A Practical Enquiry into the Philosophy of Education

As an illustration of our meaning, we may notice here, that a child who knows what is meant by "sheep," and "the keeping of sheep," of "tilling the ground," and "making an offering to God," &c. is prepared to hear or to read an abridgement of the story of Cain and Abel. We say an abridgement or first step, for reasons which shall afterwards be explained. Without a previous knowledge of these several elements of which this story is compounded, he could neither have listened to it with pleasure, nor read it with any degree of profit; but as soon as these are individually familiar, the grouping, – the knowledge of the whole story, – is a matter of ease, and generally of delight. As the story advances, it causes a constant and regular series of groupings on the mind by the imagination, which are at once exquisitely pleasing and permanent. The child, as in a living and moving picture, imagines a man laboriously digging the ground, and another man in a distant field placidly engaged in attending to the wants and the safety of a flock of sheep. He imagines the former heaping an altar with fruits and without fire; and the latter killing a lamb, laying its parts on an altar, while a stream of fire descends from the skies and consumes it. His imagination goes on with increasing interest to picture the quarrel-scene in the field; and he in effect sees the blow given by the club of Cain, that destroyed the life of his brother. All this living and moving scene will be remembered in groups; and these groups will be more or less closely linked together, and will be imagined more or less distinctly as a whole, in proportion to the mental advancement of the particular child.

The next thing to be attended to in communicating knowledge to a child by grouping, is, that no strange for unknown object or idea be introduced among those which he is called upon to group; because in that case, the operation will be materially interfered with, and either marred or destroyed. The completeness of this operation in the hands of Nature, depends in a great measure, as we have seen, upon the perfect composure and self-possession of the mind during the process. If there be no interruption, – no element of distraction introduced into the exercise, – all the circumstances, as they arise in the gradual developement of the story, are comprehended and grouped. The living and moving picture is permanently fixed upon the memory, so that it may be recalled and reviewed at any future time. But if, on the contrary, the placidity of the mind be interrupted, – if some strange and unknown object be introduced, whose agency is really necessary for connecting the several parts of the story, – the very attempt of the child to become individually acquainted with it, throws the whole process into confusion; and he has either to drop the contemplation of this necessary part of the machinery, or to lose the benefit of all that is detailed during the time he is engaged with it. In either case the end is not gained; and the great design aimed at by the teacher, – the communication of the knowledge connected with the narrative, – is more or less frustrated. Like the landscape pictured on the placid bosom of the lake, the formation and contemplation of his own undisturbed imaginings are delightful to the child; but the introduction of an unknown object, like the dropping of a stone in the former case, produces confusion and distortion, which are always unpleasant and painful.

One general reason why the introduction of unknown objects into these groupings of the child is so pernicious, may also be here adverted to. It arises from the circumstance, that no person, whether young or old, can form, even in his imagination, the idea of an entirely new thing. This is commonly illustrated by the well known fact, that it is impossible to conceive of a new sense; – but it is equally applicable to the conception of a new object. Adults can no doubt conceive and picture on their imaginations, objects and scenes which they never saw; – but this mental act is not the imagining of an entirely new thing. All such scenes or things are compounded of objects, or parts of objects, which they have seen, and with which they are familiar. They can readily picture to themselves a centaur or a cerberus, a mermaid or a dragon, – creatures which have no existence, and which never did exist; but a little reflection will shew, that nothing which the mind conceives of these supposed animals is really new, but is merely a new combination of elements, or parts of other animals, already familiar. Children accordingly can easily conceive the idea of a giant or a dwarf, a woman without a head, or a man with two, because the elements of which these anomalies are compounded are individually familiar to them; – but were they told of a person sitting in a howdah, or being conveyed in a palanquin, without having these objects previously explained or described to them, the mind would either be drawn from the story to find out what these meant, and thus they would lose it; or they would, on the spur of the moment, substitute in their minds something else which perhaps had no likeness to them, and which would lead them into serious error. For example, they might suppose that the one was a house, and the other a ship; – a supposition which would distort the whole narrative, and would render many of its parts inconsistent and incomprehensible.

As adults then, in every similar case, are under the necessity of drawing materials from their general knowledge, for the purpose of compounding all such unknown objects, it must be much more difficult for a child to do this, not only because of his want of ability, but his want of materials. The remedy therefore in this case is, to explain and describe the objects that are to be grouped, before the pupil be called upon to do so. And when the object has not been seen by the child, and cannot be exhibited by a picture, or otherwise, the teacher must exert his ingenuity in enabling him to form an idea of the thing that is unknown, by a combination of parts of objects which are. Thus a tiger may be described as resembling a large cat; a wolf, a fox, or even a lion, as resembling certain kinds of dogs; a howdah as a smaller sofa, and a palanquin, as a light crib. In all these cases, it is worthy of notice, that a mere difference of size never creates confusion; – simply because, by a natural law in optics, such differences are of constant occurrence in the experience both of children and adults. A water neut will convey a sufficiently correct idea of a crocodile; and the picture of an elephant, only one inch square, will create no difficulty, if the correct height be given. When these rules have been attended to, it will be found, that this principle in Nature has been successfully imitated; and the pupil, by the previous process of individuation, will be perfectly prepared for the delightful task of grouping the objects which he now knows. When he comes to these objects in the narrative, he conceives the idea of them accurately, and he groups them without effort. There is no hesitation, and no confusion in his ideas. The painting formed upon the mind is correct; the whole picture is united into one connected scene, and is permanently imprinted on the memory for future use.

Another circumstance connected with this principle of grouping in children, we found to be, that when, at any time a greater number of objects were presented to the mind than it was able to reiterate and group, it silently dropt the surplus, and grouped those only which came within the reach of its powers; but if in any instance an attempt was made to force the child to receive and reiterate the ideas of objects beyond a certain point, the mind got confused, and its powers weakened. – The imitation of Nature in this point is also of great importance in education, particularly in teaching and exercising children in reading. To perceive this more clearly, it will be necessary to make a few remarks on the nature of the art of reading.

Reading is nothing more than a mechanical invention, imitative of the act of hearing; as writing is a mechanical mode of indicating sounds, and thus becomes a substitute for the art of speaking, and conveying ideas. But there is this material difference between reading and hearing, that in hearing the person giving attention is in a great measure passive, and may, or may not attend as he pleases. He may receive part of what is said, and, as prompted by Nature, he may silently drop all that he cannot easily reiterate. But in the act of reading, the person has both the active and the passive operations to perform. His mind, while he reads, must be actively engaged in decyphering the words of his book, and the ideas are, or should be, by this act, forced upon the observation of the mind at the same time. As long, therefore, as the child is required to read nothing except that which he understands, and to read no more, and no faster, than his mind can without distraction receive and reiterate the ideas which he reads, the act of grouping will be performed with ease, and with evident delight, and the powers of the mind will be healthfully and extensively exercised and strengthened: – But if this simple principle of Nature be violated, the exercise becomes irritating to the child, and most pernicious in its consequences. The neglect of this application of the principle is so common in education, that it usually escapes observation; but on this very account it demands from us here a more thorough investigation.

We say then, that this principle is violated when a child is required to read that which it does not, and perhaps cannot understand; and also when he is required to read more, or to read faster, than he is able to reiterate the ideas in his own mind. On each of these cases we shall say a few words, for the purpose of warning and directing the teacher in applying this important principle in education.

Let us then suppose a child set to read a section which he does not, and which there is every probability he cannot understand, and then let us carefully mark the consequences. The child in such a case reads the words in his book, which ought to convey to his mind the ideas which the words contain. This is the sole purpose of either hearing or reading. But this is not accomplished. The words are read, and the ideas are not perceived; but the child is required to read on. He does so; and of course when the first part of the subject or sentence has been beyond his reach, the second, which most probably hangs upon it, must be much more so. In this therefore he also fails; but he is still required to read on. Here is a practice begun, which at once defeats the very intention of reading, and allows the child's mind to roam upon any thing or every thing, while the eye is mechanically engaged with his book. The habit is soon formed. The child reads; but his attention is gone. He does not, and at length he cannot, understand by reading. This habit, as we formerly explained, when it is once formed, it requires great efforts on the part of the child to overcome. Most people when they are actively engaged in life, do at last overcome it; while thousands, who have nominally been taught to read, never can surmount the difficulties it involves. Many on this account, and for want of practising an art which they cannot profitably use, lose the art altogether.

But again, let us suppose a child set to read that which he may understand, but which he is required to read more rapidly than allows him to perceive and to reiterate the ideas while reading, and let us mark what are the necessary consequences in such a case. The child is called on to read a sentence, and he does so. He understands it too. But the art of reading is not yet familiar, and he has to bend part of his attention to the decyphering of the words, as well as to the perception and reiteration of the ideas. This requires more time in a child to whom reading is not yet familiar, than to a child more advanced. But give him a little time, and the matter is accomplished the ideas have been received, and they will be reiterated, grouped, and committed to the keeping of the memory, – and then they will form part of his knowledge. But if this time be not given, – if the child, while engaged in collecting the ideas from the words of one sentence, be urged forward to the reading of another, the mental confusion formerly described instantly takes place. More ideas are forced upon the mind than it can reiterate; no group can be formed, because the elements of which it ought to be composed, have not yet been perceived; the imagination gets bewildered; – the mind is unnaturally burdened; – its faculties are overstretched; – the child is discouraged and irritated; the powers of his mind fatigued and weakened; and the whole object of the teacher is at once defeated, and rendered worse than useless. – In every case, therefore, when the child is called on to read, sufficient time should be given; – the teacher taking care that the main design of reading, that of collecting and grouping ideas, be always accomplished; and that the pupil reads no more at one time than he can thoroughly understand and retain.

There is yet another circumstance connected with this process of grouping, which ought not to be overlooked. It refers to the order in which the objects to be grouped by the child are presented to his notice. A child under the guidance of Nature, receives and retains its impressions of objects in a natural and simple order. When it witnesses a scene, the group of objects, or actions formed and pictured on the mind by the imagination, is exactly as they were seen, the one circumstance following the other in natural and regular order. In telling a story therefore to a child, and more especially in composing lessons for them to read, this part of Nature's plan should be carefully studied and acted upon. The elements of which the several groupings are composed, or the circumstances in the narrative to be related, should be presented in the order in which the eye would catch them in Nature, or the order in which they occurred, that there may be no unnecessary retrogression of the mind, no confounding of ideas, no fear of losing the links that connect and bind together the minor groupings of the story. In the history of Cain and Abel, for example, the child is not to be required to paint upon his imagination, a deadly struggle between two persons of whom as yet he knows nothing; and then, retiring backwards in the story, be made acquainted with the circumstances connected with their several offerings to God; and last of all, their parentage, their occupations, and their characters. The minds of the young and inexperienced would be perplexed and bewildered by such a plan of proceeding; and the irregularity would most probably be the cause of their losing the whole story. The opposite of this plan is no doubt frequently adopted in works of fiction prepared for adults, and for the sake of effect; but every one must see that it is unnecessary in simple history, and is not at all adapted for the instruction of the young. When Nature's method is adopted, the child collects and groups the incidents as he proceeds, and paints, without effort, the whole living and moving scene on his imagination, as if he himself had stood by, and been an eye-witness of the original events.

The ascertained benefits of these modes of imitating Nature, are literally innumerable; and it is happily within the power of every parent or teacher, in a single hour, to test them for himself. We shall merely advert to one or two instances which occurred in the recorded experiments, where their effects, in combination with the other principles, were conspicuous.

In the experiment upon the prisoners in the County Jail of Edinburgh, the acquisition of their knowledge of Old Testament History, instead of being a burden, was to them a source of unmingled gratification. There were painted upon their minds the leading incidents in the history of the patriarchs, not only in groups, but their judgments being ripened, they were able to perceive them in regular connection. These pictures, then so pleasantly impressed on their imaginations, are likely to remain with them through the whole of their lives. The Report says, that "they were examined on their knowledge of the Book of Genesis," and "gave a distinct account of its prominent facts from Adam down to the settlement in Goshen, and shewed by their answers that these circumstances were understood by them in their proper nature and bearings."

By the same means, but in less time, and to a greater extent, the same object was attained with the children in Aberdeen, who, though chosen from the schools specially on account of their want of knowledge, were, by only a few hours teaching, enabled, besides many other subjects of knowledge, to receive and retain on their minds the great leading circumstances that occurred from "the death of Moses downwards, to that of the revolt of the ten tribes in the reign of Rehoboam."

In the experiment in London also, a large portion of Old Testament history, with much other knowledge, was acquired in a few hours by a boy of about nine years of age, who, previously to the commencement of the experiment, knew no more of God than the name; – who had no idea of a soul, or that he should live after death; – who "had never heard of Adam, Noah, or Abraham;" – "had no idea of a Saviour; knew nothing of heaven or hell; had never heard of Christ, and knew not whether the name belonged to a man or a woman." Yet this boy, in an exceedingly short time, could give an account of many groupings in the Old Testament history.

We shall only remark, in conclusion, that if, by the proper application of this principle, so much knowledge may be acquired by rude and ignorant children, not only without effort, but in the enjoyment of great satisfaction; what may not be expected in ordinary circumstances, when the pupils are regularly trained and prepared for the purpose, and when all the principles employed by Nature in this great work, are made to unite their aids, and to work in harmony together for producing an enlightened and virtuous population? This may most assuredly be gained in an exceedingly short period of time, by a close and persevering imitation of Nature in these educational processes.

CHAP. VI

On the Methods by which Nature may be imitated in Communicating Knowledge by Classification, or Analysis

In a former chapter we had occasion to notice a fourth principle brought into operation by Nature in the acquisition of knowledge, which is the principle of Classification, or Analysis; and we shall now enquire how this principle may be successfully imitated by the teacher for the furtherance of his art.

There are two forms, which in a former chapter we endeavoured to trace out and explain, in which this principle of Analysis appears in the educational process of Nature. We shall here again very shortly advert to them, beginning with that which in education is perhaps the most important, but which hitherto has certainly been least attended to, – that of teaching connected truths by progressive steps.

When we read a connected section of history for the first time, and then examine the state of our knowledge respecting it, we find that we have retained some of the ideas or truths which we read, but that we have lost more. When that portion which we have retained is carefully examined, we find that it consists chiefly of the more prominent features of the narrative, with perhaps here and there occasional groupings of isolated circumstances. We have, in fact, retained upon the memory, little more than the general outline, – the great frame-work of the history. There will be the beginning, the middle, and the end, containing perhaps few of the minor details, but what is retained is all in regular order, bound together as a continuous narrative, and, however meagre, the whole forms in the imagination of the reader, a distinct and connected whole. There is perhaps no more of the intended fabric of the history erected in the mind than the mere skeleton of the building; but this frame-work, however defective in the details, is complete both as to shape and size, and is a correct model of the finished building from top to bottom. This is the state of every advanced pupil's mind, after he has for the first time closed the reading of any portion of history or biography. If the narrative itself has been correct, this general outline, – this great frame-work of the history, – remains on his mind through life, without any material alteration. Additional information afterwards will assist in filling up the empty spaces left between the more massive materials, but it will neither shake, nor shift them; and even the most minute details of individual or family incidents, connected with the general narrative, while they add additional interest, and fill up or ornament different and separate parts, will never alter the general form of the fabric, nor displace any of the main pillars upon which it is supported.

This is one way of illustrating this analytical process of Nature; but for the purposes of imitating it in education it is not perhaps the best. The idea of a regular analytical table of the history, formed of successive branches, by successive readings, is by far the most natural and applicable. By a first reading of a portion of history, there are certain great leading points established in the mind of the reader, which form the first branches of a regular analysis, and to some one or other of which parts or divisions every circumstance of a more minute kind connected with the history, will be found to be related. This first great division of the history attained by the first reading, if correct, will, and must, remain the same, whatever addition may afterwards be made to it. By a second reading, our knowledge of the leading points will greatly assist us in collecting and remembering many of the more minute circumstances embodied in them, or intimately connected with them; but even then, an ordinary mind, and more especially a young person, will not have made himself master of all the details. A third, and perhaps a fourth reading, will be found necessary to give him a full command of all the minuter circumstances recorded.18

In endeavouring to take advantage of this principle, so extensively employed by Nature, it is of great importance to observe, that a certain definite effect is produced by each successive reading. A first reading establishes in the mind of the pupil a regular frame-work of the whole history, which it is the business of every successive reading to fill up and complete. There is by the first course, a separation of the whole subject into heads, forming the regular divisions of a first branch of the analysis; – the second course tends to subdivide these again into their several parts; and to form a second branch in this analytical table; – and a third course, would enable the pupil to perceive and to separate the parts of the narrative included in these several divisions, by which there would arise a third branch, all included in the second, and even in the first.

We have here supposed, that the pupil has been engaged with the very same chapters in each of these several courses; – and that he read the same words in the first course that he read in those which followed. He had to read the whole, although he could retain but little. He had to labour the whole field for the sake of procuring plants, which could have been more certainly and more healthfully raised upon a square yard. His reading for hours has produced no more knowledge than is expressed by the first branch of the supposed analysis; and therefore, if the teacher would but analyse the subject for the child, whether it be a science or a history, – suppose for example, the History of Joseph, – and give his younger pupils no more at first than the simple outline of the story, some very important advantages would be the result. In the first place, the very difficult task of keeping the volatile mind of a child continuously fixed to the subject during the lengthened reading of the whole narrative will be unnecessary; – the irritation and uneasiness which such a lengthened exercise must produce in a child will be avoided; – time will be economised, the labour of the teacher will be spared, and the mind of the child at the close of the exercise, instead of being fagged and prostrated, will be found vigorous and lively. And yet, with all this, the positive result will be the same. The child's knowledge of the subject in this latter case, will in reality be as extensive, and much more distinct and permanent, than in the former.