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diff --git a/old/53910-0.txt b/old/53910-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 91e701b..0000000 --- a/old/53910-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2757 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The School and Society, by John Dewey - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The School and Society - Being three lectures - -Author: John Dewey - -Release Date: January 7, 2017 [EBook #53910] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SCHOOL AND SOCIETY *** - - - - -Produced by Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - THE SCHOOL AND SOCIETY - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO PRESS - CHICAGO, ILLINOIS - - - Agents - - THE CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS - LONDON AND EDINBURGH - - THE MARUZEN-KABUSHIKI-KAISHA - TOKYO, OSAKA, KYOTO - - KARL W. HIERSEMANN - LEIPZIG - - THE BAKER & TAYLOR COMPANY - NEW YORK - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - _The_ - _SCHOOL_ - _and_ - _SOCIETY_ - _BEING THREE LECTURES_ - - - _by_ - - JOHN DEWEY - - _SUPPLEMENTED BY_ - A STATEMENT OF THE UNIVERSITY ELEMENTARY SCHOOL - - THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO PRESS - CHICAGO, ILLINOIS - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - COPYRIGHT 1900 BY - JOHN DEWEY - - All Rights Reserved - - FIRST EDITION -–1,000 copies. Printed November, 1899. - SECOND IMPRESSION -–1,500 copies. Printed February, 1900. - THIRD IMPRESSION -–5,000 copies. Printed July, 1900. - FOURTH IMPRESSION -–1,000 copies. Printed June, 1904. - FIFTH IMPRESSION -–2,500 copies. Printed February, 1905. - SIXTH IMPRESSION -–2,500 copies. Printed August, 1907. - SEVENTH IMPRESSION -–1,000 copies. Printed September, 1909. - EIGHTH IMPRESSION -–1,000 copies. Printed August, 1910. - NINTH IMPRESSION -–1,000 copies. Printed August, 1911. - TENTH IMPRESSION -–1,000 copies. Printed March, 1912. - ELEVENTH IMPRESSION -–2,000 copies. Printed August, 1913. - - - Composed and Printed By - The University of Chicago Press - Chicago, Illinois, U.S.A. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - TO - - MRS. EMMONS BLAINE - - TO WHOSE INTEREST IN EDUCATIONAL - REFORM - THE APPEARANCE OF THIS BOOK - IS DUE - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - CONTENTS - - - PAGE - I. THE SCHOOL AND SOCIAL PROGRESS 19 - - II. THE SCHOOL AND THE LIFE OF THE CHILD 47 - - III. WASTE IN EDUCATION 77 - - IV. THREE YEARS OF THE UNIVERSITY ELEMENTARY SCHOOL 113 - - - - - LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - - - FACING PAGE - - DRAWING OF A CAVE AND TREES 56 - - DRAWING OF A FOREST 58 - - DRAWING OF HANDS SPINNING 60 - - DRAWING OF A GIRL SPINNING 62 - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - PUBLISHER’S NOTE - - -The three lectures presented in the following pages were delivered -before an audience of parents and others interested in the University -Elementary School, in the month of April of the year 1899. Mr. Dewey -revised them in part from a stenographic report, and unimportant changes -and the slight adaptations necessary for the press have been made in his -absence. The lectures retain therefore the unstudied character as well -as the power of the spoken word. As they imply more or less familiarity -with the work of the Elementary School, Mr. Dewey’s supplementary -statement of this has been added. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - AUTHOR’S NOTE - - -A second edition affords a grateful opportunity for recalling that this -little book is a sign of the coöperating thoughts and sympathies of many -persons. Its indebtedness to Mrs. Emmons Blaine is partly indicated in -the dedication. From my friends, Mr. and Mrs. George Herbert Mead, came -that interest, unflagging attention to detail, and artistic taste which, -in my absence, remade colloquial remarks until they were fit to print, -and then saw the results through the press with the present attractive -result—a mode of authorship made easy, which I recommend to others -fortunate enough to possess such friends. - -It would be an extended paragraph which should list all the friends -whose timely and persisting generosity has made possible the school -which inspired and defined the ideas of these pages. These friends, I am -sure, would be the first to recognize the peculiar appropriateness of -especial mention of the names of Mrs. Charles R. Crane and Mrs. William -R. Linn. - -And the school itself in its educational work is a joint undertaking. -Many have engaged in shaping it. The clear and experienced intelligence -of my wife is wrought everywhere into its texture. The wisdom, tact and -devotion of its instructors have brought about a transformation of its -original amorphous plans into articulate form and substance with life -and movement of their own. Whatever the issue of the ideas presented in -this book, the satisfaction coming from the coöperation of the diverse -thoughts and deeds of many persons in undertaking to enlarge the life of -the child will abide. - - January 5, 1900 - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - I - THE SCHOOL AND SOCIAL PROGRESS - - -We are apt to look at the school from an individualistic standpoint, as -something between teacher and pupil, or between teacher and parent. That -which interests us most is naturally the progress made by the individual -child of our acquaintance, his normal physical development, his advance -in ability to read, write, and figure, his growth in the knowledge of -geography and history, improvement in manners, habits of promptness, -order, and industry—it is from such standards as these that we judge the -work of the school. And rightly so. Yet the range of the outlook needs -to be enlarged. What the best and wisest parent wants for his own child, -that must the community want for all of its children. Any other ideal -for our schools is narrow and unlovely; acted upon, it destroys our -democracy. All that society has accomplished for itself is put, through -the agency of the school, at the disposal of its future members. All its -better thoughts of itself it hopes to realize through the new -possibilities thus opened to its future self. Here individualism and -socialism are at one. Only by being true to the full growth of all the -individuals who make it up, can society by any chance be true to itself. -And in the self-direction thus given, nothing counts as much as the -school, for, as Horace Mann said, “Where anything is growing, one former -is worth a thousand re-formers,” - -Whenever we have in mind the discussion of a new movement in education, -it is especially necessary to take the broader, or social view. -Otherwise, changes in the school institution and tradition will be -looked at as the arbitrary inventions of particular teachers; at the -worst transitory fads, and at the best merely improvements in certain -details—and this is the plane upon which it is too customary to consider -school changes. It is as rational to conceive of the locomotive or the -telegraph as personal devices. The modification going on in the method -and curriculum of education is as much a product of the changed social -situation, and as much an effort to meet the needs of the new society -that is forming, as are changes in modes of industry and commerce. - -It is to this, then, that I especially ask your attention: the effort to -conceive what roughly may be termed the “New Education” in the light of -larger changes in society. Can we connect this “New Education” with the -general march of events? If we can, it will lose its isolated character, -and will cease to be an affair which proceeds only from the -over-ingenious minds of pedagogues dealing with particular pupils. It -will appear as part and parcel of the whole social evolution, and, in -its more general features at least, as inevitable. Let us then ask after -the main aspects of the social movement; and afterwards turn to the -school to find what witness it gives of effort to put itself in line. -And since it is quite impossible to cover the whole ground, I shall for -the most part confine myself to one typical thing in the modern school -movement—that which passes under the name of manual training, hoping if -the relation of that to changed social conditions appears, we shall be -ready to concede the point as well regarding other educational -innovations. - -I make no apology for not dwelling at length upon the social changes in -question. Those I shall mention are writ so large that he who runs may -read. The change that comes first to mind, the one that overshadows and -even controls all others, is the industrial one—the application of -science resulting in the great inventions that have utilized the forces -of nature on a vast and inexpensive scale: the growth of a world-wide -market as the object of production, of vast manufacturing centers to -supply this market, of cheap and rapid means of communication and -distribution between all its parts. Even as to its feebler beginnings, -this change is not much more than a century old; in many of its most -important aspects it falls within the short span of those now living. -One can hardly believe there has been a revolution in all history so -rapid, so extensive, so complete. Through it the face of the earth is -making over, even as to its physical forms; political boundaries are -wiped out and moved about, as if they were indeed only lines on a paper -map; population is hurriedly gathered into cities from the ends of the -earth; habits of living are altered with startling abruptness and -thoroughness; the search for the truths of nature is infinitely -stimulated and facilitated and their application to life made not only -practicable, but commercially necessary. Even our moral and religious -ideas and interests, the most conservative because the deepest-lying -things in our nature, are profoundly affected. That this revolution -should not affect education in other than formal and superficial fashion -is inconceivable. - -Back of the factory system lies the household and neighborhood system. -Those of us who are here today need go back only one, two, or at most -three generations, to find a time when the household was practically the -center in which were carried on, or about which were clustered, all the -typical forms of industrial occupation. The clothing worn was for the -most part not only made in the house, but the members of the household -were usually familiar with the shearing of the sheep, the carding and -spinning of the wool, and the plying of the loom. Instead of pressing a -button and flooding the house with electric light, the whole process of -getting illumination was followed in its toilsome length, from the -killing of the animal and the trying of fat, to the making of wicks and -dipping of candles. The supply of flour, of lumber, of foods, of -building materials, of household furniture, even of metal ware, of -nails, hinges, hammers, etc., was in the immediate neighborhood, in -shops which were constantly open to inspection and often centers of -neighborhood congregation. The entire industrial process stood revealed, -from the production on the farm of the raw materials, till the finished -article was actually put to use. Not only this, but practically every -member of the household had his own share in the work. The children, as -they gained in strength and capacity, were gradually initiated into the -mysteries of the several processes. It was a matter of immediate and -personal concern, even to the point of actual participation. - -We cannot overlook the factors of discipline and of character-building -involved in this: training in habits of order and of industry, and in -the idea of responsibility, of obligation to do something, to produce -something, in the world. There was always something which really needed -to be done, and a real necessity that each member of the household -should do his own part faithfully and in coöperation with others. -Personalities which became effective in action were bred and tested in -the medium of action. Again, we cannot overlook the importance for -educational purposes of the close and intimate acquaintance got with -nature at first hand, with real things and materials, with the actual -processes of their manipulation, and the knowledge of their social -necessities and uses. In all this there was continual training of -observation, of ingenuity, constructive imagination, of logical thought, -and of the sense of reality acquired through first-hand contact with -actualities. The educative forces of the domestic spinning and weaving, -of the saw-mill, the gristmill, the cooper shop, and the blacksmith -forge, were continuously operative. - -No number of object-lessons, got up _as_ object-lessons for the sake of -giving information, can afford even the shadow of a substitute for -acquaintance with the plants and animals of the farm and garden, -acquired through actual living among them and caring for them. No -training of sense-organs in school, introduced for the sake of training, -can begin to compete with the alertness and fullness of sense-life that -comes through daily intimacy and interest in familiar occupations. -Verbal memory can be trained in committing tasks, a certain discipline -of the reasoning powers can be acquired through lessons in science and -mathematics; but, after all, this is somewhat remote and shadowy -compared with the training of attention and of judgment that is acquired -in having to do things with a real motive behind and a real outcome -ahead. At present, concentration of industry and division of labor have -practically eliminated household and neighborhood occupations—at least -for educational purposes. But it is useless to bemoan the departure of -the good old days of children’s modesty, reverence, and implicit -obedience, if we expect merely by bemoaning and by exhortation to bring -them back. It is radical conditions which have changed, and only an -equally radical change in education suffices. We must recognize our -compensations—the increase in toleration, in breadth of social judgment, -the larger acquaintance with human nature, the sharpened alertness in -reading signs of character and interpreting social situations, greater -accuracy of adaptation to differing personalities, contact with greater -commercial activities. These considerations mean much to the city-bred -child of today. Yet there is a real problem: how shall we retain these -advantages, and yet introduce into the school something representing the -other side of life—occupations which exact personal responsibilities and -which train the child with relation to the physical realities of life? - -When we turn to the school, we find that one of the most striking -tendencies at present is toward the introduction of so-called manual -training, shop-work, and the household arts—sewing and cooking. - -This has not been done “on purpose,” with a full consciousness that the -school must now supply that factor of training formerly taken care of in -the home, but rather by instinct, by experimenting and finding that such -work takes a vital hold of pupils and gives them something which was not -to be got in any other way. Consciousness of its real import is still so -weak that the work is often done in a half-hearted, confused, and -unrelated way. The reasons assigned to justify it are painfully -inadequate or sometimes even positively wrong. - -If we were to cross-examine even those who are most favorably disposed -to the introduction of this work into our school system, we should, I -imagine, generally find the main reasons to be that such work engages -the full spontaneous interest and attention of the children. It keeps -them alert and active, instead of passive and receptive; it makes them -more useful, more capable, and hence more inclined to be helpful at -home; it prepares them to some extent for the practical duties of later -life—the girls to be more efficient house managers, if not actually -cooks and sempstresses; the boys (were our educational system only -adequately rounded out into trade schools) for their future vocations. I -do not underestimate the worth of these reasons. Of those indicated by -the changed attitude of the children I shall indeed have something to -say in my next talk, when speaking directly of the relationship of the -school to the child. But the point of view is, upon the whole, -unnecessarily narrow. We must conceive of work in wood and metal, of -weaving, sewing, and cooking, as methods of life not as distinct -studies. - -We must conceive of them in their social significance, as types of the -processes by which society keeps itself going, as agencies for bringing -home to the child some of the primal necessities of community life, and -as ways in which these needs have been met by the growing insight and -ingenuity of man; in short, as instrumentalities through which the -school itself shall be made a genuine form of active community life, -instead of a place set apart in which to learn lessons. - -A society is a number of people held together because they are working -along common lines, in a common spirit, and with reference to common -aims. The common needs and aims demand a growing interchange of thought -and growing unity of sympathetic feeling. The radical reason that the -present school cannot organize itself as a natural social unit is -because just this element of common and productive activity is absent. -Upon the playground, in game and sport, social organization takes place -spontaneously and inevitably. There is something to do, some activity to -be carried on, requiring natural divisions of labor, selection of -leaders and followers, mutual coöperation and emulation. In the -schoolroom the motive and the cement of social organization are alike -wanting. Upon the ethical side, the tragic weakness of the present -school is that it endeavors to prepare future members of the social -order in a medium in which the conditions of the social spirit are -eminently wanting. - -The difference that appears when occupations are made the articulating -centers of school life is not easy to describe in words; it is a -difference in motive, of spirit and atmosphere. As one enters a busy -kitchen in which a group of children are actively engaged in the -preparation of food, the psychological difference, the change from more -or less passive and inert recipiency and restraint to one of buoyant -outgoing energy, is so obvious as fairly to strike one in the face. -Indeed, to those whose image of the school is rigidly set the change is -sure to give a shock. But the change in the social attitude is equally -marked. The mere absorption of facts and truths is so exclusively -individual an affair that it tends very naturally to pass into -selfishness. There is no obvious social motive for the acquirement of -mere learning, there is no clear social gain in success thereat. Indeed, -almost the only measure for success is a competitive one, in the bad -sense of that term—a comparison of results in the recitation or in the -examination to see which child has succeeded in getting ahead of others -in storing up, in accumulating the maximum of information. So thoroughly -is this the prevalent atmosphere that for one child to help another in -his task has become a school crime. Where the school work consists in -simply learning lessons, mutual assistance, instead of being the most -natural form of coöperation and association, becomes a clandestine -effort to relieve one’s neighbor of his proper duties. Where active work -is going on all this is changed. Helping others, instead of being a form -of charity which impoverishes the recipient, is simply an aid in setting -free the powers and furthering the impulse of the one helped. A spirit -of free communication, of interchange of ideas, suggestions, results, -both successes and failures of previous experiences, becomes the -dominating note of the recitation. So far as emulation enters in, it is -in the comparison of individuals, not with regard to the quantity of -information personally absorbed, but with reference to the quality of -work done—the genuine community standard of value. In an informal but -all the more pervasive way, the school life organizes itself on a social -basis. - -Within this organization is found the principle of school discipline or -order. Of course, order is simply a thing which is relative to an end. -If you have the end in view of forty or fifty children learning certain -set lessons, to be recited to a teacher, your discipline must be devoted -to securing that result. But if the end in view is the development of a -spirit of social coöperation and community life, discipline must grow -out of and be relative to this. There is little order of one sort where -things are in process of construction; there is a certain disorder in -any busy workshop; there is not silence; persons are not engaged in -maintaining certain fixed physical postures; their arms are not folded; -they are not holding their books thus and so. They are doing a variety -of things, and there is the confusion, the bustle, that results from -activity. But out of occupation, out of doing things that are to produce -results, and out of doing these in a social and coöperative way, there -is born a discipline of its own kind and type. Our whole conception of -school discipline changes when we get this point of view. In critical -moments we all realize that the only discipline that stands by us, the -only training that becomes intuition, is that got through life itself. -That we learn from experience, and from books or the sayings of others -_only_ as they are related to experience, are not mere phrases. But the -school has been so set apart, so isolated from the ordinary conditions -and motives of life, that the place where children are sent for -discipline is the one place in the world where it is most difficult to -get experience—the mother of all discipline worth the name. It is only -where a narrow and fixed image of traditional school discipline -dominates, that one is in any danger of overlooking that deeper and -infinitely wider discipline that comes from having a part to do in -constructive work, in contributing to a result which, social in spirit, -is none the less obvious and tangible in form—and hence in a form with -reference to which responsibility may be exacted and accurate judgment -passed. - -The great thing to keep in mind, then, regarding the introduction into -the school of various forms of active occupation, is that through them -the entire spirit of the school is renewed. It has a chance to affiliate -itself with life, to become the child’s habitat, where he learns through -directed living; instead of being only a place to learn lessons having -an abstract and remote reference to some possible living to be done in -the future. It gets a chance to be a miniature community, an embryonic -society. This is the fundamental fact, and from this arise continuous -and orderly sources of instruction. Under the industrial _régime_ -described, the child, after all, shared in the work, not for the sake of -the sharing, but for the sake of the product. The educational results -secured were real, yet incidental and dependent. But in the school the -typical occupations followed are freed from all economic stress. The aim -is not the economic value of the products, but the development of social -power and insight. It is this liberation from narrow utilities, this -openness to the possibilities of the human spirit that makes these -practical activities in the school allies of art and centers of science -and history. - -The unity of all the sciences is found in geography. The significance of -geography is that it presents the earth as the enduring home of the -occupations of man. The world without its relationship to human activity -is less than a world. Human industry and achievement, apart from their -roots in the earth, are not even a sentiment, hardly a name. The earth -is the final source of all man’s food. It is his continual shelter and -protection, the raw material of all his activities, and the home to -whose humanizing and idealizing all his achievement returns. It is the -great field, the great mine, the great source of the energies of heat, -light, and electricity; the great scene of ocean, stream, mountain, and -plain, of which all our agriculture and mining and lumbering, all our -manufacturing and distributing agencies, are but the partial elements -and factors. It is through occupations determined by this environment -that mankind has made its historical and political progress. It is -through these occupations that the intellectual and emotional -interpretation of nature has been developed. It is through what we do in -and with the world that we read its meaning and measure its value. - -In educational terms, this means that these occupations in the school -shall not be mere practical devices or modes of routine employment, the -gaining of better technical skill as cooks, sempstresses, or carpenters, -but active centers of scientific insight into natural materials and -processes, points of departure whence children shall be led out into a -realization of the historic development of man. The actual significance -of this can be told better through one illustration taken from actual -school work than by general discourse. - -There is nothing which strikes more oddly upon the average intelligent -visitor than to see boys as well as girls of ten, twelve, and thirteen -years of age engaged in sewing and weaving. If we look at this from the -standpoint of preparation of the boys for sewing on buttons and making -patches, we get a narrow and utilitarian conception—a basis that hardly -justifies giving prominence to this sort of work in the school. But if -we look at it from another side, we find that this work gives the point -of departure from which the child can trace and follow the progress of -mankind in history, getting an insight also into the materials used and -the mechanical principles involved. In connection with these -occupations, the historic development of man is recapitulated. For -example, the children are first given the raw material—the flax, the -cotton plant, the wool as it comes from the back of the sheep (if we -could take them to the place where the sheep are sheared, so much the -better). Then a study is made of these materials from the standpoint of -their adaptation to the uses to which they may be put. For instance, a -comparison of the cotton fiber with wool fiber is made. I did not know -until the children told me, that the reason for the late development of -the cotton industry as compared with the woolen is, that the cotton -fiber is so very difficult to free by hand from the seeds. The children -in one group worked thirty minutes freeing cotton fibers from the boll -and seeds, and succeeded in getting out less than one ounce. They could -easily believe that one person could only gin one pound a day by hand, -and could understand why their ancestors wore woolen instead of cotton -clothing. Among other things discovered as affecting their relative -utilities, was the shortness of the cotton fiber as compared with that -of wool, the former being one-tenth of an inch in length, while that of -the latter is an inch in length; also that the fibers of cotton are -smooth and do not cling together, while the wool has a certain roughness -which makes the fibers stick, thus assisting the spinning. The children -worked this out for themselves with the actual material, aided by -questions and suggestions from the teacher. - -They then followed the processes necessary for working the fibers up -into cloth. They re-invented the first frame for carding the wool—a -couple of boards with sharp pins in them for scratching it out. They -re-devised the simplest process for spinning the wool—a pierced stone or -some other weight through which the wool is passed, and which as it is -twirled draws out the fiber; next the top, which was spun on the floor, -while the children kept the wool in their hands until it was gradually -drawn out and wound upon it. Then the children are introduced to the -invention next in historic order, working it out experimentally, thus -seeing its necessity, and tracing its effects, not only upon that -particular industry, but upon modes of social life—in this way passing -in review the entire process up to the present complete loom, and all -that goes with the application of science in the use of our present -available powers. I need not speak of the science involved in this—the -study of the fibers, of geographical features, the conditions under -which raw materials are grown, the great centers of manufacture and -distribution, the physics involved in the machinery of production; nor, -again, of the historical side—the influence which these inventions have -had upon humanity. You can concentrate the history of all mankind into -the evolution of the flax, cotton, and wool fibers into clothing. I do -not mean that this is the only, or the best, center. But it is true that -certain very real and important avenues to the consideration of the -history of the race are thus opened—that the mind is introduced to much -more fundamental and controlling influences than usually appear in the -political and chronological records that pass for history. - -Now, what is true of this one instance of fibers used in fabrics (and, -of course, I have only spoken of one or two elementary phases of that) -is true in its measure of every material used in every occupation, and -of the processes employed. The occupation supplies the child with a -genuine motive; it gives him experience at first hand; it brings him -into contact with realities. It does all this, but in addition it is -liberalized throughout by translation into its historic values and -scientific equivalencies. With the growth of the child’s mind in power -and knowledge it ceases to be a pleasant occupation merely, and becomes -more and more a medium, an instrument, an organ—and is thereby -transformed. - -This, in turn, has its bearing upon the teaching of science. Under -present conditions, all activity, to be successful, has to be directed -somewhere and somehow by the scientific expert—it is a case of applied -science. This connection should determine its place in education. It is -not only that the occupations, the so-called manual or industrial work -in the school, give the opportunity for the introduction of science -which illuminates them, which makes them material, freighted with -meaning, instead of being mere devices of hand and eye; but that the -scientific insight thus gained becomes an indispensable instrument of -free and active participation in modern social life. Plato somewhere -speaks of the slave as one who in his actions does not express his own -ideas, but those of some other man. It is our social problem now, even -more urgent than in the time of Plato, that method, purpose, -understanding, shall exist in the consciousness of the one who does the -work, that his activity shall have meaning to himself. - -When occupations in the school are conceived in this broad and generous -way, I can only stand lost in wonder at the objections so often heard, -that such occupations are out of place in the school because they are -materialistic, utilitarian, or even menial in their tendency. It -sometimes seems to me that those who make these objections must live in -quite another world. The world in which most of us live is a world in -which everyone has a calling and occupation, something to do. Some are -managers and others are subordinates. But the great thing for one as for -the other is that each shall have had the education which enables him to -see within his daily work all there is in it of large and human -significance. How many of the employed are today mere appendages to the -machines which they operate! This may be due in part to the machine -itself, or to the _régime_ which lays so much stress upon the products -of the machine; but it is certainly due in large part to the fact that -the worker has had no opportunity to develop his imagination and his -sympathetic insight as to the social and scientific values found in his -work. At present, the impulses which lie at the basis of the industrial -system are either practically neglected or positively distorted during -the school period. Until the instincts of construction and production -are systematically laid hold of in the years of childhood and youth, -until they are trained in social directions, enriched by historical -interpretation, controlled and illuminated by scientific methods, we -certainly are in no position even to locate the source of our economic -evils, much less to deal with them effectively. - -If we go back a few centuries, we find a practical monopoly of learning. -The term _possession_ of learning was, indeed, a happy one. Learning was -a class matter. This was a necessary result of social conditions. There -were not in existence any means by which the multitude could possibly -have access to intellectual resources. These were stored up and hidden -away in manuscripts. Of these there were at best only a few, and it -required long and toilsome preparation to be able to do anything with -them. A high-priesthood of learning, which guarded the treasury of truth -and which doled it out to the masses under severe restrictions, was the -inevitable expression of these conditions. But, as a direct result of -the industrial revolution of which we have been speaking, this has been -changed. Printing was invented; it was made commercial. Books, -magazines, papers were multiplied and cheapened. As a result of the -locomotive and telegraph, frequent, rapid, and cheap intercommunication -by mails and electricity was called into being. Travel has been rendered -easy; freedom of movement, with its accompanying exchange of ideas, -indefinitely facilitated. The result has been an intellectual -revolution. Learning has been put into circulation. While there still -is, and probably always will be, a particular class having the special -business of inquiry in hand, a distinctively learned class is henceforth -out of the question. It is an anachronism. Knowledge is no longer an -immobile solid; it has been liquefied. It is actively moving in all the -currents of society itself. - -It is easy to see that this revolution, as regards the materials of -knowledge, carries with it a marked change in the attitude of the -individual. Stimuli of an intellectual sort pour in upon us in all kinds -of ways. The merely intellectual life, the life of scholarship and of -learning, thus gets a very altered value. Academic and scholastic, -instead of being titles of honor, are becoming terms of reproach. - -But all this means a necessary change in the attitude of the school, one -of which we are as yet far from realizing the full force. Our school -methods, and to a very considerable extent our curriculum, are inherited -from the period when learning and command of certain symbols, affording -as they did the only access to learning, were all-important. The ideals -of this period are still largely in control, even where the outward -methods and studies have been changed. We sometimes hear the -introduction of manual training, art and science into the elementary, -and even the secondary schools, deprecated on the ground that they tend -toward the production of specialists—that they detract from our present -scheme of generous, liberal culture. The point of this objection would -be ludicrous if it were not often so effective as to make it tragic. It -is our present education which is highly specialized, one-sided and -narrow. It is an education dominated almost entirely by the mediæval -conception of learning. It is something which appeals for the most part -simply to the intellectual aspect of our natures, our desire to learn, -to accumulate information, and to get control of the symbols of -learning; not to our impulses and tendencies to make, to do, to create, -to produce, whether in the form of utility or of art. The very fact that -manual training, art and science are objected to as technical, as -tending toward mere specialism, is of itself as good testimony as could -be offered to the specialized aim which controls current education. -Unless education had been virtually identified with the exclusively -intellectual pursuits, with learning as such, all these materials and -methods would be welcome, would be greeted with the utmost hospitality. - -While training for the profession of learning is regarded as the type of -culture, as a liberal education, that of a mechanic, a musician, a -lawyer, a doctor, a farmer, a merchant, or a railroad manager is -regarded as purely technical and professional. The result is that which -we see about us everywhere—the division into “cultured” people and -“workers,” the separation of theory and practice. Hardly one per cent. -of the entire school population ever attains to what we call higher -education; only five per cent. to the grade of our high school; while -much more than half leave on or before the completion of the fifth year -of the elementary grade. The simple facts of the case are that in the -great majority of human beings the distinctively intellectual interest -is not dominant. They have the so-called practical impulse and -disposition. In many of those in whom by nature intellectual interest is -strong, social conditions prevent its adequate realization. Consequently -by far the larger number of pupils leave school as soon as they have -acquired the rudiments of learning, as soon as they have enough of the -symbols of reading, writing, and calculating to be of practical use to -them in getting a living. While our educational leaders are talking of -culture, the development of personality, etc., as the end and aim of -education, the great majority of those who pass under the tuition of the -school regard it only as a narrowly practical tool with which to get -bread and butter enough to eke out a restricted life. If we were to -conceive our educational end and aim in a less exclusive way, if we were -to introduce into educational processes the activities which appeal to -those whose dominant interest is to do and to make, we should find the -hold of the school upon its members to be more vital, more prolonged, -containing more of culture. - -But why should I make this labored presentation? The obvious fact is -that our social life has undergone a thorough and radical change. If our -education is to have any meaning for life, it must pass through an -equally complete transformation. This transformation is not something to -appear suddenly, to be executed in a day by conscious purpose. It is -already in progress. Those modifications of our school system which -often appear (even to those most actively concerned with them, to say -nothing of their spectators) to be mere changes of detail, mere -improvement within the school mechanism, are in reality signs and -evidences of evolution. The introduction of active occupations, of -nature study, of elementary science, of art, of history; the relegation -of the merely symbolic and formal to a secondary position; the change in -the moral school atmosphere, in the relation of pupils and teachers—of -discipline; the introduction of more active, expressive, and -self-directing factors—all these are not mere accidents, they are -necessities of the larger social evolution. It remains but to organize -all these factors, to appreciate them in their fullness of meaning, and -to put the ideas and ideals involved into complete, uncompromising -possession of our school system. To do this means to make each one of -our schools an embryonic community life, active with types of -occupations that reflect the life of the larger society, and permeated -throughout with the spirit of art, history, and science. When the school -introduces and trains each child of society into membership within such -a little community, saturating him with the spirit of service, and -providing him with the instruments of effective self-direction, we shall -have the deepest and best guarantee of a larger society which is worthy, -lovely, and harmonious. - - - - - II - THE SCHOOL AND THE LIFE OF THE CHILD - - -Last week I tried to put before you the relationship between the school -and the larger life of the community, and the necessity for certain -changes in the methods and materials of school work, that it might be -better adapted to present social needs. - -Today I wish to look at the matter from the other side, and consider the -relationship of the school to the life and development of the children -in the school. As it is difficult to connect general principles with -such thoroughly concrete things as little children, I have taken the -liberty of introducing a good deal of illustrative matter from the work -of the University Elementary School, that in some measure you may -appreciate the way in which the ideas presented work themselves out in -actual practice. - -Some few years ago I was looking about the school supply stores in the -city, trying to find desks and chairs which seemed thoroughly suitable -from all points of view—artistic, hygienic, and educational—to the needs -of the children. We had a good deal of difficulty in finding what we -needed, and finally one dealer, more intelligent than the rest, made -this remark: “I am afraid we have not what you want. You want something -at which the children may work; these are all for listening.” That tells -the story of the traditional education. Just as the biologist can take a -bone or two and reconstruct the whole animal, so, if we put before the -mind’s eye the ordinary schoolroom, with its rows of ugly desks placed -in geometrical order, crowded together so that there shall be as little -moving room as possible, desks almost all of the same size, with just -space enough to hold books, pencils and paper, and add a table, some -chairs, the bare walls, and possibly a few pictures, we can reconstruct -the only educational activity that can possibly go on in such a place. -It is all made “for listening”—for simply studying lessons out of a book -is only another kind of listening; it marks the dependency of one mind -upon another. The attitude of listening means, comparatively speaking, -passivity, absorption; that there are certain ready-made materials which -are there, which have been prepared by the school superintendent, the -board, the teacher, and of which the child is to take in as much as -possible in the least possible time. - -There is very little place in the traditional schoolroom for the child -to work. The workshop, the laboratory, the materials, the tools with -which the child may construct, create, and actively inquire, and even -the requisite space, have been for the most part lacking. The things -that have to do with these processes have not even a definitely -recognized place in education. They are what the educational authorities -who write editorials in the daily papers generally term “fads” and -“frills.” A lady told me yesterday that she had been visiting different -schools trying to find one where activity on the part of the children -preceded the giving of information on the part of the teacher, or where -the children had some motive for demanding the information. She visited, -she said, twenty-four different schools before she found her first -instance. I may add that that was not in this city. - -Another thing that is suggested by these schoolrooms, with their set -desks, is that everything is arranged for handling as large numbers of -children as possible; for dealing with children _en masse_, as an -aggregate of units; involving, again, that they be treated passively. -The moment children act they individualize themselves; they cease to be -a mass, and become the intensely distinctive beings that we are -acquainted with out of school, in the home, the family, on the -playground, and in the neighborhood. - -On the same basis is explicable the uniformity of method and curriculum. -If everything is on a “listening” basis, you can have uniformity of -material and method. The ear, and the book which reflects the ear, -constitute the medium which is alike for all. There is next to no -opportunity for adjustment to varying capacities and demands. There is a -certain amount—a fixed quantity—of ready-made results and -accomplishments to be acquired by all children alike in a given time. It -is in response to this demand that the curriculum has been developed -from the elementary school up through the college. There is just so much -desirable knowledge, and there are just so many needed technical -accomplishments in the world. Then comes the mathematical problem of -dividing this by the six, twelve, or sixteen years of school life. Now -give the children every year just the proportionate fraction of the -total, and by the time they have finished they will have mastered the -whole. By covering so much ground during this hour or day or week or -year, everything comes out with perfect evenness at the end—provided the -children have not forgotten what they have previously learned. The -outcome of all this is Matthew Arnold’s report of the statement, proudly -made to him by an educational authority in France, that so many -thousands of children were studying at a given hour, say eleven o’clock, -just such a lesson in geography; and in one of our own western cities -this proud boast used to be repeated to successive visitors by its -superintendent. - -I may have exaggerated somewhat in order to make plain the typical -points of the old education: its passivity of attitude, its mechanical -massing of children, its uniformity of curriculum and method. It may be -summed up by stating that the center of gravity is outside the child. It -is in the teacher, the text-book, anywhere and everywhere you please -except in the immediate instincts and activities of the child himself. -On that basis there is not much to be said about the _life_ of the -child. A good deal might be said about the studying of the child, but -the school is not the place where the child _lives_. Now the change -which is coming into our education is the shifting of the center of -gravity. It is a change, a revolution, not unlike that introduced by -Copernicus when the astronomical center shifted from the earth to the -sun. In this case the child becomes the sun about which the appliances -of education revolve; he is the center about which they are organized. - -If we take an example from an ideal home, where the parent is -intelligent enough to recognize what is best for the child, and is able -to supply what is needed, we find the child learning through the social -converse and constitution of the family. There are certain points of -interest and value to him in the conversation carried on: statements are -made, inquiries arise, topics are discussed, and the child continually -learns. He states his experiences, his misconceptions are corrected. -Again the child participates in the household occupations, and thereby -gets habits of industry, order, and regard for the rights and ideas of -others, and the fundamental habit of subordinating his activities to the -general interest of the household. Participation in these household -tasks becomes an opportunity for gaining knowledge. The ideal home would -naturally have a workshop where the child could work out his -constructive instincts. It would have a miniature laboratory in which -his inquiries could be directed. The life of the child would extend out -of doors to the garden, surrounding fields, and forests. He would have -his excursions, his walks and talks, in which the larger world out of -doors would open to him. - -Now, if we organize and generalize all of this, we have the ideal -school. There is no mystery about it, no wonderful discovery of pedagogy -or educational theory. It is simply a question of doing systematically -and in a large, intelligent, and competent way what for various reasons -can be done in most households only in a comparatively meager and -haphazard manner. In the first place, the ideal home has to be enlarged. -The child must be brought into contact with more grown people and with -more children in order that there may be the freest and richest social -life. Moreover, the occupations and relationships of the home -environment are not specially selected for the growth of the child; the -main object is something else, and what the child can get out of them is -incidental. Hence the need of a school. In this school the life of the -child becomes the all-controlling aim. All the media necessary to -further the growth of the child center there. Learning?—certainly, but -living primarily, and learning through and in relation to this living. -When we take the life of the child centered and organized in this way, -we do not find that he is first of all a listening being; quite the -contrary. - -The statement so frequently made that education means “drawing out” is -excellent, if we mean simply to contrast it with the process of pouring -in. But, after all, it is difficult to connect the idea of drawing out -with the ordinary doings of the child of three, four, seven, or eight -years of age. He is already running over, spilling over, with activities -of all kinds. He is not a purely latent being whom the adult has to -approach with great caution and skill in order gradually to draw out -some hidden germ of activity. The child is already intensely active, and -the question of education is the question of taking hold of his -activities, of giving them direction. Through direction, through -organized use, they tend toward valuable results, instead of scattering -or being left to merely impulsive expression. - -If we keep this before us, the difficulty I find uppermost in the minds -of many people regarding what is termed the new education is not so much -solved as dissolved; it disappears. A question often asked is: if you -begin with the child’s ideas, impulses and interests, all so crude, so -random and scattering, so little refined or spiritualized, how is he -going to get the necessary discipline, culture and information? If there -were no way open to us except to excite and indulge these impulses of -the child, the question might well be asked. We should either have to -ignore and repress the activities, or else to humor them. But if we have -organization of equipment and of materials, there is another path open -to us. We can direct the child’s activities, giving them exercise along -certain lines, and can thus lead up to the goal which logically stands -at the end of the paths followed. - -“If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.” Since they are not, since -really to satisfy an impulse or interest means to work it out, and -working it out involves running up against obstacles, becoming -acquainted with materials, exercising ingenuity, patience, persistence, -alertness, it of necessity involves discipline—ordering of power—and -supplies knowledge. Take the example of the little child who wants to -make a box. If he stops short with the imagination or wish, he certainly -will not get discipline. But when he attempts to realize his impulse, it -is a question of making his idea definite, making it into a plan, of -taking the right kind of wood, measuring the parts needed, giving them -the necessary proportions, etc. There is involved the preparation of -materials, the sawing, planing, the sand-papering, making all the edges -and corners to fit. Knowledge of tools and processes is inevitable. If -the child realizes his instinct and makes the box, there is plenty of -opportunity to gain discipline and perseverance, to exercise effort in -overcoming obstacles, and to attain as well a great deal of information. - -So undoubtedly the little child who thinks he would like to cook has -little idea of what it means or costs, or what it requires. It is simply -a desire to “mess around,” perhaps to imitate the activities of older -people. And it is doubtless possible to let ourselves down to that level -and simply humor that interest. But here, too, if the impulse is -exercised, utilized, it runs up against the actual world of hard -conditions, to which it must accommodate itself; and there again come in -the factors of discipline and knowledge. One of the children became -impatient recently, at having to work things out by a long method of -experimentation, and said: “Why do we bother with this? Let’s follow a -recipe in a cook-book.” The teacher asked the children where the recipe -came from, and the conversation showed that if they simply followed this -they would not understand the reasons for what they were doing. They -were then quite willing to go on with the experimental work. To follow -that work will, indeed, give an illustration of just the point in -question. Their occupation happened that day to be the cooking of eggs, -as making a transition from the cooking of vegetables to that of meats. -In order to get a basis of comparison they first summarized the -constituent food elements in the vegetables and made a preliminary -comparison with those found in meat. Thus they found that the woody -fiber or cellulose in vegetables corresponded to the connective tissue -in meat, giving the element of form and structure. They found that -starch and starchy products were characteristic of the vegetables, that -mineral salts were found in both alike, and that there was fat in both—a -small quantity in vegetable food and a large amount in animal. They were -prepared then to take up the study of albumen as the characteristic -feature of animal food, corresponding to starch in the vegetables, and -were ready to consider the conditions requisite for the proper treatment -of albumen—the eggs serving as the material of experiment. - -[Illustration: CHILD’S DRAWING OF A CAVE AND TREES] - -They experimented first by taking water at various temperatures, finding -out when it was scalding, simmering, and boiling hot, and ascertained -the effect of the various degrees of temperature on the white of the -egg. That worked out, they were prepared, not simply to cook eggs, but -to understand the principle involved in the cooking of eggs. I do not -wish to lose sight of the universal in the particular incident. For the -child simply to desire to cook an egg, and accordingly drop it in water -for three minutes, and take it out when he is told, is not educative. -But for the child to realize his own impulse by recognizing the facts, -materials and conditions involved, and then to regulate his impulse -through that recognition, is educative. This is the difference, upon -which I wish to insist, between exciting or indulging an interest and -realizing it through its direction. - -Another instinct of the child is the use of pencil and paper. All -children like to express themselves through the medium of form and -color. If you simply indulge this interest by letting the child go on -indefinitely, there is no growth that is more than accidental. But let -the child first express his impulse, and then through criticism, -question, and suggestion bring him to consciousness of what he has done, -and what he needs to do, and the result is quite different. Here, for -example, is the work of a seven-year-old child. It is not average work, -it is the best work done among the little children, but it illustrates -the particular principle of which I have been speaking. They had been -talking about the primitive conditions of social life when people lived -in caves. The child’s idea of that found expression in this way: the -cave is neatly set up on the hill side in an impossible way. You see the -conventional tree of childhood; a vertical line with horizontal branches -on each side. If the child had been allowed to go on repeating this sort -of thing day by day, he would be indulging his instinct rather than -exercising it. But the child was now asked to look closely at trees, to -compare those seen with the one drawn, to examine more closely and -consciously into the conditions of his work. Then he drew trees from -observation. - -Finally he drew again from combined observation, memory, and -imagination. He made again a free illustration, expressing his own -imaginative thought, but controlled by detailed study of actual trees. -The result was a scene representing a bit of forest; so far as it goes, -it seems to me to have as much poetic feeling as the work of an adult, -while at the same time its trees are, in their proportions possible -ones, not mere symbols. - -[Illustration: CHILD’S DRAWING OF A FOREST] - -If we roughly classify the impulses which are available in the school, -we may group them under four heads. There is the social instinct of the -children as shown in conversation, personal intercourse, and -communication. We all know how self-centered the little child is at the -age of four or five. If any new subject is brought up, if he says -anything at all, it is: “I have seen that;” or, “My papa or mamma told -me about that.” His horizon is not large; an experience must come -immediately home to him, if he is to be sufficiently interested to -relate it to others and seek theirs in return. And yet the egoistic and -limited interest of little children is in this manner capable of -infinite expansion. The language instinct is the simplest form of the -social expression of the child. Hence it is a great, perhaps the -greatest of all educational resources. - -Then there is the instinct of making—the constructive impulse. The -child’s impulse to do finds expression first in play, in movement, -gesture, and make-believe, becomes more definite, and seeks outlet in -shaping materials into tangible forms and permanent embodiment. The -child has not much instinct for abstract inquiry. The instinct of -investigation seems to grow out of the combination of the constructive -impulse with the conversational. There is no distinction between -experimental science for little children and the work done in the -carpenter shop. Such work as they can do in physics or chemistry is not -for the purpose of making technical generalizations or even arriving at -abstract truths. Children simply like to do things, and watch to see -what will happen. But this can be taken advantage of, can be directed -into ways where it gives results of value, as well as be allowed to go -on at random. - -And so the expressive impulse of the children, the art instinct, grows -also out of the communicating and constructive instincts. It is their -refinement and full manifestation. Make the construction adequate, make -it full, free, and flexible, give it a social motive, something to tell, -and you have a work of art. Take one illustration of this in connection -with the textile work—sewing and weaving. The children made a primitive -loom in the shop; here the constructive instinct was appealed to. Then -they wished to do something with this loom, to make something. It was -the type of the Indian loom, and they were shown blankets woven by the -Indians. Each child made a design kindred in idea to those of the Navajo -blankets, and the one which seemed best adapted to the work in hand was -selected. The technical resources were limited, but the coloring and -form were worked out by the children. The example shown was made by the -twelve-year-old children. Examination shows that it took patience, -thoroughness, and perseverance to do the work. It involved not merely -discipline and information of both a historical sort and the elements of -technical design, but also something of the spirit of art in adequately -conveying an idea. - -[Illustration: CHILD’S DRAWING OF HANDS SPINNING] - -One more instance of the connection of the art side with the -constructive side. The children had been studying primitive spinning and -carding, when one of them, twelve years of age, made a picture of one of -the older children spinning. Here is another piece of work which is not -quite average; it is better than the average. It is an illustration of -two hands and the drawing out of the wool to get it ready for spinning. -This was done by a child eleven years of age. But, upon the whole, with -the younger children especially, the art impulse is connected mainly -with the social instinct—the desire to tell, to represent. - -[Illustration: CHILD’S DRAWING OF A GIRL SPINNING] - -Now, keeping in mind these fourfold interests—the interest in -conversation or communication; in inquiry, or finding out things; in -making things, or construction; and in artistic expression—we may say -they are the natural resources, the uninvested capital, upon the -exercise of which depends the active growth of the child. I wish to give -one or two illustrations, the first from the work of children seven -years of age. It illustrates in a way the dominant desire of the -children to talk, particularly about folks and of things in relation to -folks. If you observe little children, you will find they are interested -in the world of things mainly in its connection with people, as a -background and medium of human concerns. Many anthropologists have told -us there are certain identities in the child interests with those of -primitive life. There is a sort or natural recurrence of the child mind -to the typical activities of primitive peoples; witness the hut which -the boy likes to build in the yard, playing hunt, with bows, arrows, -spears, and so on. Again the question comes: What are we to do with this -interest—are we to ignore it, or just excite and draw it out? Or shall -we get hold of it and direct it to something ahead, something better? -Some of the work that has been planned for our seven-year-old children -has the latter end in view—to utilize this interest so that it shall -become a means of seeing the progress of the human race. The children -begin by imagining present conditions taken away until they are in -contact with nature at first hand. That takes them back to a hunting -people, to a people living in caves or trees and getting a precarious -subsistence by hunting and fishing. They imagine as far as possible the -various natural physical conditions adapted to that sort of life; say, a -hilly, woody slope, near mountains and a river where fish would be -abundant. Then they go on in imagination through the hunting to the -semi-agricultural stage, and through the nomadic to the settled -agricultural stage. The point I wish to make is that there is abundant -opportunity thus given for actual study, for inquiry which results in -gaining information. So, while the instinct primarily appeals to the -social side, the interest of the child in people and their doings is -carried on into the larger world of reality. For example, the children -had some idea of primitive weapons, of the stone arrowhead, etc. That -provided occasion for the testing of materials as regards their -friability, their shape, texture, etc., resulting in a lesson in -mineralogy, as they examined the different stones to find which was best -suited to the purpose. The discussion of the iron age supplied a demand -for the construction of a smelting oven made out of clay, and of -considerable size. As the children did not get their drafts right at -first, the mouth of the furnace not being in proper relation to the -vent, as to size and position, instruction in the principles of -combustion, the nature of drafts and of fuel, was required. Yet the -instruction was not given ready-made; it was first needed, and then -arrived at experimentally. Then the children took some material, such as -copper, and went through a series of experiments, fusing it, working it -into objects; and the same experiments were made with lead and other -metals. This work has been also a continuous course in geography, since -the children have had to imagine and work out the various physical -conditions necessary to the different forms of social life implied. What -would be the physical conditions appropriate to pastoral life? to the -beginning of agriculture? to fishing? What would be the natural method -of exchange between these peoples? Having worked out such points in -conversation, they have afterward represented them in maps and -sand-molding. Thus they have gained ideas of the various forms of the -configuration of the earth, and at the same time have seen them in their -relation to human activity, so that they are not simply external facts, -but are fused and welded with social conceptions regarding the life and -progress of humanity. The result, to my mind, justifies completely the -conviction that children, in a year of such work (of five hours a week -altogether), get indefinitely more acquaintance with facts of science, -geography, and anthropology than they get where information is the -professed end and object, where they are simply set to learning facts in -fixed lessons. As to discipline, they get more training of attention, -more power of interpretation, of drawing inferences, of acute -observation and continuous reflection, than if they were put to working -out arbitrary problems simply for the sake of discipline. - -I should like at this point to refer to the recitation. We all know what -it has been—a placer where the child shows off to the teacher and the -other children the amount of information he has succeeded in -assimilating from the text-book. From this other standpoint, the -recitation becomes preëminently a social meeting place; it is to the -school what the spontaneous conversation is at home, excepting that it -is more organized, following definite lines. The recitation becomes the -social clearing-house, where experiences and ideas are exchanged and -subjected to criticism, where misconceptions are corrected, and new -lines of thought and inquiry are set up. - -This change of the recitation from an examination of knowledge already -acquired to the free play of the children’s communicative instinct, -affects and modifies all the language work of the school. Under the old -_régime_ it was unquestionably a most serious problem to give the -children a full and free use of language. The reason was obvious. The -natural motive for language was seldom offered. In the pedagogical -text-books language is defined as the medium of expressing thought. It -becomes that, more or less, to adults with trained minds, but it hardly -needs to be said that language is primarily a social thing, a means by -which we give our experiences to others and get theirs again in return. -When it is taken from its natural basis, it is no wonder that it becomes -a complex and difficult problem to teach language. Think of the -absurdity of having to teach language as a thing by itself. If there is -anything the child will do before he goes to school, it is to talk of -the things that interest him. But when there are no vital interests -appealed to in the school, when language is used simply for the -repetition of lessons, it is not surprising that one of the chief -difficulties of school work has come to be instruction in the -mother-tongue. Since the language taught is unnatural, not growing out -of the real desire to communicate vital impressions and convictions, the -freedom of children in its use gradually disappears, until finally the -high-school teacher has to invent all kinds of devices to assist in -getting any spontaneous and full use of speech. Moreover, when the -language instinct is appealed to in a social way, there is a continual -contact with reality. The result is that the child always has something -in his mind to talk about, he has something to say; he has a thought to -express, and a thought is not a thought unless it is one’s own. On the -traditional method, the child must say something that he has merely -learned. There is all the difference in the world between having -something to say and having to say something. The child who has a -variety of materials and facts wants to talk about them, and his -language becomes more refined and full, because it is controlled and -informed by realities. Reading and writing, as well as the oral use of -language, may be taught on this basis. It can be done in a _related_ -way, as the outgrowth of the child’s social desire to recount his -experiences and get in return the experiences of others, directed always -through contact with the facts and forces which determine the truth -communicated. - -I shall not have time to speak of the work of the older children, where -the original crude instincts of construction and communication have been -developed into something like scientifically directed inquiry, but I -will give an illustration of the use of language following upon this -experimental work. The work was on the basis of a simple experiment of -the commonest sort, gradually leading the children out into geological -and geographical study. The sentences that I am going to read seem to me -poetic as well as “scientific.” “A long time ago when the earth was new, -when it was lava, there was no water on the earth, and there was steam -all round the earth up in the air, as there were many gases in the air. -One of them was carbon dioxide. The steam became clouds, because the -earth began to cool off, and after a while it began to rain, and the -water came down and dissolved the carbon dioxide from the air.” There is -a good deal more science in that than probably would be apparent at the -outset. It represents some three months of work on the part of the -child. The children kept daily and weekly records, but this is part of -the summing up of the quarter’s work. I call this language poetic, -because the child has a clear image and has a personal feeling for the -realities imaged. I extract sentences from two other records to -illustrate further the vivid use of language when there is a vivid -experience back of it. “When the earth was cold enough to condense, the -water, with the help of carbon dioxide, _pulls_ the calcium out of the -rocks into a large body of water where the little animals could get it.” -The other reads as follows: “When the earth cooled, calcium was in the -rocks. Then the carbon dioxide and water united and formed a solution, -and, as it ran, it _tore_ out the calcium and carried it on to the sea, -where there were little animals who took it out of solution.” The use of -such words as “pulled” and “tore” in connection with the process of -chemical combination evidences a personal realization which compels its -own appropriate expression. - -If I had not taken so much time in my other illustrations, I should like -to show how, beginning with very simple material things, the children -were led on to larger fields of investigation, and to the intellectual -discipline that is the accompaniment of such research. I will simply -mention the experiment in which the work began. It consisted in making -precipitated chalk, used for polishing metals. The children, with simple -apparatus—a tumbler, lime water, and a glass tube—precipitated the -calcium carbonate out of the water; and from this beginning went on to a -study of the processes by which rocks of various sorts, igneous, -sedimentary, etc., had been formed on the surface of the earth and the -places they occupy; then to points in the geography of the United -States, Hawaii, and Puerto Rico; to the effects of these various bodies -of rock, in their various configurations, upon the human occupations; so -that this geological record finally rounded itself out into the life of -man at the present time. The children saw and felt the connection -between these geologic processes taking place ages and ages ago, and the -physical conditions determining the industrial occupations of today. - -Of all the possibilities involved in the subject, “The School and the -Life of the Child,” I have selected but one, because I have found that -that one gives people more difficulty, is more of a stumbling-block, -than any other. One may be ready to admit that it would be most -desirable for the school to be a place in which the child should really -live, and get a life-experience in which he should delight and find -meaning for its own sake. But then we hear this inquiry: how, upon this -basis, shall the child get the needed information; how shall he undergo -the required discipline? Yes, it has come to this, that with many, if -not most, people the normal processes of life appear to be incompatible -with getting information and discipline. So I have tried to indicate, in -a highly general and inadequate way (for only the school itself, in its -daily operation, could give a detailed and worthy representation), how -the problem works itself out—how it is possible to lay hold upon the -rudimentary instincts of human nature, and, by supplying a proper -medium, so control their expression as not only to facilitate and enrich -the growth of the individual child, but also to supply the results, and -far more, of technical information and discipline that have been the -ideals of education in the past. - -But although I have selected this especial way of approach (as a -concession to the question almost universally raised), I am not willing -to leave the matter in this more or less negative and explanatory -condition. Life is the great thing after all; the life of the child at -its time and in its measure, no less than the life of the adult. Strange -would it be, indeed, if intelligent and serious attention to what the -child _now_ needs and is capable of in the way of a rich, valuable, and -expanded life should somehow conflict with the needs and possibilities -of later, adult life. “Let us live with our children,” certainly means, -first of all, that our children shall live—not that they shall be -hampered and stunted by being forced into all kinds of conditions, the -most remote consideration of which is relevancy to the present life of -the child. If we seek the kingdom of heaven, educationally, all other -things shall be added unto us—which, being interpreted, is that if we -identify ourselves with the real instincts and needs of childhood, and -ask only after its fullest assertion and growth, the discipline and -information and culture of adult life shall all come in their due -season. - -Speaking of culture reminds me that in a way I have been speaking only -of the outside of the child’s activity—only of the outward expression of -his impulses toward saying, making, finding out, and creating. The real -child, it hardly need be said, lives in the world of imaginative values, -and ideas which find only imperfect outward embodiment. We hear much -nowadays about the cultivation of the child’s “imagination.” Then we -undo much of our own talk and work by a belief that the imagination is -some special part of the child, that finds its satisfaction in some one -particular direction—generally speaking, that of the unreal and -make-believe, of the myth and made-up story. Why are we so hard of heart -and so slow to believe? The imagination is the medium in which the child -lives. To him there is everywhere and in everything that occupies his -mind and activity at all, a surplusage of value and significance. The -question of the relation of the school to the child’s life is at bottom -simply this: shall we ignore this native setting and tendency, dealing -not with the living child at all, but with the dead image we have -erected, or shall we give it play and satisfaction? If we once believe -in life and in the life of the child, then will all the occupations and -uses spoken of, then will all history and science, become instruments of -appeal and materials of culture to his imagination, and through that to -the richness and the orderliness of his life. Where we now see only the -outward doing and the outward product, there, behind all visible -results, is the re-adjustment of mental attitude, the enlarged and -sympathetic vision, the sense of growing power, and the willing ability -to identify both insight and capacity with the interests of the world -and man. Unless culture be a superficial polish, a veneering of mahogany -over common wood, it surely is this—the growth of the imagination in -flexibility, in scope, and in sympathy, till the life which the -individual lives is informed with the life of nature and of society. -When nature and society can live in the schoolroom, when the forms and -tools of learning are subordinated to the substance of experience, then -shall there be an opportunity for this identification, and culture shall -be the democratic password. - - - - - III - WASTE IN EDUCATION - - -The subject announced for today was “Waste in Education.” I should like -first to state briefly its relation to the two preceding lectures. The -first dealt with the school in its social aspects, and the necessary -re-adjustments that have to be made to render it effective in present -social conditions. The second dealt with the school in relation to the -growth of individual children. Now the third deals with the school as -itself an institution, both in relation to society and to its own -members—the children. It deals with the question of organization, -because all waste is the result of the lack of it, the motive lying -behind organization being promotion of economy and efficiency. This -question is not one of the waste of money or the waste of things. These -matters count; but the primary waste is that of human life, the life of -the children while they are at school, and afterward because of -inadequate and perverted preparation. - -So, when we speak of organization, we are not to think simply of the -externals; of that which goes by the name “school system”—the school -board, the superintendent, and the building, the engaging and promotion -of teachers, etc. These things enter in, but the fundamental -organization is that of the school itself as a community of individuals, -in its relations to other forms of social life. All waste is due to -isolation. Organization is nothing but getting things into connection -with one another, so that they work easily, flexibly, and fully. -Therefore in speaking of this question of waste in education, I desire -to call your attention to the isolation of the various parts of the -school system, to the lack of unity in the aims of education, to the -lack of coherence in its studies and methods. - -I have made a chart (I) which, while I speak of the isolations of the -school system itself, may perhaps appeal to the eye and save a little -time in verbal explanations. A paradoxical friend of mine says there is -nothing so obscure as an illustration, and it is quite possible that my -attempt to illustrate my point will simply prove the truth of his -statement. - -The blocks represent the various elements in the school system, and are -intended to indicate roughly the length of time given to each division, -and also the overlapping, both in time and subjects studied, of the -individual parts of the system. With each block is given the historical -conditions in which it arose and its ruling ideal. - -[Illustration: Chart I] - - Professional Schools - +---+---+---+---+---+---+ - |///|///|///|///|///| | - |///|///|///|///|///| | - +---+---+---+---+---+---+ - Mediæval The 19^{th} Century - _Culture_ _Utility_ - - High School - Kindergarten Primary- or Academy - +---+--+--+ +--+--+---+---+---+ +---+---+---+---+ - | | |//| |//| | | |///| |///| | |///| - | | |//| |//| | | |///| |///| | |///| - +---+--+--+ +--+--+---+---+---+ +---+---+---+---+ - 18^{th} Century 16^{th} Century Renaissance - _Moral_ _Utility_ _Culture_ - _Discipline_ - - University- College - Graduate-------Schools - +---+---+---+---+---+---+ - |///|///| | | | | - |///|///| | | | | - +---+---+---+---+---+---+ - Mediæval - _Culture_ - _Discipline_ - - Connecting Grammar or - Class Intermediate School Normal - +----+ +---+---+---+---+-- +---+---+---+---+ - |////| |///| | |///| |///| |///|///| - |////| |///| | |///| |///| |///|///| - +----+ +---+---+---+---+-- +---+---+---+---+ - 19^{th} Century Renaissance 19th Century - _Culture_ _Utility_ - _Discipline_ _Culture_ - - Technical Schools - +---+---+---+---+---+ - | | | | | | - | | | | | | - +---+---+---+---+---+ - 19^{th} Century - _Utility_ - -The school system, upon the whole, has grown from the top down. During -the middle ages it was essentially a cluster of professional -schools—especially law and theology. Our present university comes down -to us from the middle ages. I will not say that at present it is a -mediæval institution, but it had its roots in the middle ages, and it -has not outlived all mediæval traditions regarding learning. - -The kindergarten, rising with the present century, was a union of the -nursery and of the philosophy of Schelling; a wedding of the plays and -games which the mother carried on with her children, to Schelling’s -highly romantic and symbolic philosophy. The elements that came from the -actual study of child life—the continuation of the nursery—have remained -a life-bringing force in all education; the Schellingesque factors made -an obstruction between it and the rest of the school system, brought -about isolations. - -The line drawn over the top indicates that there is a certain -interaction between the kindergarten and the primary school; for, so far -as the primary school remained in spirit foreign to the natural -interests of child life, it was isolated from the kindergarten, so that -it is a problem, at present, to introduce kindergarten methods into the -primary school; the problem of the so-called connecting class. The -difficulty is that the two are not one from the start. To get a -connection the teacher has had to climb over the wall instead of -entering in at the gate. - -On the side of aims, the ideal of the kindergarten was the moral -development of the children, rather than instruction or discipline; an -ideal sometimes emphasized to the point of sentimentality. The primary -school grew practically out of the popular movement of the sixteenth -century, when along with the invention of printing and the growth of -commerce, it became a business necessity to know how to read, write, and -figure. The aim was distinctly a practical one; it was utility; getting -command of these tools, the symbols of learning, not for the sake of -learning, but because they gave access to careers in life otherwise -closed. - -The division next to the primary school is the grammar school. The term -is not much used in the West, but is common in the eastern states. It -goes back to the time of the revival of learning—a little earlier -perhaps than the conditions out of which the primary school originated, -and, even when contemporaneous, having a different ideal. It had to do -with the study of language in the higher sense; because, at the time of -the Renaissance, Latin and Greek connected people with the culture of -the past, with the Roman and Greek world. The classic languages were the -only means of escape from the limitations of the middle ages. Thus there -sprang up the prototype of the grammar school, more liberal than the -university (so largely professional in character), for the purpose of -putting into the hands of the people the key to the old learning, that -men might see a world with a larger horizon. The object was primarily -culture, secondarily discipline. It represented much more than the -present grammar school. It was the liberal element in the college, -which, extending downward, grew into the academy and the high school. -Thus the secondary school is still in part just a lower college (having -an even higher curriculum than the college of a few centuries ago) or a -preparatory department to a college, and in part a rounding up of the -utilities of the elementary school. - -There appear then two products of the nineteenth century, the technical -and normal schools. The schools of technology, engineering, etc., are, -of course, mainly the development of nineteenth-century business -conditions, as the primary school was the development of business -conditions of the sixteenth century. The normal school arose because of -the necessity for training teachers, with the idea partly of -professional drill, and partly that of culture. - -Without going into more detail, we have some eight different parts of -the school system as represented on the chart, all of which arose -historically at different times, having different ideals in view, and -consequently different methods. I do not wish to suggest that all of the -isolation, all of the separation, that has existed in the past between -the different parts of the school system still persists. One must, -however, recognize that they have never yet been welded into one -complete whole. The great problem in education on the administrative -side is how to unite these different parts. - -Consider the training schools for teachers—the normal schools. These -occupy at present a somewhat anomalous position, intermediate between -the high school and the college, requiring the high-school preparation, -and covering a certain amount of college work. They are isolated from -the higher subject-matter of scholarship, since, upon the whole, their -object has been to train persons _how_ to teach, rather than _what_ to -teach; while, if we go to the college, we find the other half of this -isolation—learning _what_ to teach, with almost a contempt for methods -of teaching. The college is shut off from contact with children and -youth. Its members, to a great extent, away from home and forgetting -their own childhood, become eventually teachers with a large amount of -subject-matter at command, and little knowledge of how this is related -to the minds of those to whom it is to be taught. In this division -between what to teach and how to teach, each side suffers from the -separation. - -It is interesting to follow out the inter-relation between primary, -grammar, and high schools. The elementary school has crowded up and -taken many subjects previously studied in the old New England grammar -school. The high school has pushed its subjects down. Latin and algebra -have been put in the upper grades, so that the seventh and eighth grades -are, after all, about all that is left of the old grammar school. They -are a sort of amorphous composite, being partly a place where children -go on learning what they already have learned (to read, write, and -figure), and partly a place of preparation for the high school. The name -in some parts of New England for these upper grades was “Intermediate -School.” The term was a happy one; the work was simply intermediate -between something that had been and something that was going to be, -having no special meaning on its own account. - -Just as the parts are separated, so do the ideals differ—moral -development, practical utility, general culture, discipline, and -professional training. These aims are each especially represented in -some distinct part of the system of education; and with the growing -interaction of the parts, each is supposed to afford a certain amount of -culture, discipline, and utility. But the lack of fundamental unity is -witnessed in the fact that one study is still considered good for -discipline, and another for culture; some parts of arithmetic, for -example, for discipline and others for use, literature for culture, -grammar for discipline, geography partly for utility, partly for -culture; and so on. The unity of education is dissipated, and the -studies become centrifugal; so much of this study to secure this end, so -much of that to secure another, until the whole becomes a sheer -compromise and patchwork between contending aims and disparate studies. -The great problem in education on the administrative side is to secure -the unity of the whole, in the place of a sequence of more or less -unrelated and overlapping parts and thus to reduce the waste arising -from friction, reduplication and transitions that are not properly -bridged. - -[Illustration: Chart II] - - Business - | 3. ^ - | | - v | - +------------------+ - | | - | | - Technical | | - Research ---> | | - | | - | | ---> - 4. University | School | 1. Home - | A | <--- - | | - Professional <--- | | - Schools Teachers | | - | | - | | - +------------------+ - ^ | - | | - | v - { Garden - 2. { Park - { Country - -In this second symbolic diagram (II) I wish to suggest that really the -only way to unite the parts of the system is to unite each to life. We -can get only an artificial unity so long as we confine our gaze to the -school system itself. We must look at it as part of the larger whole of -social life. This block (A) in the center represents the school system -as a whole. (1) At one side we have the home, and the two arrows -represent the free interplay of influences, materials, and ideas between -the home life and that of the school. (2) Below we have the relation to -the natural environment, the great field of geography in the widest -sense. The school building has about it a natural environment. It ought -to be in a garden, and the children from the garden would be led on to -surrounding fields, and then into the wider country, with all its facts -and forces. (3) Above is represented business life, and the necessity -for free play between the school and the needs and forces of industry. -(4) On the other side is the university proper, with its various phases, -its laboratories, its resources in the way of libraries, museums, and -professional schools. - -From the standpoint of the child, the great waste in the school comes -from his inability to utilize the experiences he gets outside the school -in any complete and free way within the school itself; while, on the -other hand, he is unable to apply in daily life what he is learning at -school. That is the isolation of the school—its isolation from life. -When the child gets into the schoolroom he has to put out of his mind a -large part of the ideas, interests, and activities that predominate in -his home and neighborhood. So the school, being unable to utilize this -everyday experience, sets painfully to work, on another tack and by a -variety of means, to arouse in the child an interest in school studies. -While I was visiting in the city of Moline a few years ago, the -superintendent told me that they found many children every year, who -were surprised to learn that the Mississippi river in the text-book had -anything to do with the stream of water flowing past their homes. The -geography being simply a matter of the schoolroom, it is more or less of -an awakening to many children to find that the whole thing is nothing -but a more formal and definite statement of the facts which they see, -feel, and touch every day. When we think that we all live on the earth, -that we live in an atmosphere, that our lives are touched at every point -by the influences of the soil, flora, and fauna, by considerations of -light and heat, and then think of what the school study of geography has -been, we have a typical idea of the gap existing between the everyday -experiences of the child, and the isolated material supplied in such -large measure in the school. This is but an instance, and one upon which -most of us may reflect long before we take the present artificiality of -the school as other than a matter of course or necessity. - -Though there should be organic connection between the school and -business life, it is not meant that the school is to prepare the child -for any particular business, but that there should be a natural -connection of the everyday life of the child with the business -environment about him, and that it is the affair of the school to -clarify and liberalize this connection, to bring it to consciousness, -not by introducing special studies, like commercial geography and -arithmetic, but by keeping alive the ordinary bonds of relation. The -subject of compound-business-partnership is probably not in many of the -arithmetics nowadays, though it was there not a generation ago, for the -makers of text-books said that if they left out anything they could not -sell their books. This compound-business-partnership originated as far -back as the sixteenth century. The joint-stock company had not been -invented, and as large commerce with the Indies and Americas grew up, it -was necessary to have an accumulation of capital with which to handle -it. One man said, “I will put in this amount of money for six months,” -and another, “So much for two years,” and so on. Thus by joining -together they got money enough to float their commercial enterprises. -Naturally, then, “compound partnership” was taught in the schools. The -joint-stock company was invented; compound partnership disappeared, but -the problems relating to it stayed in the arithmetics for two hundred -years. They were kept after they had ceased to have practical utility, -for the sake of mental discipline—they were “such hard problems, you -know.” A great deal of what is now in the arithmetics under the head of -percentage is of the same nature. Children of twelve and thirteen years -of age go through gain and loss calculations, and various forms of bank -discount so complicated that the bankers long ago dispensed with them. -And when it is pointed out that business is not done this way, we hear -again of “mental discipline.” And yet there are plenty of real -connections between the experience of children and business conditions -which need to be utilized and illuminated. The child should study his -commercial arithmetic and geography, not as isolated things by -themselves, but in their reference to his social environment. The youth -needs to become acquainted with the bank as a factor in modern life, -with what it does, and how it does it; and then relevant arithmetical -processes would have some meaning—quite in contradistinction to the -time-absorbing and mind-killing examples in percentage, partial -payments, etc., found in all our arithmetics. - -The connection with the university, as indicated in this chart, I need -not dwell upon. I simply wish to indicate that there ought to be a free -interaction between all the parts of the school system. There is much of -utter triviality of subject-matter in elementary and secondary -education. When we investigate it, we find that it is full of facts -taught that are not facts, which have to be unlearned later on. Now, -this happens because the “lower” parts of our system are not in vital -connection with the “higher.” The university or college, in its idea, is -a place of research, where investigation is going on, a place of -libraries and museums, where the best resources of the past are -gathered, maintained and organized. It is, however, as true in the -school as in the university that the spirit of inquiry can be got only -through and with the attitude of inquiry. The pupil must learn what has -meaning, what enlarges his horizon, instead of mere trivialities. He -must become acquainted with truths, instead of things that were regarded -as such fifty years ago, or that are taken as interesting by the -misunderstanding of a partially educated teacher. It is difficult to see -how these ends can be reached except as the most advanced part of the -educational system is in complete interaction with the most rudimentary. - -The next chart (III) is an enlargement of the second. The school -building has swelled out, so to speak, the surrounding environment -remaining the same, the home, the garden and country, the relation to -business life and the university. The object is to show what the school -must become to get out of its isolation and secure the organic -connection with social life of which we have been speaking. It is not -our architect’s plan for the school building that we hope to have; but -it is a diagrammatic representation of the idea which we want embodied -in the school building. On the lower side you see the dining-room and -the kitchen, at the top the wood and metal shops, and the textile room -for sewing and weaving. The center represents the manner in which all -come together in the library; that is to say, in a collection of the -intellectual resources of all kinds that throw light upon the practical -work, that give it meaning and liberal value. If the four corners -represent practice, the interior represents the theory of the practical -activities. In other words, the object of these forms of practice in the -school is not found chiefly in themselves, or in the technical skill of -cooks, seamstresses, carpenters and masons, but in their connection, on -the social side, with the life without; while on the individual side -they respond to the child’s need of action, of expression, of desire to -do something, to be constructive and creative, instead of simply passive -and conforming. Their great significance is that they keep the balance -between the social and individual sides—the chart symbolizing -particularly the connection with the social. Here on one side is the -home. How naturally the lines of connection play back and forth between -the home and the kitchen and the textile room of the school! The child -can carry over what he learns in the home and utilize it in the school; -and the things learned in the school he applies at home. These are the -two great things in breaking down isolation, in getting connection—to -have the child come to school with all the experience he has got outside -the school, and to leave it with something to be immediately used in his -everyday life. The child comes to the traditional school with a healthy -body and a more or less unwilling mind, though, in fact, he does not -bring both his body and mind with him; he has to leave his mind behind, -because there is no way to use it in the school. If he had a purely -abstract mind, he could bring it to school with him, but his is a -concrete one, interested in concrete things, and unless these things get -over into school life, he cannot take his mind with him. What we want is -to have the child come to school with a whole mind and a whole body, and -leave school with a fuller mind and an even healthier body. And speaking -of the body suggests that, while there is no gymnasium in these -diagrams, the active life carried on in its four corners brings with it -constant physical exercise, while our gymnasium proper will deal with -the particular weaknesses of children and their correction, and will -attempt more consciously to build up the thoroughly sound body as the -abode of the sound mind. - -[Illustration: Chart III] - - Business - | | - | | - +------------+<= =>+------------+ - | | | | - Technical Schools | | | Textile | - Laboratory | Shop | | Industries | - Research | | | | - | +------+ |-----| - | | | - +-------+ +-------+<== | - | | | => - | Library | Home - | B | | => - +-------+ +-------+<== | - University | | | - Library | +------+ |-----| - Museum | Dining | | | - | Room | | Kitchen | - | | | | - | | ==>| | - +------------+ | +------------+ - | | - | | - Garden<== - Park - Country - -That the dining-room and kitchen connect with the country and its -processes and products it is hardly necessary to say. Cooking may be so -taught that it has no connection with country life, and with the -sciences that find their unity in geography. Perhaps it generally has -been taught without these connections being really made. But all the -materials that come into the kitchen have their origin in the country; -they come from the soil, are nurtured through the influences of light -and water, and represent a great variety of local environments. Through -this connection, extending from the garden into the larger world, the -child has his most natural introduction to the study of the sciences. -Where did these things grow? What was necessary to their growth? What -their relation to the soil? What the effect of different climatic -conditions? and so on. We all know what the old-fashioned botany was: -partly collecting flowers that were pretty, pressing and mounting them; -partly pulling these flowers to pieces and giving technical names to the -different parts, finding all the different leaves, naming all their -different shapes and forms. It was a study of plants without any -reference to the soil, to the country, or to growth. In contrast, a real -study of plants takes them in their natural environment and in their -uses as well, not simply as food, but in all their adaptations to the -social life of man. Cooking becomes as well a most natural introduction -to the study of chemistry, giving the child here also something which he -can at once bring to bear upon his daily experience. I once heard a very -intelligent woman say that she could not understand how science could be -taught to little children, because she did not see how they could -understand atoms and molecules. In other words, since she did not see -how highly abstract facts could be presented to the child independently -of daily experience, she could not understand how science could be -taught at all. Before we smile at this remark, we need to ask ourselves -if she is alone in her assumption, or whether it simply formulates -almost all of our school practice. - -The same relations with the outside world are found in the carpentry and -the textile shops. They connect with the country, as the source of their -materials, with physics, as the science of applying energy, with -commerce and distribution, with art in the development of architecture -and decoration. They have also an intimate connection with the -university on the side of its technological and engineering schools; -with the laboratory, and its scientific methods and results. - -To go back to the square which is marked the library (Chart III, A): if -you imagine rooms half in the four corners and half in the library, you -will get the idea of the recitation room. That is the place where the -children bring the experiences, the problems, the questions, the -particular facts which they have found, and discuss them so that new -light may be thrown upon them, particularly new light from the -experience of others, the accumulated wisdom of the world—symbolized in -the library. Here is the organic relation of theory and practice; the -child not simply doing things, but getting also the _idea_ of what he -does; getting from the start some intellectual conception that enters -into his practice and enriches it; while every idea finds, directly or -indirectly, some application in experience, and has some effect upon -life. This, I need hardly say, fixes the position of the “book” or -reading in education. Harmful as a substitute for experience, it is -all-important in interpreting and expanding experience. - -The other chart (IV) illustrates precisely the same idea. It gives the -symbolic upper story of this ideal school. In the upper corners are the -laboratories; in the lower corners are the studios for art work, both -the graphic and auditory arts. The questions, the chemical and physical -problems, arising in the kitchen and shop, are taken to the laboratories -to be worked out. For instance, this past week one of the older groups - -[Illustration: Chart IV] - - +------------+ +------------+ - | | | | - | Physical | | Biological | - Laboratories |and Chemical| | Laboratory | - Research |Laboratories| | | - | +------+ | - | | - +-------+ +-------+ - University | | - | Museum | - | | - Library +-------+ +-------+ - Museum | | - | +------+ | - | | | | - | Art | | Music | - | | | | - | | | | - +------------+ +------------+ - -of children doing practical work in weaving which involved the use of -the spinning wheel, worked out the diagrams of the direction of forces -concerned in treadle and wheel, and the ratio of velocities between -wheel and spindle. In the same manner, the plants with which the child -has to do in cooking, afford the basis for a concrete interest in -botany, and may be taken and studied by themselves. In a certain school -in Boston science work for months was centered in the growth of the -cotton plant, and yet something new was brought in every day. We hope to -do similar work with all the types of plants that furnish materials for -sewing and weaving. These examples will suggest, I hope, the relation -which the laboratories bear to the rest of the school. - -The drawing and music, or the graphic and auditory arts, represent the -culmination, the idealization, the highest point of refinement of all -the work carried on. I think everybody who has not a purely literary -view of the subject recognizes that genuine art grows out of the work of -the artisan. The art of the Renaissance was great, because it grew out -of the manual arts of life. It did not spring up in a separate -atmosphere, however ideal, but carried on to their spiritual meaning -processes found in homely and everyday forms of life. The school should -observe this relationship. The merely artisan side is narrow, but the -mere art, taken by itself, and grafted on from without, tends to become -forced, empty, sentimental. I do not mean, of course, that all art work -must be correlated in detail to the other work of the school, but simply -that a spirit of union gives vitality to the art, and depth and richness -to the other work. All art involves physical organs, the eye and hand, -the ear and voice; and yet it is something more than the mere technical -skill required by the organs of expression. It involves an idea, a -thought, a spiritual rendering of things; and yet it is other than any -number of ideas by themselves. It is a living union of thought and the -instrument of expression. This union is symbolized by saying that in the -ideal school the art work might be considered to be that of the shops, -passed through the alembic of library and museum into action again. - -Take the textile room as an illustration of such a synthesis. I am -talking about a future school, the one we hope, some time, to have. The -basal fact in that room is that it is a workshop, doing actual things in -sewing, spinning, and weaving. The children come into immediate -connection with the materials, with various fabrics of silk, cotton, -linen and wool. Information at once appears in connection with these -materials; their origin, history, their adaptation to particular uses, -and the machines of various kinds by which the raw materials are -utilized. Discipline arises in dealing with the problems involved, both -theoretical and practical. Whence does the culture arise? Partly from -seeing all these things reflected through the medium of their scientific -and historic conditions and associations, whereby the child learns to -appreciate them as technical achievements, as thoughts precipitated in -action; and partly because of the introduction of the art idea into the -room itself. In the ideal school there would be something of this sort: -first, a complete industrial museum, giving samples of materials in -various stages of manufacture, and the implements, from the simplest to -the most complex, used in dealing with them; then a collection of -photographs and pictures illustrating the landscapes and the scenes from -which the materials come, their native homes, and their places of -manufacture. Such a collection would be a vivid and continual lesson in -the synthesis of art, science, and industry. There would be, also, -samples of the more perfect forms of textile work, as Italian, French, -Japanese, and Oriental. There would be objects illustrating motives of -design and decoration which have entered into production. Literature -would contribute its part in its idealized representation of the -world-industries, as the Penelope in the Odyssey—a classic in literature -only because the character is an adequate embodiment of a certain -industrial phase of social life. So, from Homer down to the present -time, there is a continuous procession of related facts which have been -translated into terms of art. Music lends its share, from the Scotch -song at the wheel to the spinning song of Marguerite, or of Wagner’s -Senta. The shop becomes a pictured museum, appealing to the eye. It -would have not only materials, beautiful woods and designs, but would -give a synopsis of the historical evolution of architecture in its -drawings and pictures. - -Thus I have attempted to indicate how the school may be connected with -life so that the experience gained by the child in a familiar, -commonplace way is carried over and made use of there, and what the -child learns in the school is carried back and applied in everyday life, -making the school an organic whole, instead of a composite of isolated -parts. The isolation of studies as well as of parts of the school system -disappears. Experience has its geographical aspect, its artistic and its -literary, its scientific and its historical sides. All studies arise -from aspects of the one earth and the one life lived upon it. We do not -have a series of stratified earths, one of which is mathematical, -another physical, another historical, and so on. We should not live very -long in any one taken by itself. We live in a world where all sides are -bound together. All studies grow out of relations in the one great -common world. When the child lives in varied but concrete and active -relationship to this common world, his studies are naturally unified. It -will no longer be a problem to correlate studies. The teacher will not -have to resort to all sorts of devices to weave a little arithmetic into -the history lesson, and the like. Relate the school to life, and all -studies are of necessity correlated. - -Moreover, if the school is related as a whole to life as a whole, its -various aims and ideals—culture, discipline, information, utility—cease -to be variants, for one of which we must select one study and for -another another. The growth of the child in the direction of social -capacity and service, his larger and more vital union with life, becomes -the unifying aim; and discipline, culture and information fall into -place as phases of this growth. - -I wish to say one word more about the relationship of our particular -school to the University. The problem is to unify, to organize -education, to bring all its various factors together, through putting it -as a whole into organic union with everyday life. That which lies back -of the pedagogical school of the University is the necessity of working -out something to serve as a model for such unification, extending from -work beginning with the four-year-old child up through the graduate work -of the University. Already we have much help from the University in -scientific work planned, sometimes even in detail, by heads of the -departments. The graduate student comes to us with his researches and -methods, suggesting ideas and problems. The library and museum are at -hand. We want to bring all things educational together; to break down -the barriers that divide the education of the little child from the -instruction of the maturing youth; to identify the lower and the higher -education, so that it shall be demonstrated to the eye that there is no -lower and higher, but simply education. - -Speaking more especially with reference to the pedagogical side of the -work: I suppose the oldest university chair of pedagogy in our country -is about twenty years old—that of the University of Michigan, founded in -the latter seventies. But there are only one or two that have tried to -make a connection between theory and practice. They teach for the most -part by theory, by lectures, by reference to books, rather than through -the actual work of teaching itself. At Columbia, through the Teachers’ -College, there is an extensive and close connection between the -University and the training of teachers. Something has been done in one -or two other places along the same line. We want an even more intimate -union here, so that the University shall put all its resources at the -disposition of the elementary school, contributing to the evolution of -valuable subject-matter and right method, while the school in turn will -be a laboratory in which the student of education sees theories and -ideas demonstrated, tested, criticised, enforced, and the evolution of -new truths. We want the school in its relation to the University to be a -working model of a unified education. - -A word as to the relation of the school to educational interests -generally. I heard once that the adoption of a certain method in use in -our school was objected to by a teacher on this ground: “You know that -it is an experimental school. They do not work under the same conditions -that we are subject to.” Now, the purpose of performing an experiment is -that other people need not experiment; at least need not experiment so -much, may have something definite and positive to go by. An experiment -demands particularly favorable conditions in order that results may be -reached both freely and securely. It has to work unhampered, with all -the needed resources at command. Laboratories lie back of all the great -business enterprises of today, back of every great factory, every -railway and steamship system. Yet the laboratory is not a business -enterprise; it does not aim to secure for itself the conditions of -business life, nor does the commercial undertaking repeat the -laboratory. There is a difference between working out and testing a new -truth, or a new method, and applying it on a wide scale, making it -available for the mass of men, making it commercial. But the first thing -is to discover the truth, to afford all necessary facilities, for this -is the most practical thing in the world in the long run. We do not -expect to have other schools literally imitate what we do. A working -model is not something to be copied; it is to afford a demonstration of -the feasibility of the principle, and of the methods which make it -feasible. So (to come back to our own point) we want here to work out -the problem of the unity, the organization of the school system in -itself, and to do this by relating it so intimately to life as to -demonstrate the possibility and necessity of such organization for all -education. - - - - - IV - THREE YEARS OF THE UNIVERSITY ELEMENTARY SCHOOL[1] - - -The school was started the first week in January, three years ago. I -shall try this afternoon to give a brief statement of the ideas and -problems that were in mind when the experiment was started, and a sketch -of the development of the work since that time. We began in a small -house in Fifty-seventh street, with fifteen children. We found ourselves -the next year with twenty-five children in Kimbark avenue, and then -moved in January to Rosalie court, the larger quarters enabling us to -take forty children. The next year the numbers increased to sixty, the -school remaining at Rosalie court. This year we have had ninety-five on -the roll at one time, and are located at 5412 Ellis avenue, where we -hope to stay till we have a building and grounds of our own. - -Footnote 1: - - Stenographic report of a talk by John Dewey at a meeting of the - Parents’ Association of the University Elementary School, February, - 1899; somewhat revised. - -The children during the first year of the school were between the ages -of six and nine. Now their ages range between four and thirteen—the -members of the oldest group being in their thirteenth year. This is the -first year that we have children under six, and this has been made -possible through the liberality of friends in Honolulu, H. I., who are -building up there a memorial kindergarten along the same lines. - -The expenses of the school during the first year, of two terms only, -were between $1,300 and $1,400. The expenses this year will be about -$12,000. Of this amount $5,500 will come from tuitions; $5,000 has been -given by friends interested in the school, and there remains about -$1,500 yet to be raised for the conduct of the school. This is an -indication of the increase of expenses. The average expense per pupil is -about the same since the start, _i. e._, $120 per child per school year. -Relatively speaking, this year the expenses of the school took something -of a jump, through the expense of moving to a new building, and the -repairs and changes there necessary. An increase in the staff of -teachers has also enlarged the work as well as the debits of the school. -Next year (1899–1900) we hope to have about 120 children, and apparently -the expenses will be about $2,500 more than this. Of this amount $2,000 -will be met by the increase in tuition from the pupils. The cost of a -child to the school, $120 a year, is precisely the tuition charged by -the University for students and is double the average tuition charged by -the school. But it is not expected that the University tuition will come -anywhere near meeting the expense involved there. One reason for not -increasing the tuition here, even if it were advisable for other -reasons, is that it is well to emphasize, from an educational point of -view, that elementary as well as advanced education requires endowment. -There is every reason why money should be spent freely for the -organization and maintenance of foundation work in education as well as -for the later stages. - -The elementary school has had from the outset two sides: one, the -obvious one of instruction of the children who have been intrusted to -it; the other, relationship to the University, since the school is under -the charge, and forms a part of the pedagogical work of the University. - -When the school was started, there were certain ideas in mind—perhaps it -would be better to say questions and problems; certain points which it -seemed worth while to test. If you will permit one personal word, I -should like to say that it is sometimes thought that the school started -out with a number of ready-made principles and ideas which were to be -put into practice at once. It has been popularly assumed that I am the -author of these ready-made ideas and principles which were to go into -execution. I take this opportunity to say that the educational conduct -of the school, as well as its administration, the selection of -subject-matter, and the working out of the course of study, as well as -actual instruction of children, have been almost entirely in the hands -of the teachers of the school; and that there has been a gradual -development of the educational principles and methods involved, not a -fixed equipment. The teachers started with question marks, rather than -with fixed rules, and if any answers have been reached, it is the -teachers in the school who have supplied them. We started upon the whole -with four such questions, or problems: - -1. What can be done, and how can it be done, to bring the school into -closer relation with the home and neighborhood life—instead of having -the school a place where the child comes solely to learn certain -lessons? What can be done to break down the barriers which have -unfortunately come to separate the school life from the rest of the -everyday life of the child? This does not mean, as it is sometimes, -perhaps, interpreted to mean, that the child should simply take up in -the school things already experienced at home and study them, but that, -so far as possible, the child shall have the same attitude and point of -view in the school as in the home; that he shall find the same interest -in going to school, and in there doing things worth doing for their own -sake, that he finds in the plays and occupations which busy him in his -home and neighborhood life. It means, again, that the motives which keep -the child at work and growing at home shall be used in the school, so -that he shall not have to acquire another set of principles of actions -belonging only to the school—separate from those of the home. It is a -question of the unity of the child’s experience, of its actuating -motives and aims, not of amusing or even interesting the child. - -2. What can be done in the way of introducing subject-matter in history -and science and art, that shall have a positive value and real -significance in the child’s own life; that shall represent, even to the -youngest children, something worthy of attainment in skill or knowledge; -as much so to the little pupil as are the studies of the high-school or -college student to him? You know what the traditional curriculum of the -first few years is, even though many modifications have been made. Some -statistics have been collected showing that 75 or 80 per cent. of the -first three years of a child in school are spent upon the form—not the -substance—of learning, the mastering of the symbols of reading, writing, -and arithmetic. There is not much positive nutriment in this. Its -purpose is important—is necessary—but it does not represent the same -kind of increase in a child’s intellectual and moral experience that is -represented by positive truth of history and nature, or by added insight -into reality and beauty. One thing, then, we wanted to find out is how -much can be given a child that is really worth his while to get, in -knowledge of the world about him, of the forces in the world, of -historical and social growth, and in capacity to express himself in a -variety of artistic forms. From the strictly educational side this has -been the chief problem of the school. It is along this line that we hope -to make our chief contribution to education in general; we hope, that -is, to work out and publish a positive body of subject-matter which may -be generally available. - -3. How can instruction in these formal, symbolic branches—the mastering -of the ability to read, write, and use figures intelligently—be carried -on with everyday experience and occupation as their background and in -definite relations to other studies of more inherent content, and be -carried on in such a way that the child shall feel their necessity -through their connection with subjects which appeal to him on their own -account? If this can be accomplished, he will have a vital motive for -getting the technical capacity. It is not meant, as has been sometimes -jocosely stated, that the child learn to bake and sew at school, and to -read, write, and figure at home. It is intended that these formal -subjects shall not be presented in such large doses at first as to be -the exclusive objects of attention, and that the child shall be led by -that which he is doing to feel the need for acquiring skill in the use -of symbols and the immediate power they give. In any school, if the -child realizes the motive for the use and application of number and -language he has taken the longest step toward securing the power; and he -can realize the motive only as he has some particular—not some general -and remote—use for the symbols. - -4. Individual attention. This is secured by small groupings—eight or ten -in a class—and a large number of teachers supervising systematically the -intellectual needs and attainments and physical well-being and growth of -the child. To secure this we have now 135 hours of instructors’ time per -week, that is, the time of nine teachers for three hours per day, or one -teacher per group. It requires but a few words to make this statement -about attention to individual powers and needs, and yet the whole of the -school’s aims and methods, moral, physical, intellectual, are bound up -in it. - -I think these four points present a fair statement of what we have set -out to discover. The school is often called an experimental school, and -in one sense that is the proper name. I do not like to use it too much, -for fear parents will think we are experimenting upon the children, and -that they naturally object to. But it is an experimental school—at least -I hope so—with reference to education and educational problems. We have -attempted to find out by trying, by doing—not alone by discussion and -theorizing—_whether_ these problems may be worked out, and _how_ they -may be worked out. - -Next a few words about the means that have been used in the school in -order to test these four questions, and to supply their answers, and -first as to the place given to hand-work of different kinds in the -school. There are three main lines regularly pursued: (_a_) the -shop-work with wood and tools, (_b_) cooking work, and (_c_) work with -textiles—sewing and weaving. Of course, there is other hand-work in -connection with science, as science is largely of an experimental -nature. It is a fact that may not have come to your attention that a -large part of the best and most advanced scientific work involves a -great deal of manual skill, the training of the hand and eye. It is -impossible for one to be a first-class worker in science without this -training in manipulation, and in handling apparatus and materials. In -connection with the history work, especially with the younger children, -hand-work is brought in in the way of making implements, weapons, tools, -etc. Of course, the art work is another side—drawing, painting, and -modeling. Logically, perhaps, the gymnasium work does not come in here, -but as a means of developing moral and intellectual control through the -medium of the body it certainly does. The children have one-half hour -per day of this form of physical exercise. Along this line we have found -that hand-work, in large variety and amount, is the most easy and -natural method of keeping up the same attitude of the child in and out -of the school. The child gets the largest part of his acquisitions -through his bodily activities, until he learns to work systematically -with the intellect. That is the purpose of this work in the school, to -direct these activities, to systematize and organize them, so that they -shall not be as haphazard and as wandering as they are outside of -school. The problem of making these forms of practical activity work -continuously and definitely together, leading from one factor of skill -to another, from one intellectual difficulty to another, has been one of -the most difficult, and at the same time one in which we have been most -successful. The various kinds of work, carpentry, cooking, sewing, and -weaving, are selected as involving different kinds of skill, and -demanding different types of intellectual attitude on the part of the -child, and because they represent some of the most important activities -of the everyday outside world: the question of living under shelter, of -daily food and clothing, of the home, of personal movement and exchange -of goods. He gets also the training of sense organs, of touch, of sight, -and the ability to coördinate eye and hand. He gets healthy exercise; -for the child demands a much larger amount of physical activity than the -formal program of the ordinary school permits. There is also a continual -appeal to memory, to judgment, in adapting ends to means, a training in -habits of order, industry, and neatness in the care of the tools and -utensils, and in doing things in a systematic, instead of a haphazard, -way. Then, again, these practical occupations make a background, -especially in the earlier groups, for the later studies. The children -get a good deal of chemistry in connection with cooking, of number work -and geometrical principles in carpentry, and a good deal of geography in -connection with their theoretical work in weaving and sewing. History -also comes in with the origin and growth of various inventions, and -their effects upon social life and political organization. - -Perhaps more attention, upon the whole, has been given to our second -point, that of positive subject-matter, than to any one other thing. On -the history side the curriculum is now fairly well worked out. The -younger children begin with the home and occupations of the home. In the -sixth year the intention is that the children should study occupations -outside the home, the larger social industries—farming, mining, lumber, -etc.—that they may see the complex and various social industries on -which life depends, while incidentally they investigate the use of the -various materials—woods, metals, and the processes applied—thus getting -a beginning of scientific study. The next year is given to the -historical development of industry and invention—starting with man as a -savage and carrying him through the typical phases of his progress -upward, until the iron age is reached and man begins to enter upon a -civilized career. The object of the study of primitive life is not to -keep the child interested in lower and relatively savage stages, but to -show him the steps of progress and development, especially along the -line of invention, by which man was led into civilization. There is a -certain nearness, after all, in the child to primitive forms of life. -They are much more simple than existing institutions. By throwing the -emphasis upon the progress of man, and upon the way advance has been -made, we hope to avoid the objections that hold against paying too much -attention to the crudities and distracting excitements of savage life. - -The next two or three years, _i. e._, the fourth and fifth grades, and -perhaps the sixth, will be devoted to American history. It is then that -history, properly speaking, begins, as the study of primitive life can -hardly be so called. - -Then comes Greek history and Roman, in the regular chronological order, -each year having its own work planned with reference to what has come -before and after. - -The science work was more difficult to arrange and systematize, because -there was so little to follow—so little that has been already done in an -organized way. We are now at work upon a program,[2] and I shall not -speak in detail about it. The first two or three years cultivate the -children’s powers of observation, lead them to sympathetic interest in -the habits of plants and animals, and to look at things with reference -to their uses. Then the center of the work becomes geographical—the -study of the earth, as the most central thing. From this almost all the -work grows out, and to it the work goes back. Another standpoint in the -science work is that of the application of natural forces to the service -of man through machines. Last year a good deal of work was done in -electricity (and will be repeated this year), based on the telegraph and -telephone—taking up the things that can easily be grasped. - -Footnote 2: - - This year’s program is published in the _Elementary School Record_. - Address The University of Chicago Press for particulars. - -In mechanics they have studied locks and clocks with reference to the -adaptation of the various parts of the machinery. All this work makes a -most excellent basis for more formal physics later on. Cooking gives -opportunity for getting a great many ideas of heat and water, and of -their effects. The scientific work taken up in the school differs mainly -from that of other schools in having the experimental part—physics and -chemistry—emphasized, and is not confined simply to nature study—the -study of plants and animals. Not that the latter is less valuable, but -that we find it possible to introduce the physical aspects from the -first. - -If I do not spend a large amount of time in speaking of the music and -art work, it is not because they are not considered valuable and -important—certainly as much so as any other work done in the school, not -only in the development of the child’s moral and æsthetic nature, but -also from a strictly intellectual point of view. I know of no work in -the school that better develops the power of attention, the habit of -observation and of consecutiveness, of seeing parts in relation to a -whole. - -I shall now say a few words about the administrative side of the school. -At the outset we mixed up the children of different ages and attainments -as much as possible, believing there were mental advantages in the -give-and-take thus secured, as well as the moral advantages in having -the older assume certain responsibilities in the care of the younger. As -the school grew, it became necessary to abandon the method, and to group -the children with reference to their common capacities. These groupings, -however, are based, not on ability to read and write, but upon -similarity of mental attitude and interest, and upon general -intellectual capacity and mental alertness. There are ways in which we -are still trying to carry out the idea of mixing up the children, that -we may not build the rigid stepladder system of the “graded” school. One -step in this direction is having the children move about and come in -contact with different teachers. While there are difficulties and evils -connected with this, I think one of the most useful things in the school -is that children come into intimate relation with a number of different -personalities. The children also meet in general assemblies—for singing, -and for the report of the whole school work as read by members of the -different groups. The older children are also given a half hour a week -in which to join some of the younger groups, and, if possible, as in -hand-work, enter into the work of the younger children. In various ways -we are attempting to keep a family spirit throughout the school, and not -the feeling of isolated classes and grades. - -The organization of the teaching force has gradually become -departmental, as the needs of the work have indicated its chief -branches. So we now have recognized divisions of Science, History, -Domestic or Household Arts, Manual Training in the limited sense (wood -and metals), Music, Art (that is, drawing, water colors, clay modeling, -etc.), and Gymnasium. As the work goes on into the secondary period, the -languages and mathematics will also of necessity assume a more -differentiated and distinct position. As it is sometimes said that -correlated or thoroughly harmonized work cannot be secured upon this -basis, I am happy to say that our experience shows positively that there -are no intrinsic difficulties. Through common devotion to the best -development of the child, through common loyalty to the main aims and -methods of the school, our teachers have demonstrated that in education, -as in business, the best organization is secured through proper regard -for natural divisions of labor, interest, and training. The child -secures the advantage in discipline and knowledge of contact with -experts in each line, while the individual teachers serve the common -thought in diverse ways, thus multiplying and reinforcing it. - -Upon the moral side, that of so-called discipline and order, where the -work of the University Elementary School has perhaps suffered most from -misunderstanding and misrepresentation, I shall say only that our ideal -has been, and continues to be, that of the best form of family life, -rather than that of a rigid graded school. In the latter, the large -number of children under the care of a single teacher, and the very -limited number of modes of activity open to the pupils, have made -necessary certain fixed and somewhat external forms of “keeping order.” -It would be very stupid to copy these, under the changed conditions of -our school, its small groups permitting and requiring the most intimate -personal acquaintance of child and teacher, and its great variety of -forms of work, with their differing adaptations to the needs of -different children. If we have permitted to our children more than the -usual amount of freedom, it has not been in order to relax or decrease -real discipline, but because under our particular conditions larger and -less artificial responsibilities could thus be required of the children, -and their entire development of body and spirit be more harmonious and -complete. And I am confident that the parents who have intrusted their -children to us for any length of time will agree in saying that, while -the children like, or love, to come to school, yet work, and not -amusement, has been the spirit and teaching of the school; and that this -freedom has been granted under such conditions of intelligent and -sympathetic oversight as to be a means of upbuilding and strengthening -character. - -At the end of three years, then, we are not afraid to say that some of -our original questions have secured affirmative answers. The increase of -our children from fifteen to almost one hundred, along with a practical -doubling of fees, has shown that parents are ready for a form of -education that makes individual growth its sole controlling aim. The -presence of an organized corps of instructors demonstrates that -thoroughly educated teachers are ready to bring to elementary education -the same resources of training, knowledge, and skill that have long been -at the command of higher education. The everyday work of the school -shows that children can live in school as out of it, and yet grow daily -in wisdom, kindness, and the spirit of obedience—that learning may, even -with little children, lay hold upon the substance of truth that -nourishes the spirit, and yet the forms of knowledge be observed and -cultivated; and that growth may be genuine and thorough, and yet a -delight. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES - - - 1. Silently corrected typographical errors. - 2. Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed. - 3. 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