"Brief is the time, I know,The warfare scarce begun;Yet all may win the triumphs thou hast won.Still flows the fount whose waters strengthened thee,The victors' names are yet too few to fillHeaven's mighty roll; the glorious armoryThat ministered to thee is open still."—Bryant.
"Brief is the time, I know,The warfare scarce begun;Yet all may win the triumphs thou hast won.Still flows the fount whose waters strengthened thee,The victors' names are yet too few to fillHeaven's mighty roll; the glorious armoryThat ministered to thee is open still."—Bryant.
To reveal this Christian armory, the defences of the soul against the assaults of evil, has been the highest inspiration of our poets. What depth and beauty and impersonation of Christian virtues do we find in "Snow-Bound," "Among the Hills," "Evangeline," "The Conqueror's Grave," "To a Waterfowl," "The Groves were God's First Temples," "The Living Temple," "The Sun Day Hymn," "The Chambered Nautilus," "Vision of Sir Launfal," "The Great Stone Face."
The Bible is not generally admissible as a schoolbook, but the spirit of Christianity, clad in the forms of strength and grace, is immanent in the works of our poets. So universal, so human, so fit to the needs and destinies of men, are the truths of the great evangel, that the prophets and seers of our race drift evermore into the sheltering haven they supply. To drink in these potent truths through poetry and song, to see them enshrined in the imagery and fervor of the sacred masterpieces of our literature, is more than culture, more than morality; it is the portal and sanctuary of religious thought, and children may enter it.
10. The higher products of literature contain an energy that quickens spiritual life in morals, in art, and in religion. To many people, whose lives are submerged in commercial pursuits or in the great struggle to develop and utilize the material resources of the world, these spiritual forces seem vague and shadowy, if not mythical. But there are plenty of heroic souls in the realm of letters, such as Emerson, Scudder, Ruskin, Arnold, and Carlyle, who are not disposed to let men settle down in lazy satisfaction with material good, nor to be blinded even by the splendor of modern achievements in engineering, in medicine, and in the application of electricity. We must at least reach a point of view high enough to perceive the relations of these natural riches to the higher nature and destiny of man.
Scudder says, "It is to literature that we must look for the substantial protection of the growing mind against an ignoble, material conception of life, and for the inspiring power which shall lift the nature into its rightful fellowship with whatsoever is noble, true, lovely, and of good report."
Shelley, in like spirit, says: "The cultivation of poetry is never more to be desired than at periods when, from an excess of the selfish and calculating principle, the accumulation of the materials of external life exceed the quantity of the power of assimilating them to the internal laws of human nature. The body has then become too unwieldy for that which animates it."
Matthew Arnold, in "Sweetness and Light," while discussing the function of that truer culture and "perfection which consists in becoming something rather than in having something," remarks:—
"And this function is particularly important in our modern world, of which the whole civilization is, to a much greater degree than the civilization of Greece and Rome, mechanical and external, and tends constantly to become more so. But above all in our own country has culture a weighty part to perform because here that mechanical character, which civilization tends to take everywhere, is shown in the most eminent degree. Indeed, nearly all the characters of perfection, as culture teaches us to fix them, meet in this country with some powerful tendency which thwarts them and sets them at defiance. The idea of perfection as an inward condition of the mind and spirit is at variance with the mechanical and material civilization in esteem with us, and nowhere, as I have said, so much in esteem as with us."
11. Judged by these higher standards our writers and literary leaders were not simply Americans. They were also Europeans. The Puritan brought his religion with him, the Cavalier acquired his gentlemanly instincts in the old home, not in the untrodden forests of the New World. Much of what we call American is the wine of the Old World poured into the bearskins and buckskins of the West, with a flavor of the freedom of our Western wilds. Though born andbred on American soil and to the last exemplars of the American spirit, our literary leaders have derived their ideas and inspiration from the literature, tradition, and history of the Old World. It will be no small part of our purpose, therefore, to open up to the children of our common schools the best entrance to the history and literature of Europe. Our own writers and poets have done this for us in a variety of instances: Hawthorne's rendering of the Greek myths, Bryant's translation of the "Iliad" and "Odyssey," a good half of Irving's "Sketch-Book," Lowell's "Vision of Sir Launfal," "Aladdin," and "Prometheus," Irving's "Alhambra," Longfellow's "Golden Legend," "Sandalphon," Taylor's "Boys of Other Countries." Nearly the whole of our literature, even when dealing ostensibly with American topics, is suffused with the spirit and imagery of the Old World traditions. There is also a large collection of prose versions of European traditions, which, while not classic, are still lively renderings of old stories and well suited to the collateral reading of children. Such are "Gods and Heroes," "Tales from English History," "Tales from Spenser," "Heroes of Asgard," "Story of the Iliad and Odyssey."
The transition from our own poets who have handled European themes to English writers who have done the same, is easy and natural; Macaulay's "Lays of Ancient Rome," Scott's "Tales of a Grandfather," "The Stories of Waverley," the "ChristmasCarol," Kingsley's "Greek Heroes" and "Water Babies," Ruskin's "King of the Golden River," "Lady of the Lake," "Marmion," "Roger de Coverley Papers," "Merchant of Venice," "Arabian Nights," "Peasant and Prince," Bunyan's "Pilgrim's Progress," "Gulliver's Travels," and others have become by inheritance and birthright as much a part of the American child's culture as the more distinctive products of our own writers. No line can be drawn between those writings which are American and those which sprung from the soil of England and Europe. So intimate and vital is the connection between our present and our past, between our children and their cousins across the water.
These American and European literary products lie side by side in the school course, though the predominating spirit through the middle and higher grades up to the eighth should be American. We have noticed that in the earlier grades most of our classic reading matter comes from Europe, the nursery rhymes, the folk-lore, fables, and myths, because the childhood of our culture periods was in Europe. But into the fourth grade, and from there on, beginning with the pioneers on sea and land, our American history and literature enters as a powerful agent of culture. It brings us into quick and vital contact, not simply with the outward facts, but with the inmost spirit, of our national life and struggle toward development. This gives the American impulse freeand full expansion, and fortunate are we, beyond expression, that pure and lofty poets stand at the threshold to usher the children into this realm, founded deep in the realism of our past history and rising grandly into the idealism of our desires and hopes. As we advance into the sixth, seventh, and eighth grades the literature of Europe begins again to increase in quantity and influence, and to share equally with American authors the attention of the children.
The Americanism of our poets and prose writers, as previously shown, has also another side to it, which is one sign of the breadth and many-sidedness of literature as a study for the young. North America is a land rich in variety of natural scenery and resource. Nature has decked the New World with a lavish hand, forest and mountain, lake and river, prairie and desert, the summer land of flowers and the home of New England winters. The masterpieces of our poets are full of the scenery, vegetation, sunsets, mountains, and prairies of the Western empire. The flowers, the birds, the wild beasts, the pathless forests, the limitless stretches of plain, have mirrored themselves in the songs of our poets, and have rendered them dearer to us because seen and realized in this idealism. Unconsciously perhaps the feeling of patriotism is largely based upon this knowledge of the rich and varied beauty and bounty of our native land.
"I love thy rocks and rills,Thy woods and templed hills,My heart with rapture thrills,Like that above."
"I love thy rocks and rills,Thy woods and templed hills,My heart with rapture thrills,Like that above."
As along the shores of our Northern lakes the clear and quiet waters reflect the green banks, the rolling, forest-crowned hills, the rocky bluffs, the floating clouds, and overarching blue, so in the homespun, classic verse and prose of our own writers are imaged the myriad charms of our native land. Bryant especially is the poet of forest and glade, "The Forest Hymn," "The Death of the Flowers," "The Return of the Birds," "A Summer Ramble," "The Fringed Gentian," "The Hunter of the Prairies," "The White-footed Deer," "To a Waterfowl," "Thanatopsis," and many others. Longfellow's "Hiawatha," "Evangeline"; Whittier's "Barefoot Boy," "Songs of Labor," "Among the Hills," and "Snow-Bound"; Hawthorne's "Tales of the White Hills"; Holmes's "Spring"; Lowell's "Indian Summer Reverie," "The Oak," and many more.
The literature selected for these grades has a wide scope. It is instinct with the best Americanism. It draws from Europe at every breath, while enjoying the freedom of the West. Social, political, and home life and virtue are portrayed in great variety of dress. Nature also and natural science reveal the myriad forms of beauty and utility.
1. The Doorway.
There is a strong comfort in the idea that in the preparation of a masterpiece for a reading class the teacher may be dealing with a unity of thought in a variety of relations that makes the study a comprehensive culture-product both to herself and to the children. To become a student of "Hiawatha" as a whole, and in its relations to Indian life and tradition, early aboriginal history, and Longfellow's connection with the same, is to throw a deep glance into history and anthropology, and to recognize literature as the permanent form of expressing their spirit. There are a good many side-lights that a teacher needs to get from history and other literature, and from the author's life, in order to see a literary masterpiece in its true setting. It is the part of the poet to make his work intensely real and ideal, the two elements that appeal with trenchant force to children. The teacher needs not only to see the graphic pictures drawn by the artist, but to gather about these central points of view other collateral, explanatory facts that give a deeper setting to the picture. Fortunately,such study as this is not burdensome. There is a joyousness and sparkle to it that can relieve many an hour of tedium. Literature in its best forms is recreation, and brings an infusion of spiritual energy. We should not allow ourselves to confuse it with those more humdrum forms of school employment, like spelling, figuring, reading in the formal sense, grammar, writing, etc. Literature is the spiritual side of school effort, the uplands of thought, where gushing springs well from the roots and shade of overarching trees. There is jollity and music, beauty and grandeur, the freshness of cool breezes and of mountain scenery, in such profusion as to satisfy the exuberance of youthful spirit, and to infuse new energy into old and tired natures. If the teacher can only get out of the narrow streets of the town and from between the dead walls of the schoolroom, up among the meadows and groves and brooks, in company with Bryant or Longfellow or Whittier, if she can only take a draught of these spirit-waters before walking into the schoolroom, her thought and conduct will be tempered into a fit instrument of culture.
The teacher's preparation is not only in the intellectual grasp of the thought, but in the sympathy, feeling, and pleasure germane to a classic. The æsthetic and emotional elements, the charm of poetry, and the sparkle of wit and glint of literary elegance and aptness are what give relish and delight to true literary products. Literature appeals to the wholenature and not to the intellect alone. It is not superficial and formal, but deep and spiritual. The teacher who reads a classic like "Marmion," thoughtfully dwelling upon the historic pictures, calling to mind other of Scott's stories and the earlier struggle between Scotland and England, is drinking at the fresh fountains and sources of some of the best parts of European history. The clear and rock-rimmed lakes of Scotland, her rugged mountains and ruined castle walls, are not more delightful to the traveller than the pictures of life and history that appear in "Tales of a Grandfather," "Rob Roy," "Marmion," and "Lady of the Lake." To paint these stirring panoramic views of Scotch adventure and prowess upon the imagination of the young is to invigorate their thought with the real sentiment of patriotism, and with appreciation for manly struggle, endurance, and spirit. The vivid insight it gives into feudal society in church and court and castle, on battle-field and in dining hall, among the rude peasantry and the unlettered nobility, is found more lifelike and lasting than the usual results of historical study.
The moment we take a longer masterpiece and examine it as a representative piece of human life, or as a typical portraiture of a historical epoch, it becomes the converging point for much lively and suggestive knowledge, deep and strong social interests, and convincing personification of moral impulses.
The best preparation, therefore, a teacher can makefor a class is a spiritual and spirited one. At first the linguistic, formal, verbal mastery of literature, its critical examination, even its elocution, should remain in the background both for teacher and children. Let the direct impress of the thought, motive, and emotion of the characters be unimpeded; give the author a chance to speak direct to the hearts of the children, and the avenue toward the desired results in formal reading will be left wide open.
We would not deny that a certain labor is required of the teacher in such preparation. But, in the main, it is a refreshing kind of labor. If it brings a feeling of weariness, it is the kind that conduces to sound and healthy sleep. It invokes a feeling of inward power and of accumulated rich resource that helps us to meet with confidence the emergencies and opportunities of instruction.
2. In the assignment of the lesson the teacher has a chance to give the children a glimpse of the pleasure that awaits them, and to catch a little of the enthusiasm which her own study has awakened. This should be done briefly and by significant suggestion. In first introducing a longer work, it will pay to occupy more than is usual in recitations in opening up the new subject; if it is historical, in locating the time, circumstances, and geographical setting. The chief aim of the assignment should be to awaken curiosity and interest which may be strong enough to lead to a full and appreciative study of the lesson.A second aim of the assignment is to pave the way to an easier mastery of verbal difficulties that arise, such as new and difficult words, obscure or involved passages. The first aim is a substantial and fruitful one. It approaches the whole reading lesson from the side of interest and spirit. It seeks to plant direct incentives and suggestions deep enough in the mind to start effort. The assignment should take it for granted that natural interest and absorption in the thought will lead directly to that kind of vigorous effort and mastery that will secure natural and expressive oral reading. Look well to the deeper springs of thought and action, and the formal reading will open just the avenue needed to realize good expression.
Skill, originality, and teaching art are much needed in the assignment. It is not how much the teacher says, but the suggestiveness of it, the problems raised, the questions whose answers lie in the examination of the lesson. The reference to previous readings which bear resemblance to this selection; the inquiry into children's experiences, sets them to thinking.
Sometimes it pays to spend five or ten minutes in attacking the difficult words and meanings of the lesson assigned. Let the class read on and discover words or phrases that puzzle them. Let difficult forms be put on the board and syllabicated if necessary. A brief study of synonymous words and phrases may be in place.
It is a mistake to decline all helpful and suggestive study of the next lesson in class, on the ground that it invalidates the self-activity of children. Self-activity is, indeed, the chief aim of a good assignment. It is designed to stimulate the children to energetic and well-directed effort. Self-activity is not encouraged by requiring children to struggle with obstacles they have not the ability to surmount. Pronouncing new words and searching for dictionary meanings is often made a mechanical labor which is irksome and largely fruitless, because the wrong pronunciations are learned and the definitions do not fit. Before children are required to use the dictionary in pronouncing and defining words, they need careful exercises in how to use and to interpret the dictionary.
The teacher needs to make a study of the art of assigning lessons. Clearness and simplicity, so as to give no ground for misunderstandings, are the result of thoughtful preparation on the teacher's part. There is always danger of giving too much or too little, of carelessness and unsteady requirements, overburdening the children one day, and even forgetting the next day to assign a definite task. The forethought and precision with which a teacher assigns her lessons is one of the best tests of her prudence and success in teaching.
It is necessary also to be on one's guard against hasty assignments. Even when proper care hasbeen taken in planning the next lesson, the time slips by with urgent work, and the signal for dismissal comes before time has been taken for any clear assignment.
If the teacher knows just what references will throw added light upon the lesson, what books and pages will be directly helpful, if he can appoint different pupils to look up particular references and sometimes even go to the library with them and search for the references, in grades from the fifth through the eighth, the result may be very helpful. In the class recitation it is necessary to gather up the fruits of this reference work with as little waste of time as possible, recognizing that it is purely collateral to the main purpose.
Pictures and maps are useful oftentimes as references. As children advance in the grades, they are capable of greater independence and judgment in the use of such materials. General, loose, and indefinite references are a sign of ignorance, carelessness, and lack of preparation on the teacher's part. They are discouraging and unprofitable to children. But we desire to see children broadening their views, extending their knowledge of books and of how to use them. The amount of good literature that can be well treated and read in the class is small, but much suggestive outside home and vacation reading may be encouraged, that will open a still wider and richer area of personal study.
3. In spite of all the precautions of the teacher, in spite of lively interest and intelligent study by the children, there will be many haltings and blunders, many inaccuracies in the use of eye and voice. These faults spring partly from habit and previous home influences. The worst faults are often those of which a child is unconscious, so habitual have they become. If we are to meet these difficulties wisely, we must start and keep up a strong momentum in the class. There should be a steady and strong current of effort in which all share. This depends, as has been often said, upon the power of the selection to awaken the thought and feeling of the children. It depends equally upon the pervasive spirit and energy of the teacher. If we try to analyze this complex phenomenon, we may find that, so far as the children are concerned, two elements are present, natural and spontaneous absorption in the ideas and sensibilities awakened by the author, and the bracing conviction that sustained effort is expected and required by the teacher. Children, to read well, must be free; they must feel the force of ideas and of the emotions and convictions awakened by them. They must also be conscious of that kind of authority and control which insists upon serious and sustained effort. Freedom to exercise their own powers and obedience to a controlling influence are needful. If the teacher can secure this right movement and ferment in a class, she will be able to correct the errorsand change bad habits into the desired form of expression. The correction of errors, in the main, should be quiet, incidental, suggestive, not disturbing the child's thought and effort, not destroying the momentum of his sentiment and feeling. Let him move on firmly and vigorously; only direct his movement here and there, modify his tone by easy suggestions and pertinent questions, and encourage him as far as possible in his own effort to appreciate and express the author's idea.
In reading lessons there are certain purely formal exercises that are very helpful. The single and concert pronunciation of difficult or unusual words that come up in old and new lessons, the vocal exercises in syllabication and in vowel and consonant drill, are examples. They should be quick and vigorous, and preliminary to their application in lessons.
4. The teacher is only a guide and interpreter. With plenty of reserve power, he should only draw upon it occasionally. His chief business is not to show the children how to read by example, nor to be always explaining and amplifying the thought of the author. His aim should be to best call the minds of the children into strong action through the stimulation of the author's thought, and to go a step farther and reproduce and mould this thought into oral expression.
In order to call out the best efforts of children, a teacher needs to study well the art of questioning.The range of possibilities in questioning is very wide. If a rational, sensible question is regarded as the central or zero point, there are many degrees below it in the art of questioning and many degrees above it. Below it is a whole host of half-rational or useless questions which would better be left unborn: What does this word mean? Why didn't you study your lesson? Why weren't you paying attention? What is the definition of also? How many mistakes did Mary make?
Much time is sometimes wasted in trying to answer aimless or trivial questions: Peter, what does this strange word mean, or how do you pronounce it? Ethel may try it. Who thinks he can pronounce it better? Johnny, try it. Perhaps somebody knows how it ought to be. Sarah, can't you pronounce it? Finally, after various efforts, the teacher passes on to something else without even making clear the true pronunciation or meaning. This is worse than killing time. It is befuddling the children. A question should aim clearly at some important idea, and should bring out a definite result. The children should have time to think, but not to guess and dawdle, and then be left groping in the dark.
The chief aim of questions is to arouse vigor and variety of thought as a means of better appreciation and expression. Children read poorly because they do not see the meaning or do not feel the force of the sentiment. They give wrong emphasis andintonation. A good question is like a flash of lightning which suddenly reveals our standing-ground and surroundings, and gives the child a chance to strike out again for himself. His intelligence lights up, he sees the point, and responds with a significant rendering of the thought. But the teacher must be a thinker to ask simple and pertinent questions. He can't go at it in a loose and lumbering fashion. Lively and sympathetic and appreciative of the child's moods and feelings must he be, as well as clear and definite in his own perception of the author's meaning.
Questioning for meaning is equivalent to that for securing expression, and thus two birds are hit with one stone. A pointed question energizes thought along a definite line, and leads to a more intense and vivid perception of the meaning. This is just the vantage-ground we desire in order to secure good expression. We wish children not to imitate, but first to see and feel, and then to express in becoming wise the thought as they see it and feel it. This makes reading a genuine performance, not a parrot-like formalism.
5. Trying to awaken the mental energy and action of a class as they move on through a masterpiece, requires constant watchfulness to keep alive their sense-perceptions and memories, and to touch their imaginations into constructive effort at every turn in the road. Through the direct action of the sensesthe children have accumulated much variety of sense-materials, of country and town, of hill, valley, river, lake, fields, buildings, industries, roads, homes, gardens, seasons. Out of this vast and varied quarry they are able to gather materials with which to construct any landscape or situation you may desire. Give the children abundance of opportunity to use these collected riches, and to construct, each in his own way, the scenes and pictures that the poet's art so vividly suggests. Many of the questions we ask of children are designed simply to recall and reawaken images which lie dormant in their minds, or, on the other hand, to find out whether they can combine their old sense-perceptions so skilfully and vividly as to realize the present situation. Keen and apt questions will reach down into the depth of a child's life experiences and bring up concrete images which the fancy then modifies and adjusts to the present need. The teacher may often suggest something in his own observations to kindle like memories in theirs. Or, if the subject seems unfamiliar, he may bring on a picture from book or magazine. Sometimes a sketch or diagram on the board may give sense-precision and definiteness to the object discussed, even though it be rudely drawn. This constant appeal to what is real and tangible and experimental, not only locates things definitely in time and space, makes clear and plain what was hazy or meaningless, awakens interest by connecting the story ordescription with former experiences, but it sets in action the creative imagination which shapes and builds up new and pleasing structures, combining old and new. This kind of mental elaboration, which reaches back into the senses and forward into the imagination, is what gives mobility and adjustability to our mental resources. It is not stiff and rigid and refractory knowledge that we need. Ideas may retain their truth and strength, their inward quality, and still submit to infinite variations and adjustments. Water is one of the most serviceable of all nature's compounds, because it has such mobility of form, such capacity to dissolve and take into solution other substances, or of being absorbed and even lost sight of in other bodies. The ideas we have gathered and stored up from all sources are our building materials; the imagination is the architect who conceives the plan and directs the use of different materials in the growth of the new structures. The teacher's chief function in reading classes is, on the one hand, to see that children revive and utilize their sense-knowledge, and on the other, to wake the sleeping giant and set him to work to build the beauteous structures for which the materials have been prepared. But for this, teachers could be dispensed with. As Socrates said, they are only helpers; they stand by, not to perform the work, but to gently guide, to stimulate, and now and then to lend a helping hand over a bad place.
Explanations, therefore, on the teacher's part, should be clear and brief, purely tributary to the main effort. In younger classes, when the children have, as yet, little ability to use references, the teacher may add much, especially if it be concrete, graphic, picturesque, and bearing directly upon the subject. But as children grow more self-reliant they can look up facts and references, and bring more material themselves to the elucidation of the lesson. But even in adult classes the rich experience of a trained and wise teacher, whose illustrations are apt and graphic and criticisms incisive, is an intense pleasure and stimulus to students.
6. The major part of time and effort in reading classes should be given to the reading proper, and not to oral discussions, explanations, and collateral information and references. It is possible to have interesting discussions and much use of reference books, and still make small progress in expressive reading. The main thing should not be lost sight of. We should learn to march steadily forward through lively and energetic thought toward expressive reading. There is no other right approach to good reading except through a lively grasp of the thought, sentiment, and style of the author. But the side-lights that come from collateral reading and reference are of great significance. They are something like the scenery on the stage. They make the effect more intense and real. They supply abackground of environment and association which give the ideas more local significance and a stronger basis in the whole complex of ideas.
The reading or oral rendering is the final test of understanding and appreciation of the lesson. The recitation should focus in this applied art. All questioning and discussion that do not eventuate in expressive reading fall short of their proper result. Reading is a school exercise in which the principles discussed can be immediately applied, and this is scarcely true in studies like history, science, and mathematics. There are many hindrances in the way of this fruitful result; the teacher is tempted to talk and explain too much, interesting questions and controversies spring up, trivial matters receive too much consideration, much time is spent in the oral reproduction of the thought; often the time slips by with a minimum of effective reading.
The questions, discussions, collateral references, and explanations should be brought into immediate connection with the children's reading, so that the special thought may produce its effect upon expression. This test of effectiveness is a good one to apply to explanations, definitions, and questions. Unless they produce a pronounced effect upon the reading, they are largely superfluous. In view of this the teacher will learn to be sparing of words, laconic and definite in statement, pointed and clear in questioning, and energetic in pushing forward.While interest in the thought-content is the impelling motive in good reading exercises, lively and natural expression is likewise the proper fruit and outcome of such a motive carried to its proper end.
7. In order to keep up the right interest and movement, it is necessary to give considerable variety to the work. A teacher's good sense and tact should be like a thermometer which registers the mental temperature of the class. If kept too long at a single line of effort, its monotony induces carelessness and inattention; while a total change to some other order of exercise would awake their interest and zeal. Variety is needed also within the compass of a single recitation, because there are several preliminaries and varieties of preparatory drill which conduce to good rendering of any selection. Such are vocal exercises in consonants and vowels; pronunciation and syllabication of new or difficult words; physical exercises to put the body and nervous system into proper tone; the assignment of the next lesson, requiring a peculiar effort and manner of treatment; the report and discussion of references; concert drills; the study of meanings—synonyms and derivations; illustrations and information by the teacher; introduction of other illustrative matter, as pictures, drawings, maps, and diagrams. Variety can be given to each lesson in many ways according to the ingenuity of the teacher. If we are reading a number of short selections, they themselvesfurnish different varieties and types of prose and verse. The dramatist or novelist provides for such variety by introducing a series of diverse scenes, all leading forward to a common end.
8. Parallel to the requirement of variety is the equally important demand that children should learn to do one thing at a time and learn to do it well. This may appear contradictory to the former requirement, but the skill and tact of the teacher is what should solve this seeming contradiction. It is a fact that we try to do too many things in each reading lesson. We fail to pound on one nail long enough to drive it in. Reading lessons often resemble a child pounding nails into a board. He strikes one nail a blow or two, then another, and so on until a dozen or more are in all stages of incompleteness. We too often allow the recitation hour to end with a number of such incomplete efforts. Good reading is not like moving a house, when it is all carried along in one piece. We reach better results if we concentrate attention and effort during a recitation along the line of a narrow aim. At least this seems true of the more formal, mechanical side of reading. It is better to try to break up bad habits, one at a time, rather than to make a general, indefinite onslaught upon all together. Suppose, for example, that the teacher suggests as an aim of the lesson conversational reading, or that which sounds like pupils talking to each other. Many dialogue selections admitof such an aim as this. If this aim is set up at the beginning of the lesson, the children's minds will be rendered acute in this direction; they will be on the alert for this kind of game. Each child who reads is scrutinized by teacher and pupils to see how near he comes to the ideal. A conscious effort begins to dominate the class to reach this specific goal. Children may close their eyes and listen to see if the reading has the right sound. A girl or boy goes into an adjoining entry or dressing room and listens to see if those in the class are reading or talking. The enthusiasm and class spirit awakened are very helpful. Not that a whole recitation should be given up to that sort of thing, but it is the characteristic effort of the lesson. When the children practise the next lesson at home they will have this point in mind.
For several days this sort of specific, definite aim at a narrow result may be followed up in the class till the children begin to acquire power in this direction. What was, at first, painfully conscious effort begins to assume the form of habit, and when this result is achieved, we may drop this aim as a leading one in the recitation, and turn our attention to some different line of effort. Distinct pronunciation of sounds is one of the things that we are always aiming at, in a general way, and never getting. Why not set this up in a series of recitations as a definite aim, and resort to a series of devices to lay bare thekind of faults the children are habitually guilty of? Give them a chance to correct these faults, and awake the class spirit in this direction. It will not be difficult to convince them that they are not pronouncing their final consonants, liked,t,l,m,r, andk. Keep the attention for a lesson to this kind of error till there is recognizable improvement. Then notice the short vowel sounds in the unaccented syllables, and give them search-light attention. Notice later the syllables that children commonly slur over. Mark these fugitives, and see if they continue so invisible and inaudible. They are like Jack the Giant Killer, when he put on his cloak of invisibility, or like Perseus under similar circumstances. See if we can find these fellows who seem to masquerade and dodge about behind their companions. Then some of the long vowels and diphthongs will require investigation. They are not all so open-faced and above board as they might be. When children have such a simple and distinct aim in view, they are ready to work with a vim and to exert themselves in a conscious effort at improvement. Keep this aim foremost in the recitation, although other requirements of good reading are not wholly neglected.
After a definite line of effort has been strongly developed as one of the above described, it is possible thereafter to keep it in mind with slight attention. But if no special drill has ever been devotedto it for a given length of time, it has not been brought so distinctly to mind as to produce a lasting impression and to lay the basis for habit. Besides the two aims, clear articulation and conversational tones, there are others that may be labored at similarly. Appreciation of the thought as expressed by the reading is a rich field for critical study of a piece, and as a basis for observing and judging the children's reading. This idea is well implied by such questions as follow: Is that what the passage means? Have you given expression to the author's meaning by emphasis on this word? Does your rendering of this passage make good sense? Compare it with what precedes. How did the man feel when he said this? What do we know of his character that would lead us to expect such words from him? This line of questions has a wide and varied range. The chief thing is to scrutinize the thought in all the light attainable, and appeal to the child's own judgment as to the suitableness of the tone and emphasis to the thought. Does it sound right? Is that what the passage means?
Each characteristic form of prose or verse has a peculiar style and force of expression that calls for a corresponding oral rendering. There is the serious and massive, though simple, diction of Webster's speeches, with its smooth and rounded periods, calling for slow and steady and energetic reading. We should notice this characteristic of an author, andgrow into sympathy with his feeling, language, and mental movement. In Macaulay's "Lays of Ancient Rome," the ring of martial music is in the words, and it swells out into rapid and rousing speech which should correspond to the thought. In "Evangeline" the flow of language is placid and gentle and rhythmical, and in consonance with the gentle faith and hope of Evangeline. Every true literary product has its own character, which the genius of the author has impressed upon its language and moulded into its structure, and which calls for a rendering fit and appropriate. Before completing a selection, we should detect this essence and quality and bring our reading to reveal it. The places should be pointed out where it comes into prominence.
When completing such a work of art there should be given opportunity to bring all the varied elements and special aims discovered and worked out during its reading to a focus.
In the final review and rereading of a complete poem or prose selection the points of excellence in reading which have been the special aims of effort in the studies of the piece should be kept sharply in mind and pushed to a full expression. The realization of these various aims may be set before the class as the distinct object of their closing work on a masterpiece. The failure to hold vigorously to this final achievement is a clear sign of intellectual and moral lassitude. Reading, as noticed before, isone of the few studies in which the final application of theory to practice can be effected, and children may realize that things are learned for the sake of using them, and not simply against some future contingency. This implies, however, much resource and skill on the teacher's part in awakening the children. The impulses and aims which arouse the children to strenuous effort should spring from within, and should be expressions of their own self-activity and volition. There is much need of the enthusiasm and will-energy that overcome drudgery. Children should be taught to be dissatisfied with anything less than real accomplishment.
The children will naturally memorize certain passages which strike their fancy. Other passages have been suggested by the teacher for different pupils to memorize. In one of the closing lessons let the children recite these parts before the class. If the teacher has succeeded in calling out the live interest of the class during the previous study, such a lesson will be a joy to both pupils and teacher. One or two of the children may also volunteer or be appointed to make an oral statement of the argument, which will give freedom to natural and effective speech. Such a round-up of the reading lessons at the end of a series of interesting studies is a rich experience to the whole class.
Besides the important special aims thus far suggested, which should each stand out clear for aseries of lessons until its value is realized and worked over into habit, there are other subordinate aims that deserve particular and individual consideration, and may now and then become the dominant purpose of a lesson. Such are the correction of singsong reading, the use of the dictionary, the study of synonyms and antitheses, the comparisons and figures of speech, exercises in sight reading of unfamiliar selections, quotations from selections and masterpieces already read, study of the lives and works of authors.
Reading is a many-sided study, and to approach its difficulties with success we must take them up one at a time, conquering them in detail. Good housekeepers and cooks are accustomed to lay out a series of dinners in which the chief article of diet is varied from day to day as follows: chicken pie with oysters, veal potpie, stewed fish, broiled beefsteak, venison roast, bean soup with ham, roast mutton, baked fish, broiled quail, roast beef, baked chicken with parsnips, etc. Such a series of dinners gives a healthy variety and relish. It is better for most people than the bill of fare at a large hotel, where there is so much variety and sameness each day. When we try each day to do everything in a reading lesson, we grasp more than our hands can hold, and most of it falls to the ground. Children are pleased and encouraged by actual progress in surmounting difficulties when they are presented one at a time, and opportunity is given for complete mastery. The children shouldlabor consciously and vigorously at one line of effort, be it distinctness or rhythm or emphasis or conversational tone, till decided improvement and progress are attained, and the ease of right habit begins to show itself. Then we can turn to some new field, securing and holding the vantage-ground of our foregoing effort by occasional reminders.
9. One of the best tests applied to a reading class is their degree of class attention. The steadiness and responsiveness with which the whole class follow the work is a fair measure of successful teaching. To have but one child read at a time while the others wait their turn or scatter their thoughts, is very bad. It is a good sign of a teacher's skill and efficiency to see every child in energetic pursuit of the reading. It conduces to the best progress in that study and is the genesis of right mental habit.
Attention is asine qua nonto good teaching, and yet it is a result rather than a cause. It is a ripe fruit rather than the spring promise of it. The provisions which lead up to steady attention are deserving of a teacher's study and patient scrutiny. She may command attention for a moment by sheer force of will and personality, but it must have something to feed upon the next moment and the next, or it will be wandering in distant fields. So great and indispensable is the value of attention, that some teachers try to secure it at too heavy a cost. They command, threaten, punish. They resort to severity andcruelty. But the more formidable the teacher becomes, the more difficult for a child to do his duty. Here, again, we can best afford to go back to the sources from which attention naturally springs, interesting subject of thought, vivid and concrete perceptions, lively and suggestive appeal to the imagination, the sphere of noble thought and emotion, variety and movement in mental effort, a mutual sympathy and harmony between teacher and pupil.
It is indeed well for the teacher to gauge his work by the kind and intensity of attention he can secure. If the class has dropped into slothful and habitual carelessness and inattention, he will have to give them a few severe jolts; he must drop questions where they are least expected. He must be very alert to detect a listless child and wake him into action. The vigor, personal will, and keen watchfulness of the teacher must be a constant resource. On the other hand, let him look well to the thought, the feeling, and capacity of the children, and give them matter which is equal to their merits.
It is not unusual to find the teacher's eye following the text closely instead of watching the class. But the teacher's eye should be moving alertly among the children. In case he has studied the lesson carefully, the teacher can detect almost every mistake without the book. In fact, even if one has not recently read a selection, he can usually detect a verbal error by the break or incoherency of the thought. Moreover,the teacher can better judge the expressiveness of the reading by listening to it than by following the text with his eye. Depending wholly upon the ear, any defect of utterance or ineptness of expression is quickly detected. Even the children at times should be asked to close their books and to listen closely to the reading. This emphasizes the notion that good reading is the oral expression of thought, so that those who listen can understand and enjoy it.
The treadmill style of reading, which repeats and repeats, doing the same things day by day, going through the like round of mechanical motions, should give way to a rational, spirited, variegated method which arouses interest and variety of thought, and moves ever toward a conscious goal.
10. In studying the masterpieces of great writers, a question arises how to treat the moral situations involved in the stories. In their revolt against excessive moralizing with children, some critics object to any direct teaching of moral ideas in connection with literature, being opposed to explicit discussions of moral notions.
All will admit that literature, dealing as it does with human life, is surcharged with practical morality, with social conduct. It is also the motive of great writers, while dealing honestly with human nature, to idealize and beautify their representations of men. Nor is it their purpose to make unworthy characters pleasing and attractive models.
It is expected, of course, that children will get clear notions and opinions of such persons as Miles Standish and John Alden, of Whittier's father and mother and others in the fireside circle of "Snow-Bound," of Antonio and Shylock in the "Merchant of Venice," of Cinderella and her sisters in the story, of Wallace and Bruce in Scott's "Tales," of Gluck and his brothers in Ruskin's story, of Scrooge in the "Christmas Carol," of Evangeline, Enoch Arden, etc.
But boys and girls are not infallible judges of character. They are apt to form erroneous or one-sided judgments from lack of insight into the author's meaning, or from carelessness. There is the same possibility of error in forming moral judgments as in forming judgments in other phases of an author's thought.
It is the province of the teacher to stimulate the children to think, and, by his superior experience and judgment, to guide them into correct thinking. It is not the function of the teacher to impose his ready-made judgments upon children, either in morals or in anything else. But it is his concern, by questions, suggestions, and criticisms, to aid in clarifying the thought, to put the children upon the right track. There is no reason why a teacher should abdicate his place of instructor because he chances to come before moral problems. Literature is full of moral situations, moral problems, and moral evolutions in character, and even of moral ideals. Is the teacherto stand dumb before these things as if he had lost his wits? Or is he to consider it the greatest opportunity of his life to prudently guide young people to the correct perception of what is beautiful and true in human life? Why, indeed, should he suppress his own enthusiasm for these ideals? Why should not his personality be free to express itself in matters of moral concern, as well as in intellectual and æsthetic judgments? So long as the teacher throws the pupils back upon their own self-activity and thinking power, there need be no danger of moral pedantry or of moral dyspepsia.
It seems to me, therefore, that the teacher should use freedom and boldness in discussing with the children candidly and thoughtfully the characters presented in good literature. Let the situations be made clear so that correct judgments of single acts can be formed. Let the weaknesses and virtues of the persons be noted. Let motives be studied and characteristic tendencies traced out. In this way children may gradually increase their insight and enlarge the range of their knowledge of social life. If these things are not legitimate, why should such materials be presented to children at all? We need not make premature moralists of children, or teach them to pass easy or flippant moral judgments upon others. But we wish their interest in these characters to be deep and genuine, their eyes wide open to the truths of life, and their intuitive moral judgments to ripen in a healthy and hearty social environment. To this end the teacher will need to use all his skill in questioning, in suggestion, in frank and candid discussion. In short, he needs just those qualities which a first-class teacher needs in any field of study.
We have gotten out of the mode of tacking a moral to a story. Ostensibly moral stories, overweighted with a moral purpose, do not please us. We wish novelists and dramatists to give us the truth of life, and leave us to pass judgment upon the characters. Our best literature presents great variety of scenes and characterizations in their natural setting in life. They specially cultivate moral judgment and insight. One of the ultimate standards which we apply to all novels and dramas is that of their fundamental moral truth. Schlegel, in his "Dramatic Art and Literature," in his criticisms of great writers, discusses again and again the moral import of the characters, and even the moral purpose of Shakespeare and the dramatists. In fact, these moral considerations lie deep and fundamental in judging the great works of literary art. The masterpieces we use in the schools bear the same relation to the children that the more difficult works bear to adults.
The clear discussion of the moral element in literature seems, therefore, natural and legitimate, while its neglect and obscuration would be a fatal defect.
11. There are two kinds of reading which should be cultivated in reading lessons, although they seem to fall a little apart from the main highway of effort. They are, first, sight reading of supplementary matter for the purpose of cultivating a quick and accurate grasp of new thought and forms. When we leave school, one of the values of reading will be the power it gives to interpret quickly and grasp firmly the ideas as they present themselves in the magazines, papers, and books we read. Good efforts in school reading will lead forward gradually to that readiness of thought and fluency of perception which will give freedom and mastery of new reading matter. To develop this ability and to regulate it into habit, we must give children a chance to read quite a little at sight. We need supplementary readers in sets which can be put into the hands of children for this purpose. The same books will answer for several classes, and may be passed from room to room of similar grade.
The reading matter we select for this purpose may be classic, and of the best quality, just as well as to be limited to information and geographical readers which are much inferior. There are first-class books of literary merit, which are entirely serviceable for this purpose and much richer in culture. They continue the line of study in classic literature, and give ground for suggestive comparisons and reviews which should not be neglected. There isa strong tendency in our time to put inferior reading matter, in the form of information readers, science primers, short history stories, geographical readers, newspapers, and specially prepared topics on current events, into reading classes. These things may do well enough in their proper place in geography, history, natural science, or general lessons, but they should appear scarcely at all in reading lessons. Preserve the reading hour for that which is choicest in our prose and verse, mainly in the form of shorter or longer masterpieces of literature.
Secondly, many books should be brought to the attention of the children which they may read outside of school. The regular reading exercises should give the children a lively and attractive introduction to some of the best authors, and a taste for the strength and beauty of their productions. But the field of literature is so wide and varied that many things can only be suggested, which will remain for the future leisure and choice of readers. Children might, however, be made acquainted with some of the best books suited to their age for which there is not school time. Many of the best books, like "Ivanhoe," "Quentin Durward," "Captains Courageous," "Swiss Family Robinson," and "Nicholas Nickleby," cannot be read in school. They should be in the school library, and the teacher should often refer to them and to others suggested by the regular reading, which give deeper and wider views into life.
12. In the use of the symbols and language forms of reading, the children should be led on to freedom and self-activity. How to get the mastery of these forms in the early reading work is discussed in the "Special Method in Primary Reading and Story."
In the fourth and fifth years of school, children should learn to use the dictionary. It is a great means of self-help when they have learned to interpret the dictionary easily. But special lessons are necessary to teach children: first, how to find words in the dictionary; second, how to interpret the diacritical markings so as to get a correct pronunciation; and third, how to discriminate among definitions. Adults and even teachers are often deficient in these particulars, and children will not form habits of using the dictionary with quick and easy confidence without continuous, attentive care on the teacher's part. The best outcome of such training is the conscious power of the child to help himself, and there is nothing in school work more deserving of encouragement.
The system of diacritical markings used in the dictionary should be put on the blackboard, varied illustrations of the markings given, and the application of these markings to new words in the dictionary discovered. Lack of success in this work is chiefly due to a failure to pursue this plan steadily till ease and mastery are gained and habits formed.
In the later grades these habits of self-help should be kept up and extended further to the study of synonyms, root words and their kindred, homonyms, prefixes and suffixes, and the derived meanings of words.
In the following chapter some phases of method not fully treated before will be discussed and illustrated.
1. The proposal to treat literary masterpieces as units of thought implies a searching study and sifting out of the essential idea in each poem or selection. In some, both of the longer and shorter pieces, it is not difficult to detect the motive. In Bryant's "Ode to a Waterfowl," it is even suggested as a sort of moral at the close. Likewise in the "Pied Piper of Hamelin," and in Burns's "Tam O'Shanter." In "Glaucis and Philemon," as well as in "The Golden Touch," even a child can quickly discern the controlling idea of the myth. But in many of our choicest literary products it requires deliberate thought to discover the poet's deeper meaning, especially that idea which binds all the parts together and gives unity to the whole. In Lowell's address "To the Dandelion," we may find in each stanza the gleam of the golden thread which unifies the whole. The first lines suggest it:—