THE ECLECTIC TEACHER

AND KENTUCKY SCHOOL JOURNAL:

FOR TEACHERS AND FRIENDS OF EDUCATION.

DECEMBER, 1876.

RANDOM THOUGHTS ON TEACHING.

C. C. JENCKS.

THERE is one serious drawback to thorough school work in our common dis

THERE

trict schools which I would rejoice to see overcome: I mean the tendency on the part of pupils (and in too many instances of teachers, also,) to mistake the mere language of the text-book for science itself; to recognize nothing beyond or outside of their books as having anything to do with their studies; and to merely learn by rote the words of their lessons, without ever reaching out after the ideas which the words are intended to convey.

Take, for example, the study of geography. Go into almost any of our common schools and question the pupils upon this subject, and, although they may be found well posted upon the "questions and answers" in their books—able, perhaps, to define (but always in the language of the book) latitude, longitude, meridians, circles and zones, and to locate-"on the map"-the principal mountains, countries, islands, capes, cities, lakes, rivers, gulfs, straits, etc.; yet we find them possessed of no broad and general views of the science they pretend to study. Geography, to them, is a book-nothing more. It has no more relation in their minds to the earth upon which they daily tread than it has to the moon. Talk to them of states, provinces or countries, and you bring up before their minds little patches of red, yellow or green paint on the pages of their atlases. Speak to them of the Mississippi river. Will you picture to their imaginations

a real mighty stream of water rolling across vast prairies; through dense forests; by fields of cotton, rice and sugar cane; with waving grass, or tangled thickets, or cities of stone and brick upon its banks; and boats and ships plying upon its turbid bosom? Or will they think only of the crooked black mark straggling across their maps? In at least three cases out of five it will be the latter the representation, instead of the object itself, to which their thoughts will turn.

Now, it is not because children are incapable of looking beyond the mere portraiture, and viewing in their minds objects themselves, that they entertain these erroneous conceptions. Perhaps these very pupils, whose broadest views seem to extend no farther than the covers of their books, may have some correct ideas of geography. But these are not the ideas which they have received in the school-room, and comprise no more of the subject than they have had opportunity to learn by some better method.

Ask that bright-eyed little fellow about the steamboat excursion which Uncle John took up the Mississippi last summer, and he will give you a vivid description of a real river-prairies, cities, rice swamps, alligators and all. But the picture in his mind is so unlike any ideas of geography which he receives from his books, that he never thinks of connecting the one with the other.

What inferences are we to draw from these facts? All the trouble seems to arise from failing to make pupils see a relation between their studies and real objects, and from presenting to their thoughts representations of things instead of the things themselves, and, as a consequence, burdening their minds with a mass of unclassified matter, which, having no relation to anything tangible, is either soon forgotten, or so terribly "mixed" as to be of about as little use to the possessor in general as to the boy (a student both of geography and history) who, when asked where the Pilgrims landed, replied: "In Salt Lake."

Now here is a fault. But who is to blame? We will admit that in many instances the books used are not just what they ought to be; though we rejoice that book-makers themselves are beginning to realize this fact, and to furnish us with what we so much need-briefer and more attractive books; books stripped of wearisome and unimportant details-books calculated to interest and please, instead of disgusting and discouraging the learner.

But after the books and book-makers have done all they can do, the great weight of the responsibility of correct and thorough teaching rests upon the teacher; and I would that every person who assumes the office of teacher would do so fully realizing the importance of his high mission, and the sacredness of the trust confided to his care-the training of immortal minds.

The mobile minds of children are in the hands of the teacher, like the plastic clay in the hands of the potter. Books are but tools-which, when skillfully employed, are of valuable service, but, in the hands of one who knows not how to use them, only mar and deface what they would mold into usefulness and beauty.

While we cannot but conclude, then, that with the teacher rests much of the blame for those errors into which his pupils have fallen, we believe his fault to be more often the result of inadequacy, or a mistaken notion of what his duty is, than of remissness, or willful neglect of duty. It must be remembered that in

many cases in our common country schools, the teacher himself has received his education in the same manner-perhaps in the very same school that he is teaching. He honestly presents the best ideas of which he is possessed, meager and faulty though they be. Again, in many cases, teachers hold the belief that if they faithfully hear the recitations, ask all the questions the book has furnished them, and rigorously demand and receive correct answers to the same, they fully perform all that is or should be required of them. But this is a sad and unpardonable mistake. Where this method, or rather want of method, is pursued, the lessons are never really learned, they are only prepared for the occasion-recited much as a pollparrot might recite them-and, as soon as the recitation is over, forgotten. The only aim of the pupil is to keep before his mind for the time being the jargon of words which he is to say over when the questions are asked him in the class; and, if the teacher chances to miss a question, or fails to ask them in the regular order in which they are placedlo! what confusion follows! The remainder of the recitation is very much like the game of "mixed questions and answers."

If with the teacher, then, rests the fault, to the teacher we must look for reparation, and a better state of things in the future.

The teacher must be competent to teach. It doesn't require much education nor any great amount of intellect to ask questions already prepared for our use. Any one who can read can do this. But the teacher should be able to do even more than this, He should be able to propound questions of his own; and such questions as will draw from the pupil all he knows of the subject in hand, and by exciting his curiosity create in him a desire to know more of it. This will lead him to study, to investigate, to think for himself. A good teacher must be a good questioner rather than a good talker. It is a fault to tell a child anything which he may be led to discover for himself. That which he learns as the result of his own observations must certainly make an impression upon his mind, and will be remembered. That which he is told he may simply hear, without ever receiving into his mind; and as there is no impression made, there will be no impression left.

It is no difficult task to lead children to think and observe. Indeed, they think and observe naturally. All that is required is to direct their thoughts and observations in the right direction. They have a natural desire to know and to learn about things in which they are interested.

Take, for example, the boy who delights in hunting and trapping. Present him a book upon this subject, and how eagerly he seizes upon it, and with what earnestness he fastens yes, rivets and clinches-every fact or incident which he reads, upon his memory. It is by no effort that his mind reaches out beyond the mere words on the page before him, and views with the vividness of reality real existences. And why? Because he is interested. Interested in what-the book? By no means-but in the things which the book tells about. It is absurd to talk about interesting children in their books. Interest them in that about which you would teach them; then give them the books to satisfy the curiosity to know, which this interest has aroused.

But how is this to be accomplished? How are we to awaken in our pupils a

lively interest in things which do not naturally interest them, is a question which may be asked.

To this I would reply: Lift their minds from the gloomy shadows on the dull paper pages, and direct them to the glittering realities beyond. These will naturally interest them. Throw the books aside entirely, until the fact has been clearly established in their minds that it is not books they are studying.

Let us suppose once more that the subject is geography.

First study with the class that portion of the earth which they can see. Take them to the window, or out of doors. Lead them to observe and describe the surrounding country. Do this by asking questions: "Is the land which you see hilly or level?" "What is a hill ?" "What do we call these low places between the hills?" "Here is a stream of water; is it a river?" "What is a river ?" "In the middle of the stream we see a little portion of land which is separated from the rest of the land on all sides by the water. What do we call that?" "Which way does the stream flow-east, west, north or south? "In which direction is the land from that hill ?" In which direction from us?" In which direction is the hill from us?" etc. Follow this up until each pupil can describe accurately the whole country as far as he can see. Perhaps it might be well, also, to have them draw maps of the same, locating the hills, the stream, patches of woodland and cleared fields, highways, houses; add whatever else may happen to be situated in the locality, as a church, mill, railroad, canal, church yard, etc.

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After this familiar geography has been studied thoroughly, lead off upon imaginary journeys-first to places not immediately in view, but which pupils have seen, and then to places which they have not seen. Here, of course, the teacher must deal largely with the imaginations of his pupils, and should, therefore, himself possess a lively imagination; and, indeed, as it has been aptly remarked, a teacher without imagination is a poet without a muse." The subject he would teach must stand out clearly and well-defined before his own mental vision, else how can he present it lucidly to the mind of his pupils!

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Continue the questioning, using those objects with which the class has become familiar to direct their thoughts outward to other more general and extensive views.

"If we should follow this stream the way it is flowing, do you think it would grow larger or smaller as we advanced ?" Why?" "If we kept on following it do you suppose we would ever come to the end?" "Where does the water go?" "What do you suppose is beyond the hills?" "What is the difference between a hill and a mountain?" "What is a mountain?" Scores of such questions as these will suggest themselves to the mind of the thinking teacher.

Connect these exercises with the daily recitations, gradually extending the limits of the mental view until, in imagination, the pupil sees, as "living pictures" upon which he loves to dwell, beautiful landscapes; green wooded hills with lovely valleys-teeming with vegetation, and dotted with farm houses and little villages; boundless plains; lofty mountains, covered with snow and ice, and rent by fearful chasms into which they send the thundering avalanche; lakes and seas and forests and cities, silvery streamlets running to join mighty rivers; the rivers hastening onward to the ocean; the great ocean itself surging against the rock bound shore, and tossing skyward its foamy waves, or placidly

mirroring the blue vault of heaven and bearing upon its quiet bosom whitesailed ships; the volcano breathing fire; the sand-storm upon the dessert; the tropical islands covered with luxuriant palm-groves; the tiger in his native jungle, and the boa coiled among mammoth ferns; the Esquimaux bounding o'er fields of ice in his reindeer sledge and suit of fur, and the nude Ethiop oiling himself beneath a scorching sun.

We have merely taken geography as an example; the same evil is found in teaching other branches, and the same remedy must be applied.

In history the scholar must look at events as realities, and at characters as living, thinking beings. In his imagination he should visit the country or place in which the event occurred. He should see the battle while it rages, and voyage with the discoverer to unknown shores. There has been a cause for every transaction recorded in history. He should be led to inquire into these causes. He should feel and think with the actors, and know the motives which prompted them to action. Briefly, he must put himself in the midst of the scenes he would study.

Why is grammar universally such a bore to children? Simply because they are plied and crammed with rules and formulas and disconnected fragments of principles, and compelled to memorize pages of dry, wearisome "notes" and "observations" in which they see as little sense, and take as little interest, and consequently from which they gain about as little knowledge, as they might from so many pages of Indian hieroglyphics.

If grammar is, technically, the science of language, then why not study language the language which we use daily, the combinations, relations and offices of the words which we employ in our common conversation?

The study of language should be commenced long before the child is given a grammatical text-book. In arithmetic we must penetrate beyond mere abstract ideas of numbers, and deal with the objects and the combinations, relations and properties of objects which call into use numbers and computations.

In short, there is no branch of study but what, the less it is confined to books and the more it is directed to the objects, circumstances or principles, the better it will be mastered.-National Teachers' Monthly.

GRAPHIC.

land bad, but is worse.

own land, the land owns him;

No the genius of reading and of gardening are antagonistic, like resinous and

viterous electricity. One is concentrative in sparks and shocks; the other is diffuse strength; so that each disqualifies the workman for the other's duties.— Emerson.

Polonius. What do you read, my lord?

Hamlet. Words, words, words.-Shakespeare.

LETTUCE is to me a most interesting study. Lettuce is like conversation: it must be fresh and crisp, so sparkling that you scarcely notice the bitter in it. Lettuce, like most talkers, is, however, apt to run rapidly to seed. Blessed is that sort which comes to a head and so remains, like a few people I know, grow