OLLEGE STUDY &. COLLEGE LIFE BERNARD C. EWER LIBRARY OF EDUCATIONAL MI Class _LBai:2.i Book 1^ CopightN"- — CDEXRIGHT DKPOSm COLLEGE STUDY & COLLEGE LIFE BY BERNARD C. IjWER PROFESSOR OF PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION POMONA COLLEGE BOSTON: RICHARD G. BADGER TORONTO: THE COPP CLARK CO., LIMITED COPTRIGHTED, 1917, BY RiCHARD G. BaDGER All Rights Reserved HQV -1 1317 Made in the United States of America The Gorham Press, Boston, U.S.A. ©Gl.A47e857 tij.XS^ PREFACE The following pages have been written for the purpose of helping students to take a thoughtful view of college practices and college problems. Their contents consists mainly of facts and discussions which I have been accus- tomed to present to freshmen with regard to the aims and methods of college study and the various features of college life. It is manifestly desirable that newcomers to the campus should gain an intelligent appreciation of their educational situation^ and if my experience is typical they are almost uniformly grateful for assistance in this respect. The well thumbed condition of those volumes in the college library which deal intimately with student interests testifies to the utility of such efforts, and con- stitutes encouragement to add another volume to those which appear to be so acceptable. In view of the fact that many colleges are making use of such literature in the first year work of their depart- ments of English, and even in special courses of instruc- tion for freshmen, I have endeavored to facilitate this practice by presenting subjects somewhat in textbook form. In dealing with controversial questions such as occasionally produce tension in the college atmosphere I have tried not only to register my own opinion, but to present both sides of the controversy fairly. The general aim of the college seems to me to be that of developing intellectual power, wise leadership, a habit of cooperation with associates and a spirit of friendliness toward all. I hope that these chapters may help in the realization of this aim. It is a pleasure to add that the preparation of them has been greatly facilitated by my wife's interest and assist- ance. Bernard C. Ewer. Claremont, California, September 1, 1917. CONTENTS PAGE Preface 3 CHAPTER I. The College Problem 9 Is College Education Profitable, 9 — Certain Defects in Student Life, 11— The Study of the College Situation, 13. II. The Early American College ...... 17 Colonial College Foundations, 17 — Social Conditions, 20 — The Curriculum, 23. III. The Development of Higher Education . . .29 Expansion, 29 — The Development of the Curriculum, 32 — Social Development, 35. IV. Special Developments 40 The Small College, W—The State University, 42 — Higher Education for Women, 46. V. The Purpose of the College ...... 49 The Meaning of Education, 49 — College Education, 51 — Cultural and Practical Education, 53. VI. The College Curriculum 58 Fields of Study, 58 — Science and Appreciation, 60 — Science in the Curriculum, 62 — Appreciative Studies in the Curriculum, 65. VII. The Individual Plan of Study 70 Required Studies, 70 — The Elective System, 72 — Breadth and Specialization, 76. VIII. General Conditions of Study 80 Amount, 80 — Regularity, 84 — Freedom, 87. 5 6 CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE IX. Elementary Factors of Study 91 Interest, 91 — Attention, 93 — Memory, 96. X. Thought Factors of Study ...... 99 Advanced Study Involves Thinking, 99 — Purposiveness, 101 — Analysis and Note Taking, 103 — Supplementary Thinking, 107. XI. Scholarship 110 Are College Students Unscholarly? 110 — The Motives of Scholarship, 112 — Grades, 115. XII. Student Honesty 121 Prevalent Conditions, 121 — The Honor System, 123— Practical Considerations, 127. XIII. Health 131 Fundamental Importance of Health, the Health Prob- lem, 131 — Practical Principles, 134 — Special Needs in Student Life, 136. XIV. College Life 141 Development, 141 — Educational Value, 142 — Excess, The Problem of Regulation, 146. XV. College Spirit 149 What Is ''College Spirit"? 14>9— Needed Forms of College Spirit, 151 — Custom and Conformity, 154 — Hazing, Class Antagonisms, 156. XVI. Student Government 161 The Development of the Problem, 161 — Training for Democracy, 163 — Principles of Student Governmient, 165 — Self -Government and Freedom, 169. XVII. Intercollegiate Athletics 170 Origin and Development, The Problem, 170 — The Value of intercollegiate Athletics, Benefits and Evils, 172 — Regulation, 179 — Professionalism, 183. XVIII. Fraternities and Sororities 187 Origin and Development, 187 — The Value of the Fra- ternity, 190 — Fraternity Evils, 192 — Regulation, 195. CONTENTS 7 CHAPTER PAGE XIX. College Religion 199 The Religious Characters of the College, 199 — College Chapel, 901— The True Faith, 204. Appendix A. The Offer of the College, Hyde, The Col- lege Man and the College Woman 209 Appendix B. Choosing a Vocation 210 Appendix C. Two Vocational Aims for College Students 212 Appendix D. General Reading 215 Appendix E. From a Card of Advice to Students in the Library of Brown University 221 Appendix F. Constitution of the Student Council of X College 223 Appendix G. The Creed of a College Class, Hyde, The College Man and the College Woman .... 226 / COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE CHAPTER I THE COLLEGE PROBLEM Is College Education Profitable? In the autumn of every year an enthusiastic army of young men and young women enter American colleges. Averaging nineteen years of age, graduates of public high schools and private academies, they are physically and mentally on the threshold of manhood and womanhood. With respect to intelligence, capability and promise of success they are among the best youth of the country — select candidates for "higher education." They enter an institution of dignified lineage and lengthy history, an organization of great and growing complexity, a place of much learning, diversified study, and highly specialized social arrangements. Breathing its peculiar in- tellectual and social atmosphere they pass through the freshman year, becoming sophomores, juniors, seniors, and at last graduates, proud of their Alma Mater. Eventually they go forth into society with the stamp of the college upon them; to a greater or less extent they are personifi- cations of its character. In some measure their success or failure is determined by their college course. From the happenings, the tasks, the things done or not done during these four years results their worthfulness or worthlessness in society. Next to the home the school — and this means for the young people whom we are consicj- 9 10 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE ing the college — is the most important formative institu- tion in their lives. Is its influence upon them good or bad? On the one hand we note the enthusiasm of the students themselves, the tremendous increase of attendance, and the sacrifice which thousands of parents are making for their children. All this is the expression of faith that collegiate education is worth while. We note also the assurance of college authorities, presidents, deans and professors, that the college years are advantageous in the highest degree. We learn that the college-educated two or three per cent of the population hold nearly half of the most important positions of trust. And finally we hear the testimony of men, some or them men of distinction, who have been com- pelled to educate themselves without college experience, that they have felt the lack of this constantly throughout their lives. ^ On the other hand we see considerable foolishness^ snobbery, and general futility of behavior among college students. We find them dallying with subjects of study which have little direct relation to life, and dallying hardly less with subjects which have much. We hear an ever increasing volume of criticism, both from within and from without the college walls. It is said that a college course fails to develop good mental and moral habits, while it engenders many bad ones; that it consists of four years of sloth and dissipation, cheerfully masked by genial com- radeship and good manners; that it sends out its youth into a work-a-day world untrained for any serious occupa- tion. More pointedly we are told that college graduates cannot spell, cannot keep appointments, cannot sacrifice the pleasure of attending a football game for the duty of attending to business, and so on. When we point to the preeminence of college men in important positions, the reply is that the natural ability of these few would have placed them there in any case; and this assertion is ^ One of the most influential leaders of the educational and religious life of the nation says that he has never been able to overcome a feeling of embarrassment in not having had a college education. THE COLLEGE PROBLEM 11 supported by the long list of names of great men, from Columbus and Michelangelo to Herbert Spencer and Abra- ham Lincoln, who have illuminated history without having attended a university. Our higher educational institutions, it is said, suppress the individuality of the student; they "iron out" his promising excrescences of ability, and make him conform monotonously to traditional thought and es- tablished social types. Such accusations are no doubt overdrawn. The good and the bad in human institutions are so mixed that it is easy to exaggerate the bad until it seems to cast a shadow over the whole. The effect of college training is mostly good; the defects are as a rule not profound, cer- tainly not fatal. A large majority of college graduates go through life better in health, morals, citizenship, and efficiency than they would have done without those four years of higher education. Nevertheless those who continue to hold this faith that a college education is well worth while must acknowledge that the criticism, however exaggerated, is not wholly un- true. Only a blind loyalty can ignore the fact that many students show no serious purpose, that some form bad habits, and that there are college graduates who are pitiable failures in life. Others are saved from failure only by inherited wealth, friendly sinecures, and disguised charity of various forms. Testimony is abundant that the process of adjustment to life after leaving college is difficult, often painful. Why is this so.^* Certain Defects in Student Life The first to be mentioned, possibly the fundamental one, is the lack of a serious, self-educative purpose. Too often the student has no clear conception of why he is spend- ing four years of his most valuable youth in college. Such a purpose is not to be understood as a mere expectation of becoming a lawyer or merchant after graduation; this vague idea may amount to nothing whatever. It means a deliberate desire to do something useful among one's fel- low men, and to prepare for it studiously, so that the col- lege course is energized by this larger interest of life. n COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE From the outset the student should face this problem. Though it is not desirable that every incoming freshman should have decided upon his life work, it is well that he should be thinking about the matter. Generally speaking, he should decide by the time he reaches junior standing what bent he will follow, and should regard his later college years as a broad educational preparation for this. When, as recently happened, in a prominent college, half the graduating class, men from twenty-one to twenty-five years of age, do not know what their vocations are to be, critics are justified in saying that the college does not square with life, and that its education is a waste of time.^ The second defect is the lack of skillful study method, the lack of efficiency in the learning process. We hear much about the small amount of study in college, but the real defect is one of quality rather than quantity. What is needed is not additional hours of "grinding," so much as an intelligent method of attacking and analyzing a study problem, of obtaining and weighing evidence, of comparing opinions and reaching a conclusion. The col- lege student ordinarily needs to train himself in attention, in remembering and forgetting, in thinking and reasoning. This training implies less day dreaming in class and out, less wasting of time with a book when the mind is pre- occupied with a football or a girl, less accumulation of scrappy, unread notes, more regular hours, a more punc- tilious accuracy of speech. A contemporary critic of college affairs emphasizes the need in American life of "problem- solvers," i.e., of me;i who can deal skilfully with our varied economic, political, and moral problems, men who can in- vestigate the perplexities of banking, railroad manage- ment, constitutional law, journalism, church efficiency, and 2 "The fundamental fault of our whole educational system is that we try to train to superficial scholarship and conventional culture those who should be learning to do their share of the world's work." J. McKeen Cattell. "To take a young man aM^ay from work, say at eighteen years of age, and keep him from useful labor, in the name of educa- tion, for four years, will some day be regarded as a most absurd proposition. Isolation from the world in order to prepare for the world's work is folly." Elbert Hubbard. THE COLLEGE PROBLEM 13 the like. For such problem-solving a correct method of study is absolutely requisite.^ In the third 23lace the student gives too much time and attention to the distracting interests of college life, and more especially to its play. No doubt play is as vital an interest as is work, but a state of affairs has come to pass such that college play not only interferes with college work, but is taken so seriously that the proper spirit of play is lost, and it tends to become vicious. There is in student life an extensive and chaotic confusion of athletic and social performances which infringes from all sides uj5on the time, and still more upon the attention and interest of the student body.* Many a college has scores of groups of one sort or another, some for intellec- tual or artistic purposes, others purely social and recrea- tional. A single student may be a member of a dozen or more. The result of this excessive organization is a nervous, superficial, and often frivolous habit of life that produces little real happiness and no real power. Many persons regard the rational control of "college life" as the great central problem of college reform. The Study of the College Situation Most freshmen are but vaguely informed about the aims and ideals of the college. Its life is so different from previous school life, even from the boarding school life which mimics it, that many do not understand the institution or their own relation to it. Sent hither by parents, attracted by spectacular athletics, or carried in by the sheer momentum of our educational system, they rarely face the new conditions and opportunities with ma- ture intelligence. During the opening weeks of the year the attitude of the newcomer is a kind of confused docility, which gradu- ^ Bird's-eye, Individual Training in Our College, Chap. XXXIV. * "The side-shows are so numerous, so diverting — so important, if you will — that they have swallowed up the circus, and those who perform in the main tent must often whistle for their audi- ences, discouraged and humiliated." Woodrow Wilson, What Is a College For? Scrihner's Magazine, Nov., 1909. 14 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE ally gives way to self assurance and perhaps bumptious- ness. He gains the feeling of being at home in college, and this is among the most important acquisitions of the year. As time passes, his center of gravity may prove to be intellectual, so that college means to him primarily his desk and his books, the library, the class room and the laboratory; or it may be found in his social self, as he inhabits the fraternity house and athletic field, and be- comes known for physical prowess and good fellowship. But in any case he quickly becomes acquainted with col- lege life. This acquaintance, however, is not so much an intelligent comprehension, as it is a complex practical attitude toward his environment — a general manner of be- havior. He picks it up by imitation of older students, gathers it in conversation with his friends, collects a few details from a talk by the president or dean, and gleans a good deal from the college newspaper. College customs seem to "soak in" rather than to impress themselves upon the intelligence. Loyalty, enthusiasm, "swagger," this burst of approval and that jab of criticism, are imitative and infectious. Often he does things not because he knows them to be best — he may even know that they are not best — but because he feels the force of custom around him. If a particular course of study has the reputation of being easy he proceeds to take it easily, without pausing to consider its possible advantages. If the college is tra- ditionally given to foolish pranks he lends his energy to these. On the other hand he develops the soundest quali- ties of human character, courage, helpfulness, ability for organization, under the same social stimulus. So in the course of the year he possesses himself of a mixture of truth and error about his college and his membership in it. Practically he becomes wise in such matters of college interest as sports and social relationships, but as a rule he remains ignorant of what it is all for. He does not understand the function of the college, and his own re- flective ideals develop slowly. When one asks him about the significance of the college for American life, or its relation to the surrounding community, or its preparation for citizenship, one too frequently finds that he has not THE COLLEGE PROBLEM 15 thought much on these subjects. Yet it is profoundly true that every college student is part of a great historical movement. When he enters col- lege he necessarily launches into a vast current of human thought and feeling and effort which bears him along, but to which he also contributes the force of his own personality. His studies, his recreations, in fact all the intellectual and social features of college life come to him from the past; and the future direction of the current depends in some slight degree upon his reaction to these conditions. He is a real factor in the developing educa- tional system of the country, and in consequence a factor in the development of our national life. Is it not desirable, therefore, that college men and women should make a serious study of the history, methods and practices, the purposes and ideals of higher education.? Ought they not to acquire, at the beginning of the college course, an intelligent view of the institution to which they belong.'' This may be done in various ways: by special instruction, by general reading, by including appropriate material in regular courses, especially the first year Eng- lish. But in one way or another it would seem that stu- dents might make with much profit to themselves, a schol- arly acquaintance with the college. They are approaching manhood and womanhood in years and mental power; correspondingly it appears fitting that they should gain a mature appreciation of their educational environment. The result would surely be less floundering and waste of time, less folly and futility, a more determined purpose in col- lege and in subsequent life. It is not to be expected, of course, that the defects of contemporary college life can be wholly eradicated by the simple device of instruction. Wise counsel often slides off the mind without leaving any impression, and here as elsewhere study discipline may be evaded. Presumably intelligent students exhibit deafness to advice and warn- ing, and blindness to the consequences of shirking — ap- parently anxious only to get along with a minimum of work and to have a good time. The wayward will is sometimes guided only by hard experience, and not always 16 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE by that. But most students, I think, desire to do the right thing if it is made clear. Accordingly it is reason- able to expect that the general effect of acquiring clear ideas about college life will be more earnestness, less childishness, a better study plan and method, and a greater willingness to cooperate in realizing the ideal of the college as a higher educational institution. CHAPTER II THE EARLY AMERICAN COLLEGE Colonial College Foundations In 1636^ only a few years after the settlement of Bos- ton^ the General Court or legislature of the "Bay Colony" of Massachusetts appropriated four hundred pounds for the establishment of a "Schoole or Colledge."^ The site chosen was at Newtowne, subsequently called Cambridge after the English seat of learning. Two years later John Harvard^ a local clergyman^ bequeathed his library and several hundred pounds in mone}^ to the infant institution, and in recognition of his generosity the college took his name. For over half a century Harvard College remained the only institution of the kind in the country. In 1693 the College of William and Mary w^as established at Williams- burg, Virginia; and in 1701 in the colony of Connecticut a "Collegiate School," which after several years of troubled migration from one town to another was located at New Haven, and was named after one of its benefactors, Eli Yale. In many respects Yale was an offshoot of Harvard, founded and conducted largely by Harvard graduates, and administered in much the same way as the parent college. Similarly Princeton, founded in 1746 as the College of New Jersey, was patterned after Yale. Several other col- ^ The term "college" came originally from Roman law, in which it signified a group of individuals having a common purpose and some kind of corporate standing. Such collegia were especially of religious, political and industrial character. This generic meaning of the term is found in the "College of Cardinals" and "Electoral College" of to-day. In the middle ages the name was applied to church schools, and thus its usage became primarily educational. For a detailed history of the term see the Cyclo- pedia of Education, art. "College." 17 18 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE leges were born before the Revolutionary War — King's College (now Columbia), the College of Pennsylvania, Rhode Island College (Brown), the College of New Hamp- shire (Dartmouth), and Queen's College (Rutgers). Thus there were in all nine pre-revolutionary colleges. The colonies, we should bear in mind, were for a long time hardly more than spots of cultivation in a wilderness which was held by Indians. The population was small, travel was exceedingly difficult, industries were undevel- oped, poverty was often harsh, and there were scarcely any common schools. Life was dominated by religious zeal and characterized by moral severity, conditions which of course reflected themselves in the colleges. The original purpose of the college foundations was first and foremost the training of ministers. Many of the early colonists were educated men, graduates of Oxford and Cambridge, men full of idealism for their home in the new world and inclined to set supreme value upon a properly educated ministry. For a century or more an astonishly large percentage of college graduates — running in some periods as high as seventy or eighty — became clergymen and missionaries. More broadly, the purpose of the early college was the education of a moral and re- ligious citizenship. "Let every student," so runs one of the first Rules and Precepts of Harvard, "be plainly in- structed, and earnestly pressed to consider well, the maine end of his life and studies is, TO KNOW GOD AND JESUS CHRIST WHICH IS ETERNAL LIFE, Joh. xvii. 3, and therefore to lay Christ in the bottome, as the only foundation of all sound knowledge and learning."^ Similarly the first advertisement of King's College says that "The chief Thing that is aimed at in this College is, to teach and engage the Children to know God in Jesus Christ, and to love and serve him, in all Sobriety, Godliness, and Righteousness of Life, with a perfect Heart, and a rvilling Mind; and to train them up in all virtuous Habits, and all such useful Knowledge as may render them credi- table to their Families and Friends, Ornaments to their =*For a complete statement of these Rules and Precepts see Birdseye, Individual Training in our Colleges, pp. 19, 20. THE EARLY AMERICAN COLLEGE 19 Country and useful to the public Weal in their Genera- tions."^ In fulfilment of this purpose the colleges were conducted as "theological boarding schools." Their presidents and many of their teachers were clergymen, their curriculum was saturated with theological ideas and theological argu- ment^ their daily life was punctuated with religious exer- cises. The later foundations, particularly the College of Pennsylvania, laid more emphasis upon scientific, political and industrial study. In other words the purpose of the college broadened as the life of the colonies became more complex, and educational needs other than those of religion came more clearly into the foreground. In a general way, however, the religious purpose of higher education re- mained in force. The little seats of learning labored in serious poverty. Their income was pitifully meager and uncertain, books were scarce, and equipment scanty. There were no labora- tories. The "valuable philosophical apparatus" of Yale, consisted of surveying instruments, a telescope, a micro- scope, and a barometer; these constituted its original facilities for the pursuit of natural science.^ Money was collected from faithful friends in this country and in Eng- land for the advancement of religious education in the new world; and lotteries, authorised by the colonial govern- ments, were an occasional source of revenue until moral sentiment put an end to the practice. Tuition fees were of course small; indeed the entire expense of a college education was less than that of a single year in the college of to-day. Money was so scarce that gifts and fees came in the form of silverware and country produce. Every fact of the financial history of the early colleges spells sacrifice.^ ^ Thwing, History of Higher Education in America, p. 116. * Thwing, op. cit., p. 77. ^ "Even the presidents had to take 'country pay.' Parents set- tled for tuition in produce and cattle, such as 'a barrel of pork,' 'a old cow,' 'turkey henes,' 'two wether goatts,' 'a bush, of par- snapes,' 'a ferkinge of butter,' 'a red ox,' 'appelles,' 'a ferkinge of soap,' 'rose watter,' 'three pecks of peasse,' 'beaffe,' 'fouer shotes from the farm,' 'tobacko,' etc. Such gifts made in country 20 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE Social Conditions The social arrangements of these colleges were distinctly of the boarding school type. The faculty and students — forty or fifty boys and a few teachers living constantly in close association — might almost be regarded as a large family. The youngsters, entering commonly between the ages of twelve and fifteen, needed a parental supervision from their elders, and certainly obtained it. Discipline was of the strictest sort. Each class was under the author- ity of a particular tutor who not only taught the boys whatever they studied, but resided in the dormitory with them and ate at the same table. Clothing, spending money, hours of study and play, all were subjects of minute regulation, with corresponding penalties for breaking rules. An elaborate system of freshman service imposed obliga- tion to run errands and do other small offices for members of upper classes as well as for the faculty. Of course this practice lent itself to petty tyranny and persecution, of which "hazing" is a direct descendant. Altogether the lot of the freshman must have been less happy than it is to-day. Upperclassmen were also under strict regulation with regard to conduct, though of course less so than freshmen. It hardly need be added, however, that the strictness of the regime did not prevent disorder. Board- ing school rules have always been regarded as existing partly in order to be broken, and frontier manners are boisterous. Some of the outbreaks, as that of 1807 at Harvard and the "Bread and Butter Rebellion" of 1828 at Yale, are historic.^ Among the "Ancient Customs of Harvard College" were the following: "No Freshman shall wear his hat in the College yard, unless it rains, hails or snows, provided he be on foot, and have not both hands full. produce or in animals were available at the commons, or were turned over to the members of the faculty as part pay. This was to be expected when barter was the usual form of exchange. Sometimes, however, there were complaints that a little more cash and a httle less of produce would be acceptable." Birdseye, Individual Training in Onr Colleges, p. 52. ' Sheldon, Student Life and Customs, pp. 106 ff. THE EARLY AMERICAN COLLEGE 21 "No Undergraduate shall wear his hat in the College yard when any of the Governors of the College are there; and no Bachelor shall wear his hat when the President is there. "All the Undergraduates shall treat those in the Govern- ment of the College with respect and deference; particu- larly they shall not be seated without leave in their pres- ence; they shall be uncovered when they speak to them or are spoken to by them. "All Freshmen (except those employed by the Immediate Government of the College) shall be obliged to go on any errand (except such as shall be judged improper by some one in the Government of the College) for any of his Seniors^ Graduates or Undergraduates, at any time, except in studying hours, or after nine o'clock in the evening. "When any person knocks at a Freshman's door, except in studying time, he shall immediately open the door with- out inquiring who is there. "No scholar shall call up or down, to or from, any chamber in the College. "No scholar shall play football or any other game in the College yard, or throw anything across the yard. "The Freshmen shall furnish the batts, balls and foot- balls for the use of the students, to be kept at the But- tery." The statement concludes with a provision that "The Sophomores shall publish these Customs to the Freshmen in the Chapel, whenever ordered by any in the Government of the College; at which time the Freshmen are enjoined to keep their places in their seats, and attend with decency to the reading." '^ An especially interesting chapter might be written con- cerning the commons^ with its minute rules of conduct, vicissitudes of fare, its "dinner messes" and "supper messes," its "sizings of bread," "pyes," "cues of beer," and the tendency of youth at meals to introduce gleeful irregularities of behavior. How healthy appetites must have rebelled at the rule prohibiting extra food and drink because "young scholars, to the dishonor of God, hindrance ' Thwing, op. cit., pp. 42, 43. 22 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE of their studies and damage of their friends' estate, incon- siderately and intemperately are ready to abuse their lib- erty of sizing besides their commons" ! College boarding halls have frequently been the scene of disturbances verg- ing on riot and revolution, and the record is occasionally tinged with the humor of such performances. No feature of college life, however, has been more significant than the common meal; its unifying power is almost sacramental. Play was not a prominent feature of college life. "Ath- letics" in the modern meaning of the term did not exist, and physical sports were more or less irregular and un- systematic. Indeed the time for such diversion was brief, since study hours were rigidly fixed and the youngsters had liberty only after meals. Many innocent games were strictly forbidden on account of their evil associations. Backgammon and tenpins, as well as cards and dice, were long under the ban. The physical condition of students sometimes suffered from excessive study and insufficient exercise, while now and then poor food contributed to the undermining of health. Vacations had not reached their present well defined status. They were at first allowances of time to go home for clothing. Later there were periods of a few weeks in summer, winter and spring. A winter vacation for the purpose of allowing students to earn money by teaching in rural schools was a fixed feature of the college year for more than half the last century. In general the importance of play and recreation failed to receive due recognition, though the play instincts of youth naturally demanded expression, and there is abun- dant evidence that fun-loving human nature found outlets for its energy. Strict disciplinary ideas prevailed. The punishable offences were a strange combination of religious impiety, moral wrong doing, and mere infraction of social custom. Profanity, lying, and carrying a cane into chapel were all regarded as more or less sinful. Punishment took the form of flogging, fines, and extra lessons. The president and fellows of Harvard were authorized by the General Court in 1656 "to punish all misdemeanors of the youth in their society, either by fine or whipping in the Hall openly. THE EARLY AMERICAN COLLEGE 23 as the nature of the offense shall require, not exceeding ten shillings or ten stripes for one offense."^ An interest- ing bit of history which has descended to us is the account of the whipping of a boy for profanity. It took place in the library under the supervision of the president, and was preceded and followed by prayer. At Columbia it was ordained that those who absented themselves from religious worship be fined two pence for every offence, and one penny for tardiness. Further, "None of the Pupils shall fight Cocks, play at Cards, Dice or any unlawful game under penalty of being fined not exceeding Five shillings for the first offence, and being openly admon- ished and confessing their fault for the second, and ex- pulsion if contumacious."^ Punishment also took the form of lowering the social rank of the offender in the posted list of scholars, for differences of birth and parentage gave rise to aristocratic precedence in the college. The spirit of democratic equality at length put an end to this practice. Many features of the social order remained until comparatively recent times, but gradually the increas- ing age of students and the development of a more liberal educational policy lessened the disciplinary stringency. The simplicity and rigor of this half academic, half domestic life stand in sharp contrast to the complexity and comfort of the modern college. It is amusing to think of the state of mind of a luxury-loving college undergrad- uate of to-day if he were obliged to pass a harsh New England winter in the cheerless accommodations of the Harvard or Yale or Dartmouth of two centuries ago. Prob- ably the experience would be good for him. The Curriculum "When any schollar is able to read Tully, or such like classical Latin author ex tempore, and make and speake true Latin in verse and prose, suo (ut aiu7it) Marte, and decline perfectly the paradigms of nounes and verbes in ye Greek tongue, then may hee bee admitted into ye col- ^ Birdseye, op. cit,, pp. 7, 8. '" ^''•«-~-— v ^The American College, March, 1910, p. 511. 24 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE ledge^ nor shall any claim admission before such qualifica- tion." So runs the first of Harvard's original Rules and Precepts. For a long time^ indeed, the entrance require- ments were very simple — Latin, the rudiments of Greek, and arithmetic. Elementary education was undeveloped and the lack of preparatory schools threw most of the burden of fitting boys for college upon private tuition, frequently that of the local clergyman. As the public school system grew, more extensive and thorough prepara- tion became possible. In general this preliminary study was patterned after the college curriculum, particularly its classical features. Latin, though perhaps not the ability to "make and speake it" with purity of diction, remained a sine qua non for admission until recent times. Turning to the course of study as it existed two cen- turies ago, we find it narrow in comparison with that of the modern college. The first college curriculum in America, that established at Harvard by President Dunster, reads as follows: (1) Mondays and Tuesdays: Philosophy, comprising logic and physics for the first year, ethics and politics for the second year, arithmetic, geometry and astronomy for the third year. For each morning, theory; for each after- noon, practice in philosophical disputations. (2) Wednesdays: Greek for all classes. For the first year, etymology and syntax_, with afternoon practice in the rules of grammar; for the second year, prosody and dialec- tics, with practice in poesy after dinner; for the third year, more Greek in theory and practice. (3) Thursdays: Theory of Hebrew, Chaldee, and Syriac grammar with practice in corresponding Biblical texts. (4) Fridays: Rhetoric, with English composition and declamation. (5) Saturdays: Mornings, "Divinity Catecheticall" and "Common Places," i.e., scholastic disputations; afternoons, history in the winter, nature of plants in the summer.^^ This curriculum, it will be noted, covered only three years. It was subsequently expanded to four, the succes- "* Foster, Administration of the College Curriculum, pp. 12, 13. THE EARLY AMERICAN COLLEGE 25 sive classes being designated as freshmen, sophomores, junior and senior sophisters. Other colleges as they arose offered much the same studies. More than a century after the founding of Har- vard v/e find King's College prescribing the classics, mathe- matics and philosophy, together with geography, physics, agriculture and merchandise, history, and principles of law and government. Rhetoric and practice in declamation and debate play a considerable part. Hebrew is studied by those who intend to become ministers. This curriculum was somewhat narrower than it seems, for the history and science of the day were meager in the extreme, and the philosophy was devoted to theological interests. In breadth of information the course was defi- cient ; but in point of disciplinary training the value of the subjects and method was large. The classical studies served to develop literary power, and the emphasis upon "disputations" could hardly fail to cultivate argumentative skill. This critical and intensive character helped to pro- duce many distinguished thinkers and leaders in American affairs. It remained substantially unchanged for nearly two centuries. Examinations were oral, and visitors might participate in conducting the ordeal. Graduation exercises consisted of dissertations and arguments, mostly upon ethical and tlieological subjects, and often couched in Latin. In fact Latin was the language of scholarship, of textbooks, of class exercises, and of declamation and debate — a fact which explains its central importance as an entrance re- quirement. A report of the first Commencement of Rhode Island College tells us that seven "young Gentlemen com- menced Bachelors in the Arts" with a salutary oration in Latin, "pronounced with much Spirit." Following this came a dispute in English on the subject. "The Amer- icans, in their present Circumstances, cannot, consistent with good policy, affect to become an independent State." There was also an oration on Benevolence, in which the speaker shrewdly emphasized the fact that his "infant Seminary stands in Need of the salutary Effects of that truly Christian Virtue." After a syllogistic dispute on the 26 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE thesis "Materia cogitare non potest" — the reporter cau- tiously remarks that "the principal Arguments on both Sides were produced^ toward settling that important Point — degrees were conferred, and the Valedictorian "took a most affectionate Leave of his Classmates. — The Scene was tender — the Subject felt — and the Audience affected." Music was interspersed betv/een the disputes and orations, and the whole performance occupied an entire day/^ In no respect was the character of the early college more marked than that of religion. The primary purpose, as we have seen, was profoundly religious. College officers, trustees, president and faculty, were usually clergymen, sometimes of professional distinction, as Increase Mather at Harvard and Jonathan Edwards at Yale. Strict re- ligious conformity was necessary. President Dunster of Harvard, for openly opposing infant baptism, was indicted, tried, convicted, and sentenced to a public admonition and to give bonds for good behavior.^^ In 1722 President Cutler and a tutor were dismissed from Yale because they had become Episcopalians.^^ The curriculum was heavily charged with theology. In the early days of Harvard students met frequently in their tutors' rooms for Bible reading, catechetical examination, and prayer. On Sun- days there were lengthy sermons, the repetition of which constituted a student exercise. A large number of grad- uates, youths not yet out of their teens, entered the minis- try, and in many cases became famous as the spiritual leaders of colonial progress. An interesting picture of the life of a college student in colonial times is found in the diary of a junior at Yale in 1762. Some of its entries are the following: "26th. Studied my recitation in Tully de Oratore. "27th. Saturday. Attended Coll. Exs. Heard Mr. Daggett preach two sermons on the trinity of ye Godhead, I John, V, 8. Read some in Milton's Samp. Agon. "29- Attended Coll. Exs. Studied Homer almost ye whole day. Read a few pages in Tuscul. Disput. Had ^ Brown Alumni Monthly. " Birdseye, op. cit., p. 41. »*Pirdseye, op. cit., p. 35, THE EARLY AMERICAN COLLEGE 27 no recns to-day^ our Tutor being out of town. "30. Attended prayers. Studied Homer in forenoon. Writ argument on our forensick question, wh. was WHETHER ADAM KNEW YT ETERNAL DAMNA- TION WOULD BE HIS DOOM IF HE EAT THE FORBIDDEN FRUIT. > Had no recitation. Afternoon worked out a question in Algebra and studied some in Septuagint. "Friday, 9. Attended Coll. Exs. Studied Homer in fore- noon. In the afternoon read in Martin's Philosophy and in Wliiston's Ast (Astronomical) Principles of Religion. At night Nichols, Hallock, and Brewster were publickly ad- monished for having a Dance at Milford, and for their general conduct. Bull, for going to Milford without lib- erty and for his general conduct, was ordered to depart from College and to live under the care of some minister at a distance till he should show signs of reformation. Hinman, Kellogg, Kingsbury, and Botsford were fined 2s. 6d. for being at the dance at Milford. "21. N.B. — Got through l6th Book of Homer, where I shall stop for ye present. Afternoon. In Pope's Homer. Spent remainder of ye afternoon in drinking tea and con- versation. "Evening felt melancholy and dejected on thinking of ye difficulties my DADDE must undergo to provide for me here at college."^* The early American college must not be regarded merely as a historical curiosity. It deserves our profound respect. In spite of its poverty, its scanty equipment, its religious bigotry and the narrowness of its curriculum, it did an important educational work, and it sent out graduates who took a prominent part in spiritual and secular affairs. Not only clergymen, but lawyers, judges, governors, legis- lators and presidents, in fact the leaders of political and professional life, received their education in these humble institutions. The college possessed moral ideals and gave moral training. jThough essentially related to to the pe- culiar civilizationV^that surrounded it, and not suitable to the broader culture of to-day, it nevertheless exhibited "Thwing, op. cit., pp. 101, 102. 28 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE superior efficiency and value. In education the personal contact of teacher and pupil is of the first importance. This condition was characteristic of the early college. In the development of higher education it has been largely lost or overlaid by other interests. Hov7 to restore it is a profound problem. CHAPTER III THE DEVELOPMENT OF HIGHER EDUCATION Ej:pa7isio7i The wonderful development of higher education in our national life is so vast a subject that we can only note a few of its most important features. First, in point of numerical expansion the college kept pace with the rapid growth of the nation. While the older colleges increased in size and in wealth many new ones appeared both in the more populous east and in the sparsely settled west. ^Yherever civilization extended its frontier there arose sooner or later among the settlers a demand for intellectual culture, and in response came numerous college and uni- versity foundations. To mention only a few of these mile- stones of educational progress/ Bowdoin was founded in Maine in 1794^ Union in New York in 1795, Alleghany in Pennsylvania in 1815, Oberlin in Ohio in 1833, Knox in Illinois in 1837, Grinnell in Iowa in 1847, Colorado College in 1874, Whitman in Washington in 1883, Pomona in Cali- fornia in 1887. In the south likewise, from Maryland to Texas, the educational idealism of the people expressed itself in college foundations. Most of the new institutions were sectarian — illustrations of the historic bond between religion and education. A few, like Williams, were unde- nominational. In addition came the establishment and re- markable development of state universities; every common- wealth with the exception of a few in the east instituted its own higher education. The middle period of the nine- teenth century was especially prolific; the country was overspread with hundreds of schools of advanced learning, each one an embodiment of rising civilization. Not only did the older type of college thus multiply its 29 30 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE numbers, but special schools were established for the study of law, medicine, theology, engineering, and various other professional and technological subjects.^ Some of these schools were independent; others were conjoined with col- leges of the earlier kind. Thus we observe the develop- ment of three types of higher educational institution: the college of liberal arts, having a varied curriculum com- posed mostly of cultural studies; the professional or tech- nological school (or college), offering a definitely vocational course of instruction ; and the university, comprising several such schools and a college of the first sort.^ ^ This development began before the opening of the nineteenth century. The Medical College of Philadelphia was founded in 1765, the first law school appeared in Connecticut in 1T84-, Renn- selaer Polytechnic Institute began its work in 1835. See Dexter, History of Education in the United States, Chs. XVI, XVII. More recent are the schools of education, journalism, commerce, forestry, which have elevated training for these occupations to the level of higher education. ^ For the history of the term "college" see Ch. II, Note, p. 11. The name is now properly applied to several kinds of aclvanced school, e.g.. College of Physicians and Surgeons, College of En- gineering, Agricultural College, etc. The College of "liberal Arts" — the historic name for philosophy, science, language and literature — is in some cases designated as College of Arts and Sciences, or College of Literature and Science. Historically the European "university" comprised four "fac- ulties," namely those of liberal arts, law, medicine and theology. The universities of Oxford and Cambridge have had a distinctive character as groups of residential colleges. The American uni- versity has derived its form from both sources. The titles of college and university are much abused, however. Many institutions which are little more than ill equipped sec- ondary schools have assumed them with no more justification than the hopes of founders and the complacency of a legislature. A definition adopted by the Carnegie Foundation for the Ad- vancement of Teaching for its own purposes of standardization is as follows: "An institution to be ranked as a college must have at least six professors giving their entire time to college and university work, a course of four full years in liberal arts and sciences, and shall require for admission not less than the usual four years of academic or high school preparation, in addi- tion to the pre-academic or grammar school studies." The Na- tional Association of State Universities specifies for membership: that the college of arts and sciences shall require for entrance a high school course of four years or its equivalent, and shall give two years of general or liberal study, followed by two years of DEVELOPMENT OF HIGHER EDUCATION 31 Statistical facts in the field of higher education vary from year to year^ increasing for the most part with such rapidity that any set of figures soon becomes out of date. Perhaps it is worth our while^ however, to note that in 1916, according to the report of the United States Com- missioner of Education, there were 563 institutions of higher education — universities, colleges, and independent professional and technological schools, ninety-three being state institutions — or one for each hundred and seventy-five thousand of population. Paradoxically, the ratio is least where the population is densest, in the northern and central states. The total number is decreasing, since consolida- tions, and the abandonment of these which are hopelessly poverty stricken more than overbalance new foundations. The total attendance is far from decreasing, however. National growth swelled the number of students, gradually at first, then with accelerated rapidity, until in recent years the rate of increase has become four times that of the population. Fifty years ago the largest universities had five or six hundred students. At the present time several have an enrollment of more than fi.ve thousand, and bid fair to become huge educational communities of double this number. The college has gained a normal attendance of hundreds, the university of thousands.^ In the country at large more than two hundred thousand young men and women are enjoying the advantages of higher education, approximately half the number being in colleges of liberal arts, and the others distributed among the various specialized schools of technical and profes- sional training. It is a magnificent army of progress, yet we must not overlook the fact that relatively only a few boys and girls ever attain these advantages. The number of children enrolled in the primary grades is about twenty advanced study of more specialized character; that at least five departments must have adequate facilities for three years of graduate work leading; to the degree of doctor of philosophy; and that there must be at least one professional or technical school requiring for entrance two years of college work. ^ The total registration at Columbia University in 1916, excluding that of its enormous summer school, was almost twelve thousand. 32 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE millions^ but this number shrinks to about a million and a half in the secondary schools, and this again to less than a quarter of a million in the more advanced institutions. The youth of the latter is almost literally one in a hundred; the rest have dropped out by the way, unwilling or unable to pursue further study. The financial side of the development of higher educa- tion has been equally impressive. "At the beginning of the nineteenth century/' says President Thwing, "the whole amount of the productive funds of all the colleges was probably less than five hundred thousand dollars."* It is now approximately four hundred millions ; and an even larger sum is represented by material equipment, such as buildings, libraries and apparatus. A few universities have endowment amounting to twenty million dollars or more; several have an income of one to three millions. Most state universities, on the other hand, have compara- tively little productive endowment, and charge small tuition fees or none at all. Their income derived from taxation, however, equals and promises to exceed that of their richly endowed sisters. A millage tax upon the property of an affluent state yields its university a revenue which privately founded institutions, even though wealthy, may well envy. The total income for the country is over a hundred million dollars, half of which comes from tuition fees, and half from gifts, bequests, interest on endowment, and taxation. Huge as are these financial figures it is nevertheless true that colleges and universities almost without exception find their resources inadequate. So vast and expensive is their work, so needful the increase of instruction and equip- ment, that the problem of making both ends meet is one which constantly faces college and university administra- tions. And it is a problem which seems to have no prospect of solution! The Development of the Curriculum The curriculum responded to the national development rather slowly. Ancient languages, rhetoric, mathematics, philosophy, with a little history and science, constituted * History of Higher Education in America, p. 334. DEVELOPMENT OF HIGHER EDUCATION S3 the bulk of college study throughout the first half of the nineteenth century as they had done for the two centuries preceding. The principal changes were that Hebrew was dropped or made elective^ the sciences of chemistry, physics, astronomy, geology, botany and zoology gained a foothold, instruction in history and economics was im- proved, and modern languages attained a somewhat un- certain standing.^ There was criticism on the ground that the college had failed to keep pace with the times, and with the new interests of expanding national life. Instruc- tion in modern languages was demanded, not only for lit- erary and historical purposes, but in order to facilitate commercial relations with other countries. Great advances were being made in the field of pure science, advances which it w^as presumably the business of the college to promulgate. Inside and outside jDressure gradually forced a reform of the curriculum. The new subjects received recognition, and the old ones reluctantly gave way. Yet the inertia of conservatism was so great that the new ideas gained ground very slowly, and we find the old order abiding in many colleges until late in the century.^ The decade 1820-1 830 witnessed an especially noteworthy outburst of the new educational idealism. Thomas Jeifer- son's plan for the University of Virginia, founded through his influence in 1825, shows the most advanced spirit of the time, and may well remain a beacon for guidance to- day. According to it the purposes of higher education are: (1) To form the statesmen, legislators, and judges, •Within the opening years of the century at least five colleges introduced instruction in chemistry and natural philosophy (phys- ics). William and Mary College established a chair of history in 1822. Economics was taught at Harvard in 1820. In the same period several colleges provided instruction in French, usually as an "extra" study. Thwing, History of Higher Education in America, pp. 301 ff. ^ "Throughout the century the history of the college curriculum is the record of institutions, under conservative influences, forced by the growth of human knowledge and the demands of an in- creasingly complex civilization, to take up one new subject after another, and present them in more vital relations to present social, industrial and political needs." Foster, Administration of the College Curriculum, p. 21. 34 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE upon whom public prosperity and individual happiness are so much to depend; (2) To expound the principles and structure of govern- ment^ the laws which regulate the intercourse of nations, those formed municipally for our own government, and a sound spirit of legislation, which, banishing all unnecessary restraint on individual action, shall leave us free to do whatever does not violate the equal rights of another; (3) To harmonize and promote the interests of agricul- ture, manufactures, and commerce, and by well informed views of political economy to give a free scope to the public industry; (4) To develop the reasoning faculties of our youth, enlarge their minds, cultivate their morals, and instil into them the precepts of virtue and order; (5) To enlighten them with mathematical and physical sciences, which advance the arts, and administer to the health, the subsistence, and comforts of human life; (6) And, generally, to form them to habits of reflection and correct action, rendering them examples of virtue to others, and of happiness within themselves."^ A central feature of this project was its application of the "elective" principle. The curriculum of the university was divided into ten departments or "schools," and it was enacted that "Every student shall be free to attend the schools of his choice, and no other than he chooses." In other colleges the same principle of freedom was very guardedly admitted in the form of "options" — between Hebrew and French, for example — or "extra studies" for which a special fee was charged. At Harvard, under the influence of George Ticknor, and at Brown under that of President Francis Wayland, there was a considerable exten- sion of the new idea. In general, however, the regime of required studies continued throughout American colleges until the last third of the century. Then at length the spirit of freedom, the increased range of study, and the strong influence of Harvard under the presidency of Eliot made the elective system dominant in American higher education. Little by little the prescribed mathematics, ^ Thwing, History of Higher Education in America, p. 199. DEVELOPMENT OF HIGHER EDUCATION 35 classics and other subjects were pushed back into the earlier years of the course^ modified or eliminated^ while their places were taken by new studies. The curriculum became an ever widening field over which the student might range almost at will.^ With regard to principles and methods of instruction the early colonial college was English in character; it began with a "tutorial" system. Later influences, particularly those of the movement toward educational freedom which culminated in the founding of the University of Virginia, were of French origin. Still later, in the latter part of the nineteenth century, it was the German university, with its advanced study and original research, which stimulated progress. Johns Hopkins University was founded at Bal- timore in 1876 especially for the training of scholars, and its influence soon spread to other institutions. The develop- ment of the curriculum called for new methods of instruc- tion. Scientific laboratories appeared, and libraries grew with unprecedented rapidity. Lectures supplanted class- room drill. College teaching became in form and sub- stance the communication of the maturest and the most recent scholarship. Inevitably there was a loss of "in- dividual training" and of the peculiar disciplinary value of the older regime, but on the whole the development produced educational maturity and signified progress. Social Development At its origin the American college, which was patterned after English models, had an inheritance of aristocratic ideas ; its enrollment was largely from the upper classes of society, and its daily life was slightly tinged by social distinctions. The revolutionary spirit of freedom and equality naturally put an end to this, however, and as the nation developed we find the college becoming increasingly "democratic," in the sense that it reached out to include * Leading institutions now Hst enough courses in a single de- partment to occupy the entire time of a student, were he to take them all at the usual rate of fifteen hours a week, during his whole college course and longer. To complete all the coi:r*f« offered by a modern university college of the first rank would take a lifetime. 36 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE all classes, and that any one with ambition could obtain its privileges. Especially did the state universities, with their free instruction, invite to their halls the youth of every sort and condition. Not only has the expanding public school system made a highway for individual prog- ress, but not infrequently young men and women outside its scope have found an open road along which they could make their way, with determined industry, to the best education that our national life affords. Young men have got their vision in the depths of an Illinois coal mine, in the granite quarries of Maine, in the factories of the east and on the farms of the west, and have attained emi- nence in law, in medicine and surgery, and as political leaders of the nation. A large majority of college students are the children of parents who did not themselves have the privileges which they bestow with such eager self sacrifice upon their sons and daughters; and at least a third of the total number are wholly or partially support- ing themselves in college. In view of these facts it is clear that higher education has become democratically rep- resentative of the nation.^ Expansion in numbers also produced complexity of organization. As the natural tendency of any large body is to subdivide into smaller groups, we find from decade to decade an increasing number of clubs and societies of various kinds, each of which helped in its own way to give character to college life. Literary and debating soci- °A1I colleges declare themselves to be internally "democratic," and the assertion is generally true. Real abihty and sterhng qualities of character everywhere receive recognition. On the whole, men win their places in college by merit, and merit alone. Class and college oiBcers, scholarly honors, positions on athletic teams, and the like, go to students who deserve them, regardless of minor considerations. Exceptions to this rule are so rare as to be negligible. In this sense democracy operates in college quite as successfully as in society at large. On the other hand there is a great deal of caste spirit, snobbishness, ostentatious wealth, and some social injustice. This is inevitable, and it lies beyond the range of regulation. If it does not take a conspic- uously offensive form, or intrude itself into the government of the college, it does not refute the assertion that the latter is really democratic. DEVELOPMENT OF HIGHER EDUCATION 37 eties came doAvn from colonial times; to these was added a lengthening list of fraternities, musical and dramatic clubs, college newsjDapers and magazines, and a dozen forms of athletic sports, not to mention numerous less conspicuous activities. ^*^ These are now numbered by scores in a single college, while several universities have well over a hundred. Social functions fill the college calendar, making college citizenship quite as complex, quite as taxing and exciting as is citizenship in a larger political group. Whereas these matters were until recently distinctly secondary features of college life, they have in some cases reached a pitch of competition with the curriculum, or even of dominance over it. One writer estimates the amount of non-studious college life as ninety per cent! But whatever the per- centage, it is certain that the college has evolved from a small boarding school into a large educational community with a multitude of diverse social interests and activities. ^-"^ One consequence of this social evolution was the separa- tion of faculty and student body. As the latter increased in numbers and in complexity of organization, the former ^° For an extensive account of this development see Sheldon, Student Life and Customs, Chs. Ill, IV, V. "AVhat should be the attitude of college authorities toward this remarkable social development is a puzzling problem. It is humorously proposed to recognize it as inevitable and to estab- lish colleges without any curriculum of study whatever, but with appropriate degrees for social and athletic accomplishment — S.S. (Social Shark), Sp.D. (Doctor Spheromachiae), and the like. More seriously we are told that study is only one kind of educa- tion, and that training for citizenship comes in other ways. Cer- tainly these social activities are not mere diversions; they are varied ways of socializing the individual in preparation for later life. Some of them, especially athletics and the college press, have the function of unifying the college body. Others are rather divisive, e.g., fraternities, but may be made cooperative in ad- vancing the welfare of the college. It should be added that the extent of this social hypertrophy is commonly overestimated. Study, because it is naturally quiet and secluded, escapes observa- tion, its currents run deep, while the superficial, effervescent froth of the stream of college life is more conspicuous. There is more hard work in college than the public is sometimes led to suppose, and the amount is increasing. Social activities are being subjected to order, related to study, and made instrumental to the good of the institution. 38 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE likewise found itself occupied with new interests, especially those of private study, so that the college community tended to divide itself into two parts which met in the class room and on certain formal occasions, but other- wise revolved around different social centers. This condi- tion has been somewhat overcome by deliberate "mixing," but in general students find few points of social contact with their instructors. Of course the parental supervision characterizing the early college is gone, irrevocably and properly, but it is to be hoped that a friendly spirit will develop in its place. What is needed is a greater measure of social intercourse based on common educational sym- pathies. Some students carry away from college, among their most highly prized recollections, that of comradeship with their teachers, a relation which gave all topics, politi- cal, recreational and religious as well as those of study, a common interest. It is desirable that more should do so. The social development also necessitated a change in ideas of college government. The domestic regime of the early college with its strict regulations and petty discipline proved inadequate to the new conditions, the more so be- cause the maturity of students increased with the spread of facilities for preparatory education, so that the prob- lem was that of governing young men rather than boys. The college atmosphere was pervaded, too, by a spirit of freedom, a legacy from revolutionary times. Lawlessness and insubordination were so frequent that "college pranks" became a byword. We read of student rebellions, of town and gown rows, of predatory societies which raided hen- roosts and wantonly destroyed property, of the ceremonial burning of textbooks, of discordant serenades to unpopular members of the faculty, and so on. The more stringent the college discipline, the greater was the temptation to perpetrate some humorous defiance of authority.^^ Here and there, however, the leaven of orderly self government was at work. The idea of a college democracy was in the mind of Thomas Jefferson, and it formed a part of his project of the University of Virginia, which influ- "See Sheldon, Student Life and Customs, Chap. III. DEVELOPMENT OF HIGHER EDUCATION 39 enced many other institutions. Among the more notable experiments were those of the University of Illinois in 1868, a very elaborate organization which soon proved imworJvable, and the more effective Amherst "senate" of 1883. The most practical feature of these schemes was the "honor system" of conducting examinations. Apart from this the various efforts were not very successful. But though the governmental organizations usually had a troubled and transitory existence, the outcome was a deep- ened sense of student responsibility, a diminution of law- lessness, and at least an approach to democratic self con- trol. Thus the soul of the nation, vigorous, bumptious, self reliant and progressive, revealed itself in the life of the college. Finally, the social development of the college has dis- played idealism in respect to religion. The early condi- tions, it will be recalled, were those of strict orthodoxy and formal piety, conditions which could not remain un- affected by the secular tendencies of national life. In time, under the influence of the revolutionary spirit, the college atmosphere was shot through with free thinking. Atheism and agnosticism were occasionally in fashion. Conformity to religious requirements tended to become perfunctory or even disorderly, and indifference to religious interests sometimes took the form of vicious practices. On the other hand the formation of religious societies, par- ticularly the Christian Associations which entered the colleges in the latter part of the century, encouraged religious interest and gave it practical direction. Teaching no less than practice presented religion in a more favorable light. Its vital function in human life is recognized, be- cause it is seen to mean, not verbal profession or formal worship, but faith in one's fellows, right purposes, and friendly helpfulness. Even the doubtful who, like Abou Ben Adhem, are uncertain about their relation to God, desire to be written among those who love their fellow men. Though there is yet large room for religious development in college life the general tendency is upward. CHAPTER IV SPECIAL DEVELOPMENTS The Small College Of the hundreds of American institutions of higher education most are small colleges. Of the thousands of college students more than half are in little schools of learning scattered here and there throughout the country, many of them hardly known outside the circle of their immediate environment. Though the huge university is more consjDicuous, and perhaps increasingly dominant in the movement of higher education, the spread and force of that movement reach far beyond the universities. The prevalent form of American higher learning is found in the halls of the small college. The historical development of such colleges has been in general outline uniform. Established in faith and poverty they have worked loyally in memory of their founders, facing needs greatly in excess of their resources, and aim- ing constantly at ideals higher than mere material pros- perity. Some have grown to the proportions of universities; a few have yielded to adverse circumstances and have been abandoned; most have persistently struggled along from year to year, preserving their original character and in some cases fortunately attaining independence. More than one is peculiarly a monument to a great president, a leader of large faith and broad vision who wrought wisely, untiringly, and with splendid self sacrifice, establishing the college firmly, and sending forth into the community, the state and the nation a stream of young men and young women characterized in some measure by his own steadiness 40 SPECIAL DEVELOPMENTS 41 of purpose and energetic faith. ^ To belong as alumnus to such an institution is a lifelong distinction. The small college ordinarily labors under great diffi- culties^ however. Students usually prefer to enter larger and better equipped institutions, and those who come with a more modest ambition are sometimes drawn away to universities before the completion of their course. And in addition to such loss the prolongation of the high school course and the overshadowing importance of the profes- sional and technical school seem in some cases to threaten the very existence of the small college. It is "squeezed" from all sides ! The proposal has been made that it aban- don its four year course and limit its work to the first two years of preparation for university study, a function for which it is especially fitted.^ But as this change would virtually mean a termination of its historic individuality it can hardly find favor. Most colleges prefer to fight on. The financial problem is especially serious. Almost every college feels the pinches of poverty, since the de- mand for instruction and the need of new material facili- ties increases more rapidly than its income. Its scanty endowment proves wholly inadequate, and support by the religious denomination which it represents is a fluctuating and uncertain resource. Fees must be low, particularly in competition with state universities which charge none, and this enhances the difficulty since higher education always costs more than the individual pays in fees. The expense per student is not infrequently two or three times the amount charged for tuition,^ and the deficit is increased in the case of students who enjoy free scholarships. ^ Such, for example, were Eliphalet Nott of Union, Mark Hop- kins of Williams, Francis Wayland of Brown, Nathan Lord of Dartmouth and Leonard Woods of Bowdoin. President Thwing remarks that "the history of each of these colleges is embodied in the biography of its president." History of Higher Education in America, p. 280. ^ Harper, Trend in Higher Education, pp. 378 ff. ^Evidently this unbusinesslike practice can be justified only by one consideration — the additional value of the educated citizen to society. Colleges are semi-philanthropic institutions, and on this ground are usually relieved wholly or in part of the burden of taxation. But this implies that they shall send out a properly 42 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE Forces seem to conspire to keep the college poor! Yet this academic poverty is often of a healthy, hoj^efiil kind. The college looks forward to brighter days, and in the meantime works industriously with the means at its command. There can be no doubt of the value of the services of the small colleges to the nation. Their necessary limitation to fundamentals in the curriculum, the close personal atten- tion which their size permits them to give to the individual student, their intimate group life — these and other char- acteristics are distinctly meritorious. Situated in scores of communities which would otherwise have been without higher educational advantages, they have done much to sharpen the intelligence, elevate the taste, and strengthen the moral life of the American people. The State University In the state university we have a special development of American higher education which is perhaps its most distinctive and significant feature. It is not novel in principle, for the colonial colleges were in a sense state projects; but in its aims, the scope of its work, and the form which it has assumed in response to public needs, it peculiarly expresses the American spirit and gives promise for the future. It is the culminating embodiment of what has been termed the "state educational conscious- ness," i.e., the conviction that higher education is properly a function of the state, a sense of duty to support such education financially, and a conception of the service which the institution may render the state in return for this sup- port. Many important problems of social, political and industrial life are under continual investigation at the state universities. These great and growing schools are destined to play a vital part in the development, not' only of their respective states, but of the nation.* educated and socialized product — and that this responsibility rests likewise upon the student. Free scholarships are justified in the same way. The recipients are not objects of charity, but are concrete human investments from whom a future return in good citizenship is rightly expected. *A few cities have likewise capped their public school systems SPECIAL DEVELOPMENTS 4S The first movement of the sort appeared in the South. Mar3dand, Georgia, North Carolina and Tennessee estab- lished colleges before the close of the eighteenth century, and other states soon followed their example.^ The Uni- versity of Virginia is especially noteworthy as the embodi- ment of the politico-educational ideas of Thomas Jefferson. A somewhat distinct movement began with the founding of universities by several states of the west, for from these have come the great institutions of the present day. The University of Michigan was founded in 1837. One commonwealth after another declared its conviction that social and political welfare are dependent upon an edu- cated citizenship, until the network of universities stretched unbroken, except in a few of the Atlantic coast states, from Maine to California, from Florida to Washington. At the outset the state institutions naturally assumed the traditional form of the earlier colleges, continuing the familiar curriculum and social life. In the closing decades of the nineteenth century, however, they developed the peculiar character which makes them of special interest to the student of the history of higher education. The dominating idea becomes that of organic relation to the state. Accordingly we find them putting themselves in closer touch with the secondary schools, broadening and simplifying entrance requirements, improving administra- tion, eliminating corrupt political influences, and devising more generous support, frequently in the form of regular taxation. The curriculum expands in an unprecedented way both culturally and practically, but with special atten- tion to the economic needs of the state and the develop- ment of intelligent citizenship.^ with a college or university. New York, Cincinnati, Louisville and a few others now have such municipal institutions. There have also been repeated projects for a national university, but as yet this idea remains unrealized, though the interest of the national government in higher education is expressed in a variety of ways, such as the Carnegie Bureau of Research and the Smithsonian Institution. ^ A leading motive was the desire to avoid the necessity of send- ing young men to the distant institutions of the north, with their different political and social atmosphere. ®The University of Illinois, for example, includes the follow- 44 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE As a result of this development their attendance in- creases by leaps and bounds. Several have now passed the five thousand mark^ and a few find themselves facing an approaching flood of double this number. Every year many thousands of American youth pass naturally and easily from their secondary schools to the best university education which their respective states afford. Higher learning broadens from an aristocratic privilege to a demo- cratic opportunity. No less significant are the varied forms of service which the university performs for its constituency throughout the state. To take the University of Wisconsin, the leader in this service, as an arch illustration, its library sends books all over the 56,000 square miles of its "larger campus," its school of agriculture develops improved meth- ods of dairying and instructs farmers in the use of them, members of its faculty serve on all sorts of state boards, commissions and surveys, its students cooperate in gather- ing and distributing information on political and social topics. In short it is animated by an idealism of effective service which wins the respect and pride of the state as well as a liberal income.'^ Social and moral conditions within the state universities are sometimes contrasted unfavorably, especially by relig- ious critics, with those of other colleges. Such criticism, however, is usually the expression of ignorance and preju- ing departments: College of Literature and Arts, College of Science, College of Engineering, College of Agriculture, Grad- uate School, Library School, School of Music, School of Educa- tion, School of Railway Engineering and Administration, College of Law, School of Pharmacy. Elsewhere we find schools of min- ing, of forestry, of medicine, of veterinary science, of journalism, and of architecture, under state auspices. Perhaps, as is alleged, the dominating spirit of state university education is practical, but it is noteworthy that the older curriculum of liberal study is retained and that several institutions are developing graduate schools with a tendency toward scholarly research. The Uni- versity of Cahfornia includes the Lick Observatory, and pubhshes volumes on archeology, ethnology, classical philology and philos- ophy. ■^ For a detailed statement see Slosson, Great American Univer- sities, Chap. VII. SPECIAL DEVELOPMENTS 45 dice. Whatever differences exist are superficial rather than profound. Human nature is essentially the same in college students and college faculties of all types. Yet it is true that the state university enjoys a heightened "con- sciousness of freedom" in respect to daily life, a feeling which arises partly from the absence of religious control, but also from its sheer size, which necessarily increases the distance between the central authority and the individ- ual student. As a result there is perhaps a more prevalent inclination toward bumptious and boisterous fun-making than is found in privately controlled institutions. Its performances are more massive and unrestrained, hence more conspicuous. Possibly, too, the social frivolities in- cidental to coeduation are somewhat more wearisome, for here again is a matter which the size and constitution of the university renders difficult of regulation. But in spite of such abuse of freedom the life of the state university is on the whole sound and healthy. If the forces of folly are stronger than in the small college they are not so in comparison with other great universities, and in any case the forces of right living are at least equally strong. Religious tendencies are likewise progressive. State universities are of course constitutionally free from sec- tarian domination, and at the same time are careful not to give offence to sectarian feeling. Attendance at religious services is voluntary, and the teaching of religious subjects must be broad if not strictly scientific and historical. On the other hand the Young Men's and Young Women's Christian Associations, not to mention numerous other organizations, take care of the religious interests of the individual student, and also perform various unofficial but effective services to the college community. Denominational authorities also are finding it desirable to maintain "col- lege pastors" for the hundreds of students of their respec- tive faiths in residence at the state university — numbers sometimes greater than those within their own colleges. Thus the atmosphere of religious freedom is favorable to harmony and progress; and the general condition which results is an advancement of religion in the broadest and best meaning of the term. 46 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE Higher Education for Women This is less than a century old. In colonial times girls were trained in their homes for domestic duties — spinning, weaving and the other household arts — and were thought incapable of receiving intellectual education, though occa- sionally they shared private instruction with their brothers, and there were notable cases of highly cultured women in Revolutionary days. But with few exceptions there were no schools for girls,^ and little "schooling" beyond the most elementary kind. Illiteracy among women was com- mon. The need of education for women appeared in conse- quence of the industrial development of the country, and the increasing complexity of social life. The changing conditions tended to relieve them of their traditional do- mestic occupations and to place them in positions for which other qualifications were requisite. There was dan- ger, of course, as we sometimes see to-day, that the kind of education fashionable for them would become that of shallow intellectual and artistic accomplishments, decorative rather than substantial. But fortunately a healthier development took place, partly through the special efforts of wise men and women who understood the problem, partly through the general extension to girls of the education which had previously been given only to boys. In 1790 Boston admitted girls to its public schools, and ere long its example was followed by other cities and towns. Somewhat later several academies opened their doors to girls as well as to boys, while others were established exclusively for them. Particularly noteworthy are Emma Willard's seminary at Troy, which began its work in 1822, and Mount Holyoke, founded by Mary Lyon in 1837. The spirit of these schools was studious and at the same time deeply religious. They are monuments of the earnest, thoughtful desire of their founders to give *The Moravians had a seminary for girls at Bethlehem, Penn- sylvania, as early as 1749. For a description of colonial condi- tions see Thwing, History of Higher Education in America, Ch. XV. SPECIAL DEVELOPMENTS 47 young women a form of education appropriate to their nature and situation in life. The college education of women began at Oberlin. Four entered in 1837 as candidates for a degree, and three of these graduated four j^ears later, the first women to receive a college degree in America. Oberlin thus set the example of collegiate coeducation for the country, an example which was soon followed by many other institutions. Of the colleges exclusively for women Elmira, established in 1855, was the pioneer. Ten years later Matthew Vassar founded the college which bears his name,^ and this was followed by other important foundations, Wellesley, Smith, Bryn IMawr, which independently gave women the opportunity of higher education. A third type appeared in the found- ing of Radcliffe College in 1879 as an annex to Harvard. Before the end of the century several other colleges and universities created similar departments for women, though usually with a limited curriculum and inadequate facilities. But here as elsewhere in college history small beginnings led to a more prosperous condition. The annex became the "coordinate college," growing quite as rapidly as its big brother, and, it must be acknowledged, displaying consid- erably more educational earnestness ! Each of these three types has its peculiarities, its ad- vantages and disadvantages, both in curriculum facilities and in social life. Coeducation, however, is the predomi- nant type throughout the country; in fact almost all col- leges and universities admit young men and J^oung women on the same footing.^^ Young women have flocked to institutions of each kind. In coeducational colleges, especially those belonging to state universities, they usually outnumber the men, some- ' "It is my hope to be the instrument, in the hands of Provi- dence, of founding and perpetuating an institution which shall accomplish for young women what our colleges are accomplishing for young men." See Thwing, op. cit., p. 344, 345. ^•^ Most of the colleges exclusively for either sex are in the At- lantic Coast states, and some of these belong to universities, e.g., Yale, which admit women to certain departments. Three state universities, Virginia, Georgia and Florida, have not as yet joined the coeducational ranks. 48 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE times in large preponderance, since the latter gravitate naturally toward technical and professional schools. Inci- dentally, very interesting problems have arisen concerning the kind of education most appropriate for women in respect to their tastes, natural habits of mind, and probable occupation in life. At the outset women necessarily ac- cepted the existing curriculum, and sought zealously to demonstrate their competency in it — an eifort which proved unquestionably successful. It is not clear, however, that this curriculum is altogether adapted to their needs. As general culture it is doubtless appropriate for both sexes, but as preparation for vocational life — and it has always included a great deal of this — it is conspicuously devoid of training for the kind of occupation into which most women go. This fact has led some institutions, especially state universities, to develop the scientific study of household economics to a high level of organization and efficiency. In advanced graduate and professional study comparatively few women are found, partly through lack of interest in research, but also, no doubt, because of unpromising eco- nomic conditions. As regards collegiate education, however, there is no question that it has proved acceptable, or that it has been abundantly justified by its results. CHAPTER V THE PURPOSE OF THE COLLEGE The Meaning of Education What is "education"? Since the college, like other schools, makes a business of it, let us begin by considering its general meaning. We find that definitions usually emphasize one or another of three ideas, all of which are essential. First, the traditional and familiar view is that education is a training of the mind, — a training especially of the intelligence, but also to some extent a training of the feelings and the will. It sharpens the powers of atten- tion, of judgment and reasoning, it brings stores of infor- mation, it cultivates taste and sympathy, it forms habits and encourages activity and enterprise. Second, as the derivation of the term indicates, it "brings out" what is implicit in human nature. It develops instincts, interests and capabilities into mature power. Third, it "adjusts the individual to his environment" by giving him a better understanding of nature and a useful place in the world. Ideally, therefore, education is the process of developing the individual as an intelligent, active and sympathetic member of society. This rather vague idea becomes clearer when we note that education deals with three fundamental characteristics of human nature, work, play and love — work in the sense of all serious, productive effort; play signifying broadly all forms of recreation, both physical and mental; love in its generic meaning of sympathetic social relationships — the scriptural and basic meaning of the term. These are indeed the essential features of life itself; without them the individual seems to us lacking in humanity. Workless lives there are, it is true — the tramp at one end of the 49 50 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE social scale and the idle rich at the other; but they arouse in us an instinctive revulsion. So too there are playless lives, and these, particularly in the case of children, are sometimes tragic. The discovery of the significance of play, and of the need of providing facilities for it, is one of the great educational accomplishments of recent times. Finally there are essentially unsympathetic lives, and they never fail to remind us that sympathy is essential to humanity. These interests are our human birthright; na- ture has provided us with instincts for exercising them. They are therefore also life's aims. They are not separate and unrelated, however. Work may be done in the spirit of play — perhaps it should be so done much more frequently than is usual. Likewise many engaging plays — football and chess, for example — are rather hard work. And both work and play are ordi- narily social performances; indeed their value lies partly in this fact. Love also expresses itself in both work and play. These aspects of life are thoroughly interdependent, and the ideal life is one which combines them in harmony. Education may therefore be regarded as the development and correlation of them in preparation for life. We too commonly think of education as exclusively a matter of the intellect, and identify it with the process of acquiring information. We treat it as synonymous with knowledge or learning, as in the familiar saying that the educated man knows something about everything and everything about something. Accordingly our school cur- riculum makes its demands for the most part upon the intellect of the pupil, and sometimes seems hardly more than an effort to fill him up with facts and to give practice in routine mental operations. This view has a sound principle, namely that education is mental training. But it is one-sided in its emphasis upon recitation and its failure to recognize other forms of reaction. Education ought to involve the doing of things under the actual conditions of life. Moreover, the common view too often takes little or no account of the function of play and of the social nature of the individual. These should not be left to the casual training and associations of the THE PURPOSE OF THE COLLEGE 51 school plaj^ground and the street. In other words the mind should be trained, not simply for the sake of intel- lectual proficiency, but for the better exercise of all its industrial, recreational and sympathetic interests.^ College Education Like all education that of the college is the development of natural interests and powers. Its distinctive character is that by using the maturer faculties of the mind it accomplishes this in a more advanced and thorough way than do the lower schools. As training for work it dis- ciplines the student in habits of intensive study; it teaches him to formulate a j^roblem, gather materials for its solu- tion, and think his way through to a conclusion. It thus cultivates the power of intelligent self direction and inde- pendent activity. In contrast to the technical and pro- fessional schools it offers less specific preparation for particular vocations, but its training, though more general, is none the less valuable with reference to later work. Analytic skill, systematic thoroughness, and the power of independent effort make for efficiency and success in every sphere of human activity.^ ^"I take it that the whole object of education is, in the first place, to train the faculties of the young in such a manner as to give their possessors the best chance of being happy and use- ful in their generation; and, in the second place, to furnish them with the most important portions of that immense capital- ized experience of the human race which we call knowledge of various kinds." Huxley, Science, Art, and Education. ^ There is plenty of evidence, statistics as well as personal testimony, that college students who give themselves this sort of training distinguish themselves in later life. The common opinion that the hard student is less successful than the unstudious "all round college man" is a lingering superstition unsupported by facts. Habits of luxury, laziness and superficial reading, even when accompanied by good nature and energy in "college life," do not constitute satisfactory preparation for industrial or pro- fessional pursuits. Fortunately it is possible to o%^ercome most bad habits after leaving college. Many young men have been saved by going to work at hard, monotonous drudgery in office or factory. But these, in their own judgment, would have fared better had they made themselves capable workmen in their col- lege years. 52 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE Secondly, the college offers facilities for training in play. Most conspicuous are those for physical recreation, a gymnasium full of apparatus, and an athletic field with gridiron, diamond, track and courts. Every one ought to learn, if he has not done so before entering college, how to take exercise in enjoyable ways. But play is not only physical; it includes mental recreation, and it is the duty of the college to develop such interests. A cultivated taste for the best literature and an appreciative under- standing of the principal forms of art, especially music, the drama, painting and architecture, should be among the permanent results of a college course, to the relative exclusion of the forms of art and literature characteristic of the cheap novel and magazine, the Sunday Supplement, vaudeville and ragtime. A catholic taste may also be refined. In the third place, college education is social education. We ordinarily take our social nature and relationships so uncritically that we do not appreciate the need of special attention and training in such matters. Yet this need un- questionably exists. It is quite as absurd to leave the social instincts to casual development as it would be to do this with intellectual powers. Education is requisite in both cases. The college is the place where the most thor- oughly "socialized" type should be developed, the place from which the student should go forth with the best equip- ment for citizenship and social helpfulness. The features of college life which are especially useful for this purpose\ are the friendships, athletic games, clubs and fraternities, in fact every enterprise which involves the cooperation of several persons. The common enthusiasm, the sinking of selfish interests, the labor for some cause which is bigger than oneself, are the best social training. Yet these need to be rationally controlled and directed to worthy ends. The pitiable isolation of the man who cannot "mix" is no worse than the gregariousness which cannot bear solitude, or the cheap good fellowship of the "sport," or the frothi- ness of "society."^ Accordingly it is the business of the ^ The sound idea of college education as "training for citizen- ship is occasionally perverted into contempt for study in com- THE PURPOSE OF THE COLLEGE 5S college to teach students the nature of their own social instinct and their relation to larger social activities.* The distinctive character of college education lies in its application of the mature powers of the mind. Its train- ing is more learned^ is broader and more thorough than that of the lower schools. This implies in the first place that college graduates shall be able, as President Hadley has said, to calculate the unseen consequences of proposed conduct, and thus determine whether an action will in the long run work out the general good. Hasty, short sighted impulses are to be regulated by deliberately observing ultimate results. Secondly, higher education should lead to a more intelligent correlation of the various interests of life. Work and play, study and social effort all have their rightful place, and the difficulty is sometimes that of deciding what place. College training ought to prevent onesidedness of any sort, for the "grind" and the "sport" miss the same fullness of life. As a matter of fact college graduates as a class probably lead the most intel- ligent, well rounded, symmetrical lives. Cultural and Practical Education We have here an interesting controversy over educational ideals. Let us first see how it arose. The earliest colleges were founded with a double purpose, to produce an educated clergy and an intelligent, moral parison with the social features of college life. Many under- graduates and a few of their teachers have a comfortable con- viction that four years of good fellowship, with a modicum of intellectual labor in the form of "culture courses," constitute the best preparation for life. Ideal citizenship, like professional success, is not attainable except through hard work. * The sympathetic spirit is especially admirable when it spreads beyond the little group of personal associates and reaches hu- manity outside the college walls. Nothing is more to the credit of the modern college than the increasing number of young men and women who devote some time to social service, for example, work with boys' clubs and girls' classes. The period of later youth is naturally the one when the sympathies expand; and it is correspondingly desirable that these should become habituated to active, helpful expression during college years. The gain to society is matched by the strengthening and purification of the worker's character. 54 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE citizenship; in other words their aim was at the same time vocational training and liberal culture. Moreover, this twofold purpose remained as the college curriculum ex- panded. The ministry, it is true, ceased to be the leading vocation, and fell into the background, while certain other occupations, particularly teaching, medicine, law and busi- ness, came to the fore; but at all times we find students pursuing their college course with definite occupational purpose, and where possible selecting their studies with reference to this. On the other hand the conception of a "liberal education" expanded during the nineteenth cen- tury, and the college became its chief representative. The curriculum is therefore composed of subjects which are instrumental rather to a broad, well rounded life than to any single calling. This process was of course facilitated by the separation of vocational curricula in distinct schools, and by the indifference of college teachers to vocational interests. It is noteworthy, too, that studies which entered the college course for practical reasons tended to assume the broader function of liberal culture. This is true of modern language, economics, education, and other studies. Hence in the minds of many people the task of the college is properly, even exclusively, that of giving a liberal educa- tion. Historically, both purposes have always manifested themselves. The practical mind of college youth is shown by the choice of subjects with reference to future professional study — for example chemistry and biology as preliminaries to medical training — and by the demand for a shortened course leading to a degree. At the same time there is impatience with studies which seem useless because not clearly related to vocational ends. Literature, history, mathematics and philosophy are regarded as futile by those who expect to graduate into a factory office, to superintend the construction of a railroad, or to deal with the specialized problems of law and medicine. Every field beside the narrow road which leads to making a living is thus likely to be regarded with disfavor, and some, par- ticularly the classics and pure mathematics, are especially unpopular. It is not sufficiently understood that non- THE PURPOSE OF THE COLLEGE 55 vocational subjects may be "ultimately practical" in the sense of leading to an intelligent, sympathetic, self con- trolled and efficient life. Every student who is interested in this problem ought to grasp finally the truth that the practical business of life is much broader than the earning of a livelihood. Unfortunately the term "culture" is equally misunder- stood. Properly it signifies a general familiarity and sympathy with the studies, the literature, science and art, which represent various aspects of historical and contem- porary civilization, and which consequently give the student an intelligent view of nature and human society. A broad knowledge of literature, an appreciation of works of art, and an acquaintance with the conceptions of science, these enter into the meaning of "culture." In a narrow and unfortunate usage the term is taken to indicate a snobbish propensity for "polite learning," familiarity with classical allusions, and a dabbling in art. It correctly stands for a studied and sympathetic acquaintance with humanity and with the world at large. The cultured are those who have an intelligent outlook upon all matters, refined enjoyments, and last but not least, an active idealism.^ Cultural and practical subjects do not fall into two distinct classes. Any study, even Indie philology, is vocational for the person who intends to teach it, and most may become instrumental to one occupation or another — literature to the editor, philosophy to the clergyman, mathematics to the engineer, the history of art to the architect, logic to the lawyer, and so on. Conversely, such vocational subjects as education, banking, household chem- istry, and journalism may become the means of broadening the student's outlook upon life in true cultural fashion. Evidently the distinction between cultural and practical education depends largely upon the spirit and purpose with which a study is undertaken. The cultured mind pursues a subject for the love of it and for the resulting breadth of view. The practical mind studies for the sake of money, power, efficiency, success. Too frequently, indeed, its con- ception of success is narrow and selfish, but it is not ' Cf . article on "Culture" in Cyclopedia of Education, 56 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE necessarily so. High souled professional ambition^ eager to serve;, indifferent to personal gain, unselfish and philan- thropic, — this is far from being an unknown species of the "practical mind." The vocational spirit may be as idealistic as the spirit of culture. In fact we find the two ideas merging in the conception of individual perfection and social service. These are ideals of culture and at the same time practical matters. The college curriculum is therefore both cultural and vocational, liberal and practical. Its various studies lead to a broad acquaintance with nature and human affairs, and so constitute a general preparation for life, while at the same time they may be pursued with definitely occu- pational motives, and may possess great practical value. Some departments, no doubt, are primarily vocational; perhaps education is the best example. The curriculum as a whole, however, is predominantly cultural in char- acter. The vocational spirit deserves encouragement. In gen- eral the most earnest students are those who are facing the problem of their business in life, and conversely the worthless ones are for the most part those who lack a definite and determined ambition. There are exceptions, of course. The vocational idea may be nothing more than a whim, or a hope, or a passive expectation of an easy berth, in which cases it imparts no great seriousness to study. On the other hand there are natural scholars whose lifelong delight is study for study's sake.^ But for the majority the root of earnest endeavor is the "life career motive."^ It is interesting to observe the change which sometimes comes over a genial, happy-go-lucky fel- '"I have never yet met with any branch of knowledge which I have found unattractive — which it would not have been pleasant to me to follow, so far as I could go; and I have yet to meet with any form of art in which it has not been possible for me to take as acute a pleasure as, I believe, it is possible for men to take." Huxley. ^ It is especially significant that those who malign the "utili- tarian" spirit in college education usually had a vigorous voca- tional purpose in their own college years. They were preparing themselves for some particular occupation, frequently that of teaching. THE PURPOSE OF THE COLLEGE 57 low in his senior year^ as he realizes that sterner realities are approaching. Facing the future and preparing for it he forthwith makes a man of himself. Furthermore, col- lege graduates who gain distinction appear as a rule to have had some vocational purpose in college, though not always that of their subsequent pursuit. Thus the prac- tical spirit is justified by its children. Perhaps there would be less controversy over this sub- ject if the participants more commonly observed the distinction between training in a vocation and training for one.^ The former is the business of the technical and professional school, the latter may well be included in the purpose of the college. In other words the vocational ideal may be so broad that it virtually approximates the cultural ideal. With this understanding of terms we can pass the same condemnation upon the narrow mindedness which sees no value in fields of study aside from the path of practical pursuit, and upon the academic "culture" which fails to face man's duty in the world, or consists of a superficial acquaintance with literature and art. One's special interest is after all a part, even if a dominant part, of a larger experience; and it needs a background of intelligent familiarity with various aspects of nature and human life. These give it breadth of scope and usefulness, while on the other hand it unifies what would otherwise be an incoherent collection of unrelated studies. In President Butler's striking phrase, what the world needs and what the college should produce is "broad men, sharpened to a point."^ ^ President Tucker points out this distinction. The Problems of the Historic College, Educational Review, May, 1912, pp. 440, 441. ^ The Meaning of Education, p. 147. CHAPTER VI THE COLLEGE CURRICULUM Fields of Study The college curriculum is descended from the so-called "seven liberal arts" of the medieval university, the trivium of grammar, rhetoric and dialectic, and the quadrivium of arithmetic, geometry, astronomy and music. This range of study was of course altered and amplified in the develop- ment of university education, at Oxford and Cambridge as elsewhere. In the first American colleges, as we have seen, the curriculum assumed a form substantially like that of English university instruction in the same period. It comprised classical languages, philosophy and theology, a little history and smatterings of science. Latin was its official tongue, and it included much rhetorical training. Various motives, mostly of a practical sort, forced its expansion into a form corresponding to the breadth of contemporary learning. Modern languages, physical and social sciences were added while the older studies with few exceptions remained. The standard college curriculum of to-day consists of several broad fields of study which may be tabulated as follows: Mathematics Natural Science Physical Science Physics Chemistry Astronomy Geology Biological Science Botany Zoology 58 THE COLLEGE CURRICULUM 59 Social Science Economics Political Science Sociology History- Language and Literature Ancient Greek Latin Modern English Romance Germanic Philosophy and Psychology This is of course a basic rather than a complete state- ment. We find in many colleges the additional fields of Art and Education, the latter, indeed, is now almost uni- versal. There are also subdivisions, extensions and com- binations of science, literature and history which sometimes appear as independent departments. Thus we might add to the natural sciences mechanics, mineralogy, physical geography, physiology and anatomy; to the social sciences anthropology and archeology; to the languages and litera- tures several others, both European and Oriental. And still further studies are found here and there. Colleges belonging to huge universities are especially prolific in such ramifications, since the technical and professional schools surrounding the college provide numerous practical extensions of the curriculum. These fields should not be thought of as sharply separate; they overlap and interpenetrate one another. Mathematics pervades astronomy and physics, biology runs into sociology and psychology, literature involves history and philosophy, and philosophy itself draws its material from all sources. Such titles as "astronomical physics," "organic chemistry," and "social psychology" show how different subjects blend. As a matter of departmental arrangement history and political science are frequently yoked together, as are psychology and education. Every 60 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE subject may be studied historically, that is to say with reference to its development^ and all are studied more or less scientifically. Hence any division of the whole field is somewhat arbitrary, — the domain of human knowledge cannot be parcelled off into mutually exclusive states. It is rather to be regarded as an "organism/' as a living body every part of which is intimately related to and dependent upon every other part. Science and Appreciation Underlying the curriculum we discern two kinds of study interest, that of "science," and another which we will call, for want of a better name, "appreciation." By science, in the most general usage of the term, we mean painstak- ing study and the precise, systematic knowledge which re- sults therefrom. It is the exact description and explana- tion of facts. The sciences are the various "knowledges" of special fields or kinds of fact; they are all alike perme- ated with the "scientific spirit" of investigation, a relentless desire to know the truth. "Appreciative interest," on the other hand, is less exact and technical in its study of detail ; it is directed especially toward the ordinary affairs of human life — art, conduct and religion; and in consequence it is distinctively characterized by its sense of the esthetic, moral and religious value of its objects. Whereas scien- tific facts and laws as such are neither good nor bad, beautiful nor ugly, but simple are, or in other words have only truth, the deeds of men and the expressions of the human mind in literature and art have a worth to which we respond with all sorts of feelings and with judgments of approval or disapproval. The truth value of sheer fact is thus a somewhat separable interest from esthetic, ethical and religious values. The latter are matters of appreciation.^ ^ This distinction is important. For further illustration com- pare our appreciation of Shakespeare's Hamlet with the precise discussion of sources, date of composition, disputed readings and other points of scientific interest; or our everyday senti- ments, vindictive and humanitarian, toward crime and poverty with the sociological treatment of their causes and methods of THE COLLEGE CURRICULUM 61 Both interests are present throughout the curriculum in varying degree. The scientific interest is most obvious in mathematics and in the natural sciences, while the ap- preciative point of view prevails in the fields of literature and philosophy. The social sciences and history occupy an intermediate position. It is to be noted, however, that the modern study of all subjects is scientific in method, and that the appreciative interest may be subordinated to exact investigation, as when, for example, literature is studied in a purely philological or grammatical way, or inquiry is made into the mathematical and psychological laws of musical harmony. On the other hand scientific study produces its own peculiar forms of appreciation, though the beauty of a mathematical theorem or enthusiasm in dissecting a frog may not be universally felt. But while the two interests blend in actual study they ordi- narily do so in different degrees, and accordingly we find that the curriculum shows a twofold character.^ Most of our daily life, we may observe, is appreciative rather than scientific. In our family relations and our friendships, our recreations, and even to a great extent in our work we are not at all scientifically minded. Our ideas are vague and we act on a basis of feeling, habit and custom — likes and dislikes, affection, hope, trust and rev- erence. Much of the time we "live by faith," whether we are aware of it or not. Our wisest guidance often comes in the form of the great fundamental truths of human nature, such as we find in the literary classics of ancient and modern times, for example the words of Jesus, the sayings of Epictetus, or Emerson's Essaj^s. Most of this truth was discovered and set down century upon century ago, and the appreciative study of it is still an important part of our education. Nevertheless this is a scientific age. Not that science is prevention; or our uncritical religious faith with the searching questions now asked about origin, authority and stages of de- velopment. ^ This is of course the explanation of the names "College of Arts and Sciences" and "College of Literature and Science," which some institutions have adopted in place of the ancestral title "College of Liberal Arts." 62 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE wholly new^ for certain sciences, particularly astronomy and mathematics, are very old; and important discoveries have been made in several fields for thousands of years. But the scientific achievements of the last century, and indeed of the last forty years, far exceed those of all the preceding ages of civilization together. Nowadays there is no subject of human interest which is not touched by science. We see tliat all nature around us — the stars in the sky, the dew on the stone, the flower in the grass, and the spider that weaves its flat dwelling from stem to leaf — is, so to speak, living and working scientific fact and law. Familiar objects of every day life, such as electric cars, concrete buildings, steel bridges, food, clothes, books and all the numberless appurtenances of our civilization, are products of applied science. Even government, morals and religion are increasingly affected by scientific research. We cannot really understand the processes of nature or the works of man except in scientific terms. Our appre- ciative life as individuals is aided and corrected, our ad- vancing culture as a people is guided, by science. Science in the Curriculum Mathematics is the most exact and at the same time the most abstract science; it essentially consists of deductive reasoning by the use of symbols which represent any kind of magnitude or quantity. It is supremely the science of abstract reasoning, and as such it is naturally interesting to many minds. It also has conspicuous utility for certain branches of science, particularly astronomy, physics, me- chanics and the different forms of engineering; in these fields it gives command of the methods by which their special problems are solved. More generally, it bears upon our daily life, since it enables us to understand many matters of experience better than we otherwise could. Thus a grasp of geometry, trigonometry and calculus will give us a more intelligent comprehension of the approach of a comet, of the route of a trans-oceanic steamer, of the architecture of a bridge or a building, or of the basis of life insurance. Perhaps the subject ought to be presented THE COLLEGE CURRICULUM 63 with more explicit reference to such facts of ordinary- experience than is usually the case. Mathematics is commonly supposed to afford the most valuable training in reasoning; indeed this is the ground for prescribing it as a college study. This opinion is largely mistaken^ however. There is no general power or faculty of reasoning which applies to all subjects and which can be abstractly trained. The form of reasoning always depends upon the particular kind of subject mat- ter; in bridge design it is of one sort, in politics it is of another. Accordingly mathematics is useful in training the mind for attacking further branches of mathematics, or other subjects in so far as they are mathematical in character; but it hardly helps us in such rational problems as selecting a course of study, predicting the outcome of a football game, dealing with a refractory child, or deciding how to spend one's vacation. In these difficulties what is needed is experience and "good judgment." It frequently, though not invariably happens that good mathematicians are successful in other, non-mathematical studies, but there is little evidence that one gains skill in the latter through increased knowledge of mathematics. This is the point at issue, and it is not proved by the fact that the brilliancy of some minds shines equally in all directions. There is no doubt that one may use mathematical study to discipline his will in patience, persistence, and other desirable quali- ties of character, but he may obtain the same discipline by the inevitable difficulties and drudgery incidental to any thorough pursuit. There are enough good reasons for studying mathematics without resorting to any questionable ones. In the natural sciences we find "scientific method" in its clearest and most expert form. Careful observation of facts and explanation of them in terms of the laws of nature, the use of apparatus and experiment, hypothesis, prediction and verification, these are the methodical prac- tices of modern science. Accordingly the natural sciences have special value in developing a scientific habit of mind.^ ^ It must be acknowledged, however, that scientific training in one field does not necessarily produce a scientific attitude of 64 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE They also have vocational significance; thus chemistry and biology are prerequisite for the profession of medicine. But no less cordial a recommendation of them^ at least from the standpoint of the advocate of liberal education, is the intelligent friendliness with nature which they give. The waxing and waning of the moon, the swelling of the buds in the spring and the deepening red and gold of the autumn leaf, the lonely boulder on the shore — these are typical items of every day experience which mean more to us through the study of astronomy, botany and geology. Probably our esthetic appreciation of them is not changed, but there is certainly a gain in intellectual satisfaction. Likewise our understanding of the works of civilization which surround us, the aeroplane, for example, depends upon our grasp of the scientific principles which underlie their construction. The peculiar interest of the social sciences is due to the fact that many of our most important topics of considera- tion to-day are problems of human society. Industrial com- bination, commission government, woman's suffrage, slum conditions, penal methods, divorce legislation, not to men- tion numerous other equally familiar economic, political and ethical matters, have become questions of profound concern to thoughtful citizens. In all of them we feel the growing insufficiency of guidance by tradition or au- thority, and a growing need of intellectual control. Ulti- mately this control can be secured only by the most thor- oughly scientific study of the nature and particular insti- tutions of society. Present iniquitous conditions are largely the result of ignorance, hence reform must come by en- lightenment. The tremendous extension of college educa- tion suggests the relation of the college curriculum to the mind in another which is different in character. The scientist may be full of sheer prejudice in politics or rehgion. Several distinguished men of science have succumbed to the deceptions of crude spiritualism, and the pronunciamentos of others on philosophical and psychological matters with which they are not technically acquainted are sometimes remarkably absurd. On the other hand, in so far as problems of physical nature are concerned, scientific ability may be carried over into neighboring fields. THE COLLEGE CURRICULUM 65 problem. The thousands of graduates who annually go forth from college halls ought to be nearest to the solu- tion. Some become leaders, and all should be supporters of social progress. It is the function of the social sciences to enable us to take our part with a sound grasp of the laws of human nature and an intelligent view of the ideals of human society. Appreciative Studies in the Curriculum History is the record of human interests and achieve- ments, the dramatic and the commonplace deeds and de- sires that have made up human life. Those who study it not as a mere chronology of facts, but as the evolu- tion of great ideas and pervasive feelings, find it to be a most illuminating story of humanity. The aspirations, the conflicts, the loves and hatreds, the successes and fail- ures of the past are substantially like our own. Grecian culture, Roman conquest and decay, medieval statecraft and ecclesiasticism, the drama of the French revolution, the constitutional development of England, the political and industrial history of our own country, all may live again in our minds, or rather we may pass imaginatively into those times as though we were actually a part of them, and emerge with a better comprehension of human nature. It is no less true that a historical perspective facilitates clear vision of contemporary affairs. Thus we understand trusts and labor unions more sympathetically and critically if we know how they originated and de- veloped; and we form our opinions about political parties more wisely after contemplating their behavior in the past. A historical point of view, indeed, is to-day a scholarly ne- cessity in all fields of study. For this reason the study of history possibly has a measure of disciplinary value in that it may inculcate skill in research, justice in com- paring and evaluating different opinions, and a grasp of cause and effect in human affairs. The great group of languages and literatures which constitute departmentally about a third of the college curriculum have a common purpose that is twofold: scholarly command of the language and appreciative ac- 66 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE quaintance with the literature. Let us note this more precisely with reference to its principal divisions. Our own language has extraordinary importance in that it is the instrument by which we pursue study in all de- partments. Moreover in all our social intercourse, in con- versation, in correspondence and in formal publication our use of English is an index of our education. The or- dinary lack of command of it affords more reason for re- quiring study and practice than exists in the case of any other subjects in the curriculum, though it must be ac- knowledged that the need is mainl}^ that of regular practice in oral speaking. We understand that training in writ- ing good English is needed for the sake of its use in other studies, but we sometimes fail to see that training in correct speaking is even more desirable for the same rea- son. Formal "elocution" — that noisy and childish rela- tive of higher education — should be replaced by reading aloud, and by practice in plain, simple oral address.* In- cidentally better writing will result. English literature is the great storehouse of the best ideas and sentiments of the race. Essay and drama, fic- tion and poetry, biography and travel are the written em- bodiment of men's experiences, yes, of men's souls. They touch all phases of nature and human life and may have profound influence upon the personality of the student. From them come wisdom, broad philosophical ideas, and refined mental recreation. Perhaps the strongest recom- mendation that can be made for gaining a scholarly ac- quaintance with English literature is that it is the founda- tion of lifelong enjoyment; no other pursuit brings such unfailing resources for cultivation in later years. The least that may be expected as a result is a permanent su- periority to the cheap superficialities of the sensational press, the florid magazine, and the vapid brilliancy of many * But let us beware of the hypersensitiveness to errors of gram- mar and pronunciation which feels it a pious duty to set friends and relatives right in insignificant matters. One who is affected with such critical tension needs to be reminded that the content of speech is more important than is the form, that healthy ideas may lack trained expression, and that the most lovable quaUties of human nature bear no essential relation to rhetoric. THE COLLEGE CURRICULUM 67 a "best seller." Passing now to the field of foreign language, let us re- call the general purposes of study — command of the lan- guage and acquaintance with the literature. The value of the latter is clear. A friendship with the world's great classics in other tongues needs no elaborate recommenda- tion; it is well to gain this through the medium of Eng- lish if not in their original form. The elementary study of language, however, should precede the college course. The earlier years are more favorable for acquiring cor- rect pronunciation and for such memorizing as is neces- sary. Moreover, college study should be maturer in method and in ideas than is possible in the case of ele- mentary language. To spend a large amount of time upon the latter is to retard one's intellectual maturity. If, however, one finds it necessary to begin a foreign lan- guage in college it is reasonable to expect him to apply more advanced powers of study to it, and thereby to ac- complish the elementary work in a third to a half of the time taken in the secondary school.^ In the case of the ancient languages an especially acute problem presents itself. A preparatory knowledge of Greek is rare among students coming to college, and few acquire it after entering, hence there is danger of a com- plete loss of interest in Grecian culture as a part of the curriculum. This is unfortunate, for many roots of our own civilization are found in ancient Greece, and the achievements of this wonderful people in art and litera- " It is quite possible by earnest effort to acquire ability to read a foreign language within a year. The ordinary waste of time in obtaining only a smattering by toiling painfully through a few pages of simple French or German is a disgrace to higher educa- tion. Not infrequently it happens that after a year of instruc- tion the student has no oral command whatever, and is nearly helpless before a page of a foreign newspaper or an article in a scientific journal. He "passes" without any considerable fund of ideas or discipline of intelligence. Incidentally we may note that the fundamental lack is often that of ability to speak. Language is primarily a means of oral communication; the normal method of learning it is that of talking and hstening. A "read- ing knowledge" depends, to a much greater extent than is com- monly supposed, upon oral training. 68 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE ture are the best that the world has known. The only preventive of further disappearance seems to be the pre- sentation of Greek culture in English. This has already been done with regard to Hebrew. The language has long since been abandoned as a college pursuit, but the study of the Bible and of the development of the Hebrew peo- ple increases in extent and in seriousness. Possibly the Greek classics, Homer and Sophocles and Demosthenes, for example, can be presented successfully in the same way, even though they cannot be compressed into a single volume and clothed with the sanctity of religion. Cer- tainly it is important that the study of this historic period of civilization should not disappear from the curriculum. Much the same considerations apply to Roman culture. The deeds and thoughts, the stern prose and the poetic feeling of Caesar, Virgil, Cicero, and Horace are decidedly worth our acquaintance. They may be adequately pre- sented in translation, and the relief from the slow and imperfect efforts of the inept translator will give time for broader and more valuable study of the Roman people. In the case of Latin, however, good reasons for studying the language are found in its relation to modern languages, particularly our own. Latin grammar reveals the struc- tural principles of language; and root words, through their innumerable derivatives, enlarge one's vocabulary and ren- der it more precise. The student of the "Romance" lan- guages invariably finds Latin of great assistance, and there can be no doubt that it has formed a basis for many a notable literary "style." As a disciplinary study, apart from the relations just indicated, its value is largely fic- titious; like mathematics it fails to afford discipline ex- cept to those who do not need it. Latin, or speaking more broadly, Roman civilization, is quite dignified enough to deserve study for its own sake. Perhaps classes will have fewer students, but their intelligent appreciation will com- pensate for loss of numbers. Finally, the college curriculum includes studies which deal with the nature of the universe as a whole, and with the human self in relation to it. This is the field of philosophy. Idealism, materialism, agnosticism, evolution- THE COLLEGE CURRICULUM 69 ism are some of the more familiar terms indicating philo- sophic world views. Through its breadth of scope phi- losophy serves to show the relations of different fields of knowledge to one another, and to organize them into a unitary whole. Here also we find the exact study of mind, and the consideration of moral and religious interests. Col- lege students instinctively desire, as reflective mankind has always desired, to understand themselves and the world order around them. A thoughtful religious belief, sane, charitable toward differing opinion, and devoted to duty, may be regarded as one of the highest accomplishments of higher education. Such a belief it is the business of philosophy to cultivate. CHAPTER VII THE INDIVIDUAL PLAN OF STUDY Required Studies From the scores or even hundreds of courses consti- tuting the college curriculum the student takes a few, perhaps twenty or thirty at the most. He can undertake so little, and he must perforce leave so much untouched, that both he and the college authorities face the ques- tion. How may the selection best be made? To this ques- tion the general answer of American colleges is a combina- tion of certain required studies with others chosen by the student himself. The current controversy on the subject concerns the relative merits and the proper amounts of such prescribed and elective features. Let us see if we can resolve the jangling voices into harmony. The positive arguments for required studies are mainly two. In the first place it is held that there are certain subjects which are essential to a liberal education, sub- jects which it is the special business of the college to teach, and which the college graduate ought to understand. Secondly, the discipline of required study is regarded as valuable, both in the way of training the intellectual pow- ers, and in the formation of sturdy character by habits of attacking unpleasant tasks resolutely, and forcing one's way through drudgery with patience. According to this theory the student thus equipped with a broad range of information and with a disciplined will and intelligence goes forth into society an educated man or woman. These arguments are rejected by many as inconclusive. Just what are the essentials of a liberal education, they reply, it is impossible to say, since educational authorities differ in theory with regard to the relative value of dif- 70 THE INDIVIDUAL PLAN OF STUDY 71 ferent subjects, and college faculties vary widely in their practice of making requirements.^ In view of the vast extension of modern knowledge the studies which have tra- ditionally been prescribed seem now to have less impor- tance; it is absurd to suppose that mathematics, Latin and philosophy are more indispensable to education than eco- nomics, history, biology and other subjects. But as soon as we try to embrace all modern learning in a prescribed scheme, we find the task hopeless. Required study of the elementary matters would prevent advanced study, and the college would have to abandon nine tenths of its varied teaching. Moreover we must acknowledge that not all students need the same prescription. Natural aptitudes and deliberate purposes certainly deserve respect. One student will obtain from general reading what another should study in a more regular way. Differences of in- tellectual maturity likewise suggest appropriate differ- ences of treatment. And finally we must distinguish be- tween prescribing a study, for example English literature, and prescribing a particular course which happens to be given under that title. What atrocious pedagogy has some- times been forced upon helpless youth in the name of cul- ture! It is no great exaggeration to say that the internal conditions of a required course are usually so unfavorable that a majority of students emerge with no more com- mand of the subject than they might have obtained in a few hours of real study. Nor is the alleged disciplinary value acknowledged. The idea of general intellectual discipline, it is said, is so weakened by current criticism that we can hardly base a system of requirements upon it; there are no subjects ^ In the partly required, partly elective curricula, as found in colleges all over the country, striking differences appear. In a few instances English composition is the only requirement; in others considerably more than half the entire course is pre- scribed. The particular prescription varies, however, and in gen- eral fails to reveal clear principles. Often it is a compromise between deference to educational traditions and the demands of modern educational advances. For illustrations of such dis- crepancies see Foster, Administration of the College Curriculum, Ch. IX. 72 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE which train the memory or the reason for general appli- cation. And the discipline of the will, though quite pos- sible, may be obtained equally well in other subjects. As a matter of fact, prescribed courses do not produce satis- factory results in this respect; they are very frequently the accepted ground for shirking, subterfuge, and even dishonesty. On account of the unwieldy size of classes, the discouragement of overworked teachers, and the con- stant competition of more interesting matters, they tend to become futile, farcical, harmful. Thus the negative. Whatever the merits of this debate, the tendency of the times is clear. A particular course of study of the English language is usually prescribed, perhaps by reason of the universal use of English throughout the curriculum, and the ordinary lack of exact and fluent command of it. Apart from this, however, particular prescriptions are frustrated by difference of opinion as to what to pre- scribe, and in consequence are giving way to a more gen- eral requirement that the student shall gain acquaintance with a few broad fields of knowledge. Graduation is ac- cordingly conditioned upon the study of literature, nat- ural science, social science, and perhaps other subjects; but the precise direction and extent of study in each of these fields remains a matter of the student's choice. The Elective System The modern college curriculum is predominantly elec- tive.^ The principal reasons for this are the following: (1) The growth of the curriculum has made some kind of individual choice of its offerings necessary. There is an overwhelming number of subjects, all really worth studying; modern knowledge, especially in scientific form, has multiplied its riches tremendously, A single depart- ment may offer twenty to thirty courses — enough to oc- cupy the entire time of a student for five or six years. In many cases the total of possibilities afforded by the ^ In application the elective system is necessarily limited not only by conflicts of hours and other extraneous conditions, but also by the dependence of advanced courses upon earlier ones. The actual freedom of the student is less than is sometimes supposed. THE INDIVIDUAL PLAN OF STUDY 73 college amounts to a century or more of study at the usual rate of fifteen hours of class exercise per week. These subjects are for the most part so related to con- temporary life, directly or indirectly, that they are prop- erly m.atters of collegiate instruction. How is this in- struction possible except through the elective system? (2) The student knows best what, and with whom, he needs to study. If a course is really valuable he will gladly elect it if he can, for students keenly appreciate courses which are genuinely educative. Moreover, it is of great importance for one to have the opportunity to select his instructors, since the inspiration to real study often comes from the instructor's personality quite as much as from the contents of the course. (3) Most persons devote them- selves more earnestly and successfully to matters of their own choosing than to what is prescribed, partly because they have a conscious purpose in the former case which is likely to be lacking in the latter, partly because the pe- culiarly unpleasant atmosphere of compulsion produces an infection of resistance. Scholarly persistency and thor- oughness develop spontaneously from within; they can- not be forcibly impressed from without. (4) On all these grounds the elective system affords a training in free- dom, and this is an educational accomplishment of the highest importance. It is the business of the college to enable the individual to guide himself; he cannot achieve this except by actual practice. Of course the regime of freedom implies the possibility of mistake and abuse, but on the whole it justifies itself in its human products. On the other hand we find numerous antagonists of the elective systems urging these objections. (1) It is not a "system" at all. In application it lacks unity; it encourages the selection of subjects which are unrelated to one another or to any central purpose. The student registers for English Literature 4 because his adviser suggests it, avoids Chemistry 9 because it meets at four o'clock in the afternoon, gravitates toward History 13 be- cause of the instructor's propensity for telling stories, and in his senior year joins the goodly company in Art 1 for the sake of its cultural value and lack of hard work. He 74 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE finally graduates with a few scraps of information but without proficiency in anything or a broad knowledge of the main fields of study. (2) The elective system fosters "snap courses" and corresponding habits of negligence. The many loafers who look for lines of least resistance not only find them, but naturally communicate their atti- tude to other students, thereby lowering further the stand- ard of scholarship in particular courses and in the college at large. (3) Among seriously minded persons the elec- tive system makes for specialization and vocational tech- nique rather than for breadth. It permits one to ignore subjects which belong to liberal culture, while it encour- ages premature intensiveness. One selects what he thinks he needs in preparation for medicine or business and passes by whole fields of rich human interest without a glance; or perhaps he pursues some narrow path of scholarship year after year until he has taken eight or ten courses in chemistry but no literature, or has devoted himself so exclusively to philosophy or history that he has never even visited a scientific laboratory. Instructors, it is said, take advantage of the special interest of the few to present their subjects after the fashion of profound and recondite scholarship, not in a broadly educative way. Ac- cordingly the elective system points toward the graduate or professional school, not toward life. So runs the debate. In general, however, the elective system may be regarded as firmly established — mainly for the reason that it affords the only rational solution of the problem of opening the wide range of modern learning to the college student, and of meeting the variety of indi- vidual needs, purposes and abilities. Expansion of the cur- riculum has made the principle of free choice indispen- sable. Undoubtedly this principle has been abused, and possibly it needs to be limited by a few broad require- ments which will serve to prevent such abuse, but on the whole, like freedom in political life and in religion, it has justified itself. Particular choices could often be improved, but no set of particular requirements would improve the total working of the elective system. For the majority there is no surer guidance than their own deliberate re- THE INDIVIDUAL PLAN OF STUDY 75 flection.^ This is not to deny that a serious difficulty confronts the student in choosing his courses. The elective system presupposes that he knows what he needs, and whether a particular course will prove satisfactory; but unfor- tunately both conditions are sometimes lacking, and in consequence there are mistakes and waste of time, not to mention deliberate abuse of opportunities. How may these evils be avoided, and choice be made intelligent and fruitful .J* Right guidance is found in one's natural and acquired in- terests, in vocational purposes, in the stimulating influence of an instructor, in catalog statements about courses, in the counsel of an official or unofficial adviser, and most importantly in the reputation of a course among older stu- dents. Two things are requisite: the college must give all the information it can, and the student must confront the problem thoughtfully. In general these conditions are sufficient. If, nevertheless, some blunder along in a way- ward, pointless fashion, the fault is not that of the elec- tive system.* ^Much of the current criticism of the elective system is strangely superficial. It ignores the fact that the historical de- velopment of the curriculum has burst all restricting bounds. It calmly assumes that requirements work successfully, in de- fiance of the fact that required studies display most of the evils of electives in addition to some that are distinctly their own. It ignores the statistical inquiries which show that as a rule the student chooses his subjects with reasonable breadth and earnest purpose. It exhibits the chronic vice of criticism, exclusive atten- tion to exceptional cases. It overlooks the huge classes, the poor instruction, the lack of personal direction, the competing interests outside of study, and all the other causes of shirking and failure, and blames, not these external conditions or the administration which tolerates them, but the elective system. And in conclusion it is absurdly unable to say precisely what should replace this. * A very commendable practice is that of having instructors give general lectures about their respective fields. I recall one such series of addresses in which members of the faculty spoke helpfully concerning the problems of psychology, the relation of sociology to advancing civilization, the practical significance of the study of education, the peculiar interests of mathematics and zoology and philosophy and literature. In addition to the •76 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE As a matter of fact, students are fairly judicious. Ca- pricious election is relatively rare.^ The opportunities are clearly too important to be treated lightly; and ac- cordingly the majority survey the field deliberately, and proceed with reference to purposes which are on the whole wise. The principal mistakes are the failure to appreciate the value of a broad, well rounded education, and an in- difference to unfamiliar subjects. In some there is exces- sive specialization, in others an excessive scattering of energies in superficial excursions into many departments. For the avoidance of these errors, as we have said, gen- eral requirements are possibly needed. Breadth and Specialization Higher education ideally consists in an intelligent ac- quaintance with the various fields of modern culture, and a more thoroughly mastery of some one of them. These requisites are so important that many colleges make them conditions for graduation.® In any case the individual plan of study ought to include them, and by reason of the student's good sense it usually does. Let us consider them a little more fully. information, there was also the obvious advantage of making the acquaintance of the instructor. ^ Of 1,757 selections of courses in Harvard College, according to the report of an investigating committee, only one sixth proved wholly or partially unsatisfactory in the subsequent judgment of those who made the choices, and the cases of dissatisfaction were found mostly among the poor scholars. (Report of the Com- mittee on Improving Instruction in Harvard College. Birdseye, Individual Training in Our Colleges, p. 398.) ® In order to secure these conditions of breadth and intensive- ness, colleges formerly arranged various combinations of partic- ular subjects which they designated the "Classical Course," the "English Course," the "Scientific Course," and the like. In each of these, as the name indicates, a certain type of study interest was dominant, and there was also a prescribed variety. This form of "group system" was not successful. The rigidity of the groups had to give way to individual exceptions and accord- ingly their boundary lines were obliterated. A more effective method of regulation is that of the "major study," and the re- quired distribution of electives over several groups of depart- ments. THE INDIVIDUAL PLAN OF STUDY 77 The curriculum naturally falls into a few grand divi- sions, somewhat as we have indicated in the preceding chapter. Mathematics, natural science, social science, his- tory, literature and philosophy, these are the main intel- lectual interests of our civilization. Without some knowl- edge of them, education is not "liberal." Within each field one may choose at will physics or chemistry, economics or political science, one literature or another. Many fundamental ideas and methods of study may be obtained in one subordinate department as well as in another, and the student is sure to find pathways from his chosen field opening into adjacent ones. But every one should study some part of nature scientifically; every one should learn to look upon society as embodying great natural laws; every one should acquire a historical point of view and perspective; every one should cultivate an appreciation of good literature, with its burden of esthetic, philosophical, moral and religious treasures of the mind. These studies are not merely valuable in themselves; they are valuable as aids in other study. Thus history gives the student a broader view of literature, and philosophy reveals the sig- nificance of biological and sociological problems. For this reason it is worth while to carry concurrently courses which represent several different fields. A casual warning against "scattering" is appropriate, however. I remember earnest persons who tried to touch all fields, and hence elected so many elementary courses as to prevent advanced study in any subject. Here, they thought, was their last opportunity to "get a start"; with this they could go further at their leisure. But their motive, though intelligible, had only a specious worth. One does not need to undertake so many kinds of ele- mentary study. With well trained powers it is possible to master not only the elements of a subject but a good deal more in less time than that of a college course, — if, that is to say, one has time and interest for such study in later life. If not, the elementary study will prove to be of little value; most of its details and technique slip easily away from the mind unless followed up. It is better, therefore, to go more deeply into a few subjects. Their 78 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE conceptions and methods will enable us to enter new fields, either in the way of systematic study or in general read- ing. Breadth of vision, without superficiality, is thus a qual- ity of mind at which the user of the elective system should aim. But equally important is the intensive culti- vation of some one study interest, the concentration upon a "major study." This essentially implies a scholarly grasp of a subject, not only of its elements and leading ramifications, but of some advanced branch; in mathe- matics, for example, such advanced work would include certain extensions and applications of the calculus, in liter- ature a thorough study of one writer or of a particular period of literary development, in science the understand- ing or perhaps even the prosecution of some research, in philosophy a course in metaphysics, and so on. It may be confined to a single department, or range more widely over adjoining fields. In amount the major ordinarily varies from a third to a sixth of the entire course. The value of such intensive or concentrated study is proved by^ the common testimony of students that their major was the most satisfactory feature of their whole course. It prevented desultory scattering of interest and the dissipation of intellectual energy over a wide but shal- low extent of elementary studies; and it formed a kind of backbone for organic educational development. They dis- covered that other subjects really bore upon it, and that it in turn gave new meaning to them. It was like a tower from which they could survey the whole domain of human knowledge. Moreover it afforded training in thorough, masterful work. The subject itself might be useful — English to the journalist, philosophy to the clergyman, economics to the man of business, and any subject to the teacher — but quite as important was the method and habit of patient study. It is a striking fact that success in life comes for the most part to those who have distin- guished themselves in college by concentrated study in some chosen field. This was not always in the line of their later work; indeed there is ground for thinking that apart from a certain saving of time it does not make mucli THE INDIVIDUAL PLAN OF STUDY 79 difference what subject is chosen for a major. Men of diverse callings have concentrated their attention in col- lege upon the same subject, and conversely men of the same profession have specialized in fields as far apart as biology and Greek. The significant acquisition was the intensive method, the ability to investigate a matter, and the resulting consciousness of power. Undergraduate specialization involves a real danger, however. It is impossible to devote oneself thoroughly to anything without relatively neglecting other things; and such neglect, in the case of college study, may become al- together too complete. One tends to become oblivious to other responsibilities and justifies himself on the ground that his interest is in his major. He may even make his college course almost exclusively a study in one depart- ment, and graduate with immense ignorance of others. "^ We should remember that specialization as such produces only specialists, that breadth of interest and information is very desirable as a background of specialization, and that specialists of the first rank are usually men of such breadth. The college is the only institution of higher edu- cation which educates broadly. In a way this is its main purpose, which it fulfils both for the sake of breadth of mind and for the power which this adds to specialization. The importance and fascination of the major ought not to obscure this fact. ' The ideal of a liberal education constantly faces two main forms of hypertrophied specialization — social and athletic spe- cialization outside the curriculum, vocational specialization within. The latter includes the undergraduate specialization in problems of research conducted by enthusiastic instructors who are them- selves research specialists. Under the elective system the college does not force a liberal education upon the student; he must win it for himself. CHAPTER VIII GENERAL CONDITIONS OF STUDY Amount Critics of the college^ both without and within its walls, charge that there is altogether too little study in its daily life. On the other hand there are defenders who hold that college students study quite as much as is good for them; — most of the students themselves are probably of this mind ! Just what, rationally considered, is the proper amount of study ? College teachers have a common opinion that an hour of class work ought to require two hours of preparatory or supplementary study. This is regarded, of course, as a standard or good average. It is acknowledged that students vary in study power; one spends only half an hour on a task which occupies another two or three hours apparently without greater gain. But such individual dif- ferences, it is held, do not invalidate the above rule as the one to which in general the student should conform. If, as is usual, he takes courses amounting to fifteen hours a week, his total study time including class periods is forty- five hours, or an average of seven and a half hours a day for six days. The customary practice is scientific courses which involve laboratory work increases the time required. If Saturday is used partially or wholly for other purposes the deficiency must be made up on Sunday or the daily schedule lengtliened to nine or ten hours. ^ Stated in figures such an expectation may seem reason- able, and in fact it is m.et by occasional hard working ^Substantially this conchision is reached by Canfield (The Col- lege Student and his Problems, pp. 73, 74) and Adams (Making the Most of One's Mind, p. 40). 80 GENERAL CONDITIONS OF STUDY 81 persons who regularly devote ten hours a day to study. But such a diligent routine is rare. It is far indeed from being the usual practice of college students. Investiga- tion of the actual study habits shows conclusively that the amount of time spent on a course outside the classroom averages hardly more than the number of class hours. "Hour for hour" seems to be the general rule.^ Nor is it difficult to see why there is so little. There is commonly a lack of clear purpose in life, and conse- quently of a constant feeling that one must study in order to succeed. In addition, the complex character of college life with its incessant distractions, its diversified opportunities for physical and mental recreation, its lec- tures, social gatherings, musical and dramatic entertain- ments, and the like, militates strongly against high stand- ards of study. Furthermore the size of classes, the lec- ture method, the impossibility of conducting recitations or of reading hundreds of written pages, and the instructor's devotion to his own study interests, all tend to lessen the student's sense of responsibility. He acquires a com- fortable assurance that he does not really need to spend a great deal of time in preparation for classes. An occa- sional glance at a book and a few hours of cramming just before an examination serve the purpose of passing the course as well as a semester of steady labor. Faculty expectation and student performance are thus far apart. Is the discrepancy to be removed simply by requiring more study .^ Partly, no doubt. Precisely this is taking place in many colleges at the present time. Higher standards and improved methods are replacing those which have given cause for criticism, and the result is that the college is a more studious place than formerly. ^ Such was the result of an inquiry at Harvard College a few years ago, and there is no reason for supposing the condition to be extraordinary. (See Birdseye, Individual Training in Our Colleges, Appendix VIII.) The writer once secured from seventy students detailed statements of their actual study hours for a period of two weeks. They regarded themselves, and were re- garded by their instructors as exceptionally industrious, but their figures showed a general average only slightly in excess of the number of class hours. 82 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE The theoretical standard indicated above is not likely to be reached^ however. As a daily average it is probably excessive. Assuming that "study" means genuine intel- lectual effort^ we must acknowledge the fact that eight to ten hours of it are so taxing and wearing as to be dangerous to health. In particular, the strain upon the eyes, the attention, and the associative mechanism of the brain is likely to produce nervous instability. Most stu- dents naturally obey their health instincts in this matter and stop before the point of mental overwork is reached, but the cases of nervous breakdown, though infrequent, nevertheless constitute a warning of what would happen more often if the theory in question were actually prac- ticed. Furthermore, the theory is incompatible with the interest of the college in other matters than courses of study. Not only athletics, but also literary and debating societies, dra- matics, musical clubs and many similar organizations would languish. Some critics will say of course that this is de- voutly to be wished, but most of us would regard the demise of these interests as unfortunate. Obviously, too, the possibility of outside work, upon which a large per- centage of students depends in some measure for support, would be seriously curtailed. Undoubtedly college students ought to study more than they do, but the main defect is in quality rather than in quantity. The need is not so much for more hours of study as for better mental habits, for trained minds which can attack a study task skillfully, proceed through it with a minimum of wasted time and effort, and then turn to something else. With such ability six to eight hours of study should be sufficient. Let us observe, however, that this point of view sig- nifies real intellectual concentration. In the classroom it means persistent attention to the subject of the hour, steady note-taking or thought and discussion — not mere superficial listening to a lecture or mind-wandering in pas- sive resignation to a tedious lapse of time. In private study it likewise means concentration upon book or essay or apparatus — not dawdling over these, or gazing out of GENERAL CONDITIONS OF STUDY 83 the window, or sitting with three friends at a table and alternating short periods of half attentive reading with animated conversation about current athletic and social affairs. The hardest thing for many of us to do is to stick patiently to an intellectual task. On the other hand study does not mean pegging away, dully and hopelessly, when the tired brain refuses to work. That is the time for rest — a few minutes intermission, an hour of physical exercise, an evening at the theater or a sound night's sleep. An extension of our problem presents itself with regard to the distribution of our time among our studies. Do they deserve equal periods, or is it better to devote a dis- proportionate amount to one, even though this involves relative neglect of others? In my opinion the latter alter- native is the wiser, provided of course that we do not neglect any subject to the point of failure. Concentration of energy is so important as a matter of training, skill in intensive study is so indispensable to the professional worker, that we ought to make it our first rule to do some- thing thoroughly — to do it just as well as we can. Select- ing that subject which is most interesting, or prospectively most profitable, or it may be most difficult for us, we should proceed to master it. If our natural gifts are such as to bring A's in all subjects, so much the better; in any case let us try to do A grade work in something. The second rule is of course to work hard enough in every subject to derive some real advantage from it. We must not leave this topic without reminding ourselves of the warning fact that for many walks of life to which college education leads it is no longer the royal road. Not only the technical and professional schools which do not require collegiate preparation, but also a tremendous growth of evening and correspondence schools have brought into the field of competition thousands of earnest students many of whom are daily adding to the labor by which they earn their bread several hours of successful study. Some, indeed, are spending more time in study than the average college student, and against heavy odds are advancing themselves in a way which puts the college loafer to 84 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE shame. The hard headed, unsentimental world, which does not respect a college education except upon grounds of efficiency, is likely to pay little attention to the varnish of culture and much to the solid substance of trained ability.^ Regularity One of the busiest students I have known — and one of the happiest — had a daily schedule almost as precise as that of a railroad train. Occasionally she found herself compelled to divide a part of her time into fifteen minute periods, each of which had its particular occupation. Work and play, classes, chapel, committee meetings, secre- tarial duties, fun and frolic flowed by in a steady stream. The amount of work she accomplished was no less remark- able than her capacity for recreation; she was an extraor- dinary illustration of the value of a well regulated life. Regularity is important for several reasons — in the first place because it enables us to do a great deal more than we otherwise would. A multitude of things to do is likely to result in nothing done. We contemplate them in dis- tress or pass from one to another in futile effort to take hold anywhere. Whatever is distasteful in tasks appears much more forbidding if there is no compelling now to force a beginning. We worry over the fact that we are not doing anything, and thereby make it all the harder to begin, for worry is misdirected attention and wasted energy. We tire out the will by spasmodic attempts to make up our mind to do something, just as we exhaust ourselves physically by misapplied muscular strain. Routine, on the other hand, is economy of intellectual and volitional effort. A definite hour for a task helps to make it possible, and the irksomeness of beginning drudgery quickly yields to methodical attack. Having overcome our initial inertia by force of habit we accomplish more, suffer less nervous wear and tear, have more time for play, and increase our general happiness. ^ For facts concerning the development of correspondence schools see Birdseye, Individual Training in Our Colleges, Ch. XXI. GENERAL CONDITIONS OF STUDY 85 How indispensable the principle of regularity is in the industrial world every one knows. There, indeed, most tasks are made matters of routine to the point of extreme monotony. One great danger incidental to the development of industry is that its processes shall be so subdivided and drearily repeated that the worker becomes a mere machine. There is no danger of this extreme in college life, however ; here matters are so varied and elastic that irregularity is almost inevitable, and the main difficulty is that of estab- lishing any definite schedule at all.^ But routine is not an agreeable thought to our unreflec- tive selves; we are likely to prefer a more spontaneous method of procedure. It is true, too, that in some fields we find great works accomplished by fits of inspiration and bursts of energy. This is the irregular practice of genius — Wait for the right moment and then work! — and it is dramatically fascinating. But its feasibility is largely confined to the field of art, and even here it is not the whole story. The general rule for the student is of a different sort. Our efficiency depends upon making out a schedule and sticking to it as closely as possible, certainly not in postponing duties until the eleventh hour. The kind of inspiration which comes on the night before a thesis is due not likely to be so valuable as the ideas we form when we undertake it in a more deliberate way. I know that in my own case the days in which I accomplish most are those in which I work according to schedule, and that they are also the most satisfactory days. Is it not a fact, too, that the graduates of technical and professional schools owe their superior efficiency in part to methodical habits of work, habits imposed upon themselves under penalty of failure? But our difficulty may be, not a lack of appreciation of the value of regularity, but skill in establishing it in our lives. We know that we do not have too much to do, if we could only hit upon a working method. But our efforts have not been crowned with success. Perhaps we are not naturally inclined to work in such a fashion, and * "Routine," says Philhps Brooks, "is a terrible master, but she is a servant whom we can hardly do without." 86 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE it is easily possible to experiment in a way that is fore- doomed to failure. Accordingly one who is trying to regulate his time more efficiently does well to bear certain principles in mind. The fundamental requisite is that we should definitely set hours for the most necessary or important matters, let us say three or four main periods of study and recrea- tion in addition to appointed classes. As a general rule about three hours in the morning and shorter periods in the afternoon and evening ought to be expressly devoted to study and class work. Many of us find the morning hours more favorable to certain kinds of study, whereas if we postpone such tasks they take much longer. It is of course especially wise not to defer all study until the evening. When mental weariness increases or gaiety beckons, hope looms large that shrewdness or luck may avoid disaster next day, and the end is that one says "Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof," and goes to bed. It is astonishing, too, how much we can accomplish by takings things in time and under the most propitious conditions. They "get done" with automatic regularity, leaving plenty of opportunity for recreation. Hence the best plan is to make a schedule, perhaps for a single day at a time, comprising a few principal features, and stick to it unless something really important intervenes. A common experience is that of formulating an exact schedule for a whole day from rising to bedtime, and learning speedily that human affairs cannot proceed with such precision. A particular task obstinately stretches itself over time which does not belong to it, an unexpected matter claims our attention, street cars are late, or what not, and the whole system goes awry. Routine appears impossible, and we fall back into our old ways. Hence it is wise to provide for contingencies by simply laying out the main divisions of our time in accordance with our most important duties, thereby leaving "margins" for unavoidable delays. Little and relatively unimportant things must fit in where they can. It is especially unwise to try to do the little things first; they use up so much energy that the bigger ones are likely to remain undone. GENERAL CONDITIONS OF STUDY 87 Resoluteness is at least as important a factor of success as is skill in arrangement. Wherever one spends his study hours, at home or in a dormitory or elsewhere, there are sure to be interruptions, interferences and distractions. One must accustom himself to working steadily in spite of these; and particularly one must learn to withstand the temptation to indulge at all times in conversational good fellowship — the friendly loafing which is distinctly worth while, but not in study hours. Regularity often requires sheer will power. Periods of study, set and supervised by school authorities, do not exist in college, and it is better that they should not. The problem is essentially one for the student to solve for himself. Fraternities and dormi- tory groups may lessen the difficulty by establishing house rules, so that intruders may be firmly repelled or dispas- sionately thrown out, but generally speaking the individual must make his own rules, and insist upon observance. The ability to stick to one's schedule is a test of strong char- acter. Any schedule must be more or less elastic, however. Interferences will occur, and no matter how methodical we try to be, we shall find ourselves obliged to make occasional exceptions. Skill in doing this without abandoning the main lines of our purpose or breaking up regular habits is a part of the task. Nevertheless we may learn to fit our affairs into an orderly sequence when all the forces of college life seem to conspire for its disruption. Freedom This aspect of college study deserves special notice. The college atmosphere is or should be an atmosphere of "freedom." What does this mean.^ It means in the first place freedom from constant supervision, from minute rules and regulations; it means the opportunity to study or not to study, as one pleases. A watchful regime, as we have seen, characterized the early colleges, and is still the practice of lower schools, though secondary schools have modified it extensively. The modern college has outgrown it. In higher education it goes without saying that no one keeps close watch of 88 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE the student's daily work or habits of study; instructors are sometimes indifferent, indeed, whether the student studies regularly or not — if he does he passes, if he doesn't he fails. In any case the responsibility rests with the student rather than with the teacher. But this points to an obvious danger, for freedom essen- tially implies that one may go wrong as well as right. It is possible not only to do a great deal of shirking, but also to conceal this adroitly, and with a little superficial polish to pass examinations. No one seems to care to make us study, every college has "snap courses," and perhaps our good intentions are discouraged by unhelpful teaching. We find that we can drift along through the four years and even graduate without having developed habits of hard work. Meanwhile other matters are more attractive. But during the senior year if not earlier the matter is likely to present itself in a different light; an inevitable alterna- tive of work or worthlessness appears, and we realize that freedom means something more than the absence of rules and compulsion. Freedom means legislation for oneself — the deliberate determination upon our own ideals, and the persistent, regulated effort to realize these. Just so a free country is not one without laws, but one which makes its own laws and obeys them. This positive kind of freedom is fundamental in all healthy college life. The value of the elective system and of various other features of college education is that they help to develop habitual obedience to an ideal rather than to an external authority; that they teach one to impose rules upon himself instead of being pushed and pulled along by force. This freedom, as we have seen, involves the possibility of abuse, and sometimes brings failure as well as success; but our faith is that it brings more success than failure, and that it is an indis- pensable condition of individual upbuilding and of social progress. Current criticism of the new order and advocacy of the old fashioned disciplinary regime often fail to take account of this aspect of the matter. That is why we cannot accept such criticism, but prefer freedom, even with its excesses and failures^ to the older practice. Only GENERAL CONDITIONS OF STUDY 89 let us not lose sight of the fact that freedom, in order to justify itself, must be, not freedom from law, but free- dom through self imposed law. An especially good opportunity for the exercise of such freedom may be found in courses which leave the student largely to his own devices, and more particularly in those which are burdened with an uninteresting method. Instead of taking advantage of conditions to abandon the course or to shirk one's way through it, suppose one asks, "What law can I reasonably impose upon myself for my own education in this matter.'* Disregarding the instructor and his method, can I, alone or with others, make this subject worth while by systematic regulating my own efforts?" — I have known students to undertake this mastery of unfav- orable conditions successfully; and I hardly need add that they changed disgust and worry into tolerance and the joy of accomplishment. Such independence is true free- dom. There was, in my own college experience, a certain course of study which for futility of method has probably seldom been surpassed in the history of American higher educa- tion. Most of us got through it by hook or crook, prac- tices which did us no good whatever and which were partially dishonest. The general conditions of freedom made it easy to slip by, and we justified ourselves by various sophistries. I recall, however, that one of us pro- ceeded in an independent, good humored way to make the course one of real study. He shaped his own ideal, and at the end of the year emerged with a grasp of the subject which the rest of us lacked, and which I for one still desire. We may refer here to a psychological law. Professional habits — and this includes the habit of independent, sys- tematic, concentrated work — are incipiently formed in the years from eighteen to twenty-five; the process of forma- tion is practically over by the age of thirty. Evidently, then, the period of college education is important in this respect. While it is possible under inexorable conditions to form such habits after graduation, and while college graduates are sometimes compelled to do this, the adjust- 90 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE meiit is difficult for one who has not already laid the foundation. Professional habits are much less likely to be fixed in straight, clean grooves if the college course has run in a wayward, slipshod manner, greased by good nature rather than energized by will and guided by intelli- gence. The counterpart of the ''survival of the fittest" — that law of nature which none of us can evade — is the fail- ure and perhaps degradation of the unfit. For this reason the particular subjects we study in college are relatively unimportant, as such, in comparison with the development of freedom in the sense of self reliance and an intelligent method which we can apply to the affairs of later life. CHAPTER IX ELEMENTARY FACTORS OF STUDY Interest Study depends upon interest; — realization of this fact is one of the basic features of modern educational theory. We study a subject because we are impelled by a curious feeling that M^e want to know more about it. Sometimes the subject is "naturally" interesting to us; sometimes it would be dull if we did not see that it leads to something valuable, in which case it has a "derived" interest. Many of us, for example, found tennis so naturally interesting that we studiously tried to perfect ourselves in playing it, whereas we took an interest in a railroad advertisement only because we were planning a vacation trip. Generally speaking we all are naturally interested in other people, especially those with whom we are closely associated; we are interested in living nature — animals, flowers, trees; we are interested in what we can do, particularly what we can do with skill or power, and consequently in our voca- tion. And from these interests a multitude of others are derived. In the earlier years of childhood study is for the most part a matter of obedience to the teacher, of fear of punishment or desire for reward, rather than a matter of intellectual interest. In the kindergarten the natural play interest is turned to account in developing study habits. As the pupil advances new natural interests appear, and derived interests likewise increase. A few individuals display a natural intellectual curiosity which applies to all subjects, but most are in need of some other motive, and if they do not find one report their studies as "unin- teresting." The tremendous growth of high schools has 91 92 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE intensified the problem of what the pupil at this stage really wants and needs to study. The most conspicuous tendency at the present time is that of inducing interest by relating studies to the conditions of actual life, and particularly by introducing "vocational" studies into the curriculum. In college study we observe the working of the same principles: natural and derived interests are the motive forces. Most students are provided with natural study interests of some sort; those who lack these ought not to be in college. Such interests may be latent or undiscovered, but under appropriate conditions they come to light, as when a lecture, a visit to a laboratory, or a casual con- versation with a friend reveals the desirability of history or physics or sociology. We ought indeed occasionally to attend classes in untouched subjects in order to give these sparks of natural interest an opportunity to flame up. Appreciative interests, dealing directly with "real life" are all but universal; hence the large classes in government and biology. The purely intellectual interest of science is less common. Apparently it does not arise until relatively late, and if prematurely forced upon the student it takes the form of irksome drudgery, the perfunctory perform- ance of experiments or learning of facts about which he cares not a whit. Many of our studies are sure to be due to some derived interest. A student with a distaste for mathematics recon- ciles himself to it because of its bearing upon engineering, which is his intended vocation. Another studies philosophy because it illuminates the problems of religion, and a third elects history or literature as a part of a "liberal educa- tion." But the derivation of an interest is not always so rational. Sometimes it is simply friendliness with another student or personal regard for a teacher which lures one into a particular path.^ Fortunately derived interests often gain the force of natural ones, as closer acquaintanceship reveals the truth and value of what is studied. ^ A frank acquaintance once confessed that he took up philos- ophy to escape appearing as an ignoramus when the dinner table conversation turned to philosophic subjects. ELEMENTARY FACTORS OF STUDY 93 Interest must occasionally be reenforced by discipline, however, and in college this discipline must be for the most part self imposed. No matter how much we may like a subject, there will inevitably come moments when it seems lifeless or futile, and when we are tempted to desert it in favor of something else. There is a certain type of student — if indeed he deserves the name — who feels a spasmodic interest in this or that pursuit, but who lacks sufficient force of character, when he encounters its dull details, to drive himself through them. So he scatters his energies, ever turning from a disagreeable path to a new one, and, as the record books clearly show, doing poorly in all. When the subject matter of study becomes monotonous there is no salvation except in the disciplined will. We must "take an interest" by sheer effort, setting ourselves to work resolutely upon the task that we know needs to be done. The bearing of this truth upon required courses is clear. Because the factor of spontaneous natural interest is originally lacking they have a fatal tendency to become uninteresting, and we can overcome their irksome- ness only by deliberately interesting ourselves in them. Attention Attention makes an object clear by excluding other things from view, and, so to speak, letting all the light of intelligence shine upon a particular point. Sometimes it is "sensory," sometimes "intellectual." The former is attention which is directed to sounds, colors, tastes, pres- sure, pain, and to objects which are made up of such "sense stimuli." Intellectual attention is concentration upon memories, anticipations, hopes, fears, fancies and abstract ideas. The two kinds of attention may be blended, as in ordinary reading, when we look at the print but constantly think of its meaning. Attention is also "voluntary" or "involuntary." It is involuntary when a sight or sound compels us to look or listen, or when a thrilling story carries us from page to page. Voluntary attention is an effort of the will. Chil- dren show little of it; their attention flies spontaneously from one thing to another, successfully claimed by every 94 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE new object or occurrence. Education of course gives train- ing in this respect. Year by year the pupil learns to put his mind more fully at work upon a task^ in disregard of the distractions which formerly interfered so easily. Intel- lectual maturity is characterized by its power of sustained voluntary attention. In business or public affairs the persons who daily accomplish many things do so by their trained power of attending steadily to one at a time. Study attention in college is evidently of a voluntary- intellectual sort. As students we attend to ideas, and only incidentally or instrumentally to sense objects. This is true even in the laboratory where concrete facts reveal to the observer the larger truth which we call natural law. Dominant study interests have reference to principles and theories, to the past and future, to values which are not immediately present to the senses. This abstractness and distance of our objects implies that our attention must be resolutely maintained by will. Desirable as it is to undertake our work in the spirit of play, of freedom, of artistic pleasure, and to be absorbed in it through interest, we have to acknowledge that neither college study nor life in general permits such exercise without eifort. Grit is an essential requisite of study, and "attention to business" depends upon self control. It would be well if college entrance requirements included an unmistakable test of ability to sustain intellectual attention by voluntary effort. The average college class, especially a class of freshmen, displays a conspicuous lack of trained attentive power. If someone opens a window half the eyes in the room turn to watch the operation, even though it is perfectly familiar and unimportant. If two or three good friends are gath- ered about a library table it is highly probable that, in spite of the book before each, a considerable part of the time will be spent in casual conversation. It is almost impossible for some persons to study by an open window without letting their attention drift repeatedly to what is going on outside — to the sound of a voice, the passing of a carriage, the caller at the house across the street. Move- ments and sounds, especially those which have human ELEMENTARY FACTORS OF STUDY 95 significance, naturally interest us, and we are likely to waste a good deal of time upon them unless we make ourselves oblivious to them by voluntary effort. This does not of course imply that attention should be absolutely unbroken. The strain upon the little muscles of the eye which focus our vision upon the print, and upon the machinery of the mind, should be relieved from time to time by moments of rest in which we turn from the matter in hand to something else. But these lapses should be under regular control. As students we ought to be able to hold our attention to a lecture or recitation for an hour, to stick to a theme or a problem or a solid chapter of a book for a couple of hours, pausing now and then for a bit of mental rest, but resolutely proceeding to the end. The problem of the proper amount of study is greatly simplified for one who can concentrate his mind upon his work. He finishes this and has plenty of time for other matters. The conditions favorable to persistent attention are quiet, fresh air and an unfatigued mind. Quiet is not indis- pensably necessary; we may become indifferent to noise, particularly if it is monotonous. A linotype operator work- ing in the pandemonium of a newspaper composing room or an accountant making calculations within a few feet of the rattle and bang of a city street show what can be achieved in this respect. Under the best conditions we have to cultivate a disregard of noise. Yet quiet is none the less desirable, and dormitories frequently need regulations to protect the studious from disturbance. Fresh air is requisite for properly oxygenating the blood, and particularly for maintaining the temperature at which this most easily takes place. A hot, close room is unfavorable to intellectual work. Freshness of mind is also important. Probably every one has had the experience of wearily reading a sentence over and over without being able to grasp its meaning, because the mind was too tired to make the necessary connections between words and phrases. Mental fatigue accompanies physical fatigue, hence the practice of postponing study until late hours is evidently foolish. Weariness makes the interference of passive 96 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE imagination more insidious. The explanation of many a failure is that the unfortunate could hardly help thinking about the next game, or a girl, or a fraternity exploit, when other matters deserved attention. Indifference to imaginative distraction is quite as hard to practice as disregard of sensory disturbance, but we may learn to check incipient wanderings of eye or mind. Memory The ability to recall facts varies greatly. Some persons have "sticky" memories which catch and hold whatever touches the mind. They possess large vocabularies in several languages; on occasion they can instantly state chemical formulae, historical dates and masses of other fact. Once in a while a student appears to have all the material of a course at his or her fingers' ends during examination. Authentic cases are on record of persons who could repeat verbatim the contents of a daily paper after a single reading, and of clerks who could give the price of wheat or cotton in any month for many years. Before the invention of writing, and particularly before that of printing, it was necessary to make the memory a capacious storehouse of fact and fancy. There was little or no accumulation of scientific truth, but much history and poetry were passed along from generation to genera- tion by word of mouth. The bard might compass Homeric poetry, and pious men carried in their minds many a sacred book of song and legend and chronicle before these were committed to writing. Such a power is a natural endowment, possessed by few. This "native retentiveness," in the opinion of psycholo- gists, is practically unchangeable; in other words no gen- eral improvement of it is possible. Committing masses of poetry to memory does not help in this respect, and the sheer memorizing of isolated dates or of words in foreign languages does not greatly facilitate further acquisition. All that one can do to "improve the memory" is to develop a sound method of grasping a fact; the holding of it, once grasped, is beyond his control. ELEMENTARY FACTORS OF STUDY 97 Such a sound method of memorizing is, however, at least equally important. It consists, in the first place, of careful attention, especially if the observation is repeated and if it makes use of both eye and ear. Thus the repeated sound of a word or date or algebraic formula cooperates with observation of its visual form. Second, the fact to be remembered should be related to something already fixed in the mind. If we grasp things in their relationships, associate dates with other dates, compare or contrast the views of different men, note the derivation of several words from a single root or the resemblance of a foreign idiom to one in our own tongue, we are more likely to give these matters a peri.ianent home in the mind.^ Third, it is helpful to speak or write what we wish to retain, for we make truth our own by actual expression quite as much as by passive reception. Thus we learn declensions and conjugations by saying them over and over, and master the scientific names of wild flowers by classifying them, to our long suffering friends, in our walks afield. Most of what we study we shall not remember — this is inevitable; and hence it is the most significant to load our mental repository with what is likely to be most needful. Into it should go the frequently useful and the fundamen- tally important things — the root and common words of a vocabulary, the basic rules of grammar, the chief dates of history, authoritative opinions of leading scholars, struc- tural ideas and striking illustrations of general laws. It is happily true that if we grasp fundamental principles the multitude of particular facts will take care of them- selves, either clinging like burs to the fabric of our con- ceptions, or else dropping away to make room for something more valuable. Once we clearly comprehend a dominating idea, such as romanticism in literature, or idealism in philosophy, or the historical conflict between church and state, we find it naturally carrying with it a sufficient amount of explanatory detail. The mass of what passes before us will be forgotten, and it is well that it should 2 This is the principle of the "memory system," though tliis, as a rule, does little but impose upon the mind the additional burden of remembering the system. 98 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE be, provided it has served its purpose of making clear the things which we need to remember^ and of developing power of thought. A "sticky" memory is therefore not indispensable; real scholarship can work without it. Libraries, encyclopedias and other books of reference are most efficient substitutes; and skillful observation and accurate reasoning are far more imjDortant. A college is a place, indeed, where one may learn to use the higher powers of the mind, and to depend less upon mere retentiveness. These considerations evidently apply to the subject of examinations. In so far as these depend upon memory the only effective preparation for them is that of attentive study, frequent reviews, recitation and thoughtful discus- sion. One may, it is true, spend a few hours in "cram- ming" into his head certain features of a subject, shrewdly selected by himself or by a professional tutor, and may thereby enable himself to answer the few questions which he finds on the examination paper. But because he has studied superficially, and has grasped facts in a sporadic rather than a systematically related way, his memory is likely to desert him; furthermore he has acquired no ability to deal with a problem which requires independent thinking, and if confronted with one he is helpless. In any case the hastily swallowed truth will not be mentally digested, and in consequence will not be long retained in the mind. On the other hand the knowledge and the power gained by deliberate, systematic study are lifelong possessions. CHAPTER X THOUGHT FACTORS OF STUDY Advanced Study Involves Thinking In the lower schools the pupil does little independent thinking; his study is more largely a process of learning what has been thought by some one else, or of doing things according to prescribed directions. Facts are to be memorized, rules are to be applied, and these facts, rules and applications, whether in arithmetic or language, are stated so definitely that they leave no great opportunity for thinking the matter out for oneself, even if this were possible. In the secondary school the algebra, French, history and elementary science are usually presented in precise, textbook form, somewhat *'predigested," indeed, in order to bring them within range of the student's compre- hension. The experiments performed in the laboratory are often little more than the blind following of directions; the experimenter does not know why he does thus and so. Where fresh analysis is required, as in the "originals" of geometry, the critical examination of an argument, the detection of the meaning of one Latin word from its resem- blance to another, the unaided perception of what takes place in the growth of a plant or the explanation of the failure of an experiment, there is commonly little skill. Authoritative facts and rules are the pedagogical burden of childhood and youth. In so far as secondary school subjects and methods are continued in college the student who has mastered the elements and routine processes marches along successfully. Sooner or later, however, he fiinds that higher education involves subjects in which textbook material is unavailable or inadequate. The facts of economics and history and 100 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE biology are perhaps buried in heavy volumes in the library, or poured out in lectures, or hidden away in the baffling confusion of nature herself. Study then consists of for- mulating a problem, disengaging the relative facts, and drawing conclusions. The student has to determine his purposes for himself, analyze what he reads or observes, and put his material together in clear and systematic form. Unless he can do this his report of the behavior of an organism, or of the working of the initiative and referendum, will not amount to much. Of course the simpler methods of earlier education, the learning and the mechanical application of rules, continue to be more or less useful, but the faculty of thinking is especially in demand. Studies which are direct continuations of secon- dary school subjects, such as mathematics and foreign language, introduce an increasing amount of thoughtful effort. In short, intellectual maturity is essentially a power of thinking.^ Here is a point at which critics of the college aim their shafts. Society, thej say, needs thinkers ; and the college should provide these. Its training should enable the student to solve the problems, political, economic, moral, religious, which society constantly faces. But this ability depends upon scholarly thoughtfulness — and college stu- dents do not think! The accusation, though critically exaggerated, is not without a modicum of truih. There is indeed too little thinking about college studies. The difficulty is not that ^ We have here an explanation of an interesting ' college phenomenon. Though in general the student's grade of scholar- ship in his preparatory school indicates what he v/ill do in col- lege, this is not always the case. Some with excellent creden- tials do poorly in new subjects; their transition from familiar mathematics and language to economics and psychology is ac- companied by a slump. On the other hand, a mediocre student occasional^ develops astonishing power upon entering a new field, and perhaps graduates as the leading biologist of his class. The reason is found in the method of advanced study and in the student's native interests and latent capabilities of "independent thinking. There is hope for the incompetent in mathematics and language; he may possess rare powers of scientific or historical investigation. THOUGHT FACTORS OF STUDY 101 students cannot or do not think; — they give plenty of earnest thought to other matters. But as regards the curriculum too many are content to conform to minimum requirements, reading, writing and reciting in a mechanical, routine fashion, without making study a vital interest. Too few formulate for themselves the problems which constitute their courses of study and which are the living forces of higher education; too few look upon these problems, or upon the learning of the past which bears upon them, as a really important matter. The result is that many a college graduate has only a superficial understanding of contemporary life, even though he has "passed" in numer- ous courses dealing with life's varied concerns. No doubt there is much intellectual development apart from the cur- riculum, as well as much real scholarship within it; but on the whole the college does not compare favorably with the technical and professional school in respect to the amount of thoughtful attention given to subjects of study. The instructor who observes this lack of thoughtfulness feels inclined to parallel the injunction of the apostle to the Philippians, and say: Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are important, if there be any science, literature and philosophy, and any virtue in the pursuit of them, think on these things ! Thinking is so complex and varied an art that exact rules for it cannot be given. Like walking it is learned by actually doing it. Nevertheless we may be helped by considering some of the principal features of the process as they appear in ordinary study. The first, of course, is Purposiveness The more definite our aim, the more skillfully and powerfully do we work. We recognize this principle in our expectation that the student shall come to college with a purpose, and our contempt for those who drift along from year to year with no other goal than graduation. We expect also that reasonable purposes shall guide in the selection of courses. It is not so clearly seen, however, that the same principle applies to details of study — ^to 102 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE reading the successive chapters of a book, listening to the progress of a lecture, or writing paragraphs in orderly sequence. Too often we do not know precisely what a writer or speaker is driving at, and do not greatly care. Much of our so-called study is haphazard; it consists in advancing from point to point without definite intention. We merely read or listen, waiting for something forcible to strike us.^ In the world of affairs, needless to say, men have to be more pointedly studious in their work. The problems of business, of legislation, of disease, require definite attack. Successful reporters do not wander after news; physicians study symptoms with reference to special diagnoses; law- yers must substantiate particular points of argument; manufacturers study the market for single commodities. Science likewise is guided by particular purposes of inves- tigation. Everywhere the notable work of life is thought- fully aimed. A studious purpose is formed by thinking. It is not a heaven sent flash of inspiration, or a mechanical product of memory. It is the definite proposal of what one desires to do, the clear statement of what has been only a vague possibility. Such purposiveness is an art which depends upon training, upon practice. In college study, therefore, it is well to cultivate the habit of constantly keeping our aims in mind, noting the author's purpose and making it our own, grasping the lecturer's intention at the outset, and in our own speaking and writing deciding in advance what we want to say. Theses and examination papers would often be much more readable if the writer had done more clear thinking before beginning to write, and had taken the trouble to make a brief preparatory statement of the ^To illustrate this to a class I sometimes read aloud a para- graph from Bryce's chapter on American universities, with the request that the listeners note its expository purpose. But though the latter is expressed with sufficient clearness in the opening sentence, their statements differ widely a.nd are in some cases far from the point. They catch striking phrases or sentences, but not their significance. The difficulty is simply lack of skill in purposiveness hstening. THOUGHT FACTORS OF STUDY 103 principal things which he wished to say. They would be less voluminous^ perhaps, but much more scholarly. Purposiveness not only helps us and others to under- stand; it increases the interest and pleasure of study, and lessens the weariness of the mental drudgery which is indispensable to scholarship. Our purposes carry us along by their momentum, and give an agreeable feeling of command. Incidentally they make trouble for competitors. Successful scholars are characterized by intelligent per- tinacity in their aims ; their thoughtf ulness enables them to go directly to the mark, and on occasion to stick resolutely to a task when others become discouraged and abandon it. The intellectual labor of formulating a purpose clearly is no doubt hard— real thinking is the hardest kind of work — but in the long run it makes life easier and happier.^ Analysis and Note Taking A subject of study usually has certain features which are of central importance, and which must be grasped by "analysis." A discussion of income taxation, for example, or a lecture about heredity, or a chapter on Plato's ethical theory contains some fundamental points which are, so to speak, the skeleton of the matter, and which are padded with expository material. Upon these points the student has to fix particular attention. The process is especially indispensable in courses which consist largely of lectures and supplementary reading. There is such a mass of ' There is, unfortunately, a kind of purposive study which de- serves unquahfied condemnation. It is that of sheer partisan- ship, the looking for arguments on only one side of a question, or aiming to find support for prejudices. There is no sharp line between impartial investigation of the truth and partisan effort to establish opinion, and the history of science shows curious illustrations of scholarship gone askew in this way. A second qualification concerns the practice called "browsing," the relatively unpurposive tasting of a large variety of intel- lectual fodder. To one surrounded by libraries and reading rooms this is a constant temptation, and on the whole the prac- tice is in good repute. It brings varied information, leads to the cultivation of new interests, and helps to form a genial, many sided character. It is commendable as a supplement but not as a substitute for real study. 104 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE information, and it is so hopeless a task to try to retain it all, that we have to make our mental burden as valuable as possible by summarizing, abstracting, and digesting, in the form of notes. Similarly a complex problem must be broken up into its subordinate parts, and these dealt with separately, before a total solution can be reached. Scholar- ship thus necessarily involves the reduction of extensive subjects to small compass for convenience of handling. Hence the need of an "analytic mind." This ability is seldom a natural gift. Once in a while we find a student who naturally seizes upon the essential points of what he reads or hears and holds these for further use; but most of us muddle and flounder along in our study until we laboriously acquire the art. Though nature has provided us with the capability of developing it, we find that it comes mainly through patient cultivation. Text- books, in order to help the inept reader, often make use of italics, large type, marginal "side heads," and other devices to distinguish what is most significant; but in any case a good deal of analysis must be done by the reader, who digs out from a paragraph or page a single idea — its substantial thought. Lecturers likewise may present their subjects with analytic clearness — perhaps they ought to take special pains to do this — but none the less the student must learn to make his own analyses, and must learn to make them quickly and with precision. A profound difficulty confronts us, however. How to perceive what is important, how to distinguish between this and what is merely interesting or rhetorically striking, is an art for which no specific rules can be given. It requires a sense of "idea values." Fortunately almost every one possesses this sense in an elementary form, so that the problem becomes that of discovering how to develop it into expert skill. And here we may note two good prac- tical rules. The first is that as a preliminary step to analysis we do well to get a comprehensive view of the whole. A quick survey of a mathematical demonstration, a rapid reading of a chapter, a glance at the general course of an argument, facilitates the subsequent analytic THOUGHT FACTORS OF STUDY 105 examination. Such a "bird's-eye view" is inadequate in itself — too many students content themselves with this and no more! — but it is a genuine step in learning. The pre- liminary view of the whole helps to locate the details in their proper places. And the second rule is that we should ask ourselves at the conclusion of a chapter or in review of a lecture, What are the main ideas which the writer; or speaker, has expressed? What does his discussion amount to, "boiled down".^ To ask and answer such questions, to practice summarization of what we read or hear, is to gain analytic power. Much of our analysis takes the form of written notes. Some students, it is true, are disinclined to do this; they dislike the interruption to listening or reading, and think it wiser to pay continuous attention, trusting the unaided memory to retain the substance of what is said. In general this seems to me unwise. Probably most of us pay better attention when we compel ourselves to make written notes. It is difficult, too, by mere listening to fix new ideas in our minds so that we do not need the subsequent clarification which notes provide. I have more than once observed that those who dispensed with writing showed, under examina- tion, very inadequate command of the material which they supposed themselves to have grasped. Both the act of recording the notes and the use of them in review are essential to study. Note taking may be overdone, however. Some methodi- cal persons habitually carry notebooks or blank cards, and scarcely read anj^thing of a serious nature without jotting down its point. The result is a kind of reference library of notes, systematically filed, and occasionally very useful. Such patient labor is exceptional, and for the most part unnecessary. It is better to take few rather than many notes, and to use these few as pegs on which to hang our own further reflections. We learn most by thinking things over. At the same time the habit of recording an especially important thought, wherever we meet it, is well worth while.* * In reading books of our own we may underline important 106 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE Gradually the student gains the faculty of grasping a point instantly and firmly, then hastening along, even skip- ping with only a passing glance over much "connective tissue" until he strikes something vital again. The amount that trained readers compass in a single hour is astonishing. Their skill has reached such perfection that the eye auto- matically takes in a page, fixes upon its central thought, and swiftly passes on to the next. Editors and literary critics habitually read dozens of volumes and scores of current magazines in a small fraction of the time which we would require, yet thoroughly enough to extract their substance. The strange feature of the process is the dis- regard of unimportant matter without exactly looking to see whether it is unimportant. This is highly trained analytic attention. The student therefore needs to cultivate concurrently two kinds of analytic skill, that of reading a book, perhaps a textbook, closely, carefully, thoughtfully, and also that of reading rapidly a large quantity of material for the sake of its principal ideas. The most striking accomplishments of analytic thought are found in the scientific observation and explanation of facts. In natural science we are dealing, not primarily with books and lectures — material which is itself the product of analysis, and is arranged to facilitate study — but with a chaotic field in which the discrimination of the relevant from the irrelevant, and the reduction of the matter to its simplest terms are very much more difficult. How helpless we are in trying to study ourselves out of a difficulty with an erratic typewriter or a misbehaving furnace — puzzles much less obscure than the secrets of nature. Perhaps it is not to be expected that the rank and file of college students shall do much more than repeat experiments and come to an understanding of what others have discovered. Yet now and then there appears a sentences, or indicate them by a marginal mark, or we may write in the margin a brief statement Avhich summarizes a paragraph. This obviously helps us in review. But in the name of academic decency let us refrain from marking books which belong to other persons or to a library. We might with as much propriety carve our names on a neighbor's front door. THOUGHT FACTORS OF STUDY 107 first hand observer^ gifted with the power of analytic atten- tion to nature, and the result is a Newcomb, a Shaler, a James, and a little pushing forward of the frontier of our knowledge into the wilderness of our ignorance. Supplementary Thinking Study we have seen to consist of purposive thinking and analytic thinking. It also consists of supplementary think- ing, — the enlargement, clarification and correction of what is presented to us. For example, the editorial on "Smoking in Street Cars," which I have just read, has less value for me as an authoritative statement which I need to learn than as a means of developing my own opinion. It brings to mind my own observations, it raises questions about habits and tendencies of human nature and about health and comfort, it invites criticism, partial acceptance and partial rejection. And so if I spend some minutes in supplementary thought on the subject I understand it bet- ter than I would by simply perusing the editor's remarks. Books, magazine articles, sermons and lectures are often chiefly valuable not as information but as food for reflec- tion. In this subject the best presentation of the various features of college life which I can make is certainly in- adequate and hence is to be used by the student, through his own reflection, to develop a more correct and comprehen- sive view. Some of the principal forms of supplementary thought are the following: First, Illustration. Facts and principles are ren- dered much clearer if we can throw upon them the light of similar matters with which we are familiar. Thus our understanding of an idiom in a foreign language is facilitated by comparing it with an odd usage of English. If a new project of legislation is mentioned, a reflective listener can perhaps tell how it has worked in his own state. Some students are especially bright in illustrating history by modern analogies, or the principles of economics or ethics by observations of contemporary American affairs. New ideas mean something to them in terms of their own experience, and whatever they touch glows with a warmth 108 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE that comes from contact with life. The thoughtful search for fresh illustrations gives us a better grasp of what we are trying to illustrate. Second, Explanation. We "explain" when we ascertain the cause of a fact^ or relate a specific truth to one of more general ai3plication. Human beings have a sponta- neous interest in the why of things, an interest exhibited even by children in their curious questions about the world and what happens around them. This interest needs only cultivation to become the dynamic of scientific progress, for science consists of observing nature so carefully that we can formulate its laws, which we then use to explain particular occurrences and to predict the future. The physical sciences are already well developed in this respect, but the complex behavior of society is little understood in terms of cause and effect. We have yet to learn definitely how political crises, labor movements and religious develop- ments show the working of great natural laws. The cause of a recent financial flurry, for example, is stated in the newspapers with profuse variety and with little agreement as to the relative importance of the factors involved. Our studies in all fields are continually presenting facts which call for explanation, and if yvc attack them with this kind of "supplementary thinking" we may contribute a little to the advance of learning as well as increase our rational power. So important, indeed, is the explanatory point of view that some of our leading educators have regarded the develop- ment of it as the central feature of an ideal educational system. Third, Evaluation. This is the process of estimating the worth of an idea, of looking at both sides of a question, weighing the evidence and forming a just conclusion. In advanced study as in matters of everyday experience facts often seem at variance and opinions about them differ, so that it is the task of the student to ascertain the real truth for himself. Instead of accepting uncritically whatever strikes him as plausible, or rejecting the views of others because they do not harmonize with his prejudices, he can put himself in the position of a judge who decides a case on its merits. This balancing of considerations to deter- THOUGHT FACTORS OF STUDY 109 mine their relative value, in other words the "judicial" habit of mind, is in some persons a natural gift, but we can all cultivate it.^ A special responsibility for evaluative thinking rests upon the college bred. Contemporary problems, such as arise in the fields of education^ government, and religion, call for wise, independent judgment on the part of those who deal with them. Conservatism and radicalism alike need intelligent criticism. Guidance by tradition and authority are perhaps best for the mass of people, but such guidance often fails in dealing with new conditions; while on the other hand the zeal of new ideas and the emotions of sympathy and anger in matters of reform must be tempered by sound discrimination. College grad- uates ought to be leaders of public opinion, and at the same time the steady balance wheel of society. To see all sides of a question, to remain unaffected by prejudice, to act for the welfare of the town, the city, the state and the nation, rather than for that of a particular class, is their special privilege. College is the place where fairminded- ness may be most thoroughly acquired. The best kind of training may be obtained through the deliberate and im- partial discussion of the controversial questions of college study and college life.^ ^ I once found almost an entire class answering the question. Why is play more attractive than study? by saying simply that the goal of study is more distant than that of play. Probably they had obtained this explanation, which is a part of the truth, from some seemingly authoritative source, but it is significant that few had reflected upon the point enough to observe that study often has a goal as immediate as that of play, that some persons find study more attractive than play, that play appeals to social and competitive instincts much more than study. Yet all these considerations lie within easy reach of one who thinks the matter over. ® There is a kind of hypertrophied thought fulness which ends in inactivity or in scepticism. One may see all sides of a problem so meditatively as to disable himself from doing anything about it; — perhaps this is a special danger to the student because he is removed from active participation in the world's affairs. But on the whole thoughtfulness tends to efficiency. CHAPTER XI SCHOLARSHIP Are College Students Unscholarly? If the teachers in American colleges were asked to state what in their opinion is the principal defect in student life, they would probably answer in chorus, "Lack of scholarship !" Friendly, likable, courteous, morally earnest though the student may be, possessed of excellent qualities and full of promise for the future, he yet fails as a rule in one important respect — the desire to master a subject of study, and the willingness to sacrifice other interests for this end. Belonging to an institution which is essentially devoted, as its history clearly shows, to the highest culture of the mind, he takes part in it and even helps to carry on its daily life without fully realizing its meaning. Lacking, it is alleged, is "the spirit of learning." Is this charge true? Certainly not in an unqualified form. There are genuine scholars in the ranks of student life, young men and young women of brilliancy and power who leave nothing to be desired in the way of scholarly thoughtfulness and zeal. Perhaps there are more of these than the professorial critic ordinarily acknowledges, for while he appreciates the good work which comes before him, he is obliged to spend most of his time in considering another kind, and he not infrequently finds himself over- whelmed by the mass of good natured indifference to study. The intellectually earnest are crowded into the background of the scene. But when this qualification is made the fact remains that most college work is mediocre. It passes, but does not do justice to the subject or the capability of the student. The latter gives only intermittent attention to lecture or 110 SCHOLARSHIP 111 discussion^ scans hastily one or two references when a dozen are important^ contents himself with a cursory- perusal of a chapter instead of a thoughtful analysis of it^ passes over points of difficulty without examination. Slipshod, inaccurate recitation; vague, unsystematic essays; incoherent, superficial reports of reading; "fuzzy" ideas appropriately expressed in careless grammar or illegible script — these are prevalent facts. Undoubtedly the easy going student acquires some information, but his attain- ment is frequently sufficient only to pass very lenient requirements. How far his performance is from genuine scholarship he himself knows. Confronted with the ques- tion, "How much of your work have you done as well as you can.f^" he would probably answer conscientiously, "Not much."^ Probably the undergraduate would be moved to remark further that the innumerable demands of college life make scholarship impossible; and certainly the reasons for the present condition are easily seen. In the first place there is a lack of initial interest, especially in required but seemingly futile subjects; and this untoward state of mind is hampered by a lack of methodical knowledge of how to study. Undoubtedly many students enter college with- out constitutional fitness, clear purpose, or proper discipli- nary training. The ease with which a college education may be attained attracts many who have little natural capacity for it, and little desire to excel in it. The difficulty is increased by the social complexity of college life with its emphasis upon athletic, fraternal and other non-intel- lectual activities. These are naturally more interesting, on account of their social character, than are subjects of study. Scholarship suffers because it is so individualistic a pursuit; it wins no great social approval because it lacks social enthusiasm. Hence social incentives to it are wanting, and the ideal college man is defined in other terms than intel- ^An interesting contrast is pointed out between these condi- tions and those which prevail in Oxford and Cambridge. The general level of scholarship is perhaps not widely different in the two cases, but in our colleges fewer students give themselves to study with the utmost earnestness, and become known as scholars of the first rank. 112 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE lectual proficiency. Furthermore, the lure of professional ambition is felt less keenly than in the professional school. A liberal education does not obviously point toward success, in the common understanding of the term; it shows little direct connection with the business and enjoyment of life. The total result is that a large majority are content with mediocre work, and the college is distinguished by faculty learnedness rather than by undergraduate learning.^ What is the remedy for a condition so manifestly inap- propriate in an institution of higher learning? Our answer must recognize that no single prescription is adequate. The problem must be attacked from different sides, and improvement must come through the combined force of various influences. The Motives of Scholarship Let us understand at the outset that scholarship neces- sarily involves cooperation. Instructors cannot communi- cate it to unwilling students, and on the other hand the scholarly minded student needs direction by the instructor. As we touch the matter on different sides we find at every point that teachers can supply the motives of scholarship only if "the party of the second part" gives them a lodgment in his own thought. First, of course, there must be interest in the subject, the perception that it represents some aspect of human life and that knowledge of it reacts upon life, giving the latter breadth, dignity and power. This "life value" may be explained, but generally speaking it will be realized by the student only through deliberately, voluntarily taking an interest. Second, successful scholarship depends upon knowledge of method. Indifference sometimes comes from vagueness as to just what is to be done or just how to do it. The art of study varies, of course, in different ^ Mr. Dooley depicts the incoming freshman as welcomed by the president with the inquiry, "Me clear boy, what special branch iv larnin wud ye like to have studied fr ye be our competint professors?" and the good-humored gibe indicates a fact. The division of labor is often accepted by teachers as well as by students. SCHOLARSHIP 113 subjects, and like other arts can be learned only by specific instruction and responsive practice. Perhaps teachers ought to inculcate precise methods more carefully than they ordinarily do, showing how to take notes, how to look for material, how to limit and define topics, how to use apparatus, and the like. Possibly the student also ought to take more pains to learn just how work should be done. And this leads us to a third point: the solid basis of scholarship is the regular practice of meeting definite requirements. As we learn by actually doing, so the worth as well as the art of scholarly effort reveals itself to those who become accustomed to steady performance. How many students not only have no regular study habits, but also have a feeling that probably none are needed, since nothing definite is really required ! Accordingly, there is a basic need of a fair amount of regular work. If the mini- mum valleys and average levels of study can be raised in this way perhaps the higher peaks will rise spontaneously. These are positive prerequisites. A negative one, fre- quently proposed, is the stricter regulation of the affairs of college life which distract attention from study. It seems absurd to allow these to absorb so much time and energy that the student has little or none left for his main business, hence many critics think that there is need of rigorous surgical treatment of these excrescences, and some colleges limit the number of college enterprises in which a student may engage. It may be doubted, however, whether such restrictions have much positive effect in im- proving scholarship; but apart from this consideration it is questionable whether the limitation of individual free- dom, except for the direct benefit of the college as a social body, is desirable. Certainly it is better if possible to encourage scholarship by showing that it is worth while. In order to make this clear it has been proposed that the number and value of honors and prizes be increased. Competition will thus be stimulated, it is hoped, and the winners will attain such honor as is now accorded almost exclusively to athletes. Doubtless it would be possible in this way to encourage scholarly effort, but we may question whether the method goes to the root of the difficulty op 114 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE would have extensive eiFect. There is comparatively little competition for existing prizes, even when they are of considerable value. The four principal kinds of scholarly distinction — paid or honorary scholarships, special honors in particular courses or departments, essay and debating prizes, and membership in the honorary societies of Phi Beta Kappa and Sigma Xi — do not commonly attract a large number of competitors. They call for individualistic rather than for social effort, and perhaps for this reason are often regarded with mild contempt as the concern of an abnormal, unsocial type of mind. The honor loses importance if it fails to command social appreciation. Furthermore, money awards seem so uncertain of attain- ment that the practical mind looks upon competition for them as a probable waste of time. To preach that the effort is well worth while in itself is to make use of the very considerations which such a mind does not grasp — the intrinsic dignity of scholarship and its general utility as training. The depreciation of scholarship will therefore not be radically altered by increasing the number of honors and prizes. While these have a wholesome function in college, and perhaps more are needed, they fail to solve the problem of increasing respect for study. If the common under- graduate valuation of intellectual proficiency is inadequate, this mistake can be corrected only by showing that such proficiency leads to certain things in life which are un- mistakably desirable — to successful professional work, to refined enjoyment, to effective citizenship. The solution of the problem therefore lies in the direction of proving that scholarship brings rewards in life which the unscholarly do not attain. Can this be proved.^ Cer- tainly a considerable amount of evidence is found in the fact that the students who win the highest grades in col- lege study also win an exceedingly disproportionate num- ber of distinctions in later life. This important truth is revealed by comparing college records with those of the professional school, with the testimon}?- of Who's Who, and with the careful observations of college authorities who follow the careers of college graduates. Such comparison SCHOLARSHIP 115 of student performance with subsequent achievement shows that the college scholar has much the best chance of dis- tinguishing himself in law^ medicine^ and other highly trained vocations_, as well as of attaining more general kinds of influence and happiness.^ Undoubtedly success in life finds its explanation in other conditions and qualities of character beside zeal in study — in friendliness^ in influ- ential support^ and in sheer will. The kind of success which is desirable is based on an "all 'round" excellence of character. But we ought not to entertain the delusion that this broad excellence may omit studious interest, or that the hard student is doomed to obscurity. In view of the facts the notion that study does not pay can hardly be sustained. Study most distinctly does pay. Probably it does not bring the very largest pecuniar}'- rewards, but there is unmistakable evidence that it brings success in the soundest and best meaning of the term. Grades Consideration of the problem of scholarship inevitably runs into the subject of grades, i.e., the letters, words or numbers which officially indicate degrees of scholarly excel- lence. Almost every one is keenly interested in these symbols. He may be ambitious or hopeless, proud or ashamed, gratified or disgruntled, but he is rarely indifl'er- ent. In fact it may be said that nine-tenths of the problem of scholarshij^ as felt by college students is that of securing satisfactory grades. These are so important an appendage of the curriculum, and their advantages and disadvantages ^ For example, the percentage of Phi Beta Kappa graduates who achieve later distinction is approximately three times that of all college graduates who do this. For a discussion of the subject and a report of statistical studies see Foster, Adminis- tration of the College Curricidum, Ch. XI. Compare also Slosson, Great American Universities, pp. 68, 69. Our conclusion is not invalidated by the fact that there are geniuses who do not fit into the college scheme, who fail in its studies, and who nevertheless accomplish great things in later life by methods of their own. These peculiar exceptions, properly understood, rather reenforce the general truth. Nor is it sig- nificant that the mere "grind" is likely to get nowhere. The spirit (Of scholarship must of course be integrated in a well rounded life. 116 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE are so complex, that it is worth our while to consider the matter somewhat in detail. Are they a desirable asset or an intolerable nuisance? What is the proper attitude toward them?* As an advantage we must acknowledge their administra- tive usefulness. They not only define the passing mark, but they help to give definiteness to conditions of gradua- tion. They are a basis for awarding honors, and for recommending graduates for various appointments. In short they constitute a more reliable record of what a student has done, and a more exact measure of his intel- lectual ability, than could be stated conveniently in any other way. Secondly, their influence as incentives, though this is commonly overestimated, is unquestionably effective in the case of some individuals. To a few at the top of the ladder the A is a tempting bait, steadily pursued week after week when without it work would have slackened; while at the other end of the scale the mark of failure is a goad which prods the delinquent with its pointed suggestion of disgrace. To a smaller extent intermediate grades have a similar effect. They help to settle the prac- tical problem of how hard to work. And apart from this consideration they satisfy a natural human curiosity, the desire to know how well one is doing in a field which is too extensive or complex for one's own grasp. The grade is the instructor's relatively expert estimate of one's knowl- edge and power, matters in which one is justifiably interested. On the other hand it may be urged that grades distract attention from the central purpose of study; that they * Grades appear to have been used originally to determine relative standing in the award of final honors; but in time they gained new functions as conditions of graduation and as a basis for expelling poor students. The use of them is now all but universal, though a few institutions dispense with them, except for the necessary distinction between passing and failure, and some do not report them to students. There is a general tendency toward the adoption of a simple system consisting of four pass- ing grades. A, B, C, D, and two grades, E and F, indicating more or less complete failure. This system has a workable sim- plicity, and facilitates the transfer of a student from one insti- tution to another. SCHOLARSHIP 117 tend to make one aim at a letter rather than at a grasp of the subject. At best this is not the ideal "spirit of learning"; at worst it produces a "grade hunting" char- acter, inquisitive, envious, petulant, even dishonest in large or petty ways. Occasionally it leads to overwork and ill health, especially among girls, who sometimes regard the letter A as a symbol of salvation. But the principle objection is that it imposes a narrow, artificial and unreli- able standard of accomplishment in place of the student's own deliberate judgment of what his study amounts to. The standard is unsatisfactory because it is based on a few answers to questions, or pages of writing, conveniently assumed to represent the student's total grasp of a subject. How far from the truth this may be, especially in the case of a "catchy" examination, or how inadequately the grade may indicate the student's intellectual upbuilding, we need not stop to explain. Moreover the grade is only the judg- ment of a single person, sometimes one of rather unjudicial character. Instructors mark very variously. The same paper, submitted to Mr. X and to ^Ir. Y, will be highly commended by one and called a poor effort by the other. The judgment of the instructor varies at different times, and as a rule is too lenient at all times. Almost every one gives a larger percentage of high grades than is reasonable, and some are habitually thus indulgent to a third or a half of the class. Under such conditions mediocre students who fail to receive the highest mark feel disappointed, and distinctions of honor cease to be distinctive. More rarely the teacher shows a discouraging unwillingness to recognize real ability, or bases his marking, consciously or uncon- sciously, upon the student's general reputation for scholar- ship. No doubt instructors are usually fair minded and conscientious. Serious injustice is infrequent. But when one has to read scores of essays or examination papers in a few hours, critical analysis is impossible, and appreciation is necessarily somewhat impressionistic. The overburdened reader looks hastily for certain main points, makes a shrewd estimate of the writer's knowledge and labor, and passes on to the next paper. There are two principles which should govern the assign- 118 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE ment of grades^ and in consequence the student's under- standing of the matter. The first is that the pass mark ought to indicate satisfactory work. Too often it is given grudgingly^ and with a strong flavor of condemnation, to those whose work clearly does not deserve it. The land is full of college graduates who have "passed" in subjects about which they know almost nothing. But what, as a question of intellectual consistency, does "passing" mean if not a genuine grasp of a sibject? The view that the C has a shadow of disgrace athwart it is quite as unjusti- fiable as the student's acceptance of it as "the gentleman's grade." If one passes in a course no special praise or criticism is appropriate; he has satisfied the minimum requirements — which should be high enough to make his performance really satisfactory. If he displays greater ability or energy, and especially if his instincts of scholar- ship lead him to put individuality and originality into his work, he should receive credit in the form of higher grades. The highest should be reserved for extraordinarily brilliant accomplishment. With this understanding the D may be assigned to the relatively few doubtful cases, the merits of which cannot easily be determined more precisely. The second principle is that mental ability varies accord- ing to a kind of natural law, so that the different grades normally go to certain proportions of the class. Under proper conditions of instruction there are a few who deserve the highest mark on account of extraordinary brilliancy or zeal. At the other extreme there are a few failures and cases of doubt. The rest of the class is of average merit, though it may be subdivided into smaller grade-groups. Thus, to state the principle in convenient figures, we may say that ten per cent of a class should receive A, twenty-five per cent B, fifty per cent C, and fifteen per cent D, E and F. In so far as the class is a selected group these proportions may vary. In a small number class of advanced students there may be an abnormal amount of excellent ability; while in a very large class the difficulty of holding individuals to their work may ultimately produce an over weight of low grades. Required and elective courses are likely to show a slight SCHOLARSHIP 119 difference^ and any course will now and then gather an exceptional number of hard workers or of dullards. But as a rule a class' will naturally fall into groups of some such proportions as those stated.^ The application of these principles will perhaps be unwelcome to one who has been accustomed to getting high marks easily, and they may bring an unpleasant feeling of being predestined to a place in the lower half of the class, or a discouraging sense of being only an average student. But on the whole it is better to get just what we deserve, and in the long run it is more satisfactory to know where we stand than to harbor illu- sions about our ability — and suffer inevitable disillusion- ment later. Unsuccessful in one field, possibly we will attain success in another. What is most needed is a lessened interest in grades and an increased interest in the subjects studied. Concern about grades is, after all, rather childish. Much of it is mere curiosity, or pride, or a somewhat selfish spirit of competition, — traits which are not of the first importance in human character. Graduate students and those who have a strong professional purpose become indifferent to marks, and relish the freer atmosphere of advanced study. Some undergraduates, likewise, rise above such petty con- siderations. They have a more stimulating objective, and also a more critical judgment about their own work. The true scholar cares for the instructor's help rather than for a grade, and cares most for what he feels himself to be obtaining from his work. He knows that his own thought- ful judgment on this point is more important than that of any one else. Is it not possible to develop more widely the spirit of scholarship which strives for what is really worth while, and declines to trouble itself with mere letters or figures ? Acknowledging that human nature has an instinctive desire for such distinctions, from which it seldom ^The ground for this assertion lies in certain psychological experiments, and in the careful observation of mental ability in large numbers of persons. Tests susceptible of exact measure- ment reveal in statistical form the natural law of distribution of mental ability. For an extended discussion of the subject see Foster, Administration of the College Curriculum, Chap. XIII, 120 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE becomes completely free, we may still hold that other motives should dominate college study. The distinction which most college students need is the trained mind which has methodical command of a problem, and an independent, self critical power of investigation. One who possesses this is not likely to lack the more formal distinctions. CHAPTER XII STUDENT HONESTY Prevalent Conditions In college as elsewhere we find honest and dishonest persons. Some students are simply incorruptible; no matter what emergencies arise they present for credit no work which is not entirely their own. A few, on the other hand, are habitually dishonest, willing to make use of any illegal resources if they can do so with probable safety, wholly callous to the dishonor and injustice of their action. Fortunately they are very few. Between extremes are those who are more or less likely to succumb to temp- tation, and it is this large middle class, the occasionally or accidentally dishonest, of which we need to take special account. They are not naturally or deliberately immoral, but are rather weak or thoughtless about the matter. The principal causes of stumbling are found in the pressure of difficult and disagreeable tasks, laziness, per- sonal antagonism to an instructor, and the persistence of an immature attitude toward study, a view of it as irksome discipline rather than a means of growth. At the moment, perhaps, the offence seems a peccadillo, justified by over- powering necessity and by human nature in general. But of course it may be the first stroke in wearing a groove of habit. The next slip is easier. College dishonesty is usually more or less localized in particular subjects or courses. Exacting, uninteresting requirements in mathematics or English composition, for example, produce traditions which are passed along from one class to another, to the effect that certain slippery methods have become legitimate through common use. Recitations or examinations which impose undue strain 121 122 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE upon the memory encourage the practices of reading from concealed translations, borrowing surreptitious assistance from friendly neighbors, and carrying into the chamber of torture illicit information in compact and inconspicuous form. Doubtless the most common evil is the submission of written work, such as themes and essays, which have been copied from books, or perhaps begged, borrowed, purchased or stolen from more gifted associates. There is so much writing in college courses that shrewd scamps now and then make a lucrative business of supplying theses and other material to those who, in the polished language of the advertisement, "have no taste, time or aptitude for such tasks." Fraternities sometimes preserve the written work of members for use by later generations. Kindred spirits in the pursuit, or rather the avoidance of unpleasant studies ingeniously organize an "intelligence bureau" which places the slight learning of each at the disposal of all. Such localized dishonesty does not necessarily extend its operation to other courses of study, but it is likely to do so in emergencies. College dishonesty is illogical, however. So complex and irrational is moral character that a student who will cheat roundly under some circumstances will be scrupu- lously honest under others not essentially different. More- over, some who hardly hesitate to look on a neighbor's paper will refrain from lying if detected, perhaps because in their childhood training they received a deep and lasting impression that spoken falsehood is wrong, whereas scholastic honor was a later and more superficial acquisi- tion. Furthermore, one who will deceive an instructor may be a pinnacle of rectitude in other respects — generous, loyal, active for the welfare of the college. Once in a while a prominent and respected student is caught in deception, to the amazement of everybody. On the other hand a punctiliously honest fellow may be a prig and a social nuisance. It should be added, however, that habitual dishonesty in study is generally significant of moral weakness in other directions. The tendency of any un- sound spot in the fabric of one's character is sooner or later to corrupt the whole, while conversely a habit of STUDENT HONESTY 123 honesty works to harmonize the rest of life with itself. From one point of view^, indeed^, the function of the college is precisely that of introducing rational and moral con- sistency into life. College study, like the business of the country at large, is in general conducted honestly; in both fields dishonesty is exceptional. While there are occasional lapses on the part of individuals, and some slight epidemics, college students as a class meet fair requirements with honest effort. There is no reason to believe that dishonesty is more prevalent to-day than it was fifty years ago, when the "trot" was not unknown in- college halls, though doubt- less it has evolved in variety along with the curriculum. The evil diminishes, too, as the student advances ; upper classes are comparatively free from it. What exists is of relatively small proportions, and demands attention just as an epidemic of disease, affecting only a fraction of one per cent of the population, calls for preventive and curative treatment. The problem is partly that of removing certain unhealthy conditions, and partly the development of an intelligent view of student responsibility. Reasonable re- quirements and fair examinations will do much to lessen the evil, a concerted "college spirit" of honesty is requisite, and the significance of dishonesty with regard to character and life work needs to be made clear. The Honor System The most notable line of improvement is that of the "honor system," which transfers responsibility for the honest performance of work from the instructor to the student himself, on the theory that trust encourages hon- esty, whereas supervision fails to secure it. The name is applied to three forms of practice. Sometimes it indi- cates only a general habit of trust, according to which students are left alone in examinations. Sometimes it includes a written declaration that the student has neither given nor received improper aid. Lastly, it may imply responsibility on the part of every one to report any offence which he sees, either to the faculty or to a student 124 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE committee which is empowered to deal with the case. In one or another of these forms it is found in about a third of American colleges, and the adoption of it is increasing. On the whole it appears to work successfully, though opinions concerning its efficacy vary, and there have been occasional failures and abandonment.-*^ A frequent objection to the honor system is that it is artificial in comparison with the conditions of every day life. We do not ordinarily have our word taken unques- tionably; rather do we expect to purchase tickets, give receipts, present witnesses, and altogether to stand a great deal of scrutiny. Similarly in college, it is said, we ought to look upon supervision simply as a sound method of ascertaining that work is properly done. Reliance upon honor in particular matters or under special conditions tends to suggest that at other times deception is normal if not proper. The higher kind of honor, we are told, the honor that is perfectly indifferent to supervision or the lack of it, remains undeveloped. The force of this objection is overbalanced in the opinion of many, however, by the practical effectiveness of the honor system as contrasted with supervision. Possibly, too, the discrepancy from ordinary life is less than is alleged; trust and confidence are after all rather common. Thus we customarily accept one another's word without question, especially in the friendly, family and even in the business relations to which the college bears closest analogy, unless there is reason for demanding better credentials. The danger that trust will tend to cultivate a state of mind which is not honest unless it is trusted is largely fanciful, and is certainly overborne by the value of forming a habit of working honestly. The graduates of honor sys- tem colleges are probably not less honest in affairs of later life than are the graduates of others. The practical effects of the system, both in college and afterward, are, in the opinion of a majority of students and instructors who have had experience with it, such as to justify confi- ^For the results of questionnaire investigations see Sheldon, Student Life and Customs, pp. 262-^65, and The Nation, May 2, 1912, Letter on the Honor System. STUDENT HONESTY 125 dence in it. It actually helps to create conditions and to form habits of honesty. Each of the three forms of the honor system has its merits and its difficulties or defects^ The simple relation of mutual confidence between instructors and students is in itself a desirable condition, and it is one which often works satisfactorily without more methodical reenforce- ment. Single courses and even whole departments are found in which no one thinks of cheating or being cheated, no matter what occurs elsewhere. This is especially true of mature students, engaged in study of their own choosing, and enjoying relations of personal friendship with their teachers. In such cases the clear atmosphere of habitual honesty pervading the departmental precincts may be a refreshing and inspiring change to newcomers. No better method of cultivating self dependence and respect for work could be found. There is plenty of testimony that it stiffens the student's self reliance, accentuates the mean- ness of cheating, and is seldom abused even by persons who have been accustomed to dishonesty elsewhere. Occasional abuse there will surely be, however. Students are human beings, and human nature is inclined to take care of itself in emergencies as best it can. But certainly there is no more dishonesty under a judicious exercise of trust than regularly occurs under conditions of suspicion, and the total result in the development of character is far more wholesome. It is better to provide an opportun- ity for moral self development, even though a few prove unworthy, than it is to continue through the college years a state of mind characteristic of immaturity and foreign to the spirit of higher education. Freedom, as we have already noted, implies the possibility of abuse, and the pos- sibility of doing right involves the danger of doing wrong. Instructors are now and then saddened by such abuse of confidence, but this regret is overbalanced by the concur- rent opinion of a multitude of students as to the efficacy and value of trust in their own lives. The reason for requiring a written pledge of adherence to the honor system is that it serves as a concrete re- minder of responsibility, — a thing which is perhaps espe- 126 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE cially needful in large colleges with their loose personal ties between faculty and student body. If the institution professes to maintain the principle of honor in its examina- tions it is well to have this asserted by individuals as a matter of their own adoption. It also acts as a deterrent in the case of one who would cheat but who would not lie about it^ for these offences, as has been pointed out, are not equally easy to commit. On the other hand it encourages the offender to add one fault to another, and it fails to reach those who are hardened in dishonesty. The honor system in its third form rests upon the as- sumption that when dishonesty occurs students have not only knowledge of the fact, but also moral reliability in dealing with it. This assumption is of crucial importance. It is one thing to possess a sense of responsibility with regard to one's own conduct; it is quite another to ac- knowledge responsibility for the conduct of others. So in society at large, one who would not pilfer an apple from a fruit stand, or beat his way on a street car, is usually unwilling to report or rebuke those whom he chances to observe committing these misdemeanors. Not unless the offense is criminally dangerous do we feel under obligation to bring the offender to justice. In college, likewise, reporting dishonestly seems to be tale bearing, and even to show disloyalty. Perfectly honorable students have an instinctive repugnance to doing such a thing, and colleges have sometimes refused to adopt the honor system simply because they would not tolerate what they regarded as dishonorable spying.^ Other colleges have abandoned it because in this respect it failed; when cheat- ing occurred no one would give information to the authori- ties. Such reluctance cannot be overcome except by some more powerful sentiment. Accordingly the success of the honor system in this form is dependent upon a point of view ^Opponents of this method sometimes object to it on the ground that it turns students into detectives or spies. This, of course, is not true. No one is properly supposed to look about for dishonesty. Responsibility implies only that if one happens, to observe an offence he shall help to maintain the honor system, by reporting it. STUDENT HONESTY 127 which regards dishonesty as a serious offense, particularly in the light of "college spirit." Otherwise cribbing seems only a peccadillo, or not the observer's business. Strong loyalty to the welfare of the college is the only motive which is strong enough to overcome revulsion against tale bearing. Needless to say, this type of college spirit is rare. It signifies participation in the historic ideals of the institution, and it reflects itself in the character of the individual student, making him first and foremost a member of the college body. Huge metropolitan colleges, with their inner diversity of interests are less favorable for the development of it than are colleges of a more isolated and homogeneous sort. It requires a strong tradi- tional group consciousness, actively militant against every one who flouts its customs. The mere voting for it, even unanimously, is far from assuring it of success as more than one college has discovered. It needs not only good intentions, or even college spirit in the usual meaning of the term, but rather an unusual absorption of the indi- vidual in the life and ideals of the college, so that the interests of the latter become paramount. Without this there may be much college honor, but not a thorough going "honor system." Practical Considerations Since dishonesty "is the thing that it is," the correction of it is somebody's business, and this means the business of those who know about it and can correct it most ef- fectively. In so far as the evil arises from unjust re- quirements by an instructor it is appropriate to explain the matter frankly to him. If his methods are such as to encourage cheating, or his exactions so unfair as to con- stitute temptation, the class can make this clear. He may not acquiesce, but he is likely to change his practices, if not his mind. If he does not, it is justifiable and even desirable to bring the matter to the attention of the ad- ministration. Publicity is the most wholesome corrective of injustice. But this advocacy of democratic principles implies some- 128 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE thing else which may be less agreeable. If a student is known to be dishonest, and especially if he abuses the privileges of a course and the confidence of an instructor, it is the duty of his associates to deal with him. It is usually quite possible to do this gently and effectively. I have more than once known a single student to correct an erring neighbor in a kindly way, and I think that this is the best method if it can be brought to bear upon the case. If no one is willing to undertake it alone, perhaps a little group of three or four, whose motives and standing are unimpeachable, would better act to- gether, showing the offender that he is disregarding the welfare of the college in a particularly foolish and futile way. The difficulty of starting such a concerted movement is obvious, but the willingness to do this is real college spirit, and the group method may overcome individual re- luctance. In any case this is certain: college students ought not to treat a cribber as though his offense were nothing. If he is dishonoring the college he deserves at least coldness and neglect. Ostracism is a most effective punishment. In making the matter clear to one who needs enlighten- ment it is hardly worth while to dilate on the wrongness of cheating. Every one understands that dishonesty is wrong. To dwell upon the enormity of the offence is likely to provoke a reaction, as against exaggerated moral- ism. But there are certain truths which may need to be explained. The first is that the common forms of dis- honesty are not of much use. The little aid thus obtained is unlikely to affect very greatly the total estimate of one's work; or in other words one must cheat in a rather extensive way in order to profit by it. As a matter of cold fact it is generally true that the cribber either could have passed without his cribbing, or has failed with it. At the moment the need of help looms large, but the emergency is probably much less significant than it seems, and if the stress of temptation would permit one to ask himself "Is this going to be really worth while?" and to think it over, his own answer in most cases would be a resolute "No." STUDENT HONESTY 129 Second, the danger of detection, or at least of incurring suspicion, is much greater than is commonly supposed. Some forms of dishonesty can be practiced shrewdly with- out much liability of exposure, for college teachers are not detectives, and often prefer not to investigate a suspicious case unless the evidence is strong. But irregular acts al- most inevitably arouse suspicion. The culprit draws at- tention to himself by disturbed look or stealthy gesture, by unaccustomed glibness or unfamiliar phrase. As a rule, if a theme or examination paper contains much stolen material its face bewray eth it, just as extraordinary fluency in translation reveals the "pony." And suspicion sticks to one's reputation like pitch to one's fingers. Any in- structor will testify that there are certain persons whom he cannot recall without the flitting of a shadow across his memory. The evidence was inconclusive, but the sus- picion remains. Years afterward such a recollection may attach itself to one's life like a burr which refuses to be shaken oiF, and some new accusation may gain plausibil- ity on account of it. It is plainly, literally and most emphatically true that we cannot afford to act suspiciously. A doubtful reputation is a severe penalty in itself. Where detection follows, the consequences are all the more serious. I have known a record of dishonesty to pursue a man for years, through three institutions, thou- sands of miles apart, and into his professional life. The practice of requiring students who come from other col- leges to present a certificate of good character obviously increases the danger. No one can outlive conviction. Every college has upon its list of former students the names of some who never return to its campus and its festivals, and who would be scorned by their former associates if they did. The most painful penalty is the self condemnation which is likely to come later. The unpleasant memory darkens self respect like an indelible stain. There is no forgetting. The only escape is a larger corruption of character to correspond with the offence. Hence a fundamental need in this matter is that we should be honest with ourselves. While college honesty 130 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE is a social matter, and while any honor system must de- rive its force in large measure from group interests, it remains true that our own judgment of what is right and wrong is of final authority for us, and that our main re- sponsibility is to our own intellectual conscience. If we know that common customs are dishonest, and that common excuses are sophistries, let us treat them as such. A college education ought to enable us to distinguish be- tween a genuine reason and a pretence which masquerades as one. To form our ideals and habits deliberately, to face tasks resolutely, to grasp and hold fast the truth that higher education does not consist in learning or avoiding lessons for teachers, but in self development, this is the educational point of view which solves the problem of honesty in a way worthy of the college. Most students, I believe, attain it. CHAPTER XIII HEALTH Fundamental Importance of Health, The Health Problem Physical health is clearly a part of an ideal life. If we are normal human beings we desire to rise in the morning with energy, to face each day with eagerness, to eat with hearty appetite, to work with strength, to play with zest, and to get "tired out" in the way which brings sound, refreshing sleep. The regular, easy performance of the bodily functions of respiration, digestion, circula- tion, excretion, the vigorous exercise of muscles in arm and leg, the activities of the nervous system, all this seems obviously desirable in itself. When we reflect upon the matter we see that the sig- nificance of health is revealed in its effect upon the mind. Upon it depend not only physical efficiency, but also mental efficiency and happiness. Without it we fail to do our best work, and we find our whole outlook upon life clouded. It was wisely said by Lessing that if we are spared ill health we can endure our other troubles. Health is the foundation which if unsound weakens the whole super- structure of life. The exceptional cases of great accom- plishment in spite of ill health — that of Herbert Spencer for example — reenforce this truth rather than justify in- difference to it. While physical disability is sometimes ac- companied by an indomitable will and extraordinary in- tellectual or artistic gifts, it remains true that life cannot be satisfactory without a basic bodily soundness. This is why writers on ethics universally emphasize care of health as not simply a matter of convenience or common sense, but as a duty of the first order. Present day civilization involves a considerable danger 131 1S2 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE of loss of health. Our mode of life tends to dispense with healthy activity, to assume sedentary forms which, physiologically speaking, are unnatural. For thousands of years man used his bodily powers to run and to climb, to hunt for his food, to till the soil, to make his dwelling, his clothing, his weapons; and these occupations gave him health. The progress of civilization gradually turned them over to specialists, until to-day we pay for almost all such services, often without performing others to take their place. Money, machinery, and the division of labor lessen personal effort to such a degree that many of us have a very narrow round of bodily activities, perhaps none that are really vigorous. We attend to a machine, or sit at a desk, or give orders to other people, and our bodies do not get the active use which their inherited con- stitution requires. We make little movements with our fingers instead of big ones with the big muscles of the trunk, leg and arm, the exercise of which is requisite for the healthy performance of other functions. Rural occu- pations have of course preserved more of the original, natural and healthful vigor and variety of bodily activity. It is in city life with its many sedentary employments that this special danger chiefly appears. The fact that the population of the country is flowing toward the city, and that the latter has a much larger percentage of the total than it did a century ago, makes the danger con- spicuously greater. With this difficulty goes another no less serious, — strain upon the nervous organism. Along streets and in huge buildings a multitude of sights and sounds beat upon our eyes and ears. The newspaper, the telephone and tele- graph give us no rest. Store windows and flaring ad- vertisements demand our attention. Ambition, money mak- ing, the struggle for financial existence keep us in a state of tension or excitement. In short we are very much "over stimulated," and the result is a nervous condition intensely antagonistic to health. It is a mistake to sup- pose that the danger disappears through our "getting used to it." This is a task for the race, not the individual. As the body becomes increasingly saturated, so to speak. HEALTH 183 with the poison of continuous, unnatural excitement we may go our way in relative unconsciousness of its condi- tion, but nevertheless the nerves, arteries, muscles and other tissues are degenerating, and often the end comes with a snap, a striking headline in a newspaper, and a tragic blight upon a home. Fortunately we have become so aware of these dangers that we are on our guard against them. In spite of them our life as a people is increasingly healthy; science reenforces our instincts as hygienic guides, and public in- telligence in the matter of health grows rapidly. The play of childhood and youth is extending into maturer years; municipalities are constantly improving their con- ditions by enlarging public parks, imposing sanitary re- strictions, and educating both young and old in regard to the importance of health. As a result many a city is quite as healthy a place as the country which surrounds it. Yet the forces which make for ill health remain, and the danger is one to which we must not be blind. The reason for making the foregoing statement is the fact that college conditions oifer an excellent illustration of the danger. A college is ordinarily a somewhat close packed community by itself, or is situated in a larger one. Its work is primarily mental, its stimulation incessant. The demands of study and habits of diversion combine to lessen the free play of the physical organism and to heighten the nervous tension. Continual crouching over a desk, disregard of diet, relentless use of the eyes, late hours, disinclination to take proper exercise, these are some of the more common evils, and all are departures from the natural, healthy way of living. The outcome in a few cases is nervous breakdown; in many others it is mental sluggishness relieved by forced excitement. The loss of mental efficiency may not be sufficient to be called ill health, but it is a loss; and though the harmful effects of an improper mode of life do not demand the attention of a physician they are nevertheless stored up in the system, perhaps to reappear obstinately long after col- lege days are over. As in the wider field, however, conditions are such 134 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE as to justify optimism with regard to the future. On the whole the college is a healthy place and is becoming more so. College students as a class are healthier than other youth. The danger of ill health is constantly met by san- itary regulations^ by facilities for exercise, by habits of right living. Nervous breakdowns are few, and epidemics are rare. What we need to observe is that this fortunate condition deserves our intelligent cooperation, or in other words that we ought to pay attention to the laws of health as a part of our higher education. Practical Principles. Without entering the field of technical detail we may note certain broad principles of healthy self guidance. First, most of us are naturally so healthy that our in- stinctive feelings reliably dictate what is good for us and what is not. Our health instincts are rules of nature, re- peated over and over in successive generations until we feel them as blind assurances that we must act or not act in particular ways. Thus hunger calls for food, cold for protection, weariness for rest, pain for any change that brings relief. Instinct likewise tells us to exercise, to play, to sing, to dance. Any alleged rule of hygiene which opposes such instinctive promptings lays itself open to suspicion. Occasionally, of course, we must avoid being misled by momentary impulses, or by the fluency of bad habits which demand gratification; instinct may err, and it may become perverted. But in general health is properly maintained by perfectly natural means with which we are familiar, by regular habits of eating and drinking, of play- ing and sleeping, according to needs which nature her- self reveals in our consciousness. A healthy life is pre- eminently a natural life. It is of course a mistake to worry about our health, and continually debate with ourselves whether this or that thing is good for us, or whether this or that feeling is a symptom of illness. Questions of food and drink, light, fresh air, clothing, bathing, rest and exercise are properly to be settled on the basis of competent advice, or HEALTH 135 by judicious reflection, and then in the form of habits dismissed from the mind. So, too, if we think we are seriously sick we ought to consult a physician; otherwise we ought not to allow ourselves to think that we are sick. Especially to be avoided is the whole category of "health fads" — vegetarianism, fasting, drinking quarts of water daily, taking ice cold plunges, going without an over- coat in freezing weather, and the like. These are all condemned by the same fact — they are unnatural. The reasoning on which they are based is conspicuously fal- lacious, and the persons who practice them for any length of time usually appear to be "enjoying ill health." Prob- ably they are applicable to individual cases, but their ad- vocates make them a gospel for all mankind. Unfor- tunately this misguided philanthropy in propagating hy- gienic crotchets is often expressed in attractive literary form, and there are few of us who have not been im- pressed by such literature at one time or another. Scientific instruction about our physical being and the proper care of it is an appropriate part of higher educa- tion. Physiology and hygiene are subjects which not only belong to the curriculum of the college, but deserve more study than they ordinarily get. There is reason, indeed, for including such study among the requirements of the freshman year. As general reading the scientific litera- ture of the subject is for the most part forbiddingly tech- nical, but there is an increasing number of popular books, written by men of unquestioned scientific standing, which serve to direct the casual reader into safe paths. In this field as in others scientific truth is not necessarily so ab- struse as to be unintelligible; it may be stated clearly, and the business of popular exposition ought not to be monopolized by clever literary advocates of nonsensical fads. Fortunately the public interest in good health, re- sulting from awareness of the danger indicated above, has brought forth much literature that is reliable, and that is easily available for the reader who is discriminating enough to ascertain a writer's standing. 136 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE Special Needs in Student Life (1) Care of the eyes. Nowhere does the strain of our civilization fall more painfully and dangerously than upon the eyes. These members were evolved for scrutiniz- ing things more distant than the pages of a book, for vision of larger objects than little black marks on white paper, for rest in darkness rather than protracted use in artificial light. Our abuse of them is often extreme. It is no wonder that the percentage of eye defects, be- ginning with the early years of school life, steadily in- creases. Not infrequently these troubles produce head- aches and indigestion; and counterwise, disorders in various parts of the body may affect the eyes. Remembering that the occupations into which college graduates go usually need unimpaired vision, and that a single pair of eyes is positively all that any of us can have, it obviously be- hooves us to take no undue risks with so delicate and ir- replaceable a part of our bodily apparatus. We ought to be careful to avoid reading in a dim light, or facing a strong one. Weak eyes cannot stand direct illumination, and bright sunlight reflected from a white page is harmful. Unsoftened electric light is too strong for some of us, and we have to repel it by the use of an opaque eye shade. Reading in street cars, if practised at all, should be limited to books with large print. And finally, we need to rest our eyes frequently, especially when reading. The little muscles of adjust- ment around the eyeball cannot stand the incessant strain of focussing vision without protesting in their own fashion, perhaps by inciting a severe headache. It is well to close the eyes momentarily from time to time, or to change their focus by looking off to distant treetops, buildings or hills, and thus give them the rest which their faithfulness de- serves.^ ^ So centrally important is this matter of vision that the in- difference of college authorities to it is strange. Colleges fre- quently impose a physical examination upon all incoming stu- dents, but leave their vision to their own care, or carelessness. It would be helpful to have a competent oculist examine every student's eyes at the beginning of his college course, and give him the benefit of expert advice. HEALTH 1S7 (2) Exercise. Student life does not ordinarily involve physical exertion, or encourage the forms of exercise upon which health depends. It tends to become sedentary, or nervously active, rather than vigorous in a muscular fash- ion. "Athletics" in plenty there are, indeed, but unfor- tunately these are the burden of a small percentage of the student body, while the others do little or nothing but exercise their vocal apparatus as spectators of the fray. The best of gymnasium facilities fail to tempt the ma- jority to take sufficient physical exercise, although there is not the slightest doubt that bodily health and mental efficiency demand this. The amount of exercise needed in order to maintain health is not large; in fact a few minutes a day is suf- ficient. Of course if we have an ideal of physical per- fection we will labor conscientiously to correct all our phys- ical defects by practising special gymnastics for an hour or two each day. But few will stick to such a plan. Most of us desire simply to keep ourselves in "good con- dition," and this may be done in a more natural way. Our method may be that of gymnastics, but it is more likely to be play, — friendly contests at tennis, handball, base- ball, golf, and the like. The defect of routine gymnastics is their monotony. Exercise needs to be joyful, spon- taneous, eager. Its mental conditions and effects are as important as its physical form. If it is merely per- functory, a dreary grind of mechanical movements ac- cording to directions, it is of comparatively little value. Perhaps the indiscriminate requirement of formal gym- nastics is better than leaving students entirely to their own self neglect, but it is not the best solution of the problem. A little vigorous play everj^ day is much bet- ter. College exercise should be play, not merely vicarious play by highly trained specialists, but universal play, full of the "play spirit," cooperative, comjaetitive, and as much as possible in the open air. The athletic field monopo- lized by a few skilled athletes needs to be supplemented if not replaced by a large number of courts and other fa- cilities for healthy sport, all occupied by inexpert but 138 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE vigorous youth. It would be wise even to sacrifice some of our beautiful college lawns for the purpose. Col- lege men and women possess play instincts^ and it is pre- sumably possible to make this kind of physical exercise fashionable among them. The main need is for better facilities. One who appreciates the depth of this need longs to see huge fields filled with hundreds of students engaged in all sorts of open air contests. Something like this will undoubtedly be characteristic of the college of the future.^ (3) Rest. Colleges are essentially restless places. The association of hundreds or thousands of energetic people in a community with scores of activities going on all the time creates an atmosphere of tension and excitement. Study and social diversions combine to produce excessive stimulation, and in consequence there are many cases of over-draft upon the nervous energy of the organism — exhaustion of the nervous system to a level below that of efficiency. Healthy youth seems indeed to have in- exhaustible reservoirs of vitality, and endures the pres- sure without failing, but nevertheless the wear and tear is really going on.^ Sometimes the result is "nerves," i.e., a heightened irritability or nervousness which theatens prostration; more commonly it is a mental sluggishness, fired only by artificial excitement. Occasionally there is a breakdown which requires long years for recovery. The danger is increased by the prevalent notion that we can obtain rest by a change of occupation. Within cer- tain limits this is true, as when we turn from study to physical exercise, or from work to light reading. But ^ In my own college certain courageous friends used to rise at five o'clock in the morning in order to use the diamond which was at other times reserved for the nine. The logical absurdity in a democratic institution of excluding the many in favor of the few, although all alike pay for use of the athletic facilities, is gradually gaining recognition. ^ The nervous movements which we find ourselves making — twirling a pencil between the fingers, clasping and unclasping the hands, twisting a button, drumming on the chair arm, or tap- ping the floor with the toe of one's boot — all these are expendi- tures of energy, sheer waste. HEALTH 159 there are degrees of weariness which render any further activity pernicious. If the brain is tired out, physical exercise deepens the fatigue; — what one needs is rest. If we are physically exhausted by hours of athletic prac- tice, it is foolish to try to spend the evening in study; — again, body and mind need rest. The point to bear in mind is that we actually accomplish more by resting thoroughly between periods of work than by turning nervously from one thing to another under the delusion that we overcome our weariness by forgetting it. Rhythm of work and rest is nature's law for living things. Study hours should be punctuated by moments of mental relaxation; this is the reason for the ten minute interval between classes, and it ought not to be abused by study. Many persons find an afternoon siesta helpful in preparing them for further effort, and of course the accumulated fatigue of the day makes a sound night's sleep requisite for the restoration of energy. With regard to keeping Sunday as a "day of rest," we must acknowl- edge that our college schedules do not encourage it. The tide of work and play carries us swiftly along through the week, and Saturday usually leaves us unprepared for Mon- day. Almost every one finds it convenient if not prac- tically necessary to undertake a certain amount of study on Sunday. It remains true, however, that if we set the day apart for peace and quiet, in reading, in attending wor- ship, or in walking into the country, we begin the week with fresh strength and optimism. The secret of the matter is that rest is growth. Physi- ologically this is well understood, but the mental side of the fact is less obvious, though none the less certain. We know how problems sometimes seem to solve them- selves if we dismiss them from our minds and wait for the correct solution to burst upon us spontaneously. We know too that the ideas of genius come from mysterious depths of the mind, so unfathomed by the individual him- self that he frequently regards his "inspiration" as a divine gift — which perhaps it is. But we do not suf- ficiently realize that our best ideas and purposes, our hopes, our faiths and our ideals, incubate during rest, 140 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE recreation^ day dreaming, even sleep, and that in order to expand our mental horizon and clarify our mental vi- sion we need to give our minds plenty of opportunity to do their so-called "subconscious" work. Rest does not merely regain lost strength, it creates new power. CHAPTER XIV COLLEGE LIFE Development Broadly speaking, the activity of the college falls into two divisions, namely curricular study and "college life." The former is essenially intellectual, the latter distinctly social. Of course the two kinds of activity are not sharply separate; study has its social aspects, and college life is partly developed to intellectual concerns; but on the whole the distinction is clear. In this and following chap- ters we shall consider certain features and problems of college life. No phase of the development of the college is more striking than its increasing complexity of social organiza- tion. At the outset there was little or no organized stu- dent activity; in fact the spirit of such organization was foreign to the purpose and regime of the college. Study, classroom drill and religious exercises filled most of the day. Play and friendly association were distinctly subordi- nate. Any form of recreation outside the prescribed and traditional order was ipso facto under suspicion. The pioneers of the development were literary and de- bating societies, some of which existed in colonial times, and had important functions in forming student opinion on political topics. Most of the organized activities of con- temporary college life are products of the nineteenth cen- tury, however — some of them of very recent origin. Liter- ary journalism appeared at Dartmouth and Yale in the first decade; religious societies were organized at Har- vard and Williams at about the same time; and musical clubs had an even earlier origin. Phi Beta Kappa, the first Greek letter society, was founded at William and 141 142 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE Mary in 1776, but no other fraternities appeared for nearly fifty years. Intercollegiate athletics date from the middle of the century.^ Many of the organizations were of course ephemeral; the flame of some student's enthusi- asm flared up, caught associates, and led to the formali- ties of a club name, a constitution and bylaws. Sooner or later attendance and interest waned, and the organization expired. Several, however, have had a continuous life from their origin, and now look back upon a dignified history of half a century or more. At the present time we find an astonishing variety of such groups — fraternities, literary and debating societies, religious associations, musical and dramatic associations, ncAvspaper and magazine boards, department clubs, "cur- rent events" clubs, athletic clubs, chess clubs, sketch and camera clubs, political clubs, state clubs, national clubs, cosmopolitan clubs, and a host of others — dozens and scores of clubs in a single institution. When in addition we consider the informal, unorganized reading, talking, play- ing, "mixing" of everyday life we are led to take a new view of college education. The point of this view is the acknowledgment that "col- lege life" is not merely recreational, but is also in its own way educative. It does indeed afford recreation, and some of it has this for its primary purpose. Yet we would make a serious mistake if we were to estimate it simply in this aspect and ignore its educative function. Whether such function is important or trivial, valuable or harmful, remains to be seen, but there can be no doubt that the student in all his association with his fellows is learning.^ Let us look at the matter in this light. Educational Value The enterprises of college life have several distinct kinds of educational value. In the first place they offer, as a ^ For an account of this development see Sheldon, Student Life and Customs, Chs. II, III. ^ President Angell long ago pointed out the then somewhat eye- opening fact that the student learns from his associates just aj^ genuinely as from his books. COLLEGE LIFE 143 rule, an opportunity to learn something about subjects out- side the curriculum. Not only the literary and debating society, the current events club and Bible study class, but also the dramatic association, the newspaper board, the state club and others are, in their own more or less in- formal way, self running college courses. In fact not one of the societies enumerated above fails to conduct regular or occasional discussions or practical exercises which teach the participants something which they are interested to learn. The aim and method may be theoretical or practical, the general understanding of a topic of intellectual interest or the cultivation of artistic skill, but it is in any case an educational aim. As a rule it was this rather than any mere recreational purpose which the founders had in mind. Critics of "college life" frequently fail to appreciate this aspect of it, the supplementary value which it hjjs in relation to the curriculum. The individual course of study at best includes only a few subjects, and necessarily excludes many with which the student desires to become acquainted. Under the most favorable conditions it is con- centrated in purpose and method, and it omits much which should enter into a college education. Especially do mat- ters of current interest in the college and in the world at large fall outside its scope. The organization of college life is the student's way of adjusting himself to this in- evitable concentration, of gaining a broader view of human culture. Sometimes he lets this educational activity crowd the curriculum into the background.^ Secondly, college life has educational value because in the spontaneous pursuit of a chosen interest one may learn ^ It cannot be denied that in some notable instances the road to greatness has led not through the curriculum, but rather through byways of zealous study connected with activities of college life. These cases are distinctly exceptional. As a rule college activities, however interesting and profitable, are not properly a substitute for the curriculum. Systematic instruction should remain the central interest of the college student; there should be no doubt about this even though friends think otherwise and some testify that they "got more good" from outside activities than from courses of study. Such testimony may be true as an individual fact, but it does not finally determine educational values. 144 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE to do something thoroughly and well. Such eiFort is self training in argumentative alertness and effective address, in grappling with contemporary problems, in developing artistic talent, and in the practice of conducting meeting and transacting business. Regular courses usually afford little opportunity for oral self expression, and almost none for such practical activities as the production of a news- paper or a dramatic performance. College life calls for practical effort. In some cases there is an astonishing amount of hard work for the love of it. Generally speaking, however, these enterprises suffer frcm inert membership. It is so easy to join, and so hard to find time for actual participation! Over organized as the college is, the various groups jostle one another, and many languish periodically through lack of strong self- support. Of course it is not to be expected that they should demand continuous hard work. We are justified in taking membership in them rather easily; and perhaps it is inevitable in all such associations that the burden should fall on the faithful few who are most deeply in- terested. But we ought not to be merely hangers-on. Occasionally it is a duty to help turn the wheels. On the whole it is wise to keep aloof unless we are willing to take an active part now and then. Third, college life has educational value of a social kind. These activities are essentially the interests of groups of persons who cooperate in the pursuit of them. The individual identifies himself with the group and so with the broad, healthy life of the institution; he adopts a purpose larger than his private aims, and thus acquires a habit of cooperation. When we consider how society is constituted, and how social enterprises are conceived and carried out, we see that it is of the first importance for individuals to learn to work together with common aims and common sympathies, without cross purposes or friction, and to find in the very fact of association a strong motive for doing something that is worth while. This social educa- tion is acquired in the various group activities of college life. For these reasons a college course which lacks partici- COLLEGE LIFE 145 pation in such activities is incomplete. The student who graduates without having helped to maintain at least one organization in which membership is optional, who has taken no part in debate or concert, literary publication or athletic sport, who has not aspired to an editorial chair or held a role in a dramatic cast, has failed to measure up to the wholesome standards of college life. He is an adjunct of the college family rather than a member of it. Let us observe further that it is peculiarly the function of certain college organizations to educate the college as a whole. Thus the athletic association should cultivate the spirit of fair play; the college newspaper should not only publish college news, but should discuss college ques- tions with wisdom and impartiality for the purpose of creating sound public opinion within the college walls ; the musical and dramatic societies should elevate the college taste; the religious associations should provide instruction which aims at the moral and religious welfare of student life. Whether or not these organizations actually per- form such service it is properly their business. To some extent they usually do. Colleges would be artistically, so- cially, morally worse but for their efforts.^ We must not leave this aspect of our subject without * In many cases improvement is desirable. College newspapers, too, often show a tendency toward sensationalism and an habitual indulgence in slang, indecent personal comment and athletic l ^rag - gadocio. On the other hand, there are papers which in their own way are as "newsy," as instructive and dignified as coidd he desired. There is no reason why the college press should not unify college sentiment in a way which is representative of the common interest and of the ideals of higher education. So, too, musical and dramatic associations might educate the taste of college students more than they commonly do. American college songs are lacking, as a rule, in dignity, depth of feeling and delicacy of expression; while the production of classical music lies altogether outside the repertoire of most musical so- cieties. In the field of dramatic art notable advance has already been made. Some dramatic associations no longer confine them- selves to farce and musical comedy, but produce plays of real worth, occasionally reaching such a pitch of idealism as the presentation of Sophocles, Moliere, and Shakespeare. There is an unworked dramatic field in college life itself, its deeper currents and more serious, even tragic incidents. 146 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE acknowledging that the unorganized forms of college life, the free association, casual discussion and spontaneous play, also have educational value. No doubt these ordi- narily occupy too much time, and are too often utterly trivial in character. But there are possibilities of real helpfulness in the play, talk and jest of the campus. The recluse, no matter how studious, loses something impor- tant. Casual conversation, if it consists of an interchange of ideas about matters of living interest, is oftentimes equivalent to a lesson in practical ethics. Incidental rec- reation serves to reveal life and truth. Of course we ought not to carry on this informal mingling and discus- sion with a deliberate and solemn purpose of self im- provement. It should be, as it normally is, free, spon- taneous, self forgetful. As such it properly belongs to college education. Even though we have to deplore the fact that this friendly association usually wastes much time in the discussion of utterly unimportant affairs it re- mains true that its participants are learning to go through life in a good natured, sympathetic, kindly way. Excess, The Problem of Regulation That most colleges have altogether too much "college life" in proportion to the amount of curricular study is an assertion which few impartial observers will deny. Not only instructors within and critics without the college walls but students likewise acknowledge that the incessant round of social activities leaves too little time for the quiet, thoughtful, scholarly mastery of academic subjects.® One ° "What with so-called 'college activities' by which he must prove his allegiance to the university, and social functions by which he must recreate his jaded soul, no margin is left for the one and only college activity — which is study. Class meetings, business meetings, committee meetings, editorial meetings, foot- ball rallies, vicarious athletics on the bleachers, garrulous ath- letics in dining room and parlour and on the porch, rehearsals of the glee club, rehearsals of the mandolin club and of the banjo, re- hearsals for dramatics, college dances and class banquets, frater- nity dances and suppers, preparations for the dances and banquets, more committees for the preparations; a running up and down the campus for ephemeral items for ephemeral articles in ephem- eral papers, a soliciting of advertisements, a running up and COLLEGE LIFE 147 belongs to a dozen clubs, taking little active part in any, but nevertheless letting each distract attention and oc- cupy time which should go to more significant concerns. As a result there is nervous tension and inability to get any- thing done well because there are so many things which need doing all at once. Occasionally, too, the mind of the whole college is usurped by some relatively unimportant matter, and peace is disturbed because of athletic inci- dents or fraternity conditions. These and other similar consequences of college life tend at the present time to offset its real value. Regulation is conspicuously needed. Yet the difficulty of giving these matters their rightful place, amount of time, intensity of interest and thoroughness of accomplish- ment creates a puzzling practical problem. Some col- leges attempt to solve it by rules forbidding membership in more than a limited number of organizations, but this method is foreign to the principles of freedom which char- acterize the college. Moreover, since individual capabili- ties and the requirements of membership differ widely, an arbitrary limit is sure to prove unjust or futile. And its practical efficacy at best is doubtful. Equally dubious is the effort to regulate college activi- ties by putting them under formal supervision, and grant- ing credit for participation in them. It is impossible to exercise proper control without overburdening instructors, and in consequence supervision becomes perfunctory and gives way to neglect. Membership is sought as a con- venient means of obtaining credit with a minimum of labor, and the desirable spirit of freedom and spontaneity, without which the enteri3rises lose much of their value, down for subscriptions to the dances and the dinners and the papers and the clubs; a running up and down in college politics, making tickets, pulling wires, adjusting combinations, canvassing for votes — canvassing the girls for votes, spending hours at sorority houses for votes — spending hours at sorority houses for sentiment; talking rubbish unceasingly, thinking rubbish, revamp- ing rubbish — rubbish about high jinks, rubbish about low, rubbish about rallies, rubbish about pseudo-civic honor, rubbish about girls; what margin of leisure is left for the one activity of the college, which is study?" Professor Gayley. 148 COLLEGE STUDY AND COLLEGE LIFE is lacking. In the case of intercollegiate debating^ and pos- sibly the chief editorships of the leading publications, ex- ceptions to this rule may wisely be made, for these re- quire hard, continuous study or practice, and in their own way are subject to intellectual tests. But for other enter- prises the motives ought to be spontaneous interest and loyalty to the college. The pleas