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SOCIAL KOTI'/ATIOK OF -^IKGLISH LIT^RATURS TEd.CEIlJG. 
 
 By 
 
 SOPHIA McSNTYHE 
 ft 
 
 A. 3. 1915. 
 
 THESIS 
 Submitted in partial satisfaction of the requirements for the degree of 
 
 MASTER OF ARTS 
 in 
 
 EDUOATION 
 
 in the 
 
 GRADUATE DIVISION 
 
 of the 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 Approved. 
 
 Instructor in Charge 
 
 Deposited in the University Library. 
 
 Date 
 
 Librarian 
 
■-^ 
 
 ce'«.fl « 
 
 LBfc 
 
 ■DHC, Berr 
 
1. 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 • • • 
 
 Z. 
 
 PREFACE ii-iii. 
 
 II. 
 
 SURVEY OF THIRTY- TWO HIGH SCHOOL ENGLISH LITERATURE 
 
 CLASSES 1-25. 
 
 III. 
 DEFINITION AND APPLICATION OF TERMS IN THE TITLE 
 
 "SOCIAI. MOTIVATION" 26-45. 
 
 IV. 
 ENGLISH LITERATURE AS CALl^'.H UPON ESPECIALLY TO 
 
 CONTRIBUTE TO SOCIAL MOTIVATION 46-60. 
 
 V. 
 SOME SUGGESTED WAYS OF USING ENGLISH LITERATl'RE .61-72. 
 
 VI. 
 
 CONCLUSION 73-76. 
 
 VII. 
 BIBLIOGRAPHY 73-88. 
 
 • « • 
 
 64403S 
 
,1 
 
ii. 
 
 PREFACE 
 
 **» 
 
 There Is no attempt in this paper to cover any full 
 
 or 
 portion of the ground outlying, adjacent to the subject 
 
 indicated. To be expansively comprehensive would require 
 much more space than is here contemplated, A large amount 
 of material giving more general analyses of the curriculum 
 problems, and details of method, relative to treating" the 
 humanities" was encountered in trying to find oufwhat the 
 books say "about handling high-school problems, and the life- 
 problems contingent thereto. Discussion about the general 
 and related educational problems connected with such a thing 
 as "social motivation" has no implicit bounds. 
 
 The relatively large number of books which are included 
 in the bibliography below were not least valuable in strength- 
 ening the conviction that the need for sooialiaation of 
 school studies looms large. Such suggestion cams by impli- 
 cation rather than by specific reference from the reading. 
 Few, if any, writers, indicated ways or means for articulating 
 the social idea in English literature or swiy other courses 
 of study. 
 
iii. 
 
 Direction is 8uggest«d rather than any new plan for 
 teaching being laid out. The method in the study has 
 been as closely as possible inductive. 
 
SOCIAL MOTIVATION OF ENGLISH LITERATURE TEACHING 
 
 *** 
 
 In going about school-rooms where Erglir-h. liftrra't.urB 
 is being taught, and in grumbling about the English teacher 
 and his methods, afterward, the visitor lays himself open 
 only to blame, perhaps. Teaching English, in whatever way, 
 is hard business. And teachers are doing it, perhaps, as 
 best it can be done, given conditions. There is invitation 
 as well as reproof however, in calling these teachers '' angels, 
 before our faces, who prepare a way before us.'' 
 
 How is English literature being used as an "educational 
 means" in our secondary school classes in California? 
 
 There were observed for the purpose of this study, 
 thirty-two English literature classes in the public schools 
 
 Alexis F. Lange: "Literature as Educational Means." 
 Address before the Southern Section, California Teachers' 
 Association, Los Angeles, December 1S14. 
 
ci &■ 
 
of Oakland, and of Yreka, California, in the year 1919-20. 
 Sixteen olaases were visited in each place. Effort was 
 made to get a more or less indiscriminate inventory of the 
 work done in each class, eliminating from the original ob- 
 servations any preconceived notions as to how it should be 
 done. There was no particular prejudice in the beginning. 
 The schools visited are listed among the best in the state, 
 graded in the University of California Examiner's report 
 as A I. The teaching in these schools is therefore fairly 
 representative of the beat English literature teaching we 
 have in the state. 
 
 Point of attack, if not bias, was needed in order to 
 
 make specific observations, and to group them. Professor 
 
 a 
 Chubb 'a description of and norm for literature as/iform of 
 
 art was taken to serve for literature as an educational means, 
 
 "Literature must, as its master-aim, evoke and discipline the 
 
 great emotions. It must present clatified and transfigured, 
 
 as well as actual, manifestations of life] it must give us 
 
 1 
 ideals of humanity, of human society," 
 
 1 
 Percival Chubb: N.E. A, Proceedings, 1903. 
 
The following score -oard was used: 
 
 Front of card. 
 
 Class: Percent of 
 
 Teacher: thinking in class; 
 
 Piece of work: 
 
 ^ enjoying - 
 Teacher does: ^ bored- 
 
 Pupils do : $ indifferent. 
 
 ^ of character analysis; study of motives; 
 purposes: 
 
 Reverse of card 
 
 /^ of vicarious experiences: 
 
 io of reflection on the experiences: 
 
 ^ of time spent on incidentals: 
 $ of time spent on interpretation: 
 
 Special projects on hand- 
 
 ^ of purpose in teacher's 
 work: 
 
It was ascertained, too, whether or not specific attention 
 were given ethics by correlated work in the schools, by means 
 of English or other studies: if there were arrangement for 
 specially designated classes in biography, "the control of 
 conduct," etc.; or if certain recommendations were made fa>om 
 either English or History department heads, or both, to insure 
 occasional ethical, or social, interpretation of literature, 
 
 A particular limitation involved in this survey was 
 visiting most classes and teachers in Oakland but once — 
 giving possibility of having struck^a day off." This handi- 
 cap was offset, perhaps, by some talk with individual teachers, 
 which gave them opportunity for expressing somehow, better 
 intentions than their class work manifested. The observation 
 of the Yreka classes had the advantage of repeated inspection, 
 as well as collaborated observations of other visitors. 
 There persists the margin of error inherent in any educational 
 survey of live codgers. 
 
 The rating of the thirty-two classes is roughly 
 summarized on the following page. 
 
AVERAGE FOR THE THIRTY-TWO CLASSES 
 
 Percent of thinking 63 
 
 " " enjoying 34 
 
 " " indifferenoe 34 
 
 " " teaching: euggeetive and directive . 38 
 
 mandatory 62 
 
 " " pupils responding: (self activity. . . 64 
 in terms of (following the 
 
 (teacher 36 
 
 Percent of character analysis, study of 
 
 purposes, motives 58 
 
 Percent of vicarious experience 65 
 
 " " time on incidentals 33 
 
 " " " " interpretation 53 
 
 be 
 This table can, of course, only widely approxicate, 
 A 
 
 and intends to indicate the general tendencies, rather 
 than to present, in any way, quoted "statistics." 
 
 It will be noted that in classes where self-activity 
 did not operate in some degree, following the teacher 
 "as-leader" was less common than conducting side-track 
 activity — minds being with hearts - elsewhere. 
 
6 
 
 It will be noted then, that of the thirty-two classes: 
 
 6 supplied noticeably, vioarioua experience, 
 something which seemed to extend actively the 
 pupils' participation in life. 
 
 7 supplied exercise in character analysis in some 
 kind of reflective study of motives, purposes. 
 This last item would indicate with some accuracy 
 the degree of self-conscious method evolved in 
 relation to meeting and reflecting on personal 
 problems. The percent of original thinking of 
 some kind in the classes as a unit might r\in about 
 
 40. per cent. 
 
 There is in this last item, however, more room for error 
 
 due to faulty observation. The bored expressions are often 
 
 only tkin-deep and vice-<Versa. And present day high-school 
 
 sophisticated speecb ,is not easily plumbed. 
 
 1 
 Professor Chubb's description of the particular function 
 
 of English literature appreciation is not seen at work then, 
 
 to any marked extent, in the thirty- two representative classes. 
 
 Literature is not prominently "evoking or disciplining the 
 
 great emotions" in classes where the average percent of 
 
 thinking is sixty-two, of self-activity - sixty-four, however 
 
 wide the margin of error in these percent calculations. And 
 
 if vicarious experience be any where near sixty-five percent, 
 
 it could hardly be claimed that "manifestations of life. 
 
actual or transfigured," featured very conapici^uoly. 
 
 The item which seems moot largely neglected by the 
 current procedure is the interest and ability of the boys 
 and girla for adventuring. Sufficiently exercised, ouch 
 activity, whether in much company or in little, might 
 yield material for reflection; and might aid, consequently, 
 in developing moral self-conscioifeness. Having sufficient 
 identification with the characters and events of stirring 
 literature, direction to thinking about the motives, pur- 
 poses, causes, underpinning and overlying such experiences, 
 might be more easily, and so more readily, given. The 
 pupils' own ideas would have some play. Initiative in 
 acting and thinking could thus be fostered. Original re- 
 actions to situations in life might be educated. The end 
 of life as living together might become more popular and 
 profitable. 
 
 The representative teachers in the survey were not 
 concerned particularly with such matters. At beat they 
 battled with more explicit concerns. They stressed philo- 
 logical, grammatical analysis -- and were very precise; or 
 they glowed over literary types, and were style-collectors; a 
 few seemed to be aiming at some kind of vague "emotional 
 appreciation." Tliese filled most of the class periods 
 talking, themselves; some of them read "literature" aloud, 
 
.'•!■ 
 
 .;P 
 
 , .hsT:;-,, r'ljirr.si'f^f ti 
 
8 
 
 usually without any contagion in voice or manner. Some of 
 them, more versatile and younger, attempted combinations of 
 these three methods. In such classes motion at least, and 
 a breezy air dispelled tSdiun. 
 
 There was the teacher who spent forty-five from a 
 fifty-five minute class-period, introducing a third year 
 high-school class to George Herbert Palmer's "Glory of the 
 Imperfect," by syncopated pecks at the choice words in the 
 eBsay. No response coming from the claso at first, she both 
 asked and answered her questions for word definitions. The 
 pupils, catching the level of interest, were able by the mid- 
 dle of the period, to rise and define words, without materially 
 intemjpting their dreams and pastimes. The class had seemed, 
 during the opening moments when the new essay was announced, 
 to be alive for something that "Sounded good, anyway." There 
 y^&B a sincere and reserved air of no little expectancy. The 
 zest subsided quickly, almost obediently, as the word-work 
 began. 
 
 The teacher who, after reading Whittier's "The Lost 
 
 Occasion" to the class, proceeded immediately to describe 
 
 in detail the landmarks of Massachusetts, coming then to a 
 
 descriptive comparison of Whittier's early environment with 
 
 that of his littrary associates, was leading in perhaps the 
 
 to 
 most efficacious way ,^ collateral work. She may, too, have been 
 
iao. 
 
 !« itpift;; 
 
miRiatering to the historic sense of her pupils. But the 
 method was almost too out-and-dried for that, as the teacher 
 did most of the talking, and supplied all of the tntdrcBt and 
 enthusiasm. The treatment was ostensibly literary and 
 statistical. 
 
 Another teacher, reading "The Merchant of Venicef 
 oonsecutively, in monotone, was expecting to elioit thareby^ 
 suff ioient"appreciation" from a large and troublesome second 
 year class. No more obvious aim could be diaoemed, at 
 least. And the nature of questions as to "How Portia felt/' in 
 the casket scenes, and "What the Song said," indicated that 
 emotional appreciation or quizzing to find out if the lesson 
 were attended, were the aims. The only evidences of emotion- 
 al appreciation on the part of the pupils in this class* were 
 the antics performed in noisily changing seats, and glee 
 at one another's blunt, tho correct, answers to the obvious 
 questions. 
 
 The more prevailing type of class observed was, as above 
 stated, that in which all three of the current aims — 
 philological, stylistic, "appreciative," were somehow attempted. 
 The class in Lanier is a good, inclusive example of th|g 
 kind of teaching at its beet. The scoring of that class is 
 as follows: 
 
Front of Card 
 
 10 
 
 Clafls: 1st half, 3rd Year (Junior) Percent of 
 
 42 members. thinking in 
 
 Teaoher: 30 odd years, enthusiastic, class: 80 
 bustling, sense of humor. 
 
 ^ Enjoying- 90 
 io Bored- 
 io Indifferent ID 
 
 Teacher does: Listens to recitations, asks quest iori^ 
 to elicit thinking about authors, their 
 poems, lives, motives, etc, K 
 
 Pupils do: Recite poems; compare his style with 
 
 others; analyze somewhat and compare 
 characters of the authors* studied. 
 
 io of character analysis; study of motives, 
 purposes: (of abthors) 40. 
 
 Reverse of Card. 
 
 i> of vicarious experiences: 30. 
 
 'fo reflection on the e:g3erience8: 10. 
 
 io of time spent on incidentals — 
 
 (of poems-)15. 
 
 io " •• n " interpretation: 
 
 (of poets)50, . 
 
 \ 
 
 It is noteworthy here that the more social .humanistic aim is 
 
 .1 .^J 1....X J _ ± 
 
11 
 
 Such kind of class, with varied aims, is represented at 
 its worst by the Second year class studying "Julius Caesar." 
 The visitor's score-card was of little avail, with things 
 coining so fast and diversely. In that class the atmosphere 
 waB taut as the teacher by sheer domination of will carried 
 the class up and held them to delivering as economically as 
 possible as many emotional responses, reflections, comments, 
 specific facts as possible, in connection with the various 
 persons and events in the scene followaJ% the killing of 
 Caesar. The intention to make some room for "everything" 
 was very grave on the part of both pupils and teacheri The 
 discussion was undoubtedly ponderous, overwhelming, in- 
 determinate. There was a race for one hundred percent of 
 all and any values likely coincident in a class studying 
 literature. 
 
 The classes coming under this curvey present outstanding 
 and deep rooted deficiencies. And considering the high 
 standard of these classes, according to the state's accrediting* 
 these shortcomings may be considered representative of the 
 better faults in the English work being done in the high 
 schools in California now. 
 
a* \.I 
 
 ''^;^(^b 
 
IS 
 
 1, There is a large amount of single-minded teaching, 
 baaed on one or another of the requirements for traditional 
 scholarship in "letters," The philological, style-collecting, 
 and "emotionally appreciative "teachers supply this category. 
 These are persistant and plentiful because such "on* dimentional" 
 "teaching" is easiest and "surest," 3. There is the teaching 
 which aims more inclusively, but which, seeing so many alluring 
 possibilities, appears to exercise little judgment in regard 
 to relative values. Confusion, heaviness, and some frenzy^ 
 are the chief occupants in such class-rooms. The saddle 
 is drawn too tight, loaded too heavily. The animals can 
 only heave or steam« 
 
 There is more hope, however, from those teachers who 
 recognize, in whatever way, the possibility of other than 
 single or pedantic aims. The issue will turn on the in- 
 crease of their ability to disentangle the net of aims amd 
 desirable objects, and their willingness to sacrifice many 
 talks and exercises that are dear to their hearts. Herbert 
 Spenoer' summary of the matter in regard to education gener- 
 ally, fits with particular niceness these more hopeful average 
 English classes now. 
 
13 
 
 "The question which we oontend is of such transcend- 
 ent moment is not whether auoh or such knowledge is of 
 worth, but what ie its relative worth? When they have 
 named certain ad^rantages which a given course of study 
 has secured them, persons are apt to assume that they 
 have justified themselves, quite forgetting that the ade- 
 quateness of the advantage is the point to be judged. 
 There is, perhaps, not a subject to which men devote 
 attention that has not some value, A year diligently 
 apent in getting up heraldry would very possibly give a 
 little insight into ancient manners and morals and into 
 the origin of names. Anyone who should learn the dis- 
 tances between all the towns in England might , in the 
 course of his life, find one or two of the thousand facts 
 he had acquired of some slight service when arranging a 
 journey. Gathering together all the small gossip of a 
 county, profitless occupation as it would be, might yet 
 occasionally help to establish some useful fact — say a 
 good example of hereditary transmission. But in these 
 oases everyone would admit that there was no proportion 
 between the required labor and the probable benefit. No 
 one would tolerate the proposal to devote some years of 
 a boy's time to getting such Infornation, at the cost 
 
14 
 
 of muoh more valuable information whioh he might else 
 have got. And if here the test of relative value is 
 appealed to and held conoluaive, then should it be ap- 
 pealed to and held oonoluelve throughout. Had we time 
 to master all subjects, we need not be partioular. To 
 quote the old song: 
 
 Could a man be secure 
 
 That his days would endure 
 
 As of old, for a thousand long years, 
 
 What things might he know I 
 
 What deeds might he del 1 
 
 And all without hurry or pare.'" 
 
 One of the observations of the present survey as above 
 stated, >T3v8 in regard to the specific attention given ethics, 
 more or less as such, in whatever pls,ae, in the schools viAited, 
 As evident from the above accounts, the English literature 
 classes themselves featured little ethical prejudice — 
 except in the case of the more noticably superior classes. 
 The general attitude, taken ran usually in a Calvinistic or 
 in the Devil's own way. The classes wherein moralizing was 
 more scientifically handled were numbered. The Calvinistic 
 assuaed and dogmatic attitude prevailed. Instincts and 
 emotions were looked outside, while moral admonitions reigned. 
 
 Herbert Spencer: "Education," pp. 28-29 
 
15 
 
 One teacher talked for twelve or fifteen minutes on aspiration, 
 the joy and profitableness of "desiring all things that can 
 make life of value." The teacher who lectured to a second 
 term, third year class, for a quarter of an hour, in a trance- 
 like voice, on the transcendental peace which came to Holmes, 
 and which "come to all of us," "as the highest good," 
 illustrated the less harmful form of such adnonitions. The^ 
 Devil's devotees in these matters escaped responsibility and 
 embararssment by carefully avoiding serious reference to such 
 things, or by high handedly side-tracking imminent discussion 
 of such perplexing nature. It was this class of teachers 
 who stressed the scholarly 'history and mechanics,' of the 
 literature they were teaching. 
 
 If it is difficult for even very highly trained thinkers 
 to shake themselves free from traces of pedantry or cowardice, 
 it seems the Herculean task for teachers to observe and learn 
 that mere exhortation and precept -- or evasion have little 
 forceful, constructive effect on the young; to learn that no 
 eye of the blind couid be of less value than the teaching eyes 
 which fail to register the fact that such external commands, 
 prohibitions, sparrings, "have little or nothing to do with 
 the series of changes continually taking place in 
 
, .-. ■> , 
 
 
 9©;).> 
 
16 
 
 the inner life of pupils, changes which alone oonetitute its 
 
 1 
 moral progress or backsliding," 
 
 The classes in which the more effective attitude was 
 taken in these matters were also those in which the type of 
 teaching was better-timed psyohologiaally in other respects, 
 also. 
 
 No ethically motivated effort was found elsewhere than 
 in specific English rooms, as the independent effort of 
 individual teachers. Questions about correlated work along 
 the line in history, civiee, etc,, found no data. There 
 was no suggestion for such motix'ation by any departmental 
 director. 
 
 We come now to some classes which cannot be included 
 in any of the above categories. They stand out as unusually 
 animated, but without any of the high fever symptoms which 
 accompanied the usually busy but somewhat dazed and ineffectual 
 classes inef^rxjBd to abov^. They are the classes which bring 
 up the averaga for vicarips experience, character analysis, 
 original thinking ,in the accompanying survey. In these 
 class-periods neither pedantry, dogma, nor evasion seemed 
 the teacher's chief stock in trade. And neither noticeable 
 routine nor brilliancy held the class in tow. Genuine 
 
 1 
 
 Margaret llacMillan: "Education thru the Imagination," 
 p. 136. 
 
17 
 
 interest and thinking were part of these classes, neither 
 
 undue haste nor patched-up time-lapses were apparent. Two 
 
 classes can represent this more exceptional kind of work. 
 
 One was a first-term senior class, studying "Hamlet," The 
 
 other was a second term sophomore class studying Evelyn 
 
 Preston Peabody*s "Singing Man." The study with each piece 
 
 of work was observed thru several class periods. The class 
 
 scored 
 in^Hamlet^l on two successive days as follows: 
 
 Front of Card. 
 
 1st Day. 
 
 Class: 2d term(Eigh Seniors) 
 34 in number. 
 
 Piece studied: Last Act "Hamlet," 
 
 Percent of 
 thinking in 
 class: 80 
 
 1o Enjoying- 100 
 
 /o Bored - 
 
 1o Indifferent- 
 
 Teacher does: Jnoourages inductive 
 
 discussion by entering 
 
 into It herself and unobtrusively 
 
 guiding direction of thou^sht. 
 
 Pupils do: Present character analysis,* 
 
 S- 
 
 Under the pupils activity the first day on'Kamlet ,above, 
 also, must be noted the fact that the more significant 
 data of action and event was selected by the students with 
 no little discernment and made to throw light on the 
 
,-j" T'-'v 
 
 ^'i«q &T9W Sin] 
 
 •. — 'ViJ ^ 
 
 tftrrtJ 
 
 fOl) Bfiq;: 
 
IS 
 
 Reverse side of Card, 
 
 Ist Day 
 
 t— 
 
 ■^ 
 
 '^0 vioarioue experience: 90 
 
 'jo time on incidental at 10 
 
 (some excess wandering in 
 disouBslon) 
 ^ time on interpretation: 90 
 
 ^ of Purpose in 
 
 teacher's efforts: 
 
 90 
 
 Projects: Gathering 
 of reference to 
 action, etc, , 
 Similar or differ- 
 ent to action of 
 characters under 
 like or different 
 circumstances in 
 "Macbeth" and 
 
 V/in. V. l^oody'a   
 "Great Divide." 
 
 L 
 
 the character development of the men and women there. And only 
   A a wcnotgat od such generalities as might ^e^|^|ely deduced 
 from the analysis of the events and personsy^euggested for 
 life in other "oastles and ollmei." The students evinced 
 quite astounding ability to combine both caution and boldness 
 in their thinking . The inductive steps suggested by 
 Palmer (cf, p, below) were most fully and naturally used. 
 
 Note the possible range of thinking such exercise might 
 suggest . 
 
19 
 
 Front of Card 
 
 Class: 2d tern (High seniors) 
 
 Piece studied: 
 
 Last act ••Hamlet." 
 
 2d, .Day 
 
 PjiBrcent of thinking 
 in class: 90. 
 
 % enjoying; 100 
 
 % "bored : 
 
 % indifferent: 
 
 Teacher dues: as in 1st day ^ above card. 
 Pupils do: ' • " " , 
 
 % character analysis: 95 
 
 Reverse of Card. 
 
 2d Daj 
 
 r 
 
 /o Vicarious experience: 95 
 
 % time on incidentals: 
 
 % '• " interpretation: 100. 
 
 % Purpose in teacher's efforts: 90 
 
 L- 
 
q: 
 
The class in "The Singing Man" is rated "below. 
 
 30 
 
 Front of Card 
 
 Class: 1st term (sophomores) 
 Piece studied: Third part of 
 "The Singing Man." 
 
 Teacher does 
 
 Pupils do 
 
 
 J. G ^ ly ay 
 
 -,1 
 
 thinking 
 
 
 in class : 95 
 
 % 
 
 enjoying: 90 
 
 % 
 
 "b or ed : 
 
 % indifferent; 
 Directs attexntion to suggested and 
 implied pictures of the man and his 
 surroundings; to his motives and those 
 of society, implied in the selection; 
 to relative justice and relation to 
 each party of such action and conditioh^ 
 Reconstruct imaginatively and sympa- 
 thetically - verhally, the situations 
 implied here. Discuss matters called 
 to attention by the teacher's direction 
 above; offer hotly, miscellaneous 
 suggestions for different conditions. 
 
 Reverse of Card. 
 
 Ist Day. 
 
 /i Vicarious ' 
 
 experience: 60 
 
 Projects: Collection of 
 cartoons or other 
 pictures to illustrate 
 conditions as those 
 defined in the poem, 
 for exhibit. 
 
 '" time on incidentals: 
 " " interpretation: 75 
 
 % Purpose in teacher's efforts: 90. 
 
 
21 
 
 Front of Card 
 
 2d Day. 
 
 Class: Ist term (Sophomores) % of thinking 
 
 Piece studied: Fourth part of 
 "The Singing Man." 
 
 in class: 90 
 % enjoying: 80 
 ^ bored: 15 
 % indifferent: 
 
 Teacher does: 
 
 Pupils do: 
 
 Directs attention to - contrasts 
 of value suggested in the selection, 
 to wealth of picture detail; to 
 other such concrete situations re- 
 called by students. 
 
 Respond to above direction. Show zeal 
 and some insight in the comparative 
 discussion raised by teacher's last 
 suggestion. 
 
 Reverse of Card. 
 
 % Vicarious experience: 80 
 
 2d Day. 
 
 Projects: as above, 
 1st day. 
 
 % of time on incidentals: 
 
 of, H H M 
 
 interpretation: 100. 
 
 % Purpose of teacher's efforts: 80. 
 
22 
 
 To render above scoring more intelligible Parts III 
 and IV of "The Singing Man" are included here, 
 
 III 
 
 II 
 
 Seek him yet. Search for himl 
 You shall find him, spent and grim; 
 In the prisons, where we pen 
 These unsightly shards of men. 
 Sheltered fast; 
 Housed at length; 
 Clothed and fed, no matter howl- 
 Where the householders, aghast. 
 Measure in his broken strength 
 Nought but power for evil, now, 
 Beast-of-burden drudgeries 
 Could not earn him what was his: 
 He who heard the world applaud 
 Glories seized by force and fraud. 
 He must break,- he must take I - 
 Both for hate and hunger's sake. 
 He must seize by fraud and force; 
 He must strike, without remorsel 
 Seize he might; but never keep. 
 Strike, his oncel - Behold him here. 
 (Human life we buy so cheap, 
 Who should know we held it dear?) 
 
 No denial, - no defence 
 
 From a brain bereft of sense, 
 
 Any more than penitence. 
 
 But the heart-beats now, that plod 
 
 Goaded - goaded - diirab with wrong, 
 
 Ask not even a ghost of God 
 
 How long ? 
 
 When the Sea gives up its dead. 
 Prison caverns, yield instead 
 This, rejeo ted and despised ; 
 This, the S'o iled an d Sacrificed 1 
 
■SJh:. 
 
withou t form or oomeliness ; 
 Shamed for ue that did tranagresa ; 
 Brulaed, for our Inlquitie aj 
 With the s t rlpee that are all hie I 
 l^aoe th at wreokage. you who can « 
 It was once the Singing^ Ma n. 
 
 Part IV. 
 
 Must it be? Must we then 
 Render back to God again 
 This Hla broken work, this thing. 
 For his man that once did sing? 
 Will not all our wonders do? 
 Gifts we stored the ages through, 
 (Trusting that He had forgot) 
 Gifts the Lord required not? 
 
 Would the all-but-huraan serve'. 
 Monsters made of stone and nerve; 
 Towers to threaten and defy 
 Curse or blessing of the sky; 
 Shafts that blot the stars with smoke; 
 Lightnings harnessed under yoke; 
 Sea-things, air-things, wrought with steel. 
 That may smite, and fly, and feel I 
 Oceans calling each to each; 
 Hostile hearts with kindred speech. 
 Every work that Titans can; 
 Every marvel: save a man. 
 Who might rule without a sword. — 
 Is a man more precious. Lord? 
 
 Can it be?- Must we then 
 Render back to Thee again 
 Million, million wasted men? 
 Men, of flickering human breath. 
 Only made for life and death? 
 
:^i* :; 
 
24 
 
 Ah, but see the sovereign Few, 
 Highly favored, that rercaini 
 These, the glorious residue. 
 Of the cherished race of Cain, 
 These, the magnates of the age. 
 High above the human vege. 
 Who have numbered and posseait 
 All the portion of the rest I 
 
 What are all dispairs and shames. 
 What the mean, forgotten names 
 Of the thousand more or less, 
 For one surfeit of success? 
 
 For those dullest lives we spent. 
 Take these lew magnificent I 
 For the host of blotted ones. 
 Take these glittering central suns. 
 Few; - but how their lustre thrives 
 On the million broken lives 1 
 Splendid, over dark and doubt, 
 For a million souls gone outl 
 These, the holders of our hoard,- „ 
 ^ilt thou not accept them. Lord? 
 
 In the case of both classes the emphasis was markedly- 
 thoughtful and social. There was distinct participation in 
 experience, and the discovery of its meaning, on part of both 
 teachers and students. There was novelty but not caprice 
 in the genuine reactions of the pupils to the progressive 
 stimuli of the emotional content of the literature. The 
 teachers madf no extraneous efforts to be sure the necessary 
 preliminaries to interpretation had been done. Understanding 
 
ftic: 
 
 3 a: iix 
 
 ne- '- Tx 
 
 
of text and conteat were irtcident to the lively interpretation, 
 
 A natural question as to the order of Hamlet 'e thought in 
 
 one of hia apeeohes, etc. , kept classes reminded of the 
 
 necessity for careful preparation — did the temper of the 
 
 discussion not so do, Quizaloal questioning did not seem 
 
 necessary in any of these classes. The high and sustained 
 
 level of interest of all of these students supplied zeal for 
 
 understsinding and contributing to the class discussion as 
 
 and 
 fully as possible. The desire to talk/\to think out possible 
 
 meanings in the motives and actions of the characters of 
 the literature was sufficiently lively to render the teachers 
 but occasionally iirident in any other role than as fellow- 
 student. Self-direction was prominent. Vicarious experience, 
 analysis of character and conduct ,and individual .resourceful , 
 thinking were predominant. 
 
 It can be hardly necessary to note that in such classes 
 the "moral!' instruction was markedly more scientific thaji in 
 the classes where Calvin's bones rattled , or where predominately 
 
 human issues were pigeon-holed or averted, 
 
   * * 
 
-) , -, a 
 
 v*i. 
 
 \i.-ij^ 
 
 Tavsl 
 
 eKOo s«) X-^^*^'^ 
 
36 
 
 III. 
 
 The shortcomings - pedantry, pseudo- sentirrent , 
 confusion of aeliraB - indicated above may "be traced to two mai» 
 apprehensions. Teachers who display such shortcomings think 
 that neither spontaneous interest nor present experience can 
 he intrinsically valuable and continuous with later development. 
 The child, not cousin twice removed, hut father to the man, is 
 not a source of wonder to such - is outside their apprehensions. 
 The genuine interest in the discussions of the better classes 
 referred to above unmistalcably led the students to eonstructive 
 and enlarging intelligence. Only in these interested classes, 
 and where the fundamental social issues were part of the cus- 
 tomary discussion - whatever century's clothes the folks and 
 manners came in - was there sustained spontaneity that rendered 
 reaction to the literature genuine and vital. 
 
 Referring to an hour just spent" in English" with 
 "The Prisoner of Chillon," a young sophomore flung out to his 
 pal as he rushed to the history room: "Why don't that waiting 
 
 stunt go nowadays*?" 
 
 back 
 "Does sometimes," came^from the other fellow. "Real 
 
 stuff in the old fellowl" 
 
 "Social notivation of English literature teaching" 
 
27 
 
 refers otviously to the teacher's use of his pupils and the 
 
 materials of literature so as to educe some kind of specific 
 
 social consciousness in the hoys and girls. Desires, motives, 
 
 purposes, and so stimulated and fed with such teaching, as to 
 
 interest and aid in the intelligent development of those 
 
 powers in the growing man which are distinctly social. By 
 
 "distinctly social" is meant, of course, those aptitudes 
 
 and powers that apply to the more unclassified and personal 
 
 1 
 intercourse of human beings. Robbins lists some of those 
 
 desires, attitudes, as-cooperation, tolerance, freedom, 
 responsibility, sense of duty, initiative, the general 
 virtue of justice, and, may we not add not inadvertantly, 
 temperance. 
 
 Motivation which is distinctly social, aims, in the 
 teaching of literature, so to kindle and tend the fuses around 
 the mind of the student that his powers of inspection, retro- 
 spection, introspection, grov/ to make as continuous citcle 
 of heat and light for himself and his fellows as possible. 
 Teaching so directed would help the boy.iand girl to see and know 
 himself among his fellows. The education derived from English 
 classes of this nature would lead to"Sff iciency in controlling 
 
 1 
 Charles Robbins : "School as a Social Institution, "p. 
 40 ff. 
 
38 
 
 1 
 affairs in social intercourod' - directed by "good will, the 
 
 ■2 
 desire and endeavor to work for the common good". We would 
 
 say with Charles Rohhins that "Sociability means, or should 
 mean, more than just fondness of companionship; that it should 
 imply fitness for such companionship .... It is the found- 
 ation but not, initially, the whole structure, of human cooper- 
 ation .... and in spite of all tendencies toward isolation 
 and group segregation, the social creature must develop that 
 
 breadth of vision and depth of syuipathy which are essential 
 
 3 
 in humanizing life - and education." 
 
 The materials in the course of English literature 
 
 will be 30 chosen and administered that the natural movement 
 
 to>»ard sociability will be :lrrEoaden6dv . deepened and rendered 
 
 more intelligent. This points to "an active, conscious, and 
 
 4 
 systematic use of all the driving internal motions of youth." 
 
 in arousing ir;tere3t and furnishing contact with people." 
 
 "Subject matter" will therefore be selected and graded accord- 
 
 1 
 
 ParleET: "Methods of Teaching in High Schools, p. 17. 
 2 
 
 Ibid. 
 3 
 
 "The School as a Social Institution", pp. 39,40. 
 4 
 
 Galloway: "Use of Motives," p. 60. 
 
♦c'r;;ooi9C"ni C/:i 
 
 * ''' ; T^. • 
 
23 
 
 ing to its likely appeal to the incipient social emotions of 
 the boys and girls. More arbitrary and logical curriculum 
 dictates must go. 
 
 The chief omissions noted in the survey of the 
 
 schools 
 representatives above might be recapitulated under lack of ap- 
 
 peal to l) natural interests, 2) social emotions, 3)ethiL;al 
 
 reflection. The prevalence of pedantry, dilute and reflected 
 
 emotion, and the turmoil of confused aims, was the result. The 
 
 fundamental conception underlying^ teaching - in s uch pooiti - an- is 
 
 the popular one that all "education" is of the future^only. 
 
 In order to live in the future a pupil is held to be dead to 
 
 the present, or at best, his more natural proclivities are held 
 
 in very "safe" escoo until somehow, magic makes of him a sane 
 
 1 
 adult one day; when he may appear really, on the scene. 
 
 2 
 The"3nare of preparation" is spread laboriously 
 
 thru the length and breadth of most of our classes. " To have 
 
 laid it down that the educative process is a continuous process 
 
 1 
 
 Tha^ teachers have been so successful in finding play 
 and work devices to keep the usual semblance of order and in- 
 terest in class tooms is noteworthy oiieflLy because of the «xtr«R»e 
 resourcefulness of such teachers which this actively displays. 
 It is a question, whether to credit this success to the acumen 
 of the teachers or to the traditional school submissiveness of 
 boys .and girls. The tragedy is not lessened either way. 
 
 2 
 Addguns, Jane: "Twenty Years at Hull House, p. 88. 
 
30 
 
 of growth . having as its aim at every stage , an added capacity 
 of growth, is to o|>sr an idea in strong contrast to the preva- 
 lent ideas which influence practice. The current idea is that 
 
 or 
 education is entirely a process of preparation getting ready. 
 
 What is to be prepared for, is, of course, the responsibilities 
 
 and privileges of adult life. The youngsters are not regarded 
 
 as social members in any kind of a full and regular standing. 
 
 They are candidates on a waiting list. The idea is one of 
 
 the menacing forms of the notion of the negative and priyalive 
 
 ul 
 
 character of growth. 
 
 The mangling consequences that follow from putting 
 education on this basis are manifest. It involves loss of 
 impetus. Motive pov;er is not utilized. Young people will 
 live in the present wl^ther or not the elders try to evade the 
 fact. And the future just as future laclcs urgency and body. 
 There is in this kind of teaching, premium put on shillyshall- 
 ing and procrastination. The future prepared for is a long 
 way off; plenty of tlae will intervene before it becomes the 
 present. Why be in a hurry about getting ready for if? 
 Temptation to postpone is much increased because the present 
 
 1 
 Dei«e.y , John: "Democracy and Education" p. 63. 
 
av 
 
31 
 
 offers so many wonderful opportunities and proffers such in- 
 vitations to adventure. Natural attention and energy go to 
 
 them; and education accrues naturally aa an outcome; but it is 
 
 of 
 a lesser education than -tfea* if the full stress.^ effort had 
 
 1 
 been put upon making conditions as educative as possible. 
 
 It is the principle of education which is predomin- 
 ately responsible for the use of the adventitious motives evi- 
 dent in most of the English classes visited for this survey. 
 The stimulous residing in the situation actually confronted is 
 required. "ISducation" in this manner is not therefore growth, 
 progressively realizing present possibilities. Because the 
 need of preparation for a continually developing life is so 
 great, it is imperative that every energy be lent to making 
 the present experience as rich and significant as possible. 
 As the present merges incaneilti^^ / into the future, the future 
 is taken care of. 
 
 It is notable in what slight extent English literature 
 teaching is used to minister to the social needs of students; 
 how infeequently teachers of the "Subject" have had the social 
 
 1 
 
 Ibid. 
 2 
 
 To id., p. 65. 
 
"in 
 
 i il 
 
32 
 
 point of view. The legitiirate part which the experience 
 
 derived from English work can play in creating a common 8to± 
 
 of rich and immediate, emotional exp'";rience, is unquestionable. 
 
 1 
 And developing what Bobbit calls the "large group consciousness" 
 
 ia more possible for English than for any other high-school 
 subject, perhaps. English literature, not being used toward 
 these ends, is not slightly contributory to the growing isolation 
 into class and individual consciousness that besets society 
 today. There is no place here, perhaps, to expose the history 
 or dilectic of the increasing insulation and specialization that 
 beset us. Present-day formal school education alone, ho^n'ever, in 
 the large preponderer.ee of attention that is being given voca- 
 tional and technical studies, supplies ample evidence of the 
 reality and danger of the direction. And an increasing movement 
 for part-time and trade education, made particularly necessary 
 by our speeded-up industrial and economic life, help in the growth 
 of this alarming tendency toward individual and class exolusive- 
 ness. If not in the more evidently humanistic studies, includ- 
 ing English literature, where may we expect to get a broader and 
 richer outlook and experience that achieves somehow a view of 
 life somewhat more steady and whole? 
 
 Bobbitt, Franklin, "The Curriculum", p. 131. 
 
33. 
 
 It seena increasingly pitiable that the higher type 
 of historic sense, dealing with mental rather than physical 
 facts, and which is so largely developed, if at all, during 
 adoleserxCe, is ao awkv/ardly handled, or used not at all, in 
 making the connection between past and present and predict- 
 able future, emotionally significant to the boys and girls in 
 our schools. There is indeed no hope in Israel if the nice 
 sense for appreciating times, motives, persons, other than 
 their own can be not fostered in boys and girls. And the 
 cultivation of no other aptitude promises so richly to 
 supcly a con-noii state of knowledge and mind "large group con- 
 sciousness." 
 
 1 
 
 John Dewey's story fits here. "There is a swimming 
 
 school in a certain city where the youth are taught to 
 swim without gding into the water. They are drilled repeated- 
 ly in the separate movements necessary to swimming. One 
 yoimg man so trained, on being asked what he did when he got 
 into the water laconical" y replied "Sunk", Tven we'-e the 
 story not true it would seem to be a fable made expressly for the 
 
 "Moral Principles in Education", p,13. 
 
34, 
 
 purpose of typifying the ethical relatirnahip of our present 
 
 1 
 Saoondary Schools to Society as a whole. Our current prac- 
 tice' in literature teaching as a whole still seexaa afraid 
 or unable to supply material in"»ubjeGt matter" that elicits 
 native interest, and that affords strong food for reflection 
 upon human conduct, V»e persist in underestimating the native 
 interests, capacities for comparative study, and natural 
 sagacity of the adolescent boys and girls. Or we continue 
 lacking intelligence to find such materials, "Nature and 
 society must live in the school room, and the forms and 
 
 tools 01 learning be subordinated to the substance of exper- 
 
 2 
 ience." "A study is to be considered as a means of bringing 
 
 the pu|>il to realize the social scene of action. Thus con- 
 sidered, it gives criterion for selection of material and for 
 judgment of values. We have at present three independent 
 values set up: one of culture, another of information and 
 another of discipline. In reality, these refer only to three 
 phases of social interpretatioh. Information is genuine and 
 educative only in so far as it presents definite images and 
 conceptions of materials placed in a context of social life. 
 
 1 
 
 John Devrey: "Moral Principles in Education'; p. 31 
 2 
 
 Ibid., 31, ff. 
 
35 
 
 Discipline is genuinely educative only as it represents a 
 reaction of information into the individual's own powers, 
 so that he brings them under control for social ends. Cult- 
 ure, if it is to "be genuinely educative and not an external 
 polish or fictitious varnish, represents the vital union of 
 
 information and discipline. It marks the socialization of 
 
 1 
 the individual in his outlook upon life." Courses in English 
 
 literature study must lend themselves to the development of 
 
 a vital social spirit "by the use of methods that appeal to 
 
 sympathy and cooperation instead of to absorption, exclusive- 
 
 2 
 ness, and competition." It "becomes an all important matter 
 
 to know how we shall specifically apply our social standard 
 
 of moral value to English literature as subject matter. 
 
 Literature, no less than history, can be made to give a "locus 
 
 3 
 of imagination" thru which the pupil can remove himself from 
 
 the pressure of present, surrounding circumstances, and define 
 them somewhat. This setting, historic, or biographic possi- 
 bility for literature as subject matter, is too generally 
 
 1 
 
 John Dewey: "Moral Principles of Education," , 31, ff. 
 2 
 
 Ibid., p. 31. 
 3 
 
 lb id. , p. 38. 
 
Si: »i 
 
 -«nixc 
 
36. 
 
 treated in just a way aa to exclude from the child* a con- 
 aoiouaness (or at laaat not sofficiently to emphasize) the 
 aooial forcea and principles involved in the association of 
 men. It is quite true that pupils here are readily interested 
 in just story. But unless the "hero" and events are treated 
 in relation to the community events around them, behind or be- 
 fore them, story is the only value or interest likely to ac- 
 crue. And in what other connection, than with his favorites 
 in literature, or history, can the boy's and girl's imagina- 
 tion of social relations, ideals, times, be so readily and 
 permanently widened and deepened? 
 
 "At bottom all misconceptions of interest, whether in 
 practice or in theory, come from ignoring or excluding its 
 moving . developing naturej they bring activity to a stand- 
 still, cut up its progressive growth into a series of static 
 cross-sections. Vifhen this happens, nothing remains but to 
 identify interest with the momentary excitation an object 
 arouses. Such a relation of object and self is not only not 
 educative, but is worse than nothing. It dissipates energy 
 usually, and forme a habit of dependence upon meaningless 
 excitations, a habit moat averse to sustained thought and 
 
 endeavor. It is net enough to 
 
 catch attention, it must be held. It does not suffice 
 
37 
 
 to arouse energy, the course that energy takes, the re- 
 
 1 
 suits that it effects are the important matters. 
 
 Motives, formulated socially, and directed effect- 
 ively, require more thaxi casual reflection, introspection. And 
 self -consciousness has to enter as no pigmy. ITotives will 
 then get to malce their '^posBeDsora" more conscious of them- 
 selves and of their portents. Intelligent companionship 
 will te accompanied Toy some unembarrassed self-consciousness. 
 Monroe defines "motive", for educational purposes, as "that 
 phase of a volitional process which precedes in consciousness 
 decision or choice." Knowledge of typical and atypical situ- 
 ations that may aid in the directing of desire to decision, 
 or choice, of the most desirable impending destiny, is there- 
 fore necessary to the boy or girl. And such knowledge is 
 not got unless it is in some way emotional. Self-activity, 
 actine acceptance or rejection, so that the idea of the good 
 in relations becomes really an item of self -consciousness, 
 
 1 
 
 John Dewey: "Interest and Effort in Education," p. 90. 
 2 
 
 Cyclopedia of Education. 
 
ffioaoaasc 
 
38. 
 
 1 
 laden with concrete images, is therefore the sine qua non 
 
 of 8uoh development. Activity of this kind remains ho ''ever, 
 
 the terror by day and night, of most teachers , They are 
 
 initially apprehensive of the natural man. And by indulging 
 
 auch apprehension it has grown protean. 
 
 The bottom cause of the elaborate filibustering in moat 
 teachers' class procedure is probably the accentuated notion 
 that these youthful -aIIIs can be only wilful. Therefore the 
 hedging and hedging until everything valuable is got out of 
 range of the firebrands. 
 
 The beginning and end of sociability is in willingness of 
 course. We must be able to justify these original and terrify, 
 ing wills, and somehow aim to direct them. Talk of social 
 motivation, lessons in sociability is stupid, otherwise. 
 Ability to distinguish between willingness and willfulness 
 has to be acquired again by teachers. We must be rid of phan- 
 tom terrors that jeopardize education of the will. 
 
 1 
 
 William Hooking: "Human Nature and its Remaking", 
 p. 71. 
 
39 
 
 "Will", as the average teacher thinks rCoont it, is 
 
 unyielding 
 more or leas an obatinate, self -assert, ine; pugnaoify^bv it.5 
 
 nature. But "will exists", says Professor Hocking, "when, 
 
 and in so far as, an instinctive impulse has first to obtain 
 
 the consent of a ruling policy , before pursuing its course. 
 
 Dawning of such self-possession means the achievement of a 
 
 more or less stable ^ , policy toward incoming suggestions and 
 
 impulses. And to have some kind of stable pol icy is to have, 
 
 in the specific sense of the word, a will . And the p o licy of 
 
 a s e lf is its a c quired interpretati on of ijts own central and_ 
 
 1.2 
 necessar?/ interests ." 
 
 It is a large assumption that the human being ia 
 
 process of education has any such possibility as the policy 
 
 of himself. It is however, the whole generic question in edue- 
 
 ation. It is no longer up-to-date in educational discussions 
 
 to hold that the human being suffers only blanks and negative 
 
 1.2 
 
 "Human Nature aind its Remaking", p. 11 This account 
 of wilx maksa   for th€ fire of "the doctrine of interest." 
 Such account of will explains;' incidentally v/hy interest v/orks. 
 
40 
 
 following experience. For him "there are no such" negatives. 
 
 There are acquired cautions and discrimination s. Experience 
 
 drives the man "to think." Such thinking may be still, like 
 
 the first exeraiee of intelligence, a sub-sistting of means 
 
 under ends; hut it can take the direction of analyzing, and 
 
 making hypotheses, i.e. of induction. In the result it will, 
 
 if it can, 80 modify its plan of action as both to gain good 
 
 and evil. There is at once a beginning of sciences, and 
 
 1 
 of the economic virtues," "Oughts come, with this under- 
 
 3 
 standing, to imply conduct, based upon habits of consider a tion ." 
 
 "Consideration" then, taking thought, must give the 
 cue for progressively intelligent conduct. 
 
 There can be -btrt- little doubt feut that the case of 
 moral, social direction must center, according to our clearer 
 psychological lights, about interpretive intelligence toward 
 their milieu on the part of individuals. The scientific 
 cause of moral empire makes its way with much more avowed 
 
 1 
 "Human Nature and its Remaking," p. 157. 
 2 
 
 Ibid. , p. 91, 
 
0^ 
 
 pf 
 
 91JB e- Slid ro'l 
 
 Xol 
 
 fis>r-r'' 
 
 bQ-:. 
 
 rliiw XAff 
 
41 
 
 empiriciBin ibhan before. Individuals must come to think 
 
 out their own ways and means of moral accommodation , social 
 
 motivation. They need to know that their "whole will" 
 
 anj^ "whole will" is more valuable 4;h^n partial impulses and 
 
 wishes. Direction to an understanding of the basia nature 
 
 of the moral issue must be grasped. It is a new obligation, 
 
 we have to make it clear that moral issues arise not from 
 
 "the conflict between our impulses and another in a given mind 
 
 but from the conflidt betv/een a given impulse end the general 
 
 will, or between the separate and restricted meaning of an 
 
 impulse, and the wider meaning which, because of its human 
 
 1 
 belonging it ought to carry." 
 
 If teachers could understand this, and could get it 
 abroad that the condition that justifies any decision what- 
 ever namely, that one shall only then decide and act when he 
 has fairly interpreted his own impulses, a very considerable 
 start would be made toward intelligence in Bo>aial cooperation. 
 
 1 
 
 Hocking: "Human Nature," p. 116. 
 
, no i.r>i_^ix 
 
 i.j^. 
 
 ra«xr> frXfr-^ 
 
 f-fr^ 'ftlc.'-r*' fcrais 
 
 ':MV 
 
 r r !• !«■ 
 
 ^J U' 
 
 leve 
 
43 
 
 1, 
 Profeeaor Hocking's diacuasion of escperience as experimenta- 
 tion would not be an inappropriate sermon to teachers. There 
 reraaina no fixed type to which we are setting our boys and 
 girls; there are no half-penny moulds - ani out oon-.e the cup- 
 cakes. The "good man" for whom the hearts of fearful teach- 
 ers long is desired as ardently as ever. But we must remem- 
 ber to give youth a chance immediately, to start, howsomever, 
 being good. 
 
 Copy-plate making and education that postpones value 
 from the current hour fall thus, in disrepute. Projects, re- 
 bellicns, troubles and sins, will attend such educational tac- 
 tics, in the English room, aa elsewhere. It is sugpjested that 
 initiative, interest and skill will however, get more easily 
 into latter lives with such tactics in the high school. We 
 
 are tied in the proposition that "the work of experience only, 
 
 2 
 can be the dialectic of the will." Perhaps we can direct out 
 
 teaching in English this way. 
 
 There is a well-grounded aprrehension abroad that these 
 
 ideas for self-activity, expTrimentatlon, etc., employed in 
 
 the school, will cut young people off frott the value in the 
 
 specific historic context to which they might be better 
 
 orientated. 
 
 1 
 
 "Human Nature", chapter entitled: "The Methods of 
 Experience," 
 2 
 
 Ibid., p. 163. 
 
43 
 
 Knowledge can be sot in other than empiric form. There may 
 he all going and no direction. Must these "new ones" repeat 
 
 all our mistakes'? 
 
 Such misapprehension is too naive. Intrinsically 
 good things appeal, and fire stings if it comes too close. 
 Under a more avowedlv experimental regime he-who is-^to be 
 educated is to be no more deprived of. than coerced into, 
 association with any good which has been conserved than the 
 generations. The new generation is to be not only left 
 with, but warned with desire for choosing good institutional 
 associations for himself. There is involved here, no derth 
 of respect for or plea f or axjgiienting the major values which 
 may come from all the traditional associations in life. 
 Religion, art, the law or political status, marriage, are all 
 to be in the display, designated as means to personal satis- 
 faction. Only, special institutions are not to be clamped 
 down over the wiggling microcosm. And the goodness of in- 
 stitutions will be kept qualified by their regard of themselves 
 as in the making. \We must, as teachers, be constantly re- 
 
 minding ourselves that whatever in institutions tends at any 
 
 1 
 
 Ibid., p. 225. 
 
-S.^'-^b 
 
 b9y 
 
44. 
 time to deform human nature is to be freely subject to the 
 force of diesatisfaction naturally directed to change them*" 
 
 To let then the native wills of these students learn 
 to aocomfflodate themselves to the rich and related emotional 
 life presented thru literature is our task. To supply this 
 relishing food and indicate as inoffensively as possible the 
 healthier and happier Tvays of enjoying successive meals - to 
 and including Sunday and holiday feasts perhaps, is the under- 
 taking. We cahnot forget that "having done so much soccess- 
 fully, it appears necessary to refrain as much as possible from 
 doing more . , .To supplement and refine the stock of mind irra- 
 ges thru which the pupil seeks to gain knowledge of his own 
 
 X 
 
 and other states" is our first and last explicit duty. We 
 shall remember concurrently , in whatever connection, "the con- 
 ceit of opinion in the adolescent is not empty, that it is 
 based on readiness to assume responsibility, or on an actual 
 
 assuT.ption of responsibility in the work of mental world- 
 
 3 
 building." 
 
 To jeopardize the right of these eager and earnest young- 
 sters to make their own discoreries in morals is worse 
 
 1 
 
 Margaret Macmillant "Education Thru the Imagination" 
 p. 187 
 a 
 
 Wm. Hocking: "Human Nature and its Remaking", p. 24? 
 World^building if not of physical world-building.'" 
 
!--z-n 
 
45 
 
 than futile. It is the old nan Lack-nf -faith , who suggests 
 
 such tactics. "When representation is clear and forcible 
 
 enough, judgment is always spontaneous and original, and 
 
 1 
 quite often wise," "David having murdered Uriah, judged 
 
 h&aself -- by having the picture of his own action revealed 
 
 to him: 'The man that hath done all this shall surely 
 
 2 
 die.'" To deal carelessly or obstreperously with this 
 
 craving for power and originality of purpose is to wreck 
 
 often, not only the youthful motives, but is to cheat and 
 
 cheapen society, irreparably. 
 
 1 
 
 Margaret MacMillan: "Education fron the Imagination." 
 p. 187. 
 2 
 Ibid. 
 
<« f •I'T c ; 
 
46. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Literature, and best in the mother-tongue for 
 
 adolescents, is particularly fitted, per se, and by 
 
 the nature of studies ijov/ prevailing in most high school 
 
 (surricula, to minister to the need for social motives. 
 
 Selected psychologically, v/ith a vievr to the "nearest of 
 
 Icin", tiKiely interests of the pupils, in the 'wonderful 
 
 v/ays of man', it becomes iraraediately "real" to the boys 
 
 and girls. It is emotional, energetic, moving - as "they 
 
 are. Chosen judiciously^ technicalities are, or should be, 
 
 more at a mininiura here than in any other school "study". 
 
 Initial joy, some kinds of easy participation in events, 
 
 constituting the beginning of knov/ledge, if not of wisdom, 
 
 in 
 literature a the mother tongue takes first place as an 
 
 educational means. It can get the boys and girls in, and 
 deeply enough, in media res emotionally, to produce some- 
 what immediate a.nd continuous social consciousness. 
 History and literature stand associated here in the inate 
 readiness with which they are adaptable to the needs of 
 socialiaatlcji. They furnish more easily than any other 
 
47. 
 
 school subjects , possible "syiirpathetic identification of 
 ones ov/n destiny, if only dramatic", v/ith the outcome of 
 wider, associated , courses of events. Personal concenn 
 with the issues of these events then leads to some kind 
 of reflection upon them, A growing & meaningfull self- 
 consciousness comes to he included naturally in the evolu- 
 tion of the processes of thought. And throvigh the "removed 
 aspects" of the events of histoiy or literature there is 
 achieved in consideration of these studies the detached 
 impartiality, - as v/ell as intimate partiality - implied in 
 the participating in specific events. Literature, because of the 
 didactic data bound up with it, because of its more casual 
 nature, can, more readily even than histoiy-study, contribufe 
 in developing judgmants that are neither too hot or too 
 cold. There can be thru literature, greater ease in getting 
 in and keeping out of the data. 'The social sympathies that 
 
 come thru a v/idening of the area of vision beyond immediate 
 
 ♦2 
 
 and direct interests' may be catered to , par excellence , by 
 
 the galaxy of life embodied in literature. 
 
 MacMurry puts it that accordingly, in literature study. 
 
 ♦1 
 
 John Dewey: "Democracy and Education", p, l72 
 
 *2 
 
 John Dewey: "Democracy and Education", p, 175 
 
 ♦s 
 
 "Method of the Recitation", p. 500, 
 
iO 
 
48 
 
 the pupils are "called upon to do more thinking, to trace 
 out and attec^pt explanation of casual relations, to raise 
 questions themselves and interpret facts "by their relations" 
 as the increasing data of literature accwaulates, 
 'Definte comparisons are set up, and points of resemlDlance 
 
 and difference are noted, upon which some classification can 
 
 ♦1 
 
 be founded, ' Such literature may supply more closely con- 
 tingent than is elsewhere sp likely or easy, the two requi- 
 sites for reflective thinking. It may yield richly, ideas 
 of the nature of life, and that with unusual vividness, and 
 the casual intimate nature of these ideas will lead more or 
 less directly to the comparative work of reflective thinking. 
 Literature may thus supply moral, social, exercize, in "both 
 simple and complex ranges of human experience. 
 
 The fundamental aims of the high school studies accord- 
 ing to Parker, are training for "good will, social efficiency, 
 and harmless enjoyment." The term social motiv&tlon in 
 connection with English literature teaching, aims to cover 
 in a way, all of these. The particular point of emphasis 
 
 ♦l 
 
 Ibid. 
 
 "Methods of Teaching in High Schools", p. 5, 
 
33 
 
49. 
 
 in this paper is that the third aim is not sufficient. It 
 is almost the only aim stressed \jy- Parker and other writers 
 and teachers. It is no doutt a high and proper aim to be 
 included, but is it not alone sufficient. Both theoi^-- and 
 practice, concurrently, tend to regard and practise it 
 almost exclusively. Employed alone it is seen to be in- 
 herently inefiicient. It fails to satisfy even as arause- 
 ment, soon. It tends to raalce a "literature study" at best, 
 pastime. And more serious occupation with it, attempted 
 later, or at long intervals, savors of dillitantisn; or 
 the teacher wheedles the class into "more serious occupation." 
 
 Both pastime and "more serious occupation" become obviously 
 
 ♦l 
 
 thin and verbal under such regime. It is in this respect 
 
 like initial instinctive action. The saiae is true of 
 equally evanescent "like "which ia necessarily associated here. 
 In either case more serious and conflict values go unnoticed. 
 
 ♦2 
 
 Regarding enjoym nt as "contemplative play", we are 
 
 confronted v/ith a grave problem in stating this "hamaess 
 enjoyment" as tJie only or chief aim in English literature 
 
 >1 
 
 At its best the exclusive aim of "hanaless enjoy- 
 ment" provides experience which is for the moment only: is 
 merely passing, is not in any v/ay valuated. 
 
 f2 
 
 Thomdyke: "Aesthetic Emotions" - in Teacher's 
 College record 1901. 
 
ilfiirps 
 
50 
 
 classes. Thorndyke brings out in his essay the distinction 
 betv/een enjoyment of "real" and "peeudo" emotions in the 
 appreciation of literature, 'Real emotions are such feel- 
 ings as lead us to appreciate acts appropriate to the situa- 
 tion if real. The countryman at the theatre who wants to 
 
 climb on the stage and knock dovm the vilMn in the play 
 
 ♦2 
 
 offers an example,* Such kind of emotional reaction to 
 
 literature is quite evidently ruled out, or overlooked by 
 "harmless enjoyment" as sole criterion for appreciation. 
 The experiences to include such reactions could be neither 
 harmless nor "enjoyable" alv^ays, "Pseudo emotions are such 
 feelings as do not lead us to acts appropriate to the situa- 
 tion if real,* It is the nature of these emotions to 
 lack real pain or effort. It is these emotions which supply 
 "innocent pleasure". And it is these which Parker and most 
 practitioners have in mind v/hen they indicate "emotion", 
 or "harmless enjoyment" as the end of literature "study", 
 
 "Just as the child finds the acts and ideas that excite 
 
 ♦4 
 
 without frightening, or stimulate without effort", so v/riters 
 
 *1 
 
 Ibid, 
 
 ♦2 
 
 Thorndyke: ibid. Ibid, 
 
 +4 
 
 Parker; -ffiethods of Teaching in High Schools, p,249 
 
51 
 
 and "teachers" find means of rjresentation v/liich "filter 
 off the joy of conflict from its tremors, the sweet of 
 
 sympathy from the bitter, .. .the zest of interest from its 
 
 ♦1 ' • •■   ■' 
 
 strain and effort." 
 
 Those who advocate exercize of the pseudo - emotions 
 as the chief end in literature study, say we may play on, 
 play on thus, happily, and so, prosperously, within certain 
 limits. The wiser of these remind us 'that we are not 
 saving our souls or remodeling our minds by the game.' 
 The present paper, v/hile discouraging in no way the advisa- 
 bility of such aim as one desirable for literature teaching, 
 claims that the real emotions are quite as properly, and 
 perhaps more pertinently for society, the goals of the 
 English teacher's endeavor. The needs of societj' crj- for 
 
 such endeavor, and honest psychological teaching of the 
 
 ♦3 
 
 better sort goes naturally toward it. The part which 
 
 exclusively "art for art's sake" literature-teaching has had 
 
 in the breeding of the noxioiis fanciful attitudes toward 
 
   4 
 life, the "feeble idealisms" that infest and overlay our 
 
 ♦1 
 
 Ibid. 
 
 *2 
 
 Ibid., p. 50. 
 
 ^ See discussion of the better type of classes in 
 Survey, Part I, above. 
 
 * Jane Addams: "Devil-baliy at Hulx House; Atlantic 
 monthly, Oct, 1916, 
 
r rrtr 
 
 -q 
 
 .j5 
 
52. 
 
 social outlook today, has not been reckoned. The 
 suggestion may be ventured that it is considerable. In 
 kind, there is, of course, nothing more deadly. 
 
 ♦1 i-S 
 
 Training in "good will" and "social efficiency" 
 claimed here to be at least equally with sheer enjoyment, 
 proper aims of literature teaching, can be got only 
 thru some kind of real, thougli vicarious, experience. The 
 ability of literature to supply this experience has been 
 discussed above. But also the kind of vicarious experience 
 which does not bring in its train some sort of reflective 
 thinking has been fairly decapitated, as nigh valueless - 
 except to pass the time. The coupling of vicarious exper- 
 ience and reflection, motive-study and problem-solving, 
 in cahoots, in the English course, is necessary and rare. 
 Any of these motives taken alone limps, but in company 
 each takes increased life. Intelligent sjnapathi'- ajid ini- 
 tktive can be developed by literature in the boy and girl 
 only ly such coupling of activity in its teaching and study. 
 And without sj'-iiipathy and initiative there is grown neither 
 "good will" nor "social efficiency". The "handy" and easy 
 
 *1 and 2 
 
 Ibid. Parker, above. 
 
53. 
 
 ability of English literature study to develop inductive 
 thinking "as if by chance" is not to be denied. The wealth, 
 variety, and more iuimediate interest of "juet English" as 
 one class of sophomore boys, chuckling, called it, is apparent. 
 The boys were getting substantial ind^jctive training "un- 
 beknownst" in a well socialized and enjoyable English olass- 
 period. 
 
 The study of the nature of problem-solving shows that 
 it involves the evaluation of many suggestions. There muat 
 be the store of fertile suggestions and the trial and 
 error practice in evaluating them. The richness and varie"^ 
 of the content of literature could hardly be surpassed 
 
 for this rurpose. Summary of suggestions for guiding re- 
 
 +1 
 fleet ive thinking are' given by Parker. 
 
 "To stimulate and assist pupils in carrying on 
 reflective thinking the teacher should 
 
 lo Get them to define the problem at issue and 
 keep it clearly in mind, 
 
 II. Get them to recall as many related ideas as 
 possible by encouraging tham. 
 
 1, To analize the situation and 
 
 2. To formul?vte definite hypotheses and to 
 recall general rules or principles that may apply. 
 
 1 
 
 "Methods of Teaching in High Schools", p, 199. 
 
54 
 
 III. Get them to evaluate carefully each 
 suggestion lay encouraging thera, 
 
 1, To maintain an attitude of unbiased, 
 suspended judgment or conclusion, 
 
 2, To criticize each suggestion, 
 
 3« To be systematic in selecting and 
 rejecting suggestions, and 
 4, To verify concxusions, 
 IV. Get them to o rganize their material so as 
 to aid tn the process of thinking by encouraging them, 
 
 1. To "taice stock" from time to time, 
 
 2. To use methods of tabulation and graphic 
 expression, and 
 
 3. To express concisely the tentative con- 
 clusions reached from time to tijne during the 
 
 *1 
 inquiry, " 
 
 The interpretation of literature can at its best do 
 
 this well; at its v/orst, try soraehow to do it. 
 
 It is, of course, preposterous to attempt such 
 
 inductive methods, and try simultaneously to ••cover" 
 
 the mass of pieces of literature suggested by the 
 
 Ibid. 
 
oone 
 
55 
 
 State Boards, syllatco, etc. There is no rushing this 
 more thoughtful kind of teaching - and content nust often 
 be sacrificed to :uethod. 
 
 It has been inplied in the discussion above and in 
 the analysis of //ill in Part III foregoing, that the 
 safer and saner kind of 'moral' or ethical 'instruction' 
 was boiind up in the continuous and progressive experience 
 got thara the socialized study of literature. Such 
 social direction, if not "moral instruction" , is recognized 
 immediately in its soundest and broadest aspects, as the 
 final end of all high school teaching. It is the hub. 
 
 And the contention here is that English literature 
 studj can supply as straight and soundly connected spoke 
 to the hub as any study. Most richly and unir.terpretively 
 used it may be said that such literature study can be the 
 identical wood of the hub. Appreciation follows nojcmally 
 upon seeing; it can be developed surely only by training 
 to see. The problem of moral education in the schools 
 
o.t 
 
56 
 
 i3 one with the prolaleni of securing knowledge - the 
 
 knowledge connected with the syateiTi of impulses and 
 
 ♦1 
 
 haToits, ' 
 
 "Awakening and strengthening the love of right 
 means the training pupils to think of human life, more 
 particularly their ovra life, in terms of cause and 
 effect; more specifically, trainin;;^ then to discover 
 in the case of any act under consideration xdvxt v/ill 
 be its direct and indirect effects, present and re- 
 mote, upon the happiness and character of the persons 
 involved in it; and (2) interesting them in these 
 effects not merely through an abstract knowledge of 
 their existence, but also through the development of 
 the pov/er to realize what they actually mean through 
 the instilling of confidence in the possibility of 
 success, and through the creation of an insight into 
 the facts vmich arouse a^aotions of admiration and of 
 gratitude'.' Morality is felt to be then 'not some- 
 thing alien from our will, a burden imposed from with- 
 out. It is felt to be the expression of our deepest 
 and most perraanent desires. Right-doing is that 
 
 *1 
 
 John Dewey: "Democracy and Education, p. 413 
 
57 
 
 which appeals to the most deeply rooted adrairations, 
 which realizes arabition to be strong of will and 
 to think well of one's self, which satisfies the 
 
 lovefof fair play, and the craving to be loyal and 
 
 ♦1 
 
 unselfish.   
 
 ' Knov/led^e of d^'-namite is as essential to the chemist 
 
 as to the safe-cracker: it is by each knit into connection 
 
 with different aims and habits - and thus carries a different 
 
 ♦2 
 social import,' There can be no doubting the dynamite- 
 
 knov/ledge and direction for its aim, possible to be got 
 thru interpretation of the motives in "King Lear" or the 
 social justice in "A Tale of Two Cities", Realistic 
 interpretation here will be effective moral, social, tinder. 
 
 To deny that the mass of inchoate desires and aspira- 
 tions of the adolescent can be raised to a clearer conscious- 
 ness of their end, can be strengthened and steadied, and 
 helped to obtain full control of the will » thru the inspira- 
 tion and discipline of interpretation" of literature* is never 
 
 to have is 
 
 to have been » or/taught such a one - or/to have forgotten. 
 
 Thru such stady, means can certainly be discovered by v/hich 
 
 Sharp: "Education for character", p. 187 
 
 Sharp: "Education for Character", p,185, 2 Ibid, 
 
oo 
 
 the crowding desires can lae more completely realized. 
 And there can Toe revealed to the pupil the fact that 
 it is "precisely the demands of the moral law" that are 
 
 calculated to satisfy the most permanent and fundamental 
 
 *1 
 
 elements of his nature" In addition - getting all this 
 
 thru example, association, as it is got thru literaturei 
 is irristalDle. Such work will be distrusted or mistrusted 
 only by those confirmed some v/ay in Galvini3:ri or "art for 
 art's sa2<e". 
 
 It is quite in ICGcping v/ith the richness of the 
 material of English literature and v/ith the complexity of 
 demands for English work to suggest the rearrangement of 
 courses 4n such way as to leave certain class-periods the 
 time necessary for interpretive, social motivations 
 Acquiring ai:lll in expression, sn.ie cursory, sheerly pleasur- 
 able enjoyment, some learning to interpret language-syubols, 
 takes part of at least some Snglish periods. The disasters 
 accompanying too much attempt in miscellanegus directions 
 was instanced in the survey of Part I. Because such social 
 direction as is suggested here^, is of one piece with the 
 "teaching of literature" really, there is defensible arguinent 
 for segregating and arranging ISnglish classes so th;it the 
 
 *1 
 
 Sharp: "Sducation for character, p. 189. 
 
of 
 possiDility of more painstaking interprstation/literature 
 
 'oe less likely lost. It is soinewhat ardently recosir.i ended 
 
 that great freedora in choice of jnaterial be left the 
 
 (judicious I) teacher, and that special classes "be more 
 
 frequent. Special days for interpretation can of course "be 
 
 arranged ty the teacher with alniost any old regime. This 
 
 might aeoiii however, hardly so effective as constituting 
 
 certain classes in "oiographj'- ox the study of (not "instruction 
 
 in") conduct. Such classes would articulate aoout the 
 
 interpretation of somehow great litsi*ature. 
 
 It is urged in this paper however, that such specially 
 
 aimed classes i.e. in "biography, "control of conduct", etc., 
 
 "be given not as disjoined, "spasLal" courses, as for instance, 
 
 hygiene and landscape gardening might "be specially designated - 
 
 Taut "be given as part of the "English" work - he only specified 
 
 days for considering certain aspects in iCnglish stud^/-. In 
 
 this v/aci'' there is rin tendency to set these class-periods 
 
 *1 
 apart, as distinctive, "moral coux-ses" . Prank Chapman Sharp 
 
 offers suggestions that a class devoted exclusively to the 
 
 study of biography be supplied for high school fresiiraan, and 
 
 a course in the study of "conteaporal^'■ social progress" 
 
 •1 
 
 "Education for Charactea:'' 
 
 Ibid. 
 
for sophOKiores. This is virtually the not obvio-asly 
 done in many of the Taetter high schools in conn(5ction v/ith 
 the English course, now. The detailed work on these 
 matters suggested Iqy the completed special courses designed 
 t^ Sharp is not of course included under such v/ork m 
 English. It miglit lae approximated hoy/ever were more 
 time and teachers allotted for English, 
 
61, 
 
 V. 
 
 Spencer thruat directly: 
 
 says he, 
 
 "That which bur school courses leave almost en- 
 tirely out and we thus find to be that which niost 
 nearly concerns the huaineas of life. All our in- 
 duetriea", and, v/e may add, most of our arts, "would 
 cease, were it not for that information which men 
 begin to acquire as they best may after their education 
 is said to be finished. And were it not for this 
 information that has been from age to age accum.ulated 
 and spread by unofficial means, these industries (and 
 arts) would never have existed. That increasing 
 acquaintance with the la^v of phenomena which has through 
 Bucceacive ages enabled ua to subjugate nature to our 
 needs, and in these days gives the common laborer 
 coniforts which a fsj? centuries ago kings could not 
 purchase, is scarcely in any degree owed to the 
 appointed means of instructing our youth. The vital 
 knowledge - that by which we have grown as a nation 
 to v;hat we are, and which now underlies our whole 
 existence - is a knowledge that has got itself taught 
 in nooks and corners while the ordained agencies for 
 teaching have been mumbling little else but dead 
 formulas," 
 
 To give Spencer more cause for satisfaction the following 
 
 social motivation of some English literature work, in 
 
 accordance with the principles suggested in the foregoing 
 
 papers, is suggested. 
 
 After literature having in some degree great (i.e. 
 
 pertinent and humanly significant) conduct embodied in it. 
 
62 
 
 ♦1 
 
 has been selected and placed pferc h ologically , in the 
 
 course of study, 27iethod of administering it which sliall 
 aid most efficaciously in getting the values connected up 
 with the boys and girls, becomes the chief concern. 
 
 There are any number of general ijiethods for attacking 
 the job 30 as to mere than likely get the socialized 
 result harped on ibreTiously, . The old question and 
 ansv/er,and stark "recitation" methods are of course ruled 
 out, Socratic dialoguing is perhaps the best explicit 
 method - but is markedly hard to administer from the 
 teachers scanty store of tii.ie, and alack-and-a-day, of 
 associated reflective recall. The near-Socratic discussions 
 that the better-intentioned teachers manage are perhaps 
 the next best way of driving home the reflective end of 
 the business. Dramatization, however crude, special reports 
 by the class, special readings, mutually planned and 
 executed exhibits of problems arising from the suggestion 
 
 ^1 
 
 For f ine ,type material, and some discussion 
 of social mot ivaticn in connsction more especially with 
 curriculum-making^ see the first half year sophomore 
 poetxy course .outlined in the University-School prospectus 
 in 1917. A socially alive class subjected to that course, 
 v/ith associated reading, excursions , etc , is likely never 
 to get over its social and moral tug. 
 
63 
 
 in any piece of literature under consideration. are all 
 
 ♦I 
 
 good, tend to oe sufficiently oTDjective and live. And 
 
 the fundaiaental appeal to the senses must not "be minimized 
 as the opening wedge to appreciation and understanding of 
 the literature content. 
 
 The use of excursion, on foot or otherwise moving 
 to different physical localities and scenes, may "be made 
 remarlca-Qly valuable, not only in the experience and reflect- 
 ion derived from the excursions themselves, "but in the 
 increased interest and respect paid authors and books, v/hen 
 it is seen that such books are in reality sQmebod;i'''a ex- 
 perience got clapped into pages soLiehov/, An excursion 
 of first teira sophomore boys and girls who went v/ith the 
 eyes and ears of poets - previously explained and deiiion- 
 strated as particxilarly acute seeing eyes and hearing ears - 
 to San 3'r;inci3co's Italian settlement on Telegraph Hill - 
 supplied not only new and rich objective evidences of life 
 and loosened the struggling adolescent Sj.inpathies somewhat, 
 
 *l 
 
 The undoctored bath in the stuff, of particularly 
 emotionally-appealing, short selection is not overlooked 
 here. It is the more obvious and likely v/ay to get kinds 
 of sheer enjoyment and some general orientation. Specific 
 recomiendati ^n of this procedure is precarious however, 
 because of its success being boiind so closely v/ith the 
 personality of the teacher and temper .and mood oT the^ 
 clas's. 
 
"but sot a nev/ belief in, and respect for, ijoets' "business. 
 The undidactic, "brotherly" discussion following the 
 trip attested this, and this one of sixteen original 
 poems Y/ritten about the trip, proved it to the unbelieving 
 teach :^r: 
 
 The Toiler 
 
   ■■■I !■ ■^^**— »^i^ 
 
 "There stands a figure 
 There v/here the belts 
 Flap back and forth; 
 A sound is in his ears 
 As of a deep sea roaring; 
 An^l he hears 
 Above the v/elp 
 Of the unraerciful roar 
 The cries of his brothers 
 And his sisters 
 Who are hungry 
 Patient he stands, 
 Bver in fear - 
 Lest he last not till tonorrovr." 
 
 Moving picture and the stage drama are used too little to 
 
 of literature 
 effect siiuilar orlentatlcnand associatior/'-'fi'th life. 
 
 Typical good lesson exercises v/ith certainportions 
 of literature given here can most effectively instance the 
 more concrete application of the principles of social motivation 
 to English literature teaching. 
 
 An "examination" of the following nature "popped" on 
 a high sophomore class after the reading and discussion of 
 of representatively good American poems —presented to the 
 
 Tl 
 
 This poem was done by a boy who had taken no 
 apparent interest in the more technical -s-ork dons by the 
 
 olass before this time. 
 
uy 
 
 Class "by authors, one in the hands of each memlDer of the 
 
 class,- v/ould summarize in a way some of thechief lines 
 
 of value enipliasized in the previous readings and discusaions. 
 
 gjcaiiiination on Last Mon tli' s Discussions , 
 
 I. 
 
 State briefly chief difference "between a person who 
 
 acts on the idea that - 
 
 "God knows 't were "better to he deep 
 Pillowed in silk and scented down 
 
 But I've a rendezvous v/ith Death 
 At midnight in sorae flaming town 
 V/hen Spring trips forth again this year. 
 
 I shall not fail that rendezvous," 
 
 Alan Seeger. 
 
 and the one of us who 
 
 (a) Refused to advertise the unpop;il;.r local election 
 last month, 
 
 (b) Tells smutty stories 
 
 (c) Laughs at a ra.gged, or odd-appearing person, 
 
 (d) Makes fun of a person who prays'. 
 
 ♦l 
 
 Such an exaiaination was given such a class 
 to the ajnazement and delight of "both pupils (in the 
 interest of writing it) and teacher (in the evidences of inteUigSEe 
 the papers shov/ed. 
 
i,"-X' 
 
II. 
 
 List the outstanding qualities of character and 
 disposition of each of the follov;in£j men, and state 
 underneath \Thich of them you thinlc would make the 
 "best (a) lover (Id) husliand (c) friend (d) governor. 
 In short paragraphs make clerxr the recisons for your 
 choice, 
 
 III. 
 
 What reasons would he yours pro and con for in- 
 cluding Y/alt V/hitraan?© "Heroes" in a selection 
 of poems for our "social poetxy" course? State fully. 
 
 To conclude the 3rd yearb wor]^ in Snglish - interest 
 can he marshalled in regard to comparative values by the 
 discussion of the raiaon d'etre of good and poor 
 "literature". The question of a junior girl suggests the 
 timliness of this. "^ . "What makes the h;iro in that 
 
 hook less interesting even than Godfrey?" 
 
 The differences in appeal of the characters in the 
 novel last read in class and novels or other stories read 
 
 ♦l 
 
 A true and actual High School question, once 
 put to me, 
 
 *2 
 
 "His Hour" "by J^linor Glynn. The teacher discovered 
 the girl reading it in asse.ihly-perlod and asked to "borrow it 
 and read it too. It was gladly loaned. It is exclusively 
 prolonged and unas3ociated, vivid sex apioeal, 
 ♦3 
 
 Godfrey Cass in "niliot'a "Silaa Marijer". 
 
67 
 
 concurrently outside of class, jnight make a good starting 
 point for discussion of relative v/orths in character 
 and conduct. Moi'e or less thoughtful grading of these 
 values might te inticed loy suggesting the construction of 
 imaginaiy Tdo ok- shelves, along the front class-room v/all, 
 or at each of the pupil's home , v/hereon hooks could 
 he put, on lov/er or higher shelves according to their 
 merit. The class 'and teacher might work out hy induction 
 a reasonalDle and inc3.usive criterion of value, such as 
 the following. 
 
 The •• scale" could he used also to focus thought on 
 values in plays, short stories, movies 
 
 The degree in which a piece of writing answers to the 
 following requirements determines its degree of continuous 
 value, its trueness to life - and its place on our shelves: 
 
 1, Does it tend not to dehase .the a ffections ; 
 deaden the c onscience ; v/eaken the }y_i,l l ? 
 
 2, Are emotions aroused ty it that "benefit oneself 
 and ones neighbor? 
 
 ♦l 
 
 Basic discussion of principles of literature 
 in V/inchester's "Principles of Litei'aiy Ci'iticisra" used here. 
 
68 
 
 3. Is the emotion just and proper i.e. has it sufficient 
 cause for it? 
 
 4. Is the emotion vivid and pov/erful ? 
 
 5. Is the emotion continuou s an d steady ? 
 
 6. Kas the emotion roused in the reader ranft-e and 
 variety? 
 
 7. Are concrete olsject s used, thru which to make 
 the emotional Jippeal? 
 
 8. Is the imagination of the reader roused? 
 
 9. Is the material presented in adequate and appro- 
 priate form? (This is of course to "be discussed in only 
 the simplest and most o"bvious vmys) 
 
 The cry from teachers that such exercize as the above 
 is too complex and comprehensive ,is no argument for not 
 adapting such a meth od to the exten-c it can be adapted and 
 used ,in the case of individual cases and classes. 
 
 The objection that answers to some of the above questions 
 are bound to be arbitai^" and somev/hat genera^l does not in- 
 validate the scheme or the use of it. Anything so 
 
thought-provoking, and somev/hat of the nature of a standard^ 
 
 must be arbitary and incomplete. 
 
 The exercize in v/orkini; out such a criterion inductively, 
 
 and using it sutsequently would cater par excellence to 
 
 socialized reflection.^ A first day's lesson with tlie 
 
 first half of Browning's •«% Last Duchees" in eenicr English 
 
 may suggest the use of the method further: 
 
 "LIY LAST DUCHESS 
 
 That's my last Duchess painted on the v/all, 
 
 Looking as if she were alive. I call 
 
 That piece a wonder, nov;: Tra Pandolf '3 hands 
 
 V/orked "busily a day, and there she stands, 
 
 Will't please you sit and look at her? I said 
 
 "Px-a Pandolf" by design, for never read 
 
 Strangers like you that pictured cotmtenance, 
 
 The depth and pas: ion of its earnest glance. 
 
 But to myself they turned (since none puts ty 
 
 The curtain I have dravm for you, hut I) 
 
 And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst, 
 
 Hqv/ such a glance ceme there; so, not the first 
 
 Are you to turn and ask thus. Sir, 'twas not 
 
 Ker hus"band's presence only, called that spot 
 
 Of joy into the Duchess' cheek: perhaps 
 
 Fra Pandolf chanced to say "Her mantle laps 
 
 Over Xi:y lady's v/riat too much," or "Paint 
 
 Must never hope to reproduce the faint 
 
 Half-flush that dies along her throat:" such stuff 
 
 Was coui-tesy, she thought, and cause enough 
 
 For calling up that spot of joy. She had 
 
 A heart - how shall I say? - too soon made glad, 
 
 Too easily impressed; she liked whate'er 
 
 She looked on, and her looks v/ent everj'where. 
 
 Sir, 'twas all onel ISy favor at her "breast. 
 
 The dropping of the daylight in the West, 
 
 The "bough of cherries som- officious fool 
 
 Broke in the orchard for her, the v/hite mule 
 
 She rode v/ith round the terrace - all and each 
 
 Would draw from her alike the approving speech, 
 
 Or "blush, at least. She thanked men, - good' but thanked 
 
 Somehow - I know not how - as if she ranked 
 
 I'iy gift of a nine-hundred-years-old mme 
 
 With anybody's gift." ..... 
 
rffc 
 
70 
 
 Method - Reading and study of the poera in class - 
 ITo specific analytic assignedent first for preparation out- 
 side of class, 
 
 (1) Dreanatic setting and likely antecedent details of 
 the action pictured vividly to the class "by teacher, sense 
 attractions of the life of royalty in Venice t-.t that time 
 stressed. Teacher should attenpt to make the sexise approach 
 veay vivid ty use of color, sight, soixnd, sraell, v/ords, 
 
 (2) Reading of the poem to the class ty a student who 
 has "been specially prepared, or "by teacher. ( Poem to 'ce in 
 fee hands of^ each s tud ent as a "text " ) , 
 
 (3) Quick review of the place and position of the 
 4 characters in the stoxj'-. 
 
 (4) Rereading of the poem ty teacher, more slowly this 
 time, with an effort to have understanding of action and 
 talking clear, A fe\v questions during the reading -ftiis time, 
 can clear up confusion of understanding ahout these details, 
 
 (5) The following suggestions can then reirtalize the 
 meaning, 
 
 (a) Yfliat pictures in addition to the ones in the 
 Duke»s studio do v/e see here? {{%) The Duchess "being 
 painted "by Pra Pandolf), Hov/ does the Duke appreciate 
 these pictures? How do you know? 
 
71 
 
 ("Her mantle laps 
 
 Over Liy lady's v/rist too much", etc, 
 
 "The "bougli of cherries some officious fool 
 Broke in the orchard for her,") 
 
 (To) Vi/hat indications of disposition and 
 
 character of the Duke have vie so far? (E^ctreiae and 
 
 lir.iited sensuousness, jealousy, sarcs^sm, revenge, 
 
 pride in the power of possession, etc.) 
 
 (c) Of the Duchess? (Beauty, sentiveness, 
 interestedneas, kindliness, inate happiness, lack of 
 pride in possession, etc.) 
 
 (d) What que-lities had the tv;o in conmion? 
 (Sensitiveness and heauty, etc.) Hoy/ did these 
 qualities differ as they grev; up in them? Why perhaps? 
 
 (e) Do you suppose the Duchess regretted her 
 marriage? Wliat nay have been sowe of the less ohvious 
 causes for it? 
 
 (f) Y/hy did not the Duchess behave as the Duke 
 wished? (This question should get sufficient "rise" 
 f*ora the students to prove the vicariousness of their 
 experience here). 
 
 (g) Supposing it to have been a "love-match" at 
 first, suggest some ways v/hereby the Duchess might have 
 fovind out more about the Duke's disposition before she 
 
married him, (Ooserving his attitude toward infer- 
 iors, superiors, his ov;n and her friends - and es- 
 pecially toward her admirers, etc.) 
 
 (h) The DuJse and Duchess are no longeijalive 
 today perhaps? Any in our neighlDorhood? Have we one 
 in this room? 
 
 Such handling calls for carefully modulated - now 
 fast, now slow, directing, it ma;/ be olDjected. It must be 
 handled sensitively, Y/ork with the best poetry, that really 
 HfliOtlvatea socially, cannot but necessitate ta.ct, and 
 considerable sprightliness in method. 
 
;V A wU; 
 
73 
 
 VI. 
 
 The sxiTvey with which this investigation is first con- 
 cerned testifies to the inadequate - pedantic, scholarly and 
 dilute - methods^being used in most of the English literature 
 teaching. It displays the inability of such teaching to 
 hold the interest, or to aid the thoughtful development ^of 
 the high school pupils. The laclc on the part of these 
 students , older grown, of willingness, intelligence wherewith 
 to cooperate originally in group relation^jis an open scandal 
 in our present society. Social motivation — the appeal thru 
 fundamentally natural interests of the boys and girls to 
 thoughtful, reflective, social consciousness, is suggested 
 as a partial renedy or substitute. 
 
 The adolescent is peculiarly ready psychologically, for 
 such education. The "nodern age" is uniquely susceptible to 
 such education. "Among the extremely few respects in which 
 human nature shows unquestionable growth, we must include the 
 degree and range of self -consciousness. The gradual develop- 
 ment of psychology as a science, and the persistant advance 
 of the subjective or introspective element in literature and 
 
Ui^lii^ .t 
 
74 
 
 other fine arts, are tokens of this change ... To "be human 
 
 is to be self-conscious; and to be self-conscious is to 
 
 bring onets self, however slowly, into the sphere of history 
 
 1 
 and art, as an object to be judged, altered, and improved." 
 
 Literature, especially in the mother- tongue, is particularly 
 
 adaptable for use as means to such an end. And there is no 
 
 II 
 
 Hcdllid of ways in which the rich and varied content of English 
 
 literature may be so applied. 
 
 Emile Boutroux formulates the "persistant problem," at 
 
 the same time indicating in general terms the nature of 
 
 this social method, that we must regard as essential: 
 
 "There is one danger which, unless I am 
 mistaken, is a constant raenace to school teaching 
 as compared with the instruction the child re- 
 ceives in the family or the outer v/orld: the 
 pupils look upon it as something abstract and 
 artificial, bearing no relation to realities, 
 and therefore without any practical value or 
 genuine interest to themselves. ... School 
 exercises do not constitute artificial gymnastics 
 for the memory or imagination, practised with a 
 view to examinations, but .. are made up of the 
 best and purest elements that men have yet dis- 
 covered for the purpose of raising to its highest 
 point the dignity and power, beauty and greatness 
 of human life; .. the objects of teaching, when 
 set forth in their true light, instead of being 
 repulsive or unattractive, axe really of the 
 deepest and most universal interest imaginable. 
 
 William Hocking: "Human Nature and its Remaking^," p. 3. 
 
75 
 
 De te ... Fabula narratur ; "Thou- thyself art the 
 sutject- matter of this discourse," is what the 
 master toth can and ought to make his pupil feel 
 with reference to everything he teaches. 
 
 "Llore than this, I do not thihk that the 
 school, however excellent it he, should take 
 unreserved possession of the human being, and 
 claim to set up rules and regulations for the 
 entire sphere of the intellect and soul. I 
 "believe in the reality and inviolability of 
 mind and conscience, and, in these lectures, 
 I appeal to this autonomous part or element 
 of the soul, to prompt and stimulate it to 
 true being and self -development, to the living 
 of its own life amid all tha influences legiti- 
 mately exercised over us by clever and experienced 
 masters. 
 
 "... Nowadays, the scientific term, pedagogy, 
 is continually being used to replace the old word, 
 education. No great harm is done if it really 
 is education, and nothing more, that is meant by 
 the v«rord pedagogy. ...We ought to reject two opposing 
 doctrines, alike exclusive and inadequate. 
 
 "The first is one v/hich, under the pretence 
 that will and intelligence are two distinct 
 faculties, looks on the education of the will 
 as sufficient unt4 itself, and depreciates the 
 role of intelligence, knowledge, and reflection, 
 in the formation of the human being. 
 
 "... Do away with thought, and what will 
 be left, under the najne of will, except a blind 
 force? And what can Ibhe education of such a 
 force be, except a kind of mechanical training, 
 unworthy of man? "The very principle of ethics," 
 said Pascal, "lies in the effort to think well." 
 
 "On the other hand, however, it is quite true 
 that scientific exactness and mere amount of 
 knowledge are anything but sufficient to give 
 an impulse to the will and determine it in the 
 direction of the good. Such knowledge even 
 
76 
 
 is not all that ia needed to make a man truly 
 intelligent. To say that it is possihle to 
 set everything down in formulae, and reduce 
 education, even instruction, to a mere com- 
 municatioii and realization of these formulae, 
 is to subject .: man to an intellectual com- 
 pulsion no less oppressive than a mechanical 
 one. In the f irst-nentioned quotation, Pascal 
 did not use the word "know," he used the word 
 "think." 
 
 ".. Sven if the sum total of knowledge, 
 strictly so-called, ia , speaking generally, 
 ineffectual over the power of will and self- 
 determination, which is the principle of human 
 activity, it is not the same with the quality 
 of the very mind and intellect which acquires 
 and assimiilates knowledge. Instead of being 
 able to do without thought as thus interpreted, 
 true morality takes thought for granted. 
 Morality implies choice, discernment, delicacy, 
 lofty ideas and character; and all these con- 
 ditions presuppose the participation of the 
 intellect, as well as of the will; they depend 
 on the kind and degree of intellectual culture. 
 
 "Education, in its true and complete meaning, 
 is not the acquisition of any particular habit 
 or knowledge, but rather the cultivation of the 
 human being, with all his physical, intellectual, 
 and moral powers; it is not the confiscation of 
 his freedom for the benefit of a machine, hov/- 
 ever scientific and powerful this latter be 
 regarded; it is the development of this very 
 freedom itself. The task of the educator is 
 a strange one: to act on mind and conscience in 
 such a way as to render them capable of thinking 
 and judging, of themselves; to. determine initative, 
 arouse spontaneity, and fashion human beings into 
 freedom " * 
 
 ■£mile Boutroux, "Education and Ethics," Preface, 
 pp. v-x. 
 
77 
 
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S8 
 
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?8 
 
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 I 
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