THE TEACHER'S PREPARATION
The teacher must make himself thoroughly acquainted with the lesson that he has to teach. When it is an extract, he should be familiar with the longer work from which it is taken. He cannot teach the lesson "Maggie Tulliver" with the highest appreciation if he has notreadThe Mill on the Floss. But there is more than mere information required for successful teaching. In poetry the teacher should feel delight in the music, the expression, the emotion, till he is eager to communicate his feelings to the pupils. This enthusiasm, however, should not have in it any insincerity, or extravagant commendation of the poem or the author. The teacher who has wide information and genuine interest in his work will seldom fail to arouse a real pleasure in the literature lesson.
The relationship between the teacher and the pupils must be cordial if the lesson is to be successful. This is true in any subject, but the sympathetic bond must be especially strong in the literature lesson.
It has already been pointed out that it is frequently necessary to give preliminary lessons in nature study, science, history, or geography before the lesson in literature is presented. The pupil must have the right information before the literature lesson can arouse the emotion that the author wishes him to feel.
Not only is the possession of the right information necessary, but the pupil should be in the right mood for the lesson. A class that has just returned to the room after the games at recess is not in the proper state of mind to appreciate, at once, the recitation by the teacher of,
Break, break, break,On thy cold gray stones, O sea!
Even the enthusiasm and scholarship of the teacher will fail to be effective under these circumstances. Heshould arouse in the pupils the proper mental and emotional state by a very short talk on friendship. He can refer to the well-known stories of David and Jonathan, or Damon and Pythias, and tell them of the friendship existing between Arthur Hallam and Alfred Tennyson.
Before studyingLead, Kindly Light(p. 315, Third Reader) the teacher might ask the pupils to picture a solitary traveller in the desert far from home. Night is approaching; the darkness gathers, and the air grows chill. What would be the nature of his feelings? Away in the distance he discovers a faint light glimmering as from a lantern. Now, how would he feel? Continue till the pupils can see each part of the picture, the spiritual significance of which they are to learn through the poem.
To give an extended account of the author's life is a poor introduction, unless there is something of unusual interest about his personality or achievements. The pupils usually do not know anything about him, and the teacher's aim, in this preparatory work, is to relate the thought and feeling of the poem to the properly assimilated knowledge and experience of the pupils. In some cases, they may have made a favourable acquaintance with the author in another poem, and this may give the necessary stimulus to their interest in his life. The best time, however, to give a biography of an author, when that is helpful, is after the lesson has been studied, for then the pupils will appreciate what the teacher has to say about him personally.
In some poems, the circumstances under which they are written will be the only introduction necessary, as in the case ofBreak, break, breakorThe Recessional.
There is often an appropriate time for the teaching of a literature lesson. Sometimes it is the season of theyear. The lesson onAn Apple Orchard in the Springshould come when the blossoms are stimulating every bird and child with their loveliness, fragrance, and promise.The First Ploughingand the various poems on birds and flowers should come at this season. They can be followed, in turn, byA Midsummer SongandThe Maple. There are poems in the Readers for September, November, Indian Summer, and Winter; and a wealth of material for the Christmas season. Yet the season may not always determine the time for such lessons. The pupil who has observed again and again an apple orchard in the spring, and who knows birds and trees, has a store of memories that will enable him to picture vividly what he reads about these at any time.
It may be objected that these methods of introduction make the pupil depend too much on the teacher, and do not throw him sufficiently on his own resources. It is to be remembered, however, that the great object of teaching literature is to cultivate a taste for it. When the pupil approaches a selection with ideas and feelings which are already, in his consciousness, related to those presented in the poem, he is in the best possible mental attitude to appreciate it, and the probability of his liking it is much greater than if it were presented without any such introduction. The pupil's first impressions of a poem are all-important, and it is essential that his first introduction to it should be made under the most favourable circumstances. If his first acquaintance with poetry is made under pleasant conditions, he will inevitably develop a taste for poetical literature, and that is the object which the teacher has in view. When this taste has been formed, it will not be necessary that the teacher should be at hand in order to recall the proper experiencesfor the interpretation of a passage. The pupil will read appreciatively on his own account, without any such assistance.
In all cases, the preparation of the pupils for the lesson must be short. Nothing more should be given than will suffice to bring them into a suitable mood; usually some simple experience of their lives is ample. The time for the lesson is always limited, and the proportion between the introduction and the main theme must always be maintained.
The next step in the development of the lesson is the presentation. How shall this be done? There are three ways: The teacher may ask the pupils to read the lesson silently at their seats or at home and come prepared to participate in the discussion; or he may ask some of them to read the lesson aloud; or he, himself, may read it to the pupils. The merits of each of these methods will be considered.
In prose, it is advisable to let the pupils read the selection before the lesson is taken up by the teacher. The pupils must have practice in getting the thought from the symbols on the printed page and in grasping the general trend of the story, the description, or the argument. The work will be mainly intellectual, but the pupils may also, at this stage, have practice in discovering the emotional elements in some of the prose extracts.
In the higher Forms, the teacher may occasionally allow some of his best readers to read a poem aloud, where the emotion is evident or the narrative plain.The Barefoot Boy, p. 118, Fourth Reader;The Homes of England, p. 375; andBernardo del Carpio, p. 131, are examples of this kind.
It is usually a better plan for the teacher to read the poem to the pupils. With many poems of exquisite music and imagery, such asThe Bugle Song, p. 337, Third Reader, the reading by a pupil who has not yet caught the meaning and spirit will be a failure, and the teacher will see that the mood that he has prepared with care at the opening is so certain to be dissipated that he must intervene in order to prevent the spoiling of the lesson. But the teacher who has studied the poem and whose feelings have been deeply stirred by its music and pictures can, through his reading, communicate to his pupils his own appreciation; and it will be a dull pupil who does not feel the contagion. It is, however, not well to insist on too great uniformity in method; the spirit rather than the form is vital.
1. To the reader himself. Poetical literature is akin to music. Poetry was originally sung by the minstrel, and the thought and feeling were communicated to the audience solely by the ear. The study of poetry by the eye is artificial, modern, and contrary to our hereditary instincts. We should not argue that the best way to appreciate music is found in following the symbols on the music sheet. It is only the highly educated musician who can imagine the delights of music by an examination of the written text. To some degree, it is the same with poetry. The music of the words and the appropriateness of the rhythm cannot be fully perceived by merely silent reading. The eye alone would never detect the exquisite music of such a poem asHide and Seek, Third Reader, p. 50, orBreak, break, break, p. 201. Nor could it perceivethe suitability of the rhythm to the theme, as exhibited inHow They Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix, Fourth Reader, p. 351. In this poem, we can hear in the rhythm the hoof beats of the horses as they gallop along. How often have we felt a new meaning and appropriateness that our voice alone has suggested!
2. To the listeners. The contagious nature of emotion has already been pointed out. The good reader, by his sympathetic and expressive rendering of the poem, may reveal to his listeners depths of feeling, the existence of which they had not before suspected. We have often been thrilled by a new emotion, upon hearing a familiar passage read by another.
Every teacher should be a good reader. His tone of voice, his movement, his gestures are the signs by which the pupils interpret his emotional attitude. If he is not already a good reader, he should bend all his energies to become one. Persevering practice, attention to mechanical features, such as distinct articulation, pausing, flexibility of voice, and, above all, a sympathetic appreciation of the author's thought and feeling, will soon convert a poor reader into a good one. He will soon find that his voice will accommodate itself insensibly in pitch, tone, and movement to the changing emotions of the poem. The delight of the lesson will be greatly enhanced where the reader lends to the rhyme of the poet the music of his voice.
The reading reveals the general thought of the poem. In simpler poems, the pupils will recognize in the reading the relationship and the intent of many of the subordinate parts. But the intellectual side is only secondary. Literature, in its finer forms, is not primarily an intellectual subject, such as grammar or mathematics. The emotionaltone, the spiritual meaning, and the artistic form—these are the main elements, and these can be best developed by good reading. The teacher should acquire the habit of reading poetry aloud in his home, and should induce his pupils to follow his example. Further, as two senses will give a more vivid realization of thought than one, the pupil, in the class, should follow with his eye the reading of the teacher; and it is helpful for a church congregation to follow with the eye the reading of the scripture lesson by the minister.
The teacher should next assist the pupils to discover the main thought of the lesson. In many cases the meaning will be very vague, and the pupils will have difficulty in formulating a terse and comprehensive statement of the subject of the poem. If the question is asked in a stereotyped form, such as "What is the main thought of the poem?" the enthusiasm of the pupils is often chilled. The teacher may, if it is a narrative poem, ask for the main points in the story, and may assist the pupils by calling attention to some pertinent passage, or by removing difficulties by means of questions or explanations. In all cases, it is well to accept a partially correct answer by the pupils, and to try to improve its imperfection by questioning, until a fairly complete and substantial statement has been given. Every answer which contains even a fragment of sound thought should receive due recognition. In some cases it is sufficient, at the outset, to take an imperfect statement of the main thought, since the study of the poem will reveal its defects. The teacher must keep before his pupils this statement, so that at the conclusion of the lesson they will be quite ready to replaceit by a more accurate one. The teacher should be careful that the emotions aroused by the poem are not unduly weakened or dissipated by the analysis of its intellectual content. Many lessons by young teachers fail just at this point, by reason of questioning unskilfully or by rejecting answers that do not correspond to their own cut-and-dried preconceptions.
The teacher should follow a similar method in discovering the leading thought of the subdivisions of the poem. These often correspond to the stanza forms, but the lesson may become very wearisome by insisting on too great detail. The poem often falls into two or three main divisions, into which the various stanzas may be grouped. With Senior Forms it is a good exercise to ask the pupils to make this grouping, but, with those not so advanced, the teacher himself may make it and ask the pupils for the central thought in each group. In the teacher's anxiety to have these subjects clearly stated, he runs the risk of wasting time and, worse than that, of killing whatever interest the pupils may have had up to this point. If the pupils could give these subjects with perfect clearness now, there would be little else to do. The greatest care must be exercised to prevent the work becoming mechanical, thus destroying the interest and making the selection distasteful.
With some pupils, the logical sense is quite strong, and they find their greatest delight in seeing the purpose of each part in a complex mechanism. With others, this work does not afford much pleasure. These are children who, later, can take delight in the flimsy plot of a musical comedy. Such pupils should be encouraged to do theirbest to discover some points of beauty or skill in the arrangement of the selection. In different lessons there is a difference in construction. In some, the logical connection and development is so important that this quality must be stressed, but the works of some authors have merits which throw the arrangement into a very subordinate position; for example, "Ring out, Wild Bells", fromIn Memoriam.
The next stage in the analysis is the examination of the passage minutely. There is always a place in the lesson for the study of words and phrases. The teacher should ask questions on these, in order to ascertain if the pupils have felt their force and vitality. They are to be taken up only to illuminate and impress the main thoughts and emotions of the poem.
In some cases, as in prose lessons, the pupils may acquire the dictionary habit. This develops and cultivates a studious disposition and accuracy of statement. But in poetry there are many subtle meanings that the dictionary will not give, but which the pupil has learned through contact with educated people and acquaintance with books. Most of the words that people use have not been learned from the dictionary, but from their context in reading or conversation.
On the other hand, many lessons are spoiled by too constant inquiry into meanings. There is much mere learning of meanings without reference to the thought or emotion that they are intended to explain. Many words are explained that are already understood. The fault may be due to the teacher's experience with annotated text-books of literature. The teacher, who has been preparedfor his examination by this method, is disposed to carry it into Elementary School work, till evenThe Recessionalbecomes merely a theme for learning verbal meanings.
There are many references in the text-books to geographical, scientific, and historical matters. If these allusions. In poems such asThe Armadathere must be a preliminary lesson such as has been indicated. Very often the enthusiast in these subjects will make literature a mere peg on which to hang much information. Teachers often make long digressions in connection with these allusions, till the mood of the poem is completely lost in the mist of the disquisitions. The same method should be adopted in teaching allusions as in teaching the meanings of words. Only such explanation is necessary as will show the purpose of the author in introducing the allusions. In poems such asThe Armadathere must be considerable explanation given, before the pupils will feel the emotion that the author hopes to kindle by the mention of the names that are used in it. With Canadian children, the effect in the case of this poem cannot be so great as with English children, who are more familiar with the special geographical and historical associations.
The teacher of young people cannot hope, by explanation of the allusions, to arouse all the pleasure and the vitality of emotion that will be induced in the reader who has the culture that comes of wide reading; nor can the teacher communicate this emotion when the information is new. The pleasure comes, later on, from the recall of information that was assimilated in earlier years.
The language of poetry is generally concrete. The artist may wish to give expression to a general truth, or philosophical principle, or ethereal fancy. These appear very abstract, but the artist embodies in material forms the idea he wishes to convey. The poet expresses his thought by the suggestion of material imagery, and emotion is most readily aroused by these images.
Antony, in his funeral oration after Cæsar's death, knew how to arouse his audience to fury by showing them Cæsar's wounds and holding before them Cæsar's mantle with its rents. Not always can the real object be produced for these emotional effects, but the teacher can sometimes bring into the class-room, for the benefit of young pupils, concrete material such as pictures and work in manual training. He can also call attention, at times, to the falling snow or the colour of the leaves or the sky, by asking the pupils to look out of the class-room windows. But in most cases, he has to be content with trying to recall the memory of these natural things. This shows how valuable has been the excursion of the boy into the country, and his experience on holidays by the river and in the harvest field. The nature study lesson furnishes the material for future enjoyment of poetry.
The pupils in our schools are very capable in realizing visual imagery. They can see the visual image very readily with its colour, form, and movement. They can arrange the objects in the picture with foreground, background, light, and shade.
But it is quite a different matter when they try to realize auditory imagery. In the poemWaterloo, Fourth Reader, p. 311, they can see the picture in "bright thelamps shone o'er fair women and brave men". They see the large ball-room with its glass chandeliers, the costumes of handsome ladies, the scarlet uniforms and the decorations of the officers and the nobility. But can they realize the next imagery, that of sound, "and when music arose with its voluptuous swell"? Do they hear the squeaking of one or two fiddles or do they hear the voluminous sound of regimental bands? Do they notice the varying metre from the stately iambic to the sudden "voluptuous swell" of the foot of three syllables in waltz time?
These images of sight and sound picture the gaiety and magnificence of this festive scene, in order to make more marked the contrast with the fear and pathos of the farewells. This contrast is enforced by the two auditory images:
And all went merry as a marriage bell;But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell!
Can your pupils image the wedding-bells chiming from the cathedral some afternoon in June, when suddenly the ear catches the sound of a death-bell tolling from another church? Any reader who cannot realize the sounds of those two bells with their discordant effects will miss the intention of Byron.
The pupils, through the stimulation of their senses, must have experienced the luxurious effects of orchards, flower gardens, and clover fields; the odours of apple blossoms and the smell and taste of the "full-juiced apple waxing over-mellow"; the perfumes and temperatures of spring, midsummer, and winter if they are to read nature literature intelligently and feel its charm. The words must have meaning if they are to awaken the feeling that was part of the original experience.
In literature, as in other arts, there is a great deal that is merely decorative. It is not the purpose here to disparage this form of art. "A thing of beauty is a joy for ever. Its loveliness increases." Some of the most famous portraits and landscapes in the picture galleries afford infinite pleasure to the student of art by the technique in colour, drawing, and arrangement. They are greater than photography. "The light that never was on sea or land, the consecration and the poet's dream" have given them a beauty that is greater than the realism of the actual person or natural scene. It is the same in literature. The author's feelings, his language, the rhythm of his words, and his delicate fancy afford the reader greater delight than he has ever known when he has met similar persons, scenes, or actions in real life. This is genuine æsthetic pleasure, similar to the pleasure that people derive from china, music, or landscape gardening.
There is, however, a higher form of art in both pictures and literature. There are pictures that suggest some noble aspiration, some great universal truth, some great conflict between duty and interest. We feel instinctively that these are greater than pictures possessing mere masterly technique. It is the same in literature. There are poems in which we feel that the thoughts and feelings are sublime. Perhaps the technique of these is not equal to that of the poetry described in the preceding paragraph, but the experienced teacher has felt his pupils lifted above mundane affairs, when they begin to grasp the true significance of such poems. The youngest pupils show their appreciation by wide open eyes, when these are read. They instinctively feel that this work is better than the merely pretty and dainty things in poetry.
In theOntario Readerswe have numerous poems of this nature. In the First Reader, the pupils instinctively feel thatPiping Down the Valleys Wildis of different calibre fromThree Little Kittens.The Lord is my Shepherd,Lead, Kindly Light, andTo a Waterfowl, are examples of this class.
In teaching these lessons, the spiritual meaning should be constantly emphasized.
The mere statement of the thought is not impressive. It is the presentation of it in poetical form that makes its effect impressive and lasting. The pupils may be led to discover how the author has accomplished this by means of the concrete embodiment of imagery, language, metaphor, and music.
The lesson is often dropped just at this time, leaving an impression somewhat like that of a science room, with the petals and leaves on the desks and the floor, after the class in botany has been dismissed. No act of analysis is complete without a final synthesis. The examination of the various phases of the whole must be followed by a reconstruction in which are perceived the relations of the various phases to each other and to the unity of the whole. These various parts must be closely related to one another if the final conception of the poem is to be definite. When the analysis is in progress, the teacher should not, of course, take each part by itself and examine it as if it were an isolated thing, but its relation to what has gone before should be more or less clearly perceived. When the analysis is complete, there should be a final synthesis in which the relations of the various parts stand out definitely. This can be done by means of a statementof the main thought in concise but comprehensive terms. If the teacher has accepted an imperfect statement at the beginning, the pupils will now be in a position to discover its inadequacy and supply the part that is lacking. Then the subjects of the various subdivisions or stanzas can be restated in suitable terms that will show the proper relationships. This reconstruction may also take the form of oral or written reproduction of the selection. This is especially valuable after the prose lessons. There should follow an oral reading of the passage by the pupils, which will serve to show the teacher how much of the feeling of the poem has been absorbed, how clearly the pupils have understood the meaning, and what misconceptions have arisen in their minds.
There are some mistakes in teaching literature that are noted here, in order that they may be avoided:
1. Teaching pupils about literature, instead of teaching literature itself; for example, teaching biography, etymology, history, geography, or science in the literature lesson, because some feature of one or more of these may be suggested by the language of the lesson. A knowledge of such subjects is merely preparatory to the study of literature itself.
2. Teaching merely the meanings of words and phrases, and omitting the greater things of imagery, thought, beauty of language, and the spirit of the writer.
3. Trying to force appreciation by telling the pupils they must learn to like such and such works because educated people like them. It is useless, at this time, to try to develop the critical spirit, as the pupil has nota sufficiently wide acquaintance with literary works on which to form a judgment.
4. Doing for the pupil what he should be led to do for himself. A literature lesson, in which the teacher has been doing all the talking, or both asking and answering questions, will be barren of good results.
5. Paraphrasing. Short passages may be paraphrased, in order to show whether the pupil has understood the force and vitality of the metaphor or the condensed expression. But paraphrasing must be used with great discretion. The teacher will not make the pupils appreciate the beauty of a fine literary selection by converting refined gold into low grade ore.
6. Attempting to draw some moral from every lesson. Not all lessons are didactic. If the pupils have sympathized with what is noble and just in the story, the statement of a moral at the conclusion is unnecessary. Yet in poems that are plainly didactic, for example,To a Waterfowl, Fourth Reader, p. 377, the moral lesson must occupy the first place. There the teacher should show how the author has enforced the lesson ofconfidence in God's guidanceby the incident of the migrating waterfowl, the imagery, the music, the arrangement of parts, and the similarity of his own position to that of the bird.
7. Dwelling unnecessarily on the intellectual side of a poem that is mainly emotional and musical; for example,The Bugle Song, Third Reader, p. 337, andThe Solitary Reaper, Fourth Reader, p. 261. In the former case, the pupils should be led to realize the visual imagery, should hear, in imagination, the bugle calls and fading echoes, and enjoy the rare and appropriate music. In the second case, the teacher should call attention to the artistic suggestionsof loneliness, distance, antiquity, sadness, and vagueness that are suggested by "old, unhappy, far-off things, and battles long ago", and by such possible situations of English travellers in remote parts of the world, and should show that these elements are suitable for the circumstances under which the poet sees the girl. He who questions merely to find out the meaning of the poem, the relation to that of its subordinate parts, and the meaning of the words and phrases, is using a very heavy tool on a very delicate mechanism. Such works must be treated deftly and lightly.
The class of literature that we have described in the preceding methods is condensed literature, where thought is large in proportion to the number of the words. It must be read by a process of close thinking, in an analytic, exhaustive manner. There must be a clear comprehension of the central ideas, and a strong grasp of minor thoughts or details, and the relation of these to the central ideas. While this power to grasp thought intensively is very valuable, we should also have the power to grasp the thought rapidly and comprehensively.
In some works, the thought is not so condensed and confined. Here, the main effort of the reader is to grasp the thoughts successively in a rapid, clear, and comprehensive manner. He must be able to read a book chapter by chapter and grasp the central ideas, to hold paragraph after paragraph, chapter after chapter, in his consciousness, so that each gives added illumination to the main thought and, at the end, the whole of the work stands out in its entirety. He must learn to grasp the central thought in each section as he proceeds—to sift the wheatfrom the chaff. The minor details have been of value in giving him the main thought, but the real ability of the good reader consists in dropping these minor details from the mind and holding steadily on to the more important facts.
This method gives a greater power of sustained attention and a wider acquaintance with good literature. Most of our reading is done in this way. It would be impossible otherwise to get a wide range, as time does not permit of minute analysis, and many of our longer works are so diffuse that they would not repay such careful study.
The supplementary, or extensive, reading may be given as seat work or home work. As seat work, it can come as a grateful relief from the arduous tasks in the ungraded school and will keep many an active mind from getting into mischief. By questioning about the main facts the teacher can assure himself that the work has actually been done. This questioning should not be used only to catch the negligent; it should give pleasure to the pupils as a conversation with them about their pleasant occupation. It should be done very informally, often as two intelligent people would discuss a book. The questions should be broad in their scope and should not dwell on matters of detail. If it is a story that is to be considered, it should be examined as follows: Discover what are the difficulties set up; how they are brought about; how they are overcome; how many threads of interest there are; why certain characters are introduced; what would be the effect if certain parts were omitted; to what extent the final solution is logical.
When the examination is finished, a series of compositions might be written on topics connected with the story.For instance, ifRip Van Winklehas been studied, a series of three compositions might be assigned: (1) Rip's domestic life; (2) his adventure in the mountain; (3) his return to the village. Three compositions would be better than a single one on the whole story, because too great condensation usually detracts from the value, and because the excellence of a school composition is usually in inverse proportion to its length.
It is exceedingly important that the teacher should see that these written exercises are not made distasteful to the pupil. They are very valuable if they are not considered irksome. The object is not so much to give skill in composition as to create a taste for wide and excellent reading. It would be better to allow this written reproduction to drop rather than to associate the pleasures of literature with something disagreeable.
In the lessons that follow, the answers given to questions are those which pupils may be expected to give after corrections and additions have been made by themselves and the teacher.
Professor Alexander has said:
It is impossible to exemplify on paper actual teaching. Actual teaching, as all other practical matters, is in large measure determined by circumstances and conditions which are never twice the same. A large part of a teacher's skill lies in the sympathetic perception of these conditions and in the power of adapting himself to them on the spur of the moment. The teacher should have a definite aim in view, and a general conception of the proper method to be followed; but these will be modified by the character of the pupils before him, of the answers given, of the manifestation of interest, and the comprehension of the various points brought forward. A question quite proper in one case will be quite out of place in another. What knowledge should be imparted by the instructor, what elicited from the pupils themselves, what matters dwelt upon, what lightly passed over—these things can only be determined by the actual circumstances.
It is impossible to exemplify on paper actual teaching. Actual teaching, as all other practical matters, is in large measure determined by circumstances and conditions which are never twice the same. A large part of a teacher's skill lies in the sympathetic perception of these conditions and in the power of adapting himself to them on the spur of the moment. The teacher should have a definite aim in view, and a general conception of the proper method to be followed; but these will be modified by the character of the pupils before him, of the answers given, of the manifestation of interest, and the comprehension of the various points brought forward. A question quite proper in one case will be quite out of place in another. What knowledge should be imparted by the instructor, what elicited from the pupils themselves, what matters dwelt upon, what lightly passed over—these things can only be determined by the actual circumstances.
(Primer, page 75)
Little Miss Muffet sits on a low chair eating from an imaginary dish. The spider comes creeping softly behind her. When he reaches her side, he sits quietly down. Then she sees him and, in a great fright, jumps up and runs away.
(Primer, page 68)
The senior division of the primary class had read the story of Little Boy Blue. Norman asked: "May we play it? May I be Little Boy Blue?"
Allan said: "I'd like to be the farmer".
Dorothy wished to be the farmer's wife.
Clara asked if the pupils of the highest class might be the cows and the sheep.
As Norman was enthusiastic and eager to express himself, he was permitted to direct the movements of the different characters.
The farmer selected a horse and prepared to take him to market, while Little Boy Blue could be seen tramping along the road (the front part of the room). The cows and sheep were grazing quietly near by.
As Little Boy Blue approached the farmer, he removed his cap and said: "Good morning, sir, do you want a boy?"
Farmer:"Yes, I want one to watch the cows and the sheep."
Little Boy Blue:"I can do that, sir."
Farmer(handing Little Boy Blue a toy horn that had been brought to school for use during a drawing lesson): "Here is a horn, then. If they try to go away, blow this, and they will come back."
Little Boy Blue:"I will, sir."
The farmer drove away, and Little Boy Blue watched the cows and the sheep. Once they were about to wander away (among the aisles), but Little Boy Blue blew the horn, and they immediately returned. He soon grew tiredof watching them; they seemed to be content to graze quietly where they were. He leaned against a haystack (a chair) and fell asleep. The cows were soon in the corn and the sheep in the meadow, where the farmer saw them as he was driving home. But he could not see Little Boy Blue. He called:
Little Boy Blue,Come blow your horn,The sheep are in the meadow,The cows are in the corn.
Farmer:"Wife, where is Little Boy Blue?"
Wife:"He is under the haystack, fast asleep."
Farmer(going to haystack):
Little Boy Blue,Come blow your horn.
The boy jumped up, blew a blast on the horn, and the sheep and cows immediately came back.
Little Boy Blue:"It was my fault and I'm sorry."
Farmer:"All right, you'll take better care of them next time."
(Primer, page 48)
When the teacher suggests that a game be played, many pupils fairly project themselves backward in an effort to look so well that they may be chosen to take part in it.
The teacher wrote "Dorothy" on the black-board. Dorothy whispered that she would like to play the story of Henny Penny. (The adventures of Henny Penny had been recounted the day before.) The teacher wrotethe story of Henny Penny. As Dorothy had sufficient self-confidence and a good memory, she was allowed to choose her part, which was certain to be that of the principal character. Had she not possessed these qualities, she would have been assigned a minor part during the first attempt at dramatizing this story. The teacher wrote "Rooster Pooster" on the black-board. "I should like to be Rooster Pooster", said Albert. "Turkey Lurkey", wrote the teacher. "I'd like to be Turkey Lurkey", said another. In this or some similar way, the parts were assigned.
As the play began, Henny Penny was discovered pecking at imaginary worms in the garden; suddenly she jumped up in a great fright. "Oh, the sky is falling!" she said, "I must run and tell the king". She ran down the road (an aisle) till she met Rooster Pooster.
When he saw her coming, he stopped crowing and asked, "Where are you going, Henny Penny?" "Oh", she said, "the sky is falling, and I am going to tell the king". "I will go too", said Rooster Pooster. They ran down the road till they met Turkey Lurkey gobbling contentedly. The usual formula was repeated, and Turkey Lurkey ran on with them.
But the fox (villain) was waiting around the corner. "Where are you going, Henny Penny, Rooster Pooster, and Turkey Lurkey?" said he. "Oh, Fox Lox", they said, "the sky is falling and we are going to tell the king". "I will show you the way." "Oh, no, Fox Lox, we know you. We will not go with you."
So they ran and ran, but had to return home because they did not find the king's house.
(Primer, page 52)
The pupils knew by the pictures on page 52 that the lesson would be a delightful one, but when they attempted to read it, they found difficulties that lessened their pleasure somewhat.
They enjoyed reading "I wish I could find a little fat fly", but "sad little sigh" and "an odd little shrug" were very difficult to say and were meaningless until the children imitated the teacher's "sad little sighs" and "odd little shrugs".
The pupils were then asked which little chicken they would like to be. The first pupil to respond was chosen. He went to the front of the room, which was then a garden, and with a much bigger sigh than was necessary, complained: "I wish I could find a little fat fly".
The other pupils then eagerly studied the page, that they might learn what the next little chicken said and did. The teacher was always ready to tell them any words they could not discover for themselves. One pupil could make a shrug but could not remember the second little chicken's words, so another was found who could say what the second little chicken said in just the way he would say it if he could talk. The other little chickens and the mother hen were chosen in a similar manner.
The mother hen could be seen busily scratching at one end of the garden, while her little chickens were walking aimlessly about.
First Chicken(after sighing):
"I wish I could find a little fat fly."
Second Chicken(with a shrug):
"I wish I could find a fat little bug."
Third Chicken(with a squeaky voice):
"I wish I could feel some corn in my beak."
Fourth Chicken(sighing):
"I wish I could find a fat worm on a leaf."
Mother Hen(impatiently):
"See here, if you want things to eat, just come here and scratch."
Rock-a-bye, my little owlet,In the mossy, swaying nest,With thy little woodland brothers,Close thine eyes and take thy rest.Hush-a-bye, my little owlet,Many voices sing to thee;"Hush-a-bye," the water whispers,"Hush!" replies the tall pine tree.
—Longfellow
There had been language lessons on the habits of the Indians; their way of living had been worked out, as far as possible, on the sand-table, and pictures representing Indian life had been shown. The pupils had eagerly constructed an Indian home—"Dark behind it rose the forest" (twigs from the pine and other evergreen trees), "Bright before it beat the water".
The lessons in drawing, painting, end modelling had been connected with this work. From their boxes of coloured crayons, the pupils had selected the colours used in making the pine trees, the grass, the bark of the trees, the owl in the tree, the wigwams, etc.
From the many beautiful Indian lullabies that would have been suitable, the teacher selected theIndian Lullabyby Longfellow. During the periods set apart for music,the pupils had been taught the desired melody with the syllable "loo".
Teacher."How does your mother put baby to sleep?"Pupils."My mother rocks the baby in her arms." "Mine puts him on the bed and he falls asleep." "We rock our baby in a cradle," etc.Teacher."The picture I give you will show you what the Indian mother does with her baby."
Teacher."How does your mother put baby to sleep?"
Pupils."My mother rocks the baby in her arms." "Mine puts him on the bed and he falls asleep." "We rock our baby in a cradle," etc.
Teacher."The picture I give you will show you what the Indian mother does with her baby."
Each pupil was given a small picture showing an Indian baby in his cradle suspended from a tree. These pictures had been cut from a supplement toPrimary Education.
Teacher."What has the mother done?"Pupils."She has put her baby in a basket and hung it on a tree."Teacher."Is the baby in the picture awake or asleep?"Pupils."He is asleep."Teacher."What could the baby see before he went to sleep?"
Teacher."What has the mother done?"
Pupils."She has put her baby in a basket and hung it on a tree."
Teacher."Is the baby in the picture awake or asleep?"
Pupils."He is asleep."
Teacher."What could the baby see before he went to sleep?"
Here a picture—fourteen by twenty inches—was shown. It was a good representation of an Indian home and its surroundings. The pupils had made use of this picture when working at the sand-table.
Pupils."He could see the pine trees, the water, the wigwams, the canoes, the Indians," etc.Teacher."What could the baby hear while swinging in his cradle?"Pupils."He could hear the Indians talking. He could hear the wind among the trees; the water; the birds singing in the woods; the cry of an owl; perhaps wolves, bears," etc.Teacher."What other babies lived in the woods?"Pupils."Birds, squirrels, owls, wolves," etc.Teacher."A man once wrote what he thought an Indian mother might have sung to her baby. This is what he thought she would sing." (The teacher recited theIndian Lullaby.)
Pupils."He could see the pine trees, the water, the wigwams, the canoes, the Indians," etc.
Teacher."What could the baby hear while swinging in his cradle?"
Pupils."He could hear the Indians talking. He could hear the wind among the trees; the water; the birds singing in the woods; the cry of an owl; perhaps wolves, bears," etc.
Teacher."What other babies lived in the woods?"
Pupils."Birds, squirrels, owls, wolves," etc.
Teacher."A man once wrote what he thought an Indian mother might have sung to her baby. This is what he thought she would sing." (The teacher recited theIndian Lullaby.)
Individual pupils then repeated one stanza at a time with the assistance of the teacher.
The pupils sang softly the melody they had learned to "loo"; then all tried to sing the words with the teacher. The purpose was to emphasize the rhythm and interpret the spirit of the poem. The lesson occupied twelve to fifteen minutes. At another time, hectographed copies of the poem were given to the pupils, and as they had already partly memorized it, they soon learned to read it.