A brief course in the teaching process

CHAPTER II
THE FACTORS CONDITIONING THE TEACHING PROCESS

If it is essential that the teacher approach her work with a clear view of the ends which it is desirable for her to achieve, it is quite as necessary that she be conscious of the factors which condition the teaching process. The school, with its limitations and its advantages, the community and home life of the child, and, above all else, the child himself, his instincts, impulses, and abilities must be the subject of most careful study. Much progress has been made in recent years because of a better understanding and a more sympathetic attitude toward children. Teachers are beginning to see that education has its beginning in, and that it is always conditioned by, the life of the child outside of the school building. The possibilities of the school as an institution for the education of children are just beginning to be realized.

While it is true that the school shares with the home, the church, and the community at large the education of children, no one can fail to recognize the fact that the responsibilities and the activities of the school have been very greatly augmented during the past few decades. Where other institutions have lost or have become less effective, the school has gained, or has been forced to accept new responsibilities. Changed industrial conditions and life in cities have made it impossible for the home to continue to hold the important place which it once occupied in preparing its members for efficient participation in the productive activities. Whether we like it or not, we are forced to admit that the church no longer exerts the power over the lives and conduct of men that it once did. Along with the specialization of function which is so characteristic of our modern life, citizenship in our democracy has come to require less of that type of participation in public affairs which was once a great educative factor in our community life.

As these changes in the effectiveness of other institutions have taken place, men have looked to the schools to make good the deficiency. The schools have responded to the demand made upon them. Our curriculum no longer consists of the three R’s. Cooking, sewing, gardening, and many other kinds of manual work, music, physical training, and fine art are already found in our courses of study. We are coming to recognize the need for more systematic training in morals and civics, and vocational training is being introduced.

What is the significance of these changes for teachers? Is it not true that they must teach whatever is demanded by the course of study; and is not this the only difference in the teacher’s function brought about by changed conditions? The answer is, most emphatically, no. The situation which has already made necessary the change in curriculum demands also changes in method quite as revolutionary. It is more essential to-day than ever before that the school present opportunities for coöperation and for group work, a chance for pupils to work together for common ends, because there is so much less demand of this sort made upon children outside of school than was formerly the case. We ought to do more than we do to develop the independence and the self-reliance which were so characteristic of the boy and girl who lived in an environment which constantly made heavy demands upon their strength, skill, and ingenuity. The responsibility for taking the initiative, and of measuring the success of one’s efforts by the results produced, is all too uncommon in the lives of our children. The school must, if it is to adequately meet its enlarged responsibility, develop those habits of thought and action which enable one to get along with his fellows. The school life of the child must, in so far as this is possible, present such opportunities, make such demands, and judge results by standards essentially social. The child must learn in school to serve, to accept responsibility, and to produce results socially valuable. We could do much to increase the efficiency of the school if we planned more carefully to have schoolroom activities find their application in the homes of children.

School education begins not with the ignorance of children, but with their knowledge. Children come to us with a great wealth of experience. Our work as teachers is to enlarge and to interpret this experience, to give it greater meaning and significance. Can any one question, then, the necessity for acquaintance with the life of the child outside of school? And this study of the out-of-school environment must continue as long as the child is in school, if the teacher’s work is to be most effective. It makes a great deal of difference when you wish to teach nature study that your children have always lived in the city, at a considerable distance from a park. The problem of teaching a great commercial center to children living on farms presents some difficulty. But it is not alone these more gross differences in the lives of children which demand our attention. There are differences in ideals, differences in social custom, in short, in ways of thinking, feeling, and acting, which one must know if one would claim any adequate knowledge of the child to be taught. Probably the best opportunity to gain this intimate knowledge of the lives of children whom we teach is to be had in the work with parents and older brothers and sisters which should be carried on in the school building when the smaller children are not present. The school which is a center of community life, a place for study, for recreation, for physical development, and for social intercourse is the school that is fulfilling its mission in the life of the people; and the teacher who works in such a school will know her children.

There is one other responsibility which we as teachers must acknowledge which again leads us beyond the schoolroom. We should work for the welfare of our children during the time that they are not with us. No other body of men and women knows the needs of these children better than we do. Our work is conditioned by the life of the child before he comes under our influence. Our work is ofttime of no effect because of the adverse conditions outside of the school. What does it matter that we try to develop morality in children, when the forces of immorality in the streets more than counteract our influence? what does it matter that we strive earnestly to provide hygienic conditions for work during five hours of the day, when filth and disease are doing their deadly work outside of the school for nineteen hours a day? Who knows better than we that children with starved bodies cannot do great things intellectually? If we were only organized to improve these conditions, we could do much for the welfare of the community. The time is coming when it will be considered as legitimate for a body of teachers to discuss the problems of impure food supply, of relief for the poor, of means for the suppression of vice, and of better hygienic conditions for the children of our cities, as it is to discuss the problems of method or the organization of school work. What we need, if we are to be effective in the work, is better organization, more craft consciousness. We now possess potentially great power for social betterment. We are exercising this power in the school, and, as individuals, outside of the school. We will, let us hope, in time, recognize the larger social demand and perform the larger social service.

The children with whom we work come to us equipped with many native reactions or tendencies to behave. In any situation the child will react in accordance with some native tendency or habit which has grown out of the original tendency. Success in teaching depends upon a recognition of these instinctive tendencies, the development of some, the grafting of new but similar reactions on others, and the inhibition of the native reaction and substitution of another in still other cases. The instincts which are of importance in education have been variously named; among these those of greatest significance for the work of the teacher are play, constructiveness, imitation, emulation, pugnacity, curiosity, ownership, including the collecting instinct, sympathy, wonder. We shall deal briefly with each of these in relation to the work of the teacher.

Play: Possibly the lesson which teachers need most to learn is that play has real educative value. Before the school age has been reached, the child has learned chiefly by playing. In play the child gets his first experience in those activities which are later to make possible a happy, useful life in the community. The number of possible reactions possessed by a child of six is largely determined by the opportunity he has had to play. This is why we value so much a life free from restraint, and in contact with nature, for little children. Contact with the trees, the rocks, the birds, the flowers, and association with other children mean possibilities of learning for the child which no amount of instruction or exercise of authority can equal. The child plays now with this object and again with that; and in consequence comes to know not only the objects, but his own power. In an imaginative way he experiences all of the adult activities about him, sowing, reaping, building, cooking, cleaning, hauling, fighting; and he is wiser and better prepared for the period of struggle, which must come later, because of these activities.

Nor should this period of play end when the child enters school. The skillful teacher makes a game of many of the exercises of the school, which might be otherwise drudgery. The desire to win is common to children six years of age, and many a hard task will become play, if the element of competition is introduced and sufficient variety in procedure is provided for. By playing, children may learn to work. To achieve the ends desired in a game may involve the overcoming of difficulties which require the most earnest effort. There can be no better preparation for life than the playing of games where team work, self-restraint, and fairness are demanded.

We need more careful study on the part of teachers of children’s games, and more planning that all may secure the benefits which come from this sort of activity. In the schoolroom, wherever it is possible, the spirit of play should pervade the work. There will be cases enough where results will depend upon the exercise of authority. Let us never forget that the reaction of play may mean just as valuable results as the reaction of necessity, and that the ideal life is the one in which all work is play.

Constructiveness: Closely connected with the play instinct is the instinct to make out of the material at one’s command that which will represent some element in the play. In the beginning, gestures, sounds, and whatever objects are present suffice in the make-believe world of the child. But soon the materials are rearranged or shaped into some new form in order to represent the object desired. Materials become to the child just what he can make out of them. And it is not simply in power to construct or to represent that the child grows because of this activity. To make something, to work out in materials one’s idea, means growth in definiteness and control of ideas. The one adequate test of ideas must always be some sort of expression; and, for the adult as well as for the child, construction is one of the most important forms of expression. We would gain much in all of our school work in clearness and definiteness, if we resorted oftener to construction as a test. Of course, construction is not to be limited to the making of things of three dimensions. The map, plan, or artistic representation belongs to the same group, and is developed from the same instinctive tendency.

Just one more word of caution needs to be given with regard to work of this kind. In constructive work, whether with wood or clay, or with pencil or brush, the point of departure should be the child’s idea, not the model or pattern provided by an adult. After the child has made his attempt, then let him see where he has failed by reference to the object which he has tried to represent. And we can afford to be satisfied in the beginning with a crude product, so long as it satisfies the child. As for technique, there will come a time when the desire for a better product will call for greater skill and will furnish the very best possible motive for the necessary practice.

Imitation: In both play and constructive work a most important element is the instinct to imitate. The child constantly imitates adult activities in play, and in construction he represents the objects about him. As has already been indicated, it is in this way that he clarifies his ideas, that he gains experience. In imitation, which is truly instructive, the child does not consciously plan to imitate; it is enough that the model is present. This kind of imitation is sometimes called spontaneous imitation, in contradistinction to the other type of imitation, in which the individual persistently tries to reproduce the activity of another. In the latter case he is conscious of the process; and this type is sometimes called voluntary imitation. This distinction is important for teachers in many phases of school work. There are cases where the only satisfactory response is that which accords with the model, the standard which society imposes. We do not want a child to try to spell a word without being conscious of the form commonly accepted. He will succeed in spelling because he has studied this word, or is able to build it up from his knowledge of its constituent parts. On the other hand, wherever creative work is to be done, wherever originality is required, the educational value of the exercise is inversely proportioned to the degree in which conscious imitation of a model has entered to produce the result. In such subjects as English composition, constructive work, science work involving observation and experiment, what we want above all else is the attempt on the part of the learner to express his own ideas; and it is only after this expression that any adequate appreciation of model or of criticism can be hoped for.

There is one other factor in connection with imitation which is of great importance in teaching; namely, that children persistently imitate what they admire. This has a double significance for the teacher. Those things which can be made less attractive will tend to be less imitated; and, conversely, that which is held up as worthy of great respect will be much imitated. If we were only wise, we would devote our attention to the leader of the group, trying to secure the appropriate or desired reaction upon his or her part, rather than devoting ourselves equally to the whole group. We can depend upon it, the crowd will follow the leader whom they admire. Our appeals often mean little to children, and the models which we set up have little effect, because, however admirable these standards may seem to us, they are beyond the power of children to comprehend or admire. Instead of giving a boy a letter of Jefferson as a model, better give him the one written by his classmate. Do not expect the girl to imitate the noblest women in history, but make your appeal on the basis of the virtue of the girl she likes.

Emulation: Much that has been said above under imitation might quite as well have been written under the head of emulation. As social beings, we tend to do what others do. Consciousness of kind compels us to lay great store upon our ability to do as others do. When in Rome the difficult thing is not to do “as Romans do,” but to do otherwise. The desire to do not only as well as others, but to accomplish more, is responsible for much that is achieved in the world. If we did not have others with whom we are constantly comparing ourselves, few of us would do as well as we now do. Rivalry will always be one of the greatest means of bringing about improvement or advancement in social conditions. In school, as well as in the world at large, rivalry, if kept free from jealousy and envy, will justify its existence by the results produced. The boy or girl who is anxious to distance his fellows in school is apt to be the man of ambition and of success in later life.

Pugnacity: More prominent in boys than in girls, but present in some degree in every individual, is the instinct to fight, the desire not to be overcome either by persons or conditions which surround us. In so far as this instinct leads to physical encounter, for all except the unusually strong physically, the correction comes by way of defeat. For all, the substitution of games which involve physical prowess for fighting, and the substitution of victories of intellect for the victories of physical combat, point to the utilization of this instinct in education. It is sometimes possible to appeal to this instinct when discouragement and defeat in school tasks seem inevitable. No boy likes to be told that he has been downed by the task in long division, or that he has failed to make good in spelling or geography. The whole world hates a quitter, and normal, healthy children are no exception to the rule.

Curiosity: Children are proverbially curious about things. They want to know more, to enlarge and make more definite their experience. This desire shows itself in their actions in handling materials, in making and unmaking, in questions asked, in reasoning, in play, and in imitating others. The most striking characteristic in the mental life of children is the breadth of their interests, due to this instinct of curiosity. Most adults think along very narrow and restricted lines; not so with children. While it is true that they do little abstract thinking, there is scarcely an object or an action which comes within the range of their senses that is not followed by the desire to find out more.

Children have the spirit of inquiry, have many problems, in short, are mentally active to a degree most uncommon among adults. The problem of the teacher is how to keep alive this spirit of inquiry, how to insure a continuance of this mental alertness. Much of our school work has certainly tended in the opposite direction. Reciting what is written in books, without thought or question, has too often been characteristic of recitations. The appeal to authority, whether of the teacher or of the book, instead of the appeal to experience, to observation and experiment, or to other methods of establishing truth, tends to kill rather than to strengthen the spirit of inquiry. We should place greater value upon the intelligent question than upon the parrot-like answer. Respect for the problems of children, even when they seem of little account to us, rather than ridicule or evasion, will tend to keep alive this most precious heritage. Of course it is not wise to encourage the scatter-brained boy or girl who never thinks about the same thing for two minutes in succession. One great function of the teacher is to help children to concentrate upon the main issue, to show a child that his question is irrelevant to the problem under consideration, and to guide him on the path which makes thinking pleasant and profitable.

It would be a good thing for every teacher to ask herself whether while under her direction the children whom she teaches are usually mentally alert, thinking, asking questions, or whether they concern themselves only with repeating the thoughts of others. If there be any doubt with regard to the children’s natural aptitude, let her observe them when out of school and contrast the result. Mental laziness is a habit acquired in spite of our initial advantage, in spite of our desire for knowledge and the pleasure which comes from thinking. The school and the teacher must always be judged by their success in keeping children awake mentally; for it is power to learn rather than knowledge which counts in later years, and learning is most of all dependent upon the initial impulses toward inquiry.

Ownership: Very early in the life of the child the idea of personal ownership develops. There can be no doubt concerning the importance of this instinct in its effect upon the achievements of men, but we are concerned chiefly, in dealing with children, with one aspect of this tendency which is commonly known as the collecting instinct. This desire to have the most complete collection of buttons, postage stamps, pictures, birds’ eggs, shells, arrowheads, or whatever else it may be, may often be utilized to great advantage. Illustrative material for work in history, geography, nature study, and to some degree for other subjects can be had in this way. Such a collection will mean not only a much greater interest in the work, but also a livelier appreciation of the subject, more images upon which to base its generalizations. I have never seen a class that learned more geography in a short time than was mastered by a class who followed the American fleet around the world, collecting pictures, products, and stamps for each of the countries visited, and writing a full account of the country visited to accompany these illustrations. Another class made most interesting collections in connection with their study of colonial history. It is a mistake to suppose that ready-made collections will answer the same purpose. They may illustrate better, but the added interest and enthusiasm growing out of the exercise of the collecting instinct will be wanting.

The collecting instinct may be utilized in work which deals with ideas rather than things. Children may be just as keen in collecting ideas about a subject in which they are much interested as in making their collection of stones, or birds. The transition from the one type of collecting to the other is apparent, in collections which are interesting mainly for the ideas which they suggest.

The Social Instinct: The school has often overemphasized the individualistic point of view. Competition is a legitimate motive; but if all of school life centers around this motive, the child has lost much in the non-exercise of that peculiarly human instinct which demands coöperation and sympathy. At the foundation of our society is the idea of working together for the common good. Boys and girls who are to be most useful to their fellows, who are to do the most for society, i.e. those who are truly educated, must have kept alive and developed this spirit, more than altruistic, which sees in the good of society the greatest individual gain. In a later chapter this topic will be dealt with in considerable detail; suffice it to say here that many opportunities should be found for group projects, for service on the part of each member of the group of the sort that he is particularly qualified to render.

Wonder: The instinct of wonder or awe, closely related to or possibly identified with the religious instinct, is one that our modern critically scientific attitude tends to discourage. No one who has had the experience can doubt the value of this element in mental life. To wonder at the glory of the heavens will doubtless make more difference in the lives of most men and women than the smattering of astronomy they may acquire. The man who wonders at the manifestation of the power of the forces of nature may get more real joy out of life than he who feels that he has solved all of her mysteries. We are not as a people remarkable for our reverence. It may be well urged that our schools have often been responsible for the opposite attitude. This instinct of wonder will thrive only in a sympathetic atmosphere. No teacher can directly inculcate or develop it. Only that teacher who has preserved and nurtured the instinct in her own life can hope to be effective in keeping alive the same spirit in children.

In the first chapter it was claimed that teachers should work to develop the socially sympathetic, intelligent, and active individual, and that the ends to be expected from any exercises might be classified as habits, knowledge, interests, ideals or appreciations, and methods of work. In our discussion of the native reactions of children, we have endeavored to show that the possibilities of such accomplishment are the common possession of normal children. It is for the teacher who would accomplish these ends most economically to discover the instinctive basis for the habit to be formed, the knowledge to be acquired, interest to be awakened, or appreciation to be aroused. The instinctive interests of children will furnish the most powerful motives, and will serve as a basis for the most lasting results. Even when the native reaction is undesirable, the successful process may depend not merely upon negation, but upon a grafting upon the original tendency of one that is socially desirable; or, in other cases, the substitution of another reaction based upon some other instinctive tendency. We may not always follow where instinct seems to lead, but we can never ignore these native tendencies. Whether we blindly ignore or attempt to work against nature, or wisely utilize the instincts, the fact remains that all of our work is conditioned by the native equipment.

It has become more or less the fashion in recent years to decry the theory of those who discuss the teaching process from the standpoint of the child’s native tendencies, and with due regard to his interests. The reactionary who continually harks back to the good old times is still with us. The term of ridicule most commonly used in lieu of argument is “soft pedagogy.” We are told that the only way to develop men and women of strength is to begin by making sure that we make our appeal on the basis of our superior authority, or even brute strength, instead of finding the foundation for our work in the instinctive curiosity and tendency to mental activity with which children come to us. It is presumed by those who argue on the side of the importance of authority that, unless children are compelled by others to do hard tasks, they will never attempt anything that involves effort. Again, they interpret interest to mean the blind following of the child’s instinctive tendencies.

In our previous discussion we endeavored to show that education concerns itself quite as much with the inhibition of undesirable tendencies as with the encouragement of those which lead to desirable activity. The process is not one of following where children lead, but rather of availing ourselves of the native tendencies in order that the ends we desire to achieve may be accomplished with the least waste of time or energy. In reality, the choice between the two positions is not whether we will have regard for childish instincts and capacities, but rather whether we shall approach our task from the standpoint of one who has faith in an appeal to the lower motive of fear, or whether we believe that children are best prepared for later activity who work out their own problems.

The best teaching can never consist in driving pupils to tasks which they do not understand and which have little significance for them. The standard of efficiency is found in ability to present to the child a need, a purpose, or a problem which solicits his attention. It may be that we shall be but imperfectly able to accomplish this result, but, nevertheless, this must be our ideal. And it is not for reasons of sentiment that we adopt it. The learning process is explained in this way only. We make a new adjustment, reconstruct our experience only in a situation which makes such a demand upon us. When a child is compelled to do a piece of school work without realizing the significance of that which he does, there is substituted for this realization of need or problem an artificial need; namely, to avoid an unpleasant consequence.

There is another important argument which must not be overlooked. When a child works under compulsion, he usually gives just as little attention to his work as may be necessary to escape painful results. It is not uncommon for children to divide their attention most skillfully between distasteful school tasks and the out-of-school activities in which they are vitally interested. This lack of undivided attention to the work in hand results in a habit of work which cannot fail to be disastrous to the highest intellectual attainment. It is true also that children who have been subjected to such treatment come to look upon books and lessons as something of a nightmare, and are only too glad when the opportunity presents itself to leave school and go to work. The child’s attitude, growing out of his school experience, is quite as important as any result which we may achieve in knowledge.

Professor Dewey’s summary of the relation of interest and effort defines most adequately interest in its true significance, and indicates the place of effort in educative process. He says:—

“Genuine interest in education is the accompaniment of the identification, through action, of the self with some object or idea, because of the necessity of that object or idea for the maintenance of self-expression. Effort, in the sense in which it may be opposed to interest, implies a separation between the self and the fact to be mastered or the task to be performed, and sets up an habitual division of activities. Externally, we have mechanical habits with no psychical end or value. Internally, we have random energy or mind-wandering, a sequence of ideas with no end at all because not brought to a focus in action. Interest, in the sense in which it is opposed to effort, means simply an excitation of the sense organ to give pleasure, resulting in strain on one side and listlessness on the other.

“But when we recognize there are certain powers within the child urgent for development, needing to be acted upon, in order to secure their own due efficiency and discipline, we have a firm basis upon which to build. Effort arises normally in the attempt to give full operation, and thus growth and completion, to these powers. Adequately to act upon these impulses involves seriousness, absorption, definiteness of purpose, and results in formation of steadiness and persistent habit in the service of worthy ends. But this effort never degenerates into drudgery, nor mere strain of dead lift, because interest abides—the self is concerned throughout.”[3]

Interest, as Professor Dewey defines it, is intrinsic. The pupil does his work not because he hopes to escape some punishment or get a high mark, but because the work of itself commands his attention. The teacher must constantly choose whether she will work for interest of this type, which depends upon the recognition of the worth of the task to be performed, or resort to an interest which has no relation to the work to be done. Shall she appeal to the child through his instinctive delight in finding out, in constructive work, or other form of expression, or shall she appeal to his instinct of fear of a whipping or dislike of ridicule or nagging?

It is true that, after the teacher has done her best to appeal on the basis of the child’s needs for growth and development, not all children will respond equally, and so, as in the larger society outside of school, the child will need to be kept from interfering with others, and required to do that which those who are wiser have decided that it is advantageous for him to do. But this resort to authority, an acknowledgment of lack of ability on our part or the result of unfavorable conditions, must come last; it should never be the point of departure.

There is one other distinction which it is well to keep in mind when we think of interest. Our discussion thus far has considered interest as a means for securing certain desirable ends. We may not forget that to secure interest which will persist in many of the types of activity found in the school should be considered as an end worthy in itself.[4] We may hope to have a boy interested in his history lesson in order that he may gain the knowledge contained in this subject. Interest is the means we employ to secure the desired result. On the other hand, we may hope that the boy we teach will continue to be interested in history throughout his life. In this latter case the interest which we hope to secure in history becomes an end for which we work. As a result of any system of education, we are justified in expecting, not only an increase in the command of facts and in a knowledge of the best method of procedure in working in subjects taught, but also in hoping for the development of lasting interests which will make for a continuance of the period of education and for greater joy in life.

Heredity in Education: An inquiry into opposing theories of heredity is not relevant to our main purpose; but we are concerned with certain facts, commonly accepted, which condition our work. No one will dispute the fact that the children assembled in any schoolroom differ in native capacity, as well as in experience. Whether genius or its lack are apt to be reproduced in the children of gifted or dull parents is not the question the teacher has to solve. For her the demand is too often that she turn out a uniform product from a group of individuals who range from the genius to the dullard or mental defective. It is well for teachers to realize that in any non-selected group the majority of individuals may be expected to be of ordinary ability, and that a few will range above this standard, and a few will fall below. The important thing to remember is that a group of normal children cannot be ranged in ability in two or three distinct groups with clearly defined boundaries, but that if any adequate test be given, we will find that they distribute themselves over a wide range, with small rather than large differences between individuals. For example: if a searching test in fundamental operations of arithmetic is given, we know that some child will probably get nearly all of the work done correctly, and, even with our care in grading, some child in the group will probably fail in more than half of the work; and that between these two extremes we will have almost every grade of ability represented, with a tendency for a considerable number to group themselves at about that point which we consider ordinary or average ability.[5] Not only is it true that individuals differ in ability of any particular sort, but it is also true that the child who has little ability in one direction may be up to the average or have more than usual ability in some other direction. In our teaching we should have a minimum standard of efficiency for all who are not mentally defective, and we should strive earnestly to have all reach this goal. If wisely selected, this minimum will include that which is absolutely necessary for further advancement along the line of work pursued. The majority of the class should achieve results beyond this minimum, and for the exceptionally bright child the maximum should be fixed only by the child’s ability and the requirements of good health. It is useless to attempt to make all alike; it is wrong to limit the accomplishment of the gifted by the capacity of the majority; these are the lessons which the consideration of the capacities of any group of children should teach. We cannot furnish ability, but we may create an attitude of listlessness and mental laziness, if we do not give the bright child enough to do. Education demands a recognition of peculiar abilities and their nurture. We can never create genius from mediocre ability, and we may not assume that genius is irrepressible.