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THIS little book is a growth. Into that growth, several elements have entered: among them are the author's experience as a pupil, first in the country district schools of New England; and his experience, for more than thirty years, as a teacher; together with the digested results of his reading and thinking on educational themes. He has here embodied the substance his instruction to many successive classes in Normal Schools, and the substance of numerous addresses before Teachers' Institutes and other educational meetings.
No attempt has been made to amplify any of the topics treated; on the contrary, a constant and persistent effort has been made to condense to the utmost limit consistent with clearness.
This is not a book of methods, although a few methods will be found in it. Its aim is, rather, to present, in a brief and compact form, such principles as underlie and give form to all methods worthy of attention.
As the title implies, the book as been written with special regard to the needs of young teachers, or of candidates for the teacher's office. But the author does not expect that such young persons will be able to master the book by a cursory reading; he does, however, flatter himself that young persons of good ability will be able to master the book thoroughly by careful and patient study.
Psychology is made the basis of the treatise; the author believes that in no other way can the subject be treated in a rational or scientific manner. Nothing in the present trend of educational thought is more marked than the growing desire to found all systems and methods of educational training on the principles revealed by a thorough inductive study of human nature.
Complete "Schemes" have been introduced, because the author has found that they were very helpful to his own students in their efforts to grasp and retain these subjects in an orderly and methodical way. If they are faithfully used, be believes that they may do the same good service for the reader that they have done for this students in the classroom.
The author does not flatter himself that every reader will yield a ready assent to all his statements; but he has given his opinions freely, as they have been formed in the light of his own thinking and experience. He bespeaks for them a candid consideration, and an acceptance, if, after careful thought, they shall seem reasonable.
Originality is by no means claimed for all that is here presented. The author has freely availed himself of any thing that his judgment commended, wherever it might be found. Yet, he has rarely expressed himself in the words of another.
This little book is sent forth with the hope that it may be found of some value in Normal Schools, Teachers' Classes, and Teachers' Institutes, as well as in the private reading of teachers, and, it may be added, of parents, also. If it shall contribute something to improve the training of the youth of our country, and to bring upon the stage of active life a generation better fitted to enjoy its privileges and to discharge its duties worthily, the author will be fully repaid for his labor.

EDWIN C. HEWETT.

NORMAL, JANUARY 18, 1884.
ILLINOIS STATE NORMAL UNIVERSITY,

PEDAGOGY.

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CHAPTER I.
GENERAL STATEMENT.

Pedagogy.--This new word, Pedagogy, * means the science and art of teaching; but it means more than that. It means the taking of young children, and, by means of both skillful teaching and wise training, leading them up to worthy manhood and womanhood.
It has been said that the ability to do this work well requires knowledge of three distinct kinds, or in three distinct fields; namely, a knowledge of the being who is to be taught and trained, a knowledge of those branches, by the study of which his mental growth is to be promoted, and a knowledge of the proper methods by which the matter to be taught, and the being to be taught, shall be brought into the most healthful and fruitful relations to each other.

Man: his Nature and Powers

.---It is, therefore, proper that we should begin our work by a consideration of the nature and powers of the being that we propose to teach and train. Man is curiously made up of mind and matter, so wonderfully blended that no one can tell exactly how they live and work together. Of the real nature of both mind and matter, we are profoundly ignorant. No one can tell what either is : we can study their phenomena only.
Man has a body, and he has a mind; he has, also powers that belong to the body, and others that belong to the mind. Pedagogy must study the laws of development and action, relating to both classes of power.

POWER is the ability to do something .

For the sake of distinction, we may call the powers that pertain to the body, as those shown by the muscles, material powers; and we may call those powers that pertain especially to the mind, as the power to remember, the power to love, etc., immaterial powers. To be sure, the mind's powers do not show themselves wholly independent of the body. When we remember or love, we use the brain; but we do not believe that the changes in the brain make memory or love, although the exercise of these powers is without doubt accompanied by changes in the brain. We do not believe that "the brain secretes thought as the liver secretes bile." The truth seems to be that, in some way not fully understood, the mind uses the brain as its instrument.
Our best philosophers teach us that the mind itself is one indivisible thing: it does not possess organs, as the body does, nor it is a bundle of powers; but it has many powers which it can exercise in various ways. When we love, it is the entire mind that loves, and not part of it, although it may work with more or less force in the act. The same is true when we remember, when we will, etc.
Grand Divisions of Mental Power.---The powers of the mind, or the immaterial powers of man, are very numerous; but he may all be arranged in three classes. This is the teaching of almost all of the modern philosophers; but, formerly, philosophers divided these powers into two groups instead of three.
The three groups of immaterial powers, or the powers of mind, are:
1st, Those powers by which we know, or the Intellect.
2nd, Those by which we feel, or the Sensibility.
3rd, The power by which we choose and execute, or the Will.

In speaking of the immaterial powers of man and their phenomena, we are obliged to borrow most of our terms from the body and its phenomena. This is a somewhat unfortunate, as the terms thus borrowed are likely to be misunderstood. The word feel, which we have just used, is an example of such a term. When one speaks of feeling sorrow, he means something very different from that which he means when he speaks of feeling the table with his finger. In the latter case, he means an affection of the mind through the nerves of the body. This is perception, or an exercise of one of the knowing powers. In the former case, he means an affection of the mind independent of the nerves, as when he feels sorrow for the loss of a friend. This is an exercise of sensibility.

The action of the three grand classes of mental powers may be illustrated in the following way: You take up a newspaper and read of the floods in the lower Mississippi valley. You are able to understand what the writer says -- to think his thoughts after him -- and his thoughts awaken new thoughts of your own. Thus, you see that you have the power to know, to think, -- or, you have Intellect. As you read of the sufferings the floods cause the people, you begin to pity them and to desire to relieve their suffering. You thus see that you have the power to feel, --or, you possess Sensibility. You learn that others are sending money to aid these poor people; moved by your feelings, you determine to join in the contribution. Thus, you see that you have the power to choose, to determine, --or, you have Will.
Thus, we have represented the three grand classes of mental powers; nor is there any mental faculty that can not be properly grouped under one of these three classes. Moreover, these classes of mental powers always act in the order here given. It is inconceivable that we should have feeling in regard to any matter till we know something about it, or think we do. Nor do we ever put forth any activity of the will till we are prompted to it by the same feeling.

This is illustrated in the case of the "prodigal son." He "came to himself," and thought; he felt, in respect to his wretched condition and the plenty at his father's house; he then resolved to arise and go to his father.

A wise writer, or orator, or teacher, who wants to lead men up to a resolution, always observe this order. He strives first to awaken thought, -- to make people know something about the matter in hand. He then seeks to arouse their feelings in view of what they know and think. It is only after both these results are reached that he hopes to bring them to any resolution, or choice, or action, respecting the matter.

CHAPTER II.

THE INTELLECT.

THE group of knowing powers, or the Intellect, is subdivided into four groups, viz.: the Presentative Powers, the Representative Powers, the Reflective Powers, and the Intuitive Power.

The presentative powers give us knowledge of the outside world through the senses.
The representative powers give us concepts of absent objects.
The reflective powers show us the relations and connections of objects, or of their concepts.
The intuitive power is the power by which we know certain fundamental things without being taught.

The word "object" must not be confined to material things.

The Presentative Powers. -- The Presentative Powers, often called the Perceptives, seem to get their name in this way: The ancients used to divide the universe, for every man, into the Ego and the Non-ego; the Ego is the man himself, and the Non-ego includes everything except himself. The presentative powers, or the senses, present, as it were, the things of the Non-ego to the Ego, shut up, as he seems to be, somewhere in this bodily tenement,--they are a kind of "introductions committee."
The senses are commonly said to be five in number,--Feeling, or the sense of touch; Seeing, Hearing, Tasting, and Smelling. To these, some philosophers add a sixth sense, which they call the Sense of Resistance to the muscular effort.
FEELING is the most general of all the senses, as it extends over the whole body, wherever the nerves are found. There is some propriety in saying that the others senses are modifications of feeling, because they all require special nerves for their action. All these special nerves are located in the head. Two of the sense, seeing and hearing, in addition to the special nerves, also require curiously constructed organs.

Most of the words used to designate the powers of the mind may also signify the acts which the powers perform; thus, Feeling may mean the power to feel, or the act of feeling. The same is true of Memory, Judgment, etc. Whenever we use one of these words, we do well to think carefully whether we mean by it the power, or the act which that power is able to perform.

The sense of feeling make us acquainted with such objects only as are close to us. It also acts slowly, from the parts to the whole; this is illustrated by the actions of a blind man as he studies objects that he handles. We all act in a similar way when we grope in the dark.
SEEING is very different; it shows us objects that are near, or very distant, and it acts very rapidly; it gives us notions of things as wholes at first, and afterward studies their parts. The special nerves of sight are called the optic nerves. But sight can not act when light is absent, nor when the rays are obstructed by opaque objects.
HEARING.--The medium through which we hear must always be present where life is possible, for it is the air we breathe; nor do intervening objects wholly prevent our hearing. No other sense affects the emotions so quickly or so deeply as hearing; this is seen in the effects of music, or of the tones of the voice. The auditory nerve is special nerve of hearing.

The senses we have considered make us acquainted with the size, shape, position, resonance, etc., of bodies; in other words, with such qualities as have relation to space.

TASTING AND SMELLING.--But tasting and smelling, by means of the gustatory and olfactory nerves, enable us to learn much of the composition and condition of bodies. We judge by these senses whether substance are fit to be taken into our organism or not. Hence, the special nerves for these senses are found in the mouth and nose, the gateways to the stomach and lungs.
SENSE OF RESISTANCE.--When you allow an object to merely touch your hand, you simply feel it; but when you let it rest upon your hand, and put forth muscular effort to sustain it, your sense seems to give you something besides simple feeling; you have a sense of something resisting your muscular effort. This is why philosophers say that there is a sixth sense; and they say that no other sense makes us know so soon and so certainly that there are objects outside of our own organism.

Teachers can teach young children a great many truths about the "five senses," but they would better say nothing about the sixth sense. Children should understand that it is the mind that acts through these nerves and organs of the senses. The eye does not see; but the mind sees by means of the eye.
Because the sense of resistance to muscular effort is not regarded by all as a separate sense, distinct from mere feeling, we have placed an interrogation mark after it in the scheme.

The Representative Powers.--The representative powers give us concepts of absent objects in two ways; viz., either as they are or were, or as they might be. When the concept is as the object was or is, the mental act is reproduction. If you know that the thing reproduced is a concept of some former mental possession, you recognize it, or know it again. These two mental acts--reproduction and recognition--make up the act of memory; hence,

MEMORY is that representative power which brings before the mind concepts of absent objects as they are or were, and recognizes them.

Concepts of anything the mind has ever possessed, -- sights, sounds, tastes, thoughts, feelings, former concepts, etc., may thus come before the mind and be recognized, for memory can bring before us all these things.

It is probable that a very large share of the concepts that are really reproductions are not recognized; they may seem to us to be original; often we question when a thing "comes into the mind," whether it is something that we remember, or is really a new thing. Not long since, a certain eminent preacher was accused of plagiarism. It seems to be clear that he had used in his sermon whole sentences just as they were to be found in a book, which he had admitted he had read. His defense was that his mind had great tenacity in retaining words, and that these words were not recognized when they were reproduced. Whatever the fact may have been, his defense was psychologically a plausible one.

IMAGINATION is that representative power which gives us concepts of absent objects, not as they are or were, but as they might be.

Illustrations .--You turn your face towards a church and notice carefully how it looks; you are now perceiving it by sight. You turn away, and before your "mind's eye" stands the same form as clearly as before: the representative power has reproduced a concept of what was perceived. You know that you are conceiving of the building as it was, so you recognize the concept,--you remember the building.
You now begin to play with this concept; you replace the brick with stone; you give it extra towers; you elevate the spire to twice its present height, etc. You are now conceiving of the absent object as it might be. Imagination is at work.

CHAPTER III.

THE INTELLECT. -- Concluded.

The Reflective Power acts in several ways; authors do not agree fully in respect to their number. We may safely indicate five of these ways of acting, and perhaps the list will not be exhausted. The five of which we shall speak are: Comparing, Abstracting, Judging, Generalizing, and Reasoning .

By some authors, the Reflective Power is called the Understanding; by others, it is called the Elaborative Faculty.
Because writers on Psychology do not agree as to the exact number of forms in which the Reflective Power acts, we have placed the abbreviation Etc. After our list, in the Scheme.

COMPARING.--As the Reflective Power deals with the relations of things, or of the concepts of things, rather than with the things themselves, it will be obvious that much of its action must be in the form of comparison. It notes the relations of size, length, position, density, value, purpose, cause and effect, agreement, and a multitude of others.

Comparison is clearly involved in abstracting, judging, generalizing, reasoning, etc.; hence, some writers regard comparison as including all the various forms of the Reflecting Power.

ABSTRACTING.--It is seen that the process of abstraction is a very common one, when we observe the large number of abstract terms which are used even by children and uncultivated people. The process of abstraction has sometimes been illustrated in this way: you look at several objects having a common color, as a red ribbon, a red book, a red necktie, etc. You note their color in connection with the other qualities of those objects. You now perceive the color in the concrete. You turn away, or shut your eyes, and think of what you have just seen; you now conceive the color in the concrete. Again, you drop out of thought all the other qualities of the several objects, but still think of the color in connection with each object; you are now conceiving of the color in the discrete. Once more, all thought of the objects disappears, and you think of the color only, apart from every object and from all other qualities. You are now conceiving of redness in the abstract,--that is, drawn away from everything else. It is probable that some such process as this is often gone through with by those who have not thought of the peculiar form of mental activity they are exercising.
JUDGING.--In judging, the mind holds before itself two concepts, and decides that they agree or disagree; these concepts may be simple or very complex. You bring before your mind a concept of the thing we call snow, and a concept of the quality whiteness; you decide that these agree, and you say, "Snow is white." You bring before your mind a concept of the act called murder, and a concept of the quality rightness; you decide that they do not agree, and you say, "Murder is not right." Every judgment, then, involves two concepts, and the decision respecting them.

PROPOSITION.--The expression of a judgment is a proposition .

This definition is often expressed in a false form by saying, "A proposition is a judgment expressed." In objection to this, we say a proposition is not a judgment expressed or unexpressed; the judgment is the thing, the proposition is the expression or symbol of the thing. Here, as everywhere, the teacher can not afford to confound a thing and its symbol.
As a judgment involves three things, so a proposition must have three parts; these we call subject, attribute, and copula. The subject is the word or words denoting the principle concept; the attribute is the word or words denoting the related concept; and the copula is the word or words expressing the decision. Both copula and attribute may be expressed by a single word, as in the proposition, Water flows. In this relation of judgment and proposition is the foundation of grammar.

GENERALIZING.--In generalizing, the mind acts in a direction the reverse of that in abstracting; instead of taking several objects and drawing from them a common quality, we take a quality and group together the objects that possess it. A large part of the work of the student of natural science is of this kind. If we take the quality of possessing a backbone, we may group together all the animals that have this quality, and call them vertebrates. Of course, an act of judgment must precede the putting of every object into its class, or the rejection of it from a class.

The common quality according to which we generalize may be obvious, but not important, as in the formation of the group of animals called quadrupeds; in such a case, we have merely a loose classification. In true generalization, or scientific classification, we arrange the objects with reference to some important or fundamental quality. Should a servant girl classify a library, probably she would do it very loosely, putting together books of the same color, or size, or condition; the owner would classify by arranging the books according to their contents,--putting together those which treat of a common subject.

REASONING.--We can not enter very fully into the subject of Reasoning,--Logic is a science in itself. In a process of systematic reasoning, we compare two related propositions, and deduce a third which necessarily follows from the comparison. The two given propositions are called premises; the on derived is called the conclusion. To illustrate: 1st, Four pencils cost four times as much as one pencil; 2nd, One pencil costs three cents; hence, 3rd, Four pencils cost four times three cents, or twelve cents. Here the first premise states a general truth; the second premise states a contingent truth, and the conclusion inevitably follows from the premises. The two premises and the conclusion together make up a syllogism. A process of reasoning may make clear what is involved in the premises, but it can never lead to the discovery of any thing not contained in the premises.

The Intuitive Power

.--It is said that the Intuitive Power acts in only one way, but its products are of two kinds. By this power, we know certain necessary, self-evident truths, and also certain fundamental notions or ideas.

Some assert that we get all our knowledge, of every sort, through experience and reflection; they claim that this is as true in regard to what we have called the truths and ideas of intuition as it is of our knowledge of the qualities of objects. We hold, however, that observation and experience merely furnish an occasion for this kind of knowledge; they do not cause us to have it.

TRUTHS.--Thus, we know that a part can not equal the whole; we know that the same thing can not be in two places at the same time; we know that a statement can not be both true and not true at the same time and in the same sense. All such truths every sane and sound mind knows at once, as soon as it is capable of comprehending clearly what is said. We can not disbelieve them, if we try. No attempt at proof can make us believe them any more firmly. In fact, no proof of them is possible; we may illustrate such truths, but we can not demonstrate them. Many of these truths are included in the axioms of mathematics; but there are axioms which do not belong to mathematics.
All necessary, self-evident truths, have these three characteristics: 1st, They are true everywhere, and at all times; 2d, They can not be demonstrated; 3d, The contradictory of any one of them is manifestly absurd. To illustrate, take the axiom that a whole is equal to the sum of all its parts. This must be true everywhere, and it must be true at all times. We may illustrate it,--that is, we may show it to be true in any given case; but we can not prove that it will always be true in every case. The contradictory, viz., that the whole is not equal to the sum of all its parts, is seen to be absurd at once by any one capable of understanding the statement.
IDEAS.--Philosophers do not agree as to the number of fundamental ideas given us by Intuition. We may safely say that there are seven of them, at least; viz., Being, Time, Space, Beauty, Cause, Right, and Personal Identity .
Being .--By the intuitive idea of Being, we mean that all men naturally and always believe in the existence of themselves and of other things. None but crazy men and some philosophers ever think or talk as if there could be any doubt about this.
Time .--The intuitive idea of Time means the necessary notion of time as passing whenever we think of the occurrence of events. We can not rid ourselves of this idea; in thought we may empty time of every event, but we can not think the time away. In respect to definite amounts of time, we exercise our judgment and experience; but the idea that there must be some amount of time is intuitive.
Space .--The intuitive idea of Space is very similar. We judge the amounts of space in any particular instance, but we can not get rid of the idea that space is, and must be; we can empty it in thought, but we can not think it away, nor think of it as finite.
Beauty.--The intuitive idea of Beauty is that there is, and must be, such a thing as beauty; or in other words, that some things are beautiful and some are not. The child shows that he has this idea very early; "pretty" is one of his first words. The judgment decides as to the beauty of any particular thing, and the decisions differ very widely.
Cause .--We believe intuitively that every effect must have a cause; the child shows that this idea is inherent by his questions "Why?" "What makes it?" etc. A cause that is not itself caused is inconceivable to him; is it not beyond the conception of any one? Judgment pronounces as to what the cause is, in a particular case.

It is highly important that we do not confound the occasion of a thing with its cause. The occasion of a thing allows it to be or to be done; the cause makes it to be or to be done. To illustrate: The expansive force of steam is the cause of motion in the locomotive; the opening of the valve, or throttle, is the occasion of the motion.

Right .--The idea that there is such a thing as Right,--that some things are right, and others are wrong,--seems to be intuitive. "Is it right?" is a question that has a meaning to a very young child; parents and teachers would do better to ask it more frequently. Judgment decides whether a specific thing is right or not.
Personal Identity .--No sane person can divest himself of the idea that he is himself,--the same personality that he always has been,--it is intuitive; he is conscious that it is so, and that is the end of all question. Nor would the testimony of a thousand strengthen his conviction.
We may say that a knowledge of these fundamental, intuitive truths and ideas is innate, --that is, we are so constituted at birth that, as soon as the occasion arises for this knowledge, we have it, and that without any instruction or study. And we take it for granted that every one else has this knowledge the same as we have; we pronounce one an idiot, or insane, if he is lacking in this respect. For, a recognition of these products of Intuition constitutes what we call natural reason; and when one loses this knowledge,--as, for instance, when one loses this knowledge,--as, for instance, when one imagines himself the Czar of Russia,--we say that he has lost his reason. Reason, as we here use it, must not be confounded with the Power of reasoning; some insane people can reason most logically, but they have lost their reason, as they show in various ways.

Review

.--Let us look, for a moment, at the four grand forms of intellectual power, as we have studied them.
The Presentative Powers gather knowledge for us.
The Representative Powers treasure the knowledge we have gained.
The Reflective Power examines this knowledge, and discovers its import and its value and use.
The Intuitive Power gives us a knowledge of the regulative truths and ideas that must be regarded in our work.
Or, if we compare knowledge to grain, the presentative powers are the reaper; the representative powers are the granary; the reflective power is the mill, and the intuitive power provides for the correct performance of the work. Grain is of no value till it is gathered and stored; nor can it be of any use until it is ground; but let us remember that every thing which shall appear in the final product must have gone into the "hopper." The mill creates nothing.

CHAPTER IV.

THE SENSIBILITY, WILL, ETC.

The Sensibility

.---We have studied briefly the different forms of intellectual power; we will now turn our attention to the Sensibility. We shall not attempt an exhaustive analysis of this power, but we will mention only a few of its forms that are most concerned in the work of the educator. We will speak of the Appetites and Desires, Loves, Hates, Admiration, and Reverence.
Appetites and Desires.--When we speak of the Appetites, we usually mean such desires as have reference to the body, like the desire for sleep, food, etc. We use the term Desires in distinction from Appetites, to signify such desires as do not pertain especially to bodily wants, as the desire for praise, for excellence, etc.
LOVES.--We put the word Love in the plural, meaning to include not only what may strictly be called love, as love of friends, country, etc., but also what might be more properly called a liking, as a fondness for fine dress, for certain articles of food, etc.
HATES.--The word Hate is put in the plural for a similar reason. We mean by it not only hate properly so called, as a hate for evil things, but also all the different aversions and dislikes, as well.
ADMIRATION.--The word Admiration was formerly nearly synonymous with wonder. It retains something of the same meaning still, but there is added to wonder a sense of approbation as well. We admire that which seems to us wonderful and pleasing at the same time.
REVERENCE.--By Reverence, we mean a profound respect for what is great or good, or both. When it becomes intense, we call it Veneration.
Conscience.---There is another very important power or faculty of the mind which we would class with the sensibilities, or emotions, or feelings, although it is by no means so placed by all writers. We refer to the Conscience, which we believe is primarily and properly a feeling; but many, holding that conscience includes a judgment of what is right or wrong, as well as a feeling in respect to what is right or wrong, are inclined to class it among the knowing faculties, or, perhaps, rather to put it in a class by itself. We would define Conscience as follows:

CONSCIENCE is the feeling that prompts us to do what we believe is right, and to avoid what we believe is wrong, and that commends us when we obey it, and condemns us when we disobey it.

It is judgment that determines whether any particular thing is right or wrong. In respect to their judgments as to what is right and what is wrong, men differ widely; their conclusions are sometimes diametrically opposed to each other. Yet, regarding the right or wrong of many things, as murder, cruelty, oppression, kindness, truth, honesty, etc., the judgments of men are nearly harmonious.

But, if our definition of conscience is correct, then we may say that conscience is the same in all men, and in all ages; its action is always uniform. It is said that the Hindoo mother conscientiously throws her babe into the Ganges, while the Christian mother conscientiously preserves and cherishes her offspring; and, hence, we are told that conscience acts very differently in different cases. Now, it seems clear that conscience is the same, and acts in the same way, in both women; each does what she believes to be right. Owing to a difference in education, probably, their judgments lead to different conclusions; but in their consciences, they agree completely.
We have said that our definition of conscience would not be accepted at all; but we believe it to be correct. If it were accepted, and the proper distinction between judgment and conscience were always kept in mind, many of the vexatious disputes concerning conscience would be settled, or, at least, the discussion would be simplified.

The Will.---The action of the Will takes only one form, but it involves two elements, as appears in the following definition :

There is not action of the Will when we execute without any choice; nor does choice constitute an act of the Will unless some effort is put forth in consequence of our choice. A mere choice, with no attempt at execution, is a wish. The moral quality of actions resides in the choices which lead to them; nor can we avoid the responsibility of choice. If, between any two courses of action, we choose not to follow either, we have exercised the power of choice in the act of not choosing.

THE WILL is the Power by which we choose and execute.

There is no action of the Will when we execute without any choice; nor does choice constitute an act of the Will unless some effort is put forth in consequence of our choice. A mere choice, with no attempt at execution, is a wish. The moral quality of actions resides in the choices which lead to them; nor can we avoid the responsibility of choice. If, between any two courses of actions, we choose not to follow either, we have exercised the power of choice in the act of not choosing.

Other Powers

.---We have already defined a Power as the ability to do something; but some philosophers make a distinction between a mental Power and a mental Faculty.

A FACULTY is a power under the control of the Will, having a specific work of its own to do .

According to this definition, we must class Seeing, Memory, Judgment, Love, etc., as mental faculties. But the mind has three very important powers that do not answer to the definition of faculties; these are, Consciousness, Attention, and Conception.

The powers of Consciousness, Attention, and Conception never act separately from each other, nor from some one or more of the mind's faculties. These powers are not co-ordinate with the other mental powers, but are connected with them all. Hence, in the Scheme on page 14, [scheme II] their names are written across, opposite a brace that includes the powers of all the three Grand Divisions.

CONSCIOUSNESS is the power the mind has to know its own actions and states, and know them as belonging to the Ego .

This is not a faculty; it is not under the control of the Will, nor does it perform any specific act of itself--it gives cognizance of the acts performed by the faculties.

Whether there can be any mental action of which we are not conscious, is a question that has been much discussed. It seems very clear that there can be no proper activity of the mind if we are not conscious of that activity; not to know that one sees, is not to see. No doubt, however, there is a great deal of brain activity of which we are not conscious. When we perform any habitual act, as walking, we know that every muscular movement is prompted by an action of the brain, directly or indirectly; but, having once put the "machine in motion," we have not consciousness of the further action of the brain; the movements seem to be purely automatic. There is brain activity, no doubt, but we believe that it does not involve any mental activity, properly speaking.
What we have called brain activity, as distinct from mental activity, is called "unconscious cerebration" by many writers.
Some writers speak of "unconscious knowledge." Such an expression seems to be contradictory in terms. Yet much of our knowledge, doubtless, has not been consciously formulated; a child or a savage knows that a part can not equal the whole, and still he may not be able to state his knowledge to another,--perhaps his mind has never conceived such a statement.

ATTENTION is the power the mind has to bring all its force to bear on one thing .

Important as this power is, it produces no result alone, and of itself. Hence, it is not to be considered a faculty, although it is under the control of the Will.

When we say that Attention is under the control of the Will, we do not mean that it never acts except in obedience to a mandate of the Will, but simply that the Will can cause it to act. The same is true of other voluntary powers; we often remember without willing to do so, but Memory can be moved by the Will.
If it be asked how the mind turns its force to one thing in an act of the attention, the answer seems to be that it is done by not allowing the mental force to move toward any thing else.
Illustration .--The mental current may be compared to a stream of water--it flows constantly. In revery and absence of attention, it is like that stream flowing down the mountain side, and spreading, unrestricted, over the meadows; it may be pleasant enough, but it does not work. When one wishes to put the stream to work, he puts a dam across it, and allows no place of escape, except at the point where he puts his wheel. So we put the mind to work by confining the mental force to one point of escape. If we can do this completely, the attention is perfect,-- no force is lost; if not, the power in part escapes like lost water through a leaky dam.
The question is discussed, whether we can perform any mental act without some degree of attention. As in the same question respecting consciousness, the answer is clearly in the negative. The reason is essentially the same; it is inconceivable that there can be consciousness of that to which no attention is given.
It is also asked whether the mind can attend to more than one thing at a time; much has been written on this question. It seems clear that we can attend to several things; but, is such a case, the attention is not perfect, of course.

CONCEPTION.--It is not easy to frame a short and satisfactory definition for Conception, although there is a little difficulty in mentioning the particular things that it does. It is the power by which we see with the "mind's eye" things not present; by which we perceive the abstract relations of things; by which we get clear notions through discourse or thinking; by which we understand why and how things may be, etc.
When a teacher, after explaining a problem in algebra, asks the pupil if he "sees it," he means to ask if it is clear to his conception; of course, he means to ask if it is clear to his conception; of course, he has no reference to the act of sight. Perhaps the best short statement for Conception, is to say that it is the power by which we see with the "minds eye." When we conceive of a thing fully, we see all its limitations; we "take it in;" we comprehend it. But we often apprehend things that we can not comprehend; just as one may see something of a mountain when much of it is hidden in clouds.

We must not limit the possibility of things by our power to comprehend them. Many possible things are inconceivable; for instance, the matter of this earth must have been created out of nothing, or it must always have existed in some form without any beginning; both these things are utterly inconceivable, and yet not only is one of them possible things are perfectly conceivable, as the passage of a flying ship to the moon.

Conception is largely under the control of the Will, but it accompanies all the other mental powers, and produces no specific work of its own; hence, it is not a faculty.

There is a special use of the Conceptive power in forming abstract, general concepts; for instance, when the ideas of surface limited by three lines, are combined, we have the abstract, general concept signified by the word triangle. This combination is made by Conception acting with the Reflective Power; such a use of the Conceptive Power my be called Logical Conception.

Use of the Powers

.---Having made this brief survey of the mental powers and faculties, we may ask: Are some of these good and some bad? Are some to be cherished and cultivated, and some to be crushed out? The truth is, that all were given for a good use, and all may be abused; it is just as wrong to love evil as to hate good. Even veneration may work the greatest evil, as in the idolater. All these powers are good in one sense, is they are well adapted to their purpose; just as a knife is good, if it is made of good steel. But moral goodness can not be predicated of the powers any more than it can of the knife; the good knife may be used to carve a roast or to kill a man, -- the moral quality lies in the use.
So all these powers may be used for good or for bad purposes, and it should be the business of education to make all these powers efficient, and also to lead to their right use in all cases, and to prevent their wrong use.

CHAPTER V.

WHAT IS EDUCATION?

WHAT is education? If this question were put to each person who proposes to teach school, the answers would be very different. Probably it would appear that many of the candidates for the teacher's position had never seriously thought of the question,--had never clearly set before their own minds the nature of the work they were about to undertake.

Learning not Education

.---Doubtless, many would show that, in their thought, education is simply the acquiring of knowledge,--the laying up of a store of facts, in the memory; they would make learning and education synonymous terms. Probably this is the common opinion of a majority of our people. But is should be clearly understood that learning is not education. Without doubt, they are closely related; learning is an aid to education; on one can become truly educated without becoming more or less learned. But the two words do not mean the same thing. Learning is a possession; but education is a part of one's self; it gives one the mastery of himself,--it trains and develops his powers, and gives him control over them.

Many men are learned, but not educated; that is, they have an extensive knowledge of the facts of science, or literature, or history; but they have never learned how to use them is such a way as to make them a source of power to themselves. On the other hand, many men may be said to be well educated, who are not very learned. They have no great stores of knowledge, but they have made such use of the knowledge they have obtained that their powers have been strengthened and developed, and they have come to be masters of themselves. The stock of knowledge that they may have acquired in school or college, or they may have acquired in school or college, or they may have acquired most of it on the farm, or in the factory, or shop; or, as in the case of Lincoln, by poring over a few books by the light of a pine knot in the kitchen.

Definitions.--- "Education is the development of the faculties, or germs of power, in man, and the training of them into harmonious action in obedience to the laws of reason and morality ."

An eminent teacher has briefly defined education as cultured growth .
If we examine the word itself in respect to its radical meaning, we get essentially the same thought; the root of the word, duc , is from a Latin verb meaning to lead , and the prefix e is from the preposition ex , meaning out .

EDUCATION is a leading out or developing of the powers whose germs the child possesses at his birth .

All these definitions are in substantial harmony; and they show that education really means much more than simply storing the mind with facts. The getting of knowledge is an important part of school work; but it is not all, nor is it the most important. The development of power in all right directions is the main business of the school, and all the knowledge obtained should be gained and used in such a way as to help forward this growth of power.
Some writers on education are inclined to speak of certain studies as useful chiefly in giving information, while others have their chief value in the training they give,--they are a kind of mental gymnastics. The last class of studies they sometimes call forming studies; and the first, informing studies. This distinction does not, however, seem to be a very wise one; all proper studies give useful information, and all studies can be so pursued as to aid in the development of mental power. And, however valuable the knowledge gained, the growth of power should be the chief aim of all our school work.

Relation of Teacher and Pupil.---Now, what can the teacher do in the work of a true education? The work of the real educator is quite like that of the skillful gardener or nurseryman. He prepares the soil, he puts the seed in the proper place, he watches the growing shoot, he stirs the earth about it, he removes weeds and insects that would injure it, etc. In this way, the result is something quite different from what it would have been without the gardener, --the result is a "cultivated growth." The plant has done the growing; the gardener has contributed the culture. So with the person who is educated,--the result will depend chiefly on the putting forth of his own power. Strictly speaking, one can not give another an education; he may contribute the culture, but the growth must always come from within, by the pupil's own effort. It seems that there are only four things possible for a teacher to do in this process, viz.:
He may arouse, incite, and encourage his pupil.
He may set before him the right kind and amount of work to do.
He may guide him to do the work in the right way.
He may make the circumstances favorable by saving him from the annoyance of others, etc.
What more can he do?

Given Powers Only

.---Nor is it in the power of the educator to change the nature of the child. Every child that is sound and sane is born with the germs of all the powers common to human beings, but these germs have very different degrees of strength in different persons. Hence, it follows that no processes of education can make all to be alike; nor can any one become very strong by a process of education in any direction, if, by his native endowment, he is weak in that direction.

If Newton had been educated for an artist, even under the best teachers, and Angelo had been educated for a mathematician, under teachers equally good, it is not at all probable that these eminent men would have changed places; most likely neither would have achieved distinction.

A SPECIAL EDUCATION has for its purpose the acquiring of some art, or trade, or profession. In such an education, it would be foolish to spend one's effort in cultivating weaker powers; excellent endowments in any direction indicate that in that direction lies the road to the greatest power and usefulness. Hence, the folly of choosing a career for a young man before he is old enough to have shown his individual peculiarities,--to have determined his "bent."
A GENERAL EDUCATION has for its purpose to make of the given child the best possible specimen of a man or woman. This should be the education attempted in all our common schools and colleges. As the man or woman should be symmetrical as possible in all that pertains to a manly or womanly character, it follows that, in such an education, weakness in any direction calls for special effort to develop the child in that particular,--a course quite the opposite of that to be taken in a special education.
Nor should the work of special education be undertaken till that of a general education is fairly done. The man is more than the artist, or doctor, or mechanic. It is a pity that so many of our American youth are so impatient to undertake their life-work that they have not patience to lay a broad general foundation before they attempt to build their special structure. The result is weakness and narrowness to the end of their career.

Education Requires Time

.---Our age is marked by mechanical invention; by the steam engine, the telegraph, the labor-saving machine, etc., we are able to do many things much more rapidly than we once could. Many seem disposed to think that something may be contrived by which the work of education may be shortened in a corresponding degree. In fact, if we may judge by the astonishing professions and promises of some very young institutions, we might conclude that the "short cut" to an education has been found, --or, at least, that it is expected to make people believe that it has been found.

Why is it not reasonable to expect that the work of education can be thus shortened, seeing that we have achieved such wonderful results in other things? The answer is easy. All these wonderful inventions result in mechanical effects. Education is growth. If one wishes his lot enclosed by a fence, he can have it done in a few hours by employing workmen enough; but if he chooses to have a living hedge around it, he must wait. When some method is found by which a fine sugar-maple, three feet in diameter, can be produced in six months, then it will be time enough to listen to these very smart people who promise a finished education is the same time.

Principles and Methods

.---We have taken a brief survey of the most important powers of man. We have seen what Education really is, and what it ought to do for these powers.
Let us now make some suggestions in respect to the work of training or educating these powers.
BEST METHODS.--It is not our purpose to give any set of best methods for doing this work. Such a task would be utterly impossible, for the simple reason that one must be largely governed by circumstances in the devising or adopting of methods. It will follow, from what is said above, that a method which may be good for one set of pupils, may be worthless for another set; or, a method good for pupils in some circumstances, may not be good for the same pupils in different circumstances. Hence, the truth of a remark once made by a shrewd teacher: "Best methods! there are no best methods!"
It is wise to study methods, not for servile imitation, but for suggestion. It is frequently wise to adapt methods, but rarely or never to adopt them. It is true, however, that all good methods rest upon sound principles; these never change, but the methods founded upon them may vary indefinitely. It will not follow from this that every method is a good one which recognizes a correct principle. It is one of the soundest principles of pedagogy that no teacher can proceed profitably with his work till he has the attention of his class. But he would hardly be a wise teacher who would attempt to gain that attention by firing a pistol, or by standing on his head, although he would gain the attention in either case without doubt.
FOUR GRAND PRINCIPLES.---Before making any direct suggestions as to training the powers, let us state four fundamental truths of pedagogy.

Any power under the control of the will may be cultivated or trained .
The powers are trained in one way, and in one way only; viz, by WISE USE. This law of work is the one unchangeable law of progress everywhere .
The wisest training will be directed to those powers that are conspicuously active at the time .
An indispensable prerequisite to any profitable training is careful attention to the matter in hand .

Further words in respect to the third principle may be necessary. We have said that every sane and sound child is born with a germ of every power that is common to man. But these germs do not develop at the same time, as every one at all familiar with child-life must know.

And one who is not familiar with child-life has no business to attempt to teach children,--of all the text-books on pedagogy, the most valuable is a baby or a young child. He who neglects the loving study of this "living epistle" will never become very wise in a knowledge of the correct teaching and training of children, no matter what else he may study.

Right Order in Education.---Now, one who studies children, even a little, will soon observe that at first the Presentative powers seem to be active almost alone, so far as the intellect is concerned; seeing, hearing, feeling, and tasting are the child's occupations. Memory and Imagination soon follow, while Reasoning and Reflection are long delayed. This fact clearly shows what should be the field of effort in the teaching and training of young children; it should include---
Training in sense-perception,
Proper expression by words , and
Manual activity .
Instead of following such a course with young children as the above statement would indicate, how often the commands are, "Sit still," "Don't talk," "Study your book!" And in studying the book,--that dry, conventional, artificial thing,--the effort is not made to help the child to see correctly what is in the book, and to learn from it such things as his present state of development would allow him to grasp and appreciate, but to crowd his memory with such words as can have no meaning till he has learned to use his powers of reflection, abstraction, and reasoning.

Thus, the powers already active are neglected, that a vain, stupefying, deadening effort may be made in an appeal to powers that will remain comparatively dormant for years. Not seldom is he required to learn and to give logical forms of reasoning, as in "mental" arithmetic, while his mind is wholly in the perceptive and imaginative stages. It is as though the gardener, having beans and potatoes planted in his garden at the same time, should go out and hoe around where his potatoes will appear by-and-by, but neglect to pay any attention to his beans already above ground and in great danger of being choked by the weeds.

Training the Senses

.---In the light of what has been said, the usefulness and the philosophic character of the "Kindergarten" will be very apparent. But, it would seem that the apparatus and the methods of the kindergarten are not available for the ordinary district school at present; and, perhaps, they will not be for a long time to come. The question is, Can the teacher of the ordinary district school, with only the ordinary appliances to be found there, do any thing to train young children in accordance with these truths and principles? We answer, "Yes, much every way."

The Sight

.--- There is no end to the ways in which a thoughtful teacher in such a school may help to train the sight of the pupil; but we can only suggest.
OUT-OF-DOORS.--Different kinds of vegetation are all about him. Train him to observe the different forms of leaves, grasses, and flowers. He will respond heartily and gladly to such an effort. You have but to hint that you want specimens, and they will be forthcoming in perplexing abundance. Is there any reason why children in the country should be ignorant of the different forms of foliage about them? Surely, they will take delight in noting the characteristic forms of the leaves of the maple, the oak, the elm, the apple, etc. Would not this be as useful, aside from the training of sense, as a good deal of what they are required to learn? Why not have them learn to note the forms of the different grasses, and the humbler plants, as well as the leaves of the grains and garden vegetables?
In connection with this study of the forms of foliage, many a weary hour may be beguiled in attempts to copy or to reproduce some of the forms on their slates.
And, the, what endless lessons in colors, their names, their combinations, etc., as shown in the flowers, or in bright colored yarns or bits of calico, or in samples that any teacher can make with the aniline dyes! And what a field for training children's eyes in observing the shapes and sizes and colors of the animal world all about them! Will they perform the dull, necessary drudgery of bookstudy less earnestly or efficiently for a few minutes spent in waking up the mind by some such exercise in seeing, and endeavoring to describe what they see by word or by pencil?

It is a custom in the famous Quincy schools to allow the pupils ten minutes each morning in telling what they observed on the way to school. Here, sight and language both are cultivated; and it should be remembered that training in the art of expression must be kept up through the whole of the school course.
The little pupil on his way to school, earnest to see something of interest to describe to a sympathetic teacher, will be a very different object from Shakespeare's "whining school-boy, with his satchel and shining morning face, creeping like a snail unwillingly to school."

IN THE SCHOOL-ROOM.--We have made some suggestions about training the sight to see things outside of the school-room. Let us now suggest some exercises for training the same sense in dealing with things in the school-room.
Pictures. -- Here, especially with quite young children, much may be done with pictures. And, happily, most of the text-books for little children are now filled with beautiful and instructive pictures.
Put before the class a picture of a farm-yard scene, for instance. Let each one point out the distinct objects that he sees in the picture. Get him to think about them, and to express his thoughts. Do not put words into his mouth, but encourage his own expression, however crude and imperfect it may be. Continue with the picture until it is exhausted; --until every object has been noticed. Commend him who can find the most things to see, and can say most about them, but do not do it in such a way as to discourage the slow and the awkward.
By such a process, not only is the eye trained, but an inexhaustible store of material is gathered for language lessons. And, with even very young children, some of the statements may be put in writing, thus teaching, in a natural way, penmanship, spelling, the structure of sentences, and some of the most obvious uses of punctuation.

One who never tried the experiment will be surprised to see how much more interest a child will take in a picture that he has been taught to see. Give a book full of beautiful and appropriate pictures into the hand of a little child without any guidance, and he will glance at them rapidly, one after another, and the book is a "squeezed orange" to him. Restrict him to one or two pictures at a time, teach him how to see them, and the same book will be an unfailing source of instruction and amusement for many days.

Children are often slow, blundering, and mechanical in their reading, simply because their eyes have never been taught to look ahead and to take in more words than the one they are trying to pronounce. One way to remedy this, is to have a stiff cardboard with a single sentence printed on it; or, better, a little hand black-board with a sentence written on it. Hold it for an instant before the class, then take it away and see who can pronounce the whole sentence.
Of course, these suggestions might be extended indefinitely; but the teacher who understands the true principles of his art, can multiply them indefinitely; and he will do so, when once his mind has awakened to their importance. The result aimed at is to make the sight quick, accurate, and comprehensive.
A SUGGESTED EXERCISE.-- Before leaving the subject of sight, we want to suggest another kind of exercise, which, if properly conducted, will give a three-fold result,--it will train the child's eye, it will give him useful information, and it will improve his language and increase his vocabulary.
Holding a book before the class, ask, "What have I?" This, to gain attention. Now, tell the children that you will hold it in two ways, and you want them to notice the two ways and to tell you about them. Hold the book horizontal, and let all notice the position, then hold it inclined, and let them observe. Ask how it was held the first time. The second time. You will get a variety of answers; but, probably, some one will say, "The first time it didn't tip, --the next time it tipped." Accept these answers for the present, and let the pupils hold books in the two ways. See that they do it accurately. Next tell them that you will give them a long word to tell how the book was the first time. Give the word "horizontal," --let it be carefully pronounced, and spelled both phonetically and by letter. Again, hold the book in the first way, and get the children to say, "The book is horizontal." Hold it the second way, and let them say, the book is not horizontal." Change this last statement, and substitute, "the book is inclined," or, "The book is oblique." Let the children point out horizontal surfaces and lines in the same room, taking care to have the same thing mentioned but once. Make horizontal and inclined lines on the board, and have them described. Let the pupils do the same. Let the pupils tell you of things they have seen outside the school-room that are horizontal. Here is matter enough suggested for several lessons; do not hurry; introduce much variety; give the pupils a good deal to do; do not let any lesson exceed ten minutes.
Take the word vertical, and treat it in a similar way; then the word parallel. Now give little exercises, such as, "Make three parallel, horizontal lines on the board;" three "parallel vertical lines," etc. Insist on having the work well done; lead the pupils to take pride in doing it well; let them describe their work in proper sentences.
The same general process may be followed in teaching a large number of geometric terms or forms, as angles of different kinds; triangles of different kinds; parallelogram, rectangle, square, sphere, cube, etc.
These are only suggestions,--the field is boundless.
Hearing.--Methods somewhat similar may be used for training the sense of Hearing, at school. Children might be allowed to report the sounds they hear, as well as the sights they see, on the way to school. Is it not as important that they should be able to recognize the calls and the songs of different birds, or the chirp of different insects, as it is to know the length of the Congo River, or the number of slain at the Battle of Bunker Hill?
Of course, successful hearing, as well as successful sight, depends primarily upon closeness of attention. But many teachers train their pupils not to attend to what they ought to hear. They do this by announcing lessons and issuing commands and requests over and over again, or by repeating questions in recitation, or by meaningless repetitions of answers given, as well as in many other ways.

Let the pupil once become thoroughly impressed that his teacher says nothing without a meaning,--that a clear statement once made will not be repeated, but that the school will be held responsible for hearing and observing it, and much will be done to quicken this sense.

As drawing should be called in to aid in training sight, so music should be used in training hearing. In this way, children may be taught to distinguish and to describe the pitch of tones, their varying length, and the different degrees of force, in connection with their little songs. Nor is the usefulness of such distinctions confined to singing, by any means. Correct pitch, and change of pitch at will, have as much to do with correct speaking or reading as with singing. The lifeless, monotonous reading of the dull, ill-taught pupil is often due to the fact either that his ear has not been trained to the distinctions of pitch and of power, or his organs have not been trained to produce those distinctions.
In connection with the training of the ear and the vocal organs, will come a study of inflections and slides of the voice, on which expression so largely depends.
In all his school work, the pupil should be trained to love and to make clear, pure tones. On this point, Dr. Lowell Mason used to insist with great earnestness in his lectures before teachers' institutes. All harshness of tone, screaming, and coarse, nasal utterance should be banished from the exercises of the school-room,--not encouraged, as they so often are, by the unwise teacher, whose constant admonition is, "Speak up loud." But such a teacher not only leads his pupils astray by his precepts; he generally does it by his example as well, in the loud, harsh, unnatural tones which he uses in the school-room. The teacher's voice should be perfectly natural, smooth, and clear, but not loud nor high-pitched.

We will omit any discussion respecting the training of the other senses, although we believe something interesting and useful is possible here.

CHAPTER VII.

TRAINING.---Continued.

Representative Powers

.---The Representative Powers, in the form of Memory and Imagination, awaken in the child almost as soon as the Perceptives. The child a few months old knows his mother's face from that of any other woman, which, of course, can be possible only as he remembers. In the years of childhood, from infancy to the age of twelve or fourteen, Memory is the characteristic faculty. It not only receives readily at this age, but it retains with astonishing tenacity. Let any one in advanced life compare the readiness with which he can recall what was committed to memory at this age with the difficulty he has in recalling what he has recently committed. This is the period, then, for "storing the mind." Memory is the faculty to be especially trained and exercised at this age.
In order to train the Memory, the child must be made responsible for its use. He must be held to remember what he is told in the way of command or direction; to remember it exactly, and to observe it accordingly. He must be held to remember the instruction given to him in oral form, as well as that gained from the book. So tenacious is Memory at this period that it easily seizes and retains mere words, although they make no appeal to the understanding. Here is the root of the most glaring evil in our school work, especially with careless and ill-trained teachers. Mere words are caught and repeated by the pupils; and they are glibly recited, giving an appearance of knowledge where none exists. Of course, this evil should be avoided, but the opposite extreme of requiring nothing to be committed in exact form is still worse.
Special exercises to train the memory are valuable; for instance, read a short, pithy sentence, and require the exact repetition of it, tell an interesting story, and have it reproduced exactly, the next day, etc. There is no need to give the child trash to commit, simply to train his memory. That power may be exercised on things worthy in themselves as well as in storing up nonsense. There is much in the child's lessons that should be committed exactly, such as definitions, tables, etc.

Many modern teachers are so impressed with the evil of committing simply the words of the text-book-- "mere memorizing"--that they have gone to the other extreme. Hence, in many schools, otherwise good, the Memory is neglected to such an extent that the pupils can not give what they know in exact language, nor have they power to fix exactly what they strive to remember.

Because of the facility with which mere words are retained at this time, it is not unphilosophical to require the pupil to commit to memory some useful things which he does not fully understand. The recent movement in favor of memorizing literary "gems" is worthy of all commendation. Nor need they be fully understood at present. Who can not recall something of this kind, dropped into his memory in his childhood, that afterwards became the most profitable subject of rumination?

It is a curious fact that certain defects sometimes become objects of personal vanity, such as a pale skin, defective eyesight requiring spectacles, etc. It is thought by silly young people to be fashionable, and an evidence of "high-tone," to have these defects. On this ground we account for the readiness with which many people declare that they are deficient in the power of memory. Certain it is that no one possesses a really good mind if his memory is very defective. When students have come to the author pleading complacently this defect as a reason for failing to retain their lessons, he has sometimes effectually cut off a repetition of the excuse by fully accepting it, suggesting perhaps that he had long suspected that their minds were not quite sound!

Imagination

.-- During the early years of a child's life, no power is more active that Imagination. As Dr. Rosenkranz says: "The child turns his perceptions into conceptions, and plays with them." He bestrides a stick, and it becomes a prancing horse; he ties together three or four chairs, and they are a train of cars. The little girl collects a few broken bits of crockery, and they are a China tea-set; she ties up a bundle of rags, and it is a baby. Two or three children come together, and they must "play bear," or "play horse," or "play school," etc. In the child's vocabulary, "play" means to exercise the Imagination.
Now, shall we, like some unwise parents and teachers, reprove children for these things, and exhort them to be sensible? We may be sure that nature makes no mistake in this, any more than in other exhibitions of child-life.
By entering into, and sympathizing with, the child's ideal life, the teacher or parent may do much, not only for the child's amusement, but he also may make this a valuable means of instruction and training; besides, in this way, he may learn more of the child's inner nature than in almost any other, and do much to establish those bonds of feeling between the child and himself,--so necessary to his highest success as the child's guide and instructor.

That prince of writers for children, and for instructors of children, Dr. Jacob Abbott, in his admirable work, "Gentle Measures in the Management of the Young," has an excellent chapter on the Imagination, which every mother and teacher ought carefully to study. On pages 108 and 114 of the same book will be found very interesting illustrations of the way in which the same faculty may be used in the moral and practical training of children.

Education has for its aim to lead the child up to true freedom,-- to a free and right use of his own self-determination, --to such a wise use of his will as shall control circumstances to his own advantage. In the early use of his imagination is found a most important training in this respect. Here, he is at liberty to arrange and apply things he chooses, untrammeled by the conditions of stern reality. This freedom of will constitutes the principle charm of such "play." Here, doubtless, we find an explanation for curious facts which every careful observer of children must have noticed.

If a little girl has several dolls,--a fine China one, an ordinarily good one, and a poor, dirty, mutilated "rag baby,"--she will probably prize the last most highly of all. The reason is, that she can do whatever she pleases with this one. If a boy has a present of a jumping-jack and a ball, he will at first be much more interested in the funny toy. But soon his interest in the jumping-jack will die out, while the ball will grow more precious every day.

But the highest use of Imagination, for child or man, is found in the fact that it alone gives an ideal of excellence in what one is to do or to be; without such an ideal, progress is hardly conceivable.
The Reflective Powers.--We will spend little time in speaking of the Reflective Powers, Reasoning, etc.; not because these are not important, but because early youth is no time to attempt an extensive training in these powers. To be sure, even a little child has some tendency and ability to draw inferences, to study the relations of cause and effect, and such efforts may be encouraged and directed to a limited extent. But a common mistake is to endeavor to train the reflective power before its time, and to neglect other powers that are in a stage of development which calls for the teacher's best efforts.
The Sensibility.--Passing to the training of the Sensibility, we say that the teacher's success or failure in the most valuable part of his work will be largely determined by his power or weakness in this field. It is through the Sensibility that motives to action are furnished, and character is formed. Even the highest intellectual success is impossible, unless the Emotions are enlisted in behalf of the work attempted. No child is likely to make much progress in a study which he thoroughly dislikes, especially if he dislike his teacher at the same time. Even the mature man finds his intellect will work with redoubled power and success when the glow of emotion accompanies its action.
LOVE.--The child's love for good things, for his fellows, and for his teacher, must be carefully trained and strengthened. Here is a worthy field for the power of the teacher with the wisest head and noblest heart. But it is no place for pretense or sham; all work here must be genuine. If you wish to awaken the child's love for yourself, expect it only in return for genuine love for him. Stage smiles and honeyed words, with no heart back of them, will no serve. It is easier to deceive a grown person than a child in this respect. In the old poem, the child says:
"I do not love thee, Doctor Fell;
The reason why I cannot tell."
No doubt, there was a good reason which the child felt, although she could not tell it. And we suspect that an equally good reason generally exists for the child's personal likes and dislikes.
But, perhaps, some teacher is ready to say, "Well, it is of no use; I never did love children, and I can not,--at least, I can not love uninteresting and disagreeable children." Then, we say, you ought to do one of two things: either set about acquiring this power at once, or forever forego any attempt to teach children. One of the surest ways to develop a love for any person or thing is to make that person or thing the object of your special care, interest, and effort. If persistence in such a course will not beget a love for its object, we think the case is hopeless.
HATE.--But the child's capacity to hate or dislike needs special attention, as well as its opposite. We remember with what earnestness and effect an old associate of ours used to say to his pupils: "Boys, hate mean things." That they have not been trained to hate mean things is the trouble of to-day with too many of our boys, and girls as well. But the child should be carefully shown that the hatred of mean things must not be allowed to pass over into a hatred of the persons who do them. We fear it will often be found that many who declaim loudly against wrong, after all feel more bitter toward those who do the wrong than they do towards the wrong done. The child should be taught that hatred towards persons is never right.
APPETITES AND DESIRES.--Little ever needs to be done to strengthen the appetites and desires of the child. But no part of his education needs more earnest care than that by which he gains the power to regulate them. And here the skillful teacher can do much, in ways that love and tact will indicate, to train the pupil so that his appetites and desires and desires may be used to minister to his well-being and to his innocent gratification, instead of leading him down to the level of the brute, or below it.
ADMIRATION.--The child's power of admiration, and his tendency to admire, demand careful attention. Owing to the activity of imagination in children, the persons that seem to them admirable are esteemed to be perfect. Children are born hero-worshippers. And the things that they admire are likely to be thought "altogether lovely." There is a psychological reason why, in the vocabulary of young persons, "splendid" and "horrid" exhaust the list of descriptive adjectives so often. Now, because admiration always contains the element of approval, it is easy to see that one's character is likely to be indicated by the persons and things he admires; not only is his present character indicated in this way, but his future character is largely determined as well. In the admiration that boys conceive for the characters depicted in the robbers and Indian killers of the wretched "dime" literature of the day, lies the chief danger of the poisonous stuff. And the young girl's admiration of the vain, vapid character of the heroine in the trashy novel she reads, is likely to work lasting injury to her, for the same reason. There is little danger threatening the character of any young person whose admiration is thoroughly fixed on such things only as are "pure, honest, lovely, and of good report."
REVERENCE.--There is special need in this country, and in this age, that the Reverence of children should be trained. In the abounding life and freedom of this new country, we seem to forget, to a great extent, that there is any thing to be treated with reverence and respect. And it is a serious question whether this tendency is not on the increase. Much of the flippant nonsense in our newspapers that passes for wit would lose all its point if the irreverence were taken out of it. And the children and youth are not slow to imitate the example of their elders. The "old man," or the "governor," is the boy's frequent appellation for his father, nor does the "old woman" signify the mother much less frequently. Similar disrespectful terms are ready to apply to men and women who, by age, or character, or position, should be treated with special respect.
The reverent attitude of mind or speech, toward God or man, seems to be very unpopular just now. This fact does not augur well for the future, and the best efforts of our schools should be turned to its correction.

We remember when our teacher, in the old country school in New England, used to teach us to meet her with a respectful "good morning," and to leave her with a gentle "good night." She also taught us to stand by the road-side and lift our hats when we met travelers. It is possible we might return to some old-fashioned ways with profit. It is often said that we must put into our schools whatever we desire to have in the thinking and in the behavior of our people. Is this not true? And if this is so, must we not look to our schools to train their pupils in reverence and respect if we would see less of the roughness, vulgarity, and rowdyism that now disgrace us as a people, and make thoughtful men fear for the future?

CHAPTER VIII.

TRAINING.---Concluded .

WE will close our discussion of the training of the child's powers by saying something about the training of the Conscience, the Will, and the powers of Attention and Conception. Let the reader first turn back to Chapter IV, and study carefully the definitions of these powers.
The Conscience.--Conscience makes us feel that we ought to do what we think is right, and to let alone what we think is wrong. How shall this feeling be cultivated and made stronger? In the same way as every other power is cultivated and strengthened,-- by use. Every time that the voice of conscience is heard and heeded, it gains strength to speak with more clearness the next time. Every time it is disregarded, it is shorn of some of its power; this may be continued until conscience will sleep quietly while one does things that would once have caused the keenest anguish. Thus, conscience becomes "seared as with a hot iron." It withers and decays like an unused muscle. And yet, sometimes, after a long slumber, it wakes up with a fearful power, and stings like a scorpion---this is remorse.
Let the parent and teacher make frequent appeals to the child's conscience,--press upon him the word ought in all the fullness of its meaning. If there is any doubt as to whether one ought, or ought not, to do a certain thing, the only safe way is to give conscience "the benefit of the doubt." No child is too young for such an appeal, for conscience begins its work almost as soon as the earliest perceptive powers. "Is it right?" "Then ought you to do it?" These are questions that the youngest will appreciate, and it is sad that such questions so often give place to mere appeals to expediency, or self-interest, or pride. In view of this fact, it is not strange that so few grown persons are able to stand boldly for what they believe to be right, even if they have to stand alone. How can the moral fiber be otherwise than flabby if it has never been strengthened?

There has been much discussion of the question, whether it is always right to follow conscience. The case seems to be a very plain one. We can not conceive that one could be justified in violating his conscience,--in doing what he believes to be wrong. And yet it must be granted that, owing to a wrong judgment, conscience may prompt to an act wrong it itself. Where, then, is the responsibility? Can one be blamed for doing such an act? Surely, he can not be blamed for following his conscience; but if his wrong judgment is due to any fault of his, then he is to be blamed for thinking that wrong is right.

Moral Training.--If morality is any thing more than refined self-interest, then the cultivation of conscience must lie at the basis of all right moral training. The psychological elements of morality are four in number, viz.: the intuitive idea, that there is such a thing as right; the judgment, which determines whether any particular thing is right; conscience, that moves us towards the right; and the will, that chooses or refuses the right. All true moral training must have regard to all these; it must recognize the underlying idea; it must train the judgment; it must appeal to conscience; and it must lead the will to the proper choice.
That such moral training should receive much attention is school can not be question; character is more than intellectual power or acquisition. That such training is too much neglected is lamentably true. But, perhaps, it is not very easy to tell how such training should be given. We may say, negatively, that merely reading books on morals, even the Bible itself, will not give it; nor will the teaching of a religious creed, even the soundest; nor will a discussion of moral questions, nor long lectures on morals, nor any amount of namby-pamby, goodish exhortation. It must be genuine training as the term has already been defined. Generally, such training will not follow any set lessons in morals. It must be brought about by putting conscience into all that is done; and the teacher who would succeed in doing this with his pupils must be a living example before their eyes.

Moral lessons may be drawn incidentally from the lessons in reading or history; sometimes, a story may be told, or any case supposed, for which a moral lesson may be taught effectively. Gow's "Good Morals and Gentle Manners" is a book that may be of much service to the teacher in such work.

Let specific lessons be given, not according to the programme, but as occasion for them arises. Has the teacher discovered that his boys play marbles for "keeps?" Here is a call for such a lesson. Let him take the winner, at some quiet and convenient time, and ply him with questions something like the following, after the manner of old Socrates: Whose are those fine marbles? Whose were they? Did John care anything for them? What did you give him for them? What made you play with him for them? Was not the reason because you wanted to get what John owned and cared for, without giving him anything of value for it? Is this the reason why gamblers play their games? Is it the thing that makes men steal? That makes them cheat? That makes them commit murder sometimes? How much dishonesty would there be in the world if no one ever had such a wish as this? Then, can this be right?
We think such an appeal, if skillfully and kindly made, could hardly fail to convince the judgment and to move the conscience. In a similar way, other principles of morality should be treated, as occasion calls for the treatment.

The Will

.--A man with a weak will is a pitiable object. It is the will that gives one his moving force; that makes him a power rather than a mere helpless thing. One who lacks will power is like a log floating at the mercy of the current; while one with a strong will is like a steamboat, that can not only stem the current, but can make headway against it. There is no danger that one will have too much will, if only it is joined with right motives and sound judgment. The man of strong will is not necessarily willful in the bad use of the word. A man of strong will need not be mulish.
There has been much discussion of the question whether a child's "will should be broken?" The answer turns wholly upon what is meant by "breaking" the will. If by this is meant simply that the child must be taught to bend his will to rightful authority, then it is one of the first lessons to be learned; it is an act of the greatest kindness to the child to break his will in this sense. But if, by breaking the will, we mean to destroy its power, or to diminish it, then it is a heinous crime to do it. Fir, one with his will broken, in this sense, is like a watch with the mainspring broken. Instead of this, special effort should be made to strengthen the child's will power. Use all reasonable means to lead him to cease saying "I can't," and to cultivate the habit of saying "I can" and "I will." Of course, he should be taught to judge rightly as to whether a thing ought to be done before he says, "I will do it." Even kindly ridicule or gentle sarcasm may be used with good effect here, and sometimes resort may well be had to something a little more vigorous.

We remember when a certain teacher sent a young woman to the blackboard, and she, after a feeble effort, whimpered out, "I don't think I can do it." "You can," thundered the teacher, with a stamp of his foot. She hastily snatched a tear from the corner of each eye, and did the work. We believe that discipline was a "means of grace" to that young woman.

But, in addition to direct efforts to strengthen the child's will, we want to say very earnestly that neither parents nor teacher should thwart his will, except with good reason. Many a will has been weakened, if not wholly destroyed, because his teacher or parent, thoughtlessly or wantonly, has trampled on his wishes and desires and purposes until sullenness or despair has resulted.

Attention

must accompany every successful mental effort. There are two ways in which the man may be led to give attention: one is by attracting it, so that he attends without effort; the other, by inducing him to attend through sheer force of his will power. The attention of the child can be gained in the first way only. It can be attracted and held for a short time only; but this will is not strong enough to enable him to attend against his inclination, nor after he has become weary. And yet he must attend, if he is to do any thing to any purpose. Nor can his attention be secured by frequent calls for attention, nor even by authority. It must be attracted at first, and its object must be changed frequently. It is a gradual process, by which he gets the power to command his attention, and this power must be gained by a judicious course of training.
To secure this training, let the teacher be careful to make no statement to the child, make no explanation, lay not command, etc., until he knows in his own mind, with perfect clearness, what he means to say; then let him say it slowly, clearly, in a few words, and say it but once. Then let him insist rigidly that what is thus given shall be remembered and observed.
Let the teacher form the habit of never speaking to his school, his class, or to a single pupil, until he has complete attention, and let him stop speaking the instant attention wanders. In this way, every thing that is done is school will be an exercise in training the attention; but, occasionally, special exercises for this purpose alone may be introduced. Let the teacher recite a sentence, to be repeated exactly; let him give directions for certain movements to be made, and then require an exact performance, etc. By such processes, and others that a thoughtful and ingenious teacher will discover, the child is trained until his attention will obey his will promptly, fully, and successfully. When this is done, he is on the high road to the attainment of both knowledge and power.
Conception.--A bright mind is one whose Conceptive Power is clear and strong. Dullness results from lack of this power. "Parrot" recitations are of words without the accompanying conceptions. Mechanical reading is calling over words, in this way, from a book. Mechanical, meaningless mathematical work is the blind following of rules while the conceptive power is asleep. Much of our school work, we are sorry to say, is performed in such a way as to put this power to sleep; and the more we work with tongue, or pen, or hand while conception sleeps, the more soundly it will sleep while we thus work. This is the process by which many little children, who entered school bright, keen, and inquisitive, are made dull and stupid after going a few months. We believe comparatively few teachers understand the relative importance of this power, or how to arouse and train it.
A really "lively" school exercise of any kind is not to be measured by the noise made, nor by the amount of manual activity, but by the fullness and clearness of the conceptive power used. No reading by older or younger pupils will be correct, --except, perhaps, with the correctness of mechanical imitation,--until conception gives life to the words spoken. No geography lesson is worth any thing that does not fill the mind with correct and lively pictures. No mathematical work is any thing but a mechanical "grind" till the pupil "sees" the relation of the parts with his "mind's eye."
Imagination, as we have already defined the term, is the exercise of the conceptive power in one of its forms; hence, the pedagogic value of a judicious use of the imagination. But the conceptive power has its part to play in understanding and reasoning, as well as in memory and imagination. All our school work, from the lowest grade to the highest, should recognize this fact, and the true use of the power of conception should be observed in every school exercise.

We have been able to give only a few hints in regard to the training of the powers, but the thoughtful teacher will readily see that this training in his great work--it alone treats the mind like a living organism; while a mere acquiring of knowledge, a storing of the memory, treats it like a dead receptacle.

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1. Physical

KINDS OF EDUCATION, ............ 2. Intellectual
3. Moral.
4. Spiritual?

Kinds of Education.--We have now completed what we have to say directly about training the mental powers. We have also tried to show what education really is. We often speak of different kinds of education. Education is divided into kinds or sorts, according to two different ideas. If we consider it in relation to its end, or purpose, we have two sorts; viz., General and Special. These were defined and explained in Chapter V. If we consider the different powers to be educated, we have Physical, Intellectual, Moral, and perhaps Spiritual education.
Of course, physical education has to do with the powers of the body; its aim is to produce health, strength, and dexterity.
Intellectual education has to do with those powers by which we know; its purpose is to give skill and certainty in acquiring facts, in remembering them, and in discovering their true significance and relation.
Moral education has to do with the training of those powers by which we come to know the right, to love it, and to choose and follow it. We have already discussed this at some length.
Spiritual education, if there be such as distinct from moral education, means the growth and cultivation of the divine life begun in the human soul by the renewing effect of a Divine Power: it is what the minister calls "growth in grace."
In all these forms of education, the general method is the same; viz., By the wise use of the powers involved, to induce desired habits .
PHYSICAL EDUCATION.-- Intellectual education is, without doubt, the main purpose of our schools, but it should not be the only purpose, as many seem to suppose. Both physical and moral education should receive careful attention in all our schools. The pupil should be taught to sue his body rightly in sitting, standing, walking, etc. The body is the mind's instrument and servant; through it alone can the mind be acted upon from without, and at the same time it is the only medium through which the mind can manifest itself. For this reason, it is very important that the body should be so trained that it may serve the mind efficiently and faithfully; hence, the importance of physical culture. But it is well to remember always that physical strength and dexterity are to be sought as means to an end,--not as an end in themselves. When physical training is made an end in itself, as in the case of the professional athlete, prize-fighter, etc., it not only is a very unworthy end, but it seems to defeat its own purpose. Very few prize-fighters, gymnasts, or oarsmen retain vigorous health till old age; in truth, few of the reach old age.

Education certain

.-- Before turning to another subject, we wish to say that an education of some kind is inevitable--we must be educated. "Education is cultured growth,"--if the child lives, his powers will grow, and their growth will be modified by the influences that surround him. Hence, there is no escape from education but by death or insanity. So, the choice is not between a good education and no education, but between a good education and a bad one. If the child's growing powers are not trained as they should be at home, at school, at church, etc., they will be sure to be trained as they should not be, elsewhere. Not all our schools are in school-houses, under teachers licensed by the superintendents and paid by public funds. There are schools in the streets, on dry goods boxes, in saloons, and in worse places. They are well supplied with teachers; they have no vacations; and they send their graduates out by swarms. Some of these graduates tax the state much more heavily to pay for courts, and prisons, and poor houses than they would to have provided them with the best possible education at the public expense.

Any thoughtful person who walks the crowded streets, in the more degraded portions of our large cities, must have some very important questions thrust upon him. As he observes the swarming multitudes of little children, unclean and unkempt, too young to attend the public schools, he must ask himself if it would not be cheaper to care for these unfortunates while they are children than to attempt to restrain and punish them when they are fully developed into the hardened criminals that so many of them are sure to become. Would it not cost less money to make the attempt to form them rightly than it will to reform them, or to punish them when they have received the education that all their present surroundings tend to give them?
Acting on this thought, one of the wisest schemes of modern private philanthropy is the establishment of kindergartens for these neglected waifs. But would it not be wise economy for the public to bear the expense of kindergartens for this purpose from the public funds? This question demands public attention and discussion. We have no doubt about the true answer.

The resources of a state are not confined to its mineral wealth, its fertile soil, its navigable waters, etc. The mental and moral power of its rising generation outweighs them all; if educated and directed rightly, it will do more to advance the state in every kind of prosperity, material wealth included. But, if badly educated, it is not simply so much power and wealth lost, but it becomes a negative quantity,--a power for evil and waste. If this is true, it is hard to see why the state is not bound to spend all necessary sums for any and all appliances which shall tend to educate the powers of its youth rightly; quite as much, to say the least, as it is bound to foster mining, agriculture, commerce, and other things that tend directly to develop its material resources.

Here is the strongest argument for high schools and colleges which shall offer the fullest education of all, at the public cost. Among the lowly and the poor is to be found, in the germ, some of the best directive ability in the state. The state can not afford to lose this ability simply because private purses can not provide the means for its development. The richest products of any state, estimated even on a pecuniary basis alone, are its best men and women. It is time that we had done with that narrow view which sees it public education only the means of fitting the young for some imaginary "sphere," or the mere preparing of the future citizen to cast his ballot with out danger to the commonwealth.

CHAPTER IX.

THE TEACHER.

THE most important factor in any school, or system of education, is the teacher who directs its daily operations. If he be able, well-trained, and efficient, good results may be confidently expected, even though much be wanting. But, if the teacher be seriously deficient, nothing can supply the lack. People seem to forget this truth sometimes, and to think that if the buildings be grand and good, if the apparatus be abundant, if the system be the best, the result may be satisfactory, let the teacher be what he may. A moment's reflection ought to show the unwisdom of any such expectation.

His motives

.--Let us, then, consider some of the things belonging to a good teacher. And we will begin by asking, What are proper motives to prompt him to take up this work? We will mention three: a desire to do good, a love for the work, and money.
A DESIRE TO DO GOOD.--One who has no desire to do good, who cares not whether he does any thing to the benefit of the world, is not likely to be worth much in any calling; certainly he is not fit to teach the young. One who does faithfully any work that the world needs does good and deserves honor. But there are few occupations in which one can do more to bless his fellows than in wisely developing and training the powers of the rising generation. And if one believes himself able to do such work successfully, the wish to serve the world is this way is a noble motive to prompt him to undertake the work.
LOVE FOR THE WORK.--One will do any work better if he loves to do it; but there are some kinds of coarse, physical labor, like digging ditches, etc., that we suppose one might do well even if he disliked them. This is not true of the higher kinds of work, and certainly it is not true of teaching. We do not mean, of course, that a teacher must love every thing connected with his work. All work has drudgery, and teaching is no exception. But the teacher should have such a genuine love for his work as a whole that it will enable him to bear the drudgery, and to do it faithfully, without being enslaved by it.
PAY.--We shall find people who are ready to declare that the two motives named are enough, and that it is degrading to let the thought of money have any weight. On the other hand, we shall find those who sneer at these motives, and avow boldly that they care nothing for ideals or sentiment,--they are practical, and money is the only motive that should have any weight. Now, the truth is with neither extreme. We should cherish our ideals, if they are noble; in no other way can we avoid falling into sordidness. But there are good and honorable reasons why a teacher may regard his pecuniary compensation as a proper motive, and insist that it shall be reasonable in amount.
First .--The teacher has wants which he can not honestly supply, as a general thing, unless he receive money for his work. Few can afford to work for nothing, even if so disposed.
Second .--Justice requires that he should receive pay for his work: the world is so constituted that those who give ought to receive.
Third .--People do not prize highly that which costs them nothing. Even our bountiful Creator has arranged it so that his gifts mostly come in response to our efforts. If the farmer expect a crop, he must toil for it. If the student desire knowledge and culture, he must put forth his efforts, or his desires are futile. Sunlight, air, and in some places, water are about the only gifts bestowed upon us without some sort of expenditure on our part. And it is better so; it is more truly charitable to help the pauper to help himself than it is to bestow a gift upon him. It is neither just, benevolent, nor wise to give good things to those who can pay for them but will not . Hence, the good teacher is right when he demands that the community which receives his services shall pay for them a fair compensation. If there is a community needing his services which is too poor pay for them, and he is able to teach without pay, he may be justified in working for nothing, or for an unreasonably small sum, but not otherwise. However, if he has agreed to work for small pay, or for nothing, he ought then to do his best: the smallness of his pay is not good excuse for poor work.
HOW ESTIMATED?--It is no easy matter to estimate the money value of a good teacher's services. Some one has said that the world's work may be divided into two kinds: viz., job-work and professional work. The first is work that has to do with material things only; its value is easily computed; and as its benefit can be exactly measured in money, so can its compensation. But professional work has to do with things that can not be measured in money. Who can tell the value of the physician's services when he saves the life of a friend, or of a minister's if he lead one up to a higher moral and religious plane of life, or of the artist's when he cultivates and gratifies our aesthetic nature? If such work be good, money can not measure it; if it be poor, it is worthless, or worse. The work of the true teacher must be classed as professional work. No one can tell just how many dollars a month will be an equivalent for it. How, then, shall we determine how much money such a teacher should receive?
AMOUNT.--We answer, he should receive enough to serve three purposes; viz., First, to provide for the wants of himself and his family, if he has one,--and he ought to have one in due time; Second, to provide means of improvement by books, travel, etc.; Third, to enable him to lay by a reasonable sum for sickness and old age. It seems clear that a good teacher's services should command so much; and, if we may speak for the fraternity of teachers, we should say, This is enough. We would not have teaching become so remunerative that people would rush into the business merely because it might be an easy way to get rich. We think, however, the danger in this direction is not very serious at present.
PENSIONS.--In some European countries, they obviate the necessity of the third requirement we have mentioned by giving pensions to superannuated teachers; and the same thing has been proposed in some of our States. We disapprove of such a thing most heartily. In the first place, it is not just: one of two things is true; either the teacher has earned his pension or he has not. If he has earned it, he should have had it all the time; if he has not earned it, he should never have it. But the most serious objection is that such a course take the teacher out of the conditions of ordinary men. Nothing can be worse for him. One of the worst tendencies of his profession is to withdraw himself from the pursuits and responsibilities of men in general. Nothing should be done to increase that tendency. Let his circumstances be made as nearly like those of other men as possible, and then let him meet all of a man's responsibilities. If he meet with misfortune, let him receive gifts just as any one else would do; but give him a fair compensation; and then, if he squander it, let him suffer, as others do.

Preparation

.--One of the most disheartening things connected with our public schools is the lack of fitness on the part of the teachers. A large proportion of them--perhaps a majority--have made less preparation for their delicate and difficult work than they would have made for the most ordinary trade. And this state of things exists because the community permit it to exist. Men will not take a piece of old harness, to be mended, to any one who has not learned the harness-maker's trade, nor order a pair of shoes made except by a skilled workman. Yet, these same men will send their children to be taught by some green boy or girl who has never spent one half-hour in special preparation for the work. This is a mystery that can be explained only by supposing that such people do not realize the fact that preparation for teaching needs to be made and can be made.

Teachers sometimes judge parents very unjustly. We have heard it said that parents must love their calves better than they love their children, for they will visit their calves every day, but they will not go to the school where their children are taught during a whole term. This is fallacious; the parent does not regard it so needful to visit the school as it is to care for his calves. Nor does he see how necessary it is for the teacher to be prepared for his work, else he would insist upon it. It may be safely assumed that almost all parents--even the ignorant and vicious--desire the best things for their children, but often they do not know what the best things are.

Of course, we are now speaking of the preparation for the teacher's work, which should be made before taking charge of a school. It often happens that, if one has some native gift for teaching, he may enter upon his work without any preparation; and yet, at the end of a few terms spent in the school-room, he may be found a skilled workman. Probably he might acquire the kill of a blacksmith in a similar way; but the waste of iron and coal that would attend his apprentice efforts would be a sufficient barrier in that case. What a pity that the waste of a child's powers and time can not be estimated as easily as the waste of minerals! Every one has heard of the reply of the celebrated French oculist, when some one complimented his skill in operating on the eye: "Yes," said he, "I may have some skill now, but I spoiled a hateful of eyes in learning."

Normal schools are intended specially for the preparing of teachers for their business; and this should be their sole purpose,--academic work, as such, is foreign to their true aim. There can be no question, other things being equal, that any one will make a better teacher by attending even a tolerably good Normal school. Still, it does not follow that such a school is the only place where the preparation can be made. Multitudes of excellent teachers have never attended a Normal school. Nor can the best Normal school make a first-rate teacher out of every one who enters it. But what we assert, most earnestly and confidently, is that, somewhere and somehow, by thought, reading, instruction, observation, or all combined, the teacher should be required to make reasonable preparation for his work before he is permitted to enter upon it.

WHAT PREPARATION?--There are three distinct fields in which preparation should be made.
First .--The candidate for the teacher's office should become well acquainted with the nature of children. He should understand their physical nature, it laws, needs, and possibilities. He should understand the laws of mind, both in its action and in its growth. He should understand the springs and movements of the human being which result in a good moral character or its opposite. In short, he should become versed in a knowledge of what we call "human nature" in it broadest sense. But, besides a general knowledge of human nature, he needs to be specially acquainted with that complicated and mysterious thing in its plastic, formative, and growing stages, for it is the material on which he is to work. What would be said for the tailor ignorant of the nature and qualities of cloth? or of the nursery-man knowing nothing of the nature of plants or the mysteries of plant-life? We require even of a sewing girl that she should know something of the structure and operation of the machine she uses.
Second. --He should be well acquainted with the branches of knowledge that he is to teach. And here we must note that the teacher's knowledge of subjects ought to be of a special kind,--it must extend to underlying principles. One may know how to read very well, and still be ignorant of the principles on which good reading depends. One may be able to make all the computations necessary in the counting room, and have a "plentiful lack" of knowledge of the principles of arithmetic,--so similar remarks may be made about all the studies of the school; all need to be acquired by the teacher in a way quite different from that which is necessary simply for practical use. We assert that a teacher's knowledge should be of a special quality, whether its quantity be more or less; but, of course, in quantity it should much exceed what he is likely to be called upon to impart.
Third. --He should be prepared both in the principles and the methods of imparting knowledge, and in the principles and methods of governing and managing children no less. Unchanging and unchangeable principles underlie all correct teaching and management. These principles can be investigated and acquired; and a knowledge of them, when arranged systematically, constitutes the science of i