other, through its relation to method. ... ,. . p. ■ - \ Dii*ect, Immediate, Intuitive. ( Indirect, Mediate, Reasoned. A Direct, or Intuitive, judgment, as its name implies, is one which is arrived at instantly, without any labored process of deliberation or reasoning, as "This day is cold," "I am hungry," "Things equal to the same thing are equal to each other." A Mediate, or Reasoned, judgment is one which is derived from other judgments by a process of comparison and reasoning, as "Eggs will be dear next January," "Ice is a mineral substance," "All particles of matter attract each other." The word intuitive is derived from the Latin intueo7\ to behold directly. Intuition thus means a direct behold- ing. Intuitions have been distinguished as (1) Sense Intuitions, or perceptive judgments. (2) Rational Intui- tions, axioms, as "The whole is equal to the sum of all its parts." (3) Moral Intuitions, as the universal apprehen- sion of moral distinction between acts, the conviction that there is a right and a wrong in human conduct. Logicians have also classified judgments as Analytic and Synthetic; but this distinction has no pedagogical value, amounting only to a distinction between old and JUDGMENT 145 new judgments. The same judgment may thus be ana- lytic to one mind and synthetic to another. Again, judgments may be classified as Categorical and Hypothetical. A categorical judgment is one that is affirmed unconditionally; it is definite and unqualified, as "Freedom is a necessary condition of well-being." A hypothetical judgment is one that affirms a relation conditionally, as "If a man is free, he should be happy." An Exercise in Classification of Judgments.— 1\\ order to impress and clarify the distinctions recognized in the last lesson, let the pupil classify according to each of the three specified bases, or principles, the following judg- ments, viz. : 1. Some violets are not odorous. 2. Unsupported bodies fall to the earth. 3. No seaweed is a flowering plant. 4. This day is cold. 0. Material bodies have weight. 6. The moon shines by borrowed light. 7. Dynamite is dangerous. 8. Boys are often lazy. 9. Some men are ruined by riches. 10. The proper study of mankind is man. Elder's Notation further Illustrated. — AYe may now profitably make some further exemplification of Euler's Notation as applied to different kinds of judgments. In general judgments, as already seen, the subject circle lies wholly within the predicate circle, as in "All men are mortaL" 146 THE THEORY OF TEACHING With particular judgments the circles will intersect, as in *'Some grapes are sweet." ( ''^^(%)eet J The same diagram will fit the negative judgment, **Some grapes are not sweet. ' ' es With universal negative judgments, however, the circles will exclude each other, as in "Ferns are not flowering plants. ' ' In judgments of identity the circles will coincide, as in "Quadrupeds are four-footed." In singular judgments the subject would be represented by a point instead of a circle, as in JUDGMENT 147 '* Bismarck was a statesman." Indistinct Judgments; tlieir Causes. — The value of a judgment depends mainly upon its clearness. The bane of human thinking is not so much mistaken as vague and confused judgments; and this is nowhere truer than in the work of the schools. Education has been a failure with thousands of youths because they have not attained to clear judgments at each step in the subjects which they were supposed to be learning. The causes of indistinct judgment should be clearly recognized, that they may be duly guarded against. They are: (1) Imperfect Perception, as when one wrongly judges the height of a silk hat, the length of a horse's head, the circumference of a tree, or the width of a wagon track. (2) Imperfect or Fading Memory, as when one mistakes concerning the facts of his past experience or of history. (3) Imperfect Conception, which is the most pervasive and insurmountable obstacle to clear judgment. For illustration, place before the pupil such judgments as "Arson is venial," "Penuriousness is a vice," and ask him to take a positive stand, with reasons, as to their truth. If he has not clear concepts for both subject and predicate, he is not qualified to form any clear judgment as to their relation, and will so confess. (4) The Intrusion of Feeling. An angry man's judg- ment is proverbially valueless. Men in a burning building do the most irrational things in their excitement. Our judgment as to future events is colored by our intensa desires. We talk of our judgment as cool^ calm^ when we 148 THE THEORY OF TEACHING wish to command confidence in it. When feelings are habitual, chronic, so to speak, we suffer from the bias of Judgment known as 2)rcjudice. (5) Taking Judgments at second-hand. This is illus- trated in the political and religious judgments of most young people, to say nothing of older ones. The opinions of parents are apt to be adopted without question and without clear comprehension. The books and newspapers of the home add to this effect, since they naturally har- monize with the parental beliefs. But a more serious effect' of this cause is found in the work of the school- room. The hazy, unusable body of indistinct judgments which the average pupil carries away from the school are the natural result of so much text-book work, with its acceptance of second-hand judgments on authority and so little efficient use of his own powers of observation. Relation of Judgment to Other Mental Pi^ocesses. — While, from, the standpoint of the logician, judgment is rated as one of the higher powers of the mind, ranking above memory, imagination, and conception, the psychol- ogist finds it parallel with and indeed entering into all the other activities. Thus in the act of perception, which consists in the interpretation of sensations, we found inference to be one of the steps in the process. We judge the given sensation to be due to a certain cause, as when we refer a given sound to a steam whistle rather than to the milkman's horn. The act of inference in such a case is not necessarily a formal judgment, with its terms dis- tinctly expressed. It is implicit rather than explicit, a judgment folded in the bud rather than in full bloom. So also in memory, there is an implicit, rudimentary judgment of identity, of recognition; and in creative imagination there is a judgment of fitness, the fitness of dissociated elements to enter into the new combination. JUDGMENT 149 Relation of Judgment to Conception. — While judgment. in one sense, is based on conception and consists in the relating of concepts, it is, on the other hand, an essential part of the act of concept-forming. Reciprocity is the jaw of their action. Each process is dependent on the other; no judgments without concepts, no concepts with- out judgment. The question of which comes first, concep- tion or judgment, is much like the old puzzle, "Which was first, the chicken or the Qg^V' a question which has found its answer in the theory of evolution. Perception, conception, and judgment mount together in a spiral course. The great difficulty which most obstructs clear judg- ment is the difficulty of close and accurate analysis, the difficulty of accurate abstraction. For such analysis is the vital thing in clear conception, and consequently in correct judgment. But this analysis, again, is only one form of critical judgment. Summary. — The mental affirmation of agreement or disagree- ment between ideas is called a judgment. The term is also apphed to the mind's power to make such affirmations. The essential parts of a judgment are the subject, predicate, and copula, but predicate and copula are often combined in one. In general, the predicate idea is a concept and includes the subject, except in equations, or judgments of identity. Judgments are divided on different bases, as quality, quantity, origin, etc. The most important distinction to the teacher is that between particular and general judgments. The bane of human thinking is found in vague, indistinct judgments. The causes of indistinct judgments are, (1) Imperfect perception, (2) Fading memory, (3) Imperfect conception, (4) Intrusion of feeling, and (5) Taking judgments at second- hand. Judgment enters into all the other activities of mind, being involved implicitly in perception and memory as well as imagina- tion and conception. Perception, conception, and judgment rise together by mental interaction. CHAPTER XXIII REASONING Reasoning. — In the preceding chapter, we observed that while some judgments are formed with apparent direct- ness, or immediacy, others are arrived at through a process of analysis and inference. This process of deriving new judgments from those previously accepted is called Eeasoning. As judgment involves a comparison of concepts, so reasoning involves a comparison or relating of judgments. It is thus, in point of complexity and elaboration, the highest of the mental processes. The unit of reasoning, the single process by which a new judgment is reached, is called an argument^ and the resulting judgment the conclusion. The Syllogism. — The simplest form of argument, so far as ease of explanation is concerned, is called the Syllogism. It comprises three judgments, the conclusion and two others called ^jremises, as. All explosives are dangerous. Dynamite is an explosive. Therefore, dynamite is dangerous. It will be noticed that this syllogism contains but three ideas, or concepts, which are called its terms. The one of these having the greatest extension is "dangerous," which is therefore called the major ter'm. The one hav- ing least extension is "dynamite," the minor ter?n. The other concept, "explosives," midway between the others 150 REASONING 151 in point of breadth, or extension, is appropriately called the middle term. The premise containing the major term is called the major iiremise; the one containing the minor term, the minor prem,ise. It will be noted that the middle term appears in both premises, but not in the conclusion. It serves as a sort of yardstick, or standard, with which the major and minor terms are successively compared. While it may seem the natural order of propositions to state the major premise first and the conclusion last, this order of arrangement is not essential. The three propo- sitions may be stated in any order by varying the con- nective, thus, Methuselah is mortal Because Methuselah is a man, And all men are mortal. Indeed, in practice, it is common to first announce the conclusion as a proposition to be proved, or established. There are many forms or "modes" of the syllogism; but the consideration of these belongs to formal Logic. (Let the pupils he practiced here in the construction of syllogisms. ) Essential Characteristics of Deductive Reasoning. — The foundation of tho syllogistic argument lies in the major premise, which is always a broad, general judgment, or proposition. The minor premise may be either a general, a particular, or a singular judgment; but, in any case, it must be less general than the major premise. The same is true of the conclusion. It is thus said that syllogistic reasoning proceeds from the general to the particular; and this is its essential characteristic. As the conclusion is involved in the major premise, and is deduced, or drawn, from it by aid of the middle term, this mode of argument is also called Deductive Eeasoning. 152 THE THEORY OF TEACHING Tlie Dangers of Deductive Reasoning. — The conclusive- ness of deductive argument depends, in the first place, on the truth of the premises. True conclusions cannot be derJved from untrue premises. It depends, in the second place, on the correctness or legitimacy of the reasoning process. Logicians have developed many formal rules governing this process. Different forms of, or liabilities to, error arising from neglect of these rules are called fallacies. We can note here only one of these, "the fallacy of the undistributed middle," of which the follow- ing is the classic example : The wise are good. Some ignorant people are good. Therefore, some ignorant people are wise. This, as it stands, is a syllogism only in form; because the middle term, "good," is not distributed, or taken in a universal sense, it being one of the laws of the syllogism that the middle term must be thus taken in at least one of the premises. If we obey this, by placing the word "all" or "the only" before "good" in the major premise, the syllogism becomes a valid one, and its conclusion true if the premise is true. We have in the above also an illustration of the mischief of ambiguity in the use of terms. Thus the word "wise" may be taken in either of two senses, its true sense or that of learned. If the wise were only the learned, then the major premise would be untrue and the minor premise nonsense. Whereas, if "wise" be taken in its proper signification and the middle term be duly "distributed," we have a valid argument and a true conclusion. . Doubt- less half of all the failure among disputants to reach com- mon conclusions is due to ambiguity, or the use of the same terms in different senses, consciously or uncon- sciously. REASONING 153 Demonstrative Reasoning. — Mathematical reasoning, because of the absolute conclusiveness of its results, is also called Demonstrative Reasoning. It is wholly of the deductive type, proceeding "from the general to the par- ticular." This is best exemplified in geometrical reason- ing, which starts from broad generalizations, as definitions and axioms, and in its progress descends to narrower and narrower propositions or theorems. But even in the ear- liest and simplest theorems the demonstration involves the use of several syllogisms. Take, for example, the theorem : ''If two straight lines intersect, the vertical angles are equal." Syllogism Syllogism 2\ Syllogism 3 The conclusion to be reached is that La is equal to Lc. !L a is equal to Lc, because L a + L b is equal to L b -}- L c, and Equals from equals leave equals, f L a -|- Lb equals L b + L c, because Each equals two right angles, and Things equal to the same thing are equal to each [ other. TL a -{- L b and L b -f L c are each equal to two right angles, because I They each comprise all the angular magnitude on '] one side of a straight line, and I All the angular magnitude on one side of a l^ straight line equals two right angles. And yet a fourth syllogism is really necessary to estab- lish the proposition that all the angular magnitude on one side of a straight line is equal to two right angles. It will be remembered that in Geometry the "theorem" is always a conclusion, from which we work back to the premises supporting it. The natural order of the syl- logism is therefore reversed in the above examples. 154 THE THEORY OP TEACHING Why Mathematical Reasoning is so Certain in its Results. — The question arises why mathematical reason- ing is more certain in its results than other forms of reasoning. The answer is found in the fact that its data are subjective, given by the mind and not sought for in the outer world. It starts from axioms, which are self- evident and absolute, and from definitions which are assumed at the outset, in an unchangeable form. The geometrician makes his own definitions in the beginning and then holds to them consistently. It is this fixed and absolutely definite character of the premises of mathe- matics which yields the certainty in its results. Other forms of deductive reasoning yield only relative certainty in the conclusions reached. The Major Premise May Not he Exjjressed. — The fact should be recognized that deductive reasoning, in ordinary use, does not always conform to the regular, typical forms of the syllogism. As already indicated, the order of propo- sitions maybe varied at will; audit often happens that the major premise is a judgment so well known and generally accepted as not to need formal statement. But all deduc- tive reasoning can be reduced, when made formal and explicit, to some of the modes of syllogism. INDUCTION How do toe Co?ne by General Judgments^ — As we have seen, deduction starts from universal judgments. The question arises. Whence come these general judgments? How does deductive reasoning come by its major prem- ises? How does any mind become competent to assert propositions of such breadth? The child is not thus qualified. From the limitations of his narrow experience he is restricted to the use of singular and particular judg- ments; he can affirm only concerning small fragments of REASONING 155 the universe. Even when experience widens, his condi- tions remain approximately the same. How can a finite mind ever gain confidence to affirm universal truths? How can I declare that "all men are mortal," or that "all lemons are yellow," since I have had no experience of all the possibilities in either case? How can I feel sure that some future Stanley may not, in the Philippine Jungles or elsewhere, discover a blae species of lemon, or that Professor Loeb may not yet discover the elixir of youth? We come, here, to the recognition of a principle or tendency of the human mind to be convinced by limited, and often inadequate, evidence — the faith prin- ciple, in fact. Through the operation of this, we are able to reach general conclusions of widely varying breadth by a process known as Induction, or Inductive Reasoning. The Inductive Process. — The typical procedure in this form of argumentation may be illustrated by the following sample : This lemon is yellow. That lemon is yellow. Those lemons are yellow. All the lemons I ever saw were yellow. All the lemons I ever heard of were yellow. Therefore, all lemons are yellow. Here we begin with singular judgments, of indefinite number, and pass on to particular judgments, limited still by our own experience or that of others concerning which we have satisfactory testimony. But when we have accumulated all available experience and testimony, there is still a gap between that knowledge and univer- sality. By means of the faith principle already recog- nized, the mind leaps that gap and attains to at least a 156 THE THEORY OF TEACHIN"G working belief in the general conclusion, '*A11 lemons are yellow. " Now in what is that faith reposed? The answer is, "In the uniformity of nature," which is more accurately stated in the formula, "Like causes produce like results." "Nature" is often guilty of "freaks," like two-headed calves ; nevertheless we continue to trust in her consistency. The Essential Characteristics of Induction, — The term induction has been used by logicians to denote this leap of the mind from the limitations of its positive knowledge to belief in universal laws. In pedagogy, however, the term is applied to the whole process of arriving at general truths, or principles. This process is, in fact, closely similar to that of conception — so similar, indeed, that some writers confound the two. Both processes begin with the consideration and com- parison of particulars or facts; of individuals in the one case, of singular and particular judgments in the other case. Both culminate in generalization, the one result being expressed in a general term, the other in a general proposition. The distinctive characteristic of inductive reasoning, then, is that it proceeds "from the particular to the gen- eral," from the narrow judgments of individual experi- ence to the broad ones which form the basis and the body of science, and furnish the premises of deductive reasoning. It must be recognized, moreover, that inductive reason- ing can never, like demonstrative reasoning, give absolute certainty in its conclusions; but it does yield ^;?or«/ cer- tainty, a degree of certainty which serves for the guid- ance of conduct in the affairs of life. Early Use of Inductive Reasoning. — The child, by force of his very nature and circumstances, employs inductive REASONiN(i 157 reasoning; but as soon as experience and testimony have furnished him a small stock of general judgments, he begins to use them as premises for deductive conclusions. This, however, is an activity which ought not to be forced, and especially one which ought not to be simu- lated. To require young pupils to go through the forms of syllogistic reasoning without any clear comprehension of the terms contained in the premises is a stultifying process. The instinctive tendency of the mind to *'jump to con- clusions," to exercise the faith principle, is so great that much error and harm result from hasty induction^ the making of generalizations on insufficient foundation. The old adage, "One swallow doesn't make a summer," is directed against this mischievous practice. Children are naturally very much in danger of drawing hasty gen-, eral conclusions from their limited experience; they are naturally credulous, and need to be taught the attitude of caution in both thought and statement. Reasoning ly Analogy. — There is a third method of reasoning, known as Reasoning by Analogy. Like induc- tion, it starts from singular judgments, but, unlike induction, it ends also with singular judgments. It is therefore of much less value for either practical or scien- tific purposes. A good example of this form runs as follows : I The Earth is a planet; Mars is a planet. The Earth has land and water; Mars has land and water. The Earth has an atmosphere; Mars has an atmosphere. The Earth is inhabited; therefore Mars is probably inhabited. This argument, it will be observed, contains nothing but singular judgments, and reaches no certainty in its conclusions. Since Mars and Earth resemble each other in some particulars, it is more or less probable that they 158 THE THEORY OF TEACHING resemble each other in this other particular of being inhabited. No general judgment is reached. Eeasoning by analogy, thus, "proceeds from particulars to particu- lars," and should not be confused, as it sometimes is, with hasty induction, which always aims at general con- clusions. Take this example : A little child has, one day, been knocked over by a big but friendly dog and fright- ened. On a succeeding day, it sees another big dog and is frightened. It reasons, "That other big dog knocked me over; this big dog will probably knock me over." Whatever of reasoning is done by animals is undoubtedly of this same sort, from particular cases to like particular cases; though such reasoning would seem to be little more, after all, than simple association of ideas. Analogy also serves a useful purpose with scientific investigators by way of suggesting hypotheses, possible solutions of problems, which may be tested and verified or disproved by other methods. Relation of tlie Several Modes to the Progress of Knowl- edge. — A word may be said concerning the relation of the several modes of reasoning to the increase of knowledge in the individual and the race. It is doubtless clear to the reader already that, while reasoning by analogy has certain important preliminary and tentative uses in paving the way for other methods, the great instrument of prac- tical and scientific discovery is the inductive method. During the ages while this method was neglected by the learned, science made little progress. While the scholars of the world were content to spend their intellectual force in reasoning deductively from premises taken on unverified authority or tradition, with almost no question of their validity, scientific and philosophic results were precarious and illusive. Only with the recognition and predominance of the inductive method did real science become possible. REASOKIKG 159 The question has been much discussed whether deduc- tive reasoning ever adds anything to the sum of knowl- edge. It is said that since it starts from general truths already established, it can bring forth no conclusions which are not already contained in the premises. This is, in a sense, true. But it is also true that we seldom realize at first the full force and application of general principles. It is the office of deductive reasoning to unfold the implications of general truths, or laws, and thus make them fruitful in the affairs of life. Summary. — Reasoning is the process of deriving new judgments by the comparison and relating of those previously accepted. That form of argument known as the syllogism comprises three judgments, two premises and the conclusion. It contains only three concepts, the major, minor, and middle terms. Syllogistic, or deductive, reasoning starts from broad, general judgments, called major premises, and descends to conclusions less general in scope; it proceeds from generals to particulars. The safety of deductive reasoning depends on the truth of the premises and the avoidance of ambiguity in the terms and of fallacies in the reasoning process. Demonstrative, or mathematical, reasoning is wholly of the deductive type, and is characterized by the certainty of its results. No other form of reasoning gives absolute certainty in its conclu- sions. The general judgments from which deductive reasoning starts are reached by a process known as inductive reasoning. Start- ing with particular judgments derived from experience and testi- mony, the mind, relying on the uniformity of nature, makes the leap to a general conclusion. Inductive reasoning thus proceeds from particulars to gen- erals. It is the method which must of necessity be used in early years. A danger to be avoided is that of hasty induction. Reasoning by analogy somewhat resembles inductive reason- ing. It proceeds from particulars to particulars, reaching no general conclusions. The inductive method of reasoning is the great instrument of scientific progress and the increase of knowledge. 160 THE THEORY OF TEACHING Deductive reasoning unfolds the content and implications of general rules and principles, thus making them practically valu- able. Deductive ( Demonstrative ) Gives absolute cer- (From generals to < (Mathematical) f tainty. particulars.) ( Probable — Gives relative certainty. Inductive ) Inductive 1 (From particulars >■ Probable — Gives moral certainty, to generals.) ) By Analogy j (From particulars >• Possible — Gives more or less proba- to particulars.) ) bility. CHAPTER XXIV LANGUAGE What Language Is. — The final step in the process of conception we found to be that of Denomination, or the fitting of ideas with names. At this point, Psychology cpmes into contact with the problems of Language. What is language? When we attempt to define it we come at once upon the question of whether the term shall be held to include the expression of emotion as well as of thought. In the strictest sense, language consists of articulate sounds used as signs of ideas. In the widest sense, language is any means employed in the expression of thought or feeling. More or less confusion results from the ambiguous use of the term. It is well, there- fore, to recognize that there is a language of thought, confined in the first place to articulate words and after- wards represented by visible symbols, and also a language of feeling, employing primarily a variety of sounds and muscular movements of a more primitive and instinctive character than the signs of thought. Division of Language. — Taking language under its broadest and loosest definition, the following division, or classification, has been proposed, viz. : r ( Cries, laughter, sighing, etc. ] Absolute \ Gestures — facial and otherwise. Lan- guage Natural 1 ( Inflections. Artificial (^Conventional — Speech. !■ Painting, drawing, etc. Sculpture. Music. Writing, in all forms. Conventional 161 ! Telegraphic alphabets. Deaf-mute alphabets. Signahngby lights, etc. Emblems S Religious, \ Masonic, etc. 162 THE THEOKY OF TEACHING *' Artificial" is to be taken as meaning of human inven- tion, while "natural" means instinctive, arising naturally on due occasion. "Absolute" language is that which needs not to be taught or learned, but is universally intelli- gible. An American traveler without acquaintance with the languages of the countries through which he passed, remarked, self -consolingly, that wherever he went "the people all laughed in English." Conventional language is that used by common con- sent, this convention or usage varying with locality and race. An Englishman remarked, on returning from Paris, "How remarkable that the French call bread pain — very singular, you know." "But," was the answer, "why should they not call it jfj»«/yi as rightfully as we call it bread?" "Aw! because it is bread, you know." He could not realize that English was not an absolute instead of a conventional language. A little reflection will show that the "absolute" lan- guage of the foregoing classification is mainly, if not wholly, the language of emotion. Laughter, crying, gestures, and simple exclamations are all signs of feeling. Music, also, must be recognized as a language of feeling only, for it is in no sense an expression of intelligible thought. Tiie Language of Animals. — Here, also, we encounter the problem of the language of animals. Have animals any language in the strict sense of the term? We must concede at once that they have the language of feeling, natural signs by which they express their desires, ani- mosities, etc. The snarl of a vicious dog is a sample of absolute language, translatable by all concerned. The call of a bird to its mate is also an emotional sign, though less universal in its intelligibility. But the further question, "Have animals a language of LANGUAGE 163 thought, a system of signs for communicating ideas?" is less easy of determination. Its answer involves an answer to the kindred question, "Can animals think?" and this, again, depends on our definition of tliinMng. We have taken thinking to involve the use of general notions as predicates. If we hold to this view, that thinking is im- possible without concepts, then we must say that animals do not think, and consequently have no language of ideas. If, on the other hand, we broaden the term thinking so as to include the procession of images under the laws of asso- ciation of ideas, we must undoubtedly allow that, iii that sense, some animals can think. If a dog guilty of robbing hens' nests be punished by whipping at the nest, or by breaking hot eggs in his mouth, he will fight shy of eggs and nests thereafter. The sight of either will suggest under the law of contiguity the pain of punishment and a restraining fear. But there is not the slightest reason to believe that he can communicate the image or the fear to another dog. The question whether animals lack language because they are unable to form general notions, or lack concepts because they have no words in which to embody them, is more interesting than answerable. Can We Think witlioiit Words? — Turning from animals to men, let us examine briefly the relation of words to ideas. Are words the mere vesture of thought, of which it may divest itself upon occasion? Can we think without words? The answer to this question will be found in the attempt. We adult persons, however much we try, cannot think except in words; but may that not be merely a result of habit? What is the case with deaf-mutes before they are taught any form of language, or with children before they learn to talk? This question has been elabo- rately argued on both sides. Max Mueller, the eminent 164 THE THEORY OF TEACHING philologist, contending with great insistence that lan- guage and thought are, in a sense, identical; that there can be no real thinking without some kind of words. Of course, he considers any symbol of an idea, as the manual signs used by deaf-mutes, to be a word. The writer of this inclines to a view which may be expressed in the figure that words are the sJcijis, not the garments, of ideas, and that ideas (concepts) are born with their skins on. Upon this all must agree, that if any thinking is possible without words, the amount of it is very small and the scope of it very limited. And it would also seem a safe judgment that nothing more than the recall of images, the so-called associational thinking, present also in the higher animals, is possible without words. In short, language, in the restricted sense of signs of ideas, is the distinctive characteristic which sep- arates man from the animals. The declaration, "I know, but I cannot tell," is thus seen to be without any validity. What the person saying it means is that he has some vague, undefined notion about the subject, but nothing that amounts to real knowledge. AVhat one truly knows, at the present time, he can tell. Specific Relations of Words to Ideas. — Following further this topic of the relations of words to ideas, we come into the field of Grammar, which classifies words according to the kinds of ideas which they represent, somewhat as follows : (1) Name-words, which are simple appellations, like tags or labels, used merely to designate. Some of these name classes and are called common nouns; others name single qualities and are called abstract nouns. What are called proper nouns are a distinct and peculiar class of words whose function is to represent individual notions. They are not a result of abstraction or generalization, LANGUAGE 165 but derive their force and value solely from Associa- tion. (2) Words of assertion, copulative verbs, including also words which perform the double office of copula and predicate, the "complete verbs" of the grammar-books. (3) Limiting or qualifying words: (a) Those which limit name-words, adjectives; (b) Those which limit words of assertion, adverbs. (4) Eelation words, known as conjunctions and prepo- sitions, the latter being much more restricted as to the terms of the relation expressed. (5) Pronouns, a peculiar class of words, differing from nouns in being more highly generalized, as in the words they, it. They may be thought of as representing con- cepts in which abstraction is carried to its second power, to borrow a phrase from algebra. This characteristic of pronouns explains the well-known fact that children venture on their use later than on that of any other part of speech. The child long says, "Johnny wants a drink," before using the personal pronoun. The so-called interjections are hardly words at all. They are not signs of ideas, but only of emotion. They beloDg, apparently, to the "absolute" language of the outline given on page 161, whereas true words are "con- ventional." THE USES OE LANGUAGE The function of language is thus much more vital and profound than is realized in the common conception. Some further analysis of the subject, therefore, cannot fail to be of service to ail who practice the teacher's art. The Uses of Language are (1) To think ^?^, — it abbrevi- ates and facilitates the process of thought. Even if it be possible to think, in a limited way, without w/ rds, the 166 THE THEORY OF TEACHING process must be slow and ineffective without the service of words representing abstract and generalized ideas. Consider the abridging, condensing power of such words as million^ army^ animal^ origin^ etc. If one were obliged, by the slow process of ''associational thinking," to reproduce and pass in array all the ants which, one by one, "went to the granary and brought out another grain of corn" in the endless tale of the condemned Oriental wife, or to image each individual soldier of an army before issuing a command, he would indeed realize that *'art is long and time is fleeting." It is, in fact, the process of conception which, by its compacting power, makes thought practicable; and language is but the completion of that process. (2) It records the results of thinking; it stores up dis- tinctions^ comparisons^ generalizations^ etc. This state- ment relates not only to written language but primarily to spoken language. Every new idea which reaches completion and definition through the spoken word becomes thereby a part of the intellectual possessions of the race. To illustrate the storing of distinctions, let us suppose the word st^^ike to have meant originally, in the primitive development of mankind, to toiicli with any degree of force. As men began to discriminate between such acts as striking with the fist, the flat hand, the foot, the head, etc., each would demand a separate act of denomination, and the words knocks c?/:^, slap^ kick, hunt, snap, nudge, punch, etc., would come into being as marking and fixing new powers and habits of think- ing. The storing of comparisons, which are the complement of distinctions, is seen in the multitude of words which are wholly relative in their force and application, such as high, low, long, short, heavy, light, old, young, hard, soft. LANGUAGE 167 and so on, ad libitum. A dog is large as compared with a flea, but small as compared with an elephant. A street is long as compared with one's single stride, but short as compared with the equator. Again, all similes and meta- phors are simply comparisons expressed or implied ; and thus every figurative use of a word embodies a compar- ison, as when we call one a hlockhead^ a hard citizen, a slippenj customer, or a square man. Poetry has for its chief staple the embodiment in words of subtle and, to most people, unnoted resemblances. (3) It enables us to analyze complex impressions. Iq the perceiving of objects we take in the whole impression, though it is always more or less complex. One, for instance, sees the Group of Laocoon as a whole, which is, of course, made more definite by attention to each of its details ; but this experience cannot be reported to another as a whole. It must be analyzed and handed over to the listener item by item; even more so in the case of a witnessed action, or event, as a burning house or a street fight. Any piece of description will illustrate this neces- sity under which the narrator analyzes the scene word by word, while the listener, beginning with a vague or frag- mentary image, modifies or completes that image step by step, as each successive word or phrase falls from the lips of the speaker. Turning from a window where I have had an instantaneous view, I may say to those within, "A big black dog jumped over the fence and caught a cat by the neck." Note the necessity which I am under of breaking this simple event up into elements represented by single words, the listeners, each and all, being under a similar necessity of synthesizing, pari passu, that which I have analyzed. For a more interesting example take the opening stanza of Gray's Elegy and trace the gradual synthesis of the picture by the reader. X68 THE THEORY OF TEACHINa " The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The plowman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me." Or this other : " Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds." (4) Lastly, Language is the means of communication. It serves this end because it serves the other ends which have been discussed. But it is important that we dis- cover just what we mean by communication. It is impossible to transfer or convey thought from one mind to another. Thinking is individual and subjective; I can think my own thoughts and. no others. That which is conveyed cannot at the same time be kept by the con- veyor. But to communicate is to make common. The ^'communication" of ideas is possible only through the reciprocal process of analysis- and synthesis described in the last paragraph, and the storing-up process discussed in the paragraph next preceding. Yet the ordinary mind thinks of communication as the only function of lan- guage, and altogether overlooks its more fundamental uses. LIMITATIONS OF LANGUAGE Language has its limitations as well as its uses. "We face one of these in the question, Hoiu far is it possible to communicate ideas through languagef (1) One condi- tion is to be found in an established association between the word and the idea. Words in an unknown tongue communicate nothing to me, because they have no sug- gestive power ; I have no association established between them and the ideas which they embody. The word man- ana may signify nothing to me although the idea is per- LANGUAGE 169 fectly familiar, because I have associated that idea only with the word to-morrow. (2) But there is yet a more fundamental difficulty in the way of unlimited communication. I can by no means excite in the mind of a child the idea of dynamogenesis or metabolism^ because the child's mental experience does not yet furnish the materials out of which to elabo- rate such ideas. We can communicate ideas only so far as the raiu materials already exist in the mind of the learner. If I place before a child the word sporran^ it may mean nothing to him, not merely through lack of association but because he has never yet formed that idea. Let me now proceed to explain to him that a sporran is a pocket, made of fur, suspended from the belt, and forming part of the apparel of a Scotch Highlander, and the idea gradually arises in his mind. The data for its construction are already in his possession. -He follows my analysis with his own synthesis, and the idea becomes common to us. It must be clearly understood, however, that we have not the same image or idea. The listener has his idea and I have mine ; they are similar but never identical, nor even exact duplicates. No two persons ever have exactly the same idea of the same thing. And we can put nothing absolutely new into the mind of another. As Dr. Carpenter puts it, '' Language is an appeal to the ideatiofial consciousness of another.'*^ If that other has not at his command the needful images, which I can call up by this appeal, then I must resort to presen- tation and cause him to get through sense-perception, in some way, the necessary raw materials for constructing those images. Further Limitations of Language.— lAm\i2ii\on^ of a different sort are found m the dangers attending the use of language. 170 THE THEORY OF TEACHIHG (1) First comes the danger which besets all instructors, the danger that ive shall deceive ourselves as to hoiv well ive are understood. The erudite man attempting to talk improvingly to the children in a Sunday-school furnishes a typical example. The college graduate teaching a primary grade is liable to the same pitfalls. The pro- fessor lecturing on chemistry to a class of colored youth at Hampton who was sure that they understood him ^'because they' looked so intelligent/' was nevertheless the victim of appearances. The teacher is under the constant necessity of rightly measuring the actual con- sciousness and inner experience of those whom he attempts to instruct, for he cannot make bricks without straw. (2) Even more serious and more universal is the pupil's danger, the danger that coords may lecome substitutes for ideas. Words, so far from communicating ideas, may actually displace them. The most familiar example is found in the "parroting," or learning without compre- hension, of definitions. Perhaps the danger of this is greater with beginners in the study of grammar than anywhere else. The head of a great school once declared in the presence of the writer that as a boy he memorized the whole grammar-book, so that he could start in any- where and recite the text till stopped, and yet understood practically nothing of what it all signified. Most of us have had a similar experience on a smaller scale. The fact that three teachers out of four, in the sentence, "I saw twenty Indians yesterday," would pronounce Indians to be a proper noun, is a pertinent illustration of the danger in question, IIow many of the children, or adults either, who can glibly recite, " Tell me not in mournful numbers Life is but an empty dream," have a clear or true conception of what is meant by LAN^GUAGE 171 ^'mournful numbers"? The evil does not lie so much in knowing the sound and sight of words not understood as in resting satisfied with the empty form of the word. Such an empty form is not truly a word to the person who uses it, and he deceives himself by supposing that it has some value. It is not an evil thing for a child to memorize *'Thana- topsis" before his experience enables him to fully compre- heud its force. lie will get at least some part of its significance, and, in time, will fill up the words with meaning. And he is not likely to imagine that the words have value farther than they are understood. Neverthe- less, it should be the constant aim of teachers to prevent the formation by children of the habit of resting content with *' words, mere words. '^ Accuracy in Choice of Words. — Certain habits in the use of language are of such importance to the mental life that no teacher can he pardoned for indifference or negli- gence with reference to their instillation. (1) It is not enough that every word should stand for some definite idea, but this should be the correct idea. Accuracy should be the aim not simply in orthography and pronunciation, but still more in meaning. Precision in the choice of words marks the truly cultured person. A loose, slovenly choice of prepositions, for instance, gives sure indication of the half-trained intellect, while the inane overworking of a few adjectives, like awful^ siveet, and lovely, in scorn of all the rich resources of the mother tongue, reveals either the possession of a poverty-stricken vocabulary or a lackadaisical indolence that would be pitiable if it were not so culpable. Pupils, in school, should be thoroughly indoctrinated with the idea that no two words mean exactly the same thing, that every word has its own delicate shades of meaning, and that 172 THE THEORY OF TEACHING exactness of thinking demands exactness in the choice of words. (2) The English language is peculiar in point of its elasticity. Of a large share of its words, it is true that each has several shades of meaning, or even several radi- cally different meanings. For example, let any one thread out carefully all the meanings of the familiar words fast^ sound, or well. Our discussion of the term theory, in Chapter I, furnishes a case in point. The reader, therefore, and especially the listener, must always be on the alert lest ho be side-tracked or baffled by calling up a different meaning from that intended by the speaker or writer. To begin with, then, a clear sense of the varied and possiUe meanings of luords is essential to the really intelligent person. (3) Putting One^s Thought in Various Forms. — A third language habit of great importance to the teacher of any grade is that of being able to put one's thought in a variety of ways, or forms. This is always possible, by reason of the great richness of the English language, derived as it is from so many contributory sources, Saxon, Latin, Greek, etc., and thus so rich in synonyms. This wealth of synonyms affords not only the means of agree- able variety in expression, but also permits a division of labor among words, a differentiation in shades of meaning between so-called synonyms which gives the language great flexibility and power of precise expression. In short, the English language is a grand language to think in, if one will only take the pains necessary to become familiar with its resources and possibilities. And, to the teacher, the ability to illuminate a dark saying by trans- lating it with approximate accuracy into a different and more familiar form of words is a resource of the greatest value. LAITGUAGE 173 Summary. — Language, in the widest sense, is any means em- ployed in the expression of thought or feehng. The language of feeling is absolute, or universally intelligible; the language of thought is conventional. The language of feeling is common to the higher animals, but they have no language of thought, for the reason that they have no general notions, or concepts. Words are the vital investment of ideas, and are classified according to the kinds of ideas that they represent. The uses of language are (1) To think in; it abbreviates and facilitates thinking. (2) It records the results of thinking. (3) It enables us to analyze complex impressions, and thus becomes (4) The means of communication. Language has also its limitations: (1) There must be an estab- lished association between the particular form of word and its idea. (2) We can communicate ideas by language only so far as the raw materials already exist in the mind of the hearer. (3) There is danger lest we deceive ourselves as to how well we are understood. (4) There is great danger that words may become substitutes for ideas. There are certain habits of great importance in the use of lan- guage: (1) Precision in the choice of words, accuracy in their application (2) A clear sense of the varied and possible meanings of words. (3) The ability to put one's thought in a variety of ways, or forms CHAPTER XXV ANALYSIS AND SYNTHESIS Pedagogical literature has been especially marked by a loose and confusing use of the word analysis. It seems wise, therefore, to take some pains to clear up the proper application of the term. And we may begin in a negative way. Analysis is not mere mechanical separation. The housewife cutting a pie in segments for the table is not engaged in an act of analysis. Neither is the man who carves a turkey, except as he emphasizes the distinction between "brown" meat and "white" meat. The boy who takes a clock apart out of pure desire to busy himself is not analyzing it; for the act of analysis has not neces- sarily any connection with taking in pieces. Analysis, in a broad sense, is the reduction of a com- pound or organism to its elementary constituent forms or substances. In chemistry, the term is applied to the actual separation of elements; in botany, it means only the mental inspection and identification of parts accord- ing to their functions. In grammar, whether sentential or etymological, it means the same; subject, predicate, and modifiers, prefix, suffix, and root, are parts having special functions. But there is also an analysis which consists only in a mental separation of qualities. When we think out the specific qualities of an apple, for instance, observ- ing that it is round, smooth, red, hard or mellow, sour, crisp or otherwise, we are analyzing the apple in a true sense. Suppose one attempts to analyze a mince-pie ; he 174 ANALYSIS AND SYNTHESIS 175 will not accomplish that undertaking by separating the raisins into one pile, the crust into another, and so on, even if it were possible to dissociate the various con- stituents which culinary art has combined. The cook, it is true, performs a synthesis, but that is not in the mere mechanical compounding. Each constituent is used to produce a given result, to give the pie certain qualities, and thus has a specific function. So he who separates these qualities or functions, in his mind, by thinking of the sweetening, the shortening, the spicing, the souring, etc., of the compound, performs an act of analysis. We, therefore, define analysis as the me?ital separation of qualities^ or of }) arts according to function. And empha- sis is to be laid on the fact that it is mental and not mechanical ; it always has relation to meaning, or signifi- cance. We Analyze Individuals^ Not Classes. — This brings us to observe that analysis pertains to individuals and not to concepts or classes. When we mentally separate a genus into its species, that is not analysis but logical division. If it were not for creating confusion by further increasing the applications of the term "analysis," we might perhaps call division analysis of extension. Analysis proper is analysis of intension. But in analyzing a particular object we may mentall}'' separate all its quali- ties, or simply those which constitute it a member of its species. Thus what we call abstraction is only a form of analysis; or, rather, it is -a, partial analysis, effected for a special purpose, the formation of either class concepts or abstract notions. Analysis and Synthesis. — Analysis is a necessary step in the apprehension of anything, even in the simplest act of perception. I do not recognize a tree, for instance, except by putting temporary mental emphasis on certain 176 THE THEORY OF TEACHING of its qualities and organs. But we never analyze for the mere sake of analysis ; it is always as a means to a new synthesis, a more perfect combination of qualities or parts. And synthesis, when the term is rightly used, does not mean a mere putting together mechanically. The piling up of stones in a heap is not synthesis; though the combining of properly fashioned stones to form a complex structure, as in the arches of a bridge, would properly be so called. Each stone has then its definite office, or function. The relation of these terms to pedagogy will be more fully considered in a later chapter. But we should keep the fact clearly in mind that anal- ysis and synthesis always "hunt in couples"; with which- ever one we begin, the other will soon follow. We analyze that we may classify; but all classification is synthesis. What we call abstraction is only a form of analysis; and abstraction is preliminary to generalization, which, again, is synthetic. Analysis a Form of Discrimination. — In order to a full comprehension of the nature of analysis, we must recog- nize that it is only one form or stage of discrimination. We have already said, in Chapter IV, that discrimination and assimilation are the fundamental operations of the intellect. They enter into the simplest act of perception; they are the basis of all conception and all judgment; their highest development is found in the processes of induction and deduction. Inductive reasoning is analy- tic, deductive reasoning is synthetic. Analysis is only a somewhat formal or elaborate process of discrimination; or, if we turn the matter about, discrimination is only a limited, or imj^licit, form of analysis. And assimilation is only a form of synthesis, combining in thought those elements of experience which resemble each other in some ANALYSIS AKD SYNTHESIS 177 way. Throughout the whole range of thought, therefore, the processes of analysis and synthesis are indispensable. And the two processes imply, or presuppose, each other. Summary. — A loose and ambiguous use of the term analysis has caused much confusion in pedagogical discussion. Analysis is not mere separation, but is the reduction of a com- pound or organism to its elementary forms or substances. It is the mental separation of qualities, or of parts according to func- tion. We analyze individuals, not classes. The separation of a genus into its species is not analysis, but logical division. Analysis and synthesis always go together; the mind alternates between these processes. Analysis is made for the sake of a new synthesis. CHAPTER XXVI GENERAL METHOD What Method Is. — The term method., like theory and analysis^ has suffered from great looseness and ambiguity in its current use. Like the word theory^ its original application was very broad; etymologically, it means simply a way of proceeding or doing things. In the development of logical and pedagogical thought, how- ever, it has been more closely restricted in meaning. Strictly defined, in its scientific use, Method is systematic procedure according to principles. It implies a goal, or end, and the right, natural, and most economical way of reaching the chosen end. Such procedure, according to principles, cannot be haphazard, variable, or colored by individual idiosyncrasies. The laws, or principles, which govern method are not found in personal habit or caprice, but in the nature of things, the nature of the mind itself. Methods are discovered^ not invented. They are few and not many. Method and Manner: Special Methods. — It is impor- tant, therefore, to distinguish between method and ma?iner. Women, for instance, differ widely in ways of dressing their hair. They may affect curls, "bangs," braids, or more elaborate coiffures. In this diversity, they may, from time to time, follow the fashion set in high quarters, or they may, more independently, follow the bent of personal taste and preference; but in neither case can the term method be properly applied, What- 178 GENERAL METHOD 179 ever does not result from fixed laws, bat only illustrates individual tastes and peculiarities, is rather to be desig- nated as manner, even though it may be, through imita- tion, a collective manner. Again, there may be many special contrivances or arrangements, devised in harmony with, and application of, the fundamental principles of method for facilitating the attainment of special ends. These may, indeed, be invented, and are appropriately termed devices or sjjecial methods. Speaking more care- fully, a Special Method is an elaboration, with helpful devices, of the application of Method to a particular branch of study. The working out of judicious and effective special methods and devices is an important matter practically; but these must always be in con- formity with the general laws of mental acquisition. Failure to realize this or to apprehend the true principles of general method has often resulted in great waste of time and opportunity on catchy and "easy" devices, like the "diagraming" of sentences iu the study of gram- mar, or elaborate schemes of triangulation in map- drawing. THE INDUCTIVE METHOD Otie Method of Learning. — It was said above that methods, in the strict sense, are few. Let us now put that statement to the test. Suppose that oue wishes to know all about any class of objects, as grasshoppers; how may he go about such acquisition? Manifestly, one effective way will be to go where grasshoiopers are^ to bring our senses to bear upon them in close and extensive observation. But when we begin this process, what shall we find ourselves doing? First of all, of course, will come comparison of instances, specimens; but this comparison cannot proceed a single step without i\\Q ^\ii oi abstrae- 180 THE THEORY OF TEACHIl^G tion^ which, as was stated in the last chapter, is only a form or phase of analysis. Now this analysis, or abstrac- tion, will first attack the most general and at the same time obvious qualities of the specimens compared. We shall first note the color, size, and general form, and dis- cover their limits of variation. This will qualify us to take the next step, the making of judgments, or predica- tions, concerning the individuals observed. When the observation has become wide enough, by cooperation or otherwise, the leap to the universal, known as induction^ may be taken, and affirmations as to color, size, etc., may be made of all grasshoppers. But long before reaching this stage of generalization, which, by the way, is a synthetic step, our analysis will have gone beyond the qualities indicated and have entered upon the observation of organs, or parts having special functions. We shall first observe the general division of the insect into three parts, head, thorax, and abdomen. These, in turn, may be compared and generalized as to their color, form, etc. After which they will, succes- sively, be analyzed into their parts according to functions, as the various head-parts — antennae, eyes, mouth-parts, etc. But however far these processes of comparison and abstraction may be carried, the desired result in knowl- edge can only be attained by the crowning process of synthesis, a bringing together of all the observed facts under general statements or laws which are true of the whole type known as grasshopper. And these general- izations, when firmly established, constitute science. The Naming of this Method. — This method of intel- lectual mastery has been variously named, according as separate steps of the process are given prominence. Because it begins with actual objects, or individual GEN^ERAL METHOD 181 instances, whether material or immaterial, it has been called the Objective Method. This name emphasizes the initial steps of the process. Because it necessitates abstraction or analysis, it has been properly called the Analytic Method; though certain writers, like Dr. E. E. White, through confusion as to the real nature of analysis, have unfortunately termed it the Synthetic Method, a mischievous error which should be carefully and discriminatingly avoided. Because this method begins with individuals and, through analysis and synthesis, arrives at general propo- sitions, it has naturally been entitled the Inductive Method. We might accurately enough combine all these names in the compound title, The Objective-Analytic- Inductive Method. But since the objective character is only initiatory, and the term "analytic" is subject to the confusion already pointed out, the name Inductive Method seems the most convenient and also the most accurate, inasmuch as the term "inductive" covers the whole process from beginning to end. The method "pro- ceeds from the particular to the general." It has also been called the Method of Discovery, because it is the method by which scientific knowledge must first advance, the method by which all the natural sciences have been built up from empirical knowledge of mere facts into systematic general knowledge of laws and principles. THE DEDUCTIVE METHOD Another Metliod of Learning. — Returning to our orig- inal endeavor, is there any other procedure by which we may learn all about grasshoppers? Instead of taking to the fields in quest of specimens, let us resort to the library. There we shall find books on 182 THE THEORY OF TEACHING Natural History and Zoology. Let us select, for instance, Tenney's Zoology, a text-book of high repute in years not long past. Beginning its study, we encounter first a definition of Zoology as a whole, and of the term ''Animal Kingdom." Next follows a division of animals into Branches, or Types, as vertebrates, radiates, etc., followed by definitions of each. When these definitions have been duly amplified, each of the Branches is again divided into Orders, and so on. Thus the work proceeds by alternating definition and division, until, after four or five hundred pages have been turned, we come to a few condensed pages on grasshoppers and their species. And it still remains for us to find actual specimens and apply to them the abstract definitions of the book to see what we have found. The same general mode of procedure will be found in most text-books in all subjects. In Grammar they begin with the definition of language, or of grammar, divide it into Orthography, Etymology, Syntax, and Prosody, and continue to define and divide through all the parts of speech and their subdivisions. They also formulate gen- eral rules for the composition of words in actual use. The Geographies of a day not very far remote began with the consideration of the earth as a member of the solar system, and the first chapters were devoted to Mathemat- ical Geography, the most difficult and abstract part of the whole subject, whereas inductive study of geography begins with the home landscape. Names of this Method. — A very brief inspection reveals the fact that this method of procedure is, in a sense, the exact opposite of the Inductive Method. It begins with definitions, the broadest generalizations possible in any subject, and narrows down by logical division towards the concrete, individual facts. Its chief labor consists not in GEKERAL METHOD 183 the discovery and establishment of general judgments, but in the assumption of these and the application of them to particular cases. The method starts not with concrete, objective facts, but with logical abstractions, creations of the human mind itself; it may therefore be called a Sub- jective Method. It docs not resort to analysis, but endeavors to put specific cases under general laws. For this reason, that it puts individuals together under the law of the species, and species together under the genus, it has been called the Synthetic Method. Because it, after the manner of syllogistic reasoning, proceeds from the general to the particular, it is rightly named the Deductive Method. Combining these names as before, we may call it the Subjective-Synthetic-Deduct- ive Method of presentation. It has also been called the Method of Instruction, or more fitly the Method of Doctrine, from its common use in presenting systematically the gathered up results of scientific investigation and generalization in compact form. It has been well said that by following this method of presentation in school studies we require the pupil to begin where the scientist and philosopher leave off. The Complete Metliod. — But no science completes itself by the inductive method alone. As fast as its great gen- eralizations are reached, it turns them to account by their deductive application, and by tracing out all the practical implications of the laws inductively established. Thus it happens that later, or more advanced, parts and stages of any science become more and more deductive, as is well illustrated in the case of Physics. The same truth holds with reference to the smaller divisions of human knowl- edge, the sub-topics, so to speak, of science. We shall not be successful in our attempt to learn all about grass- 184 THE THEORY OF TEACHING hoppers by the inductive method. We must also make what is called, in the pedagogics of the day, "the return from the general to the particular." When definitions have been reached by induction, they must then be care- fully and strictly applied. This supplementing of the inductive procedure by the deductive, the combination of the two methods, has been called the Complete Method. It has been common in the pedagogical literature of the past generation to name a multiplicity of methods of pres- entation, through failure to see that there really can be but two, the procedure from the concrete and indi- vidual to the abstract and universal, and its reverse. Thus we find mention of the Analytic, the Objective, the Inductive, and the "Developing Method" as distinct methods, in apparent obliviousness of the fact that they are really only different aspects, at most, of the same general procedure. No harm will result from the inter- changeable use of these terms if only their common nature is clearly recognized. The so-called Complete, or Inductive-Deductive, Method is, of course, not a distinct method. It might, indeed, be thought of as combining the two general methods in one. Further Illustration of the Two General Methods. — A clear apprehension by the reader of these two methods in practical application doubtless demands further illustra- tion. Take, for instance, the special methods of teaching beginners to read, viz., the Alphabet Method, Phonic Method, Word Method, and Sentence Method; are they respectively inductive or deductive? Let us put them to the test. The concrete unit in reading is clearly the par- ticular, individual thought, expressed in a sentence. If we start with this, the child must analyze it into its com- ponent words. The words, in turn, may be analyzed into their constituent sounds. The process is analytic; the GEKEEAL METHOD 185 method is the inductive. There is the same general movement of mind in the word method, which starts with the A\ord or idea as a significant unit. On the other hand, letters are abstract; thej are highly generalized symbols, and have no concrete significance, or content. They only represent elementary sounds, and these sounds have no individual significance. Both letters and sounds must be synthesized into words before any significance emerges ; and words must still be com- bined into sentences before we have any reading. The alphabet and phonic methods are, therefore, synthetic, deductive. Again, in Geography, what would constitute an induct- ive or a deductive study of a city, as St. Louis? The boy who grows up in the city begins, of course, with the particular, concrete parts, or elements. He goes where they are; he employs his senses upon them, analyzes them. He analyzes the whole city in course of time, and at last, if he prosecutes his study far enough, he forms in mind a map, a general plan, of the city, its residence districts, its manufacturing districts, its transportation facilities, etc. He has analyzed the great organism into parts according to function, and has again brought these together in a comprehensive synthesis. He now knows the city as an aggregate. But the non-resident adult, going to the city for the World's Fair, will, before leaving home, procure a map and guide-book and study them to get the general plan and character of the city and fair- grounds, and will apply this general scheme to the par- ticular facts and details when he comes in contact with them. This will be an example of the synthetic, deduct- ive method of learning. In the study of the mother-tongue, the young child begins with concrete details and makes all his advances 18G THE THEORY OF TEACHING by observation and experiment. He gets at the meaning of the words he hears by a succession of hypotheses, or tentative interpretations, which he revises and corrects by the aid of growing experience. He arrives at the rules of grammar and composition slowly and inductively, during the early years. When he comes to the study of formal grammar, this process is reversed, and he now begins to work backwards from definitions and rules to their appli- cation in practice. And fortunate is he if intelligent application is insisted on and secured, without allowing words to become substitutes for ideas. In the study of foreign languages, the deductive method starts with grammar and dictionary; the inductive, or "natural," method begins with conversation and the naming of objects after the manner of childhood. Which of these is the more fruitful method depends upon circumstances and upon the practical ends in view. The Place of Inductive Method. — The truth hardly needs further emphasis that the inductive method is necessarily the true and only successful method for the early stages of learning. The child's progress in knowl- edge before he is sent to school is greater and more important than we commonly realize; and it is all attained to through objective experience. The child tumbles on the doorstep, falls on the ice or into the water, touches his hand to the stove, falls out of the apple tree, or cuts himself on broken glass, and so learns the properties of matter — studies elementary physics, in short; though he does not formulate the law of gravita- tion, or any other, till a later period. As years advance and experience widens and he acquires the means and power of deductive reasoning, the deductive method of learning and teaching becomes more and more feasible and profitable. But the time never arrives when he can GENERAL METHOD 187 dispense altogether with inductive study. The primary, fundamental ideas in any branch of study, unless it be mathematics, must be acquired objectively in all grades of school. It is for this reason that our universities are pro- viding such elaborate and expensive equipment for labora- tory work and the experimental method of study and investigation. Advantages of the Inductive Method. — While the induct- ive method of teaching is now being urged upon educators everywhere as the natural and necessary mode of acquisi- tion, it is nevertheless true that it has, along with its great advantages, certain important limitations. Its recognized advantages are: (1) It insures a clear ap2)rehension of the knowledge acquired; it results in real knowledge. *' Seeing is believ- ing" is a familiar adage ; it gives the feeling of reality. And, in like manner, the knowing which is based on con- crete experience is a secure and usable possession. (2) It secures an active state of mind on the part of the learner. The learner is not merely a recipient of second- hand judgments and a slave to authority. If not an originator of knowledge, his mind is at least in a state of active cooperation with that of the teacher. Limitations of the Inductive Method. — The limitations of the inductive method are partly logical ' and partly practical. (1) 8ome studies are deductive in their nature., especially mathematics. Geometry, for example, starts with axioms and conventional definitions. Its first theorems are of the broadest and most general character. Out of these are unfolded, step by step, narrower and narrower propo- sitions depending for their validity on the broader ones from which they are derived. The whole process of thought is deductive, as was illustrated in Chapter XXIII. 188 THE THEORY OF TEACHING History, again, is not to us a matter of experience, it must be taken principally on human authority. Archae- ology, the study of ancient ruins and relics, may indeed be studied by the objective, inductive method; but its scope is limited, and its results do not constitute history proper. Any attempt to study history by this method only results in a sort of quasi-mduciion. (2) Among practical difficulties, the first to be noted is that this form of instruction costs so much, in the way of apparatus and equipment. The apparatus required for primary teaching, where the method is most needed, is simple and inexpensive. But as education progresses upward the necessary equipment becomes more and more elaborate and costly. The cost of the cabinets and labo- ratory outfits demanded by a modern university reaches into the millions. (3) A further objection is that the method is slow, takes so much time. Obse^'vation and analysis are always slow processes. The basing of knowledge on observed fact does take time; and if the generalizations of science, the laws and principles of the universe, could be truly learned and mentally assimilated by taking them at second-hand in their perfected scientific forms, the de- ductive method would truly be more expeditious. And, doubtless, it is not necessary that the pupils should redis- cover the established principles of science; that process would consume too much time. (4) Another hindrance to the more general use of the inductive method in elementary schools arises from the fact that it makes such great demand on the teacher in the way of both general and special preparation for his work. With the deductive method, most of the work of instruction, the planning and formulation of the work, has been done by the author of the text-book; the GENERAL METHOD 189 teacher is often little more than the hearer of lessons. The teacher using the inductive method, on the other hand, must not only know his subjects, but must exercise wisdom and good judgment in laying out the work and planning lessons, and be skillful in presentation. He must know how to direct the pupil's energies to avoid *'scatteration" and waste of time. This means that he must have an adequate professional training and make a daily preparation for his work such as is not expected from the text-book teacher. But such teachers cost money. They cannot afford to teach for the wages which unskilled teachers are willing to take ; and tax-payers are not gen- erally partial to high-priced teachers. It thus happens that motives of parsimony or false economy present the greatest obstacle to the more general use of really scien- tific methods of teaching. (5) Yet another criticism made upon the inductive method is that it does not sufficiently train in the use of books. When the pupil leaves school and teachers, his education is only begun ; and lie must prosecute it further principally by the use of books. And it is urged that inductive teaching, dealing largely with objects at first- hand and relying little on books — since the teacher's work will be chiefly oral in form — does not train pupils to the effective use of books, does not teach them how t'^ get out of books what is in them. There is some force in this view; but the difficulty is not an insurmountable one. It is certainly important that pupils should be trained to familiarity with books and made skillful in the use of indexes. The ability to find and digest what is really needed in a book, without swallowing it whole, is a valu- able if not indispensable acquirement for the modern student. What is Really Economical. — The answer to the objec- 190 THE THEORY OF TEACHIIN-G tions raised on the ground of cost in time and money is that any method is economical which produces sound and durable results. "The longest way around is the shortest way home" is a familiar adage which may well find appli- cation here. And any method which results in vague, indistinct apprehension, in easily forgotten because unas- similated formulae, and the substitution of words for ideas is a costly and wasteful method, no matter what short-cuts it may seem to offer. Thus the successful teacher, in the long run, must have such a training and such a comprehension of the laws of learning as will enable him to make the due adjustment of methods to each other and to the mental status of the pupils under his tuition. Summary. — Method is systematic procedure according to prin- ciples. These principles exist in the nature of the mind itself; tliey are discovered, not invented. We must distinguish between method and manner, which latter covers all procedure growing out of individual tastes and peculiarities. We may also distinguish special methods, or devices for the application of general method to particular studies. One method begins with the observation and analysis of indi- viduals, and aims to evolve general laws and truths; this may be called the Objective-Analytic-Inductive Method. Another method begins with broad generalizations and pro- ceeds by alternate definition and division towards particulars, or individuals. This is called the Subjective-Synthetic-Deductive Method. ' The great advantages of the Inductive Method are that it (1) Insures clear apprehension, (2) Secures an active state of mind, cooperation on the part of the learner. It has certain limitations, viz.: (1) Some studies are deductive in their nature. (2) The cost of apparatus and equipment. (3) It takes so much time. • GENERAL METHOD 191 (4) Its great demand upon teachers. (5) Does not sufficiently train in the use of books. While the inductive method is the natural method for begin- ners, neither method alone is sufficient. The combination of the two has been called the complete method. CHAPTER XXVII HABIT Our study of the psychology of the cognitive, or intel- lectual, powers led us naturally to the study of some topics belonging to Logic, the science of thought, and of General Method, which bridges the space between logic and pedagogics. Let us now return to psychology for a brief consideration of those mental activities which are not included among the knowing powers, but which are no less essential to the life of the soul. The subject next to be considered might well have been taken up much earlier in our course had we not been so intent on our analysis of the knowing powers. The Basis of Habit.— That modification of brain struc- ture, or of the whole nervous system, which we have seen to be the physical basis of memory, is also the physical basis of Habit, which may be characterized as the nervous, and mental, tendency to do again that which has once been done, to reproduce forms of action which have become familiar by repetition. It comes into existence through what we have called, more or less metaphor- ically, the forming of paths, or grooves, in the nerve tissues, or structures. Any action once performed is, by virtue of that fact, more easily performed tliereafter. ''Acts once occurring tend to recur" is a fundamental law of habit, as "Mental experiences occurring together tend to recur together" is a law of memory. No con- scious experience leaves the brain as it found it. Every 192 HABIT 193 conscious act inaugurates a tendency, be it never so slight, to a renewal of activity of the same sort; and every recur- rence of such activity deepens the channels, so to speak, and makes easier the requisite nervous reaction. Examples of Hahit. — Illustrations of the operation of the principle of habit are seen throughout animate nature. Something analogous to it is seen even in the inorganic realm. A piece of paper once folded on a given line and then smoothed out ever so carefully will always fold again more easily along that line. The dressy man's trousers must be often pressed to take out the wrinkles which insist on reappearing in the same positions. Even the weather seems to get into ruts of habit; when it gets to raining it is liable to keep on raining, and nothing seems more persistent than a drought. Specific examples of habit in human behavior are seen in the act of walking, in the accustoming of our fingers to the use of knife and fork or the playing of musical instruments, in our antipathies to or fondness for certain foods, and especially in addic- tion to such narcotics and stimulants as tobacco, opium, and alcoholic beverages. We also form definite and per- sistent ways of thinking and feeling; we become habitu- ally argumentative, censorious, or polite. Essential Cliaracterisfics of HaMf. — Analysis of habit- ual activities shows them to possess invariably the following characteristics, viz. : (1) By virtue of repetition and the retentive principle already discussed, acts become more and more easy of execution. As a consequence of this increased ease of per- formance, they are executed more rapidly. This is well illustrated in the process of learning to write or to finger a musical instrument. (2) A further consequence of the greater ease of execu- tion is found in a correspondingly diminished intensity of 194 THE THEORY OF TEACHING the attendant consciousness. Compare the intensity of conscious effort of a boy in his first piano lessons, or a beginner in club-swinging, with the almost unconscious action of the skilled pianist or gymnast; or, again, the first struggles over the multiplication table with the easy computation of the practiced accountant. (3) A third and crowning characteristic of habitual action is its relative perfection. The practiced accountant does not make mistakes in his additions as does the tyro; the club-swinging or other gymnastic exercise once diffi- cult has become at once more easy, more unconscious, and more perfect in execution. ^'Practice makes per- fect." Here the act of walking serves again as an illus- tration. When the necessary muscular coordinations have become. perfected and consolidated by practice, that which was so difficult to the learning child has become easy to the point of unconsciousness. The action is now, not reflex indeed, but automatic, habitual. The person who writes most perfectly, as a rule, writes with the greatest ease and the lowest degree of consciousness. It is not the beginner nor the occasional marksman who is a sure shot. Difference hetiueen HaMttial and Reflex Action. — It is well to emphasize here the distinction between habitual and reflex action. Habitual action resembles reflex some- what in the diminished consciousness; yet, as we have seen, reflex action may be intensely conscious. But all habitual acts were, in their inception, voluntary. Their automatic character is always acquired, the reverse of which is true in reflex action, whose most essential char- acteristic is its involuntariness. For this reason, we must consider the almost unconscious activity of the preoccu- pied walker to be not reflex, but habitual, secondarily automatic. HABIT 195. Difference hetweeii Habit and Instinct. — A similar dis- tinction must be drawn between habit and instinct. Instinctive action, though complex, is, in a sense, reflex. Moreover, it is innate. Instincts develop, and blossom on proper occasion, without any volitional process of training or habituation. The bee does not learn how to bnild its comb, nor the insect where to lay her Qgg. Habit, on the other hand, always has its beginning in voluntary acts and is often the result of long and painful training. It may be said with an approach to accuracy that instincts, are inlierited habits, while habits are acquired instincts; but habit begins in voluntary acts of the individual, while instinct does not. It antedates voli- tion. The Effects of Hah it on Life. — Rousseau, posing as an educational reformer, and others following his lead, have inveighed against the rule of habit, holding that action should always be governed by rational considerations and the perceived conditions of the moment rather than by tradition or inertia. It behooves the teacher, therefore, to consider intelligently the importance of habit to our mental life both as to its advantages and its hindrances. We have already seen that it results in greater ease and perfection of action, along with a diminished strain of attention. This allows us to perform many of the actions of daily life, including those most necessary to our phys- ical existence, with a low degree of marginal consciousness, leaving the attention free to focus on other and parallel activities which by reason of their rarity or difficulty have not yet been reduced to routine. In other words, much of our muscular activity is turned over to the almost automatic control of the lower nerve centers, while the higher centers are left free to direct the more complex and difficult operations which require the full light of 196 THE THEORY OF TEACHING focal consciousness. Thus a woman may successfully keep on with her knitting, or play a familiar tune on the piano, while carrying on a conversation which demands new adjustments of attention at every step. So there comes to be a sort of division and organization of labor among the nerve centers which adds greatly to the free- dom and efficiency of our physical and mental activities. This has been compared to the conditions existing in a department of government, or great business office, in which the simpler and more ordinary' labors are turned over to clerks and subordinates, while the higher officials are left free to direct the more difficult and important decisions which cannot be reduced to routine but must be decided by the highest intelligence. A further value of habit lies in its relation to skill. It is habit that frees us from the awkwardness and ineffi- ciency of our earlier peformance. If this were not true and if such acts as the use of knife and fork, the acts of articulation and of writing, the use of tools, or the setting of type, were always to remain as awkward and slow of performance as in our first experience with them, we should hardly be able to maintain our existence, to say nothing of reaching a high point of development and power. And the same principle operates towards facility of mental operations as well as physical acts. Habit is thus a great liberating agency, which makes possible the diversified activities, physical and mental, of the civilized man. Tlie Bondage of Habit. — On the other hand, habit, which with one hand brings us freedom, with the other brings us slavery. It tends to fix our modes and courses of action in rigid lines. We all have abundant experience of the bondage of habit, the great difficulty of escape" from its control when it has once been fixed in lines which HABIT 197 we afterwards find to be disadvantageous. Apt illustration o± this is furnished by the difficulty of correcting careless or inaccurate forms of speech, or rustic manners. Still more serious is the slavery imposed by the effects on the nervous system of the drink habit, the tobacco habit, and other vices of appetite. Again, such habits as the scold- ing habit and the habits of prevarication or exaggeration may work a vitiating effect on the whole life and career of those who once become addicted to them. When St. Paul cried out, "The thing that I would not, that I do," he was probably feeling the coercing effect of an enslaving habit. And these tyrannous habits are, for the most part, formed very early in life, while the nervous system is in its plastic and formative state. The majority of evil habits are fixed upon the youth with fatal force before parents have once awakened to the possibility of danger. The question, then, as to the good or evil of habit is only a question as to the choice of habits. Good habits are the savor of life unto life. They are a safeguard to the soul in unguarded moments and in times of stress and temptation. They make possible all the goodness and greatness of life. Bad habits are the savor of death unto death. They corrupt the issues of life and hold us in chains which gall us with the sense of our perverted manhood. The Relatio7i of Education to Habit. — Education con- sists largely in two things, the setting up of worthy ideals and the establishment of right and useful habits of mind and body. But many of these habits must be fixed, if at all, before the age when ideals can be brought to bear effectively. And the unwisdom of parental neglect can- not always be overcome by the wholesome influences of the school; they come into the field too late. But, early and 198 THE THEORY OF TEACHING late, it is true, as Professor James has so aptly said, that "rt chief aim in all edtication is to make our nervous sys- tem our ally and not our enemy. ^^ When this declaration is apprehended in its full force it will furnish priceless guidance for the educational endeavors of both home and school. To quote further from Professor James: "Could the young but realize how soon they will become mere walking bundles of habits, they would give more heed to their conduct while in the plastic state. We are spinning our own fates, good or evil, and never to be undone. Every smallest stroke of virtue or of vice leaves its never so little scar. The drunken Rip Van Winkle in Jefferson's play excuses himself for every fresh dereliction by saying, 'I won't count this time.' Well! he may not count it, and a kind Heaven may not count it; but it is being counted none the less. Down among his nerve cells and fibers the molecules are counting it, registering and storing it up to be used against him when the next temptation comes. Nothing we ever do is, in strict scientific literalness, wiped out." Good Habits Not Spontaneous. — It seems to be a law that bad habits, like weeds, spring up without effort and almost without observation. Being in harmony with our animal and instinctive propensities, they need no stimula- tion but only repression or suppression. But good habits, those which serve the ends of our higher nature, like flowers and useful plants, require great pains and watch- fulness both in the seed- time and in their later develop- ment. Parents and teachers must remember that eternal vigilance and patience are the price of wholesome, helpful habits, whether in the field of manners, morals, or intel- lectual and industrial efficiency. Such intellectual habits as good writing, clear articulation, accuracy in computa- tion, and intelligent punctuation can only be established HABIT 199 by watchful and persistent effort in tbe early years; while those high spiritual habits of courtesy, respect for rightful authority, and purity of thought and imagination demand the highest order of personal influence. Good habits are costly, but they are worth the price. Summary. — Habit is the tendency tc do again that which has formerly been done. Acts once occurring tend to recur. The essential characteristics of habit are (1) Increasing ease of performance, due to repetition. (2) Diminished intensity of attendant consciousness. (3) Greater perfection in the action. "Practice makes perfect." Habitual actions differ from reflex actions in that they are at first voluntary; their automatic character is always acquired. Habits differ from histinct in the same way. The greater ease and perfection of habitual action, and its light demand upon attention, furnish great relief to the mind and add greatly to its freedom and efficiency. Habit results in great economy of mental energy. But wliile habit with one hand brings us freedom, with the other it brings us slavery. The bondage of bad habits is the most grievous handicap of human life. Education consists largely in the early and firm establishment of right and useful habits, and the elimination or repression of evil and disadvantageous ones. ''A chief aim in all education is to make our nervous system our ally and not our enemy." Bad habits resemble weeds in the spontaneity of their growth; but good habits, like flowers, require great care and vigilance in their cultivation. CHAPTER XXVIII INSTINCT Vagueness m the Use of the Term. — Perhaps no term employed in the discussion of human or animal experience is used so loosely or with so little clear conception of the actual fact for which it stands as the word instinct. Indeed, it is most often iised, in common speech, as an evasion, to escaj^e rather than furnish explanation. When we say that animals are able to do wonderful things *'by instinct," we have explained nothing; the problem still remains as dark as ever. AVhat is instinct? What should we mean by that much abused term? Even among psy- chologists and writers on animal intelligence, the word seems to be used with more or less ambiguity, sometimes in a loose, comprehensive sense and sometimes with a more strict and technical signification. But that is the misfortune of many other words as well. Instinct Applies only to Action. — It is perhaps well to note, at the outset, that the adjective instinctive is properly applied to action only ; it has no necessary con- nection with intelligence, or knowing. There is no such thing as instinctive knowledge; instinctive action is action for which knowledge is not necessary. There is no "know how" connected with it. And the most impressive and marvelous exhibitions of the operation of instinct are found in the lower grades of animal life, where intel- ligence is, at best, of a very low order. 200 INSTINCT 201 IllustratioR of Instinctive Action. — Before entering upon any further discussion of the fundamental nature of this power, or endowment, it will be useful to cite a variety of examples of its exercise. Stock examples, familiar to all, are found in the actions of newly-hatched birds and reptiles, the mating and migration of birds, the intricate nest- weaving of certain birds, as the oriole, the cunning of the fox and death-shamming of the opos- sum, and the homing of pigs and carrier-pigeons. But much more complex and wonderful examples are to be found in the lower ranks of the insect world. The cooperative activities of bees and ants, with their peculiar social organization, are sufficiently striking examples; but even more astonishing are the various adjustments in the life history of moths, spiders, dragon-flies, water beetles, and even earthworms. A giddy fly stings its Qgg through the soft shell of a growing nut at just such time that the Qgg and the nut shall ripen together. The shell hardens, the kernel matures in time to furnish a magazine of food for the growing grub, which lasts him until his "teeth" are sharp enough to pierce the hardened shell and enable him to make his cUl)ut on a new field of activity. Mean- while, during his seclusion, the parent fly has departed life and the orphan grub has no instructor for his future needs any more than he had within his nutshell home. Who taught the fly where and when to lay her eggs? Who taught the honey-bee geometry? No one; they never learned, never had to learn. Characteristics of Instinctive Activity.— These puzzling and seemingly miraculous activities have much in common with reflex action. Indeed, a writer of great fame has defined instinct as "compound reflex action," and the definition has been widely accepted ; though it suggests 202 THE THEORY OF TEACHING at once that instinctive action differs from reflex iji its greater complexity. But while the two have much in common, the conviction is forced upon us that there is in instinctive action something more than the simple response to stimulus which constitutes reflex action. In any case, we may note the following salient charac- teristics, as suggested by Prof. Lloyd Morgan ("Habit and Instinct,'* Chapter I). (1) Instinctive activity, though initiated, like reflex action, by some external stimulus, *'is a response of the organism as a whole, and involves the cooperation of several organs and many groups of muscles." It is also *' determined in a greater degree than reflex action by an internal factor which causes uneasiness or distress, more or less marked, if it do not find its normal instinctive satisfaction," as in the case of the incubation and migra- tion of birds. (2) In the second place, instinctive activities are not individual in their character. They are common to all the species and are similarly performed by all its mem- bers. Moreover, they seem to be of a purely necessary and mechanical character. Given a certain type of organism and suitable conditions in the environment, and the phenomena of instinct follow without any individual variation or idiosyncrasy. This is not saying, however, that instinctive tendencies may not be overlaid and modi- fied by experience, by habit, and especially by association. (3) A further and most important characteristic of instinctive actions is seen in the fact that they, for the most part, have reference to the peyyetuation and loelfare of the species^ or race. They are not isolated or incon- gruous acts, as reflex actions sometimes are, but constitute a system, a safe and sure provision w^hich Nature has established for the preservation of her manifold types in INSTINCT 203 the organic world. And these racial instincts have refer- ence not only to procreation, or reproduction, but also to the preservation of the individual from his enemies and natural dangers. The Explanation of Indinctive Activity. — Thus far, we have considered only the external characteristics, so to speak, of instinctive actions. But what lies back of all these? What is the ex2Jlanation of instinct? Is it some- thing ultimate and inexplicable, a sort of miraculous endowment concerning whose causes nothing more can be said? Science is not willing to look upon it in such a light, but seeks for some intelligible theory of its origin. And its latest word, stated as simply as may be, seems to be this: The explanation of instinct must be furnished by the laws of physical life, by the science of biology. The fundamental thing in instinct is the principle of heredity. But what is it that is inherited? Not knowl- edge, nor intelligence of any sort, but simply certain nervous coordinations, certain definite arrangements of nerve cells and paths which are already adapted to pro- duce muscular responses of a definite and useful sort. The human being spends much time and effort in fashioning his nervous system, in habituating it to the performance of desired activities; but the animal, acting under the law of instinct, is saved that trouble. It inherits its most important coordinations ready-made, and the machine runs perfectly, from the start, in response to external and internal stimuli. Instinct has been called '^inherited habit," and the phrase is not wholly inaccu- rate. Instinct in Man. — Man is, we say, a rational being whose life is largely controlled by intelligence and voli- tion. It is commonly held, therefore, that his instincts are few and comparatively unimportant, being confined in 204 THE THEORY OF TEACHING their operation mostly to infancy. There is a contrary view, however, of which Prof. Wm. James is the most prominent representative, which holds that man's instincts are even more numerous than those of the lower animals. This conclusion seems to he made possible by resolving all the emotions into instincts. It would thus seem to be largely a matter of definition ; but it hardly seems reason- able to ignore the distinction between instincts and emo- tions, whatever points of connection they may have. At all events, man's instincts lack the definite, neces- sary character which is characteristic of animal instinct. They are more transitory and are largely obscured and modified by the exercise of rational and volitional activi- ties. The life of the insect is largely, if not wholly, ruled by instinct; while in man reason divides sway with habit. Transitoriness of Some Instincts. — It is important to note, finally, that while some instincts are peremptory and irresistible, others are liable to suppression or starvation. Chicks instinctively follow the hen at birth, but if kept from the hen ten or twelve days they will thereafter pay her no regard. Instincts have their normal time of ripening, or rather of blossoming, and must then have scope for exercise or they are liable to decay or disappear- ance. Some are active in the first days of life; others are held in abeyance, as it were, and spring into activity at later stages in the life development. Summary. — The term instinct is often used very vaguely; in itself it does not explain anything. The word instinctive is properly applied only to action; there is no instinctive knowledge. Instinctive activity has much in common with reflex action, but is more complex. Its salient characteristics are: (1) It is a response of the organism as a whole, involving several organs and groups of muscles. (2) It is not individual in its character, but IKSTIKCT 205 common to all the species. (3) It has special reference, as a rule, to the perpetuation of the race, or species. The fundamental thing in instinct is heredity, the inheritance of certain ner\'ous coordinations adapted to produce certain definite muscular responses. In adult human life, the operations of instinct are much modi- fied and obscured by the exercise of reason and volition; yet they are of great importance, especially in the early development of children. Some instincts are transitory in their activity; if they do not have timely opportunity for exercise, they are liable to be sup- pressed and atrophied. CHAPTER XXIX THE FEELINGS What Feeling Is. — Feeling is that phase of conscious- ness by which we attach a value, positive or negative, to our experiences. It is that subjective quality of mental experience which makes life worth living and makes vol- untary activity possible. If all experience were colorless, a matter of indifference, life would be purely mechanical, and even the motive for existence would be lacking. (For other discussion, refer to Chapter IV.) Classification of Feeli?igs. — Feelings may be classified on various bases of division; but the most obvious division is that according to their apparent origin and trend of movement, namely: (1) Sensations^ or feelings of bodily origin. These, as we have already seen, in Chapter IX, have as their phys- ical antecedents the stimulation by physical agencies of the peripheral terminations of sensory nerves, and the setting up of nerve currents flowing into the brain. As to their physical relations, they are centripetal. While they all have varying degrees of the pleasure-pain quality, or tone, and thus furnish motive for action, their most important office lies in their relation to knowledge, their cognitive aspect. And we rank as highest those which have this cognitive function in the highest degree. The classification of sensations was worked out in Chap- ters IX to XIV. 206 THE FEELINGS 207 (2) Emotions^ or feelings of internal origin. What the physical antecedents of these feelings may he is still largely a matter of speculation and controversy. The j&rst observable fact is the feeling itself, arising in the mind upon due occasion, which is usually some mental image aroused under the laws of association. Some remembered experience or imagined situation excites a feeling of anger, joy, or fear, which seems to be a spon- taneous activity of the soul itself. But such feelings always have discernible physical consequences, however uncertain and obscure their physical antecedents may be. The accompanying brain excitement pours out a current through the motor nerves, and some form of physical expression results. As the word implies, emotions move outward; they are centrifugal. Their modes of outward expression are manifold both in kind and degree. They may take the form of ener- getic muscular contractions, as in running away; of vocal sounds, as in laughter or crying; of facial expression, blushing, the brightening of the eyes, the creeping of the scalp, "goose flesh," and all the various disturbances of the circulation. In the disciplined adult, these overt expressions are to some extent inhibited, or held in check; but in young children and in undisciplined per- sons, they have free play and reveal with certainty any emotional tumult within. Tlie Refiexive Effect^ or ''' Back-stroke'^ of Feeling. — But this physical outcome of emotional excitement does not end with simple expression. It, in some way, reacts upon the exciting emotion, increasing or otherwise modifying it. Thus the outward expression of anger in set teeth, clenched fists, and especially in violent language, returns upon the mind; and, within limits, the more we fume the angrier we become. He who runs through fear draws 208 THE THEORY OP TEACHING fresh fear from liis own flight; and he who laughs tickles himself anew, until his laughter, perhaps, becomes uncon- trollable. This reflexive effect of emotional expression is tacitly recognized in our prudential efforts at repression, in such maxims as, *' When you are angry, count ten before you speak; if very angry, count a hundred," and by the tradi- tional boy who whistles while passing a graveyard at night. But the attempt to smother emotion by suppressing its physical expression does not always have a successful issue. Inhibition seems, sometimes, to act only as a sort of dam, which serves to accumulate nervous energy until it finally breaks over the restraint w^ith explosive force. The ultra-vigorous expression which follows furnishes relief, and the wave of feeling rapidly subsides. The Genesis of Feeling. — Under what conditions does feeling arise? What are the stimulating causes of the pleasurable or painful tone of consciousness? In the case of organic sensations, we have seen that it was due to physiological changes, the disintegration of tissues from various causes. Other sensations result, also, from phys- ical causes. With emotions, the case seems to be differ- ent ; they seem to arise as always the consequences, or at least the concomitants, of action or of ideas. Activity and emotions of certain kinds appear to be inseparably connected, especially in the experience of young children. In our adult consciousness, emotion seems to require an antecedent in the form of images or ideas. If we are angry or joyful or envious, the feeling has some objective terminus in our minds. If our feeling is one of eagerness for action, even, there must first be in mind some pictured result of action. Whenever we see a person manifesting the expressive signs of emotion, we always mentally seek for the intellectual antecedents, the ideas which have called up his emotional state. THE FEELINGS 209 The pleasure-pain element in feeling, especially in sen- sation, seems to be definitely related to the degree of stimulation. In general, it may be said that pleasur- able sensation is the result of moderate stimulation, while low or high degrees of excitation result in pain. Thus the full glare of the sun in the eyes, or the dim- ness of fading twilight or a foggy day, are disagree- able, while the normal amount of sunlight is always enjoyable. What we desire as to all stimulations is that they shall be "just about right," avoiding excessive extremes. Different Types of Emotion. — Emotions have been classified, among other ways, into (1) Egoistic, or Self- regarding, (2) Altruistic, or Social, and (3) The Higher Sentiments. The egoistic, or anti-social, feelings are strong and comparatively well defined; they are those primal, elemental feelings whose aim is self-preservation, and which man shares with the higher animals. Among them are Anger, Fear, Hatred, Vanity, and Love of Power and Dominion. These feelings are necessary to give force and efficiency to the life and character, but must be tempered by and properly correlated with the higher emotions. The Social Feelings are all those which bring us into human relations and lead us to seek the satisfactions which they afford, by some surrender of personal inde- pendence and mere self-regard. They are the basis of all that reciprocity and mutual consideration which lie at the foundation of civilized society. The great generic form of social feeling is Sympathy, the ability to put one's self in the place of another and make, in a sense, the feelings of others our own. Kindred to this, is Love, in the higher sense of the word, sexual attraction belonging rather to the self-regarding feelings. 210 THE THEORY OF TEACHING The Higher Sentiments. — The Higher Sentiments are the Intellectual Sentiment, the Esthetic Sentiment, and the Moral, or Ethical, Sentiment. (1) The Intellectual Sentiment includes all those feel- ings which arise with reference to the pursuit or the possession of knowledge, as Wonder, Curiosity, the Pains of Ignorance, and the Joy of Understanding. All these are exhibited by the child in great purity. It is the pain of ignorance which makes of him "an animated interroga- tion point"; and the dying down of curiosity in later years is an ominous sign which calls upon us as teachers to make careful examination as to our own responsibility in the case. It is the joy of understanding which moves the scientist and the philosopher to devote their lives to the pursuit of truth. (2) The Esthetic Sentiment embraces all forms of feel- ing having relation to Beauty, the satisfaction that we feel in the contemplation of symmetry, proportion, har- mony, delicacy, purity, grandeur, etc., and the pain aroused by their absence. It is the starting point of all art, and its development is an important part of true education. Children, as a rule, are responsive to simple forms of beauty, and need only the stimulus of a sympa- thetic touch on the part of their instructors. *'See there; isn't that pretty?" is a word which ought often to be spoken to little children, but always with discrimination. Care should be taken not to stimulate any affectation or pretense of a feeling which is not genuinely felt. The ministry of aesthetic culture to the refinement and eleva- tion of life and its pleasures is a boon of which no child should be deprived through ignorance or neglect. (3) The Moral Sentiment comprises those feelings which have special relation to conduct and personal responsi- bility. The primary element is the feeling of obligatmi THE FEELIN'GS 211 or ougJiUiess. This accompanies the moral intuition to which reference was made in Chapter XXII, the innate rec- ognition that some acts are right and therefore ought to be done. This is the fundamental factor in what we call Con- science, a term very loosely conceived in the popular mind. Conscience. — Conscience should be distinguished from moral judgment. It never passes on the morality of con- crete acts, never decides luhat acts are right or wrong. It comprises (a) The intuitive recognition of a principle of right, above mentioned, (b) The feeling of obligation, or duty, in the presence of alternative lines of action, (c) The feeling oi complacency, or satisfaction, over duty done, or of self-condemnation in view of failure in duty. When this self-condemnation, or sting of conscience, becomes acute and persistent, it is called remorse. The hourly question as to whether given acts are right or wrong, moral or immoral, is one for the judgment only, an intellectual question. The so-called moral judgment is simply the judgment occupied with questions of moral- ity, or obligation. In such cases, however, judgment is peculiarly liable to error and perversion through the warping effect of personal desires, the bias of feeling dis- cussed in Chapter XXII. Along with the stimulation and quickening of the feeling of duty, we should therefore attend carefully to the training of the judgment in its contact with questions of personal conduct. A "tender conscience" involves quickness and strength of moral feeling. A "seared" conscience is a deadness to moral sentiment, induced by allowing appetite and selfish desires to override and smother the feeling of obligation, A "perverted" conscience is only a perverted judgment as to lines of personal duty, and is often the natural result of education. Fanaticism usually results from a combination of intense moral feeling with a traditional 212 THE THEORY OP TEACHING and ill-grounded system of judgments and beliefs, as in the case of the Moslem zealots who follow the Mahdi to rapine and slaughter from religious motives. The quick- ening of conscience and the training of the judgment are thus both essential factors in the production of moral character. Conscience without intelligence and sound judgment is liable to do much harm as well as good. And the question, Shall I do my duty? is not more common or more vital than the other question, What is my duty? Feelings as Motives. — The fundamental fact to be kept in mind by the educator is that feelings are the main- springs of action, intellectual as well as physical. The relation of feeling to will may best be considered in a succeeding chapter; but we are already prepared to see the importance of developing by every suitable means the social feelings and higher sentiments, so as to hold in proper balance those egoistic feelings which give force and efficiency to action; for "out of the heart are the issues of life." Chilclren^s Feelings. — The emotions of children natur- ally and inevitably differ from those of adult life in several respects. At the outset, as has already been inti- mated, they are largely connected with physical activities. Again, they are greatly dependent on presentations, or sense experiences. Sensations, especially very painful ones, give rise to paroxysms of anger and impatience. Agreeable sensations excite emotions of joy and delight. Of course, anticipations of physical pleasure and pain play a great part ; but in childhood the representative element is still relatively small, and abstract ideas have little or no power to arouse feeling. This fact, that the basis of childish emotion is so largely physical and presentative, is one of special importance to those charged with the train- ing of children. THE FEELINGS 213 It is also important to consider the stormy and tumultu- ous character of childish feeling. The power of inhibi- tion is weak, since experience is so narrow and there is so little power of representation, or the holding in mind of images calculated to counteract or oppose the present excitement. We cannot, therefore, very successfully appeal to abstract motives or the higher sentiments, but must rather secure inhibition by means of diverting the child's attention to a new set of interesting percepts. Again, the feelings of childhood are chiefly of the ego- istic, or anti-social, type. The saying that "a little child is a little pig," is not far wide of the truth. The child, it is true, has social impulses, and is constantly made conscious of his dependence; but the rise, through culti- vation, of steady altruistic feeling and the higher senti- ments, is slow and calls for the greatest wisdom and persistence on the part of the parents and teachers. The appended outline will, no doubt, serve a useful purpose; but it should be recognized that the possible emotions are so numerous, and so blend together in vari- ous compound or mixed feelings, that no satisfactory and really scientific classification of them seems possible. Summary. — Feeling is that aspect of consciousness which, through its tone of pleasure or pain gives value to our experi- ences. It comprises (1) Sensations, or feelings of physical origin, due to the stimulation of sensory nerves. (2) Emotions, or feelings of internal origin, which find expression chiefly through the activity of the motor nerves. The physical outcome of emotional excitement known as expression reacts again upon the exciting emotion, increasing or otherwise modifying it. Emotions may be classified as (1) Egoistic, or self-regarding, (2) Social, (3) The Higher Sentiments, which are distinguished as the Intellectual, Esthetic, and Ethical Sentiments. Conscience should be distinguished from moral judgment; it 214 THE THEORY OF TEACHING includes the intuition of a^rinciple of right, the feehng of obliga- tion, and the feelings of self-complacency or self-condemnation. Feelings as motives are the mainsprings of action, and there- fore their proper cultivation is of the greatest moment in educa- tion. Children's feelings differ from those of adult life in their stormy and transitory character, as well as in being so closely connected with physical activities and presentations. 1. General — Organic. Feeling, or Sensibility 1. Sensations (Of exter- nal origin) 2. Special 2. Emotions (Of inter- nal origin) 2. Social 1. Pigoistic or Anti-social Higher Sentiments 'Muscular, Tactile, Thermal, ' Gustatory, Olfactory, Auditory, L Visual. Anger, Hatred, Fear, Rivalry, Domination^ . etc. rSympathy, J Love, Respect, LReverence, etc. f Intellectual — love of truth. iEsthetic — love of beauty. Ethical — love of duty. CHAPTER XXX WILL What Will Is. — The mind not only knows and feels; it determines, in some measure, the direction of its own activities. Images arise in consciousness, either sought or unsought, and these call forth feeling, either desire or repulsion, pleasure or pain. These feelings, in turn, incite the mind to further activity, which may, and usually does, inaugurate bodily activity of some sort. Our images and thoughts arouse feelings, and our feel- ings impel us to do things. But the soul has a native energy by virtue of which it may consent or refuse to obey this impulsion of feeling. Indeed, there may be conflicting feelings and antagonistic impulses between which the mind must choose. This power of the soul to consent or refuse and to determine the lines of its own action is called Will. Will may, then, be conceived as the very core of personality, the central, real self, out of which character develops. A good man is thus a man of good will. Will has been defined as "the soul's power of self-direction towards chosen ends." It must be remembered, however, that the term tvill is used with a variety of significations by writers on psychology. By some, the term is connected with all forms of action, so that, in this sense of the term, all doing involves willing, no matter how mechanical or involuntary the action may be. It is only one step from this broad use of the word to the discarding of 215 216 THE THEORY OF TEACHING will entirely as a distinct and independent function of mind. Different Types of Action. — It will be useful, therefore, to take a brief survey of the different types of bodily movement of which the human organism is capable. We have already, in Chapter VIII, distinguished two forms of movement which have no necessary connection with mind, though they may have an incidental result in con- sciousness. These are: (1) Spontaneous Aetion, the aimless movements of infancy, beginning before birth even. (2) Eeflex Action, which results from the external stimulation of nerve ends, and which may be attended by consciousness, but is not necessarily so. To these we must now add : (3) Instinctive Action, which is, in a sense, reflex, but more complex in character and far-reaching in results. It is directed towards some definite end, but this is not a conscious end, and is generally related to the preservation of the species. The nest-building and migration of birds and the wonderful action of the caterpillar in spinning its cocoon are examples of this blind but perfect working towards an unseen end. (4) We may distinguish another type of movement as Impulsive Action. Though the term * 'impulsive" has been used in a variety of significations by psychologists, it will be used here to denote that prompt and unconsidered sort of action which often follows the entrance of an image, with its attendant impulse, into the mind. *'I did it without thinking" is the only explanation which the impulsive doer can make of his deed. It is a common type of action with children, and is voluntary only in the sense that it was not resisted ; there is no balancing of motives, no consideration of an alternative action. The WILL 217 man who cannot swim but who without hesitation jumps into the water to save a drowning child, an act without justification in reason, acts impulsively. Voluntary Action. — We come now to the highest type of action, movements which may properly be called A^ol- untary, or Volitional, and for which the other forms of action have prepared the way. Here, several elements, or conditions, are to be noticed: (1) A representation, or image, of some possible satisfaction to be derived, (2) The desire excited by that representation, (3) The recognition of an alternative action, (4) Deliberation, or the weighing of opposing considerations. "We cannot eat our cake and keep it too;" which shall be done? All these conditions must be fulfilled before we come to volition proper. All of them except desire are intellectual activities. Desire is primarily a form of feeling, the* feel- ing of unrest, craving, want; but it is also the border land between feeling and will. It furnishes the motive or occasion on which the will acts. Volition proper comprises two steps, or phases. (1) The first is that of Choice and EesoWe, by which deliberation is closed and the line of action determined upon. Some- times, the deliberative process is long and painful, and decision is reached with difficulty. At other times, the die is cast with great promptitude. This will be true when intellectual apprehension of all the elements of the situation is clear. But whenever the point of decision is reached, we enter upon (2) the Executive phase of volition, the choice of means and measures for accomplishing the resolve, and the putting of these into operation. This is the stage of action ; but it will be observed that physical activity is only the last and practical step in the whole process. This executive stage, like the stage of deliberation, may 218 THE THEORY OP TEACHING be short or prolonged. The execution of a resolve, indeed, may be long deferred, as the boy's resolve to be a lawyer when lie becomes a man. In this case, the stage of resolve may be said to be prolonged; the resolution must be often confirmed, or renewed. The Development of Will through Plnjxical Exercise. — Will is developed only by exercise. And it can be exer- cised only in connection with other activities. Its first field of exercise is in connection with bodily movements, the gaining of muscular control. The child at play, learn- ing new movements and coercing his awkward, reluctant muscles into their performance, is taking his first lessons in will-culture. A little later, he will find less agreeable but no less valuable will-training in his daily piano prac- tice, in learning to sew, or to use tools, or in getting more perfect control of his vocal chords and the muscles employed in accurate articulation. Properly planned practice in club-swinging and other calisthenic exercises is of recognized value not only as physical exercise, but also as a mode of will-training. This value, however, inheres only in exercises that are still imperfectly mastered and therefore demand conscious effort in their performance. When actions, however com- plex, become easy through the operation of the laws of habit, they lose in a measure their educational value. There is no disciplinary profit in continuing to practice exercises which cost little or no conscious etTort. In teaching children to articulate plainly, to sing, to move promptly at command, and to control their muscles properly in writing and drawing or in the use of tools, we are doing much more for them than simply giving them skill in practical arts. Development of Voluntary Control over Ideas and Feel- ings. — Another phase in the development of will through WILL 219 exercise is connected with the vohintary control of ideas and feelings. The teacher's most important contact with the will of the child is found in its relation to attention. And this is vital not only in the relation of attention to the act of learning, but equally in its relation to charac- ter. Control the direction of the child's attention and you control the springs of action. In what is called invol- untary attention there is a passivity of will; the act ensues without any consideration of alternatives, in which respect it resembles what we call impulsive action. But when there is division or opposition of interests, the act of choice must be made; and in voluntary attention we have the presence of volition in its strictest sense. The problem, then, is how to secure the right choice and determination on the part of the pupil. From what has already been said, it will be seen that the will does not act without reasons, and these reasons are found in the child's ideals and interests. In short, his feelings and desires, as aroused by his apprehension of things, are the key to his conduct. It is true that his desires are condi- tioned, in greater or less measure, by his heredity, his constitutional and inborn tendencies; but these do not appear in full force in the earliest years. Here, then, is the opportunity of the educator to shape the ideals and predispose the emotional activities of the child, to arouse and stimulate the higher sentiments, before the heavy hand of ancestry is laid too strongly on the growing youth. What early interests shall we inspire, and how shall we accomplish the result? is our first and perennial question. But, as we saw in Chapter XVI, remote inter- ests are the essential condition of voluntary attention ; and it may now be said that all volition implies these remote or far-reaching interests which can be pitted against present impulses. Whatever, therefore, is useful 220 THE THEORY OF TEACHING for the development of wholesome permanent interests is thereby of value for fashioning the will and establishing sound character. The Estahlisliment of Character. — What has just been said derives its validity largely from the fact that Habit has the same relation to volition that it does to thinking and feeling. Indecision and feebleness of resolve may be, to a considerable degree, constitutional, the result of temperament; but much can be done by proper training to overcome the defect. One means to this end is the throwing of responsibility upon young persons at an early age, so that they shall become accustomed, even in the plastic stage of development, to the forming of decisions affecting important results. The gamm on the city streets, through the necessity of looking out for himself, often gets a training of will which is denied to the pampered children of the well-to-do. His fatal handicap lies, however, in the narrowness of his emotional and rational development. Firmness, or steadfastness, of resolve in the midst of diverting tendencies and temptations is a most impor- tant habit of will. This, however, is not the same as obstinacy, which is rather a disease of will than an evi- dence of strength of will. The common misconception on this point leads to much error in the estimate of indi- vidual character. Self-will, or waywardness of character, is usually the result of unregulated and untempered emo- tions, along with a deficient intellectual appreciation of social responsibility. Moral training, or the training of will; is thus not an undertaking which can be separated in any degree from the training of intellect and sensi- bility. The soul must be treated as a unit having con- stant interrelation and interdependence among all its powers. And action is not simply the result of feeling WILL 221 and knowing, but is equally the occasion and the means by which they come into being and reach their develop- ment. It is no accident that the arts always precede the sciences. Summary. — Will is the soul's power of self-direction towards chosen ends, its power to consent or refuse, and determine the lines of its own action. We may distinguish the following types of bodily movement, viz.: (1) Spontaneous action, the aimless movements of infancy. (2) Reflex action, resulting from external stimulation. (3) Instinctive action, more complex than reflex action. (4) Impulsive action, the unconsidered response to images as internal stimuli, and (5) Voluntary action, the highest type. Voluntary action is conditioned upon (1) A representation of some possible satisfaction, (2) Desire excited by that representa- tion, (3) The recognition of possible alternative action, and (4) De liberation, the weighing of considerations. • Volition proper includes two steps, (1) Choice, or Resolution, and (2) Execution. These may be separated in point of time. Will is developed by exercise and in connection with other activities, especially bodily exercise. In childhood, this exercise consists largely in acquiring muscular control. The teacher's most important contact with the will of the child is found in its relation to attention, the motives for which are derived from the child's ideals and interests. Habits of will may and should be cultivated, since these con- stitute the solid basis of character. PART III PRINCIPLES OF TEACHING In the remaining portion of this book, it is not the purpose to attempt a complete and scientillc formulation of the science of teaching. That is a task which still awaits an abler hand; many have attempted it, but the day of accomplishment is still distant. It has been thought useful, however, to attempt a selection of those psychological truths which are generally accepted as past the hypothetic stage and of greatest value to the teacher for the practical guidance which they afford, and to trace out, in each case, their most obvious and unquestioned applications to the art of teaching. It is not claimed that these principles have been arranged in the exact order of either their importance or their scientific dependence; that must be, as yet, more or less a matter of opinion. Yet some attempt has been made to present them in a coherent and rational arrangement. Neither can the writer hope that he has been successful in tracing and adequately presenting all the pedagogical applications or implications of each selected principle. lie has simply taken each in turn as a text under which to advance such practical considerations as seem to him of most direct value to the actual teacher. A secondary purpose to be served by Part III, as was said in the Preface, is to furnish a practical review of what has been covered in Part II. Of course the object of this review 223 224 THE THEORY OF TEACHING is to put the prospective teacher into a more easy and free command of those psychological truths which are funda- mental to his art. The profitableness of such a review to the student has been abundantly demonstrated by the experience of the writer. Note. — It has not been thought necessary in Part III to close each chapter with a summary as in the preceding parts of the book; but it is recommended that the class be required to memo- rize, as a review lesson, the "Principle" and the several "Appli- cations" of each successive chapter. These concise formulations of educational doctrine cannot be too firmly stamped into the minds of intending teachers. CHAPTER XXXI MIND AND BODY Principle I. — Mind and body co7istitute a partnership, Meiital activity is conditioned by brain activity, tvliich is modified, in turn, by general bodily conditions, among wliicli are nutrition and fatigue. The pupil should here recall all that he has ever learned elsewhere which goes to substantiate the above propositions, reviewing briefly the facts concerning reflex action, sense-impressions, sense-defects, retention, and the conditions of attention. Let the class also think out, from experience, or otherwise, the various effects of mental states on bodily conditions, as sudden fear, grief, mental depression, joy, etc. In short, the pupil should summon his knowledge of both physiology and psychology to aid in the full appreciation of Locke's famous apothegm, "A sound mind in a sound body is a short but full description of a happy state in this world." And a happy state must first be an efficient state. Undoubtedly, we shall never have perfection of school work and results until we adopt a system of expert medical supervision of school children and schoolroom conditions. But this, perhaps, implies a new type of education and training for the medical, or sanitary, super- visor. The prescriptions which he should make will not be of drugs, but of gymnastic exercises, of proper dis- tribution of air, light, and warmth ; and these prescrip- tions would often have to be taken by the taxpayer rather than the child. 225 226 THE THEORY OF TEACHING Application 1. — The school must take due cognizance of the chilcfs phi/sical cojidition as regards sense-defects, important epochs of physical developiment, and temporary indispositions. (1) Physical Defects. — The most common and obstruct- ive of the sense-defects liable to be found in the school- room are abnormalities of the eye and partial deafness, and the first danger is that the teacher may not discover their existence. Often, a child of dull hearing gets a settled reputation for stupidity, whereas he has never clearly or connectedly heard the words of instruction or the responses of his classmates; and yet the teacher has not suspected the true situation, a negligence on his part which is unpardonable. In such a case, even if the defect be found incurable, much can be done by giving the pupil a seat where he can best see and hear both the teacher and class. Every teacher should have a training which will enable him to detect the presence of myopia or kindred visual imperfections; and, when discovered, prompt measures should be taken to impress upon parents the importance of seeking without delay the services of the optician. Nothing can be more cruel than to leave such a pupil to struggle on at a disadvantage in his class, and in the world about him, with the added danger of further damage to his eyes through neglect and abnormal strain. Color-blindness should also be tested for, and due effort made to overcome it, or the color-ignorance which often simulates it, by proper exercise in the discrimination and naming of colors in flowers, fabrics, colored papers, etc. It sometimes happens that children find their way into the lower grades of school who are, in some degree, "feeble-minded" and incapable of instruction by ordinary school methods and appliances. This furnishes a delicate Mlis^D AND BODY 227 situation for the teacher, who should, in such cases, seek the aid and counsel of the school officers. The school as a whole ought not to be allowed to suffer from the con- tinued presence of a pupil thus disqualified, however pitiful the case may be. The danger is sometimes a moral danger as well. (2) Adolescence. — Every teacher will be better fitted for his work by as full an understanding as possible of the more important stages in the physical development of children and youth. The kindergartner and primary teacher should study watchfully the physical conditions and handicaps of early childhood. But the most impor- tant stage or crisis is that known as adolescence, which begins with the approach of puberty and extends through several years, though its upper limit is not well defined. The earlier years of adolescence, covering, roughly, the 7th and 8th Grades and the first half of the High School, are often unsympathetically alluded to as 'Hhe awkward age," '*the silly age," and even "the fool age." It is the time in which the boy first comes to a proper estimate of the function of neckties and shoe- blacking. This is a critical time in the life of every boy and girl. Great physical changes are in progress, and the mind is in a state of "unstable equilibrium" ; it is a time of wayward and disturbing emotions. But it is also the period in which ideals are actively forming, and in which the die of life is cast. It is therefore the age of opportunity for the wise teacher, while demanding of him great patience and intelligent sympathy. There is no truer field of useful- ness and service than that of the teacher in the "Grammar Grades," for in these grades, if anywhere, are cemented the firm foundations of both scholarship and character, in most cases. )l'ZS THE TlIEOilY OF TEACHING (3) Tcmporanj Indisposifions. — Pupils are not in equally good condition for mental labor at all times. While the teacher can hardly attempt to adjust his demands to all these fluctuating conditions, he should be watchful to note and regard the more serious instances. The effect of hard colds and influenzas and of nervous headaches, to say nothing of epidemic diseases, makes serious but unavoidable inroads upon the work of the school; while, during the adolescent period, unspoken but watchful cognizance should be taken of the periodic disturbances to which one sex is necessarily subject. This means, of course, that we cannot expect all members of a class to be at all times equally well prepared for the recitation in hand; and measures should be taken, by reviews or otherwise, to distribute and equalize the work over longer periods than the daily unit. Application 2. — Tlie school must fuiniisli suitable con- ditions for work, such as good ventilation, 2)^^opcr tcmpcr- ature and lighting, desks adapted to the bodies of the pupils, and sanitary school surroundings. The detailed sttidy of these physical conditions of school work belongs, as the studies of teachers' training schools are usually arranged, to the subject of School Management, or School Economy. But they seldom receive, even there, the full and careful attention that they deserve. The problem of a proper management of the light in schoolrooms is one that is frequently ignored or inadequately solved. The impositions of our modern civilization upon the eye are so exacting and so unnatural, biologically speaking, that every available means ought to be employed for reducing and mitigating these abnormal demands. The common error of hanging window shades at the top and opening them at the bottom only, is but a single instance of the current ignorance and malpractice. It is quite as much the true husiness of the teacher to he watchful ahout the ventilation and temperature of the room, and cognizant of the flushed faces and heavy eyes which result from disuse of even the imperfect means provided for their prevention or relief, as it is to hear lessons and keep order. It is also the duty of the teacher wlio is not under close and responsihle supervision, as in country scliools for instance, to he qualified in point of knowledge to advise school officers as to the bnst methods of remedying or alleviating injurious conditions in the school environment. Application 3. — 77ie daily program should he so planned as to recitation and study periods, and the suc- cession of various subjects ^ that the pupiVs powers may he duly exercised vnthout unnecessary or excessive fatigue. The brain, like the rest of the body, does not work with equal energy in all its parts; while one part of the cortex is at its highest activity another may bo compara- tively inactive. Great activity of the motor centers, for instance, does not usually coexist with a corresponding energy of those concerned in abstract thinking. "Change is rest" is true of brain activity if anywhere. Again, the nervous system as a whole has times of maximum and minimum intensity, under the law of fatigue. It is greatest in the morning, after the night's rest; it oscil- lates during the waking hours, but is naturally lowest at the close of the day's work. Some experiments which have been collated seem to indicate that there is a con- siderable depression of mental energy in school children soon after the middle of the forenoon session — about eleven o'clock — followed by a partial recovery in the afternoon. In the afternoon, attention again flags in the later hours. These facts, and the experience of all observant teachers, point to the practical wisdom of 230 THE THEORY OF TEACHING placing those exercises which demand most severe think- ing in the fresher parts of the day, and putting those requiring most muscular activity, like gymnastics, pen- manship, and singing, in hours in which the cerebral activity is naturally lowest. Again, study and recitation should alternate in the day's program, though the study and recitation of the same lesson should not be consecu- tive. The pupil's work should not consist in alternately loading up a lesson and (immediately) unloading it. He should be expected, as a rule, to keep each lesson "on his stomach" a little while before regurgitating it. Night Study. — A further suggestion, with reference to students of higher grade, may not be amiss. There is much mismanagement among such students of their even- ing study hours. They are apt to fritter away the early evening hours and then to push study far into the night, after the nervous system has become fagged and jaded. They are often deceived by a sort of fitful and illusory blazing up of nervous excitability late in the night which is both deceptive and injurious, being in some degree akin to the accelerated action of intoxication. One seems then to be thinking rapidly and easily; but the permanent residuum of knowledge and understanding is small. "What seems to be learned at those times, when the student ought to be in bed, is unstable and easily effaced, as next day's recitation so often demonstrates. Those exercises which require least of memorizing and reasoning and most of motor activity, such as writing out exercises and translations or practicing oral expression, may be most safely done in what are, or ought to be, the drowsy hours. CHAPTER XXXII HEREDITY AND ENVIRONMENT Principle 11.— Mental Development is due to the con- stant interaction of (1) hereditary characteristics, and {2) the various factors of enviroiiment which the mind selects from the complex whole, Heredity.--T\iQ principle of uniformity and continuity in nature results in, or includes, the law of Heredity, the transmission of characteristic traits from ancestry to posterity. We may note the distinction between General, or Race Heredity, and what may be called Special Heredity. All men, for example, inherit from their ancestors two legs, arms, and hands, two eyes, the faculty of speech— the race characteristics, in short. More narrowly, each race or tribe, as the French, the Irish, or the Arabs, have physical and mental characteristics which belong to all members of the particular nationality from generation to generation. Plants, too, have their hered- ity, as in the jointed stems and the knotted joints of the Pink family. By special heredity is meant the transmission of family traits or of individual peculiarities from father to son, as in the case of the musician Mozart, the Adams family, and those cases of family resemblance familiar to the observation of every one. There is here, however, no such uniformity or reliability of transmission as in race- heredity. And a wide controversy has prevailed in late years among biologists as to whether physical or other 231 '^32 THE THEORY OF TEACHING characteristics acquired during the lifetime of the indi- vidual are ever transmitted to his descendants, the nega- tive, or Weissmannian, side of the debate seeming to have the advantage at present. Environment. — By Environment is meant all the sur- roundings which in any way affect the life of the individ- ual. They may be classified as (a) Physical, including climate, the habitat — whether shore, mountain, or prairie — food, shelter, and occupation; (b) Social, including the family organization, the community life, political and religious institutions, and all forms of education. It is important to note that environment, both physical and social, may be the same from generation to genera- tion, and thus many results have been attributed to heredity which are really due to what may be called hereditary environment. The question of the relative force and influence of these two factors, heredity and environment, has been much discussed during the past generation, one scliool contending that heredity deter- mines character, and that education counts for compara- tively little; the other side holding that heredity can bo in large measure, if not wholly, overcome and canceled by an education which begins early enough and proceeds wisely and thoroughly enough. It is well for the teacher's success if he belongs to the latter camp and has an abiding faith in the efficiency of education; yet he needs also to be alert to discover the trend of hereditary influences in each pupil, that he may the better under- stand the individual problem with which he has to cope. AppLiCATiOi^" 1. — TJie scliool must proceed 07i the assiimption that all human minds have, in the main, like fundamental tendencies, and yet that each has his oivn individual characteristics. These racial characteristics, due to general heredity, HEREDITY AND EISVIRONMENT 233 furnish the field of psychology. It is for the sake of understanding more clearly what these fundamental human tendencies are that teachers should study psy- chology — not so much its unsolved problems, however, as its assured and formulated results. This will also render more intelligent and successful that personal study of individual peculiarities which is indispensable to the best teaching. The term "child study" has thus come to have two current meanings; it is sometimes used to mean the same as infant psychology, while at other times it signifies the personal study by the teacher of the individual child. Both studies are important, and the one furnishes a basis for the other. The study of psychology helps us to understand what the pupil ought to be and to become. Personal study and insight nmst find him, as he is, and fit the work and training to him. If the pupil is abnormal, it is essential to know why and how far; and even the normal child will have his own peculiar bent of mind, which the teacher has need to discover and recognize. Application 2. — All subject -matter, and the method of teaching, must he adapted to the nonnal pupil, and, at the same time, not fail to find points of contact in each indi- vidual, ivhatever Ids peculiarities may he. Our principle speaks of factors of environment "which the mind selects from the complex whole." No indi- vidual mind is responsive to all the elements of its environment, but each has its own special, predominant interests. Why does a particular mind select one class of phenomena rather than another to react upon? The reasons are manifold. It is here that the inflaence of heredity appears, often giving a bias, or bent, to the mind which strongly determines the propensities, tastes, and interests; the child is "a chip of the old block." 234 THE THEORY OF TEACHING Secondly, at any given stage of development the past experience and environment of the child determine his mental reactions. The principle of Apperception largely rules, by which all new interest and acquisition spring out of the old. We pursue inquisitively only that which we have the mental foundation for comprehending. Along with this law that the new must have its roots in the old, the law of habit also actively conspires. The boy who has been reared on a stock-farm will most naturally be attentive to and interested in blooded cattle or horses, wherever he may encounter them. He will be interested in pedigrees and records, and respond actively to all such elements in his environment ; in which a youth of different antecedents, as a fisher lad, would find little stimulus or interest. llie Field of the Teacher. — But heredity, habit, and the apperceptive law combined do not completely foreordain the career of the child. Aside from the potent tendency to individual variation, there is always room for the oper- ation of personal influence. Personal respect, confidence, and admiration, on the part of the pupil, will strongly dispose him to accept the interests of the teacher, whose greatest successes are often won through this power to inspire the youth with his own enthusiasms. How far shall we follow the special bent or lead of the pupil? Only so far as is necessary to capture his confi- dence in our sympathetic attitude towards his personality and secure his allegiance. We must strive to bring him, ultimately, to a participation in the normal interests of the race and community, and secure, so far as possible, a symmetrical development and discipline of his powers. We should by no means smother any natural gift; but neither should we, in deference to it, prematurely lose sight of the true ends of education. We may follow the HEREDITY AND ENVIRONMENT 236 pupil's bent some distance in order that we may lead him aright in the end ; but the normal type must, after all, determine the general trend of our early tuition. Later, his special talents and interests should be given full play. Application 3. — The scliool must^ so far as possible^ surround the pupil with such an environment^ physical^ social^ ayicl spiritual, as loill seciire the realization of his highest possibilities. During school years, the school itself is a large part of the pupil's' environment, and often a most potent part. This may be seen in the young child in the kindergarten, who is intensely responsive to its influences; but it is most complete in the college life, where the student prac- tically lives in a world apart and is ruled almost abso- lutely by the college atmosphere and traditions, largely of the students' own making. But, in every grade of school, teachers and patrons should conspire to make the school surroundings not simply sanitary and wholesome but inspiring and influential in stimulating the pupils' intellectual and assthetic susceptibilities. School decora- tion and the beautifying of school grounds are therefore matters of the utmost importance, and should be looked after with the highest available degree of taste and good judgment, and not left, as they so often are, to accident and transient impulse. The library and laboratory are important items also, in the school environment. But the most vitally important factor of all is the intelligent, wise, and inspiring teacher. This is the central thought of the oft-quoted remark of President Garfield that *'a log with Mark Hopkins on one end and a student on the other" comprised the essential conditions of the educa- tional process. CHAPTER XXXIII THE LAW OF HABIT Principle III. — All activity, physical or mental, gives rise to certain modifications ^vliich tend to i)ersist and form the basis of habit. The extent and perm^anence of such modifications depend largely icpofi brain plasticity and nutrition, on the one hand, and thoughtful attention on the other. The physical basis of habit and its office in the life of the individual have been discussed in Chapter XXVII. Its relation to the work of the teacher and school deserves more careful attention than it commonly receives. Probably few teachers realize how large and important a part of their work consists in the endeavor to correct bad habits and establish good ones; though all have, perliaps, become conscious of the difficulty of the task. Application. — A chief fiinction of the school is the formation of right hahits in the early years, the forestall- ing or elimination of bad habits, and the strengthening of good habits already formed. Whatever in education belongs to the realm of habit must be attended to and made secure in the early and plastic years. Neglect here is fatal. Whatever is wrongly started will give infinite trouble in its reformation. The primary teacher needs to give painstaking attention to the physical attitudes of children, to cultivate quietude and poise of manner instead of the squirming, wriggling 236 THE LAW OF HABIT 237 habits and imcoutli postures so often and unnecessarily tolerated in young pupils. Much of what belongs to good manners, as the lifting of the hat, modes of address, and personal tidiness, should be early made habitual through the vigilance of teacher and parent. On the intellectual side, such partly mechanical processes as spelling, pro- nunciation, the holding of the pen in writing, etc., should early be reduced to habit; and good habits must be rightly fixed at the outset or bad habits will hold the field. And right here is where lasting wrong is done to many a pupil through the lack of steady persistence on the part of teachers. The teacher wearies of watchfulness and criticism and becomes intermittent, if not wholly negli- gent, concerning such very important matters as the cor- rect position of the hand; and so the great majority of children leave school with a bad habit fixed upon them for life, a serious handicap, though the child cannot realize it. In like manner, the teacher tires of criticising the incorrect and uncouth forms of speech which the chil- dren learn so early on the street and playground; but habit never tires, and the pupil goes out into life the victim of his out-of-school associations and his teacher's indolence. Great harm often results from lack of watchfulness at the outset. The swearing habit, the cigarette habit, and similar vices, as a rule, gain their foothold before parents or teachers, have waked up to the danger. And here is reason why, all teachers, from the first term of school up, should give daily attention to the children on the play- ground. The teacher who takes the recess time to work at her desk or attend to personal matters is culpably neg- ligent at a point of danger. Important Mental Halits. — Of the important mental habits which the school should earnestly strive to incul- 238 THE THEORY OF TEACHING cate, only a few will be specifically indicated. (1) The lialit of tliorouylmess in whatever is undertaken is one of the utmost practical value. As Professor Sully has said, the boy should be early trained to thoroughness even in so simple an action as the hanging up of his hat. What we call slovenliness is chiefly due to the slipshod habit of incompletion. "Whatever is worth doing at all is worth doing well" is a maxim which ought to be stamped into the very brain of every child. (2) Few habits are of greater practical value than that of exact and clean-cut articulation. It is, indeed, only one form of the habit of thoroughness; but its reflex effect is especially important. Muddy, confused articulation is the fitting accompaniment — an index, if not frequently the cause — of slovenly and muddy thinking. And it is easier to teach correct articulation to a child than to an adult; "a stitch in time saves nine." (3) To every one who would lead anything but the mere animal life, the habit of attentio7i, of prolonged mental concentration upon whatever is allowed to seriously occupy the field of consciousness, is vitally important. Some children seem always to retain the habit of mentally flitting from point to point, like sparrows in a city street; while others live chiefly in a sort of mental mist, in which nothing gets focused or clearly defined. (4) A fourth general habit of mind is so valuable that mention of it cannot be justifiably omitted, the habit of watching out for and appreciating the beautiful in nature and art as it daily presents itself to our eyes. It is largely through the neglect of teachers that so many people go through life deaf and blind to the harmonies of the mate- rial universe. "Having eyes, they see not; having ears they hear not, neither do they understand." There is no exaggeration, but profound wisdom, in the THE LAW OF HABIT 239 words of Professor James, ''''The great tiling in all educa- tion is to make our nervous system our ally instead of our enemy. For this we must make automatic and habitual, as early as possible, as many useful actions as we can, and guard against the growing into ways that are likely to be disadvantageous to us as we should guard against the plague." The nervous system of the drunkard and opium-eater is the cruelest tyrant; the nerves of the right and self-controlled liver become his safeguard against evil. "If youth could only know!" It seems, on the surface at least, a mysterious dispensation of "Nature," that the time for forming safe, protective habits, or evil, destruc- tive ones, is mainly confined to the period when youth- ful waywardness is at its highest, while discretion and prudence are as yet undeveloped. "Experience is a good teacher," but a dear one and often a fatally tardy one. The Teacher'' s Duty and Danger. — There is perhaps no part of their duty in which teachers fall so far short of real effectiveness as in this matter of the correction and inculcation of habits. This is a work demanding the utmost patience and persistence; and teachers too easily weary and relax effort. And their worst mistake consists, often, in their uneven, wobbling treatment, urgent one day and negligent the next. The inculcation of good habits should be prosecuted steadily, perseveringly, and intelligently, even though the results accomplished in the way of "book-learning" should thereby be somewhat diminished. The successful establishment of even the four mental habits above named would be in itself a genuine education, a preparation for self -education equal in value to all else that is done in the schoolroom. But the work of habit-forming must be entered upon early, and the danger is that the teacher 240 THE THEORY OF TEACHIN"G will not wake up to its importance till the field is sown with the tares of slovenliness and indolence. Professoi' Jameses Maxims. — In Professor James^'s admi- rable chapter on Habit, with which every teacher should be familiar, he formulates certain maxims of great value: (1) "In the acquisition of a new habit, or the leaving off of an old one, we must take care to launch ourselves with as strong and decided an initiative as possible." (2) '''Never suffer an exceptioyi to occur till the neiv hahit is securely rooted in your life.^^ (3) "Seize the very first possible opportunity to act on every resolution you make, and on every emotional prompting you may experience in the direction of the habits you aspire to gain." (4) ''''Keep the faculty of effort alive in you by a little gratuitous exercise every day. That is, be systematically ascetic or heroic in little, unnecessary points; do every day or two something for no other reason than that you would rather not do it, so that when the hour of dire need draws nigh it may find you not unnerved and untrained to stand the test." These maxims are framed for the youth, or adult, who is roused to take himself in hand by way of reformation or improvement ; but they are suggestive to the teacher of children as well. The first step is to arouse, at the out- set, a motive strong enough to excite the necessary effort ; the next step is a prolonged repetition of the act under proper conditions and without the nullifying effect of lapses and interruptions. And here the vigilance and patient persistence of the teacher counts for much. The child will never fix the right manner of holding his pen, for instance, who is nagged one day and neglected the next. CHAPTER XXXIV THE LAW OF SELF-ACTIVITY Principle IV. — The mind develops o?ily through its self-activitij. Knoidedge and discipline cannot be in- herited or transferred from one mind to another^ hut must he acquired and developed hy one's own activity. Any power of the mind grows strong by the activity of that power against appropriate resistance. We have conceived of education, from the oatset, as development, the unfolding and bringing into fruitful activity of the latent powers and possibilities of the soul. The thought now emphasized is that this development must proceed from within, by the free, voluntary effort of the individual, and cannot be wrought out for it or imposed upon it by any foreign, outside agency. The mind is an organism and, like a plant, it must seek its own nourishment. All that the educator, or gardener, can do is to supply favorable conditions. But as the physical organism requires not only food but exercise, and as exercise always implies some resistance to be over- come, so the mind increases in power only by the overcom- ing of resistance, the surmounting of obstacles. The lifting of straws would never develop strong, or facile, muscles. The kind and amount of resistance to be set before the would-be athlete is a principal problem of his trainer. So, the making of a course of study which shall present to the pupil the most' suitable and fruitful diffi- culties and discipline is a chief problem of the educator. Moreover, the pupil who is trained to intellectual 241 242 THE THEORY OF TEACHING dependence loses much of the best of life. The pleasures of pursuit, the sense of personal power, and the joy of conquest belong only to self-activity. Application 1. — ^^Tlie child attains to hnoiuledge not hy receiving it^ hut hy tahi7ig it. He instructs himself. TJie teacher is the guide ^ cooioerator ., and remover of obstructions only.'''' — Laurie. Pestalozzi puts this in another form of words when he declares that education is only "a continual benevolent superintendence. ' ' We have already met with one phase of the truth that knowledge cannot be transmitted from one mind to another, in our study of the limitations of language (Chapter XXIV). But it may be asked, "If this be true, and the child gains knowledge only by taking it, why not dispense with the teacher altogether? Why so great an outlay for schools and teachers?" This question, What remains for the instructor? should be a profitable one to any teacher who rightly answers it. It is the business, and the sole business, of the teacher, (1) To lay out the loorh. The pupil cannot guide himself through the maze of knowledge. He cannot observe the proper order and sequence of acquisition. Some one must pro- vide a curriculum, or course of study. This, it is true, is usually made by the superintendent, and the individual teacher has only to interpret and administer it; but if not, then the teacher must make it. But in the admin- istering of a course of study there is much to tax the judgment of a teacher in the descent to details, that apportioning of each day's task which we call the assign- ment of lessons. This is a part of the teacher's work, moreover, which is seldom done with the care and studious consideration which the needs of the pupil de- mand. THE LAW OF SELF-ACTIVITY 243 (2) To supply motives. The self-taught and solitary student finds great difficulty in keeping himself to his work; a difficulty beyond the powers of most youth. And even under schoolroom conditions, with all the stimulus and suggestion of associated effort, the problem of keeping pupils up to their work, in persistent industry, is one that taxes to the full the ingenuity and force of the teacher. The study of school incentives, like that of school hygiene, belongs, properly, under the subject of School Management; yet a brief discussion here may not 'be wholly amiss. School Incentives. — The ;motives which the teacher should strive to arouse and bring to bear upon the pupil lie, as we have seen in Chapter XXIX, in the domain of the feelings. But the various emotions differ in value as educational means. We may thus arrange a sort of gamut, or scale, of school incentives, or motives, (a) At the bottom of this scale we m.ay place, as least worthy, fear^ the dread of bodily pain. This was the main, often the sole, reliance of the old-time master. A famous English headmaster was asked for the secret of his suc- cess in getting pupils through the university examinations, and answered, "I have no secret; I ivhip them and they learn." This is the cheapest of all motives, the easiest to command by the muscular teacher and the first resort of the lazy teacher; whereas, it should be the last resort of the self-respecting teacher, (b) Next above this, comes a more refined form of fear, the fear of mental pain, as excited by sarcasm or unfavorable comparisons striking at the pride of the pupil. This may be much more cruel than corporal punishment. Indeed, the objection to corporal punishment does not lie, in every case, in its cruelty. If it is the most effective or available means of bringing a child to himself, as it sometimes may be, it is then not cruel. 244 THE THEORY OF TEACHING (c) Next, as higher in its degree of refinement, we may name the love of approbation, the approval of parent or teacher. Care must be taken here not to cultivate vanity or egotism unduly; the love of praise is sometimes a dangerous flame to fan. There is reason to think that some teachers employ praise with too little discrimination, while perhaps a larger number use it too sparingly. But there is little danger in appealing to the motive of affec- tion ; and many a child will apply himself faithfully from the desire to please the teacher whom he loves and re- spects, (d) Above the mere love of praise, comes the love of superiority and of 2:)ower, in a word, youthful ambition. The boy who is conscious of mental power will love to exercise it; the difficulty here lies with those who lack faith in themselves and feel the lack of power, sometimes mistakenly. Here encouragement and tactful effort to cultivate a feeling of ability to conquer difficulty is of the greatest value. How far the spirit of rivalry should be appealed to is a question for the thoughtful judgment of the teacher; but a spirit of healthy and fruitful emulation is always possible under skillful guidance. Other grades of the desire to excel, as the desire to excel one's own past and mount always higher, may well be recognized; but we pass to the top of our scale. (e) We find here two motives which the reader may exer- cise himself in ranking, the love of hnoivledge for its oivn sake, the pure joy of understanding, and the desire for krioioledge and discipline as a means of usefulness to others. Where these can be inspired or stimulated, the remaining work of the teacher is easy and delightful. (3) A Third Function of the Teacher. — It is a further function of the teacher to develop in the pupil the power of self -judgment, or self-criticism. Every man must carry his education to completion, after school days are over, by THE LAW OF SELF-ACTIVITY 245 the aid of his social environment. For the successful accomplishment of this, he must have attained tne power of self-criticism. The self-taught man is always in danger of being a poorly taught man; he is in danger of "know- ing too many things that are not so." In order that one may develop this power of judging his own performance as to its success or failure, he must first have been sub- jected to external criticism, the critical judgment of others. As self-control must have its first beginnings in external (parental) control, so self-criticism must have its roots in external criticism ; and the teacher should be, in school years, the qualified and watchful vehicle of this criticism. He must unwearyingly yet sympathetically apply the measuring-rod to the performance of his disciples. (4) The Teacher as an Example. — Above and beyond the conscious work of the teacher, there lies his uncon- scious influence through example and personal inspiration. The pupil who realizes that education and study have made his teacher a worthy and admirable person will unconsciously surrender himself to the stimulating force which such a personality emits. And thus it is that the teacher should be a beautiful person, physically beautiful if possible, but at least and always, beautiful in manner and in soul. The teacher of selfish, acrid spirit or of crude and unsympathetic behavior must, in great measure, fail to accomplish the highest results, no matter how thorough his scholarship or how scientific his methods of instruction. Thus the crowning office of the teacher is that of inspiration through his own personality. He becomes in himself a motive. Applicatio:n" 2. — The several 'powers are developed hy occasioning the natural activity of each. ^''Exercise strengthens faculty.'''' This law has various aspects. It applies, first of all, to 246 THE THEORY OF TEACHING the development of physical powers. The leg muscles are strengthened by running and jumping, not by boxing; the arm muscles are developed by striking. The black- smith is not in the way to become a sprinter. Hence the gymnasium director seeks out the weak points of the bodily organism and strives by exercise to determine the nutrition to those parts. Mentally, the principle may be applied to the several faculties, as memory, imagination, reasoning. No amount of exercise in memorizing will appreciably increase the power of abstraction and gener- alization; and practice in deductive reasoning adds no power to the imagination. But the truth, or validity, of the law will be best apprehended if we apply it to the several so-called talents, or special aptitudes, as musical talent, talent for mathematics, for languages, or for phys- ical science. He who would increase his power in mathe- matics must exercise himself in mathematics — the study of language will not do it; on the other hand, the weakness of mathematicians in linguistic expression is proverbial. Again, a person of considerable native musical capacity may allow it to remain dormant through exclusive devotion to the development of other talents. Drawing the lines somewhat more closely, it seems to be recognized as pedagogical truth that patient attention to the study of grammatical forms and constructions adds little if anything to one's power of literary appreciation, while exercise in deductive reasoning, as in geometry, gives no increase of power for the inductive investigations of modern science, as in biology. The question may fairly be asked, however, *'Is there 710 interaction? Does not the pursuit of any one study give a discipline of the mind as a whole which results in increased power for attacking any other study?" In answering this query, the analogy of physical exercise may THE LAW OF SELF-ACTIVITY 247 again be useful. The blacksmith, hammering at his anvil, develops a powerful arm, out of due proportion to his lower limbs; but, at the same time, he improves his general circulation and his digestion by his labor, and gives his whole system a tone which idleness could not induce. So the student of a special subject may, by energetic application to it, induce habits of mental indus- try and close application which will serve him well when- ever another subject is undertaken. It is only in this indirect and general way that the exercise of one power can aid in the strengthening of another. The practical application of all this yields the maxim, A suitable variety of studies should he i^fvovided at all stages of the school course. Otherwise, the pupil will become mentally lop-sided and the ideal of harmonious and well-balanced development of the mind will have been thwarted or abandoned. The fact that a pupil is weak in, and therefore disinclined towards, a given subject, as grammar or arithmetic, so far from being a reason for neglecting or omitting that study, is rather, within limits, a reason for increased attention to it. The boy with weak leg muscles does not luish to run and jump, but he needs those forms of exercise most. But the question of how far and how long the effort to tone up weak powers and secure symmetry of development in each individual case should be persevered in, is one that cannot always be answered by general principle, or rule. Specialization in Studies. — A further practical problem arises in the matter of scholastic and professional special- ization. The race needs specialists, but not a world of specialists. And the specialist should not specialize too soon. The great cranes along the docks of the East River, whose long arms swing heavy freight from the holds of the ships to the wharves, must have strong 248 THE THEORY OF TEACHING foundations — out of sight, below the surface of the water, but broad and deep. They are not simply spars stuck in the mud of the river bed. So the specialist needs, first of all, an all-around foundation of general knowledge and discipline, or his special knowledge will be rendered use- less and fallacious by defect of judgment. How far should this general preparation be carried; how early should students be allowed to specialize? This is an important question; and it brings after it the whole ques- tion as to the wisdom of our tremendous trend, in this generation, towards special courses and elective studies. That discussion cannot be entered upon here at any length; but the present drift towards the introduction of *'electives" into even the secondary schools would appear to be going beyond the limits of wisdom or safety. It seems to be a good example of the American tendency to carry new movements to dangerous extremes. Application 3. — The im^piV s ineparatioyi sliould be in- dependent of assistance from other pupils. Thinhing is individual. Partnership study results in lack of concen- trationy of self-reliance., and of mental assimilation. The pupil who is true to his own interests will not allow a classmate to assist him in the preparation of his lessons. But few pupils seem to appreciate this ; they do not realize that in mental development, as nowhere else, *'every tub must stand on its own bottom"; or they lack the earnestness and singleness of purpose which would lead them to observe always the conditions of success. Thus we everywhere find pupils seeking assistance from each other. "IIow did you work this example?" *'How do you translate this passage?" are, in school, the daily appeals of the weak to the supposedly strong, made, strangely enough, without shame or recognition of the tacit confession of inferiority. Members of the same THE LAW OF SELF-ACTIVITY 249 class in geometry or Latin get their heads together, furtively perhaps, and "pool their issues," making their individual contribution of guesses and experiments, with endless digression and waste of time and opportunity, under the delusion that they are "getting their lessons together." They fail to see that instead of really concen- trating their minds under the strong tension necessary to any increase of power they are actually preventing such tension and trying to substitute sociability for individual effort, a suicidal endeavor. The Folly of Fartnersliip Study. — Partnership study is, in fact, not study at all, but, in most cases, an illusive attempt to escape from the necessity for study. The fallacy of this attempt may find suitable illustration in the field of physical development. No puny youth can profit by the muscular exercise of another. The ansemic girl who needs more adequate nutrition cannot help her case by inducing classmates to help her eat her dinner. If she cannot eat it herself, she can get no possible good from the digestion of others. And so the self-respecting student's motto might well be, "Never ask any one to help you eat your dinner; never allow any one to help you get a lesson." Even if study be taken in the light of medicine, bitter but the least of evils, one must still take his own, and not seek relief hy proxy or by partner- ship. The Causes of Partnership Study. — -The unwise and self -deceptive practice of many pupils, above described, and familiar to all teachers, can be accounted for in many, if not most, cases by consideration of the false views which they have somehow absorbed of the real end and purpose of the recitation, due, perhaps, to the emphasis which is so often laid on "marks," or "standings." These marks seem to them to be the chief end of the 250 THE THEORY OF TEACHING recitation. They prepare themselves, too often, simply to get past the teacher, to meet his demand for answers. They fail to see — and the fault may have been the teacher's — that the real demand is for individual think- ing, for mental tension^ in the recitation as well as before" it, and not merely for correct answers. They fear to make mistakes or bring mistaken results and processes to the class-room, because mistakes cause low standings — failing to realize that a most fruitful mode of advance is hy making mistakes and fielding them out. It is really far better that a pupil should bring to recitation mistakes of his own making, than correct answers begged or borrowed from others, perhaps on the stairways to the recitation room. The moral aspect of this matter is seldom suffi- ciently considered by either pupil or teacher. No moral delinquency is felt in the oifering of borrowed results. And the supreme value of mental independence is as little considered. There is only now and then a pupil who feels a healthy scorn of the mental dependence and pauperism involved in getting assistance from fellow pupils. The majority fail, for some reason, to see that the recitation is the pupil's opportunity to prove to the teacher and to his classmates, and above all to himself, his loyalty to his calling as a student and his trustworthi- ness in the discharge of self-rewarding duty. The Virtue of Self-reliance. — Self-reliance is a chief virtue of the student, and he should be trained to resort always to his own internal resources, to use constantly what he already knows instead of what somebody else may know. Thring, in his "Theory "and Practice of Teach- ing," says that "a fool is one who does not use the sense he has got." Many teachers, to-day, would seem to be engaged in training up a generation of fools, under this definition. THE LAW OF SELF-ACTIVITY 251 The question will naturally be asked, "Should the pupil, then, never receive assistance from any one? Will not this denial result in discouragement and consequent failure?" To this, the answer is that the teacher is set for the guidance and assistance of every pupil; he is the *^'guide, cooperator, and remover of obstructions." The pupil who needs more assistance than he can get in the recitation time should seek the teacher personally, and should be encouraged to do so at proper times and within proper limits; though some teachers go to the extreme of weakening pupils by too much coddling. The wisdom of the competent teacher will be nowhere more manifest than in his management of this very matter, the skillful direction and shaping of his suggestive assistance to indi- vidual students who may think themselves in need. Application" 4. — The recitation is for the sole henefit of the meiyihers of the ' class, and each member should be allo'wed to rea/p the benefit. The impil, not the teacher, should do the reciting. The "lecture system," handed down to us from the pedagogical darkness of the Middle Ages, would seem to be a violation of all the laws of mind when applied to any except adult students of already tolerably well-trained minds. With young pupils, the sustained and continuous lecture is an impossible plan ; but many teachers substi- tute for it a more informal and less thoroughly wrought- out monologue, which is scarcely less objectionable. They are so impatient of the pupils' slow and bungling effort at expression, and sometimes so full of newly acquired knowledge themselves, that they lack the virtue of mental continence, and do, themselves, the reciting which is the pupil's right as well as duty. This loqua- cious habit, which is the curse of so many classrooms, is almost incurable when once formed; the young teacher, 252 THE THEORY OF TEACHING therefore, should guard against forming it *'as he would guard against the plague," for it defrauds the pupil of his very birthright. The pupil who knows that the teacher will relieve him from all necessity for organizing his subject-matter to the end of sustained expression, and let him off with mere signals of assent, has little motive for either the preparation or the expression ; and without these his time is mainly lost. When the Teacher Should Talk. — There is a time when the teacher should talk, by way of supplementing or veri- fying the work of the class; but that is only when the resources of the class have been honestly exhausted. And even then, the help should proceed largely by way of sug- gestive but concise interrogation. The art of questioning is a great art, but not so easily acquired as the habit of inundating the class with talk. The familiar maxim, *' Never tell a child anything which you can lead him to find out for himself," may be too sweeping in its terms; but it is right in its underlying principle, "T?ie mind develops only through its own activity." Two things, therefore, are of vital importance in the teacher, namely, skill in questioning and patience to wait for the pupil's slow and feeble thought to crystallize into expression. The "talkee-talkee" teacher attains to neither of these virtues and, therefore, to no reasonable degree of success- ful result. It would not be unfair, in most cases, to measure the power and value of a teacher by the inverse proportion of his verbal output to that of the class in hand. CHAPTER XXXV THE LAW OF DEVELOPMENT Principle V. — The unfolding of tlie mental poiuei^s pro- ceeds in a definite, natural order from infancy to maturity. This order and sequence the educator must apprehend and observe in order to accomplish his ends. This principle, like the law of self-activity, is capable of application on diil'erent planes with equal truth. (1) To the development of the several faculties. Sensa- tion and perception come first. We must perceive before we can reproduce, and reproduce before we can imagine. Presentation and representation must both be in full play as the condition of conception. Judgment presupposes concepts; reasoning presupposes judgments, and deduct- ive reasoning is not possible till induction has furnished its generalizations. "Every new movement of mind pre- supposes all the prior movements and carries them with it" — in it, we might say. None of these activities, however, can rise high in its development without the supervening of those which come logically later. As we have seen, judgment enters into perception even, and all the powers are inter-related. It would be a serious error, therefore, to attempt to push the training of the perceptive faculty far to the exclusion of the succeeding activities Nevertheless, there is a blossoming time, a period of special and new-born activity, 253 254 THE THEORY OF TEACHING coming on in due and natural succession, for each of these so-called faculties; and the teacher must take cog- nizance of these epochs hoth as to the content and method of his teaching. (2) To the order in which the branches of knowledge shall be taken up, and to the arrangement of the subject matter within those studies. Here we have two aspects, (a) the 2^sijcliological^ which takes cognizance of the laws of mind and the child's present stage of development, and (b) the logical^ which is concerned with the logical depend- ence and order of segments of knowledge, as of algebra to arithmetic, of mediaeval to ancient history, or, more specifically, of the later theorems in geometry to the earlier ones. It is by the correct application of our principle in these two lines that courses of study are properly constructed, the imperfections of our present courses, whatever they may be, being chiefly due to our imperfect knowledge of the child and the deep-lying laws of his normal development. Thus it is that Dr. Dewey and so many others are deeply dissatisfied with existing educational procedure. The reader is advised to read carefully and critically Dewey's "School and Society," in order to a fuller understanding of the principle under discussion. (3) The principle of development has relevance also to the presentation of what might be called the individual items of knowledge, as in the teaching of specific topics, or single lessons, in any field of knowledge. In this con- nection, certain familiar and generally accepted peda- gogical maxims will be considered later on. It may be said here that the term maxim is used in this book as meaning a practical rule for applying a principle. Principles, when formulated, state what is true. Maxims tell us 2vhat to do in conformity with principles. THE LAW OF DEVELOPMENT 255 Application 1. — All educational means and measures should harmonize with this natural order of development. All teaching should he adapted to the cajMhility and condi- tion of the taught^ both in matter and method. It is a blind and astonishing neglect of this truth which characterizes the education of the Middle Ages, a neglect which, by the way, practically reaches down to the eighteenth century in its relation to childhood and early youth. In fact, until the days of Comenins and Rousseau, no real education was ever proposed for children — nothing more than practical training for the social rela- tions of the family and the community. And in this, civilized Europe had made little advance upon the train- ing of barbarous tribes. Children were not thought to be capable of intellectual education; and, indeed, they were not capable of profiting by such education as had then been devised, whether in the subtleties of Scholasticism or the classical training of the Renaissance. Periods of Development. — This would seem to be the proper place for a brief setting forth of some attempts at a division of the school period of life into periods, or zones, of development. No precise or sharply defined limits can be set to these periods, but they may be recog- nized as five in number, namely, (1) The Period of Infancy, extending from birth to perhaps the end of the fourth year. In this stage, the muscular coordinations are comparatively few and imperfect, though, of course, constantly increasing in number and perfectness. The mental experiences of this stage are vague and elemen- tary, as we have seen in Chapter V. During these years, the child learns to walk and talk; bub thw period, even to its close, is marked by helplessness and physical incompe- tency. It is a sort of vegetative period, in which the mind is largely passive and receptive, quickly responsive 256 THE THEOKY OF TEACHING to outward impressions, volatile, and especially marked by the play of fickle and often stormy feeling, emotional squalls, so to speak. At this time, the nurse, the parents, and "Mother JS^ature" are the child's educators. (2) The Period of Early Childhood, reaching on to, say, the eighth year. The time of infantile helplessness is, in a measure, past; the child has greater command of his motor mechanism and greater confidence in his own abilities. He grows venturesome and more inventive in his play. His brain acquires greater consistency, so to speak, and the power of retention, as we have defined this in Chap- ter XVII, rapidly develops. The love of spontaneous activity is the most prominent characteristic. This is the age of the Kindergarten and the Primary School, where direction more skilled and more systematic than that of the parent may profitably be called in to supplement, and oftentimes rectify, the training of the home. (3) The Period of Later Childhood may be defined as extending from the end of the eighth year, roughly speak- ing, to the age of twelve. The child in school during this period is usually found in the intermediate grades, say from the fourth to sixth inclusive. Here the com- mand of language, both spoken and written, has developed considerably, and the pupil enters upon the course of book instruction. In its use of books and in the methods which may wisely be employed, this period differs more from that of early childhood than from the period which follows. (4) Youth, or the Period of Adolescence, extending forward to the age of physical maturity, which falls, perhaps, between the ages of eighteen and twenty-one, varying according to sex, nationality, and other condi- tions. The characteristics of this period have been dis- cussed briefly in Chapter XXXI. THE LAW OF DEVELOPMENT 257 (5) The Age of Maturity, with the majority, lies beyond school years, and is the period of active life. To the student it is the college and university age. Here the lecture method maybe employed, if anywhere; and the student is able to enter upon lines of quasi-original investigation in the laboratory or the library. It is the transition period from school to professional life, and is usually marked by the withdrawal of restraints which have hitherto been needful. It would seem that even the dullest comprehension must recognize that each of these periods of development should receive intelligent recognition in the planning of courses of study and in the methods of instruction employed in their administration. Yet the period is not far remote when all recognition of the nature of child- hood was as yet undreamed of, and only two periods, at most, were recognized, those of the grammar school and the university. IMPORTANT MAXIMS For the application of the law of development to the details of educational work, as intimated on page 254, several important maxims have been evolved, which have sometimes been dignified, inaccurately, as independent *' principles." The first and most comprehensive of these is familiar to every teacher, viz. : (1) ''^All teaching should proceed from the hnoion to the related unknoiun.^^ Yet to many, it is feared, this is only a form of words; any effort on their part to adequately illustrate its appli- cation would result only in failure. A few simple illus- trations are" therefore offered here. The first effort should always be to find points of contact, to discover what images, or ideas, already within the child's experience can be drawn upon in the construction of the new ideas or 258 THE THEORY OF TEACHING judgments. If I wish to give a child who has never seen a swan, for instance, an idea of what the word stands for, I must begin, by questions, to search his mind for the needful materials. **Have you ever seen a gander?" If so, I may proceed to modify the image thus evoked by stating in what respects swans differ from ganders. If the child has never seen a goose, then I must make further trial to discover the "related unknown" in his experience. "Have you ever seen a duck? A big, white duck?" and so on. In like manner, if I would develop the idea of a magnolia tree, I must begin with the appeal to the child's experience, "Have you ever seen an India- rubber tree (as a house plant)?" If not, a hickory tree may serve. For giving an idea of the magnolia blossom, water-lilies may serve as the starting-point around which to gather, by discrimination and assimilation, the proper elements. If it be asked, AVhy should we always proceed from the known to the unknown? the answer is, "Because we 7mtst; the human mind is "built that way," and we have no alternative. Teachers who attempt to disregard this rule simply waste their time. The lamentable thing is that they do it so unconsciously. (2) In all teacliing^ jjroceed from the concrete to the abstract. — Here, again, every teacher knows this maxim as a form of words; but many would be nonplused if asked to define the terms "abstract" and "concrete." Concrete does not mean material. A pear tree or a hammer is a concrete object; but so is a mental image or a burst of anger. We talk about "concrete examples," but all examples are concrete. Concrete means indi' vidual^ particular; while abstract means general. An "abstract idea" is a generalized idea. "In the abstract" means in general^ as opposed to m particular. It may be THE LAW OF DEVELOPMENT 259 conceded that the philosopher can drav/ a distinction between abstract and general; but to the lay mind the distinction does not exist. To the teacher, the terms are convertible. The concrete belongs to perception first of all, and afterwards to memory and imagination; the abstract belongs to conception and reasoning. Pestalozzi fore- shadowed this maxim when he said, *'It is a chief business of education to pass from distinctly perceived individual notions to clear general notions," and Comenius realized the same truth long before. This maxim is, thus, the same thing as "From the particular to the general." For illustration, the concept li7ie is a pure abstraction, purely subjective; it is derived by abstraction, from visible marks. The teacher must begin with marks on a slate or blackboard, the ruling on writing paper, etc., and men- tally eliminate the element of breadth and consequent visibility. Parallel and meridian are highly abstract concepts. North and south, east and west lines are only one degree less so. The child must begin with the con- crete, as north and south fences, streets, etc. The child may observe a north and south wire fence, imagine it reduced to a single wire, imagine the wire extended around the globe, and then imagine it reduced to an invisible fineness. He gains his idea of governmerit, for another example, from concrete manifestations of control which demand his obedience, first, to his parents, then, successively, to his teacher, the policeman, the regulations of the postoffice and the public parks, and, finally, the tax collector. From these varied contacts, he abstracts gradually his idea of government in general. (3) In all teaching^ proceed from the simple to the com- plex. — More or less confusion of mind exists among teachers with respect to the meaning of the term 260 THE THEORY OF TEACHING ''simple." We take it to mean the easy^ contrasting simple with difficult; but what constitutes difficulty in learning? The child may call a long lesson "hard," or one which involves new ideas. But we shall do well to follow the wording of the maxim, and regard complexity as the fundamental factor of the difficult, and analysis as the instrument for resolving difficulty into simplicity. The pupil who would comprehend complex sentences must first understand clearly the nature of the simple sentence. If he would "see through" a complicated machine, as a rotary printing press, he must first be acquainted with the elementary "powers" of mechanics, the lever, cam, wheel and axle, etc. Knowing these, he must synthesize them into the machine. The savage, before he can at all comprehend what a library is, must arrive at an intelligent conception of a printed page, or, indeed, a written ivord. That symbol is the "simple" from which he must start to reach the complex idea of a library, or of literature; and the road is long. A Further Important Maxim. — But, often, the child encounters the complex before he is ready for it, before he knows the simple which underlies it, and is baffled by it. Then his only course is, by analysis, to work back to the simple elements and master them one by one. The necessity for this has doubtless given birth to the maxim, ^^ One thing at a time^^^ which means, so far as it has any validity, that the elements of a complex must be mastered successively and not simultaneously, as in the example of the printing press given above. Another important maxim, generally obeyed in construction of text-books, but less familiar to teachers at large, may Avell enough be appended here; though its relation to Principle V may not be so obvious as with the preceding maxims, namely; THE LAW OF DEVELOPMENT 2(31 '''' Proceed from, the unqualified to the qualificd.^^ That is, make the general rule, or law, thoroughly familiar before attempting to deal with its exceptions. An excel- lent illustration may be found in the proper teaching of the rules of spelling. Many teachers make the mistake of plunging the pupil at once into confusing exceptions, before the rule is clearly held and applied. No wonder the pupil comes to distrust the value of such rules, when he has been thus mistaught. An elaborate example may also be seen in the old Latin Grammar (e.g. Andrews & Stoddard) with the "rule" in coarse print and its array of "remarks" in fine print. And there was a day when pupils were compelled to memorize those uncomprehended pages verbatim, without waiting for the rule to be grasped, through the concrete, with any degree of intelligence or familiarity. For simpler examples, with young children, we do well to teach them at first that the earth is a sphere, without any qualification, and bring forward the flattening of the poles at a later stage. In fact, we usually bring it for- ward so prematurely that the child's last condition is worse than his first; and he goes through life with an exaggeration which is farther from the truth than unqual- ified sphericity. Again, we properly teach him that the sun rises in the east, and leave to a later time the truth that it rises exactly in the east only twice a year. In teaching civil government, we teach the three departments, legislative, executive, and judicial, under unqualified definitions at first, and leave their inter-relations and mutual limitations to be added after the fundamental distinctions have become clear and familiar. We cannot teach the whole truth at once; and the pupil must, in a sense, learn some things which he will have to unlearn, or learn differently, later on. 262 THE THEORY OF TEACHIJ^G Application^ 2. — ^^ Appeal to the instincts as they ri2}en: strike while the iron is hot.'''' As has been said already (Chapter XXVIII), each instinct has its blossoming time, when it ceases to lie dormant, and comes into activity often somewhat sud- denly. If the impulse is not given scope and opportunity for expression during this time of pristine activity, it may be suppressed and die out altogether. Thus there comes a day when the infant is internally moved to walk and he begins walking. No amount of parental urgency or sug- gestion has sufficed to hasten that effort; but when the time has come, all that the child needs is opportunity and time to perfect, by practice, the requisite muscular coor- dinations. Similarly with the act of talking. When the impulse to talk blossoms out, the effort begins and not before, no matter how great the maternal impatience. The boy who discovers an impulse to use tools, for instance, should be indulged and provided promptly with means for gratifying bis desire to "tinker," nor should he be left without needed assistance and direction. So with the instinct to make collections, of postage stamps even. The value lies not in the resulting collection, but in the strengthening of what may develop into a true scientific interest. Every child in a civilized environment develops at an early age the desire to read for himself. The definite appearance of this desire is the "psychological moment" for commencing the process of teaching him to read. If neglected, a period of indifference may follow, when the work may be much more difficult for all concerned. The recent fad of holding children back from school attend- ance till they are seven or eight years of age has doubtless resulted in harm, in many cases, through neglect of this THE LAW OF DEVELOPMENT 263 principle. The child passes the moment of desire and "gets out of the notion" of going to school. "Strike while the iron is hot" is an adage which has significance to the educator in many relations. CHAPTER XXXVI THE LAW OF INTEREST Principle VI. — Attention, the indispensaMe condition of all mastery, follows the lead of interest and is steadied and given purpose hy it. Vohmtary attention sets the mind to the performance of a given mental task; hut involuntary attention holds it to the work. The concentration of mental activity is a paramount condition of acquiring knowledge or skill. No mental experience that does not command attention leaves any permanent, usable result. Fickleness of attention is natural to the young and immature, bnt in older persons it is a sure sign of weakness and should receive careful attention. With all pupils, and at all times, the great task of the instructor is that of securing proper attention to the matter of instruction. The activity of the mind, at any moment, is exercised in the direction of its dominating interest, immediate or remote; therefore teaching cannot be successful in the highest degree unless the interest of the learner centers in the subject under consideration. A chief problem of the teacher is therefore the problem of interest. "Since self-activity is the basis of development, willing the source of self -activity, and interest the most powerful motive to willing, it is clear that the quantity and quality of development will largely depend on the force and nature of the interests which affect the individual" (Hol- man, Education, p. 122). Says the same writer, "Inter- 264 THE LAW OF INTEREST 265 est is both a cause and an effect of knowledge. The original interests urge us on to acquire knowledge, and when we have obtained it, there is generally a desire to obtain more " Interest is an end in itself; it is at once a satisfaction and a desire; it grows by what it feeds on. And so it is a mere matter of economy that the teacher shall strive to arouse and sustain interest in all that he feels it necessary or profitable to impart. From Herbart, the great apostle of interest, we have the division of interests into two classes, those connected with knowing, interest in the objective world, and those connected with sympathy, interest in the subjective expe- riences of others. The interests connected with knowing may be again classified as (a) the empirical, the interest which one has in experiences as such, in the phenomena which surround him; (b) the speculative interest, our desire to appreliend and comprehend relations, order, cause, law, system; and (c) the a^stlietic interest, the attraction and impulse of beauty in all its aspects and forms. All these interests have incalculable value, and all, in turn, should be utilized and played upon by the successful teacher. Nor are the sympathetic interests to be overlooked or neglected. They also may be discrimi- nated as (a) the human interest, a sympathetic impulse towards other human beings as such, (b) the social inter- est, the feelings of desire and obligation which bind us together as members of a community; and (c) the relig- ions interest, which leads us to seek for an understanding of our true relation to the Higher Power whence all this world proceeds. It is only through the due stimulation and cultivation of these interests that we can hope to attain that ultimate end of true education, the realization of worthy character. It has been pertinently said that a chief end of educa- 266 THE THEORY OF TEACHING tion is the multiplication of interests, that is, the develop- ment of interest in all the aspects of the universe and all phases of life, individual or social. All this is implied in the ideal of complete living. Many-sided interests mean breadth and not narrowness of life. It is the teacher's blessed privilege to be continually widening the mental hori- zon of the child by the awakening of manifold interests. Application 1. — ''^Interest is the mother of attention^ attention is the mother of knotvledge; if yon, wotdd tvifi the daughter^ make sure of the mother and gravid mother.'''' — Joseph Cook. Interest, as we have seen in Chapter XVI, is feeling, any form of feeling which calls forth the effort of atten- tion. It is aroused by a proper relating of the novel and the familiar. Its importance as the internal stimulus to mental exertion is perhaps sufficiently appreciated; the difficulty lies in its utilization. Probably no tyro ever left home to enter upon the work of teaching without receiv- ing from some kind mentor the injnnction, "You must make your work interesting"; but who ever received, at the same time, any usable advice as to how to make it interesting? And yet that is a matter which ought not to be left in every case for individual and experimental discovery. A common mistake is made in not realizing that the effective interest must center in the subject studied and not in the manner of the teacher. Pupils are, doubtless, often interested and amused by the "performances" of the teacher, but such interest tends to divert and distract rather than to energize the mind. The pupil must, somehow, be led to forget the teacher and himself in the work, in the topic and the play of his understanding upon it. A few practical suggestions are offered in answer to the question. How interest pupils in the work? THE LAW OF INTEREST 267 (1) Mahe the worh suitaUe. This applies both to the matter and the method of presentation. Nothing will more surely destroy interest and discourage exertion than the presentation of matter of such a sort that the pupil cannot assimilate it by any effort, or by a method not suited to his stage of development. The Epistle to the Hebrews, intensely interesting to the theologian, could by no possibility enlist the interest of the infant class; but to attempt its use with them would be little more absurd than the practice, not long obsolete, of cramming boys with all the detail of the Latin Grammar before they knew any Latin. These extreme examples, however, are not without counterpart in some modern teaching. (2) Mahe the ivorh as concrete as possible. This is, in fact, only one way of making work suitable. But no student ever gets beyond the need of concrete exemplifi- cation, not even the university student of psychology. What the pupil can find individual examples of will more surely interest him than that which is as yet veiled under abstractions, simply because it is intelligible. When the facts are clearly apprehended, then he will be interested in generalizations. "From the concrete to the abstract" is a law of interest. The concrete example which is not fully comprehended is a challenge to analysis and the effort of comprehension and classification. (3) Have enthusiasm yourself. This might be called the Law of Emotional Contagion. The contagiousness of feeling is a matter familiar to every observant person ; and the importance of this principle in the schoolroom cannot be exaggerated. The teacher who "hates children," teaches only for the hire, and has no enthusiasm in her daily work, is the most dismal and deplorable of failures, no matter how long she may succeed in "holding her job"; while even the "schoolroom crank," who has a 268 THE THEORY OF TEACHING live enthusiasm in some line of study, whether it be "bugs" or poetry, will be almost certain to stimulate his pupils to active effort in that direction. And one condi- tion of this enthusiasm on the part of the teacher is a thorough acquaintance with the subjects taught. The specialist, with all his narrowness, has at least this advantage m teaching, that he is an enthusiast. And the teacher who cannot develop a contagious interest in the subjects he teaches, should turn without delay to stenography or to life insurance, "the bone-yard of school- masters." (4) Lead tJie impil to discover new relations not hefore suspected. This is the principle of intellectual surprise. Any one who finds a new and deeper stratum of meaning in what he had thought himself already to have appre- hended, or who newly discovers a relationship of which he was previously oblivions, feels a glow of satisfaction which is a wholesome stimulus to further exertion. The joy of insight invigorates the mind and makes it eager for larger conquest. Herein is the peculiar advantage and oppor- tunity of the teacher of Reading in the grammar school or of Literature in the secondary school. (5) Encourage persistent application as a condition of victory. We should never forget that attention may become the mother of interest. "All beginnings are difficult"; but the pupil who can "hold his face to the grindstone" tenaciously will, after a short time, begin to feel the grit of interest take hold and cut away the obstructive dullness. The first chapters of a novel, even, as with those of Charles Dickens, require persist- ence ; we must dig through them, and the reward may be a consuming interest later on. As we are often reminded, one object of education is to develop the power of over- coming difficulties. Asa means to this, the pupil must THE LAW OF INTEREST 269 be assisted in every wise way to gain the ability to grapple with the uninteresting for the sake of future rewards. But this really means regard for remote inter- ests of moment; and the genius of the teacher will find a worthy field of exercise in this direction of helping the pupil to rightly apprehend and appreciate the importance and yalue of these remote interests which are the basis of voluntary attention. Application 2. — The mind acquires more readily and permanently under the stimulus of ijleasurahle feeling. As applied simply to the depth of impression which is the basis of retention, and so of memory, it may be questioned whether pleasure has any advantage over pain. The Siberian surveyors who secure public remembrance of their landmarks, which are only mounds of earth, by gathering all the boys of the nearest hamlet and flogging them soundly, each in turn, upon the mound, have some- how fallen upon a sound ps}chological principle. We doubtless remember intense suffering under peculiar cir- cumstances more dearly and with firmer associations than we do great pleasures. And pain has unquestionably a function in education. Socrates perceived this when he called it a "gadfly." The pain of temporary failure is often the most effective stimulus to greater exertion. But the dislike of pain is not a healthy or reliable means of stimulating continuous effort. The power of attraction is safer and more manageable than that of repulsion. However, there need be, and should be, no effort after intense degrees of pleasure; they are too intoxicating, and interfere, as we have seen in Chapter XXII, with the suc- cessful exercise of judgment. The desirable condition is that of a gentle or moderate pleasure, gradually increas- ing. Even a slight prospective increase of satisfaction 270 THE THEORY OF TEACHING keeps us reaching for it, whereas a paroxysm of pleasure soon exhausts itself. And the pleasure which should be sought is always of the nature which we have discussed under "The Intellectual Sentiment," in Chapter XXIX. It is the teacher's daily duty to stimulate and cultivate these feelings connected with the pursuit and the posses- sion of knowledge, iucluding their negative side, the pains of ignorance. CHAPTER XXXVII THE LAW OF APPERCEPTION ' Principle VII. — Development^ inteUectiial^ emotional^ and volitio?iaI, proceeds through the interpretation of new experiences in the light of those past experiences lohich have heeii assimilated. Our mental present is dominated inexorably by our mental past, especially those parts of our past which impressed us forcibly and so commanded our attention. These past impressions have become organized into a system of ideas which, so to speak, lay hold upon all new experiences and assign to them a place among tiiemselves, incorporate them into the system. This domination of our past over our present is evidently a most important principle to the educator. Under the name of Appercep- tion, it has been made the cornerstone of the Herbartian pedagogy. What Apperception Is. — -Apperception is by no means a distinct and elementary type of mental activity, like those we have considered in Part II, but is, rather, a compound of activities, involving more especially those of Retention, Association, and Imagination. It is through these proc- esses that our past experience exerts its rule over all new experiences. In another way of looking at it, appercep- tion is the common element in perception, conception, and judgment, namely, the relating activity. Appercep- tion is interpretation. But interpretation is not a simple process; it involves, as said above, retention, association, 271 272 THE THEORY OF TEACHING and imagination. The particular group of ideas into which the new idea, or experience, is received and assimi- lated is called the apperceiving group (Apperceptions- masse). Its character is determined, of course, by the nature and amount of past experience. Apperce2)fioii III nst rated. — For illustrations of apper- ceptive activity, let us suppose a wild Indian to be con- fronted with a variety of pictures. Some of them he could easily interpret in the light of his own life experi- ence, others he would misinterpret, while many he could not interpret at all. They would have no significance, for lack of any apperceiving group to which they could be assigned. Mr, Eoper's excellent little book on Apperception takes for its text the case of a city child who saw a pot of ferns for the first time, and called them *'a pot of green feath- ers.'* Miss Edgeworth's anecdote of the party of Esqui- maux who were brought to London furnishes a case in point. Their chaperons had anticipated great pleasure in their surprise at all the strange sights of the city, but were doomed to disappointment. The poor strangers were only bewildered, and the only thing which excited real interest was a saddler's shop, this being something which they could relate to their ov:n experience; and, at the end of the day.^ their only comment was, "Too much men, too much noise, too much houses, too much everything." A mass of unassimilated, confused, and therefore weari- some, impressions was all that had resulted. The same object will be apperceived differently by different persons according to the nature of their previous experience and habits of thinking. A pine tree, for instance, will be apprehended in very different ways by a lumberman, a botanist, a landscape gardener, or a poet* The tree will have a different meaning to each. So a THE LAW OF APPERCEPTION 273 poem or a musical composition contains for each of us only so much as our past development enables us to see and appreciate. We find in a play of Shakespeare, as has been well said, just what we ourselves bring to it. The principle of apperception may thus be looked upon as affecting our mental development in two contrasted ways, as positive or negative. From one point of view, it seems to be restrictive ; our present is limited by it ; we are in bondage to our past. On the other hand, we may say with equal force that our past is the indispensable servant of the present, furnishing the illumination which alone can make it intelligible. It is at once servant and master; the indispensable servant is always master. Application" 1. — All teaching involves the proper relat- ing of new material of knowledge to luhat the mind has already appropriated. To the new hy means of the old is the law of learning; and the same is true of emotional and volitional development. Understanding comes by relating the new and unfamiliar to the old and familiar. Each new relation established enhances the value of both old and new ; the old enables us to interpret the new, and the new enriches the old. An isolated fact or an isolated lesson has no value for the development of the mind. This proper relating of new knowledge to old involves the use of what we have called the higher laws of associa- tion, the laws of similarity and cause and effect. It calls for a much closer correlation of the different studies, or branches of knowledge, than is usually found in schools. The present drift towards extreme specialization on the part of instructors often results in an artificial and injuri- ous separation of studies, a sort of pigeon-holing of the items of knowledge in separate compartments, which is as futile as it is unpsychological. The teacher of natural 274 THE THEORY OF TEACHING science declines to mend the pupil's deficiencies in mathe- matics, the teacher of history "has no time to teach geog- raphy," and all except the language teacher decline to take any responsibility for the pupil's power of accurate expression. Each is so hot after his particular specialty that he forgets the solidarity of knowledge, and imagines that it may run in parallel and separate streams. Whereas the demands of every teacher should branch widely out to the right and left from the main line which he is pursuing. The teacher of history should be an examiner in geography, the teacher of geography should bo a teacher of physics, the teacher of literature should be a teacher of everything else, and every teacher should be a teacher of language. The teacher of any subject will lose no time but increase the permanent usabi? result of his teaching by knitting his subject on to, and into, every other subject in any way related to it. "United we stand, divided we fall" is also true of the various items of knowledge. But within each branch, or science, the principle holds with compelling force; and here, again, the maxim, "Proceed from the known to the related unknown" finds its field and its justification. Applicatiojt 2. — A hnoivledge of the contents of the learner^ 8 mind relative to the subject to he presented^ and a clear apprehe7isio7i of the hnowledge necessary to its mas- tery, is essential to successful teacliing. Much of the teacher's hard and patient labor is lost or largely discounted from the fact that he has built on sandy foundations. The danger lies in taking too much for granted and assuming that the pupil already has the basal ideas on which the superstructure is to rest, and without which the words of instruction are fruitless and illusory. Here we have need to remember what was set THE LAW OF APPERCEPTIOJST 275 forth in Chapter XXIV on the limitations of language. We can communicata ideas only so far as the raw mate- rials already exist in the mind of the learner. And the logical dependence of the later steps in each science upon the earlier also relentlessly demands that the teacher shall, in each lesson, know wherewith and whereon he has to build. He must know the exact past result of the pupil's study and instruction before he can proceed safely and intelligently. But many teachers with good intentions err at this point. Finding the pupil unprepared to receive and assimilate the designed instruction, they put him back to the beginning of the book, for instance, and drag him again over the whole threadbare detail, instead of seeking, by proper testing, for the missing links, or gaps, in the pupil's past work, and proceeding to clear up the hazy concepts which have served as stumbling-stones in his mazy path. How, then, shall the teacher discover the real situation and thus know where to begin? Clearly by tentative questioning and a judicious recall of knowledge which has fallen out of the foreground of consciousness. The mind must be got ready for what is coming by bring- ing into the present consciousness a full apperceiving group, as much as possible of the system of ideas into which the new thought should be incorporated. And the skill of the teacher will be shown in his ability to do this on each needful occasion without waste of time in desul- tory or misdirected questioning. While it is thus necessary for the teacher to discover the actual state of the pupil's knowledge with regard to the subject of instruction, it is equally important that he should clearly understand the subject itself, that he should comprehend just what is involved in its mastery. So he must always confront himself with two questions, 276 THE THEORY OF TEACHING (1) What does this pupil already know? and (2) What still remains for him to grasp in order to a clear comprehen- sion of this subject? Otherwise, he is liable to either of two errors. He may assume too much as already under- stood, and so build on false foundations; or he may credit the pupil with too little, and so be plying him with a *' sucked orange." **What are you learning at school?" said one to a schoolboy. "What I allers knowed," was the disgusted answer. Nothing can be more productive of utter indifference than teaching that which need not be taught. The considerations here adduced lead us on to Application 3. — The teacher should see that luhatever capital the child has on hand is put to use. The net bal- ance of to-day should lecome the live capital of to-morrow. Unused knowledge is knowledge dead or dying. All knowledge which any of us can really claim to possess is that which has been turned over and over in use, use so frequent as to prevent decay. We are stupidly wasteful if we allow knowledge "to rust unburnished, not to shine in use"; and here again we may quote Thring's pithy apothegm, "A fool is one who does not use the sense he has got." And so to the pupil wo must continually, in some way, be preaching this homily: "Always be asking yourself in the face of any piece of knowledge, * Where have I met this idea before? AYhat do I already know to which this apparently new fact, or principle, bears any relation?' Learning cannot be plastered on to you and power is not a gift ; it must grow in you, out of what is already there, and you have got to work for it all the time; the teacher can only help you, and I shall be happy if I escape doing you harm." CHAPTER XXXVIII THE LAW OF PRESENTATION Principle VIII. — The original data of the mind, the raw materials on tvhich all the intellectual poivers must exercise themselves, come into consciousness through sense activity. The advance to rich images and concepts is through clear and abundant percepts. In the two preceding lessons, we have emphasized the dependence of the mind's present upon its past. This may naturally turn our thought back to the foundations of mental life, the acquisition of the original materials out of which the fully developed and complex conscious- ness of the educated man must arise. Comenius, the great educational reformer of the seventeenth century, gave lasting currency to the apothegm, Nihil est in intel- lectu quod non prius in sensu, "There is nothing in the mind which was not first in the senses." This declara- tion, true in an important sense, has been more often quoted than practically elucidated or applied. Application 1. — '■''In early years, let there he no inter- ference ivith the freedom of sensation, hut rather encourage contact with all forms of existence, and proinote the natu- ral activity of the child in every direction.'''' — Laurie. The vital relation of sense activity to all other mental operations is so evident as to need little argument or dis- cussion. As it is essential to the child's physical develop- ment, and the development of volitional control, that he shall have great freedom and variety of muscular activity in early years, so likewise is great freedom and variety of 277 278 THE THEORY OF TEACHING sensation essential to the culture of his knowing powers. It is much to be desired that parents and teachers might have a clear realization of this, and so of the value to the child's mental life of a wide sense experience. This would include a recognition of the importance to the child's education of travel — country children to the city and city children to the country — of freedom in parks and in the woods, of attendance at fairs and visits to factories and markets. A World's Fair is an event of immense permanent value, educationally, to every child or youth who is privileged to come in contact with it. Indeed, it may be questioned whether the greatest use, after all, of such displays is not in their educational value to the young. Here, too, we find a strong argument for kindergarten exercises, manual training, school gardens, nature study, and school excursions, as all tending to widen the range of early sense activity, and thus to broaden the founda- tions of the child's future mental life. Application 2. — The primary ideas in all hranches of hnoivledge must he taught objectively in all grades of school. In our discussion of the place of Inductive Method (Chapter XXVI), we have already approached this truth. By "primary" ideas is meant those fundamental ideas which lie at the foundation of each science, and which must be developed in conformity with the maxim, "From the concrete to the abstract. " The elaborate equipment of modern universities in the way of cabinets and labora- tories gives evidence of the general acceptance of this doctrine in even the highest grades of instruction. Application 3. — Give the idea before theterin and make the connection sure. If the term is given first., make it the starting point for the development of the idea, ayid take care that the association is firmly fixed. THE LAW OF PRESENTATION^ 279 This maxim has often been advanced in the unqualified form, "Always give the idea before the term"; but the actual experience of children in learning hardly justifies us in making this an absolute rule. Two things only are essential, possession of the idea and a firm association of this with the word. If these are secured, it does not so much matter in what order. Young children, in the home, are continually hearing new words, whose meaning they insistently seek; but they never use the word until they can attach some meaning to it. But the curiosity which is the salvation of young children seems largely to evaporate after their entrance into school, for some reason that ought to be better understood, and they become con- tent to handle words without clear meanings. And this is the fatal thing. The principal reason, perhaps, for giv- ing the idea before the term is found in the very real dan- ger that learners will be satisfied with the word only, and think that their work is done when it is only begun. It is thus that words become "substitutes for ideas," an evil which we have discussed in Chapter XXIV. And this danger is so great and so serious that safety demands a pretty faithful observance of the rule, "First the idea and then the term. " Denomination is Volq final step in the process of conception. CHAPTER XXXIX THE LAW OF ASSOCIATION Principle IX. — TJie mincVs power to recall past expert- e^icesy the conteiit of consciousness from 7noment to 7nomenty and the creative power of the imagination are all depend- ent, in a great measure, upon the suggestive power of ideas ^ or in other words, the principle of association. The concise statement in the principle above given of the offices of association in our mental life should be clearly apprehended and thoroughly pondered by the teacher. The nature and operation of association have been set forth at some length in Part II and might well be reviewed at this point, especially Chapter XVII. Whether we are wholly dependent upon association for the rise of images in consciousness, whether we can ever shoot out our attention to any object of thought, inde- pendently of suggestion by the idea next preceding, is a question of much interest but not of great practical importance to the teacher. His chief reliance must be placed in the laws of association; and his great work, as an instructor, must consist in firmly establishing ideas in logical trains, or series, of such sort as will most service- ably insure the recovery of ideas when needed. To have had many ideas on a subject is not of much use unless they can be commanded when wanted. Application 1. — '•''Enrich your teaching tvith as many relevant associations as possible.''^ — Laurie. That mental efficiency which follows the power of ready 280 THE LAW OF ASSOCIATION^ 281 recall is dependent upon breadth of association, the number and variety of relations established between the items of our knowledge. Says llalleck, "Bind new facts to other facts by relations of similarity, cause and effect, whole and part, or by any logical relation, and we shall find that when an idea occurs to us a host of related ideas will immediately flow into the mind." The great importance to the learner of widely correlat- ing all the facts for which he is likely to have any future use, of knitting together the different subjects studied, has already been discussed in Chapter XXXVII. As was then said, the student should always be asking himself, *' Where have I ever met anything like this before? What have I already learned to which this fact, or principle, bears any relation?" This mental habit of continually striving to organize our knowledge and make the new acquisitions enrich the old ones instead of displaciug them, is one of the utmost value. In no phase of teach' ing will the skill of the instructor, or his lack of it, be more manifest than in this work of securing breadth of association. But it is not enough that facts should be somehow associated in our minds; we can hardly escape that by any means. The important matter is that they should be wisely and effectively associated ; the associations should be relevant. We have already, in Chapter XVII, discussed the greater value of association by similarity and cause and effect. It is true that association by contiguity is a necessity in certain stages of our mental development. It is our main reliance in certain mechanical operations, as learning to spell, learning the multiplication table, and the like. Some facts in geography may also be best remembered by their contiguities, as the States of the Atlantic coast or the capes and bays of that, or any, coast 282 THE THEORY OF TEACHIN"G line. These must be visualized, as represented on the maps, and then held as parts of a visual whole. But teacher and pupil should always be on the watch for more vital relations, for the similarities which are the basis of classification and the casual relations which fur- nish the rational connection of all phenomena. It is this thread of cause and effect which alone can make the physical world or human history intelligible, in the first place, and rememberable, in the second place. So the demand for the discernment of resemblances and causal connections should be persistent in all instruction. What for? What like? and What of it? are questions which should slip from the teacher's tongue, not mechanically, but habitually and intelligently. Application" 2. — "/^^ teaching^ re^jeat and re-repeat^ revise and re-revue, and he always falling hach on ele- mentary facts and principles^ relative to the subject of instruction, so as to maintain the series of associations.^"* —Laurie. What is here enjoined is not mere mechanical repeti- tion, whose purpose is to deepen and keep clear the paths of nervous discharge, but that sort of repetition and -review which brings ideas into the mind in new relations, thus revealing new force and value in the ideas recalled. For instance, one who recalls his knowledge of the force of gravity in connection with the flight of balloons and sees it as the cause of that flight, has enriched his idea of gravitation and strengthened his hold upon it by knowing it in a new relation. Here we find light on the matter of reviews, an argu- ment for their greater use, and guidance as to their char- acter. The most fruitful review is not a mere repetition of what has once been gone over, in the original order, but a consideration of additional facts which involve the THE LAW OF ASSOCIATION 283 same causes, or principles, working under new conditions. As Laurie says, "Be always falling back on elementary facts and principles." The pupil is naturally inclined to center his whole attention on the present day's lesson and drop out of sight that which he has once passed over ; and too many teachers have the same habit, which is really a form of mental indolence. The teacher should give the pupil no peace and no discharge from that which he has once learned, if it was worth learning at all. He should be continually driven back to bring forward the earlier acquisition and see its bearing on the later. That refer- ence to what has preceded which is so inexorable a neces- sity in the study of geometry, for instance, ought to be, to a considerable extent, the law of procedure in all studies. Says Ilolman (Education, p. 117), *'How neces- sary it is to get the memory to do its work thoroughly will be recognized when we reflect that every new experi- ence owes much, if not most, of its meaning and value to the action of the knowledge gained from former experience. That is, the worth of a presentation depends largely upon the work of representations." But the fullness and force of the representations will depend almost wholly on the character and firmness of the associations formed when they were first acquired or on occasion of their later recall. CHAPTER XL IMAGINATION Principle X. — Sense experience, tliough fundamental, is necessarily narrow and has relatively little value until talcen up and recast hy the cognitive iinagination, which gives our knowledge its widest extension. Under Principle VIII, we emphasized the fundamental and necessary character of sense experience; here, we take up the complementary principle. Sense experience has not great value in itself, but in the use which can be made of it. It is necessarily narrow, because our move- ments aro restricted and our immediate contact with the world as a whole is narrow. Even the most widely trav- eled have sensed but little of the knowable universe. It is only when we "take the wings of the morning" that we may "dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea." And to the untraveled, unread person, the world is very narrow indeed. It is related of some Tennessee mountaineers who were summoned to the county seat, fourteen miles away over the mountain, that on their return home they won- dered among themselves whether the world was as big the other way as it was the way they had gone. Application 1. — ^'Imagination is the spiritual potver to which all instruction turns, and upon tvhose cooperation the success of all instruction depends. The pupil appre- hends the words of instruction only when his imagination succeeds in illustrati7ig them hy corresponding images.'''' — Lindner. 284 IMAGIKATIOK 285 Says Tyndall, ** Philosophers may be right in affirming that we cannot transcend experience; but we can, at all events, carry it a long way from its origin. . . . New- ton's passage from a falling apple to a falling moon was, at the outset, a leap of the imagination." It is true that "imagination is always tied to the stake of perception by a cord of greater or less length"; but we should at least stretch the cord and make it as long as possible. But the first and fundamental service of imagination does not involve wide or lofty flights. It consists simply in forming the appropriate images, sometimes very familiar, which the words of instruction represent and are meant to excite. The power which children acquire in school, under poor teaching, of reading and reciting words as mere visible and audible forms, without any associated images, would doubtless dishearten us if we were conscious of its full extent. There are certain studies, of course, in which the office of imagination is greater than in others ; though none are independent of it. No one has the right to teach history, for instance, who has not himself a lively power of imag- ination and the ability to arouse the imaginations of his pupils. No accumulation of dry fact, and no amount of the "philosophy" of history can take the place of a vivid imagining of events, characters, and personal relations. What profit in talking about the Aryan migrations, for example, if we mentally picture no Aryans, no exodus, no march, and no arrival ? Application" 2. — Imagination is the great instrument by lohicli we ''''proceed from the knoiun to the unknoion^'' ; it mtcst therefore be brought into play in all fruitful acqui- sition. If I give to my pupil in geography any clear or service- able idea of bungalows, igloos, or Doric temples; of 286 THE THEORY OF TEACHING glaciers, jungles, whale-fishing, or mines, it must be through the stimulation and direction of his image- making power; and images there must be. Nothing can serve in their stead. Even more, when I pass to teach him of the social relations of mankind, of commerce and its necessary conditions, of transportation and mechanical inventions, of religious rites, and race migrations, must imagination be worked at its highest power or the results- will be lifeless and fruitless, dead and dry as dust. But nowhere more than in the Reading Class is this free play of imagination essential. Let it be, for example, a class in the Fourth Reader, and let the selection be either narrative, descriptive, or poetic, the constant demand of the teacher should be for imaging. *'What do you see here as you read? How does it look? How do you picture that?" If suitable and adequate images are evoked, appropriate emotions will also arise, and true expression, that despair of teachers, will easily follow. The trouble is that teachers take too much for granted ; it does not occur to them that the child's mind is not work- ing like their own, and that his images may be far wide of the fact and leading him into unsuspected confusion of thought and fancy. And let it not be thought that this demand for definite images will prove wearisome to the child. Far from it, for it will all, if wisely and freshly handled, tend toward the sine qua non of learning, genu- ine interest in the content of the lesson. CHAPTER XLI ABSTRACTION AND GENERALIZATION Principle XI. — Abstraction and generalization are the fundamental elements in all thinHng; witliout them there can be no general hnoioledge, no science. TJiey are the basis of all classificatio7i and all definition; but, lihe imagina- tion., they depend on experience for their data. The advance to rich conception is through clear and accurate perception. . In imagination, we pass from the known to the unknown, but remain still in the realm of the particular. We imagine individual mountains, landscapes, or ship- wrecks. If imagination can be thought of as representing relations it must be particular relations, between particu- lar objects. But conception with its twin processes of abstraction and generalization carries us a long step higher, into the realm -of rational thought, which marks the primacy of man over the brute, and which makes the rise of man from his savage state possible. Says Holman, *'Out of abstract ideas arise all our science and philoso- phies. From pure thought-elements of experience we derive other and higher thoughts and build these into systems of thought. These are the highest, and purely rational, values of our experience, and can only come directly from that which is wholly mental. Ideas [con- cepts] are themselves the most general elements of knowl- edge, for they have an infinite applicability. An infinite number of things have size, shape, weight, and so on. Sciences and philosophies involve the most generalized forms of ideas." 287 288 THE THEORY OF TEACHING The formation of clear, accurate concepts and judg- ments is the highest function of the intellect. And since our concepts and judgments are used over and over again in forming new ones, and in constructing systems of thought, the training of the mind to clearness and sound- ness in their formation is the end toward which the hest efforts of the educator must always be directed. This proposition is not in conflict with the ideal of character as the chief end of education, for character itself demands right moral concepts and judgments. Application 1. — ''''It is a chief husiriess of education to jm.^s from disti7ictly perceived individual notio7is to clear general notions.''^ — Pestalozzi. The most important step upward in the development of the mind's activity is that from perception to conception. This step can never be made short; there is no easy road to right thinking. Therefore, at this point the teacher needs great skill and the pupil great patience. Here the teacher is brought to the supreme test, and his own power of clear thought and mastery of scientific method, or lack of these, is revealed in his results. The most difficult of the steps in conception, and so in all thinking, is that of abstraction, the clear determina- tion of the essential qualities of the class, or species. That is why the construction of accurate, logical defini- tions is the most difficult of all mental undertakings. One needs only to observe the looseness with which people who think themselves intelligent apply such words as lily, pine, insect, love, hate, etc., to say nothing of the maudlin abuse of the adjectives lovely, awful, and the like, to realize that abstraction is a process so laborious as to be very generally shirked. Of course, much of this slovenliness is due to pure indolence and indifference to accuracy, or truth; but ABSTRACTIOIT AND GENERALIZATION 289 much of it, again, is due to defects of education, to loose and slovenly teaching in school days. Certain subjects in the school course, and notably formal grammar, are calculated, when properly taught, to discipline the power of abstraction. Grammar is especially a concej^tion- training study ^ if consciously used to that end. The same should be true of the natural sciences, with their precise terminology. But no study will of itself, in spite of poor teaching, produce the desired discipline. Application 2. — The comi)lete method of instruction is i7iductive-deductive; it involves not only the ascent from the particular to the yeneral, hut also a return from the general to j^articulars. Again and again, in our study of the mind and its proc- esses, it has been impressed upon us that the foundations of all our thinking are laid in the concrete, in observation and comparison of individual things, acts, and events. The experience of every teacher should convince him of the futility of attempting to handle abstract notions and generalizations which have not been worked up to by the inductive method. The slough of despond, or mental obfuscation, in which the schoolboy is landed by the all too common practice of beginning with half-compre- hended definitions and general rules is filled with strug- gling or stupefied victims of mistaken teaching, victims of the effort to make the child begin where the scientist left off. But it would also be a serious error if the teacher's effort were confined to the objective-analytic-inductive procedure. That only will furnish the necessary materials for clear thinking, but we must not stop there. It is not enough to attain the clear concepts and accurate defini- tions; the concepts must be turned to use in judgment and the definitions must be logically applied. One of the 290 THE THEORY OF TEACHING most discouraging experiences of any school examiner or teacher in the higher grades of work, is found in the bemuddled use of definitions by pupils, the exasperating inability to apply them accurately when need arises. And this is, perhaps, most forcibly exhibited in connection with grammar, that study which of all others, as elemen- tary logic, ought to furnish profitable discipline in the forming and use of definitions. This comes of the common "parroting" of rules and definitions, the substitution of words for ideas, which follows the premature use of the subjective-synthetic- deductive procedure. It is also, in part, a result of lack of rigor on the teacher's part in the enforcing of sufiicient practice in the application of definitions, when the time has come for their use. The "return from the general to the particular," the deductive process in general, is in effect simply the application of generalizations to the multitude and variety of particular cases which are more or less covertly included under them. And this putting of individuals under concepts, of facts under principles, is, in its deepest significance, the finding of the reason for those facts. It is the method of explanation. When the proper point has been reached for the learn- ing of a definition, the step should be treated as a serious one. The language of the definition should be considered carefully; in every reproduction of it, absolute verbal accuracy should be insisted on— no looseness allowed. And then the definition should be used^ not merely mem- orized ; it should be made a familiar standard of reference and appeal. CHAPTER XLII DESCRIPTION AND EXPLANATION Description and Definition. — This chapter may be con- sidered as supplementary to the preceding one. We have already, in Chapter XXI, briefly touched upon the differ- ence between description and definition. Description takes account of individuals only, and sets forth their more impressive aspects. Definitions pertain to concepts and set forth only those attributes which abstraction has selected as the basis of the species, and therefore common to all its members. Description thus deals with the con- crete ; definition is abstract. Description may be fragmen- tary; it may set forth only some of the characteristics and relations of the thing described, at the pleasure of the describer. Definition, to be valid, must set forth all and only the essential characteristics. Description holds good, so far as it holds at all, for only the one individual ; definition holds for all the individuals of the class. Description implies perception or, possibly, imagination; definition implies abstraction and generalization, concepts. Description and Explanation. — We have now to con- sider a third process, or activity, clearly distinguishable in its purpose from either description or definition, yet not always as clearly discriminated from them by teach- ers, even, as the interests of right thinking demand. Explanation and description are in no sense the same. Definition may be thought of as generalized description; explanation is not description at all, though it may, like description, relate to individual facts or events. 291 292 THE THEORY OF TEACHING Description is concerned with the 2vhat and lioio; it tells hoio things look, sound, act. This, to be sure, involves a recognition of relations; but they are always particular relations. Explanation concerns itself only with the lohy. It is always a setting-forth of causes and requires a comprehension of laws, or principles. It deals with relations, but only with general, or logical, relations. Says Prof. Lloyd Morgan, *'It is of great importance that the teacher should clearly grasp the distinction between description and explanation, and should realize the fact of the invariably general nature of true explana- tion. It is one of the distinguishing features of good method in exposition that description should be kept apart from explanation. Many people use the two words without discrimination. They say, *Let me explain to you where the book may be found in the library'; or, *I will explain how you are to do such and such a thing.' Or they say, *We will now describe why it is that a stone falls to the ground' ; or, 'Describe how it is that a balloon rises in the air.' " A similar and familiar misuse of terms is seen in those teachers of arithmetic and algebra who require pupils to work problems on the blackboard and then call upon them to "explain" their work. It is very seldom that any explanation is given. The pupil simply tells what he has done, or how, with no attention whatever to the reasons why; and the teacher calmly accepts his uncon- scious subterfuge, being apparently as ignorant as the pupil of the true nature of explanation, Exvlanation Further Characterized. — Description and explanation both presuppose analysis; but explanation requires that form of analysis called abstraction, and adds to it generalization, which is a synthetic act. Whatever explains one fact must also explain all like facts. DESCRIPTION AND EXPLANATION 293 Explanation is the reference of the individual to the gen- eral, to law, or principle. It is therefore "deductive" in its nature, and belongs to that return from the general to the particular which was discussed in our last lesson. It is "synthetic," because it puts particular cases under the general rule. Description, on the other hand, is "objec- tive" and "inductive" in its nature. To quote again from Lloyd Morgan, "It is obvious that adequate description should always be made the precursor to explanation. Not to do so is to proceed on the method, not of education, but of cramming. The explana- tion must never be allowed to be a mere statement com- mitted to memory, and remembered, if remembered at all, through the association by contiguity of its constitu- ent parts. One of the commonest faults in exposition is the putting forward of explanations before an adequate preparation in description has been systematically afforded." Explanation, in short, involves reasoning of the deduct- ive, or syllogistic, type; but as the syllogism derives its major premises from inductive reasoning, it follows that both modes are the necessary conditions of explanation. Explanation is always an appeal to principles, or truths, already known in their general form and in some of their applications. If the appeal is unsuccessful, then explana- tion fails. CHAPTER XLIII LANGUAGE Principle XII. — ^'■Language is not merely the necessary ijistrwnent for the comnmuication of thought; it is also an i7idispensablG auxiliary to thought itself. Created iy thought, it i7i turn develojjs it, aids it and defines it, and lightens the hurden of intelligence.'''' — Compayre. The central thought of the above pertinent quotation from the distinguished French educator, Compayre, has already been urged and amplified in Chapter XXIV. The first office of language is to think in. Thought becomes definite only through expression; and the great medium of expression is language. What one clearly knows he can always tell, for he does not clearly know it until he can tell. Ideas find their definite form and body in words, which, as we have said, are not the mere vest- ments, but the living integument of words. But words are also the indispensable means of commu- nicating thought, of exciting thought in other minds. As Dr. Carpenter puts it, "Language is an appeal to the ideational consciousness of another." Nothing absolutely new can be put into the mind of another by means of words; they serve, in communication, only to excite the mind to construct new images from the material already on hand. It is in this sense that language is an appeal. If the necessary materials are not in the possession of the mind addressed, the appeal must fail. If, on the other hand, the thought of the speaker is not accurately 294 LANGUAGE 295 expressed; if, in other words, muddy, confused thinking finds its natural counterpart in a slovenly, inaccurate choice and use of words, then the appeal must fail through its own confusion and inadequacy. He who reflectively and intelligently considers language in these two aspects, as both the vehicle and the body of thought, must reach the conclusion that no other study is so vitally related to the cultivation of the understand- ing as the study of language. The mind that is not trained in the subtleties of words may find concrete expression in valorous deeds or, mayhap, in mechanical invention ; but it can never rise to the level of high and accurate thinking. It will ahvays dwell in the material rather than the spiritual realm. Application 1. — *'i/e ivlio is intelligently analyzing language is a^ialyzing the processes of thouglit^ and is a logician witJiout k7iowing it.'''' — Laurie. The reader who would acquaint himself with an ade- quate exposition of the value of the study of language is referred to Dr. Laurie's meaty little book, "Lectures on Language and Linguistic Method." Here, let us give attention, more narrowly, to the thought above quoted. Just what is meant by "analyzing language"? Several things. We may first think of it as applied to the sentence as a unit. Sentential analysis, if properly carried on and kept free from excessive use of the mechanical crutches of "diagraming," is no more nor less than an exercise in logic. The very terms subject, predicate, copula, attribute, etc., are borrowed from logic, and name the elements of all thinking. It is for this very reason that they also name the elements of language. "By the analysis of language, then, we introduce the young intellect to the analysis of thinking in its whole range," to quote once more from the work above men- 296 THE THEORY OF TEACHING tioned. Care needs to be taken, Jiowever, that the pupil is really analyzing thought, at every step, and not simply pigeon-holing words and phrases in some mechanical dia- graming device, intended to relieve the pupil from the labor of thinking. But even more fundamental and essential than the formal analysis of sentences is the analysis and critical study of individual words. The etymological study of words, known in schools as Word Analysis, is an exercise of the utmost practical value, tending not only to a clearer comprehension of the force of individual words, through an acquaintance with their life-history, but also to a critical habit in the choice of words. The writer of this, back in boyhood days, was made acquainted with Salem Town's pioneer book on Word Analysis; and to this day he esteems it a happy fate that put him thus early on the track which led to Dean Trench's "The Study of Words" and Crabb's "Synonyms." He is firmly of the opinion that the intellectual habit engendered by those books has been, life through, of greater practical value, and intellectual satisfaction as well, than any other line of study in equal amount, which he can name. The value of the study of formal grammar, the science of language as distinguished from the art, has already been touched upon in previous lessons. The several rea- sons for its study may be concisely summarized as follows: 1. As an instrument of self-criticism, in writing and in oral discourse. 2. As a standard of appeal, in the teaching of language and linguistic criticism. 3. As a mental discipline, the cultivation of the power of abstraction and classification. 4. As elementary logic, for the light it throws on the laws of thought. LANGUAGE 297 In connection with the last statement, it seems not amiss to commend unqualifiedly the movement discern- ible of late among the makers of text-books m English Grammar, in which the thought side of grammar is emphasized and the connection between logic and gram- mar recognized. Application 2. — Language is abstract and has conse- quent limitations^ of ivliich one of the most serious is the danger that words may become substitutes for ideas. An- other danger lies in the liability of the teacher to deceive himself as to hoiv well he is understood. Says Holman (Education, p. 316), "Words represent the content of concepts in their most abbreviated and con- densed forms. They fix most clearly and permanently in mind the expression of ends, processes, and products of thought; and they tend to make ideas more vivid and definite. ... At the same time, however, words often prove a serious stumbling-block to thought and commu- nication. Since it would be practically impossible to have an entirely different word for every different con- cept, much less for all the various shades of difference in each of our concepts — for this would prove too great a burden for our memory — we have to use the same sign for several ideas, or things. . . . Great practical advantage is derived from this economy of language, but there is great danger of confusion and error if the inevitable ambiguity is not provided for." In the same line, Sully remarks, "The fact that the child is hearing a highly developed language spoken about him, which embodies the finer distinctions of mature intelligence, must tend to bewilder his mind at first. He finds it hard to distinguish between closely related and overlapping words, 'healthy' and 'strong,' 'sensible' and 'clever,' and so forth." The teacher must therefore 298 THE THEORY OF TEACHING constantly bear in mind the manifold liabilities to error, and apply to the pupil at every step the necessary tests for determining just what significance he is attaching to the terms used. These limitations of language have been more fully dwelt upon in Chapter XXIV, to which the reader is requested to refer, and especially to the discussion of the danger that words may disjjlace ideas. With this evil, as with physical ills, prevention is better than cure ; and the chief means of prevention, the inductive procedure in teaching, has also been dwelt upon in Chapter XXVI. A single supplementary thought may be added here. The secret of power in expression, of effectiveness in public address and in literature, lies largely in the choice of words. This happy, effective choice may be, to some extent, a sort of artistic gift, through quick appreciation of similitudes and the figurative force of words; but it is primarily a result of nice discrimination. Sentimental Tommy, lingering long for the precise word, even to the point of losing the prize, was on the way to a most valu- able habit of mind. The teacher can do his "lad o' pairts" no greater intellectual service than to stimulate and direct, with all possible energy and patience, the power of clean-cut thinking involved in the nice and crit- ical choice of words. CHAPTER XLIV THE LAW OF EXPRESSION Principle XIII. — A sensory stimulus or an idea is incomplete U7itil its motor tendencies have foimd expression of S07ne sort. This expression clarifies^ intensifies^ en- riches, and mahes concrete the original experience, giving it significance and 'permanence. *'A11 consciousness is motor" is a dictum advanced by many recent psychologists. The truth which it aims concisely to express is simply that all stimulation of the brain, whether by external or internal stimuli, tends, with greater or less force, to produce some physical result involving more or less of muscular contraction. The emotion of anger normally results in set teeth and clenched fists, if not in overt action; fear, on the other hand, is more likely to find its expression through the leg muscles or the vocal chords. This motor tendency, how- ever, though real, may be so slight as to escape ordinary observation. It may produce results, as in the case of blushing or internal qualms, in which the muscular activity is not exposed to observation. Again, while the tendency is strong, the overt muscular activity may be counteracted, or inhibited, by internal stimuli, as in the control of the countenance exercised by a person of culture and discipline. With children, as yet naive and undisciplined, the power of inhibition is weak and the habit not yet estab- lished. We see them, therefore, reacting with great free- dom to all sorts of stimuli, victims of sensory impression. 299 300 THE THEORY OF TEA.CHI5TG They liave not yet learned the art of concealment or of self-control. There can be no doubt, moreover, that the free, unconstrained expression which they give to all impulses and emotions tends greatly to increase the intensity and tone, whether of pleasure or pain, of those emotions. In much the same manner, the enthusiasm, or hilarity, of a crowd becomes more and more pronounced and transporting in proportion as free rein is given to its motor expression. Emotion unexpressed is an abortive sort of thing; and the case is not different with ideas. The general principle is quite aptly stated by Laurie, when he says, "There seems to be a general law in the universe that impression completes itself in expression, and that the former is incomplete without the actuality of the latter." But this must- be taken as referring to more than muscular reactions. Expression in language must be included as, perhaps, the most important of all responses to stimuli. Application" 1. — TJie school must provide for adequate expression on the part of pupils^ loth in respect to time and variety. Expression tlirough language^ oral and loritten^ is of the utmost i7nportance, hut is not su-fficient of itself Dratving^ modeling., serving., and other forms of manual training are necessary to give full scope to the chiUVs love and need of expression. To discuss these propositions here is only to reiterate statements that have been already advanced in various other connections. The school must continually demand expression from the pupil of some sort. "Say something that I may know you," was the demand of the ancient philosopher, and it should be no less the demand of the modern teacher. The great defect of the lecture system prevalent in our universities lies in its very limited demand for reproduction on the part of the students. THE LAW OF EXPRESSION 301 The members of the class are, for the most part, passively recipient, with the result that they are very imperfectly recipient. Heie, too, is the evil of the loquacious, top- heavy teacher who does all the talking himself, or the impatient teacher who cannot wait for the slow working of the pupil's reproductive faculty. Great wrong is done to pupils by both these types of teacher. Learning takes time, and no time can be more profitably employed than by the efforts of the pupil to clarify by expression the ideas which he is striving to assimilate and fix in mind. And nowhere so much as in a normal school is it vitally important that the pupil should be practiced in free oral expression. One who cannot talk cannot teach, and the prospective teacher must learn to talk freely and to the point. He must be able to talk effectively or to refrain from talking as the occasion requires. But language is not the only form of expression for which opportunity should be provided. It has been said, with much force, that the mind has many avenues of impression, but that schools commonly recognize but one outlet of expression, language. Drawing, modeling, and the various forms of manual training should not be looked upon simply as arts, aiming to actualize certain material products, but as forms of expression, mental activities in fact, which, in the words of our principle, "give signifi- cance and permanence" to our receptive experience. "Learn to do by doing'' is a maxim which, properly, has reference only to the acquisition of skill. Learn to know by doing, might also be adopted as a maxim of value. Many a teacher has been heard to say, "I never knew much about grammar, or arithmetic, until I had to teach it." What is the real meaning of such a confession except that his knowledge of the subject was made clear and firm by the necessity of expression? 302 THE THEORY OF TEACHING Application^ 2. — '■''When wip?'essions aj^e passive, that is, do not issue in action, they gradually issve in insensi- lilityy — Bishop Butler. '•''Seize the very first possible opportunity to act on every resolution you maltC, and on every emotional prompting which you may experience in the direction of the habits you aspire to gain.''' — Prof. James. The knowledge that does riot evidence itself in some form of expression is a delusion; it is not real knowledge. In like manner, the feeling that does not issue in action is abortive, and will soon be no feeling. The child or man who says, "I am sorry," and does nothing to prove the reality of his sorrow, may keep up the affectation of sympathy, but will soon become incapable of genuine fellow-feeling. The wise teacher may do much by seizing suitable opportunities, as they offer, to lead his pupils into concrete expression of sympathy with the poor and the afflicted. The cooperation of all the pupils of a school in providing Christmas or Thanksgiving dinners for those who seldom taste a good dinner is a familiar example of such expression. The gathering of a contribution, how- ever small, for famine sufferers in India or the victims of a conflagration is a step in the emotional and moral culture of those who participate in it. The teacher will not forget, as the wise parent does not, that there is another and converse phase of this rela- tion of expression to emotion. There are feelings which do not so much demand expression as repression or even suppression. Feelings which are allowed no form of motor expression must "issue in insensibility" ; but this is only a negative result, and self-control should have its positive side as well. The attempt to starve out animal propensities and undesirable emotions by the methods of the hermit in the desert are inevitably barren of right THE LAW OF EXPRESSION 303 result. There is need of a full and fruitful emotional life; there can be no worthy character without it. Therefore, let there be always the strongest and wisest stimulation, encouragement, and guidance of the gener- ous impulses into genuine practical expression in word and deed. CHAPTER XLV WILL Principle XIV. — Every state of the mind is a compound of knowing^ feeling^ ami tuilling^ and ive name the state fro^n its predo7ninating element. When these are in proper halance, they reinforce each other; when cither one is in excess^ the other will suffer eclipse; hut the development of a good will is the consummate result of true education. The mind is a unit and not an aggregation. There can be no volition without feeling, no emotion without cogni- tion; there can be no cognition without some sort of feel- ing both before and after; and volition must always have the guidance of intellect as well as the stimulus of emo- tion. But, on the other hand, an excess of emotion tends to paralyze judgment or render it erratic, as in the case of a man under sudden fear. An excess of the intellectual element with corresponding deficiency of emotion makes the cold, immobile mind, whose impulses are always in a neutralizing balance, always finding as many reasons for inaction as for action. Again, the active, bustling tem- perament, always holding motor nerves "on the trigger," is constantly precipitated into ill-considered action through lack of intellectual balance and, it may also be, without those strong emotions which spring from pene- trating insight or concentrated reflection. The youth, therefore, of an emotional temperament needs to have his inhibitory powers strengthened by the deepening of his intellectual activities and interests. And him of the energetic, impuisiv^e type we should aim to slow down by the same agency of intellectual discipline, that his activity may become more deliberative and 304 WILL 305 inspired by more far-reaching motives; while the one of cold, impassive nature, lymphatic or unsympathetic, needs most the quickeuiDg, contagious influence of hearty and warm-blooded companions and instructors. There is need, therefore, in every scheme, or system, for something more than a course of intellectual exercises, however incisive or logically arranged. Meditation is often wise, profitable, and nourishing, even if not satisfying; but it is by no means the end of existence. Understanding is satisfying and also stimu- lating. But wise, fruitful, self-rewarding action is the ideal and perfect outcome of human life. This is at once the seed and the fruit of that character which is avouched to be the true end of education. A good will is simply a soul with strong altruistic emotions tempered by clear, well-balanced judgment so as to issue in effective and benevolent action, thus to yield the highest type of beauty and goodness. Application". — All the training and instruction of liome^ school^ society, and the church should have for its aim the supplying of motives and inhidit ions for the tvill or to give direct to ill training. It is the aim of every form of education, from that of savage tribes to the highest, to form the will according to some preconceived type, which type is an evolution and represents the social organization and ideals of the people. The higher these ideals, the more complex and difficult will be the educational processes. The lower forms con- sist mainly in the fixing with absolute firmness of certain habits, largely physical. In the higher forms of educa- tion, the habits to be formed will be principally habits of intellect, sensibility, and volition; and the number and variety needful is greatly increased by the increasing com- plexity of civilized life. 306 THE THEORY OF TEACHING The tendency in the education of the past has been to lay disproportionate stress on certain intellectual processes and acquisitions, without sufficiently close examination of their value to the development of character and their con- sequent claims to prominence in educational procedure There has been a corresponding failure to recognize, in school training, the educational value of practical train- ing, the exercise of judgment and skill in doing things and making tilings. Professor Dewey and others are calling our attention to our educational loss in the disap- pearance of the old-time home training which prevailed before the age of machinery and factory production. The student may read Dewey's "School and Society" with profit, for its suggestiveness. Whether the school can ever successfully provide any substitute for this form of will-training which belonged to a simpler mode of life and form of society, is a question which cannot be settled by the dictum of a philosopher, but is worthy of the most careful consideration. Unquestionably, manual training, when fully worked out and systematized, may do much for the training, not of "the eye and the hand" in the phys- ical sense, but of the intellect and the will. Furthermore, since education involves the whole man, the play instincts and social impulses must not be ignored or underestimated. The importance of school associa' tions, of sports, school societies of all kinds, and the social side generally of school life, have by no means received, as yet, the studious attention which they deserve on the part of educators. There can be little question that school athletics, when once wisely organized and brought within the reach and interest of the whole student body, the puny as well as the strong, have educational possibili- ties and utilities as yet unrealized and unsuspected. CHAPTER XLVI FEELING AND EDUCATION Principle XV. — Since feelings sux)ply the strongest mo- tives to the will and lar^gely determine thought as luell as action^ the formation of worthy character involves careful cultivation of the emotions, both in the loay of stimulation and rejiression. Whether ideas can furnish motives to the will except through the medium of the feelings which they excite is a question for the psychologist to answer, if he can. The educator, meanwhile, must recognize feelings as the springs of action and must play upon Ihem, in all their range, as the keyboard of conduct. But he must not be content to leave them as he finds them; the finest part of his work should consist in the cultivation of the child's emotional nature. And it is, no doubt, the most difficult part, calling for the greatest insight and skill. "How can I cultivate the emotions of children? How can I get hold of the emotional side of mind to in any way de- velop it?" are questions which have baffled many an earnest, thoughtful teacher. But to many who are trying to teach they have not occurred as conscious prob- lems. How sltall we, then, address ourselves to the emotional natures of our pupils? Certainly not in any direct and overt way. We cannot, with any useful result, say to the child, "Now you ought to feel thus and so." We cannot set the sensibility specific tasks as we do the intellect. 307 308 THE THEORY OF TEACHIiq^G We are unable to approach it in that way. Our educa- tional approach to the mind is primarily through its cog- nitive powers. But, secondarily, we have access to the emotional nature through the sympathetic, or contagious, character of feeling. Here is something which is not rational but instinctive, a principle of suggestion lying deep in our nature which enables us to exert an influence otherwise impossible, an influence of ten unintentional and sometimes injurious, but potent nevertheless. And it is largely through this principle of suggestion, or contagion, that the educator must skillfully work, not blindly nor blunderingly. Application 1. — "JV^e training of the moral faculty in a self-reliant mode of feeling and judging includes the hahit'iial exercise of the sympathetic feelings together with the poioers of judgment. ' ' — Sully. Two important truths combine in the above text. One is that thought and feeling should be exercised and culti- vated together. The character and quality of feeling are determined in a great degree by the nature of the ideas which call them forth. The so-called intellectual and aesthetic feelings can only be stimulated in connection with the appropriate ideas and judgments. And those compounds of thought and feeling which we call ideals, cannot be set up without the cooperation of the under- standing. The other thought is that our aim must be to make right and advantageous feeling habitual. If, for instance, I become a total abstainer, in later life it will be simply impossible for me to frequent, or even enter, a saloon. My early judgments on the dangers of bibulous indul- gence have resulted in habits of feeling with reference to even the outward appurtenances of the liquor traffic which become protective, even though my ideas covering the FEELING AND EDUCATION 309 drinking of spirituous liquors may, meantime, have undergone considerable modification. But these habits of feeling have also resulted in habits of volition; the refusal of the will to enter saloons becomes ^itself, in a sense, automatic. When right choice becomes thus habitual, character is safely established and the end of education is, in so far, accomplished. But habit is the result of repetition, and the educator must see to it that occasion for right feeling and for the proper association of feeling and judgment are frequently and perseveringly provided. Application 2.^7/ is an imjjor'tant 2)art of the teach- er^s work to sujjphj motives. He therefore needs to become clearly acquainted loith the luhole gamut of incentives^ their relative value and elevation. This work of supplying motives consists, we may say, in evoking right and vitalizing feelings in connection with the daily tasks of the school and the daily acts of the pupils, and in establishing the desired association between them. The character of these feelings and their rank in what we have called the gamut of motives have been briefly discussed in Chapter XXXIV (p. 243), to which the reader is again requested to refer. A practical reflection may well be urged at this point, namely, that the teacher should never be content to secure a desired result by appeal to a lower motive than necessary. The child should be^ kept, so to speak, on moral tiptoe, though caution should be exercised lest he lose the needful contact between his feet and the ground. We must keep within the range of his possible and genu- ine emotional experience, and sedulously exclude all affec- tation or pretense. The pupil who cannot be reached by the highest motives must be met on his own plane, but his highest plane. 310 THE THEORY OF TEACHING Application" o.—The chilcVs interests determine his effort and conduct^ and through these the child can he most easily influenced^ whether they are luithin or luithout his school life. We have defined interesb as feeling, any form of feeling Tyhich arouses the effort of attention. A person is inter- ested in any form of mental experience when it yields a pleasure which makes him desire more of it. A person's interests are those attachments which he forms for partic- ular kinds of experience; in short, they are habitual feel- ings towards certain activities or phenomena. In accordance, therefore, with what we have been saying, under Application 1, the educator will strive to create profitable interests, to establish those habits of feeling which will result in the desired conduct. But all new interests must sprout out from old ones; the law of apperception holds here also. And thus it is important that the teacher should know what are the fundamental interests of his pupils, and get inside of them if possible. The teacher who can enter into any right interest of the child may thereby gain a starting point, a foothold of sympathy to influence that child to greater industry and better conduct. CHAPTER XLVII KNOWLEDGE AND EDUCATION Principle XVI. — The acquisition of knotdedge is not the 0)ily^ nor even the principal end of education; 'but there can he no education loithout it. " What Mood aiid breath are to the body^ that^ in a larger sense^ knoiuledge is to the mind; it is the means of mind iiutrition.'''' The word knowledge is sometimes used to denote the act, or process, of knowing. In common use, however, it signifies the product of that process, the sum, or store, of ideas and judgments acquired and retained. The body of knowledge, in this sense, varies greatly with individuals according to age, experience, and education. Is its amount a matter of vital moment, and if so, wliy? If mental power, or efficiency, and moral strength are the ends of education, is the acquisition of knowledge essen- tial to their attainment? When the writer was engaged in the supervision of schools, he took occasion to ask of the children in many schools the question, ''Why do you go to school?" The almost invariable answer was, "To learn." To the next question, "Why do you wish to learn?" the majority could make no intelligent reply. And it is to be doubted whether their parents would have done much better. The relation of knowledge to education, and to life, is not very clearly conceived by people in general. In generations not far remote, knowledge was thought to be an end in itself. The educated man was simply the 311 312 THE THEORY OF TEACHING learned man, the scholar; and, since learning was not thought of as related either to power or to the utilities of life except in certain mysterious and qnestionahle relations, as magic and astrology, it is not strange that the scholar was not held in high honor or regard. Schol- arship was only pedantry. The modern scholar and scientist had not yet arrived. But the old scholastic view of knowledge has nearly disappeared. What is the true conception which should take its i:)lace, and what is the real relation of knowledge, or learning, to education? Why should the children strive to learn? The Modern Concejjtion of the Uses of Knowledge, — Since the school is for life, we may consider the uses of knowledge broadly, as related to the whole of life. It is clear to any one that knowledge, of the right sort, is use- ful for guidance. The engineer must have wide knowl- edge of the laws of physics, the properties of matter and the principles of mechanics, or fail utterly in his under- takings. The farmer must have knowledge of soils, of the requirements of plant life, of market demands ; and so on through all the practical affairs of life. It is not so clearly recognized as it should be, however, that knowl- edge is equally necessary to the moral and spiritual life. One may be innocent and yet not be virtuous. No man can lead a right life without first knowing what is right, the bearings of actions, and one's relation to all his kind. The question which most troubles the well-intentioned man is, "What ought I to do; what is the true line of duty under these circumstances?" For instance, what is the right course of action with reference to the feeding of tramps? Social science yet lacks the needful knowledge for determining the final answer to that question. This value of knowledge for guidance in practical, scientific, and ethical directions is so great that, quite naturally, KNOWLEDGE AND EDUCATION 313 many stop with that, and demand that education shall magnify this one end. And, even then, they ask only for the knowledge which shall tell us how to do things rather than that which can tell us what is worth doing. Another conce23tion of knowledge finds its greatest, value not in the possession, but in the acquisition. In this view, what the mind most needs is judicious exercise. Mental tension is the prime condition of increase in power. It is the work which counts rather than the direct result of the work. There is unquestionably much truth in this conception; an important use of knowledge is for the mental cliscipUiiG which its acquisition affords and even necessitates. Of this we shall have more to say later on. A third value consists in the subjective satisfaction which the possession of knowledge yields. The mere joy of understanding, of knowing why things are as they are, how they came to be what they are — in short, the love of truth for its intrinsic rather than its practical value — is to most minds a sufficient reason for the pursuit of knowledge. In fact, this motive rivals, if it does not surpass, the practical interest as a stimulus to scientific investigation and abstract thinking. "I want to know" expresses alike the attitude of childish curiosity, suffering pain through its sheer ignorance, and that of the scientist or philosopher, deeply discontented with his relative ignorance as his mental horizon gradually widens. Along with this satisfaction in the possession of knowledge as such, may be reckoned that gratifying sense of power which accompanies its possession. "I know" means much the same as "I can." Finally, a distinct use of knowledge may be found, in its elevating and refining influence. This result is, doubtless, what we should mean when we talk about the culture value of knowledge. It is, in a degree, the 314 THE THEORY OF TEACHING aesthetic aspect of knowledge. But, in many minds, the culture value of knowledge includes also that satisfaction in its mere possession which was touched upon in the preceding paragraph. In either sense, what we call cul- ture adds pleasure, refinement, and dignity to life. Dr. W. II. Payne (Contributions to the Science of Education) lays stress upon the conception of knowledge as aliment for the mind. In discussing the law of mental growth through self -activity, he says: "There must be a supply of something in the nature of aliment that can employ these activities and sustain this growth. In other words, there must be something on which the organism can react in such a w^ay that growth may take place through a process of elaboration and assimilation. The most general name for this aliment is knowledge." Another statement which he quotes is this: "Knowledge is the food of the mind. In order that food may strengthen the body, it must be duly digested and assimi- lated. And so knowledge must be not merely grasped, in its rudiments, by the indiscriminating memory, but it must be comprehended and, so to speak, digested, in order that it may nourish the mind." It may be that the physiological- analogy is pressed too closely in this view; but there seems to be pedagogical value in this conception of knowledge as the nourishment of the mind. Dr. Payne's summing up of the values of knowledge is given in the following scheme, viz. : ^1. Practical jEX^^,. Education Values, j ^ Disciplinary j fP^^^^^' [3. Culture. But we have here only opened up the consideration of education values, a subject which demands the studious consideration of every one who aims to exercise any influ- KNOWLEDGE AND EDUCATION 315 ence in directing the course of education. The subject may be profitably 2:)ursued by the study of chapters in Bain's "Science of Education," Spencer's "Education," Payne's "Contributions," above cited, and McMurry's "General Method." Certain papers by Dr. Wm. T. Harris should be carefully digested, as "The Necessity for Five Coordinate Groups of Studies in the Schools," in the Educational Review, April, 1896'. Application 1. — ^^Apjjrojjriate viatlcr for investiga- tion and study, 'properly ^presented to the mind, excites the necessary exercise, self -activity.^'' — Prof. Putnam. Here we emphasize, in a way, the disciplinary office of knowledge as (1) stimulating to activity, and (2) furnish- ing the "appropriate resistance," on which we touched in Chapter XXXIV (Self- Activity) . But certain kinds of knowledge are believed to have especial adaptation to this disciplinary result, the development of mental efficiency by exercise. Many studies which seem to have little value for guidance in life or for culture in the narrow sense have been given prominence in the traditional courses of study, especially college courses, because of their supposedly great disciplinary virtue. It has been thought, indeed, that the disciplinary value ot studies, generally, is in inverse ratio to their practical or informa- tion value. Herbert Spencer was perhaps the first to openly chal- lenge this view, by his declaration that the knowledge which is best for one end is also best for the other. "We may be quite sure," he says, "that the acquirement of those classes of facts which are most useful for regulating conduct involves a mental exercise best fitted for strength- ening the faculties. It would be utterly contrary to the beautiful economy of Nature if one kind of culture were needed for the gaining of information and another 316 THE THEORY OF TEACHING ' kind were needed as a mental gymnastic," a declaration which savors more of assumption than of argument. But, while this position cannot be accepted unques- tioningly, there has been a considerable reaction in recent years against the giving of great prominence to studies on purely disciplinary grounds. On this, the reader is referred to Dr. Hinsdale's paper on "The Dogma of For- mal Discipline," in the JSducatmial Revieio for Septem- ber, 1894. The popularity of the Herbartian doctrines, of late, has resulted in the exalting of those studies having great "content value," as history and literature, to the comparative neglect of the more purely disciplinary studies. This reaction is, no doubt, wholesome, within limits ; but we should be careful to remember, after all, that, whatever studies we employ, an important purpose is the exercise of the mind in overcoming difficulties. And while studies are not to be recommended solely because of their difficulty, still less are they to be chosen because of their lack of difficulty. The college boy hunt- ing for a "snap" is only trying to cheat himself; and the worst fool is one who fools himself. Application 2. — TeachaUe materials are far- from hemg of equal value as mental nutriment to all pupils^ or at all times to the same pupil. Each stage of advancement and each peculiar condition must he co7isidered in estimat- ing educati07ial values^ and a proper balance and variety of studies should he insisted u'pon during school days. Here we have the conception of knowledge as mental aliment, which may be considered as combining the disci- plinary and the culture ideals. Knowledge is nourishing both in its acquisition and its possession. The more knowledge we possess the better are we qualified for the assimilation of more knowledge. Bat, under the law of apperception, in making our pedagogical prescription of KKOWLEDGE AKD EDUCATION SI*? the mental pabulum most suitable and profitable in a given case, we must always take account of the present status of the pupil both as to his mental constitution and his past treatment, whether successful or unsuccessful. Of course, under our methods of school organization, there is a practical difficulty in prescribing the best scho- lastic diet for each individual pupil ; but the principle remains true, and the teacher should not fall into the error of believing that a fixed and invariable curriculum is best for all pupils. But this is by no means saying that we should always follow the lead of the pupil's inclination or caprice. Application" 3. — The deterynination of ivhat Tcnowledge sliall he pi'esented to the mind for assimilation at a given time, or lesson, must not be left in any degree to chance or accident, but should le regulated hy definite principles of procedure. There is first, of course, the necessity for a general out- line, or course of study, which shall provide for a proper balance of mental activities, so as to exercise the mind on all its sides and also observe the logical sequence and dependence of studies. This will save the pupil from one-sided development, on the one hand, and prevent his being put by an unwise teacher at mental undertakings for which he has no adequate preparation. But even more important, in the case of the rank-and- file teacher, is the more minute division and assignment of work which he must make from day to day. In short, the daily lesson plan is an essential item in the teacher's work. This involves, on his part, the presence of several conditions. First, there must be a consciousness of the general aim of each particular study, or branch — the reason why it should be taught at all. But, after and within this, there should be a distinct recognition of the 318 THE THEORY OF TEACHING particular aim of the given lesson, the reasons for teach- ing it and the definite result which should follow "What real harm would come if I should omit this lesson?" is a question which the teacher might profitably ask himself in each case. The fact that it occupies a place in the text-book is not necessarily a sufficient reason for teaching it rather than something else. Thirdly, the teacher needs to see clearly just what mental steps or processes are necessary on the pupil's part before he can realize the definite result aimed at; otherwise both will be wandering in a mental wilderness. This is a logical necessity, and involves a clear and thorough knowledge on the part of the instructor of the subject to be taught, both in its wider and its narrower relations. Fourthly, the teacher must have a definite apprehen- sion of the pupil's mental status with reference to these steps, of what ones he has already taken; for this must determine what remains to be done. Perhaps no mistake on the part of the teacher is more common or more waste- ful than that of trying to erect the structure of knowledge on treacherous foundations, striving to advance the pupil in neglect of the apperceptive principle and even of the logical sequences. What does the pupil actually know along this road? What foundations has he on which to build? How much can be safely assumed as unnecessary to be taught or retaught? These are questions which must continually be asked and answered by the successful teacher, He must in some way *'take stock" of the pupil's mental possessions with reference to each new topic, or "lesson-whole," in the whole curriculum. And all undue haste, through assumption of iDreparation which does not in fact exist, is only an attempt to "make bricks without straw," to build abutments on the quicksands. KNOWLEDGE AND EDUCATION 319 Finally, in order that knowledge may grow apace and truly nourish the mind which appropriates it, in order, in short, that real mental assimilation may take place, it must be administered not only under proper conditions, but by natural and therefore scientific methods. Method, as we have said in Chapter XXVI, is systematic procedure according to principles ; it is the pursuit of art according to the laws of science. And in the art of teaching these principles are the laws of mind ; they exist in the nature of things and cannot be ignored or evaded. Whatever the child really learns he must learn according to these laws. The teacher may greatly assist him in this process, or, through ignorance and awkwardness, may impede instead of further his progress. The * 'artificial produc- tion of stupidity in schools" is not wholly a figment of the imagination; and it happens, wherever it happens, through neglect of the principles which have been imper- fectly presented in the foregoing pages. CHAPTER XLVIII *THE ART OF STUDY Misa]p2^lied Energy. — Many young people in school fail of even ordinary success in their work from lack of energy. Either they do not possess it or they do not use it in study ; they are either weak or lazy — or frivolous, which means both weak and lazy. For such pupils, no school can accomplish much; they are foreordained to failure, in life as Vy'ell as in studies. But there is another and larger class who put forth abundant energy but still fail of satisfactory results because they misapply it; they do not know how to turn it to account, and so waste it. They are earnest and work hard enough — too hard some- times — and yet fail of full success. They are often con- scious of this and so worry, and do not get the pleasure out of study to which they are properly entitled. They suffer simply because they have never learned how to study. And this is the fault of their teachers. Why should this be so? Why do not all teachers teach their pupils how to study, how to apply their minds to their work successfully? Chiefly, perhaps, because they do not know how themselves, or at least do not know how to direct others. There are no ready-made recipes for successful study, no formulae which we can mechanically apply. We must fall back on principles. ♦This chapter comprises the substance of two talks made to the students of the Whitewater Normal School at *' morning exercises." It is appended here as in harmony with the purposes of the preceding chapters and supple- mentary to them. 320 THE ART OF STUDY 321 The Principle of Coiicentration.— The first great prin- ciple of study, then, is that of Concentration. In Physics, we learn "the law of impenetrability," that two bodies cannot occupy the same space at the same time. Now the law of concentration is simply the law of impenetra- bility applied to mental operations. The student should remember the following simple, self-evident propositions: (I) You cannot learn a lesson and do a lot of other things at the same time. You cannot be a student and a "flutter-budget" at the same time. To master a lesson, you must "bone down" and stay at it. Half an hour of mental concentration is better than an hour and a half of flitting, or mental sauntering. The worst and most com- mon of all mistakes in study is that of dawdling. (2) You 3annot get a lesson and entertain company at the same time. Study is never a social activity. You cannot study and talk at the same time ; when you are talking you are not studying. The talkative roommate is an expensive nuisance. "Mind each your own business, and keep your tongues still" is one good practical rule, at least, for suc- cessful study. "May John and I study our lesson together?" is a request often heard in country schools, at least; and many a teacher has fallen into that pitfall. It seems a reasonable request until we consider that two boys cafMiot study together. Study is an individual affair; and "studying together". is only a plausible way of wasting time. The Princi^jle of Reflection. — A second principle of study is that of Reflection. It is not enough to bend one's gaze resolutely and continuously upon the book; one must thinh. It is not enough merely to see, or to say, the words of the lesson, no matter how often. The pupil must think into the words before him, must realize their full and exact force, must be able to illustrate their 322 THE THEORY OF TEAOHIKG meaning. This is the supreme test of one's understand- ing of a statement, the ability to illustrate its ai^plication. The need of concentration and of surroundings favorable to concentration is simply in order that we may think. It may be useful to explain a little more specifically what is meant by thinking. As here applied to study, it means (1) Comprehending the meaning of abstract terms, what is technically called conception. In every branch of study, as grammar, arithmetic, or geography, there are many technical terms, belonging especially to that subject. These must all be clearly comprehended or they are like algebraic symbols of unknown quantities. We only juggle with them unless we can reduce them to terms of the known. Our use, or abuse, of definitions illustrates this matter pertinently; they are mere verbal formulae, or lingoes, unless we think clearly the exact meaning of all their terms. And how often we hear from a pupil, when called upon to explain a term, the feeble answer, "I can't define it," a confession that he cannot, or does not thinh it. If we have thought clearly what a word really means, we can define it. And a ready-made, second-hand definition is of no value to us unless we can apply it, exemplify it. So the first thing to do with a lesson is to understand it, to know what it says, what its words mean. (2) Another phase of thinking is that called reasoning, the deriving of new judgments, or conclusions, as conse- quences, from previous ones. It is, in a sense, only turn- ing to account what we already know by analyzing it to see what it really involves, or by putting together what we already know in order to know more. A familiar charac- teristic of the average student is his lack of ability, or disposition, to use what he already knows. He lacks the habit of **putting this, and that together" to see their bearing on each other. THE ART OF STUDY 323 The Principle of Organization. — (3) But it is not enough, even, that the pupil understand the lesson; he must organize his knowledge, must analyze it so as to see what are the important parts, or points, and then hang the other matter about these. The third principle of study is, thus, that of Organization^ the proper relating and association of facts. There are two relations between facts, which, above all others, we need to be looking out for continually. The first is that of similarity, or common nature. The labor of study consists largely in the teaching of resemblances, not superficial but intrinsic similarity. With this goes, also, discrimination, the watch for essential differences. For example, in a study of our *' Spanish War," in order to really understand it we must be able to classify it with like wars. But in order to classify it we must first dis- criminate it from all unlike wars. The second vital relation is that of cause and effect. Any immediate fact can have little value or interest to me unless I recognize it, on the one hand, as an effect of a discoverable cause, and, on the other hand, as a cause of discoverable results. Study should involve a constant watch for this relation between the fact under considera- tion at any time and others already familiar. It is by these two principles of similarity, or common nature, and the causal tie that we organize our knowledge and give it vitality. Our whole mental acquisition should be like a spreading tree, of which each item of knowledge is a liv- ing, growing twig. The Practical Conditions of Successful Study. — To turn from this somewhat theoretical discussion of the necessary elements of real study to the immediately practical side of the business, let us briefly touch upon some of the external conditions favoring such study and some of the B24: THE THEORY OF TEACHIIS'G mistakes to which pupils are naturally prone. To the pupil who has not yefc acquired the habits of close con- centration and reflection, quiet surroundings are a neces- sary condition. All distractions from the immediate surroundings should be reduced to the minimum. The family living-room with its miscellaneous attractions is a most unsuitable environment. A disorderly, turbulent schoolroom is little better. But to the noises of the street and the usual movements of the school, the pupil must become habituated. The pupil who cannot concentrate attention in the presence of familiar, unavoidable distrac- tions has not yet learned the first lesson in mental appli- cation. Favorable conditions as to light, temperature, and bodily comfort should be secured as far as practicable, and considerable freedom as to bodily posture may be allowed; mental attitude is the vital thing, and the body should be dismissed from consciousness if possible. In the case of night study, it is of no small importance that the light should be of adequate power and properly placed. If possible, it should shine over the reader's shoulder, if not, it should be properly shaded. A study lamp without a suitable shade is an enormity. By day, an open window is the worst possible location for studious application, a very effective bid for mind-wandering. A Common Mistake in Study. — Probably the worst of all evil practices connected with ostensible stud^ is the time-honored one of trying to learn a lesson by simply reading it over and over as a whole. This, in my boyhood days, was the regulation way of "studying" a spelling lesson. Each repetition became more mechanical and less critical than the last, until the whole process became one of mere silent or audible mumbling. Such a way of learning a lesson is, when we think about it, a first-class THE ART or STUDY 325 illustration of how not to do it. So far as rea-ding a book- lesson is concerned, only two readings, as a rule, need be given, and these not to the lesson as a whole, but to the several paragraphs, or sub-topics, one by one. The first reading should be for com/preliension^ with no other pur- pose than to understand what is presented. This reading should be deliberate and analytic. The second reading should be with intent to organize the matter and fix it in mind. Any additional time should be devoted to the effort of reproduction, thinking through the matter with- out more than occasional reference to the book. Com- prehend and learn thoroughly whatever is attempted, even though it be only part of the assignment. If the assign- ment was too lengthy, let the teacher find it out through your inability to compass the whole in a proper manner. As a rule, it is far better to master a part of the lesson assigned than to "skim" the whole of it. A closing remark may be made concerning the use, or rather the making, of tabular outlines. As a means, or method, of clearly apprehending relations and organizing the knowledge under process of acquisition, such analysis of subject-matter is of the greatest value. In fact, it is in many cases indispensable. But it is much to be pre- ferred that the student work out such outlines for himself. A ready-made tabulation, furnished by the text-book or the teacher, has comparatively little value except for review purposes; while one worked out by the student himself is a sure means to real comprehension, and a valuable aid to retention. INDEX Abstraction, 129; difficulty of, 288; factor in conception, 129; pedagogical importance of, 287. Abstract and concrete, 258, 267. Abstract notions, 130. Accommodation of the eye, 69. Accuracy in the use of words, 171. Action, different types of, 217; impulsive, 41, 217; instinctive, 217; reflex, 38 ff., 217; spontaneous, 41, 217; voluntary, 218. Active touch, 56; schoolmaster of siglit, 74. Adolescence, 227; period of, 256. Aesthetic imagination, 120. Aesthetic sentiment, the, 210. After-images, positive, 76; negative, 77. Analogy, reasoning by, 157. Analysis, 174; definition of, 175; discrimina- tion and, 176; synthesis and, 175. Analytic method, 181. Animals, language of, 162; can they think? 163. Apperception, law cf, 271; defined, 271; illus- trated, 272; application of, 273. Arborization of nerve fibers, 35. Art of study, 320 ff. Artist, the feeling of the, 120. Assimilation, a fundamental process, 16; a stage in perception, 87. Association of ideas, 103 ff.; laws of, 103 ff., 107; by contiguity, 105; in learning to read, 106; higher forms of, 107; breadth of asso- ciation, 108, 281; divergent associations, 108; pedagogical law of, 280. Associational thinking, 164. Attention, defined, 93; conditions of, 94; kinds of, 96; voluntary att., 96; follows the lead of interest, 264; mother of inter- est, 266. Auditory nerve, 60, 61. Automatic imagination, 118; memory, 113. Axis cylinder, 27. Axones, 35, 36. Babe, new-born, mental status of, 20. Basilar membrane, 61, Blind spot, 67. Blind, limitations of the, 80. Blind-deaf, the, 84. Brain, the, 26; changes of in retention, 101. Bridgman, Laura, 84. Carpenter, Dr., definition of language, 294. Cause and effect, law of, 104. Cell bodies of neurones, 36. Cerebellum, the, 26. Cerebrum, the, 26. Character, establishment of, 22. Child study, 233. Childhood, Wordsworth's ode, 123; feelings of, 212; period of, 256. Childish fancy, 124. Children, imagination of, 122. Choice, 218. Choice of words, accuracy in, 171, 298. Cochlea, the, 58, 60. Cognitive imagination, 119. Cold spots, 47. Color-blindness, 82. Communication, how far possible, 168. Complete method, 183, 289. Concentration of consciousness, 93; in study, 321. Conception, 128 ff.; process of, 129; summary of, 136; relation to judgment, 149. Concepts, nature of, 128 ff.; growth of illus- trated, 130; classes, or kinds of, 130; definition of, 131; , cannot be imaged, 131; not fixed in content, 132; children's con- cepts, 132; relations of concepts, 133; in series, 135. Concrete and abstract, 258, 267. Confusion of taste and smell, 50. Conscience, 211. Consciousness, what, 17, 93; the first, 21; distribution of, 93; focal, 93. Construction in imagination, 117. Contiguity, law of, 103; examples of, 106. Contrast, law of, 105. Copula, the, 142. Deaf, limitations of the, 81. Deductive reasoning, 151; dangers of, 152. Deductive method, 182, 183. Defects, sense, 79 ff.; of hearing, 81, 83; of sight, 81 ff. Definition, 137; structure of a, 137; rules of, 138; exercise in, 139; place in school work, 290, 322; differs how from description, 291. Demonstrative reasoning, 153. Dendrites, 35. Dendrons, 34. Denomination, 130. Description and definition, 291; and expla- nation, 291. Desire, 218. Development, involves what, 6; the law of, 253; natural order of, 253; periods of, 255 ff. Discrimination, a fundamental process, 16; a stage in perception, 87; relation to anal- ysis, 176. Disparagement of memory. 111. Dissociation, 117. 327 328 IKDEX Distance, auditory determination of, 63; visual signs of, 72. Division, logical, 139; rules for, 140. Ear, the external, 58; the internal, 59. Education, defined, 6; factors, 7; statements of the end of, 8 ff.; feeling and, 307 ff.; knowledge and, 311 ff. Education values, 314. Emotions. 207; different tjTes of, 209. End organs, 32; af touch, 53. Environment, 232; of school, 235. Equilibrium, sense of, 60. Ethical imagination, 121. Euler's notation, 142, 145. Exercise strengthens faculty, 246. Explanation and description, 291; further characterized, 292. Expression, of feeling, 207; pedagogical law of, 299; school must provide for, 300. Extension, and intension, 134. Eye, structure of, 66; muscular sensations of, 70. Eyeball, muscles of, 70, 74. Fact vs. truth, 2. Fallacies, logical, 152. Fancy, in children, 124; confusion of fact and, 124. Fatigue, sensations of, 52; in school, 229, 230. Feeling, defined, 16, 206; classification of, 206; reflexive effect of, 207; genesis of, 208; pleasure-pain element, 209; social feelings, 209; asmotive,2]2, 307; children's feelings, 212; tabular outline of, 214; sum- mary of, 214; relation to knowing and will- ing, 304; and education, 307 ff. Fool, Thring's definition of, 250, 276. Fovea, the, 67. Geometry, syllogism in, 153. General judgments, 144; how we come by them, 154. General method, 178 ff. Generalization, stage in conception, 129. Genus and species, 133. _ Grammar, as a training in conception, 289, 290; uses of, 296. Habit, basis of, 192; examples of, 193; essen- tial characteristics of, 193; differs from instinct, 195; effects of on life, 195; bond- age of, 196; education and, 197; good habits not spontaneous, 198; Prof. James on, 198, 239, 240; summary of, 199; peda- gogical law of, 236; duty of teachers con- cerning, 236, 237, 239; mental habits to be cultivated, 238; maxims on, 240. Harmony, of tones, 63. Hearing, organ of, 58; sense of, 58 ff.; phys- ical process of, 61; ideas derived from, 63; how it serves the mind, 64. Heat spots, 47. Helplessness of infancy, 20. Herbart's classification of interests, 265. Heredity, 231. Hypothesis, how related to theory, 3. Ideas, derived from muscular sensations, 53; derived from touch, 54; of size, 72; of direction and distance, 72; of motion, 71; of solid form, 73; where when not in con- sciousness, 100. Idea before the term, 278. Illusions, false perceptions, 90. Images, differ how from percepts, 99; of things unseen, 116, 117; differ how from concepts, 131. Imagination, nature of, 116; definition of, 117; process of, 117; phases, or kinds, 118; uses of, 118 ff.; automatic, 118; cognitive, 119; inventive, or practical, 119; aesthetic, or artistic, 120; ethical, 121; emotion and imagination, 121; in children, 122; dan- gers of, 124; cultivation of, 125; exercise of, 126; materials of, 126; pedagogical val- ue of, 284 ff.; as instrument of acquisition, 286. Impression must issue in expression, 302. Impulsive action, 217. Impure imaginings, 125. Incentives to study, 243, 309. Individuality of pupils, 233. Inductive method, 179 ff.; place of, 186 ; ad- vantages of, 187; limitations of, 187. Inductive reasoning, 155, characteristics of, 156; early use of, 157; hasty induction, 157. Infancy, helplessness of, 20; period of, 255. Instinct, and habit, 195; nature of, 200; relates to action only, 200; illustrations of, 201; characteristics of, 201; Llovd Morgan on, 202; explanation of, 203; in man, 203; transitoriness of, 204; summary of, 204; Prof. .lames on, 204 Instinctive action, 202, 217. Instincts, when to be utilized, 262. Intellectual activity, the first, 22. Intellectual sentiment, the, 210. Intension, and extension, 134. Interest, nature of, 95; pedagogical law of, 264; the mother of attention, 266; rules for securing, 267. Interests, choice of, 97; immediate and re- mote, 96; classification of, 265; determine effort, 310. Interpretation of sensations, 88; of new in the light of the old, 271. Intuitions, 144. Intuitive judgments, 144. Inventive imagination, 119. Inversion of retinal images, 75. James, Prof., on habit, 198, 239, 240; on instinct, 204. Judgment, nature of, 141; relation of to other processes, 148; relation to conception, 149; summary of, 149. Judgments, essential parts of, 142; of iden- tity, 143; classification of, 143, 144; indis- tinct, causes of, 147; second-hand,_148. Keller, Helen, 84. Knowing, defined, 16; always connected with feeling and willing, 304. INDEX 329 Knowledge, how begins, 20; sources of, 22; relation of modes of reasoning to, 158; should be put to use, 276; and education, 311 ff.; the aliment of the mind, 314; uses of, modern conception of the, 312. Known, the, to the unknown, 257. Language, nature of, 161; division of, 161; of emotion, 161; of animals, 162; uses of, 165 ff.; as ? means of communication, 168; limitations of, 169 ff., 294; dangers of, 170, 297; important language habits, 171; sum- mary of, 173; pedagogical principle of, 294; Laurie on, 295; Holman on, 297. Lecture system, defect of, 300. Lesson plan, daily, need of, 317. Light and shade, 70; as sign of solidity, 74. Limitations, of the blind, 80; of the deaf, 81 ; of language, 169 ff. LocaUzation, of sensations, 55; a stage in per- ception, 87, 88. Local signs, 88. Logical division, 139. Major premise, 151; may not bo expressed, 154. Manner and method, 178. Mathematical reasoning, 153; why so certain in its results, 154. Matter, what it does, 16. Maturity, the age of, 257. Maxims, Prof. James's on habit, 240; use of the word, 254; important pedagogical, 257 ff. Mechanical memory. 111. Medulla oblongata, 26. Medullary sheath, 28. Memory, 99 ff.; phases of process, 100; kinds of, HI; mechanical, 111; rational, HI; disparagement of, 111; special memories, 112; tabular outline of, 115. Method, defined, 178; manner and. 178; spe- cial methods, 179; inductive, 179 ff.; ana- Ij'tic, 181; objective, 181; of discovery, 181; deductive, 182, 183; subjective, 183; synthetic, 183; complete, 183, 289; sum- mary of, 190. Methods, special, 179; of teaching reading, 184. Middle Ages, education in, 255. Middle term, 151, 152. Mind, the teacher's material, 12; nature of, 15; what it can do, 16; mind and body, 17, 225: development of, 241 ff. Misapplied energy, 320. Mnemonics, 114. Moral sentiment, the, 210. Morgan, Prof. Lloyd, on instinct, 202; on attention, 93; on description and explana- tion, 293. Motion, ideas of, 71. Motives, 212; to study, 243; teacher must supply, 243, 309. Muscles, of the eyeball, 70. Muscular sensations, 52; ideas derived from, 53; of the eye, 70. Myopia, 82. Nerve cells, 24, 36, 37. Nerve centers, 31, 32; discharge of, 33. Nerve circuit, 38. Nerve currents, 33. Nerve ends, 32; stimulation of, 32; function of, 32. Nerve fibers, 28. Nerve trunks, 28. Nerves, composition of, 27; sensory and motor, 31. Nervous arc, 38. Nervous mechanism, 25 ff.; elements of, 31. Nervous system, 25, 27. Neurones, structure of, 34. New-born babe, mental status of, 20. Night study, 230. Objective method, 181. Observation, cultivation of, 91. Organic sensations, 46. Organization of knowledge, 273, 275; in study, 323. Pain, 16, 209. Papillae, of taste,. 47. Partnership study, folly of, 249; causes of, 249. Pedagogy, sciences on which it rests, 13. Perception, 86; process of, 87, 88; illustrated, 87,88; false, illusions, 90; training in, 91; relation of judgment to, 148. Percepts, nature of, 89; differ how from images, 99. Physical defects, 226. Physics of sound, 62. Pitch, of tones, 62, 63. Plagiarism, unconscious, 110. Pleasure and pain, 16, 209; as mental stimu- lus, 269. Practical imagination, 119. Predicate, nature of, 142. Presentation, law of, 277. Principles, defined, 2; of teaching, 223 ff. Programs, daily, 229. Psychology, defined, 18. Pure sensations, 89. Rational memory. 111. Reasoning, 150; deductive, 151 ff.; inductive, 155 ff.; by analogy, 157; relation of modes of to progress of knowledge, 158; summary of, 159; tabular outline of, 100. Recency, a condition of reproduction, 103. Recitation, for benefit of pupil only, 251. Recognition, a factor in memory, 110. Recollection, 113. Reflex action, 38; in man, 39, 40; differs how from habit, 194. Remembrance, and recollection, 113. Repetition, a condition of retention, 102; as a pedagogical principle, 282. Representation, as a stage in perception, 87; in memory, 99. Reproduction, a phase in memory, 102; con- ditions of, 103. Resolve, 218, 221. 330 IKDEX Retention, basis of memory, 100; deBned, 101; conditions of, 102; a fixed quantity 113. Retina, the, 66, 67; stimulation of, 68. Retinal image, 68, 76; inversion of, 75. Reviews, character of, 282. School, objects of, 10. School conditions, 228; programs, 229; in- centives, 243. Self-activity, law of, 241; applications of law, 242, 245, 248. Self-consciousness, 23. Self-reliance, virtue of, 250. Semicircular canals, 58. Sensation, physical basis of, 25; starting point of consciousness, 25; nature of, 42. 86; conditions of, 42; threshold of, 43; quan- tity of, 42; quality of, 43; general and special, 44; classification of, 44; organic, 46; muscular, 52; of sight, 66 ff., 70; tabular outline 'of, 79; perception and, 86; as feeling, 206; freedom of, 277. Sense, the organic, 46; thermal, 47; of taste, 47; of smell, 48; muscular, 52; of hearing, 58 ff.; of sight, 66 ff. Sense defects, 79 ff., 226; of sight, 80, 82; of hearing, 81; partial, 81, 82. Senses, the, 44; body-serving, 46 ff.; knowl- edge-giving, 52 ff. Sensibility, see Feeling. Sentiments, the higher, 210. Sight, sense of, 66 ff.; organ of, 66; sensations of, 70; ideas derived from, 71. Similarity, law of, 105. Simple to complex, 259. Smell, sense of, 48, 49; confusion of taste with, 50; uses of, 50. Social feelings, 209. Solidity, visual signs of, 73, 74; ideas of, 73. Sound, physics of, 61. Specialization in studies, 247. Special memories, 112. Species, and genus, 133. Specific difference, 133. Spinal cord, 29. Stimulation of the retina, 68. Studies, variety needed, 247; specialization in, 247. Study, individual, 248; partnership in, 249; art of, 320 ff.; principles of, 321 ff.; con- ditions of success in, 323; common mistake in, 324. Subjective method, 183. Summum genus, 134, 135. Surprise, the principle of, 268. Suspensory ligament, 69. Syllogism, the, 150, 152, 153. Svmmetry, mental, and end in education, 10. Synthetic method, 183. Tactile sensations, 54; localization of, 55. Taste, sense of, 47; confusion of smell with, 50; uses of, 50. Teacher, the field of, 234; duty to know the mental status of pupils, 274 ff., 318; must supply motives, 243, 309. Teacher's material, mind, 12. Temporary indispositions, 228. Tennyson quoted, 23. Theory, meaning of term, 1; hypothesis and, 3; practice and, 3; scope of term, 4; of teaching, why study, 4. Thermal sense, 47. Thinking, 128, 163, 164; can animals think? 163; without words, 163; in words, 165; associational, 164; in study of lessons, 321. Thought powers, the, 128. Threshold of sensation, 43. Thring, quoted, 250, 276. Time, relation to sense of hearing, 64. Tone, nature and properties of, 62. Tone-deafness, 83. Touch, sensations of, 53, 54; intellectual service of, 54; corpuscles of, 53; active touch, 56, 74; muscular sensations and, 56. Traces, in brain, 101. Training, a factor in education, 7; in percep- tion, 91. Truths and facts, differ how? 2. Unqualified to qualified, 260. Uses of language, 165 ff. Variety of studies needed, 247. Vibrations, auditory, 62. Visual signs of distance, 72, 73. Volition, 218. Voluntary attention, 96, 97. Voluntary action, 218. Will, defined, 17, 216; relation to attention, 97; relation to physical movement, 219; control over ideas and feelings, 219; sum- mary of, 222. Words, relation to ideas, 141, 164; as sub- stitutes for ideas, 170. Wordsworth, on childish imagination, 123. Word analysis, value of, 296. Yellow spot, 67. 007 585 571