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(UmSemfg Jufonaf (J)re00 

(Unicenity Correspondence College Prett), 

\\- C 



THE essential purpose of every book on teaching must 
be to help teachers in their actual daily work. In this 
way only can it effectually assist them when they offer 
themselves for examination in that work. An answer to a 
question on the practice of teaching is valuable exactly in 
proportion as it shows that the writer has not only read 
about the subject, but has assimilated the principles laid 
down in his text-book and made them part of that living 
thought which finds expression in the daily work of the 
class-room. A competent examiner discriminates at once 
between such answers and those which are mere verbal 
reproductions of text-book methods which have never 
influenced the writer's practice. It is therefore hoped that 
tliis book may !>< of value to candidates for examination 
in the subject of which it treats by helping them to become 
better teachers. 

The treatment is meant to be theoretical in the sense 
of setting forth a consistent and co-ordinated body of 
doctriiu- Su.-li theory is, of course, involved in all true 
practice. No attempt has been made to set forth explicit 
directions how to carry out every small piece of teaching. 
'I'll.- mo.lrl fora \v..rk mi teadi ing should not be a book mi 
cookery, with its drtail'l recipes directing the reader how 
to produce l>v nil*- of Ihuinli certain specific results. After 
all, teaching is dealing \\ith souls, and only miml can 


really influence mind. The true and effective way to train 
the practical teacher is to imbue him with broad and 
fruitful principles ; and he becomes a real educative force 
just in the degree to which, having incorporated those 
principles in the living texture of his own thought, he 
brings them to bear on the living problems which every 
day in school sets him to solve in such vast numbers. But 
that the principles and methods here set forth are practical 
has been proved by the successful working of every one of 
them in school. 

At the same time I do not claim to have reflected here 
the ordinary practice of the average English school. To 
have done so would have furnished little of either stimulus 
or suggestion. I have set up an ideal, but it is a practic- 
able ideal. It is true that small and insufficiently staffed 
schools cannot attain the full scope of the application here 
suggested of the leading principles. If they could, the 
book would be of little service to the larger and better 
equipped schools. But the principles of curriculum and 
of method can be applied to small schools as well as to 
large ones, and it is the principles which are essential. 

The lists of recommended books have been deliberately 
kept short, and restricted to books known by the writers of 
the various chapters to be of real help to a teacher. 

Acting on the opinion more than once expressed in the 
book that a teacher cannot be really proficient in every 
subject, I have not attempted to write all the following 
chapters. I have sought the assistance of friends and 
former pupils whose views on education agree with my 
own, and who are more competent to treat their respective 
subjects than I can claim to be. The chapter on Music is 
written by Mr. E. T. White, Mus.Doc., Lecturer on the 
subject in the Goldsmiths' College; those on Geography 
and Mathematics by Mr. W. P. Welpton, B.Sc., Assistant 


Lecturer on Education in the University of Leeds ; that on 
Natural History by Mr. C. E. Moss, M.Sc., Lecturer on 
the subject at the Manchester Pupil Teachers' College; 
that on Needlework by Miss E. L. Melville, M.A., 
Assistant Mistress of Method in the University of 
Leeds. The chapter on Geography also owes much to Mr. 
A. Jowett, M.Sc,, Principal of the Pupil Teachers' College 
at Bury, and the sections on Handicraft to Mr. C. E. 
Staneliffe, Lecturer on the subject in the York Training 
College. But though the pens are different, the doctrine 
is one, and I accept as full responsibility for the chapters 
contributed by others as for those I have written myself. 

I must furt her express my obligations to my friends 
Dr. Fletcher, Vice-Principal of the Cambridge University 
Training College, for reading the proofs of all the 
earlier chapters, and Mr. B. Branford, Inspector of Secon- 
dary Schools under the London County Council, for reading 
those of the chapter on Mathematics. But above all, I 
owe a debt of gratitude to Mr. Welpton, whose suggestions 
and frith-isms have helped much in every part of the work. 

The last thirty years of the nineteenth century saw 
effort concentrated on supplying the material deficiencies 
in English schools. The few years which have already 
elapsed in the present century have been marked by a 
movement towards a wider curriculum and more effective 
methods of teaching. If this book the outcome of years 
<>t thought and of much experience in the work of school- 
room and training college helps that movement even to a 
small extent, the labour bestowed on it will be amply 







1. Recognised Importance of Education 1 

J. 1 Kmbt as to Function of Education ... ... ... ... 2 

3. Need to Resolve this Doubt 3 

1. Application of terra ' Education' ... ... 3 

.">. Aim of Education ... ... 4 

Knowledge and Practice 9 

Knowledge and Virtue ... ... ... ... ... 11 

6. Chief Agents of Education 13 

The Home 14 

The School 15 

Church 16 

7. Kduratinii and Life ... ... ... ... ... ... 1C 

s. Kducation and Teaching ... ... ... ... ... 17 

. ami Practice in Teaching ... ... ... ... 17 

H. Factors in Teaching 18 

11. Function of the Teacher 19 



I. IffMUinfol 'Value' i.M 

J. I:- -l.itive Valueeof Ed h.,.,1. and Tca<-hin^ ... 22 

f exaggerating Function* .f S. li..l an<l .f Teaching 23 

I. I. .1 Ivliu-ational Value ,,f In-tiu. ti-.n 24 




5. Evils of applying Imperfect Tests ... ... 25 

' Value as Discipline ' 26 

' Value as Knowledge ' 28 

These Values not Necessarily Connected 29 

6. General application of Test to School Work 30 

Material Utility and the Curriculum ... ... ... 32 

Examinations ... ... ... ... 32 

7. Special application of Test to different Types of Schools . . . 33 

Limitation of Treatment to the Primary School ... 3."> 

8. Determination of the Curriculum of the Primary School . . . 3.1 

English Language ... ... ... 3< 

Literature, History, and Social Geography 36 

The Natural World 37 

Mathematics ... 37 

Music, Drawing, etc. ... ... ... 37 

Handicraft 37 

Variations in Emphasis on Different Groups 38 

Influence of Tradition 39 

9. Utilisation of Special Knowledge of Teachers ... ... 40 

10. Arrangement of Matter of Instruction 42 

4 Concentration of Studies ' 42 

Natural Correlation of Knowledge 45 

1 1. Construction of the Time Table 46 



1. Test of the Value of Teaching 48 

Perceptual Activity 48 

Conceptual Activity 49 

Perseverance ... ... ... 51 

2. Characteristics of Good Method ... ... 52 

Purpose 53 

Economy of Effort 54 

Prompt Beginning ... ... ... ... ... 55 

Orderly Process 57 

Stimulation of Learning ... 58 

Effective Result 60 



3. Maxims of Method 62 

Proceed from the Known to the Unknown 62 

Proceed from the Easy to the More Difficult 62 

Proceed from the Concrete to the Abstract ... ... 63 

Proceed from the Empirical to the Rational 63 

Proceed from the Simple to the Complex ... ... 64 

Proceed from the Indefinite to the Definite 66 

The Development of the Child is Parallel to that of the 

Race 66 

4. Psychological Basis of Method ... 67 

5. The Herbartian Formal Steps of Method 69 

6. Chief Classes of Lessons 72 

7. Lessons which aim at increasing Range of Knowledge ... 73 

Steps of Method 74 

i. Adjustment of Attention 74 

ii. Assimilation of New Matter 75 

iii. Organisation of Knowledge ... 75 

Modes of Learning and Teaching 76 

Direct Study of Things and Events 76 

Oral Teaching 80 

Learning from Books ... ... 82 

8. Lessons which aim at increasing Depth of Knowledge ... 80 

Steps of Method 86 

i. Apprehension of Problem ... 87 

ii. Suggestion and Testing of Solutions 87 

iii. Formulation of Theory ... 88 

iv. Application of Theory 90 

Absence of Rigidity in Method 90 

Use of these Methods 90 

Modes of Learning and Teaching ... ... 91 

Questioning ... ... ... 91 

Experimenting ... ... ... ... ... 92 

The Essence of Heuristic Methods 94 

9. Lessons which aim at Applying Knowledge 94 

1 in of Method 95 

; iiuiliition nf Principle ... ... ... 95 

ii. I-'"! in "t Application ... ... ... ... 96 

iii. Verification 96 

Mode* of Learning and Teaching 96. 



10. Lessons which aim at developing Constructive and Execu- 

tive Power ... ... ... ... ... ... 97 

Steps of Method 98 

i. Analysis of Result to be Attained 98 

ii. Expression and Criticism ... 98 

Modes of Learning and Teaching 99 

11. Summary 100 



1. Functions of Language Teaching 101 

Language as an Instrument of Thought ... ... ... 101 

Language as an Instrument of Common Intellectual Life 102 

Reasons for Teaching the Mother Tongue ... ... 102 

Increased Mastery over Language 103 

Cultivation of Interest in Literature 104 

2. Foundations of Language Teaching ... 105 

3. Language Teaching in the Infant School ... ... ... 106 

Increase of Power of Speech ... 10G 

Improvement of Utterance... ... 109 

Introduction to Literature ... Ill 

4. The early Teaching of Reading and Writing 112 

Method- of Teaching 113 

The 'Letter' Methods 114 

The ' Alphabetic ' Method 114 

Phonetic Methods 115 

Place of Phonic Analysis 117 

Summary ... 118 



1. The General Work of the Senior School 120 

2. Reading to Pupils by Teacher 121 

3. The Essence of Reading 122 

Reading Aloud 122 



4. Reading as Elocution 123 

."). Principles of Method in Teaching Reading 125 

i. With Younger Children 125 

Vocal Drill 126 

Silent Reading ' l-<> 

Reading Aloud ... ... ... ... ... 126 

Correcting Mistakes 126 

Cultivating K\i>n-ssion ... ... ... ... 127 

ii. With Elder Classes 128 

Phrasing 129 

Kmphasis 129 

Modulation ... ... ... ... ... ... 130 

The Reading of Poetry 131 

Amount of Practice 133 

Reading to Hearers without Books 134 

Matter suited for Reading Aloud 134 

6. Reading Books 13' 

School and Class Libraries .., 138 



1 . learning by Heart and Recitation 1 .'59 

ice of Passages 139 

M -t hod of Learning ... ... ... ... ... ... 11"' 

J. I: i idy of Content and Form of Literature ... 14.S 

niplr from Tennyson'* Itlyll* nf the Khuj M" 

ral Apprehension of Whole ... ... ... ... M' 

-tudy 1">1 

Tliii-; !""> 

\. Passages of a predominant h Intellectual Character ... !."><; 

:n|)l<- from liacctn <>n Hichra ... ... ... ... 1-">I> 

lljilf fl'i.iu Biinill <il) Stll'lif* ... ... ... ... 1">7 

:il|il- fr.Hi StrvriiSMii's Crnl>l>"f . \ .'/' "//'/ Yoitfll ... 1.">S 

Otli.-rSuitublc Material I'-'-' 

6. Literature as illu -ul.j.-.-t> 1'i- 





1. Language as a Means of Expression 164 

2. Writing 165 

Method of Teaching 165 

Setting of Models 165 

Holding the Pencil 166 

Position of Body 166 

Guiding Lines 166 

Formation of Letters ... 167 

Analysis of Forms of Letters 167 

Correction of Faults ... 167 

Transcription 167 

Use of Pen and Ink 168 

Use of Copy-Books 168 

Practice in Real Writing 169 

Rapid Writing without Lines 169 

3. Spelling 170 

Method of Teaching 170 

Transcription 171 

Dictation 171 

Oral Spelling 172 

Word Building 172 

Use of a Dictionary ... ... 173 

4. Function of Composition ... ... ... 173 

5. Need for Specific Training in Expression ... ... ... 175 

6. Oral and Written Expression 175 

7. Special Lessons in Language ... ... ... 176 

Early Lessons... ... 176 

The Paragraph 177 

Use of an Outline 178 

Individual and Imaginative Exercises ... ... ... 179 

8. Influence of Reading on Expression ... ... ... ... 180 

9. Correction of Exercises in Composition ... ... ... 180 

10. Function of Grammar ... ... ... ... ... ... 181 

11. Principles of Teaching Grammar 184 





1. Summary of Principles 185 

2. Outline Course of Study 187 

Books Recommended ... ... ... ... ... 191 


Till: TK.YtlllNt; OF MUSIC. 

1. Function of Music Teaching ... ... ... ... ... 193 

- i >bjects of the Study of Music in Schools 1 ! M 

- hool Choirs 196 

4. School Orchestras 196 

5. School Songs 197 

- ugiug by Ear 199 

7. I 'art Singing 201 

ir Training 202 

'.'. Voice Training 203 

Inhalation 204 

Exhalation 204 

Posture of Body 204 

Quality of Tone 205 

in. \V.nU in Singing 208 

11. Heading from Musical Notes 209 

isical Notation 209 

Difficulties of Notation -Jlo 

nducting -JI1 

lY-aching from Notes 212 

11. Conduct of the Music Lesson -JI-J 

^ite to Concerts 213 

i.ooi Course in Music 213 

First Year 213 

SeoondYear 215 

Third Year 216 

11 ... 216 

h Y.MP 217 


Seventh Year Jl' 

Books Recommended .\) 





1. State of History Teaching in England 221 

2. Equipment of the Teacher 221 

3. Function of the Study of History 225 

4. Place of History in the Primary School 230 

5. Preparatory Course ... ... 231 

Guiding Principles of Selection 231 

An Outline Course 233 

Form of Teaching 236 

6. Selection of Matter in History ... 237 

Scope 237 

Elementary Knowledge ... ... 240 

Interest 240 

Facts and Ideas 241 

Unity of Course 243 

7. Content of Course 243 

Divisions ... ... ... 244 

Greece 245 

Rome 247 

Transition to the Middle Ages 250 

The Middle Ages _>.-,] 

Transition to the Modern World 256 

First Modern Period : The Balance of Power 258 

Second Modern Period : Ideas 263 

8. Form of Teaching 266 

The Text-book 267 

Oral Teaching 268 

Illustrations ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 269 

Visits to Objects of Historic Interest ... ... ... 270 

Supplementary Reading ... ... ... 272 

Note Books 273 

Connection with Geography ... 274 

Time Required 274 

Conclusion ... ... 274 

Books Recommended ... ... ... 275 





1. Function of Geography... ... ... ... 278 

J. Relations with Other Subjects 281 

History 281 

Nature Study 283 

3. Principles governing Selection of Matter ... ... ... 283 

Culture Value 284 

Subordination of Facts to Principles ... ... ... 285 

Relation to out of school Experience 287 

4. The Geography of the Neighbourhood 289 

Preliminary Study 292 

Formal Study with Drawing of Maps 295 

Advanced Study 299 

Social Aspects 302 

A more Diversified Area 304 

G. The British Isles 309 

Connections between different Aspects of a District ... 310 

Separate Study of Geographical Areas ... ... ... 312 

The British Isles as a Whole 316 

Industries, Commerce, and Lines of Communication ... 317 

General Notions of the World 319 

London as Centre of National Activity ... ... ... 321 

7. Kelation of Courses in Geography and History ... ... .'>-_''J 

rneral Treatment of a Continent 3*27 

( .i. IMa ti. .11 .,f I Miysical and Social Aspects .'i-Js 

li. Human Aspects of Geography ... ... ... ... .S:>0 

II. Selection of Matter 

!_'. < -ins.- iii Physical Geography 

i i<> n t<> Main Course ... ... ... ... ... .TU 

Climate and \\-gftation :{.V> 

i:<. I Mail.-d Illustration : The Iberian Peninsula ;! 

in .f Teaching :u7 

|)i-<crijtim 348 

Text 1 KradiiiLC-lMM.ks :;i:i 

hes, etc :r,n 

Maps :{:,l 

M- ... ... 353 

Books Recommended :*,>! 





1. Meaning of Nature Study or Natural History 355 

Natural History in Schools 356 

Nature Study and Object Lessons 356 

Inherent Defects of Object Lessons ... 357 

Subject Matter of Nature Study 357 

Scope of Nature Study 358 

2. Functions of Nature Study 359 

A Right Relation to the Natural World 359 

Love of the Country ... ... ... ... ... ... 359 

A Foundation for Science Teaching ... ... ... 360 

An Aid to Literature 361 

Ethical Value 361 

3. General Method of Teaching 361 

Position in Time Table 362 

Schools in Large Cities ... ... ... 363 

4. Training of Teachers in Nature Study 363 

Need of Training ... 364 

Training of Pupil Teachers 'M i 1 

In Training Colleges :iii.~> 

Special Classes for Adult Teachers ... ... ... .Sii.~> 

Country Excursions ... ... ... ... ... ... 366 

Natural History Societies 366 

The Value of Books 366 

5. Aids to the Teaching of Natural History 368 

The Nature Excursion 368 

A Model Excursion 369 

The District to be Utilised Fully 370 

Interesting Phenomena ... ... ... ... 371 

The Excursion and Class Work 372 

Specimens Gathered ... ... ... ... ... 372 

Subsequent Lessons and Excursions ... ... 373 

Maps 374 

List of Excursions ... ... ... 374 

School Gardens . 375 



Aquaria ... 375 

Terraria 376 

Nature Diaries ... ... ... ... ... ... 377 

Models and Diagrams ... ... ... ... ... 378 

Should be made by Pupils themselves 378 

Model Models .... 379 

Drawings and Diagrams ... ... ... ... 380 

Drawing Books and Note-Books 380 

Oral and Written Descriptions 381 

Museums and Collections 381 

Public Museums 381 

School Museums ... ... ... ... ... 382 

Character of Good School Museums 382 

Living Objects of First Importance ... ... 384 

Collections :1M 

6. Correlation with other Subjects :>sii 

Geography 386 

Handicraft, Drawing, and Modelling 387 

.lish 387 

Mathematics 3S<) 

7. Course of Study :>'.'<> 

i. For the Earlier Years :M 

First Lesson on Seeds ... ... ... . .'>'.)<> 

Second Lesson 391 

Third Lesson :!!-' 

Fourth Lesson ::* 

Succeeding Lessons 

Lessons on Othn Sul.jrets :>'.! 

Ot her Courses :i'.l 

ii . For the Intermediate Years :>' ' 1 

i vat ins on the Potato ... ... ... >' | "> 

I - |MTiiiinils with the Potato 3! Mi 

Oth. , \V.,rk :<!><; 

iii. For the Later Years :<!>7 


\\th M-. \rinriits of tlm Dandelion 

Tli.- l:i|- Flints ... im 

Oth.-r Work KM 

Booka Kuoumiiiendetl I " 1 





1. Mathematics in Relation to Life 403 

Mathematics in the Primary School ... 404 

Mathematics in Child Life 405 

2. Mathematics as a Mental Discipline... ... ... ... 407 

The Training of a Critical Power 408 

Suitability of Mathematics to train Critical Power . . . 409 

Interest of Pupils in Intellectual Conquest ... ... 411 

3. Connection between Arithmetic and Geometry ... ... 412 

4. Development of Arithmetic from Empiric to Rational ... 413 

5. The Aim of Empiric Stage ... ... ... ... ... 414 

6. Measurement 415 

Number 416 

Units 417 

Numeration 418 

Notation 419 

7. Addition and Subtraction ... ... ... 419 

8. Multiplication and Division ... ... ... 419 

9. Systematising and Memorising ... ... ... ... 421 

Addition and Subtraction ... ... ... ... ... 421 

Multiplication and Division ... ... ... ... 422 

Measures of Length, Weight, Money, and Time . . . 4'23 

10. Reduction from one Unit to Another ... ... ... 424 

11. Written Language of Arithmetic ... ... 425 

Subtraction 426 

Multiplication 426 

Division ... ... ... ... ... 427 

Problems 427 

12. Drill in Mental and Written Arithmetic 428 

13. Practical Arithmetic ... 429 

Measurement of Length ... ... ... ... ... 429 

Drawing of Plans and Outlines to Scale ... ... ... 430 

Measurements in Weight and Cubical Capacity ... 431 

Measxirements in Money ... ... ... 431 

14. Aim of Rational Stage 432 

The Progress to Symbols 433 

The Progress in Practical Measurement ... ... ... 435 



!.". The relation between Quantity, Number, and Unit ... 436 

16. The Decimal Notation 438 

Tlu- : Nit-trie System 439 

Approximations ... ... ... ... ... ... 440 

Development of Numeration and Notation 440 

17. Fraction 444 

i< ma! Idea of Fractions 444 

Addition and Subtraction of Fractions 445 

Multiplication of Fractions 446 

Division of Fractions ... ... ... 446 

Generalised Forms ... ... ... ... 446 

18. Ratio, Proportion and Equations 447 

19. Percentages 449 

_'<. Ceneral Character of the Teaching 450 

-21. Practical Arithmetic in the Rational Stage 452 

i oral Character 453 

Measurement of Length 453 

M t-asurement of Area 4.">4 

Measurement of Volume 455 

Measurement of Density 455 

Measurement of Force ... ... ... 455 

Apparatus 456 

22. Tli- Universal Nature of Geometry 456 

_';{. In- History of the Development of Geometry ... ... 457 

Oeonu'try in K^ypt The Age of Empiricism ... ... 457 

The Influence of the Greeks The Age of Speculation... 458 

24. The Value of Geometry in Life 459 

li of Geometrical Ideas in the Mind ... ... ... 460 

Tin- I ntluence of Social Environment 460 

Tin- I ntlu.-iHt' of School Instruction 461 

26. Empiric Factor in the Teaching of Geometry 463 

Character of tin- T.Mi-hing 463 

Nature of the Course 464 

ion The Circle 464 

Second Illust rat in n The Isosceles Triangle 466 

Third Illii-tr.ition -Tin- Triangle K.7 

27. The i.- in the Teaching of Geometry ... 1'^ 

f 4IW 




The Axioms 473 

Illustration of the Teaching of Axioms, Euclid I. 4 ... 474 

The Propositions 477 

28. The Spirit of the Teaching 479 

Books Recommended . 480 



1. Form as a Mode of Expressing Ideas ... ... ... 482 

2. The Apprehension of Form ... ... ... 483 

3. Need for Training in Form 486 

4. Qualities inseparable from Form ... ... ... ... 487 

5. Aesthetic Aspect of Form 4s; 

6. General Functions of Training in Form ... ... ... 488 

7. The development of Manipulative Skill ... 491 

Perception and Skill 491 

Physiological and Psychological Importance of Physical 

Activities 493 

Social Importance of Developing Skill ... 495 

8. Choice of Means for Training Skill 496 

I nherent Possibility of Development ... ... ... 496 

Adaptation to Motor Development ... 497 

Value of Drawing and Modelling ... 497 

Carving in Wood 499 

Kducative Handicraft 499 

9. Summary of General Principles of Method ... 500 

10. Qualifications of the Teacher 501 

11. General Nature of Course in Modelling and Drawing ... 501 

General Order of Study 502 

General Contents of Course ... 502 

General Method of Teaching 504 

12. Art Work in English Primary Schools 505 

13. Early Course in Modelling and Drawing ... 507 

First Steps in Modelling 507 

Drawing in Mass ... 508 

Apprehension of Differences ... ... ... ... 508 

14. Brush Work and Outline Drawing 509 



15. Course in Nature Drawing ... ... ... ... ... 510 

16. Principles of Perspective ... ... ... ... ... 511 

17. Course in Conventional Art ... ... ... ... ... 513 

Ambidexterity ... ... ... ... ... ... 514 

Designs 514 

Modelling Art Forms 515 

18. Correlation with other Subjects of Study 516 

19. Carving in Wood 516 

Ji. Handicraft in Paper and Cardboard 517 

le of Teaching 517 

Drawings ... ... ... ... ... 517 

21. Handicraft in Wood 518 

Nature of Wood-work 518 

Correlation with Natural History ... ... ... 519 

Principles of Gradation ... ... ... 520 

Tools 520 

Skill 521 

Drawing and Planning 522 

M.-dels :>_:{ 

\ V < K xlwork in Rural Schools ... ... ... ... 525 

_'_'. Handicraft in Metal 526 

; i ie Teacher of Handicraft .v_y, 

_'l. ft bod G inluns 527 

Books Recommended , 528 



1. Purpose of Teaching Needlework 529 

_ in Skill 529 

Kinds ,f Skill Necessary 530 

-kill 530 

:>;,' of Practical Jud-iiu'iit and Initiative :,:{_' 

oi tip M..d- "t Trarhing 

Natun- ( ,i tin- Necessary Exercises 

1. Ib DM :. i. g of theChi.-f Stit.'li.-s and their A|. . 
HI mining 



Seaming and Running ............ ... 539 

The arrangement of Fells ............... 539 

Preparatory Exercises for Garments ......... 540 

Herring-boning .................. 541 

Button-holes ..................... 543 

The Gathering Exercise ............... 544 

5. The Cutting-out and Making of Garments ......... 545 

Scheme of Garments ... ............ 545 

Drafting of Patterns ............... 545 

Making of Garments ............... 547 

6. The Use of .Sewing Machines ............... f4X 

7. Practical Repair of Clothing ............... r>l< 

Suitable Exercises ... ............... 550 

8. Knitting ........................ .V>1 

9. Conclusion ..................... .VrJ 

Books Recommended ...... ......... f>r>4 




1. ONE of the most remarkable movements of the last 
century has been the increased importance 
Recognised attached in the public mind to education. 
oflJducation. Large sums are expended by the State and 
by local authorities in supplying and main- 
taining schools, and in securing the services of competent 
teachers. Old-fashioned people, indeed, are apt to grumble 
as expenditure on the machinery of education grows yearly 
heavier, but such grumblings become more and more in- 
frequent as the new fashion of thought spreads, and those 
who are not converted at least hold their peace or give 

bo their dissatisfaction only in private. 
Meanwhile, a growing tendency is observable in the public 
press and on public platforms to regard education as a 
panacea for all social and economic ills. If our markets 
seem to be endangered by the enterprise of a foreign 
nation, it is pointed out that the nation in question has 
a system of technical schools and colleges more complete 
and better organised than our own. If we are not as 
immediately successful in war as patriotism would desire. 
< are hear-! <>n evrrv hand warning us that 

\\li.n amongst us are to be seen signs ..r |.h\-i, il 



deterioration, and calling for compulsory systems of drill 
and other forms of physical training, and often for the 
public feeding of the children, to enable them to profit 
both by this and by what is more commonly understood 
by 'schooling.' 

As the demand for the spread of the franchise becomes 
more and more irresistible, fears arise lest the newly en- 
franchised voters should use their power unwisely, and 
statesmen feel the need "to educate our masters." In 
these and other ways the fashionable creed is brought 
home to us, that socially and politically education is the 
one thing needful. 

2. But despite all this current enthusiasm and still more 
current eloquence, there seems to be no cl-;ir 

Doubt as to insight into the nature of this supreme LT M 1 
Function of . , ,. _* . 

Education. which all agree in demanding. It is as true 

now-a-days as it was in the time of Aristotle 
that "there is no agreement as to what the young ah- mid 
learn, either with a view to the production of goodness or 
the best life, nor is it settled whether education ought to 
be directed mainly to the culture of the intellect or to tin- 
development of character. Nor is the perplexity removrd 
by an examination of the actual education we see around 
us, for there is no certainty whether education should !. a 
training in what is merely useful as a means of livelihood, 
or in what tends to promote goodness, or in the disciplinary 
studies. Each of these views has some supporters. 
Further, even amongst those who accept goodness and 
character as the end there is no agreement as to the right 
means to adopt. For at the very outset there is a difference 
of opinion as to what kind of goodness is most worthy of 
esteem, and, as a natural consequence, as to the nature of 
the training necessary for its development." 1 
1 Politics, v. 1 


3. Amidst all the current confusion there runs indeed 

the vague and general notion that education 
f? eed D to Resole should be, in some way, a preparation for 
life, or, as Mr. H. Spencer puts it, " for com- 
plete living." Such a statement wins acceptance by its 
very vagueness and generality, but it is obviously inadequate 
as a guide to those who are to undertake in any special 
way the actual work of education, and who wish to set 
about that work not in a mechanical manner, ruled by 
mere tradition, but as intelligent " artists in the souls of 
children." They feel it needful to be able to give definite 
and well-grounded answers to such questions as, What is 
the aim of education? What do we wish to accomplish 
when we deliberately set ourselves to mould and direct the 
lives of the young ? Why does the State enforce schooling 
and pay so heavy a price to have its children brought under 
school influence? What has the community a right to 
expect as the result of its sacrifices and regulations? 
What should parents require the school to do for their 

Such inquiries will be taken by many people to be 
equivalent to each other, for modern habits of speech tend 
more and more to limit education to schooling. But in 
ivality tli.-v a iv manifold, and involve the relations of 
home, school, and State as instruments of education, as 
well as the more fundamental question of the nature of 
tin- <-nd which all their efforts are bent to realise. It is 
with this more fundamental question we are now concerned. 

4. What then is the aim of education, and what shall be 

included under the term ? In a sense, every- 
Application tiling which helps to mould and form a 
'Education.' human life is part of its education. In this 

widest application physical influences, siirli 
as climate and mati-rinl surroim.i re M-enl 


education, as well as everything in the social environment. 
Who can deny the formative influence of city or 
country life, of social position, of wealth or poverty, of 
refinement or coarseness ? Everything which comes into 
one's life influences it to a greater or less extent, though 
in many cases, of course, the influence is too slight to be 

It is not, however, usual to speak of every formative 
influence as educative, and it will be necessary for our 
purpose to limit the term to influences which are inten- 
tionally brought to bear upon the individual by those who 
are in a position superior in some respects to his own. 
Even so it will be seen that the scope of the term is a wide 
one and will include not only the efforts of the school, but 
those of the home indefinite and semi-conscious as these 
often are and the regulation of life by the State and by 
the narrower social community in which the individual's life 
is passed, which by example, precept, and in the last re- 
sort compulsion, enforce their views of life and conduct 
upon their members. Nor must we omit the potent influence 
of the Church, including under that name every specially 
religious organisation. The degrees in which the moulding 
of the individual by these agencies is intentional of course 
varies enormously both as a whole and in detail. I.ut 
wherever any element of intention is present the influence 
should be regarded as educative. 

5. It is evident that education as thus defined will 
include influences good, bad, and indifferent. 
Education. ^ or some ^ those thus accepted as edu- 
cators may deliberately exert an evil influence 
and of set purpose train and incite to wrong, whilst a much 
larger number will do ill even though meaning to do well, 
either from a misapprehension of what is really good, or 
from want of power to organise and direct the means to 


tin- attainment of the perceived good. Hence we are led 
back to the root question: At what should education 
aim? and then to the dependent query: By what 

:iisation of means can it attain its end? 
\v to the former of those two inquiries many answers 
have Veil given and are still given. But they all fall 
under two genera 1 classes the individualistic and the 

tl. Those who look upon education as primarily, if 
not exclusively, for the benefit of the individual to be 
educated, give as their answer some form of preparation 
for adult life which will make that individual life a more 
desirable one than it would otherwise be. According to 
their view of what makes life desirable they lay most stress 
on the development of goodness, on the training of 
intellectual power, or on the acquirement of some form 
of aptitude which will be of direct service in earning a 
livelihood. And obviously the social position and degree 
of culture of the parents will largely determine which of 
is re'jarded by them as the most important. Simi- 
larly, the State and the smaller local communities arc apt 
to regard each of these ends as most appropriate to a 
l and most desirable for the members of 

( hi the other hand those who look upon education as 

primarily for 1 he good of the State, or of the community. 

will :!ieir answer that it should render those who 

:ted mere fitted to perform well some function in 

the community , should discover what specific function each 

individual U U-st fitted to fulfil. Mini should train him 

for that. II* laid on goodness. 

intellect, or industrial skill as the mosf valuable in general 

m of tin* community. 

Thus the poults of the two answers may concido to a 
large extent in tin- cominumt\ as a whole. But whilst the 


former regards the social organisation mainly as a means 
for the advancement of the individual, the latter cares 
nothing for the individual as such, and only requires that 
the work of the community shall be well done. Whilst, 
for example, the former would found scholarships and set 
up " the ladder from the elementary school to the univer- 
sity," the latter would care little or nothing for such aids 
to the talents of the poor. So long as a sufficient number 
of citizens were found able to fill efficiently the higher 
walks of intellectual, social, and industrial life, the cost of 
whose training could be borne by their families, the com- 
munity as a whole would not feel called upon to seek out 
yet others to train for similar pursuits at the general cost. 
Its aim would rather be to limit the number of those 
trained for the higher and more intellectual occupations by 
the number of probable vacancies in such pursuits. 

Each of these views can be traced in the past. In its 
crudest form education consisted in training the child in the 
pursuits hunting, fishing, fighting, etc. necessary to en- 
able him to maintain himself and his family when he should 
reach adult life. As occupations became more specialised 
this training took the general form of teaching the l<y 
the craft or trade of his father and the girl the household 
duties performed by the mother. 

But as communities became more organised the con- 
ception of the child as the future citizen became dominant, 
and, as a consequence, the idea that education is intended 
to train loyal and useful citizens overshadowed the con- 
ception that it is a means of benefiting the individual. 
This idea was carried out most fully in Sparta, where the 
family was practically abolished and the State took the 
training of its young citizens entirely into its own hands. 
Both Plato and Aristotle were much influenced by this 
view, but they raised it to a higher level by regarding the 


whole organisation of the State as a means for the perfect 
development of the citizen as well as the education of the 
individual as a means to the perfection of the State. Thus 
in these philosophers we find a nice balancing of the 
claims of individual and community. 

In the mediaeval Church the social view was predomi- 
nant. Education was regarded as a means of training 

_r 1 Christians who would be citizens of the Kingdom of 

H raven. Nevertheless, in that it substituted the spiritual 
for tin- temporal world it of necessity concerned itself with 
the personal or individual side of life. But at the same 
time its method of education was admirably adapted to 
train up a body of men who would continue its organisa- 
tion and prosecute its aims. 

Concurrently witli this ecclesiastical system of education, 
with its strongly marked social tone, was that of chivalry, 
in which the sons of a favoured few were trained in the 
castles of the nobles. This was essentially individualistic 
in its conception: it aimed at making the perfect knight. 
whos<- characteristic virtues of courage and courtesy were 
essentially personal. 

It must be noted, however, that in the ideal State of 

Plato, and in mediaeval society, formal and systematic edu- 

n, whether ecclesiastical or baronial, was essentially 

aristocratic in its conception. It was reserved for the 

select few, whilst the vast many continued to receive only 

the practical family and industrial training <>f earlier ages. 

With an ignorant and debased peasantry such an educa- 

was all too often imperfect industrially and had 

intellectually and m rally. It was the special work of the 

nineteenth century, under the influence, of Pestalo/./i in 

nid, of Bell and Lancaster in England, and of 

lik- sympathies, to pr..m<.1e a definite and 

itional training oi' tin- children >f 1 he p..,, r. and, as a 


necessary means, to advocate the establishment and organi- 
sation of schools by the State. But the very success of 
their efforts, by enormously increasing the number of 
children receiving schooling, naturally led to the gradual 
weakening of the social idea of the purpose of education 
and the corresponding increase in strength of the opinion 
that it is primarily an individual benefit. For in a modern 
State the numbers are too large, and the social and in- 
dustrial organisation is too complex, for the State to 
attempt any apportionment of occupation in accordance 
with ability. And, further, the advantage to the State of 
the education of any particular individual is not obvious. 
The current individualistic philosophy of the eighteenth 
and early nineteenth centuries made for the same results, 
so that the individualistic conception is probably now the 
more prevalent. 

Such a conception errs rather negatively than positively. 
For a child is a human being, and as such he is essentially 
an individual. But modern thought is more and more 
tending to emphasise that every individual is what he is 
through his interaction with his surroundings, physical 
and social. As a social being he enters into all sorts of 
relations with other human beings, and with the world in 
general, and as he grows older the range and scope of 
these relations increase. Cut away the social side of a 
person and the individual is reduced to an empty nothing. 
His development and success in life depend upon the 
fulness and wisdom with which he enters into suitable 
relations with the world in which he finds himself. To do 
this implies that he understands these relations and can 
interpret them liberally and generously. Only by under- 
standing, for example, the relations of the physical world 
to his purposes can he avail himself of physical means. 
Every discovery in the mechanical arts is an illustration of 


this. Understanding the power and activity of steam and 
ttg how to contrive by certain forms of arranging 
matter to utilise this power enabled man to invent the 
.-team-engine. Similarly, only by understanding the 
relations of the social world and unifying his actions with 
those relations can one secure the direct or indirect co- 
ition of his fellows. It is needless to labour the 
point, which seems sufficiently obvious. Only by grasping 
dearly that life is a system of relations, and that every 
such relation has, as its two terms, the individual on the 
one hand and on the other some portion of the physical or 
human world a 1 'out him, can we harmonise the claims of 
individual and social considerations to determine life, and 
consequently to be operative in our conception of the 
purpose of education. 

Governed by this conception, we shall say that the 
purpose of education should be to lead the child into the 
fullest, truest, noblest, and most fruitful relations of which 
he is capable with the world in which he lives. 

Such relations may be broadly classified as theoretical 
and practical those of knowledge and those 

Tf n n TXT 1 o/1 cro 

and Practice ^ JU '^ 011 - The distinction between knowing 
and doing is frequently drawn somewhat 
rigidly in modern thought, with the result that their 
mutual dependence is overlooked, and theory and practice 
are set in antithesis to each other. This is a result of 
the predominantly intellectual cast of philosophic thought 
for the last two centuries. Its consequences in education 
are serious knowledge is often confounded with erudition, 
and practice with rule-of-thuml> aptitude. In old Greek 
thought the distinction \\as no uted into a 

M. \Vith Socrates, knowledge was the power by 
which things are done, and included not only the under- 
standing how to do them, luit the skill to apply that 


understanding. Happily, thinkers are again seeing that 
this is the truer view of actual human life. Know- 
ledge is the power of dealing effectively with situations, 
and is not complete unless the ' how ' is added to the 
'why.' As Griiyau puts it: "To know is to be led as a 
whole to learn more and to be able to do more." 1 

Of course the ' situation ' may be theoretical or prac- 
tical. Every moment of one's waking and conscious life 
finds one in a situation requiring to be dealt with by 
some form of mental or physical activity. Experience, in- 
deed, is nothing but a series of situations and the deal in- 
with them. Thus, one may deal with a situation by decid- 
ing on a line of conduct and then steadfastly carrying it 
out ; by inventing some machine or applying some material 
aptitude ; by understanding the nature and cause of natural 
phenomena; by appreciating references to history or to 
literature ; by entering into the spirit of a work of art. 
But whatever the situation may be, the power of dealing 
with it effectively includes not only a set of ideas which, as 
it were, reflect its nature, but also a system of ideas of the 
kind of activity which will enable us to extract from it all 
the advantage it is capable of yielding. Without this 
there is no effective knowledge. 

When this fuller view of "knowledge is taken, the dispute 
whether ' knowledge ' or ' skill ' should be the result aimed 
at in education is seen to be settled. To make either tin- 
sole aim is to render it impossible that even the half 
aimed at should be attained. Man's knowledge began in 
his practical needs, and every advance in knowledge has a 
practical bearing on life, either on the material or on the 
mental side. To enter into any piece of knowledge is to 
apprehend this bearing, and such apprehension can only 
result from the actual working it out in practice. 
1 Education and Heredity, p. 286. 


.M net 've-r, t ho answer to the question whether knowledge 
or virtue is the ultimate end of education is 

Sd Virtue ma<1( ' l ' asier - The highest knowledge is know- 
ledge of how to deal witli life itself, as distinct 
from its trappings and accessories. Such knowledge the 
died ' Wisdom,' and Wisdom they placed first of 
the cardinal virtues, tin- others being tliose qualities which 
enable a man to carry out without flinching, and with due 
1 to tlu 1 rights of others, a line of conduct seen to be 
\\ise. At the same time, as has been said, knowledge in- 
cluded practice. anl so miglit broadly be spoken of as 
covering the more obviously active qualities of the will, as 
well as those more contemplative attributes of the intellect 
which knowledge ' or ' wisdom' more directly suggests. So 
Hi what Socrates meant by his identification of know- 
lelire and virtue. For knowledge or wisdom was not 
thiiiu r merely existing in the mind, but was the actual 
dealing with the important things of life in a masterly 
way. And this implied persistence and effort, or, as we 
should say. 'Will.' Now the term 'virtue' to the Greek 
d'iiot-d the characteristic excellence of anything said to 
possess it. So that human virtue was excellence in living 
a human life in every one of its relations. Hence, virtue 
and knowledge approach so near each ot her as to be practi- 
cally indistinguishable. 

It i- e.pially evident, however, that this idenl iticat ion 

cannot ! made if the narrower and more popular mean- 

IN- given to 'virtue' and 'knowledge' and 'practice.' 

owe have the disputes already referred ! M to which 

se is tin- ultimate aim of education. On the view 

we have taken eadi |\ itself is inadequate. To say that 

\ i- the aim of education." or that "The aim of 

educ, be development ,.f a irood cliai-;ict.T." is -illier 

to limit the M i.-aii..]]. or to extend the nieanii 


'morality' and 'good character' beyond the usual 
modem acceptation. Yet more unfortunate is it to make 
the aim of education the acquirement of 'knowledge' 
in the very common modern sense of remembered infor- 
mation, for that is to divorce the educative process 
from the largest and most important parts of the life 
for which it has to prepare. Lastly, to make mere 
unintelligent practice the aim is to reduce man to a piece 
of machinery and to negate all the higher parts of his 

This is well put by Mr. Dodvvell in an article on ' Matt liew 
Arnold as a Social Reformer.' He says: " It is of course a 
very ancient truism that a just morality is the basis of all 
healthy social life. But the true ethical ideal can only lie 
conceived by the man of well-balanced, well- developed 
mind ; the true morality can therefore only be fitly con- 
ceived of, and indeed practised, by a mind whose aims are 
other than purely moral. To a lofty conception of conduct 
must be added the love of beauty, the love of knowledge, 
the love of social life ; for we can agree to take as our ideal 
neither the hermit's, because we believe that man may find 
a higher life in society than in the desert ; nor the ideal of 
the ignorant and uninstructed, because the intellect and 
its products are the most truly characteristic of man's 
power and works ; nor the ideal of the Philistine, because 
civilisation, that quality which separates us from the 
savage, lies so greatly in the educated sense of beauty in 
all its possible forms. It is essential that all these should 
be in mutual subordination : our sense of beauty and good 
manners must not lead us into unworthy actions ; and our 
sense of right, also, must be so subtly tempered as never 
to produce unlovely deeds." 1 

Or, as Lord Avebury briefly sums it up: "There are 
1 Macmillan's Magazine, Nov. 1905, pp. 57-8. 


three ^mit questions which in life we have over and over 
airain t> aus\\vr. Is it right or wrong? Is is true or 
false? Is it beautiful or ugly? Our education ought to 
help us to answer these questions." 1 

The Sorratic ' Wisdom ' or 'Virtue' will, perhaps, better 
than any other single term, cover the complex network of 
relations into which true education should lead the child. 
be child is led into this wisdom he is gradually enabled 
to understand his environment, is made acquainted with 
the typical relations of life, and is inspired with clear and 
generous ideas about them; he becomes capable of entering 
sympathetically into the thoughts, and aspirations, and 
activities of his fellow-men, both as individuals and as 
smaller or larger communities ; he reaches understanding 
of the physical world, and appreciation of its forms of 
beauty. And in this ever- widening process his own indi- 
viduality grows and develops: his powers are realised only 
as they are exercised on appropriate material. Thus the 
development of his relations to his surroundings is the 
pin* -nt of his own personality. And this develop- 
ment is possible only through his own activity. He 
himself must organise and systematise his ideas so that 
they are in true relation to each other and to the life which 
he has t< live, and may issue in the appropriate expressive 
activity, mental or physical. In a word, the aim of educa- 
tion should le the atkiinment of that masterly power of 
dealing with life, and of appreciating at their true value 
the tilings of life, which Socrates called 'Wisdom.' This, in 
more modern phraseology, may be styled the development 

6. K<lii< atioM. in the sense in which we have now defined 
it. is obviously not confined to school-life nor even to 
youth. Throughout lit',.. ( 'hurch. State. Civic ( 'oimnmiify, 

/;. OUp. vi. 


and Social Organisation exercise their pressure and give 
their instruction by example, precept, or 
und erstood convention. The limit of the 
educative process is only reached when the 
individual becomes incapable of further modification or 
development. No doubt, as age advances one's plasticity 
decreases, but it would be hard to prove when, in any 
individual case, it absolutely ceases. 

Another educative influence is the vocation or employ- 
ment by which one earns a livelihood. In youth or 
early manhood, after school days are past and when the 
directive influence of home is lessened, the chief educative 
influence in most lives is the deliberate teaching of a pro- 
fession, craft, or trade. For here we have one whole set 
of relations, hitherto left vague and indeterminate, given a 
definite direction and character. 

During childhood, however, the essentially educative 
agencies are the Home, the School, and the Church. 

In the earliest years the home stands alone. In it the 
child learns many bodily aptitudes and forms 
many habits of conduct. He learns to talk 
and to understand speech, and in so learning he imbibes 
many of the thoughts and opinions of the family, and, all 
unconsciously, adopts the general attitude of life therein 
prevalent. He enters into many of the simpler social 
relationships, especially those of obedience to parents and 
of courtesy and consideration for others, if the home be 
good, and their opposites of roughness and selfishness if it 
be bad. Throughout youth this influence of the home 
continues to be consciously exerted, though with gradually 
but constantly diminishing directive force ; often it lasts 
far into life. And though, doubtless, there are homes that 
are bad, a yet larger number which are careless, and many 
which are not remarkable for their wisdom, yet it cannot 


be doubted that the educative influence of the home is, on 
the whole, a force making for righteousness in the com- 
munity. No true view of education, certainly, can ignore 
the home, though such ignoring seems to be implied by 
the common identification of education with schooling. 
Education, if wise and continued throughout generations, 
mav work a radical reformation in a social state which 
contains much evil, but to hope that mere schooling will 
do so, whilst the other agents of education remain unsatis- 
factory. is futile. 
That the school is an educative agent is obvious to 

all. It sets itself ostensibly to train the 
The School. , , . , , . ./ , 

young, and besides this it has no other 

justification. All the other educative agents we have 
named have other functions, and so their work as educators 
is ;ipt to be overlooked. But it is not so with the school. 
F' >r the work of the school is organised solely with this 
purpose. It is, therefore, the most typical if not the 
most powerful educative instrument. 

If we consider the place of the school in the social 
organisation we shall see more clearly what part of the 
work of education especially falls to it. On the one hand 
it takes up the specialised function of instruction which the 
uts have neither time nor skill, and frequently not the 
knowledge, to impart. Specialised work is the character- 
of all advanced civilisation, and it is not surprising 
that as knowledge increased and life became more c,.mj,l,.\ 
th.- need of specialists in teaching should be felt. The 
teacher in school, then, acts as the delegate of the parents 
in the work of teaching. This bein^ S o. it is evident that 
the -dm 'alive process will only go on smoothly and well 
when h<mc and school wrk in li innony with r.n-h 

On the oth.-r hand the scl 1 i< tl r-m through ul,j,-li 


the State mainly brings its influence to bear on the young. 
Even when a school is not regulated by the State it inter- 
prets the laws and customs of the State to its pupils, and, 
of course, when there is State organisation and direction 
the relation is more intimate. The school has, therefore, 
to assist in carrying out the aims of the State in providing 
for the education of the young. 

The school thus stands as the intermediary and reconciling 
ground between the private and individual claims of the 
family and the social claims of the State. It is this even 
to its scholars. For in the wider community of the school 
they enter into relations different from those in the family, 
and yet simpler and more limited in scope than those that 
await them in the world. 

The educative influence of the Church is, in child- 
hood and early youth, mainly exercised 
indirectly through the home and the school, 
and so far as it is exercised directly it is by example 
and teaching, and does not in this differ materially from 
the school. 

7. From even this brief discussion it has become manifest 

that it is an error to regard education only 
Education and ;LS a pre paration for adult life, if such a view 

leads us to determine its means simply by a 
consideration of the requirements of that life. For life 
grows out of life, and child-life can only become full and 
fruitful when it finds expression in child-relations. From 
the home, through the school, the workshop, the social 
community, the child passes to the fuller relations involved 
in the State and in the Church, and it is only as he has 
participated fully in the former that he can profitably 
enter into the latter. 

8. A full treatment of the theory of education would, 
then, cover a very wide ground. Our purpose in this book 


K as its title indicates, much more limited. -We deal with 
hut one factor in education. But it was 
Teaching 11 * necessary to set forth at the beginning tin- 
other and perhaps more important factors, 
in order that the true function of this one may be 
appreciated. We confine ourselves, first, to the school, 
as the typical teaching institution. Then we further limit 
our outlo.ik t<> the work of teaching, omitting those more 
important means ot' education which are involved in the 
xchool as a systematically organised social community, in- 
cluding it stone or general moral atmosphere, its government, 
and discipline, and that potent influence, the personality 
of the teacher. We treat of teaching by itself, because it 
is an aspect of school life which can be singled out in 
thought, though it cannot be separated in reality from the 
whole of which it forms a part, and because it covers a 
fairly consistent l.ody of doctrine. It is true the value 
and success of all school teaching depend on those wider 
and deeper elements of school life tone, discipline, etc. 
which we are omitting. But it is also true that whilst the 
latter may be excellent the former may be of poor quality, 
and also, though in a much less degree, that teaching 
good in conception may accompany bad discipline and 
bad tone. 

9. Now in order that any work should be done really 
.well it is plain that there must be a clear 

Theory and conception of the end or purpose to be 
Practice in . ' ... .. 

Teaching. attained and an intelligent adaptation of 

available means to the attainment of that 

end. This conception of end and means ii \\hai is meant 

l.y the theory of teaching. In other words, theory is 

OUI of jtM-lf. and pra.-ti.-e is realised 

the.irx. We lri\e alivad\ >eeii thai Socrates included l"th 
under knowledge; and modern custom retains to some 



extent the same comprehensive meaning when it speaks of 
knowing how to do something which requires skill. And 
teaching is emphatically skilled work. It may be, and 
often is, done mechanically, but then the result is inferior ; 
in other words, the children so treated suffer an irreparable 
wrong. The essence of mechanical work is that there is 
no special adaptation of means to end, often no clear 
conception of what end is really aimed at, but a mere 
rule of thumb following out of process which leaves off 
at a certain time but never finishes in the sense of com- 
pleting a set work and attaining a set purpose. The 
mechanical teacher does as he was done by; with him 
progress implies change, and change is unwelcome, for 
he cannot adapt himself to it. So the weary tread-mill 
round goes on, and the school becomes less and less ;i 
satisfactory educative agent. For it brings its pupils 
into no living relations with the world, and the sterile 
and transitory relations it does establish take no account 
of the progress of events and the actual state of man- 
kind. It abides in the traditions of the elders 
traditions adapted it may be to the social state a few cen- 
turies ago, but quite unfitted to the changed conditions of 
the present. 

The only escape, however, from mechanism in teaching 
is to be found in earnest reflection on the purpose and 
nature of teaching, and the results of such reflection is 
theory. Thus, a theory of teaching which deserves the 
name is in the closest possible touch with actual school 
work. It is not an unsubstantial vision spun out of the 
clouds of an untrammelled imagination, but it is the 
result of an analysis of the function of teaching, including 
its aim and the factors concerned in it. 

10. We have agreed that teaching is one of the instru- 
ments of education, and that its special function is to 


impart understanding anl skill; in one word, knowledge. 
in the sense in which we prefer to use the 
term. Now in this process there are three 
chief factors tlie child to be taught, the 
subject -matter hv means of which he is to be taught, and 
tin- tea. -her wlio teaches him. A theory of teaching must 
brim: these into effective union. Of the three far tors the 
teacher is evidently the interm> liary between the other" 
two. He lar-vly derides what the child shall learn in 
school, and in what way he shall learn it. But there his 
function The child must do his learning for him- 

if it is to be of any worth. In other words, those 
relations only are fruitful which the individual establish^ 
for himself : knowledge is power only when it is attained 
by personal effort. Moreover, what the child learns has 

\vn nature which the teacher cannot alter, though he 
may, by bad teaching, place a distorted vision of it before 
the child's mind. The material of learning must always 
be some part of the collective knowledge of mankind, and 

|ii-iitly must embody those relations which make 
kn >\\led_:e what it is. 

11. The teacher, then, must regard on the one hand the 
nature of the child to be taught, and on the 

Other tlu> Il!ltliro f knowled & e iu general 
and of the special piece of knowledge to be 
in particular. This is what is meant when it 
id that the theory of teaching r --sts on psychology 
and "ii l"u r ic. For kin>wl-l^e "I" t lie nio.lrs of mental life !' 

to be taught is psychological knowledge, which a 

'inatic psychology may help us to attain but 
..- us. Such knowledge can be reached only at 
liand. by sympathetic study of the children we have 
;ich. M- 'i.,l,,^i<-al iiisiu'lif. however, will not 

B teaching etTe.-t ive. !'.! .-hildivn's minds often M 


inaccurately, and are, moreover, apt to rest satisfied with 
very imperfectly attained results. Hence, teaching must 
set forth the material of knowledge in such a form that its- 
true inherent relations may be grasped and that the 
dependence of part upon part may be made explicit. This 
is what we mean by the application of logic to teaching. 
All teaching is logical which sets forth true relations 
within the matter of knowledge. 

There is, of course, no opposition between these two 
sets of principles. Our inquiry is psychological when we 
ask how a mind does work in its attempts to deal with the 
world. The answer often shows that it so works that it 
attains false results, as, for example, in the explanations 
of natural phenomena given by the superstitious mytholo- 
gies of savages. When we then go on - to ask how the 
mind should work to attain truth, the inquiry becomes ;i 
logical one. When an opposition is set up between a 
' psychological method ' of teaching and a ' logical ' one, 
the term ' logical ' is confined in flagrant opposition to 
current logical doctrine to deduction. For the last sixty 
years at least logic has protested against any such limita- 
tion. In brief, every piece of teaching which arouses any 
mental process at all in a pupil is psychological, and every 
piece of teaching which leads a pupil towards truth is 

When a teacher prepares a piece of teaching he has 
first to decide what relations he wishes to set before 
his pupils ; then he has to solve the two psychological 
problems of what forms of mental activity those pupils 
must experience in order to master those relations, 
and of how they may be incited to put forth those 
forms of effort. In giving the lesson the teacher's atten- 
tion is doubtless fixed mainly upon the last of these 
inquiries, but the other two must be firmly in his 


consciousness in close union with each other, or the lesson 
will le a failure. The pupils, on the other hand, will have 
their attention concentrated on the logical relations; in 
other words, on the subject-matter of the lesson. Of the 
mental processes they are passing through and of the 
iier's devices to prompt them to go through those 

-ses they are, or should be, unconscious. 

It is only when the teacher clearly appreciates the 

instrumental character of his work that teaching fulfils 

its titie function of causing others to learn. And 'to 

learn ' here implies power to do as well as power to 

understand : it moans the attainment of knowledge in the 

K already adopted of power to deal effectively with 

situations. We have in the following chapters to consider 

how the teacher's mediation between his pupils and the 

great world around them may be made effective. 



1. NOTHING except the ultimate good is of value simply 
in and for itself. The value of all other of 
*' ue t nm tf- s we esteem of worth is relative to 
some end which they tend to serve. And 
such end, again, is of value relatively to some wider end, 
and so on till we reach the highest good itself. There is 
thus a successive hierarchy of values beginning with the 
most trivial objects we esteem and leading up in a con- 
tinuous network of streams to their culmination in the 
higlu'4. good for men as we judgr it to be. 

'2. It thus appears that education itself has a relative 

value, the relation being to the kind of life 

Relative Values we judge highest and noblest. Evidently, 

School and 11 ' then, there is no such thing as an absolutely 

Teaching. good education that is one which would be 

of equal worth in every set of conditions. 

For with variations in the conception of the ideal of life 

there must of necessity be corresponding variations in ihe 

education which prepares for that life. As the end varies 

so must the means vary in relation to it. 



If tli is is true of the whole content of education, it is 
still more true of the agents of education. The functions 
of thf State, the family, and the school are directly 
related to the whole process of education, and indirectly 
an<l through that to the conception of the end of life. 
Hence, the test of the value of any school is the degree to 
which it fulfils its function in the whole educative process. 
And as various schools differ in function, so the appli- 
< -at ion of such a test will be various. 

In the third decree of relative value we have the instru- 
ments which the school uses to secure its object broadly, 
instruction and discipline. The value, then, of school 
instruction is directly relative to our idea of the ends the 
school has to serve, and through that indirectly relative to 
our conception of the work of education as a whole, and 
through that again to our conception of the ultimate 
meaning aiid purpose of human life. In other words, the 
value of the school is itself relative, and that of all school 
instruments relative in a lower degree. 

3. If this be borne in mind there will be no danger of 
our falling into the very common errors of 
E %a eratine t'xagi^'rating either the function of the school 
Functions of as a whole by regard ing it as the only 
School and of ( M liK'ative community, or thai of instruction 
Teaching. , , /. ./ i , 

by thinking of it as the sole educative 

: inn-lit the school employs. Such exaggerations are 
not only theoivt i -ally unfortunate; they frequently entail 
undcMruM*' practical consequences. The pedagogical arro- 
\\liii-h is tin- natural outcome- of the view that the 
the onl\ dii'-ativ.- institution is both a 

cause and a symptom of a dislocation l>etween the school 
th- \\.-rld "U- :\. and the family in par- 

tin- which on the whole process of 

\ ignoring by the 


teacher of moulding influences outside the school does not 
put those influences out of existence, but it does lead to 
much waste of effort and to grievous disappointment at 
the contrast between the results achieved and those which 
the theory that the school is all in all in education would 
lead one to expect. 

Similarly, the exaggerated importance often given to in- 
struction in school education tends to the substitution of 
the means for the end, and to making the acquirement of 
information the ostensible end of school work. This at 
bottom means the setting up of external success as the 
main if not the only aim of effort. In this way the whole 
influence of the school is thrown, often unintentionally, 
on the side of a narrowly materialistic view of life. Con- 
currently with this exaggeration and proportionate to it, 
we have a neglect of all forms of social life in the 
school, especially of school games, and a tendency to 
regard drill and gymnastics as furnishing a sufficient 
physical training. 

4. If, then, we grasp the truth that any piece of instruc- 
tion has but a limited effect on the total life of 
Test of our pupils, we shall be all the more desirous 

Val'ufof nal tllilt none of our efforts in teacmil g sh all be 
Instruction. either wasted or misdirected. Misdirection 
of effort is, indeed, worse than waste, for in 
the latter case the effect is merely zero, but in the former 
it is a negative quantity relatively to our aim. Hence, 
relatively to the work of education, the question of the 
value of the instruction given is of vast importance. This 
question arises in three main aspects of instruction. First, 
as to those broad factors of the course of study known as 
'subjects.' Secondly, as to the actual content of those 
factors. It is obviously not enough to decide that a certa i :i 
subject, say history, shall be taught. The actual value of 


that subject as an instrument of education will depend 
upon what purls of it we teach. Thirdly, it will depend 
also upon how it is taught, whether in such a way that 
it becomes mere mental lumber or in such that it enters 
into the very texture of life itself. 

It is seen, then, that the decision of this question of the 
value of the different parts of the school curriculum is 
dominated by the conclusion arrived at with regard to the 
aim of the school work as a whole. We have decided this 
to lx>, in tht- most general terms, to bring the pupils as 
far as possible into good, true, and effective relations with 
the world of which they are constituents. If we analyse 
this idea \ve find that it covers 

(a) preparation for the utilitarian life of earning a 


(6) preparation for social life in all its forms, 
(c) preparation for the private life of cultured 


On the subjective side this means a development of 
the inner capacities with reference to these ends; for 
such development is the one essential condition of the 
'preparation' spoken of in each case. Now, according i> 
our view of the life our pupils lead in the present and arc- 
likely to lead in the future we shall emphasise the relative 
importance of one or other of these great depart inent s, and 
we shall call that development of capacity a harmonious 
one which observes these relations of emph;i>i-. 

5. Such a brad statement of the test of value covers and 
includes all that is true in the cm-rent tests 

Evils of apply- of educational vulue, vi/., us Spencer iuts it, 
ing imperfect , 

Testa. " vulue M Kiiowlrdge ana value us discipline. 

line time it prevent > -\au pi .rTat ion on 

VOn tl ther if it is fully and con-i-teiitly 

;ipp! i >honld piv\riit us from con .\\\\ 


piece of teaching exclusively from either of these abstract 
points of view abstract in that in all real learning there 
is both content, or some knowledge acquired, and dis- 
cipline, or mental exercise in the attainment of that 

Of these two abstractions the latter has generally been 
the favourite of the professional educator, 

Disci ^ine ' an( ^ ^ e ^ oriner that ^ the man ^ n ^ ue street 
the unprofessional educator. He is anxious 
about what his son learns and cares little for the li<>n\ 
whilst the teacher naturally tends to emphasise the ' how ' 
at the expense of the 'what,' for the 'how' is the distinctive 
mark of his craft. So we hear much of the disciplinary 
value of mathematics or of classics in that they train the 
' faculties' of reasoning and judgment, of the aim of objn-1 - 
lessons as a training of the observation, and of practice 
in ' design ' as a development of the imagination. 

Now, if taken narrowly enough, such statements are true. 
But the usual implication is that there is attained through 
such means a general development of the faculty in question. 
But this is not so. Every such ' faculty ' is merely a 
mental habit and it is no more possible to develop, for 
example, a memory in general than it is to develop a habit 
of movement in general. We can develop a memory for 
words, figures, forms, etc., but we can do no more. More- 
over, mere facility of memory is. not its most important 
feature: tenacity and power of selection and systematisa- 
tion are still more desirable qualities. And tln-st- imply 
that habits of memory are not formed separately by exT- 
cises devoted to that end alone, but are developed as part 
of the regular activity of mind in gaining knowledge. 
Similar remarks hold true of training the observation, 
training the imagination, and so on. All such ' faculties ' 
must be developed as essential factors in a healthy men! al 


life; lut if the attempt is made to develop them in 
isolation the result is merely the formation of certain 
narrow mental habits. 

Further, the setting up of this 'training of faculty' as 
our immediate aim is apt to make us forget its really in- 
strumental character, and then we seek evidence of our 
ss in an immediate outeome of the 'faculty' we 
have Urn cultivating. So we gauge the worth of our 
teaching by a pupil's easy reproduction of a number of 
statements of facts lie has 'learnt,' by his power to dis- 
sect a flower, by the facility with which he produces a 
design.' Jut wo too often forget to ask whether the 
child who dissects the ilower has also learnt to love and 
admire its beauty, or whether the pupil who makes a 
,11 is also developing a sense of fitness and appropriate- 
to purpose as well as a feeling for symmetry. There 
is, indeed, no necessary antagonism between such results 
in the child's mind, but the latter kind of results are only 
likely to be striven for consciously by the teacher who thinks 
of the value of his teaching in terms of the concrete life of 
the pupils, and not in terms of abstract faculty training. 

Further, a doctrine of abstract faculty training is likely 
to It-ad in practice to a substitution of trivial erudition 
for ivul valuable mental activity; for such 'faculty train- 
in- ' is most obviously carried out by preponderant atten- 
tion to details, especially with the lower faculties of 
observation and memory. It, moreover, tends to a mode 
ichin-.r \\hi.-h defeats its own ends vi/,. an excessive 
f that form of oral teaching in which the teacher guides 
and leads the pupil's thoughts from one detail to another, 
O penilteiltlj that no serious effort is re.|uired to follow 
him. and so minutely that nothing but details are attended 
iiiMn-i- lln-sr remain separate and fail << enler ivally 
into i i iv of Lu..\\ 1, 


In the next place, the doctrine of the ' training of 
faculty ' makes no effort to evaluate the faculties or to deter- 
mine their true part in the concrete mental life. Hence, 
now one faculty and now another becomes fashionable. 
A century ago it was the memory, afterwards the reason 
and understanding ; now-a-days it is the observation to the 
training of which enthusiastic reformers beg us to direct 
our supreme efforts. It is only from an analysis of the 
main relations of the individual to his world, in view of a 
definite conception of the ultimate purpose of his life, that 
there comes an evaluation which makes it clear that in the 
last resort intellectual power is valuable as auxiliary to 
what in the broadest sense of the word we call * moral ' 
functions, and that aesthetic discrimination plays also a 
subordinate part, though one superior on the whole to the 
merely intellectual in that instinctive goodness is rather of 
an aesthetic than of an intellectual character. 

Lastly, the doctrine of faculty training exaggerates the 
importance of the mode of teaching over the matter taught. 
In its most extreme form it has been stated that '< it does 
not matter what you teach: the important thing is how 
you teach it." This would seem to imply that no influence 
is exerted by the environment, and that therefore it does 
not matter in what mental environment a child is placed 
so long as he is active in relation to it. It is assumed 
that the capacity for acting can be divorced from every- 
thing which makes it a real activity; that habit is a 
tendency to do irrespective of what is done. But all this 
is at hopeless variance with fact. 

On the other hand, to take the second abstraction ' value 

as knowledge ' as our test leads to equally 

Knowfedge.' undesirable corollaries. There is, first, a 

tendency to limit ' knowledge ' to information 

about facts, statements of which can be committed to 


memory. Secondly, ;i further tendency to restrict such 
knowledge 1 to what is likely to be immediately useful in 
industrial or professional life. Thirdly, a tendency to 
- tilnate the amount of such 'knowledge' which an 
individual can assimilate. Fourthly, a tendency to attach 
too little importance to the manner in which the know- 
ledge is acquired. Fifthly, a tendency to estimate the 
result of the teaching by the amount of 'knowledge' 
acquired rather than by its nature. And sixthly, a 
tendency to confuse the power to talk about a thing with 
real knowledge of it. 

These tendencies play into each other, and their general 
outcome is the worship of examinations, and the setting up 
of success in exam inations as the real, if not the ostensible, 
aim of the school. The result on the pupils is generally 
disastrous. Nothing fatigues the brain so much as an 
attempt to acquire a large number of unsystematised facts, 
often of no importance in themselves and whose bearing on 
lite and purpose is far from obvious. Hence arise in the 
pupil disgust and a distaste for all intellectual pursuits. 
and as a result no attempt is made by him to render the 
knowledge acquired a permanent possession throughout 
life. Further, there ensues a cultivated habit of attending 
almost or quite exclusively to details in every matter, and 
an inability to see the general bearings of things. 

Neither ' value as discipline' nor 'value as knowledge' 
is, therefore, a sufficient test of educational 
These Values value. Nor can we assume, as Mr. Spencer 
Connected. does, that the two will always coincide. 
Practical skill comes with practice, and 
theoretical considerations are out of place in its appli- 
cation. To think, for example, of the mechanism !' any 
movement whilst making it would interfere with the 
execution of the in. \rm.-nt. which is perfect in proportion 


as it has become automatic. It is, therefore, by no means 
always true that the 'subjects' which offer the best 
gymnastic of the mind are always those which can U> most 
directly applied in practical life; still less that the 
mental attitude towards them is the same. These values 
are not identical; each is a factor in the fuller test we 
have suggested. 

6, Though we have analysed the relations of the in- 
dividual to his world into utilitarian, social. 
cation of^est au( l those which express individual culture. 
to School yet it must be borne in mind both that these 

are mere abstractions if fciken separately, 
and that, as the school is not the only educative agency, 
it may well be that it deals directly with some only of 
these aspects of life. Now, it is evident that many of the 
practical activities of life are best learned, and in many ' 
cases can only be learned, by the actual practice of them. 
This applies particularly to the special skill required in 
many individual trades and occupations, and, as a con- 
sequence, we can dismiss from consideration all such forms 
of knowledge as matter of instruction for tho ordinary 
school. The knowledge required must be gained in actual 
workshops, whether those of ordinary trade or those 
connected with technical schools it does not, in this 
connection, matter. The same remark applies to 
certain social relations, as, for example, those of family 
life, which, so far as they are special modifications 
of general social relations, fall outside the purview of the 
general school. 

It follows from these considerations 

(a) that the preparation for life given in the school is of 
a general rather than of a specific character ; 

(b) that such preparation should supply a basis for umj 
kind of specialised effort later on, and must, therefore,.. 


bring each pupil into relations with each of the great 
t vpical aspects of the world : hence, the curriculum must 
\vide one ; 

(c) that to bring a mind into relation with any aspect 
of the world moans to develop a system of ideas in con- 
nection with that aspect, of such a nature that they 
prompt to forms of activity designed to realise and develop 
them ; 

( // 1 but that, as the amount of such energy and activity 
possible to each individual is limited in amount, all waste 
of it should l>e avoided: in other words, only such know- 
ledge should be presented as can be assimilated, and such 
knowledge should illumine as wide tracts of experience as 
1 >le. 

Of a curriculum as a whole we, therefore, ask : Does it 
instil a lar^e number of fruitful and generous ideas in 
connection with all the types of relations into which the 
pupils are brought in life, and does it so relate and 
organise those ideas that they are in true relation with each 
other and with the life the child has to lead? Similarly, 
of any special factor of the curriculum whether ' subject ' 
or part of subject we ask : Is the matter calculated to 
bring the pupils into closer and truer relations with that 
particular p.ul of their environment, and is it likely to do 
this in an inspiring way; that is, so as to promote a 
nobler and wider outlook on that aspect of life? If the 
answer is favourable, then the knowledge it is proposed to 
impart is both ' useful' in the true sense that it can be 
put to some worthy use in the pupils' lives, and 
'disciplinary' in that it is such as will stimulate and 
occasion appropriate mental activity. 

T these .jiiestions asked of any one piece 

of knowledge would receive very different answers in 
varieties of circumstances due to the character of the 


school and to the age of the pupils. We can, therefore, 
speak of no piece of knowledge as having an absolute 
educational value, or as being a universally important 
instrument of education. 

But if, in answer to such questions, the only reason that 
can be given for teaching any subject or 
Material p ;ir t o f a subject is that it can be applied in 

Curriculum ** tne future to some directly practical and 
material end, or that it is meant as an 
' accomplishment,' that is, some mere conventional orna- 
ment, then there is no justification for the teaching. There 
is neither time nor energy at disposal in school life for 
attaining knowledge which does not widen the outlook 
and develop those qualities of character which lead to the 
true fulfilment of function in life. This is what is meant 
by saying that every true school be it secondary or 
primary gives a ' liberal education.' For a liberal edu- 
cation deals with the necessary and the beautiful, and a 
competent dealing with them leaves no time for the 
narrowly utilitarian or the merely ornamental. 

With at least equal force do such considerations apply 

when the 'directly practical end' is the 
Examinations. . . . ~ 

passing an examination. So tar as the 

selection of the matter of instruction is determined by 
this consideration, and the teaching is directed towards 
this end, the curriculum and the teaching cease to be* 
essentially educative in intention. The true function 
of examinations is to test and to probe. Directly an 
examination is made regulative, the teacher who so accepts 
it delegates the determination of his curriculum to someone 
else, who, ex hypotkesi, does not know the needs of the 
pupils as intimately as the teacher himself does. Of 
course, a curriculum thus externally determined may be a 
good one as a whole, but even then, in the circumstances 


we are considering, it is most likely to be badly used ; that 

. tlif aim of tin- teacher, and consequently of the 

pupils, is likely to be tin- comparatively low one of external 

success. Moreover, surh an externally devised curriculum 

rally imposes a certain lixed amount to be learnt in a 

certain limited time, and it will be fortunate indeed if this 

amount is so well adapted to the school that neither on the 

one hand is time wasted, nor on the other is there haste 

and scramble in the teaching in the attempt to accomplish 

the givi-ll task. 

Further, as a matter of fact, examinations have hitherto 
shown a marked tendency to attach too much importance 
to memory of detail, and that detail very often both trivial 
and obscure. This leads to attention being focussed on 

. and not only does this generate a bad mental habit 
in the pupils, but the curriculum becomes overcrowded; 
not l>ecause ideas are being developed in too many of the 
pupils' relations to the world, but because the development 

ich fruit t'ul ideas is actually being hindered by the 
fixing >f the attention mi a vast number of ' facts,' between 
which the reason can establish no relations, and which, 
therefore, even when acquired, cannot go out beyond 
themselves; -which are not. in a word, illuminating or 
fruitful, and which, consequently, can lead only to mental 

ision and disgust. It is in this that we lind the 

of the great majority of children's 'howlers' which 
are periodically served up for the amusement of the 

7. To lead its pupils into true relations with their world 

is, then, the work of every school in general. 

22on of Test to au( l f whool instruction in particular. \\"\\]\ 

different Types U8 this m-m<. at bottom, to help the pupils 

to iind th.-msrlves at home in the En 
civil ''ii at its 



best in that station of life in which they live. For the 
aim of education is not merely in the distant future of 
adult life. On the contrary it is immediate, and it is only 
by making the present life of its pupils as children a 
worthy one that the school can hope to prepare them for 
a future worthy life as adults. 

All one's relations with one's world are both social 
and individual. As an individual each child has to 
become familiar with the thoughts, actions, and feel- 
ings of the people who surround him. These he can 
understand only in so far as he himself learns to think 
about similar things in a similar way, to evaluate experi- 
ences by a similar standard, and to adopt similar purposes. 
Of course, he is continually doing all this through conscious 
and unconscious imitation^of those around him ; he is learn- 
ing their language, and in doing so is entering into the 
thoughts, feelings, desires, and purposes which that langna g - 
expresses. The function of a school is to make clear, defi- 
nite, and systematic this confused understanding of the 
life surrounding its pupils, and to do this in such a way 
this life is not only entered into, but is made the stepping- 
stone to a higher, wiser, and nobler life. But the life from 
which all fruitful school instruction must start, and in which 
it must find its root, is always the actual life of its pupils. 

Thus, it is obvious that the application of our general 
test would lead to different details of curriculum in 
different classes of schools, the main conditions of differ- 
ence being the character of the actual life of the pupils, 
the age to which most of them remain at school, and the 
broad kind of industrial or professional life which the great 
majority may be expected to live. In every case the pupils 
should be led into relations with all the typical aspects 
of experience, but the detailed studies through which this 
is done must be specially determined in each case, 


broadly, we may say that the problem will re- 
four main typos of answer that of the school which 
retains its pupils to the a-jv of eighteen or nineteen and 
- forward a considerable proportion of them to the 
universities; that of the school whose pupils leave at six- 
>r sev i'n teen years of age and then enter the subordi- 
nati 1 walks of professional life or the higher grades of 
industrial life: that of the primary school whose pupils 
1.; ivt> at about fourteen years of age and enter the lower 
ranks of various industrial occupations ; and that of the 
infant school whose function it is to prepare its pupils 
for either the primary or the secondary school. Each of 
answers requires separate and detailed elaboration, 
and an excellent answer to the problem in one case may 
r rather must be, a very poor answer in each of the 

In this book we limit ourselves to the answer which 

should be given in the case of the primary 

Limitation of school whose pupils range in age from seven 

toVSSwy to fourteen yea. and live in homes which 
School. are not, as a rule, marked by considerable 

culture and refinement. This last considera- 
tiin. iv-jivttal'Ie as it is, must be recognised as a factor 
which lias a profound influence on the teaching, for it fixes 
in- start in-_r-point and it limit s. Ix.tli in this way and by its 
constant influence, the extent to which culture is possible. 
8. \Yht -a we consider in more detail what we mean by 

understanding and entering into the thoughts, 
Determination feelings, and activities of the world around 

lunfof^h^Pri U8 ' we fin<i we must anal j se tn( > 8 e activities 
mary School, to find tin- objects on which they are exer- 
cised. We then see that thoughts are 
;s,-d Cither (.11 men's lives or on tin- physical world; 
tli.t feelings are called out mainly by the personal 


relations of other men to ourselves or to those in whom we 
are interested, or by certain aspects of material things 
which we broadly classify as beautiful or ugly ; and that 
activities are in close relation to thoughts and feelings, for 
they are inspired by purposes which we feel to be of value, 
and of which we can anticipate the realisation and plan 
the accomplishment. To know thoroughly the activities 
of the men of our generation would therefore include in 
itself all that it is possible to learn, for it would embrace all 
existing knowledge. Nothing can go beyond this except 
new discoveries which add to the sum of human know- 
ledge, and, of course, such discoveries play no direct part in 
the life of the primary school. It is true that the school 
cannot set before itself as the aim of its instruction an 
attempt to cover all departments of human knowledge. 
But it must consider the broad nature of them all in order 
that no typical aspect of human experience or form of 
human activity may be omitted. 

Attempting this, we see that in order to enter into 

men's lives at all a knowledge of language 
Language * s essent i a l- The first function of the school 

is, then, the cultivation of language. In 
the primary school this is necessarily confined to the 
mother tongue. To help its pupils to understand, to speak 
nii'l to write the mother tongue is, therefore, one of the 
school's most important tasks. 

In the next place, we need to extend the pupils' 

knowledge of what men think and do far 
Literature, beyond the narrow confines of their indi- 
Sociaf 7 ' ai vidual lives, and the great means of such 
Geography. extension are literature, history, and that 

description of the lives of foreign peoples 
which may be called social geography. Some amount of 
ethical analysis of conduct will naturally find its place here. 


In tin- third plan-, men think <>!' the material world and 
adapt it to their needs. To enter into the 
* ^ e arouu( i hi 111 the pupil must, therefore, 

study the natural world, and the relations 

>t natural objects and forces to each other. With pupils 

<>ung as those of the primary school this study 

an not be very deep. The course of nature is too 
c< implex i'r a child of fourteen to be able to unravel 
much >f it, but some general ideas of the meaning of 
nature and of the lives of plants and animals should 

Of course, that important aspect of natural things 

which we rail cmantity must receive at- 
Mathematics. . . J . _ 

tent ion, so some elementary knowledge oi 

mat hematics will l>e included. 

Further, the aesthetic aspect of things must not be 

neglected. Nature offers much of beauty, 

Dravrine etc an '^ 1U:IU ^ ias P ro( luced niueh more; and the 

influence of beauty is very real in the world 

"i to-day, if, perhaps, less conspicuous than it has been 

in >onie past times. To train appreciation of beauty 

is. ti part of the work of the school. Indeed, in 

ise of the primary school it is a factor of the greatest 

importance, for in no sphere has the school to supplement 

tli- deli.-ienrirs .if tin- home more than in this. Sonic 

cultivation ..f music and of at lea>t one of tin- arts which 

aim at U-auty in f,,nu should, therefore, enter into the 


Lastly, the pupils must jjvt an insight by vari-u> 
Ha d ft manual occupations into the primary \\a\- 
in which man adapts natural objects to 
tainm.-nt of his purposes. 

broad -n.iip. imi>t I,,- .'iitial 

constituents of any \\..rtliy cun-iculinn. Hut the ti! 


of each group, and the relative emphasis laid on each, 
may well vary from school to school. The out of 
school lives of the pupils would influence the 
Variations in choice. Thus, a town school would not 
Different 8 On nave a curriculum identical with that of a 
Groups. rural school. In the latter some form of 

school gardening might occupy part of the 
time given to book learning in the former. For such a 
subject would not only be in more direct relation with the 
out of school lives of the pupils in the present, but would 
tend to develop in them tastes and aptitudes for the 
pursuit of which a country life furnished facilities. On 
the other hand, the public libraries in the towns present 
means for continuing literary culture which are absent 
in the country, whilst the opportunities for gardening 
are frequently small. This factor of choice involved 
in the likelihood of means for developing during leisure 
hours in the future a form of activity for which a taste 
has been acquired in the school is one much neglected, but 
none the less important. 

Similarly, a town school, whose pupils come from ex- 
tremely poor and uncultured homes, might profitably 
devote a larger amount of time to various forms of 
handicraft than one whose pupils live amidst surround- 
ings of a more in'ellectual character. For in this way 
the children would more easily see some value in schooling, 
and so would throw themselves into it more heartily. Nor 
must it be forgotten that appreciation of productive labour 
is the first step in civilisation. 

A further cause of variation may be found in the en- 
thusiasms and tastes of the teacher. Everyone teaches 
most effectively that which he knows and likes best, and 
hence it is quite legitimate for a teacher to prefer to put 
his own pet subject into the curriculum, provided it be 


iu- of uviirral interest, rather than some other in the 
be general group. 

It is evident, then, that though the State or the local 
community lias the right to demand that the schools 
through which its educative efforts are brought to bear on 
tlif children should adopt a curriculum of a certain broad 
and general character, yet the actual filling of the 
rol scheme should be left to the teacher. In towns, 
at any rate, freedom of choice between schools with 
s- .mi -what different courses of study would also leave 
scope for the satisfaction of varying aims and desires on 
th part of the parents. But when either the State or 
th> local education authority imposes a rigid syllabus 
upon the schools under its care the liberty of both parents 
ami teachers is unjustifiably curtailed, and in many cases 
a .lead mechanism is substituted for a living and fruitful 
human activity. 

Of course, every actual determination of a curriculum is 
largely influenced by school tradition. In 

Tradition f tllis tradition we nave the expression of the 
scholastic experience of the past, and we can 
j udge its results both as to their actual value and as to 
their suitability to the conditions of the present. For it is 
>iily as conditions of life change that educative organisa- 
tions and instruments which have been successful in the 
past need to U- modified. Kvery good curriculum, there- 
tab's iij. int< itM-lf all the elements of a traditional 
curriculum that have justified their inclusion, though in 
'Li')- them it may modify th.-m l. a greater <>r less 
extent. In other words, school reform is always reforma- 
tion. iM-ver revolution. It is not, therefore, surprising 
that the evolution of the course of study gem-rally jii< 

!>] to a primary school has in practice approached 
the n-sults to whi'-h \ve have been led ' 


theoretical analysis of the main forms of relation to man 
and nature into which the school should try to lead its 
pupils. English Language and Literature, Music, History, 
G-eography, Nature Knowledge, Mathematics, Art and 
Handicraft, are now commonly acknowledged to be 
essential constituents of a liberal primary education, 
and not alternatives, as they were regarded only a 
few years ago. To this result the mere development 
of tradition by experience might, however, have been 
long in coming had not the progress been accelerated 
by such theoretical considerations as those we have 

Yet the battle for a liberal education in the primary 
school is not altogether won. The ' subjects,' indeed, are 
generally included, but too often a wrong attitude of 
mind towards them is adopted by all concerned by legis- 
lators, inspectors, teachers, and pupils. The old tradition 
that knowledge is erudition and is distinct from practice 
has in too many cases not been modified by the truer 
doctrine that real knowledge includes in itself effective 
practice. So, though the 'subjects' are taken in school 
lessons, they are treated in only one of their aspects : 
those which increase the store of ideas are regarded 
as serving that function only ; those which involve practical 
aptitudes as training them only. But the curriculum, 
as we have outlined it, is not really adopted unless 
reception of idea and carrying out of idea always #> 
hand in hand. In every instance in which this is not 
secured no effective relation is established between the 
pupil and that particular part of his physical or mental 

9. Such a curriculum as has been sketched must be 
acknowledged to make unduly heavy demands on the 
teacher if the same person is expected to teach effectively 


all the subjects it includes. Indeed, \ve may 1:0 further 
and assert that such an expectation is nearly certainly 
doomed to disappointment. It is not that every teacher 
U ilisation of oll n n ^ ll ^ t n ave some knowledge of each 
Special Know- subject: that is involved in the claim that 
ledge of every scholar should study them, for t he- 

teacher is first a scholar. But this general 
knowledge is quite inadequate for stimulating and fruit- 
ful teaching. No one can do good educative work in 
any subject of which his knowledge is not copious, and 
for which lie lias not a real liking, if not an actual en- 
thusiasm. And no one can have a stimulating enthusiasm 

Unhappily, the t radition that every primary teacher should 

!i every subject taught in his class a tradition dating 

from tlie time when the 'three R's' formed the whole 

curriculum still holds sway in the majority of schools. 

It there prevails a grievously low estimate of the 

amount of pertinent and special knowledge which must be 

brought to bear on every lesson to make it effective. The 

inevitable n-Milt is the very common failure to awaken any 

real love of learning amongst the pupils. Nothing is more 

<>!>. ious to the thoughtful observer than that the teaching 

in a primary school will be wanting in effectiveness and 

long as the fullest use is not made of any special 

knowledge, enthusiasm, or aptitude which may exist amon- 

t!i. i ! i . i ii bers of its teaching staff. 

Surely the time has come when it should be recognised 
that the ideal of knowledi:*' for tin- Kurdish primary 
teach longer to be "Jack of all trades and master 

"t' none." He should at least be master of <m<; and should 
have acquired such an appreciat ion of the t rue relat i<>n of 
knowledge to teaching as ,i D itt-rin^ of many 

tacan uev.-r -ive. 


10. Having laid down the broad and general con- 
tents of a satisfactory scheme of primary 
stll(1 y we have next to consider the general 
Instruction. principles on which the matter contained 
under these general heads should be arranged. 
Here we have obviously two inquiries one as to the 
arrangement of subject-matter within each separate 'sub- 
ject,' and the other as to the relation of the contents of 
one subject to those of another. The former is essentially 
a question of 'Method' and will be dealt with in the 
next chapter. The latter concerns us here. For it raises 
tin- question whether in choosing what we shall teach in 
any one subject we should be guided by considerations of 
what is being taught to the same pupils in other subjects, 
and if so to what extent. 

On this point ;i doctrine, imported from Germany, 
seems to IK- becoming fashionable in books, 

ono if Uot in the scllools tn emselves. It is 

Studies.' kno\\n as 'Concentration of Studies,' and 

its main feature is that in every class 
one special subject should be chosen as the ' core ' of 
instruction, and all other subjects should be grouped 
round it and brought into as obvious relations as 
possible with it. For example, a favourite 'core' for 
children about ten years of age is Robinson Crusoe. On this 
scheme the children would read the book, write composi- 
tion exercises based upon it, sing songs about Cru> 
life, draw various objects mentioned in the book, connect 
their geography with Crusoe's island, work sums expressed 
in terms of Crusoe's productions and occupations, and so 
on. Crusoe would appear as persistently in the lessons as 
King Charles's head did in Mr. Dick's literary productions. 
A scheme of this kind appears fantastic enough at first 
sight, nor does further acquaintance lead to a higher 

MAT i :i; i A i. OF INSTRUCTION. 43 

i 'pinion of its wisdom. It is, indeed, a somewhat pe- 
dant ic attempt to apply to teaching a mechanical inter- 
pretation of Herbart's conception of the nature of mind. 
ding to this theory, mind consists of its ideas, 
and its i<leas are the result of its interaction with the 
world around it. This has been interpreted to imply that 
a mind can l*i built up by putting before it ideas, as one 
In lib Is a 1 louse by putting together bricks, and that its 
form and nature will be as much determined by those 
ideas and tlieir connections as a, house is by the form and 
arrangement of the bricks of which it is composed. Hence, 
a unitied mind will be one whose ideas are all connected 
with each other. This connection is called the ' circle of 

Such an interpretation finds no place for the active 

nj;s and strivings of the mind, but reduces its 

activity TM the reception of ideas. Whether this is the 

true interpretation of Herbart's not too lucid exposition of 

his doctrine does not here concern us. But it is obvious 

that it is a some\vliat violent proceeding to infer from this 

that the 'circle of thought " out of which the will is sup- 

.111:. and which it is, therefore, the aim of 

11 elucative effort to form, can l>e determined 

scho..l Ir.n8. Even if we granted that ideas 

form the mind, yet we must not forget that there are many 

i.ften un>usp-ct.'d by the tojU'lier, through which 

- reach the mind. No matter how can-fully the teacher 

A.-ave such ideas into the 'circle of thought' he 

tinu f to f.. rm,* he can never be satisfied that there 

\ln-iv a break in the circumference which 

M'.-ils futile. 

il. all this i- incidental. The essential error of t he 

the assumption that human life can !> built up 

.and its form and tendency determined by 


;in artificial arrangement by another of the ideas it is to 
assimilate. The real unity of every life is a unity of 
purpose, just as the essence of life is the seeking means to 
carry out its purposes. Now, unity of purpose is a gradual 
attainment : no one ever fully reaches it, and most people 
approach but little way towards it. Even with the wisest 
of men a wholly systeniatised life is rather an ideal of 
thought and aspiration than a reality of experience. As 
this is so, it is evidently futile to attempt to force on the 
young a unification of life for which they are of necessity 
unprepared. The young naturally apprehend the world in 
fragments, as their impulses and purposes lead them to 
deal with it. It is only gradually that this fragmentary 
apprehension becomes dominated by the conception of law 
and uniformity, and the passage from this stage of under- 
standing the world to that in which it is regarded as a 
systematic whole is one which comes later still. 1 A true 
system of teaching must take account of this natural order 
of mental growth, and, consequently, will not seek to 
impose on the child a premature unification. In short, in 
any rational meaning of the words, a ' circle of thought ' 
is neither possible nor desirable for the young even if that 
'circle' were the origin of the will, and not rather developed 
by and through the operations of will, so that it is the 
concrete form in which the activities of will are gradually 

Further, a scheme of study arranged on the ' Concen- 
tration ' plan must obviously disregard any natural order 
of development which any subject, save that which forms 
the ' core,' may demand. In many subjects, such as his- 
tory, mathematics and art, there is a more or less fixed ordrr 
of learning, and consequently of teaching, demanded by the 
subject itself, and if this is not followed a real set of 
1 See Welton, Logical Bases of Education, Chap. I. 


relations within the subject is sacrificed to a more or less 
artificial set established arbitrarily between that subject 
and others. Moreover, as the 'core' is changed year by 
\v:ir, tin* 'circle of thought' would seem to be continually 
reconstit uted round a new centre. So impracticable, indeed, 
does tin* scheme soon become that even its most ardent advo- 
cates have never succeeded in applying it to the higher forms 
in a secondary school. Yet were the scheme based on a 
true psychological and logical theory its applicability would 
me easier as the pupils advance in knowledge; for 
such advance is before all else advance in systeniatisation 
and unification, and such unification is the very thing 
* concent rat ion' aims at accomplishing. But, as -a matter 
i. as the pupils attain a fuller and really logical 
unity in their i n -iital contents, the artificial and mechanical 
unity aimed at by 'concentration' more and more com- 
pletely breaks down. 

We must, then, reject the doctrine of 'concentration' 

as pedantic, artificial, and illusory. At the 

Correlation of same ti me we must claim that, as the aim of 

Knowledge. teaching is to lead the young to grasp the 

general relations of things about them, we 

M make prominent in ( .ur teaching real relations of 

with fact and <>t' i<lea with i<lea. In this way we shall 

make -subject' help 'subject.' For it must be rein-'iii- 

1 that the division of knowledge into 'subjects' is 

iiicial device enabling men to specialise their 

if no corresponding division between 

nts of the world, and every human purpose in its 

fulfilment tivM.-i,rs on the domain of many 'sulj. 

tln.u-.rh the purpose itself may be confined to one. 

>ol work is to correspond with real life it must 

n't 1 walls of demarcation between the various 

:enial and physical aclmu.l.iit mn-t encourage 


the learning process to draw together all pertinent 
material, and to find scope in as many ways as possible. 
Thus, history and geography will always be studied hand 
in hand, composition will find its materials in the content 
of other studies and in the out of school life, drawing and 
modelling will be called in to help nature study by that more 
definite apprehension of form which an attempt to reproduce 
it ensures. Nor will such correlation be confined to stud irs 
simultaneously pursued ; every available piece of life and 
knowledge should be drawn into the net. In short, all 
modes of appropriate learning activity will be called into play 
by every piece of teaching, and in this way will be secured 
the only valuable correlation of studies that which estab- 
lishes relations of which the learning mind has found 1h<> 
necessity or the advantage. Of course, such apprehension 
of relations becomes fuller and wider as knowledge ad- 
vances, for each accomplished purpose is the starting- 
point for fresh efforts and new conquests. 

One other point remains to be noticed. It is evident 
that as the pupils advance in knowledge and 

Construction power the material of their instruction sh< mid 

of the Time- 

Table. develop in depth and scope. In the early 

stages much time must, of necessity, be given 
to the acquirement of facility in using the tools of learning, 
but as mastery is acquired these tools should be put to a 
real use. The school Las no time to spend in " grinding 
air." Hence, in the lower classes considerable attention 
must be given to the acquirement of the mechanical 
power of reading, writing, and spelling, and to mastery 
of the elements of computation. But as soon as a pupil 
can use freely these instruments of learning, merely formal 
drill in them should be replaced by application to real 
processes of learning. In the upper classes there is no 
place for formal writing or spelling lessons, nor for reading 


us whose sole aim is the development of the me- 
chanical power of expressing printed symbols by spoken 
words. Practice in the arts of reading and writing is, 
indeed, still needed, but it should be obtained through 
ling and writing matter which, on account of the ideas 
expressed, is worthy of attention. A Time-Table should, 
therefore, show a gradual decrease in the amount of time 
given to drill in the use of the tools of learning till such 
drill disappears altogether, and a corresponding increase in 
that devoted to the study of material which is in itself, and 
f its contents, of value in the culture of the mind. 



1. A WELL chosen and well arranged course of study 
increases, and, to some extent, determines, 
Test of the the opportunities of the pupil to enter into 
Teaching. fruitful relations with the world iu which lie 

has to live. But his education thereby is 
secured only so far as he avails himself of those oppor- 
tunities. In a very true sense all real education 
is self-education, and all learning is by doing. E;i<-h 
individual pupil must, by his own effort, relate himself to 
his environment. This implies that he sees how he can 
utilise this or that thing, event, piece of knowledge, idea, 
skill, or whatever it may be to attain some desired end 
or to carry out some cherished purpose. It is the 
very essence of effective teaching to awaken desire 
and to evoke purpose. All teaching must, indeed, be 
judged by the test of how far it succeeds in promoting 
persevering effort on the part of the pupil to put himself 
into such relations with his surroundings as the teacher 

Whilst the pupil is a child his activity is largely per- 
ceptual, or concerned with the material things 
Activit, tUal which surround him, and with their more 
obvious relations to himself, either as giving 
him some pleasure of taste, or sight, or hearing, or feeling. 
or of furthering or hindering some form of his physical 



activity. In these early years, then, he learns largely 
through physical activity of hand and eye and car ami 
Hen.-,-, uood teaching of young children appeals iu 
all suitable cases and ways to the physical activity of each 
pupil, which it so directs ami organises that the child is 
led to become familiar with many relations between 
himself and the material world around him. But it must 
1 K remembered that perceptual activity is not confined to 
the use of the hands and eyes in dealing with given material 
objects. Such activity is equally called into play when in 
speaking, or writing, or drawing, or modelling, a child re- 
produces his remembrance of the things he has perceived, 
or his idea of things of which he has heard. Some form of 
n -product ion, therefore, should form a part of every piece 
of teaching through the child's perceptual activity. 

But at no time in school life is a child's activity 
solely perceptual. In other words, he con- 

cem{ * himself uot onl J with tllin - s and their 
perceived relations in space, but also with 

their more hidden relations of causation and purpose, 
soon as a child begins to ask the 'why' and the 
how ' of tilings we may be sure that he has passed 
beyond the merely perceptual stage, and this generallx 
take> plav not later than his fifth year. ly the time he 
enters the primary school his perceptual activity is in- 
separably united with a conceptual activity of thought 
which aim- ;it establishing relations v\hi<-h in their very 
essence are general. Not that the child consciously and 
deliberately generalises, but that his interest passes bey ond 

the ,,bject> |x>rceived ! relati'-ns !' cause and purpose 
\\liich, when onco grasped, are applied unhesitatingly to 
other instances. Such conceptual generalisation is as 
n. i? ur i i and as spontaneous as is the perception of 
1ate In each rase the mental J.PM-, 



liable to error, and a teacher's guidance is, therefore, valu- 
able so long as the temptation to perceive or to think for 
1 IK- child, and to impart to him a form of words embodying 
the results of the teacher's activity, is resisted. A teacher 
can no more perform for his pupils the functions of mental 
assimilation than those of physical digestion. He can, by 
much insistence, cause certain labels of information to 
adhere for a time though, alas ! they sometimes get woe- 
fully displaced and confused; but this 110 more feeds, 
trains, or develops the mind than covering tin 1 body with 
adhesive postage stamps would nourish or exercise it. 

Teaching, therefore, does not properly exercise the 
activity of any normal child of school age when it 
confines his activity to various forms of physical doing, 
and leaves undirected, and therefore uneducated, tlir n (un- 
important mental activity in which his thought seeks for 
relations between things. With some children, no doubt, 
this thought goes on nevertheless, and in the case of the 
better minds it in time attains its goal. But there are 
children averse from mental activity, as there are those 
who are physically lazy, and with these the very essence of 
effective teaching is absent unless they are stimulate 1 t<-> 
ask ' why ? ' and ' how ? ' and to seek answers to those 

Further, it is only so far as general relations are grasped 
that individual things or facts can be wrought into any 
purpose whose accomplishment is not in the immediate 
present. A boy may climb a tree by merely perceiving the 
space relations of branches and trunk and the various 
inequalities of surface they present, and apprehending 
much less consciously the relations of strength to pressure 
which render one possible foothold secure and another 
dangerous. But if he desires to do something whos** 
accomplishment is more distant he has to plan the 


HUMUS to attain his purpose, and such planning involves 
tin 1 conception of various -viicm! and uniform relations. 
l'-r example, a boy desiring to become a good howler in 
cricket practice- much ; but in all such practice lie is 
gradually stuhlishing in his mind general relations be- 
i certain modes of delivering the ball, certain con- 
ditions of the wicket, and certain results, and the whole 
is dominated by the general idea that skill can only 
through much practice. Or if he desires to produce 
some more tangible result than skill in bowling, say to 
make a toy yacht, he must apprehend and apply many 
val relations which when abstractly stated we call the 
laws >f physics. No doubt, in all such cases the general 
relation is found and utilised in the particular example, so 
Ion-.; as the process is a familiar one or one which can be 
imitated from another. But the power to detach the 
_reneral relation from its familiar embodiment and to apply 
it to new conditions is shown whenever an adaptation to 
different riivumstanees is made. 

Whatever its form, every activity which is worth any- 

thin-' in life is marked, not onlv bv an 

Perseverance. * * 

immediate effort put forth, but by persever- 
ance even in the face of obstacles. Hence, teaching 
which aims simply at the present, and is satisfied by 
winning the ' attention ' of the pupils and exciting their 
1 interest ' by various attractive devices, is of the smallest 
educative value. Indeed, there is in such cases neither 
tnu- attention n,,r true interest, for the essence of l>tli is 
pennmenoe ' direction in effort. In such lessons the 
pupils may IK? * interested ' in the common but inaccurate 
sense <>f b.-inu r pltMsurably excited, but not in the true an- 1 
.duc,tti\c MOM of IMMMU' inspired with a purpose to know 
do. Without inspiration of purpose then- ,-aii be no 

i it \ . tor n..ti . ieadfl Hie pupil t.. 


put forth persevering effort to attain a result in which he 
is interested, that is, which he feels to be of value. It 
follows that in effective teaching the pupils both kn>w and 
desire the object the teaching is intended to attain. It 
may be true that not every pupil will be led to desire 
every piece of knowledge or every form of skill the 
teacher places within his reach, but it is certainly the 
case that no such desire can be evoked in any pupil 
who does not know what the teaching is meant to ac- 
complish. To evoke desire without indicating anticipate 1 
effect is impossible. 

The test of all teaching is, then, the extent to whicli it 
evokes purpose, and so excites and directs the fullest 
activity of thought of which the pupils are capable 
towards the accomplishment of that purpose. 

2. This implies that effective teaching is methodical, 
for method is not a dead arrangement of 
fa ts m a teaclier ' s note-book, but a living 
Method, process of thought in the pupil's mind, by 

which he advances towards a definite end 
along the best and most effective way. Methodical teach- 
ing is that which Kocures methodical learning. The 
teacher is like a guide, and the pupil like a travel lei- in an 
unknown country. The traveller kn<>ws where he wants to 
go, but knows neither the way imr the exact character of 
the place he wishes to reach. The guide knows both, 
and plans the journey so as to set out from where the 
traveller now is and to reach where he desires to be, and 
that by the best way. Such plotting out of the journey is 
analogous to the teacher's laying down his course of 
instruction in any subject with its order of topics and 
arrangement of matter. But unless the traveller that is 
the pupil take the journey himself, nothing is accom- 
plished. Many a lesson is too much like a guide describing 


tin* journey to the would-l>c traveller, who sits ami listens 
lut does not leave liis chair to undertake it. In other 
lessons thf u'uido himself laboriously takes the journey 
again ami again, Imt the traveller that should be remains 
iiu-rt. In short, no matter how admirably a lesson is 
planned, there is no really niethoiliral teaching unless the 
pupils ly their own efforts ]>ass along the road traced 
for them: for. as has been said, true teaching is nothing 
l>ut arousing and directing the learning activity of 

The first step in effective teaching is, then, to take the 
pupils into working partnership in the process, 
to let them see as far as they can why they 

try to learn this or that. Of course, it is not meant 
that the teacher should put before his pupils an abstract 
snout of the l^eneficial results he hopes and expects 
his teaching to have. That would defeat his own object, 
'meiit would not appeal at all to the young. 
P.ut he should endeavour to make his pupils see that the 
new knowledge or skill will ho of some worth to Iheni, in 
that it will help them to understand and to do things 
!i understanding and doing. This is not so hard as it 
w.mld be were children not, as a rule, keen to loam how to 
do what they see other> do. and to understand uhat is 
understood by those around them. This wish to put 
tlii'inselvrs on a par with others is in itself a spur to effort 
from which tin- learning process may start, and to which 
the t-a-her may explicitly or Implicitly appeal. When 
once th- made, the growing skill r knowle.l^e 

,i propulsive t'oivr, BO that the will to in- 
r, if only the -kill oi- 
ly utilised and appli- I n us 

ie-jiiired, in ffayfl Of \\hich ihe pupil can ap 


Of course, teacher and pupil are in very different 
relations to the end sought. The teacher knows it clearly 
and definitely. But in the pupil's mind the end is 
relatively vague and indeterminate. It is desired, because 
it is connected with relations already known and whose 
value has been proved, and because it is looked upon as a 
further step in the attainment of some desired form of 
knowledge or skill. The teacher, for example, may inspire 
a pupil with the desire to know how to make a kite, or to 
swim, or to be able to speak and read French. But the 
very fact that such things are objects of desire ini]>!ir> 
that they are not yet attained. Hence the learner's appre- 
hension of the end to be sought is necessarily vague and 
indeterminate. This vagueness is greater in some cases 
than in others, and, speaking generally, it may be said 
that the younger the learner the less is the amount of 
vagueness which is compatible with the rousing of de- 
sire. Unless, however, the teacher's apprehension of the 
end sought is in every case clear and determinate, his 
teaching must lack both point and method. Either the 
end will not be attained under his guidance, or if it is nnuv 
or less accidentally reached it will be only after much 
wandering by the way. 

This leads us to the second characteristic of good method 
that the effort excited by the desire to 
attain a particular end should be so sus- 
tained and utilised that as little as |><>ssil>]r 
of it is wasted. Waste of effort may obviously result 
either from starting from the wrong point or from 
wandering by the way. The b^imiing of a j.i.-cr of 
teaching should, therefore, m:ik i Hie fullest use of what 
the pupil has already acquired, without assuming llmsr 
acquirements to be greater than th<>\ really are, and should 
then go on regularly and continuously towards the end in 


view. There is thus laid down for the pupil the direct 
path along which his thoughts should travel. 

Having, then, set an aim before the pupil and inspired 
him with a desire to attain it, the next 

Sni essential is that the learning process should 

begin promptly. Particularly is this the 

with young children who can look but a very short 

way ahead, and whose attention even when aroused is 

easily diverted into other channels. A teacher may easily 

< la nip tin 1 interest excited by his indication of the object 

of the proposed teaching by floundering about at the be- 

iriimiiiir like a racehorse making a number of false 


There are two very common forms of such floundering. 
is the traditional 'introduction' to a lesson, which 
usually consists in an endeavour to 'elicit' from the 
pupils a verbal statement of the subject of the lesson, 
carefully hidden in the teacher's mind. Such a beginning 
violates both the essentials of good method we have 
considered felt purpose and definite start. The teacher 
a vague question in the hope that amongst the guesses 
of the pupils the name of the subject on which he intends 
to speak may le l'oun<1. When it is, he is satisfied anl 
U-lieves he has cxcit<-.l the self -activity of the pupils. For 
example, a teacher once began a lesson by ask in- the pupils 
What did you have for breakfast?" Of course he got 
do/, -us of answers, but not the one he wanted, so after 
some ten minutes he exclaimed with some heat, " Well, you 
nn,jl,t t<> have had coffee!" for coffee was the subject of 
his lesson. NOW. it' such an Instance i- considered, il will 
be wen that in addition t<> the waste of time involved tin To 
WES nothing l.ut dissipation <>f the pupils' attention. ,.p 
rath.T th- no real attention at all. for there \\as no 

1 to advance in any definite direction. Moivo\er. 


had the word 'coffee' been among the Jmpils' answers 
nothing would have been gained. The mental process in 
reaching that answer would have been exactly the same 
as in reaching the uiidesired answers mere guessing 
and of no more worth. The excitement of guessing which 
such a mode of beginning a lesson arouses is too often 
mistaken for what is really the exact opposite of it true 
educative interest. The latter implies effort to reach a 
desired end ; the former has no end to seek. 

The second common mode of wasting time and of lulling 
to sleep any interest which may have been raised by a 
clear statement of the purpose of the teaching is an over- 
elaborate ' preparation ' of the pupils' minds to receive the 
teaching. In this, the teacher questions the class so as to 
bring forth everything known which bears in any way on 
any part of the lesson. Time and energy are thus wasted 
in the hope of avoiding such waste in the future. 
But even this is not necessarily assured, for the class lias 
not one mind, but many minds, and the 'preparation' is 
unlikely to have been equally effective with all. Moreover, 
by wandering all over the proposed lesson so as to get the 
relations of each part ready before the teaching is begun, the 
attention of the pupils is hindered from advancing. The 
attitude of mind evoked is often not very different from 
that induced in the former case, and there is at best a im-iv 
marking of time. And marking time mentally is as ineffec- 
tive and as tedious as doing it bodily : no process is more 
capable of deadening true interest and destroying incipient 

Let the teacher, then, having so placed his object before 
his pupils as to rouse in them the desire to make the at- 
tainment of that object their own, as briefly and concisely 
as possible pick up the thread of knowledge and get the 
pupils into the line of thought which leads from their 


present acquirements to the new eiid. The better the 

teacher knows his class the more accurately ami <jiiickl\ 
can he do this. When his class is strange to him, lie 
may IK> aided by the experience of the previous tea -In T, but 
in n<> ruse ran his start be as sure or as sharp as when he 
i- teaching pupils he knows. In both cases it is obvious 
that this starting-point must IK) known ln>fore the plan- 
ning <>f the lesson can be profitably lHgun. It is this 
determination of the starting-point, this power of putting 
oneself in the mental place and attitude of the pupils, 
that marks off the true artist in teaching from the mere 
mechanical grinder of facts and formulae. To know where 
the pupils are and where they should tiy to be are the two 
first essentials of good teaching. 

But to avoid waste of time and energy at the beginning 
of the lesson is only half the battle. Good 
' teaching also avoids such waste in the pas- 
Skill is here required in keeping the pupils to the 
riirlit path without ham] wring that free self-activity in 
learning which it is the essence of good teaching to pro- 
mote. There can be little hope of success unless the 
teacher has previously plotted out the matter of in- 
>t ruction, first under general topics, then into lesser 
portions, till he has iva -lied the smallest steps of in- 
dividual lessons. These divisions must follow one from 
the ..ther. so as gradually to I mi Id up a systematic whole ,.f 
knowledge or an organised habit of skill. This is a logical 
-lion, in the broad acceptat ion of that term. 

Having thus plotted out the scheme of instruction the 
teacher must next consider how the pupils with whom he 
fcO deal can 1 * led to assimilate this system of know- 
led-- quire tin- organised skill. Tin- iir>t e ential 

apportion the amount t 1 >e nia-toivd in . <\\ to 

the capacity of the pupils tOO much means IHIITV, 


and, as a probable result, those sham lessons in whiqji the 
teacher travels through the matter, but the pupils do not. 
If too little is planned, there is not only the actual waste 
of time, but the probability of deadening interest in the 
subject as a whole, and of cultivating a habit of menial 
inertia which is one of the saddest products of 
the school. This question of amount is, of course, a 
psychological one, but it must be decided by familiarity 
with particular children, not on general psychological 

In the next place, the teacher must consider how these 

particular pupils can most effectively be 1-| 
Stimulation of , , , 1 a i 

Learning. " t** 8 the mental steps desired, and the 

answer to this will, of course, vary with every 
lesson. This part of the teacher's preparation for his teach- 
ing is also psychological, for he has first to ask himself what 
form of mental effort is needed, and then k> consider IHMV 
lu 1 may stimulate that effort. Yet, no matter how carefully 
all this may have been thought over beforehand, the true 
teacher is always ready to adopt other means which may sug- 
gest themselves of prompting his pupils to the right form 
of effort. He must keep in mind the direction their thoughts 
should take, and when he sees a tendency to diver- < into 
side issues, set them again in the right path by suggesting 
a line of thought which leads back to the main track if 
the divergence has not been serious, or by stopping short 
and reminding them of the original purpose of the lesson 
if it has been. Of course, this latter event shows that 
the teacher has followed the pupils' lead somewhat blindly, 
but such cases will occasionally happen, and then the best 
thing is to return as soon as possible. This wandering 
by the way, which is a marked feature of most con\<-rs i- 
tions, is more likely to occur in conversational lessons than 
in any other. It is most mischievous in lessons wlik-li 


develop a line of reasoning, and in these the teacher must 
be specially on his guard to avoid it; but in lessons whose 
aim is t<> increase knowledge of some object which has 
many features worthy of notice, a less rigid line of advance 
is demanded, and a lesson should not be condemned as 
desultory and wandering because it does not treat these in 
any special order, but only if it neglects to bring all the 
items into true relation to each other and to the whole. 

The educational object of arranging the matter of 
instruction is that the pupils' minds in assimilating it may 
develop a systematic whole, and may be aided in putting 
forth real attentive effort. There are many obstacles which 
a good teacher will leave his pupils to overcome for them- 
selves, but the task of arranging the subject-matter of 
learning is a difficulty which must not be left to them to 
deal with, for it is one which can only be properly mastered 
when the whole which is to be arranged is known. This, 
then, is pre-eminently the teacher's work. To leave the child 
to discover everything for himself without guidance would 
! an absurd and fatal blunder; but equally absurd and fatal 
i- it to do the lessons in his presence and only demand his 
acquiescence. Nearly as fatal is it to attempt to remove all 
from his path. When the teacher is always 
at han 1 to tell, to surest, to question, the pupil learns 
to rely on him for the solution of every diiliciilty im- 
iiH'liileiy it presents itself; and not bein^ trained to attention, he never realises the idea of method 
and .rin- effort, for he never sees more than the 

one st-p he is actually taking- He Marts with a purpose. 
Jerh;ips. but he ! : ,t of it ill following the too 

minute instructions of his teacher. He i< like a blind 

'!> alo||.r ;, n,.,, |. M ,,t L\ Weillg \\here he j , 

. l-iit l'\ planting eacfc ..rdinu- to the detailed 

in>tru<-li"M- ..!' another. Children, like men and \\oiiini. 


must work out their own intellectual salvation, ami they 
cannot do this unless they are largely left alone to grapple 
with their own giants and to overthrow them. 

Methodical teaching, therefore, means the promotion of 
methodical learning, that is of concentrated persevering 
effort directed towards the attainment of a felt purpose 
and guided in general direction, but in no case replaced, 1\ 
the more copious knowledge and more fully developed 
power of the teacher. 

Where teaching lias exhibited the characteristics of good 
method just considered, the final mark of 
effectiveness is not hard to secure. Effec- 
tive teaching implies effective learning, that 
is, the development of some form of power. Such increase 
of power may be shown in greater ability to understand 
certain aspects of the world, in greater skill in doing this 
or that, in deeper sympathy with the good, in fuller 
appreciation of beauty, indeed, in any enrichment of tin- 
life of the pupils. Kach piece of teaching deals with some 
kind <>f relation l>et\veen the pupils and their world, and 
it is effective just so far as it helps them to deal better with 
that class of relations in the present and in the future. 

It is obvious, then, tint the success of much of 
the most important teaching cannot be gauged at all 
by the pupils' power to talk about its subject-matter. 
This is an age of talk, and many people seem to 
think that to give children power to talk implies 
the development of capacity to do. The success of 
lessons on health has been judged by the worth of 
essays on various parts of the subject written by the 
pupils. Rut an excellent essay on cleanliness, written 
by a boy who has neglected to clean himself, is certainlv 
no proof of effective teach in-;. In short, the test of 
effectiveness must be appropriate to the matter tested. 


Tlii Jta thai tin- methods of securing effectiveness 

will be various. When new information has been im- 
|.arU'<l, th' Eruitfulnesa of the learning is shown by the 
p.iwrr to reproduce tin' essential 1'catures of it in a rational 
connection, and ly tin- will as well as the power to use 
this acquired kiiuwlelge as the basis of further advance: 
to such organisation ami application of knowledge the 
tea- -her must try to lead his pupils. When the teaching 
has aimed chiefly at increasing the imderstanding of matter 
already familiar, its success is shown by the clearness 
and act-lira <- y of the explanatory ideas the pupils have 
;>ed, and by the power to see the direction in which 
such ideas may be expected to explain yet other of these 
phenomena : to securing clearness of idea and readiness 
in application, therefore, must the teacher direct his 
efforts. When the teaching aims at increase of construc- 
tive or executive skill, its effectiveness is seen in the 
iual }>erfection of the adaptation of movement to end 
and in the growing difficulty and remoteness of 
end : to secure continuously increasing perfection 
must here be the teacher's aim. 

In all cases it is evident that growth in effective learning 

idu il and continuous. Consequently, effective teach ing 

imi>t be continuous and well graded. The not uncommon 

practice of treating eaoh jekr'a work as a whole in it>eif. 

and ne_de-ting to connect it with previous years' work, 

ital to true effectiveness. Further, the results of 

.ing must be sought in a growing power of appreheu- 

understandinLT, and of skill, and not merely, 

iiainly, in the mastery of fresh matter, a mastt-n 

\\liii-h t ft. n is no more complete in the upper 

-es of a school than in the lower: the matter dealt 
\\ith N diir.-r.-nt. the j,,, \\er t.. deal \\ith it remains\ . 


3. Concerning the proper order of instruction certain 

maxims have become traditional. Thus we 
Maxims of f ij 


(1) Proceed from the known to the 


(2) Proceed from the easy to the more difficult. 

(3) Proceed from the concrete to the abstract. 

(4) Proceed from the empirical to the rational. 

(5) Proceed from the simple to the complex. 

(6) Proceed from the indefinite to the definite. 

Stated thus abstractly such maxims may lead the teacher 
wrong as often as they lead him right. For neither the 
scope nor the point of their application is uniform. 

The first merely implies that new knowledge is ap- 
prehended in the light of old knowledge 

Proceed from ant i t ] la t the two should be united in an 

the Known to , , _, . , . 

the Unknown, organic whole. It is, therefore, merely a 

summary way of saying that the teacher 
should arrange the subject-matter of instruction so that 
each part is properly connected with what precedes it. 
But it gives no hint that this merely serial arrangement 
is insufficient, and thus it is imperfect even as a maxim 
regulative of the presentation of new knowledge. To 
teaching whose object is not the acquirement of new 
knowledge the maxim has no application at all; ami 
as a statement of what goes on in the child's mind it 
is obviously false, for in knowledge the child's progress is 
towards making known what was before unknown. 

The second maxim is true in a very broad sense, but it 

leaves open the whole question as to what is 
Proceed from 'easy' and what is 'difficult.' Moreover, 

tjil6 ijclSV bO tilG 

more Difficult. m matters of doing it implies that grada- 
tion should be sought in the objects dealt 
with rather than in the skill in dealing with UK-HI. 


This is never more than half the truth ami is often 
\vhollv false. A young child, for example, will <lraw 
similar to those drawn by his more advanced 
schoolmates, luit he will draw them less well. The power 
of using l'gs. arms, and hands becomes more perfect by 
practice, but in many eases such practice does not demand 
gradation in the objects on which it is exercised. In 
matters of understanding the maxim can only be accepted 
with i m] iort ant reservations. As Bacon long ago pointed 
out, there are cases in which it is well to plunge first into 
the more ditlicult parts of a subject and then the easier 
parts will le of the nature of recreation. And it is certain 
that no branch of study can be followed properly if an 
attempt is made to arrange its subject-matter simply in 
the order of difficulty. 

The third and fourth maxims apply rather to the 

Pr ceed from n ouera l order of human acquirements than 

the Concrete to anything more specific. Man begins by 

apprehending things and passes on slowly 

Proceed from all 'l gradually to understanding them as 

the Empirical parts of the world around him. The things 

1 are the 'concrete/ and his first apprehen- 

of them is empirical that is, he experiences them and 

nies familiar with them, but he does noMmderstand 

tln-ir nature, nor does he grasp t heir place and function 

in the world. Such understanding, however, soon begins to 

. and the first step is t he consideration of things not as 

wholes, but in particular aspects or relations. These are the 

t ' But one cannot rest satisfied there. One cannot 

reduce one's world to mere empty relations which mav 

IN- calmly yiewed by the intellect, but which make no 

d t<> the MM-lings, the dcsir'>. <.r the will. One finds 

th.- abstract in the c.,ncivte m.-n-ly that .ne may in, .re fully 

Ddete. And m |0 far as one thus sees 


abstract and concrete as one organic whole one's concep- 
f ion has become rational. Hence, to attempt to apply the 
maxim, " Proceed from the concrete to the abstract," indis- 
criminately to teaching would be a serious error. In some 
lessons we do start with the concrete and by analysis reach 
the abstract. But this is only half the process. Such 
lessons must always be followed by others in which the 
order is reversed and in which we use the abstract we 
have obtained to explain other concretes. 

The maxim, " Proceed from the empirical to the rational," 
is true, but in its abstract form it is so full an expression 
of the order of the development of knowledge that it is but 
an indefinite guide to teaching. For it is obvious that 1 lie 
advance can never be fully made in one lesson, nor indeed 
during school life, especially school life which ends at 
fourteen years of age. In its full sense it never is made, 
and never will be made till human knowledge is com- 
plete. The maxim may serve, however, as a useful 
suggestion to teachers to inspire their pupils not to rest 
satisfied with mere experience and familiarity, but to try to 
understand the meanings of things about them, so far as 
the limitations of their knowledge and mental power make 
it possible for them to do so. 

The fifth maxim describes somewhat crudely the develop- 
ment of ideas in the mind. A child's empi- 
Proceed from r i ca } apprehension of objects .is ' simple/ 

the Complex ^ >ecause ne nas not by analysis discovered 
their complexity. When he has found many 
'abstracts' in a 'concrete' and again built up the 
concrete by putting together those abstracts his idea has 
become complex. But the object has remained the same 
all along. It is not, therefore, surprising that the applica- 
tion of this maxim to the arrangement of the subject- 
matter of instruction has led to some of the worst methods 


of teaching the world has ever seen, as, for example, to the 
U'u'inninga foreign language by a minute and ordered study 
of tin- grammar, with copious exercises on every point; to 
the K'giiming geometry with abstract definitions, postu- 
lates, and axioms ; to the ' alphabetic ' system of teaching 
to ivad : to the teaching of drawing by elaborate and long- 
o >nt inned exercises on straight lines, then combinations 
of straight lines, and so on, to more ' complex ' figures, on 
tlit- ground that the line is the 'simplest' element of 
form. So it is in the sense that it is the ultimate result 
of the analysis of form. But as the child does not natur- 
ally make this analysis its results are not 'simplest' to 
him in the sense of being most easily apprehended. 

But, it may be urged, the maxim is surely applicable to the 
acquirement of skilful and complex movements. This must 
also be largely denied. Nothing is more obvious to one 
who observes than that, in learning to do anything, the 
first attempts are marked by a great exuberance of move- 
ment, and that as skill is acquired many of these move- 
ments, being found unnecessary and at times inconvenient, 
are discontinued. The movement as it becomes more per- 
fect becomes actually simpler. Watch a child learning 
to writ*- and note how many needless, and even hindering, 
movements of head, tongue, and body he makes, which 
he will gradually drop as he acquires the art. No doubt 
in Ira ruing to do things, gradation in difficulty is often 
good, but to give this as the meaning of the maxim would 
be to make it a mere synonym of " Proceed from the easy 
to the more difficult." If regarded as applying to the 
organisation of instruction the maxim is, therefore, either 
false or unnecessary. 

Th' sixth maxim ;il- not with the arrangement 

.!>jr.'t-]nattT. I. lit with th<- development of id-as iii 
hildV mind. To use it, t h.'iv|.,iv, as a guidr to tin- 
TO. 5 


plotting out of the curriculum is to fall into a serious 
mistake. All teaching should deal with 
Proceed from definite subject-matter, but the child's ideas 
to^he 6 ^ ^ na ^ ma tter like his skill in acquiring 

Definite. movements become more perfect as he ad- 

vances from the empirical to the rational stage 
of knowledge, and such increased perfection of ideas will 
be marked by increased power of clear expression. This, 
therefore, the teacher should expect as one of the results 
of his teaching. 

A maxim less frequently accepted by English teachers 
is that the education of the child should 

J ne , agree in its sequence with that of the race. 

Development * ,. . . 

of the Child This has very important limitations. In his 

is Parallel to mental life the child does, indeed, bear some 
Ra ^ e resemblance to the savage. But still more 

important are the differences ; the child is 
after all a child, whilst the savage is an adult, and no 
theorising can eliminate this essential difference. Nor can 
any theorising negate the difference between the state of 
civilisation which surrounds the child and that of ignorance 
and superstition which surrounds the savage. To attempt 
to arrange the curriculum, then, mainly under the guid- 
ance of this exaggerated- parallelism in development of child 
and race is futile. Such attempts are mainly made by 
those who try to apply a theory of ' concentration.' These 
usually make their core of instruction literary-historical, 
and arrange it in accordance with this supposed parallelism, 
whilst the order of teaching all other subjects is determined 
by relations to this core. If nothing else showed the 
hopeless artificiality of the arrangement, the fact that the 
parallelism is completed by the time the child leaves the 
primary school at fourteen would do so, for nothing is more 
certain than that the child, at that age, has not entered 


into the full heritage of the race; he has not attained 
maturity of mind any more than he has reached the 
physical stature and powers of manhood. 

It would seem, then, that such maxims of method as we 
have briefly considered are of very limited value. As 
summing up certain aspects of empirical pieces of teaching 
they lay down some occasional conditions of success. But 
tht-v ostensibly lay them down as universally true, whilst 
their truth is really only particular and special. They are 
thus misleading and suggest bad teaching quite as easily 
as good. 

4. It is obvious, then, that something more definite than 

the traditional maxims is needed as a guide 

Psychological to method. And it follows from the concep- 

Method. tion of teaching as correlative with learning 

that such guidance must be based on an 

analysis of the way in which the mind proceeds in evolving 

knowledge out of its experience. 

Such an analysis yields the broad result that knowledge 
begins in experience, and grows through the action of 
the mind on experience. The general process may be 
summed up by saying that every new experience is under- 
stood by the aid of past experiences consciously or un- 
consciously brought to bear upon it. For example, 
every act of recognition is possible only because former 
experiences of the same or similar objects have left in 
tin- mind a tendency to notice objects of thai kind. But 
tin- mere jMTfdstence of such tendencies would not be 
sufficient to give us real understanding of our present 
experiences, for these would still remain fragmentary and 
isolated. It is only so far as immediate experience has 
been int.-rpreted by intVivn.-.-> and looked at in the 
lijht of received theories that it is helpful to us as a 
guide of life. 


Thus, the full content of mental life at any moment is not 
only the experiences which are immediately present to con- 
sciousness through the senses, but those experiences as 
illuminated by the results of past experiences interpreted 
in the light of opinions and general ideas which we have 
either accepted from others or arrived at by our own 
thought, or, more frequently, accepted after thought on the 
suggestion of others. What we know as a ' fact ' is 
always an experience so interpreted. We say, for example, 
that it is a fact that the earth goes round the sun. Such 
a fact is obviously the current way of explaining certain 
solar appearances which alone appear in immediate experi- 
ence. But to our forefathers it appeared to be a fact that 
the sun goes round the earth. The solar appearances are 
the same; it is the system of thought by which tln-y an- 
interpreted which has changed. Fact and theory are indeed 
indissolubly connected, for every fact is viewed in the 
light of some theory. 

Yet theories are continually being developed out of facts. 
In other words the facts as we know them that is, as 
viewed in the light of our present theories are always 
being more closely examined and analysed, and as a conse- 
quence the theories are often changed, and then the facts 
have a meaning for us different from that which they had 
before. In this way knowledge grows. Facts, as we know 
them, yield up their life and take on a new and higher 
form when seen in the light of newer and truer theories. 
And we know the newer theories are truer than the old, 
just because they do explain and make consistent and 
intelligible facts which before stood, as it were, apart, and 
which we could not explain, that is, fit into the general 
scheme of things. 

By such an analysis of the process of the growth of 
knowledge we may separate out several factors. There is, 


first, tin 1 part played by old knowledge and past experience 
in enabling us to understand new experiences. Secondly, 
then- is thi' part played by new experiences in furnishing 
the material for the growth of knowledge. Thirdly, there 
is the analysis of experience, involving comparison of case 
with caso. and leading to the formation of general ideas 
and the formulation of theories. Lastly, there istheutili- 
n of these ideas and theories in the explanation of 
further facts. 

5. It is on such an analysis that the well-known Herbar- 

tian theory of the ' Formal Steps of Method ' 

The Herbar- is based. As usually stated these steps are 

Stepfof 11 " 11 five ^ number: (1) Preparation, (2) Pre- 
Method. sentation, (3) Comparison, (4) Generalisa- 

tion, (5) Application, though some writers 
combine tin 1 third and fourth steps under the term Abstrac- 
t i n. These steps are then made applicable to every ' Method 
Whole,' that is, apparently, to so much of a piece of teach- 
ing as may rightly embrace them all. Such a method- whole 
may consist of one lesson or of many. It cannot, then, 
fairly IM charged against the Herbartian theory that the 
formal steps force every lesson into the same cast-iron 
:h some enthusiastic Herbartians show a tend- do this. 

Nevertheless, the scheme is open to serious objections. 
It suggests, even if it is not based on, the assumption that 
tin- factors in the process of acquiring knowledge must be 
consecutive in time. But this is far from bring the case. 
,md thc,>rv, d rience and thought, react on each 

thi-r continuously, so that actual living thought presents 
little in common with thiscut and dried time-orderof learn- 
ing. That the steps are regarded as expressing :i time-order 
is evident from the explanations given of their function 
Tims, fur example, Mr. Van I,iew says: "Preparation 


. . . analyses the mental content of the child for the pur- 
pose of getting at the possible ideas upon the subject in 
hand that are already present in the child's mind. ... It 
should cover so far as possible the entire content of the 
method- whole." 1 Now this is certainly not the way in 
which knowledge is actually acquired. The ideas from the 
past are brought to bear on the present, each as it is 
needed, and nothing is gained by summoning ideas at the 
beginning of a method-whole which will not be needed 
till a later point is reached, it may even be after an 
interval of several weeks. Nor do we postpone comparison 
and generalisation till our new facts are all before us; 
indeed, if we did we should never compare and generalise. 
For we should never know when the facts are complete or 
shall we not rather say, we should always know that they 
are never complete ? To make ' Comparison ' a separate step 
further suggests the false theory that generalisation is based 
on such resemblances between things as force themselves on 
our senses, and not on that inner identity of nature which 
is only revealed by a deeper analysis which penetrates 
beneath the outward appearances of things. Such an 
analysis can only be carried on in the light of a theory 
which it tests, and cannot, therefore, precede the conception 
of such a theory. 2 

That the theory of the formal steps was founded on a 
mechanical and discredited view of mind growth as deter- 
mined solely by the interaction of ideas presented from 
without cannot, perhaps, be urged against it, as it is now 
advocated by many who hold an exactly opposite view of 
the nature of mind. One cannot help thinking, however, 
that it would be strange indeed if a theory of instruction 
based on a false psychology should be equally well 

1 Translator's note in Rein's Outlines of Pedagogics, pp. 149-151. 

2 See Welton, Logical Bases of Education, pp. 181-3 ; 136-9, 


connected with a true and contradictory psychology. 
Undoubtedly, in the original theory the ' Presentation ' 
was essentially the work of the teacher ; he also was at least 
equally in evidence with the pupil in the work of ' Prepara- 
tion,' and in that of 'Application.' But in 'Comparison' 
and ' Generalisation ' we have the interaction of the child's 
ideas upon each other. The steps are, therefore, some- 
what uncertain in their reference, in that some express 
primarily the teaching side of the process and others 
the learning side. When an attempt is made to apply 
the steps throughout either to the teaching process 
<>r to the learning process the terms are seen to be 
unsuitable, in that they do not uniformly express the 
features of either. 

Further, the advocates of the scheme often seem to 
assume that all school work can be divided into method- 
wholes, in each of which the process is completed. 
This is not the case. Effective theorising in such sub- 
jects as history is not possible till long after primary 
school days are over ; in literature often not at all. And 
all those forms of teaching which aim at the production 
of constructive or executive skill fall outside the theory 
j'ther : attempts to apply the steps to them are 
painfully pedantic. 

Kven in subjects to which the scheme can be more or 
less applied it is acknowledged that in many lessons only 
tin- first two steps can be taken. This practically abolishes 
the guidance the theory is supposed to give. For if after 
recall of what is already known there is nothing but 
4 Presentation,' nbviouslv the onler in \vhich 'Presenta- 
tion ' is to tak i plac.- is l-ft just where it was: the theory 
has given no guidance to the teacher. In fact, no merely 
formal steps can give much ilirect help in plotting out 
actual pieces of teaching. Each such piece of teaching 


deals with certain definite subject-matter, and the real 
steps in the process are only to be found in the na.luiv of 
that matter in relation to the minds by which it is to be 

Further, every such formal scheme of method lies open 
to the objection that it tends to mechanise instruction. 
Everything which limits the freedom and spontaneity <>i' 
the process which is at once teaching and learning is a 
hindrance and not a help to educative work. 

6. Turning, then, from this attempt to reduce all teach- 
ing to one general form, we will begin our 
of L^ssonsT* inquiry for general schemes of method by 
fixing our attention primarily on individual 
lessons, which it has been already said must be conned <<] 
together in a rational order. 1 Though every form of the 
learning process may go on in any one lesson, yet a little 
reflection makes it evident that the predominant feature 
in one differs from that in another. There are lessons in 
which the main aim is the increase of information or the 
apprehension of fact. In these the learning process is 
predominantly perceptual. 2 There are others of which t In- 
essential purpose is to examine and analyse facts already 
familiar, so as to reach a fuller understanding of them ; 
in other words, to develop theories and general ideas. In 
these the mental process in learning is essentially concep- 
tual, and the order of thought is inductive. 3 Thirdly, 
there are those whose primary function is to apply and 
utilise knowledge which has already been acquired. In 
these, also, the mental process of learning is conceptual, 
but the order of thought is deductive. 3 And, fourth I v, 
there are lessons which tend to develop constructive 

1 See p. 57. 2 See pp. 48-9. 

3 See pp. 49-51, and cf. Welton, Logical Bases of Education, 
pp. 119-122. 


and executive skill. In these the mental process of 
the learner is cither imitative or imaginative, and in 
each case the expression of the mental ideas by 
some form of physical activity is the characteristic 

Lessons of all these kinds would fall within every com- 
plete Herltartian method-whole, and the first three broadly 
correspond to the steps called ' Presentation,' ' Abstraction,' 
and 'Application,' under which last the fourth may also, 
though witli some violence, be brought. But the corre- 
spondence is only very general. In no subject do the kinds 
of lessons follow each other in any fixed time order; 
indeed, examples of each are not necessarily found in any 
one branch of study. Moreover, as each kind of lesson 
corresponds mainly to only one step in the Herbartian 
cheme though, of course, a 'Preparation' can always 
IK- prefixed- -that scheme evidently throws little light on 
the method of individual lessons. Thus, even if the 
types of lessons could be identified with the separate steps 
of the Herbartian scheme, still a consideration of them 
separately would be likely to yield more definite help than 
is -.riven by that scheme, which, as we have seen, under an 
appearance of methodical order often leaves us entirely 
uith.-ut guidance when we come to deal with the actual 
work of giving lessons. 

7. Throughout school life, and especially in the earlier 

years, lessons which aim at the develop- 

LessonB which ment of knowledge have as their primary 

i^iteijfrf"" ^i** * w* its sc ? 6 or oonteot, or, 

Knowledge. as we may say, to widen the ratine ..I' in- 
formation. Siidi hysons deal mainly with 
the appr-h-ii>iitn of facts. No doubt ivIVivn.-r is made 
le>s indin-etly to theories and general ideas 

whi.-li -.rive tlic fact> their HUM n in-. I ii.-idnif ally, too, thQ 


apprehension of the facts may involve the exercise of 
constructive or executive activities. But the primary 
object is the extension of the scope of the pupils' know- 
ledge. The steps of method in such lessons, therefore, 
must be relative to that purpose, and should be based on 
an analysis of the mental process involved in the appre- 
hension of new facts. 

In such an analysis, the first point that strikes us is the 

selective nature of the process. Not every 
S te P a of fact around us is apprehended, but only those 

which win our attention. Such attention 
may flow out spontaneously to facts of a class which we 
have previously found interesting. Thus, pupils who 
have been much interested by previous lessons on plants 
may be very willing to attend to a new lesson on plants. 
Or the attention may be called to facts which have not 
hitherto interested us, but which force themselves on our 
notice in such a way as to hinder our activities or arouse 
our curiosity. 

The teacher has, then, so to introduce the subject of his 

lesson to the children that the desire to know 
of Attention 11 ^ * s arouse< l- Of course, no such subject is 

entirely fresh, and so the obvious thing to do 
is to call to the pupils' remembrance their cognate know- 
ledge, and then to indicate the new matter of study as a 
desirable extension and development of that. It is by no 
means the case that all the previous knowledge will have 
been acquired in the course of school lessons. Indeed, the 
more closely the teacher can connect his lessons with the 
general life and interests of his pupils, the more successful 
will he be in arousing in them the desire to learn those 
lessons. This introductory step corresponds broadly with 
the Herbartian step of ' Preparation,' but differs from it 
in that the teacher should recall at the beginning only just 


what is sufficient to get a good start, leaving other inter- 
pretative ideas to be brought into use as they are wanted. 
The first step, therefore, in the learning process is the 
HlJHiifiH' at i if iitffufinn, and the corresponding teaching 
function of stating the aim and evoking desire maybe 
termed Securimj tJic Strtin<j-i>oint. 

This will take very little time the less the better. 
The bulk of the lesson will be, on the pupils' 
1 P art ' the OMtn, imi of new maternal On 
the teacher's part, the process is one of 
setting forth this new material in suitable ways an<l in 
ordered sequence, divided into steps, and pausing at tin- 
end of each step to secure reflection and recollection on t lie 
part of the pupils. The division of the matter into these 
steps demands skill and care as well as full knowledge of 
the subject. The steps must be determined by the nature 
of the subject-matter; the fulness with which they are 
treated, and the rapidity with which they are passed 
through must be decided by the powers of the class. It is 
no help to the teacher to be told to lump all these under 
: serai heading such as ' Presentation.' Rather he must 
be exhorted to get such an insight into his material that 
his steps express its real articulation. 

Finally the pupils must or<j ///'* the new knowledge and 

fit it into its place in their total svstem of 
iii. Organisation , . , ... ' . 

of Knowledge, knowledge s<> as to see its bearing and value. 

The mental process is again reflection and 

recollect ion, but more extended in its scope than at the 

the intermediate steps. The teacher's part is, by 

n and indication of connect ions, to assist in this 

organ i>atin. This m;i\ l>e done in a variety of \va\s 

each more suitable to one Kind <>{' subject-matter than 

to another. S.. l"ii- M tin- result is secured 1 he mode of 

.MJIIL: it is ju>tilied. The success of the lesson max 1*> 


gauged by the desire aroused in the pupils generally to 
carry that line of study further, and the most obvious 
utilisation of the new knowledge, at any rate as far as 
school work is concerned, is the employment of it to make 
this progress at once more facile and more rapid. 

Having laid down the general steps of method in such 
lessons, the next point to consider is how 
Modes of such teaching can be given in the most 

of Teaching. effective way. This also must be deter- 
mined by a consideration of the nature of 
the knowledge to be acquired by the pupils, and of the way 
in which such knowledge is, or can be, related to the lives 
of the pupils. 

Knowledge of facts comes to each one of us in two 
chief ways either by immediate experience or from the 
testimony of others. Obviously the range of immediate 
experience of each individual, if we exclude from it all 
intercourse with our fellows, is extremely small. It follows, 
then, that by far the greater part of our knowledge of 
facts is derived from what others tell us, or from what we 
read in books. In these ways each individual avails him- 
self of the a< vi miniated experience of the human r;uv, and 
enters into at least some small part of the heritage of 
human knowledge. It is, indeed, through intercourse with 
others that the child develops into the civilised and more 
or less cultured man. But the most usual medium through 
which we receive information from others is language, and 
the words of language convey meaning to us only as far as we 
can interpret them by a more or less direct reference to our 
own immediate experiences. It is, for example, impossible 
to convey adequate or correct ideas of colour to one who 
has been blind from birth, because the words in which we 
try to explain what colour is would have no reference to 
any immediate personal experience of our hearer. We can, 


indeed, understand the descriptiou of things we have iiever 
seen, but we can do so only so far as this description 
guides us iii putting together in a new form elements 
familiar to us in immediate experience. Our under- 
standing of what others tell us is adequate, correct, and 
clear, just in proportion to the adequacy, correctness, and 
clearness of the ideas which the lan^ua^e calls up in our 
mind. And this a^ain is din-ctly dependent upon the care 
with which the corresponding experiences have been noticed 
and examined. 

Now, we know that the great majority of our imme- 
diate experiences pass unnoticed. This, indeed, must 
always be so. Impressions from the world around 
MS pour into our minds so continuously and in such 
unordered numbers that only a few can possibly win 
our attention. To attempt to attend to all would be 
to attend to none. As life advances we more and more 
limit <>ur attention to the range of our interests, and such 
limitation is essential to effective work: without it our 
energies would be dissipated in all directions and no real 

U attained in any. But witli the young, life-purposes 
and their attendant interests can hardly be said to have 
begun. It follows that one of the teacher's functions is 

tra<-t his pupils' attention to the events and things 
which enter directly into their lives. This he should do 
as widely as possible, though as his pupils advance in 
age he must expect, and indeed welcome, the l>eu r inninu;s 
..f that co M.-eiit ration of interests which is essential to a 
really effective life. < )f -,uir>f. in the primary school such 
concentration will not proceed far, and will at most show 

i-tain kinds of knowledge ; ,|,,,\ r 
-1 IP 

fcO attend to immediate experi. not siilli- 

preparation for understanding the 


of others. There must be added to it a careful train- 
ing in the application and use of language, and in the 
power of verbal description of things in immediate 
experience or remembered as parts of former immediate 
experiences. As Mr. Rooper well says : " Speech is a 
spiritual hand for grasping objects by the mind. . . . 
Want of language, want of words filled with clear, definite 
meaning, is the greatest hindrance to culture." * 

The gaining knowledge by full and careful examination 
of things and events in immediate experience is, then, the 
essential foundation of every real system of learning, and 
unless it is well and truly laid the edifice erected will be a 
jerry-built structure unsafe and liable to collapse. And 
an integral part of such examination of experience is the 
development of the power to use language accurately, 
clearly, and precisely. 

We see, then, that lessons which aim at increase of 
information are of two main kinds those which directly 
examine and study things and events, and those which do 
so at second-hand through the words of others. Both will 
go on throughout the school, but it is evident that the 
proportion of the latter to the former will increase as the 
pupils advance in age, in knowledge, and in command over 

To the former class belong object lessons, nature study, 

out of doors study of geography, the first 

^SJl* Stud 7 study of number, study of historical remains 

and Events. an ^ f works of art. The mode of teaching 

is obvious. It must bring every pupil into 

direct relation, through the appropriate forms of activity, 

with the qualities of the things dealt with. In so far as 

this is not done the lesson resolves itself into one which 

conveys information through words. For example, weight 

1 School cmd Home Life, p. 98. 


can only be directly apprehended by lifting, texture or 
temperature by feeling, flavour by tasting, and so on. 
Mfivly to talk of these qualities as belonging to an 
object which the pupils only see, is not to give direct 
\lt-rieiice of them. The teacher's work is, then, in 
the first place to secure that such examination is well 
and thoroughly made, and in the next place, to ensure 
that each pupil can express the results of his observations 
in clear and copious language. In all such work it must 
be borne in mind that mere cursory notice such as a 
child spontaneously gives to objects which attract him is 
not sufficient. He must really attend to them, which 
implies that each must be kept under examination a con- 
siderable time, and considered in its relation to some 
purpose of active doing or thinking, return being made to 
it again and again. "Let the child see what .part the 
object plays in its usual surroundings, and dwell upon its 
material, its origin, its use, its hurtfuluess, its opposites, 
and its resemblances." 1 In a word, to be of worth such 
teaching must be thorough, and can only be effectively 
given by teachers who have a copious, exact, and sym- 
pat het i<- kn \v ledge at first-hand of the subjects they handle, 
too common notion that it requires very little know- 
ledge to give a successful object lesson to young children is 
utterly mistaken and productive of much waste of time 
a IK 1 of much youthful distaste for learning. 

Upon the foundation thus laid in an examination of im- 
mediate experience the whole of the superstructure of know- 
ledge has to rest. It is evident that many facts are equally 
\sell learned from others as from personal observation. 
Nothing would In- gained, for example, by letting a boy 
hat Ireland i> an inland l.y walking round it. and 
ntly iniu-h time and energy would l>e lost. So it is wit It 
. Im. 


the majority of facts. Indeed, it matters little, if at all, how 
we get hold of a fact so long as we apprehend it clearly, 
accurately, and completely. All facts in history, most of 
those in geography, in natural history, and indeed in every 
department of knowledge we have to take on trust. That 
is how the individual makes use of the labours of others, 
and consequently how general knowledge grows. 

Communication from others is made in two ways by 

word of mouth and through the printed page. 
Oral Teaching. , , , ,, 

Ot these the tormer evidently comes earliest 

in school life: children can understand speech before they 
can read. Moreover, oral teaching has an advantage which 
is important with young children. By encouraging the 
pupils to ask questions, and by occasionally question- 
ing them, the teacher can make sure that they appre- 
hend clearly what he is telling them. The teacher should, 
therefore, cultivate the power of effective and vivid narra- 
tive terse and pointed and clear ; in short, a good English 
spoken style. Nor should he be afraid to use it. Then- is 
an unhappy tendency in English primary schools to con- 
temn such narrative as ' lecturing,' and to try to teach 
everything by questioning. Now, questioning certainly has 
its place in teaching, and we shall deal with it later on; 
but no questioning can put into people's minds facts which 
were not there before. And in the kind of lessons we are 
now considering increase of knowledge of facts is the very 
object of the teaching. Let the teacher, then, tell a story 
as a story say a piece of history, or an account of foreign 
lands, or whatever it may be. Let him illustrate with suit- 
able pictures, specimens, and blackboard sketches any- 
thing which will add clearness and vividness to the ideas 
he is raising in his pupils' minds. But let him not overdo 
this. To ' illustrate ' what is already clear and vivid is to 
waste time; to show a picture of what should be left to 


unaided imagination ol the pupils many a poetical 
. for example is to do for them what they should do 
for themselves and therefore to hinder their education; 
< >wd a lessou say one on a foreign country with 
pictures or lantern slides is to bring confusion instead of 

leal-ness into the ideas the pupils carry away with them. 
In short, in illustrations, pictorial or verbal, as in other 
adornments and luxuries of life, a wise economy is 

But the teacher must not be content to talk, no matter 
how well he does it. The pupil's mental attitude when 
absorbing new knowledge of fact is, and should be, re- 

eptive. and that whether he is observing objects for 
himself or listening to the words of his teacher. But it 
should iii no case be passive. When the pupil is observing 
facts for himself he is first taking the object to pieces 
mentally and then putting it together again. When he is 

ling to descriptions or narratives, the putting together 
of the new facts he is learning is equally important. Tho 
teacher will, therefore, pause at appropriate places, and in 
some suitable way secure that this is done, often pla 
the results <n t he blackboard in some brief form of sum- 
mary. And at the end of the lesson, or at a subsequent 
time, lie will rail for some form of systematic reproduction. 

and most ineffective way of doing this is, as B 
! rat ive is over, to ask the class a number of j 

Individual pupils answer the questions, but 
!r_ r is done to lead any pupil to think over and 
put :'. T himself the ooi f the lesson. To 

have ' ilk on the main points and their connection, 

tothr-'U its results into the form of a summary, and to 
follow this a day or two later by a written composition, is 
a much more effective mode of proceeding with the older 
\\\\\\>\ with the younger it is well to train them to 
TO. 6 


give individually complete reproductions in fluent and cor- 
rect English of the substance of what they have heard. 11' 
they are interested in the subject quite small children do 
this readily when encouraged to do so. It is the teacher's 
faith in the fatal heresy of the supreme value of question- 
ing which so often destroys this power in the pupils as they 
get older, so that one of the chief characteristics of many 
primary schools is the inarticulateness of the scholars. 
But it must not be forgotten that teaching in school 

should always develop and train in the 
fron^Books Pupils the power of learning for themselves. 

Lessons of direct observation of the things 
which surround us do this, but oral lessons do not directly 
do it at all, and, if too extensively used, may even atrophy 
the capacity. After the pupil leaves school the one way 
of getting information at second-hand commonly open to 
him is by reading books. And to read a book so as to 
extract its essence and pass by what is not of worth 
relatively to our needs is a work of skill. This skill it 
should be one of the chief objects of the school to train. 
Like every other power it can only be developed by right 
practice. How can we expect young men and women to 
read intelligently what is worth reading if they have never 
been taught how to do so at school ? Such teaching 
is not given by the ordinary lesson in reading aloud, the 
aim of which is always mainly, if not altogether, elocu- 
tionary. By the excess of oral lessons children are so 
trained to rely on their teacher for new information that 
they know not how to get it in any other way. One of 
the greatest reforms needed in our primary schools is the 
substitution to a very considerable extent of the reading of 
well chosen text-books for oral lessons. " No education 
seems to be worth the name which has not made children 
at home in the world of books, and so related them, mind 


to mind, with thinkers who have dealt with knowledge. 
We reject epitomes, compilations, and their like, and put 
into children's hail-Is books which, long or short, are living. 
Thus it becomes a large part of the teacher's work to help 
children to deal with their books: so that the oral lesson 
anl Itvture are but small matters in education, and are 
used chiefly t<> summarise or to expand or illustrate." 1 
In this passage Miss Charlotte Mason states not only 
the principle we are urging, bill also t he practice adopted 
for some years past with the greatest success in the 

School at Ambleside. 

Doubtless, at tirst the pupils need a good deal of help in 
. i ng a portion of a book : it must be indicated what they 
are to look for, how they are to distinguish the essential 
from the less important, and how they are to organise 
Mid systematise what they have read . Care has to be taken 
that they d<> all this intelligently and do not make the 
w<.rk a m re memory of words, which is the danger to 
which this form of learning is most open; though it 
may well be doubted it' even this is so serious an educational 
mischief as the desultory habit of mind, the slurring over 

iti-s. and the shirking of difficulties which is the la r ..ut come of excessive oral teaching. A few broad 
ad suggefltire question*; written down before they be^in 

;id the answering of which involves a digesting 
ami re-arraii-em.-nt "t' tin- subject of the chapter, put the 
pupils on th- right mad at the beginning. At the end a 
talk with the teacher over what has been read should 
_ruide them in that 01-^1 iii>inu r .,!' new matter with old 
which is necessary to secure every advance in know- 
ledge. Such a talk should neither IM- allowed todegenerate 
into a mere examination into what is remembered inr 
into an informal dial over trivialities. In it the 



teacher should aim at developing important points, at 
illustrating others, and at leading the pupils to make 
inferences and draw conclusions from the matter read, and 
themselves to seek for analogies and illustrations from 
other sources. The reproduction of the substance of what 
has been learnt either orally or in some form of written 
composition completes the work. Such reproduction may 
take many forms, and the more variety the teacher can 
iut rod uce into it the more stimulating is the exercise. But 
all such forms fall into one of two broad classes repro- 
duction in full of the whole or part of the matter studied, 
or re production in brief summary of the important facts, 
arranged with reference to some definite point of view. In 
either case the line to be taken in arranging the reproduc- 
tion is often best indicated to the pupils by a broad 
quest it m. 

Of course, this mode of learning can only be gradually 
substituted for oral teaching as the children attain 
mastery over the mechanical diiiicult !-.-, of reading. But 
approaches to it, though gradual, should be steady, and in 
the upper classes it should l>e the customary mode in 
which the pupils u<-<juiiv new information. Needle 
say, the books used must be carefully selected, so as to 
appeal to the pupils and awaken that sympathy with 
learning of which the germ exists in every human mind. 
They should be such as to require the young readers to 
put forth their best efforts, yet not so hard as to render 
those efforts unavailing. Above all, the mastery of them 
should be set before the pupils as a privilege to be valued 
and sought after and not as a hated ta-^k to be imposed 
and enforced by penalties. Here, as elsewhere, it depends 
mainly on the teacher's tact whether the pupils' atti- 
tude towards their lessons be one of attraction or of 


8. In the type of lessons we have just considered the 

pupils are engaged in entering into their 

ai^atlucreas- intellectual heritage by extending the width 

ing Depth of of their knowledge. Their mental attitude 

Knowledge. - g rece pti ve> and their minds are engaged in 

iv ing what is present to their senses, in imagining 
what is described, and in remembering in an ordered 
manner tarts of which they have in these ways become 
aware. To some extent they reason on these matters of 

and ivlato them to each other. But the relation is 
mainly superficial; it is usually one of time when the facts 
ha\v been received through narrative, or one of place or 
similarity when they have been apprehended through 
direct experience or through description. 

It is obvious that such reception of knowledge is an 

tial element in the development of mental life: it is 

food on which thought feeds. But knowledge is not 
completely knowledge whilst it remains in this mainly 
empirical form. Facts must be sifted and analysed, and 
tin- deeper relations of identity of nature and of causation 

ii make them parts of anorganic whole must In- ascer- 

This is essentially the work of science, and in it 

man has, as yet, made but little headway in comparison 

with what has to be learnt, although when viewed in 

relation to the total ignorance from which he started his 

ress seems enormous. It lias been so great, at any 
rate, that no student attempts to know all science; special- 

on is more and more the mark of scientific worker- 
MI, abundantly evident that school children cannot 
advance far along tin paths of science. Still more evident 
the little progress they can make is possible 
onlv under skilled u'nida n.-.-. I'.ut howe\er small the pro- 
gress may be, it should I*' real. And this implies that the 
pupil investigates for him-- If. forms ,-nd tests hi* .\\n 


conclusions. The object is not to add to the width of his 
knowledge, but to increase its depth. He may incidentally 
become acquainted with facts of which his notions have 
hitherto l>een so hazy that he can. hardly be said to have 
known them at all, but his main purpose is to understand 
more about the nature and relations of facts with which, 
as facts, he is more or less familiar. His mental activity 
is, therefore, conceptual, and his mental process is one of 
reasoning and invention. 

Obviously such lessons react upon lessons of the kind we 
have already considered. Facts which have been analysed 
are ever after more full of meaning than those which have 
only been perceived. But in the primary school the two 
kinds of lessons are mainly in different branches of know- 
ledge, because there are few subjects of which the facts arc 
either simple enough or sufficiently under command to 
make conceptual analysis possible to children. Thus, 
history and descriptive geography remain for the primary 
school mainly on the perceptual level ; while mathematics 
and the simpler relations of physical science admit, more 
or less, of conceptual treatment by the pupils. 

The method of conducting lessons in which conceptual 
analysis is the chief form of mental activil \ 
Method* should obviously be an application of the 

methods of inductive science. 1 Of course, 
these cannot be adopted in their entirety, for ignorant school 
children cannot approach any subject in a mental condition 
similar to that of the pioneers of science. Though such 
methods may be called ' heuristic,' the pupils are in a very 
different position from that of original discoverers. The 
essential differences are that, as a rule, they cannot select 
their own matter for investigation, and that they have a 

1 See Welton, Logical Bases of Education, Chaps. X. and XVI. 


v.-rv inadequate conception of what constitutes proof. Nor 
can tli.-s.' .Irt'rrts be avoided, for they are inherent in the 
immaturity of tlio pupils both in knowledge and in power. 
But with these very considerable reservations the pupils 
should be independent investigators. Their attitude of 
mind should not be one of receptivity, but one of active 
inquiry and criticism. 

In order that this may be secured each lesson should 
begin with suggesting to the pupils that 

i. Apprehen- there is a problem to be solved. Of course, 

sion of Pro- , , , , , . . . 

blem the teacher selects the problem, and he 

arranges the facts so as to make that 
problem stand out clearly. The kind of problem is, thus, 
suggested to the immature pupil much more explicitly than 
the chaos of nature offers problems to the scientific dis- 
coverer. Now a problem is a direct challenge to an active 
human mind: consequently, an adequate presentation of a 
problem is sufficient in itself to excite in the pupils a desire 
to solve it. But its nature is only clearly apprehended 
when the facts which suggest it have been carefully 
examined. Before a solution can be attempted a clear 
i<lea of what lias to be solved is essential. 

When tliis has been done, the pupils should surest 

any solutions that occur to them. Many 
ii. Suggestion o f these solutions will appear to the teacher 
Solutions" 18 absurd, but it should be remembered that 

in all scientific discovery the line of advance 
is mark.-.l by tin- corpses of rejected solutions and theories. 
A solution which seems ridiculous to a teacher may well be 
reasonable to a pupil, and it must be borne in miml that 
tli- chief value of lessons of this kind does not lie in the 
accuracy nf tin- solutions reached so much as in the process 
of reaching them. When a pupil offers a solution, fcfaere- 

ln- >lioiild he iv<|iiiivil to surest a \\ a y in \\lii.-h it 


may be tested. Often the mere consideration of the conse- 
quences of a solution will show that it is inadmissible, in 
that those consequences would conflict with known facts. 
But in other cases the matter has to be brought to the test 
of experiment, and often after trial the proposed solution 
has to be rejected. In other cases one solution will appear 
at the end more probable than any other which has been 
suggested, but, at any rate in physical science, progress will 
nuvly go beyond this. 

The outcome of testing the various solutions which have 

been offered may, indeed, not be reached in 
iii. Formulation ,, , . , . , ,. 

of Theory. ^ ne lesson in which the problem was stated : 

well, indeed, is it when the active resource- 
fulness of the class is so great that it is not. But at the 
end some one solution will hold the field, a solution which 
in I'xiivme cases the teacher himself may have been driven 
to suggest, though when this is so he should be careful 
not to assert it as having more intrinsic authority than 
those of the pupils. And, obviously, this should be a last 
resort. The surviving solution should then be clearly 
formulated, and the evidence examined to see with what 
di'Ljree of confidence it may be accepted. This step may 
not take long, but it is of the utmost importance. 

Now all this may seem a very slow advance and one 
which reaches but an unsatisfactory result. From the 
point of view of knowledge both these charges must be 
granted. But educationally these are exactly the features 
which give the lessons their chief value. For such learn- 
ing should, above all, bring home to the pupils that the 
attainment of new knowledge by oneself is a slow and 
arduous task, and one in which many disappointments 
must be expected, and many mistakes will be made; that 
every proposed solution must stand or fall by the tests 
which can be applied to it; that one must not jump at 


conclusions nor claim cert :iinty where the evidence which can 
be apprehended only justifies some degree of probability. 

\Yhen all those points aiv secured the pupils may often 
with advantage be told that people wiser and more 
learned than they are have accumulated, by means 
beyond their skill to employ, much more evidence 
than they can apprehend, and that this evidence shows 
that the conclusions the pupils have reached as more or 
less probable are really practically certain. This because, 
alter all, one of the objects of teaching is to lead the 
pupils to grasp the truth so far as it is known. 

But it should be recognised clearly both by teachers and 
taught that such truth is given and received on the 
authority of others, and is not the outcome of the investiga- 
tions just concluded by the pupils. It is, indeed, the failure 
t. recognise this which makes so much of the teaching of 
science to young pupils not only ineffective but positively 
mischievous. By an excess of guidance in the form of 
restion and leading questions the teacher keeps the 
pupils fr<>m iroing astrav, and they are allowed to enun- 
ciate as the ivsult of their observations a universal law 
true in itself it may be, but absolutely unjust iiied !>y tke 
evidence before them. Thus a superciliousness, a self- 
roii.-eit. and a s< If-suHiciency are cultivated which is out 
of place everywhere, but especially in the voung, and 
whi<-li is as i'ar removed as it possibly can be from the 
attitude of mind of the true discoverer. That is marked 
by the liumilit v of Knowledge; this l.v the dogmatism of 

Throughout the invest i-al i- >n. each solution has Ixvn 

tested by its a]. plication to actual fact, and, of course, the 

victor it ion has been thu- applied as well u oti 

I'.ut it i- \\cll at the end for the pupils to seek for other 

.i),,|i. |0 that the uidth and e\ j .laiiat -r\ 


power of the theory may be brought home to them. In 
many cases, as, for example, in arithmetic 

iy. Applica- an( j geometry , this needs separate lessons, of 

Theory. the kind we shall discuss in the next section, 

and the process of thought is always of the 

nature we shall there describe. 

It is evident that the progress of a lesson in which the 
pupils' thoughts take the lead is much less 

Absence of under the teacher's control than is that of 

Rigidity in . . 

Method. one m which he presents the matter in an 

ordered sequence determined by himself. 
The attempt to attain the same regular method in this 
essentially different type of lesson absolutely destroys 
its value, for then the pupils are prevented from going 
wrong. But real progress in conceptual analysis is normally 
made by first making a mistake, thon finding out it is a 
mistake, and finally rejecting it, whilst from its ashes 
springs another and more promising attempt. 

The fulness with jwhich such methods of learning can 
be adopted depends on the advancement 
Method8 h< ^ ^ e P U P^ S relatively to their various 
branches of study. In mat hematics and 
language a good deal can be done with pupils as young as 
ten or eleven. In subjects whose data are more complex 
advance is naturally slower. The only general rule is 
at once positive and negative to cause each pupil to 
advance in conceptual analysis as far as he can, but not 
to attempt to force him beyond the point at which his 
thought works surely and successfully. The great danger 
to be avoided is an appearance of advance in mental power 
without the reality a mere sham, which often deceives 
lx)th teacher and pupils. 

The essential thing is that the pupils make all the in- 
ferences for themselves, and any procedure on the teacher's 


part which secures this end is justified. Broadly, it may 
be said that the matter dealt with is of two 

Modes of kinds. that which can bo entirely or mainly 

* 11 Nvlt1 ' "H'ntally ami that which demands, 

in addition t<> mental analysis, some amount 
of manipulation of certain matters of sense experience. 
In the former case, the function of the teacher is to 

_ . :_rest lines of thought, but to avoid 

Questioning. ' . 

suggest ing conclusions. A kind of stimu- 

lating interrogation which leads each pupil to develop 
the linr of reasoning the class is pursuing in common is 
tlu* most effective instrument with young pupils. With 
older pupils it should generally be possible to put the 
problem before them, leave them to attempt test solutions of 
their own, and then discuss the results with them. This is 
a mode of promoting learning obviously analogous to that of 
ocrag text-books* which was discussed in the last section. 

The power to question well is one of the fine arts of 
teaching. and, like other fine arts, it can only be perfected 
by much practice. But such practice may with advantage 
be criticised by careful reflection after each lesson, and it is 
in such criticism that the rules of questioning commonly 
given in books on teaching are useful. After a lesson a 
teacher may profitably ask himself whether his questions 
were calculated t<> stimulate thought, to suggest problems 
without suggesting solutions, to give the minimum prompt- 
required to carry on the lesson, whether they grew out 
.t tin- pupils' answers so as to make the whole conversa- 
ti.ii |N-I\\.-, -n t.-a.-hers and pupils a true cooperation and a 
real advance, whether they were clear, definite, and well 
expn-ssrd. This noting of faults may help in the attempt 
to them in th<- lutuiv. I'.ul improvement eaimot 
b.- made by tryin- to h rules in the mind Avlieii 

talking with the class. Then the teacher's attention 


should be fixed on the relation between subject-matter 
and pupils. He should be clear as to what he wants 
to ask, and keep in close touch with his pupils' minds ; 
beyond that he should trust to a cultivated habit of 
clear expression of thought. One questions, indeed, as 
one talks. G-ood questioning, like good exposition, is the 
outcome of habits of clear thought and precise expression. 
And precise expression can only be successfully attained if 
it is cultivated in speech generally and not merely in in- 
terrogation in school. Here, as elsewhere, general life 
habits dominate school work. 

In lessons in which the testing of suggestions involves 
the manipulation of physical objects the 
' essential point to secure is that the pupils 
invent what is to be done. Only so can they be said to 
make an experiment. Whether teacher or pupils do the 
actual manipulation is a matter of minor importance. It 
is true, indeed, that some first-hand acquaintance with 
apparatus is necessary to bring home to the pupils quite 
clearly the actual conditions under which experiments are 
worked, the need for exactness and care, and the difficulty 
of securing just the conditions desired. But this may 
easily be carried to excess, under the belief that children 
understand an experiment better when they manipulate 
the apparatus themselves. This is not necessarily the 
case, and, moreover, not mere understanding but origina- 
tion is what is wanted. So that in many cases it is 
better for the teacher to work the experiment under 
the direction of the pupils, taking care that they ran 
clearly see each step. In this way the attention of the 
pupils is less likely to be distracted from the purpose 
and intention of the experiment to mere accidental con- 
ditions and accessories. Moreover, as the apparatus is 
manipulated more skilfully the test of the suggestion 


is more >a!!sl'actory, and 1 he whole class is advancing in 
the test at the same rate, and that more speedily than 
would be possible to the pupils if working by them- 

Thus, the educational advantages may be greater when the 
pupils simply direct and watch an experiment than when 
they Loth plan and carry it out. They are certainly greater 
than in the common practice, in which the teacher plans and 
directs the experiment and the pupils do nothing but the 
manual aran^ements. The value of such lessons is limited 
t< t he t raining t hey give in manual dexterity ; of the intellec- 
t ua 1 1 >enelit of experimenting they have not an atom. This is 
recognised to be the case, even with students of University 

ly so great a scientific authority as Sir William Kan i say. 
He writes : "In my opinion, far too much stress is laid, 
now-a-days, on what is called ' practical work.' To take my 
own subject, it is possible to have quite an intelligent idea 
ot' hemistry, without ever having handled a test-tube or 

lied a balance. Lectures on chemistry may be well 
illustrated experimentally, and the necessary theories de- 

-trated by the lecturer. Of course, that will never 
make a chemist; but we are not talking of making 
rh. -mists, we are discussing the best way of giving a 
al rdu.-ation, and I maintain that to spend sever,;! 
hours a day in practical work is, if not a waste of time, at 
least a work of supererogation." 1 If this is true with 
respect to young men it is certainly not less true in tin- 
case of school children, whose want of manipulative power 
makes the possible waste of time much greater. 

Lessons such as have just been considered are very 

'nt in conception from many of those common Iv 

1 heuristic.' A confusion seems all too common 

i he disrovery and observation of facts and the 

1 University Review, vol. i., pp. 356-7. 


conceptual analysis of them. Hence, it seems frequently 
to be thought all important that children 
The Essence of should discover their own facts ; the use they 
Methods. then make of them afterwards appears to be 

considered of very minor weight. So the 
teacher is careful to cause his pupils to do their own observ- 
ing, but he quite complacently draws their inferences for 
them, if not altogether yet in the greater part. He may. 
indeed, lead them to t:ike individual steps in reasoning, but 
the guidance of the whole process he keeps in his own ham Is. 
He does not allow investigation of wrong suggestions; 
indeed, he seldom asks for a suggestion till the end of the 
lesson, when he calls for it as a ' generalisation ' from 
what has been observed. On the contrary, we have urged 
that the whole lesson should be an attempt by the pupils 
to work out their own suggested explanations. It is certain 
that only in this way will they get even a glimmering of 
a true conception of scientific method, for nothing more 
unlike the actual way in which discoveries of the se- 
of nature are made than the usual ' science ' lesson can 
well be imagined. 

9. It has been said that every theory or general mode 
of solution of a problem should be applied 

Lessons which as widely as possible. This is quite as 
aim at Applying ,. ' . , . . ' _. 

Knowledge. essential a step in learning as is the dis- 
covery of the theory itself. For theories are 
abstract statements of relations: and a relation has value 
in the structure of knowledge only so far as its range is 
apprehended, or, in other words, so far as we know the 
kind of things whose connection it expresses. The mental 
activity involved in applying a theory is conceptual, like 
that involved in arriving at it, but obviously the end of tin- 
latter process is the starting-point of the former. The 
direction of the thought is essentially deductive and 


svnthetic instei-l of inductive and analytic. 1 Not that the 
t \v. 1'. THIS of inference are ever entirely sepn rated. As has 
been seen, in the inductive process every suggestion has to be 
tested by comparison with facts of the results which can be 
deductively inferred to follow from it. So in all deductive 
application of rules, principles, and other theories, it is 
ary to analyse the cases to which we apply them 
in >rder to isolate in thought that aspect of the concrete 
tiling or event to which the particular theory is applicable. 
For it must be remembered that no one theory explains 
every asj>ect of any concrete experience. 

In lessons, or parts of lessons, then, in which the aim 

is to see the bearings of the general and 

Method* abstract knowledge which has resulted from 

lessons of the kind last considered, the general 

order of thought will be deductive, though it will not 

naturally be expressed in any of the traditional syllogistic 

forms. These, indeed, result from a logical analysis of 

thought into its elements, and are not a psychological 

expression of the order thought consciously takes. But 

tin- essential elements signified by the terms 'Major 

uise,' 'Minor Premise,' and 'Conclusion' will be 


The first step, then, will be the clear formulation of the 
general principle which is to be applied the 

i. Formula- major premise as logic calls it. If this WM 

tion of , f . , , , , 

Principle. arrived at in some previous lesson it will be 

well to review liriefly the evidence on which 
based, s<> that it may I.e certain that the general 
statement has not bec-om.- a mere form of words. 

The next step is the determination of the dim-lion in 

uhich tlii- principle j s to be applied the logical minor 

use. All general ]'i-in<-ipl.->. rules, ami other 

1 Sec Welton, Logical BOMS of Education, pp. 11!) 


statements of relation are applicable in a variety of ways', 
and it is well in teaching to deal with these 
Application separately. In working out the applications 
by deductive reasoning it is easy to slip 
in unconsciously some other assumption. It is well, 
then, to examine carefully the whole process of inference 
when it is completed in order to make explicit any sin-h 
implicitly made assumptions. Especially is this necessary 
in demonstrative geometry, where axioms and postulates 
are apt t> le assumed quite unconsciously. 

Finally, the results of the inference should be tested by 
iii. Verifica- ^ na ^ form of appeal to experience which is 
tion. appropriate to the matter in hand. 

As in all lessons which exercise conceptual activity, the 
essential point to secure is that the in- 
Modes of ferences are made by the pupils thein- 

selves. To follow the inference of another 
is to accept knowledge at second-hand . Such 
may be necessary at times, for to understand a demon- 
stration of some matter in relation to one's life is better 
than to be ignorant of it. But in so far as this is done 
the lesson falls under the first class we considered. The 
only value it can have from the point of view of the kind 
of lessons we are now considering is that it may serve as a 
model on which future attempts at inference may be based. 
In itself it has not' developed the power of reasoning, but 
only the lower power of understanding. The pupils' minds 
have been receptive, whereas in inference they are searching 
and critical. 

As in this respect the aim of this kind of lesson is the 
same as that of those we last considered, it follows that 
the modes of stimulating learning to which the teacher can 
appeal are essentially similar. Of these, then, we need 
say no more than to insist that questions which suggest 


conclusions are fatal to any attempt to secure the right 
iiit-iiTal activity in the pupils. 

1>. The last broad class of lessons consists of those in 

which the result aimed at by the pupils is 

ain?at 8 Whi h llllltt ' riil1 ' tn <>ugh the teacher, of course, 

developing regards the attainment of that result as 

Constructive incidental to some mental benefit to be 
and Executive , . , , ,, ., ,-, , ,, ., , 

derived by the pupils. But the pupils pur- 
pose is emphatically to learn to do something 
and to show some visible result of their doing to deal 
in some effective way with some part of their physical 
surroundings. All such doing is based in the first instance 
upon imitation, and whatever constructive originality may 
be afterwards attained will be found on examination to be 
imitation modified to meet new circumstances. Individuals 
are naturally endowed in very various degrees with the 
practical intelligence which makes appropriate and com- 
plete such modification to meet new conditions. But 
whether the innate capacity be small or great training 

to develop it. 

Such training is not mere practice. It involves an 
analysis of purpose and process, leading to the formula- 
tion "f u r <'ii-ral rules of doin-- or principles of the art or 
dealt with similar to that by which -vneral theories 
nowledge are attained. But there is the important 
.liflerence that in drawing out general rules of constructive 
physical activity much more may be done by the teacher 
than is permissible in the other case. For here such 
principles are instrumental, whereas there they were the 
goal aimed at. Moreover, in the application of these 
principles the test is rather conformity with recognised 
canons of taste than simple agreement with fact. Here 
again, th- M h. r has a part to play which has little 

analogue in the lessons of application considered in the 
TO. 7 


last section, in that he is to the pupil the ultimate judge 
of beauty, appropriateness, and taste. Whilst, then, in 
lessons of this kind the pupils are most obviously engaged 
in independent physical activities, yet their attitude of 
mind should have a larger admixture of receptiveness and 
docility than is desirable in lessons in which their activity 
is conceptual. 

For the effective use of physical activities it is necessary 
that the purpose to be attained be clearly 
apprehended. It is essential, in the next 
place, that the possibilities of that form of 
active dealing with physical things should be recognised, 
so that the means adopted to reach the desired end may 
be suitable. And, lastly, there must be ability to judge li >\v 
far the end has been attained, and in what directions any 
required alteration should be made. The steps of method 
in lessons of this type should, therefore, satisfy these 

In the first place, there must be a clear apprehension of 
the result it is desired to attain. This result 
i. Analysis of may be the copy of some process or result set 
Attained ^ ^fore tne Pupils for imitation, or it may be 
the invention of some new process or result 
to suit certain given conditions. In either case there must 
l>e an analysis of this desired result : in the former, a per- 
ceptual analysis of the object or process ; in the latter, an 
analysis in imagination of the conditions to be met. The 
results of such analysis may often be usefully formulated 
in a general rule or principle. 

In the next place, there must come the determination of 
means and the actual doing. In all lessons 

u ' , E J p -^ 8 ^ on of imitation, of course, the means are given 
and Criticism. 

as well as the result, but in lessons of 
origination the determination of means is essential. For 


, if the pupils are set to make an artistic design, the 
purpose to which the design is to be put must be clearly 
apprehended, and must determine the material in which it 
sh<>ul<l l>e e\pres>ed. These two considerations conjointly 
should suggest the kind of design which is appropriate, and 
onl v by this twofold appropriateness can its value be tested. 
The means being decided upon, the actual execution takes 
phi'v. and of course this should be attended, step by step, 
with criticism of the result so far attained, and with con- 
sequent alterations where desirable and possible. And 
when the whole is finished, a general review and comparison 
of results with original purpose should be made. 

In lessons of this type the teacher should have little or 

no difficulty in arousing desire. The wish to 
Modes of do things and to do them well is inherent in 

d children, and is only crushed with difficulty 

even by such mechanical and deadening 
exercises as are supplied by so many of the draw- 
in-j- rxeivises traditional in our primary schools. The 
.thT functions of the teacher are to lead the children to 
analyse the object of which they are to produce a copy, 
to formulate any general principles of construction that 
may follow from such analysis, and to help the pupils 
to pass just criticisms on the results they have achieved. 
In all this his work should be as suggestive as possible, 
so as to cultivate gradually in the pupils the |, \\.-r to 
dispense with such guidance, though lie should not hesitate 
to express clearly his own opinions on matters of taste and 
beauty, showing, as far as possible, the considerations on 
whi'-h his judgments are based. But it is evident that t lie 
learning mn-t U- mainly thron-h the actual practice of 
Appropriate activities, and. con>e.jin-ntly, the teacher 
should reduce the oral part of such I0MOD1 to the smallest 

limits consistent with effectives 


11. These, then, are the main types of lessons. But the 
classification must not be pressed too rigor- 
ously. Examples of several forms of learn- 
ing may well come in single lessons, and some lessons 
do not fall exactly under either type though they may 
approximate to one. Such, for instance, are many lessons 
in literature which appeal to the imagination, the taste, 
or the emotions, rather than to the intellect. These 
approach sufficiently near to lessons of the first class for 
what was said of them to be broadly applicable, but there 
will be many differences in the details of treatment if the 
different mental effect is to be produced. Such classifica- 
tion of lessons, then, is intended merely as suggestive. 

The essential differences in the processes of learning are 
those which mark off the perceptual from the conceptual 
ad iv it its, and these demand, as has been seen, different 
attitudes on the part of the pupils towards knowledge ; in 
the former case receptive, in the latter inquiring and 
critical. Of course, even this is not absolute ; a child may 
well in< pun' after facts and seek to find new ones, but in 
the presence of the fact he must be willing to accept it for 
what it is; in a word he must be docile. Constructive 
activities are perceptual in their execution, but in their 
origin they may be either perceptual or conceptual. In 
the former case, again, the mind is receptive and docile, 
u.ttrmpting to imitate as closely as possible a given model. 
In the latter case the result to be realised is constructed by 
the mind itself by imagination working on the results of 
conceptual analysis, and the executive process is an attempt 
to give expression to this original idea ; here the mind is 
the faithful executant of its own ideal constructions, it 
copies indeed, but it first supplies the model to be copied. 



1. As the aim of education is to lead the young iiito 

true aud faithful relations of knowing. 

Functions of feeling, and acting in the world in which 

Teaching. their lives are to be passed, so everything 

which is taught them in school must be 

justified by a consideration of the part it plays in this 

general process. 

When this test is applied it becomes evident that lan- 
guage is the most fundamental and one of 

Language aa an the most universal means at the disposal of 

Instrument of . . ... 

Thought. tne educator. Without some system of 

significant signs that general or conceptual 
thought, which organises our experiences so as to make 
tin-in intelligible, would 1x3 impossible. Without such 
signs man could never rise above the intellectual level of 
the l>east ; his litV would be a mere series of perceived 
liap|M'jiings. very imperfectly held together here mid there 
by vaguely apprehended bonds of habit, but in no sense 
understood, and consequently in no sense fitted to guide 
conduct in new circumstances, or to help the individual 
to improve the conditions in which he lives. Kverything 
that 11 characteriltically human in life is, therefore, depend - 
i-nt upon tin* us- of SOUK- form of language, for l;i: 
essentially a s\ 'in of ligni b\ \\hi.-h experiences can bo 



marked, examined, recalled, classified, and generally made 
more or less systematic. 

But we must go further. It must be remembered that 

human life is essentially social. A man does 

Instrument of n t originate his thoughts and live his intel- 

Common Intel- lectual life cut off from his fellows. On the 

' ua l e ' contrary, he lives in free interchange of ideas 
with them, an interchange in which even the most gifted 
individual receives much more than he gives. For he 
receives the results of the accumulated experiences of the 
ages, and in them he finds the inspiration of any addition 
he may make to human wisdom or to human knowledge. 

Such community of intellectual goods is rendered pos- 
sible only by a common language. Were the whole 
world to speak one language, then doubtless increase 
of human knowledge would advance more rapidly than 
it does, for the time now spent in acquiring foreign 
languages could thru U' given to the mastery and utili- 
sation of ideas. The plurality of the languages of civili- 
sation renders it obligatory on all higher schools to teach 
their pupils some of these means of entering into the 
thoughts and lives of other nations. But in the primary 
school this problem does not confront us. The brief 
duration of that school life confines us to the mother 
tongue, and indeed those whose formal instruction ceases 
at fourteen years of age have much more of the thought 
and experience of mankind accessible to them in their 
mother tongue than they are likely to assimilate. 

It may be urged, however, that there is no need to tradi 

the mother tongue, because it is necessarily 

Reasons for acquired in the ordinary intercourse of lilV. 

Mother Tongue. Even when this has not been advanced in 

theory it has frequently been acted on in 

practice, and that in English schools of all grades. But 


we consider what is involved in the conception of 
language as an instrument of culture that is, of ability 
t> shun- in the best thought of man we must acknow- 
ledge that the ordinary intercourse of life does not 
More a sufficient development of that instrument. For, 
surely, it must l>e demanded that language should be both 
c..{.ious and exact. If it is not copious, the mental life is 
starved, for the greater number of men's thoughts are 
unknown and must remain unknown to one who cannot 
understand the terms in which they are expressed. If it 
is not exact the mental Life is largely sterile. Confusion 
of speech implies confusion of thought, for we generally 
think in words, as well as use words to express our thoughts 
to others. He who has no clear and definite meanings 
behind the words he uses has vague and confused thoughts 
himself, and can only attain a vague and confused idea of 

tin- sj ch ,,f others, for that speech conveys to him exactly 

what the ideas it calls up in his mind are worth to him. 
From such confused thoughts no fruitful new thoughts 
an issue. 

Tlii> l"Mii'_: so, surely it cannot be maintained that 
definite instruction in the mother tongue is 

Increased no ( needed, for it would be hard to deny 

Mastery over . , . 

Language. <nat " 1(1 s l M ' <l ''h r many, it no! most, people 

is loth restricted and slipshod. When we 

compare the four or five hundred words which form the 

common sj.-ech of the uneducated with the fifteen 

thousand words or SO of which Shakes] almlary 

see how little the unconscious j.irking-up 

of lan^ua^.- l.y imitation of those around him will do to 

riialil*' a child to read with any understanding works 

<sed largely in what is to him a foreign tongue. 

ire always apt to be milled l.y in-ncral terms. Because 

!i>h ' is a common name for the meagre and slovenly 


speech of ordinary intercourse, and for the language of 
some of the greatest writers the world has seen, we are too 
ready to assume tnat all who can use English in the 
former sense can understand it, even if they do not use it, 
in the latter. This is a profound mistake. Literary 
English is practically a foreign language to a large number 
of English people. It is not only that many of the words 
used convey little, if any, meaning to them, but that the 
constructions are so unfamiliar as to be nearly or quite 
unintelligible, and, above all, that the trains of thought 
are far more continuous than any to which they are accus- 
tomed in ordinary life. 

It follows that the school must teach the mother 
tongue, remembering that it is largely an unknown 
tongue to the pupils, and that unless it is mastered to 
some considerable extent, nearly the whole realm of litera- 
ture is closed to them. When the pupils leave the school 
it is absurd to expect them to find enjoyment in books 
whose language they have but very imperfectly mastered. 
Still more absurd is it if their whole contact with l>ooks 
has been such as to convince them that the muling of 
books is a repellant and utterly uninteresting task. And 
although there has been considerable improvement in 
school reading books of late years, yet it remains true that 
many of those still used in school can be expected to fulfil 
no other function than to disgust their miders. 

This has led us to a further aim the school should have.- 
It should try to rouse in its pupils an interest 

Cultivation of i u literature, an d to give them knowledge of 
Interest in 

Literature. where and how that interest may be satis- 
fied. The reading of good literature is 
one of the best and most easily accessible modes of 
employing the leisure time of life, a time which the work- 
ing classes are rightly striving to increase in amount, but 


which, when badly employed, is no blessing, but a curse. 
The most severe condemnation which ca be passed on any 
school is that it sends its pupils out into the world with 
no tastes developed and no habits formed to lead them 
both in the present and in the future to employ their 
leisure hours in a manner worthy of rational and civilised 

2. The school, then, must seek to train its pupils in both 
the closely related functions of expressing 
Foundations clearly their own ideas and of understanding 
Teaching^ 1 tMr expression of the ideas of others. Its 
general method of doing this should be a 
development of t lie process by which the child learns the 
language of ordinary intercourse. Reduced to its simplest 
terms, lli is is that some more or less clearly apprehended 
idea is connected with its appropriate verbal expression, and 
that a desire to produce that expression arises and starts 
an imitative process which is persisted in until the point is 
reached where the child's verbal expression is understood 
by those around him. Reception and imitative expression 
go hand in hand, and each is dominated by desire and 
interest. For it is not every p..rt ion of the speech of those 
around him that the child tries to reproduce, but only those 
piirtii nis of it which relate to experiences which interest 
him and which he desires to repeat or to avoid. 

When school tea. hinu 1 >egins the young child has already 
taken the first steps in the acquirement of language. 
Hut it is evident, first, that his ideas are vague, imperfect, 
and not infrequently inaccurate as well as extremely 
limit.-d in e.\t.-nt. for they refer only to those thing.- 
which interest him, and the baby U interested in l.iii leu 
things. Secondly, it is plain thai hi- vocabulary is. and 
mu>t be. e.jualU mend and DO And thirdly, it i> 

1 that lr e is al.-o more or less imperfect and 



inexact. This last named characteristic is due to two 
main causes. He has not yet learnt to co-ordinate properly 
the movements of the various organs employed in speech, 
and he has not done this even as far as is physiologically 
possible to him, because those around him have accepted 
his baby utterances as correct, and have even encour- 
aged his imperfections of speech by making his prattle 
the common mode of talking to which his attention 
is drawn. 

3. It is not our purpose in this book to discuss the work 

of the infant school, 1 but it is necessary to 

Language understand its general aims and character 

the^lnSnt, 111 * u orc ^ er ^ ma ^ e the work of the upper 
School. school a natural development of it. Now, in 

tin* teaching of language the essential work of 
the infant school is to increase at once the range of ideas 
and of vocabulary, to secure that the ideas gradually grow 
in clearness, and that there is a corresponding improvement 
in the accuracy and exactness with which speech is used, 
and at the same time to improve articulation and pronun- 

The great means for securing these results is talking. 
The understanding and the use of speech 

Increase in should have made verv considerable advances 

Power of , P -,. -, 

Speech. before reading and writing are begun. 

Every lesson in the school, nay more, every 
piece of intercourse of whatever kind between teacher ami 
pupils, is a lesson both in the understanding and in the use 
of speech. And it should be borne in mind that the former 
precedes the latter. The baby shows that he understands 
words before he can use them, and throughout life the 
vocabulary we can understand is wider than that we 

1 See p. .V>. 


habitually use. The teacher, therefore, whilst always 
talking iii simple language, should not attempt to confine 
her vocabulary within the narrow limits of the actual 
speech of her pupils. She should remember that words 
derive their meaniiii: from the connection and manner in 
which they are used, and she may and should employ many 
words which her pupils do not use, only taking care that 
their reference and meaning stand out clearly. Never 
should she attempt to teach the meaning of a new word by 
definition. That is not how children pick up speech. A 
definition is the end of many experiences of the use of the 
word, not the U'ginning thereof. 

Bearing in mind that speech is essentially learnt through 
imitation, the teacher should take care that her own use of 
words is accurate, exact, and appropriate, and that her 
sentences and questions are well constructed ; in short, she 
should, as a teacher as well as an individual, strive to 
cultivate in herself the habit of clear and exact expression. 
She will not demand or expect that her little pupils 
shall express themselves as well as she does. She will 
recognise that in speech as in other forms of human 
activity, pert'vti>n ,>nly comes through much practice, 
I >_:! im inu r at first in crudest imitation, and gradually 
improving as proficiency is slowly attained. She will 
give no formal lessons in expression, but she will gently 
suggest improved forms of setting forth meaning by 
drawing the child little by little to make what he 
wishes to say clear first to himself and then to 


Similarly, sin- will ^radiially lead him on to a fuller and 

fuller xj.ivssimi nl' what is in his mind, and in that way 

cultivate in him tin- iM-Lrinnings <>f the power of continuous 

expression. She will not he keen to mark faults of c.n- 

t ; "ii ; she may well leave that in great part to the senior 


school, but she will aim at securing clearness of arrange- 
ment as an essential part of clearness of expression. Her 
chief aim will be to develop fluency and confidence, and 
to train in consecutive thought and expression. Every 
lesson, as has been said, is a means for doing this, and 
every lesson should be so used. Of course, the continuity 
of expression attained will in any case be small. The 
thoughts of little children are fragmentary and incomplete 
on every subject, and the teacher in these early years 
tries only to get real childish thought expressed in natural 
childish language. 

It is only natural modes of expression that she will en- 
courage. Hence, though she will train her little pupils to 
express themselves in sentences when they are narrating 
or describing, she will carefully avoid the unintelligent 
pedantry which insists on every answer to a question being 
couched in a ' complete sentence.' Whether a sentence is a 
suitable answer to a question depends on the form of the 
question ; to require it at all times is to depart widely from 
the use of language as a medium for the interchange of 
ideas. Question and answer frequently express between 
t In MIL but one fact or one idea, and continuity of thought in 
the child's mind is only secured when tin- answer he gives 
expresses the end of the thought which began with his appre- 
hension of the question. To demand that in answer to such 
a question as, " What do you see on the table ? " a child 
should reply, " I see a book on the table," is actually to 
hinder, and that seriously, the use of language as a ready 
expression of thought, for it compels the child to pause till 
he has arrested his thought, and, as it were, stood it on its 
head, before he presents it for acceptance. Moreover, can 
any means be imagined much better calculated to convince 
the child that life and language in the school are very 
different things from the real life and language outside, 


and so to promote that dislocation between school and life 
which is the most fatal obstacle to educative effort? 

The teacher's interest in developing at once her 
pupils' mental life and their power of ex- 
P lvssin ^ r it must not however, lead her to 
forget that improvement in the mechanism 
of speech is also to l)e sought. Continual practice in 
faulty utterance makes correction of such defects more 
and more difficult, until their cure becomes practically 
impossible. In all speech exercises, therefore, the teacher 
should endeavour to effect a gradual improvement in the 
clearness and purity of utterance of her pupils. To do this 
and yet not to hinder the development of fluency, to care for 
the mechanism of speech without, by interference with its 
working, clogging the freedom of that working, is one of 
tin- tine arts of teaching and the outcome of that sympa- 
thetic tact which no text-book can teach. All a book can 
do is to urge the conjoined aim on the teacher's attention. 

In order to train utterance effectively it is essential 
that tin' teacher should be at home in the theory as well as 
in the practice of speech ; she should not only herself 
possess a clear and pure utterance, but she should have 
studied the mechanism and mode of working of the vocal 
organs. For the child must learn to articulate clearly and 
to pronounce corn dly by imitation, and early imitation is 
made more effective when it is possible to copy the process 
as well as the result. To be able to show a child how t < 
use his vocal organs in order t< produce certain sounds is, 
then, a necessary part of the teacher's out lit. 

It is not our function to set forth the theory of utter- 
ance: in this, as in other subjects, we must assume that 
the tea. -her has the knowledge, and try to suggest how 
that knowledge may be effectively brought to bear on 
teaching. Sufli'-e it, then, to say that special attention 


should be paid to the mode in which the children breathe, 
and that short courses of breathing exercises should be fre- 
quent and regular parts of the school work. The correct 
use of lips and tongue in speaking should also receive 
regular attention. Many of these exercises can profitably 
be used in common by the whole class provided they are 
said softly, as they will tend to cure faults of utterance 
almost universal amongst children. But every district 
has its own special faults, and to the correction of these 
more particular attention should be paid. It is not 
meant that the infant school teacher should endeavour 
to eliminate such provincial modes of pronunciation as 
do not render speech indistinct, but that she should 
note and make a list of those which tend to render 
utterance obscure. These will generally be found to be 
connected with the consonants rather than with the vowels, 
and with the connections of words rather than with the 
pronunciation of single words. Jingle rhymes bringing in 
the difficulties over and over again such as the familiar 
' Peter Piper ' and quick patter rhymes are amongst the 
most effective ways for helping the children to overcome 
their faults of articulation. 

Though much speech drill may be done collectively so 
long as the groups are small, yet it must be remembered 
that correction of faults of utterance is as individual as 
utterance itself. If the group doing collective work is so 
large that the utterance of any one child is merged in 
the collective utterance, there will often be children who 
simply repeat their faults unknown both to themselves 
a nd to their teacher. Hence, it is evident that correction of 
faults of utterance must be largely individual, and must 
be as constant as the child's speech. In other words, whilst 
short set lessons on utterance will find a place in the school, 
yet the function of these is rather to focus and to emphasise 


instruction that is going on in every lesson. The teacher 
will do well to keep a record of each child's individual 
faults of utterance, and, during the set lessons in speech, 
to give him special drill in overcoming them. Many 
faults peculiar to individuals will be found as well as those 
more or less common to all the children in a class. 

Finally, it may be pointed out that the acquirement of 
skill in utterance, like every other kind of skill, is a 
gradual process. The teacher, therefore, will not expect 
immediate perfection, but will be satisfied if her pupils 
approach continuously, though gradually, nearer to the 
>tandard she sets up for their imitation. 

So far we have spoken only of training in language as 
an instrument of thought and the expres- 

sion f thou g ht - The hi g her aim of llsil ^ 
language as a means of bringing the child's 
mind into relation with tin nights and experiences which 
lie outside his own narrow life must not be forgotten. 
This is the first function of literature, and even in the 
infant school literature must have its place. Of course, 
it will IN> very simple literature, for it must appeal to the 
hild, tin nigh in a sense it takes him out of himself. 

The competent infant teacher will have a copious 
store ii-y tales, of simple verse, and of other 

forms of literature suitable to very young children, and 
she will have cultivated the power of telling them brightly 
and attractively. Such telling of stories and recitation of 
-imple verse, which by its well marked rhythm gives the 
;.-'liii'_ r f-r literary form, should form part of the work 
of every day. The telling of the story or recital of the 
verse should not be interrupted by explanations or by 
questioning as to meanings of words and phrases. That 
'..\ ilie whole effect by dragging the child out of 
the \\oHd ,,f fancy and feeling into which the story should 


lead him into the dry matter of fact world of dull 
'lessons.' The primary appeal of the literature lesson 
is not to the child's reason, but to his imagination and 

Stories thus told by the teacher may ba told again by the 
children on another occasion, not as tasks but as rewards. 
And the children may also be encouraged to tell in 
class stories they have been told at home. Not every 
story need be new ; children love to hear their favourite 
stories over and over again. Nevertheless, a teacher needs 
an extensive collection to meet the tastes and needs of 
children of various temperaments and likings, and to avoid 
monotony. Some teachers have a natural gift for com- 
posing little attractive stories, and this is good. But even 
then the old stories should have their place ; they are the 
children's rightful heritage. And if a teacher cannot 
originate a good story she had far better tell one she has 
read than make up a poor and dull one. 

With the very youngest such stories should be told, but 
as soon as it can be done without losing the interest of the 
little ones, reading should, little by little, be substituted for 
telling. For this there are two main reasons. In the first 
place, the written story has a more perfect literary form 
than most teachers can give the told story, and the Inibil na- 
tion of the children to good literary form should begin 
early. In the second place, the reading of interesting 
stories from books is the surest way of provoking in the 
children the desire to read for themselves. 

4. This leads us to consider briefly the first steps in the 

teaching of reading. It is customary now to 

Teaching of postpone these to a later year of child life 

Reading and than was formerly common, and some even 

urge the postponement till six or even seven 

years of age. The reason usually given for this is that the 


young child should be occupied with things rather than 
words a reason which is altogether beside the mark, un- 
less it be assumed that when once a child begins to read 
he is going to do little or nothing else. Of course, a child's 
being able to read need not, and should not, imply that he 
spends a large part of his time over books or that he 
ceases to be interested in things and events. To the ques- 
tion of the age at which the teaching of reading should be 
begun no general answer can be given. Children vary 
much in the facility with which they develop power in 
language a variation partly innate and partly due to 
their surroundings. As soon as a child has a fair com- 
mand over spoken language, both in understanding and in 
employing it, and a desire to learn to read, then the ap- 
propriate time has arrived for teaching him. Nor is the 
learning a task requiring much development of mental 
power. A child finds no more difficulty in recognising 
printed words than in recognising other small objects in 
whieh he feels an interest. And such recognition is the 
fundamental fact in reading. 

The question of the best method of teaching a child to 
read is, therefore, simply an inquiry into how 

best to hel P him to such recognition. If 
this were acknowledged many of the disputes 
alwut the matter would be set at rest. If once it is grasped 
that a written or printed word is a thing to be re.-ognised 
a picture of a familiar sound it is seen that the child will 
set about recognising it just in the same way as he sets 
about learning to recognise any other new object. And 
that is by grasping it as a whole, and attaching to it the 
name he h-ars other people use in referring to it. 

The first steps in reading, as in all other knowledge, are 
by imitation ami tin- formation of habit. The cliiM learns 
b\ imitation to call an object a cat : equalK b\ imitation 
PE. TO. 8 



he calls a printed symbol ' cat,' and he no more confuses 
the printed symbol with the object than he does the spoken 
word. He is quite capable of understanding that we may 
talk to the eye as well as to the ear. And as by constant 
repetition his recognition of the object and his power to 
name it become instantaneous, so similarly by practice does 
his power to recognise and name the written or printed 
word. And just as we find that recognition of objects 
becomes more sure and ready when the child is allowed 
to draw their forms in his own imperfect way, so it is with 
the recognition of written or printed words. Such drawing 
we call writing. 

From these general considerations it appears that the 
method by which the child learns to read is to recognise 
and name printed or written words by imitation and repeti- 
tion, ami that this process is accelerated when from the 
first writing is combined with reading. 

Whatever method the teacher adopts in teaching, this 
is, and must be, the method of learning ; 
M^h ^ etfcer> an( l evidently, the best method of teaching 
is that which most aids and accelerates the 
natural method of learning. Many disquisitions on 
methods of teaching the first steps of reading apparently 
assume that the child approaches the matter in a severely 
logical and critical spirit. So we have violent tirades against 
the traditional ' alphabetic ' method of begin- 
n * u ^ w ^li learning to name the letters and 
then spelling each word, on the ground that 
the names of the letters when combined do not give the sound 
of the word. Of course they do not ; that never was their 
function. The letter-names are names of the constituent 
parts of printed words, and their function is to describe in 
speech the appearance of a word when written or printed. 
To object to them that they do not describe the word as 


hoard is no more to the point than it would be to object to 
an enumeration of the head, body, legs, tail, etc., of a dog, 
on tin- ground that the combination of these does not give 
the dog's bark. 

That for centuries children have learned to read when 
their teacher has followed the alphabetic method is certain. 
But it is equally certain that no child ever learned to read 
by that method: he learned in spite of it The child is 
not trouble 1 by the supposed logical difficulty that the 
sounds dee, o, gee, when combined do not give the sound dog, 
simply because the difficulty never enters into his head. 
He is busy learning to recognise the complete word and as 
soon as he does this the d, o, g sink into their proper places 
as merely names of parts of that complete whole. 

The true objection to the alphabetic method is that it is 
1 v like insisting on a child attending separately to a 
dog's head, body, legs, tail, etc., before allowing ii to appre- 
hend and name the animal as a whole. Thus it hinders 
the eliild by milking him attend to letters as independent 
things, when they should at first remain involved in the 
word, to which as a whole his attention should be 

i. Just as the differentiation of parts follows r< 
nit in of a whole hi the case of other objects, so it should 
be in the case of those objects we call visible words. In 
the history of mankind it was the same with spoken 
language. Men could talk long before they analysed their 
speech into letters. Language was long precedent to 

course, equally to all the various 

methods of teaching r, liich are called 

Methods 'phonic' ,.r 'phonetic' and which IM-^'IU by 

teach iiiL: the sounds of ni'-th>d^ 

are oft. MI put forth as botii logically and p-ycholo^i- 

ealK re m-ither. Th-y are not logically 


defensible, because they attempt to reach familiar sounds 
through those that are unfamiliar and because they confuse 
the analysis of the visible word with that of the spoken word, 
and as reading is the connection of these two, the results 
of the analysis of the one have as much and as little 
right to be made the foundation of the process as have 
those of the other. They are not psychologically sound, 
because the child has learnt to say words as wholes, because 
he apprehends all objects first as wholes, and because the 
apprehension of parts naturally follows the apprehension 
of wholes. 

That children learn to read when the teacher uses this 
method is also certain, but, as when the ' alphabet ' method 
is followed by the teacher, the child learns just in so far as 
he disregards the teacher's method. We do not mean that 
this disregard is intentional and deliberate, but simply that 
the child learns to read words just as fast as he apprehends 
them as wholes. 

But when a child in learning to read is made to 
attend to each letter separately, whether by its letter- 
name or by its sound- value which is, of course, to 
him only another letter-name its whole energies are 
directed to connecting a certain utterance with a visible 
symbol. Consequently, it is common to find in children 
thus taught a mechanical power of saying words aloud in 
response to seeing them on a printed page, which is errone- 
ously called reading. A child really reads only when the 
visible symbol calls up immediately an idea, and it is true 
reading whether he utters the spoken symbol of that idea 
or not. All teaching to read by making the child attend 
to letters and to their combination as a further conscious 
process tends to produce that very common and very sad 
result which is often, though absurdly, called ' reading 
without intelligence.' 


It is such objections as these, and not those due to the 
unphonetic curiosities of English, cogent and unanswer- 
able as they are, which lead us to reject all methods of 
teaching, alphaMic or phonetic, which begin by compelling 
attention to the constituents of words before the words are 
apprehended as wholes. 

We do not say that phonic analysis has no worth 
It has its place, but that place is not in the 
Place of fi rs t steps of reading. So, too, it is needful 

Analysis. ^ know the names of the letters, though that, 

again, is not the first step in reading. Whether 
tl i. -so names are taught before or after reading is begun 
matters nothing, so long as they are not referred to in the 
early muling lessons. It is the same with phonic analysis. 
It s value is to help in securing correct utterance, and when- 
ever u teacher corrects a spoken word the correction is made 
by hel] <>f the results of phonic analysis. Certain move- 
ments of the vocal chords have become associated with the 
production of certain sounds. When phonic analysis is 
brought into connection with reading all that is done is to 
make the letters stand as signs of these movements. Thus, 
just as when a child can read the word ' stand ' the teacher 
can write it on the blackboard as a sign for a certain move- 
ment of the whole body, so, when phonic analysis is entered 
upon, the letter ' f,' for example, stands for placing tongue. 
li|s. and teeth in a definite relation to each other. Hence, 
bv j.honic analysis letters become signs of movements in the 
organs movements which are already habitual but 
which have not hitherto been consciously apprehended in 

This INMII:: K>, it is evident that the time for phonic 

t'ter the child can re. id a g.iod many words. 

and that its .-hi,-!' function is to help him to say \\..rds OS 

unfamiliar in their visible form, and, by sax ing. 


recognise them as signs of familiar ideas. The more 
automatically this is done the better : the value and success 
of the process is not in making the so-called letter-sounds 
which in the case of consonants are obviously wrong, for 
consonants have no sound-values by themselves but in 
putting the vocal organs successively and rapidly into 
certain positions. But further, such phonic analysis draws 
the child's attention more explicitly to the exact form of 
the word, so that he is less likely in future to articulate 
it indistinctly or to confuse it with other words similar 
in ;ij)j)c iranre. That such confusion is made is one of 
the arguments brought by those who advocate one or other 
of the letter methods against the method of teaching 
whole words from the first. But such mistakes in recogni- 
tion are to be expected in the early stages. Children 
make thrm ill all departments of their experience, Imt 
nobody seeks the cure in an attempt to compel children 
to postpone the recognition of an object till they have 
naiiit'l all its parts. Why then should we do so in reading ? 

The method of teaching reading, therefore, which har- 
monises with the method of learning is one 
which begins with words, which connects 
writing with reading, which introduces phonic analysis 
later as a help to the recognition of other words, and, 
above all, which continually connects visible symbol with 
idea, which treats reading, indeed, as the understanding 
of visible talking. 

Whether the first steps be taken with printed letters 
or script matters not at all. In either case, the children 
will have learnt to draw the necessary forms in earlier 
drawing lessons, whether they have been taught to give 
those forms the alphabetic names or not. 

But even with the best and most interesting teacher 
children soon tire of these early steps in reading, and to 


destroy their desire to leara is fatal. That above all must 
l>e kept alive. The lessons should, therefore, at first be very 
short, iiot more than ton minutes each. But as the process 
is so much the format i< >n of lial it , ami as frequency of repeti- 
tion is one of the moat rapid ami certain ways of establishing 
lial >it s. s. > tlu'se very short le>s.>ns should be frequent two 
<>r three every day would not be too many. Very few 
words should U> taken in each. They should be words which 
name objects in which the children are interested, and 
should be repeated frequently in different connections. So 
will progress l)e sure and interest be maintained, not only 
by the subjects chosen, but by the sense of successful effort 
felt by flu- children. The words should not be taken in 
tin* order of their length, but in that of the familiarity and 
closeness of appeal to the children's interests of the ideas 
they ivpres* 'iit . When the teacher proceeds by either of 
the letter methods length of words is, no doubt, an 
important factor in his mind. But to the child that is 
piite unimportant; he recognises a horse or a cow as 
readily as a cat or a teacup. Indeed, lon^ words have a 
n.ti<-e;ible attraction for children so long as those words 
raise in their minds interesting ideas. 



1. WE have seen that when a child leaves the infant 
school his knowledge of the mother tongue 
The General should include a fund of simple stories \\liirh 
ke remembers and can tell in childish lan- 
guage, and of pretty verse which he can re- 
peat ; some power of expressing his ideas intelligibly and 
connectedly ; the beginnings of habits of clear and distinct 
utterance; and ability to read very simple and familiar 
language and to copy short sentences in writing. 

The work of the upper school is to increase this know- 
ledge and to develop this skill, and every fresh advanc - 
should grow out of the stage already reached. Throughout, 
the teacher should keep in view the aim of developing in his 
pupils the threefold power to enter into the expression of the 
thoughts of others, to feel the joy of appreciating beauty 
both in ideas and in expression, and to express their own 
thoughts and feelings clearly and appropriately both lv 
word of mouth and by writing. In the senior school, how- 
ever, the various branches of this instruction become nioiv 
differentiated from each other, and it will be better, there- 
fore, to discuss each branch by itself, though in actual 
school work each should, as far as is practicable, be madr 
to bear upon each. 



2. The chief reason for teaching the mother tongue in 
school is, as has been said, that the ordinary 
Reading to restricted intercourse of the child with those 
Teacher around him does not supply him with a suf- 

ficiently copious stock either of ideas or of 
words. It is only from intercourse with others that this 
enrichment of the mental and moral life can take place, 
and, consequently, the school must enlarge the circle of 
intercourse, and the most important way of doing this 
introduce the child to books which interest him and 
so call forth mid stimulate the desire to think and talk 
about the things they contain. And, obviously, the more 
restricted intellectually are the child's home surroundings 
tin- greater is the responsibility thrown on the school to 
attempt to widen the mental horizon and to evoke and 
stimulate intellect ual tastes and desires. 

It follows that to habituate its pupils to intercourse 
with bonks is one of the chief functions of the school. 
Sin-h intercourse may be either indirect or direct. It is 
indirect when the pupils listen to a passage read to them 
by their teacher, and still more so when he tells them a 
An words. Such tolling and reading of stories 
have the same function and values in the lower classes 
of the senior school as they have in the infant school, 
aii-1. t>r the reasons already given, reading should more 
and more prepnn l.-iMte over telling. It gives the children 
new id6M; it enlarges at once their thoughts and their 
speech; it prompts them to desire to master the art of 
reading more perfectly. Even in the upper classes read- 
ing to the pupils by the teacher has its place. It brings 
re them U-iiiitit'iil passages of literature outside the 
of the IHM.KS to \vhidi they have access, and when 
well done it make> them appreciate the music <>!' words in 
ft Way their ,,wn private ivadin- mi-.rht m>t do. 


the school course, then, the teacher should regularly read 

to his pupils passages of prose and verse selected on the 

grounds both of beauty of form and of nobility of idea. 

3. But such indirect intercourse with books is only 

auxiliary to the direct intercourse through 

^Reading 6 readin g- This wil1 not * made real and 
effective unless it is borne in mind that 
i vailing is essentially a mental act. It is the suggestion >!' 
ideas by visible symbols. Beading aloud is an addition to 
this process and by no means essential to it, just in the same 
way that the recognition of a cat or other object may be 
perfect without the utterance of its name. The con- 
fusion of these two quite distinct processes is one of the 
most common faults of the school. As the power of 
reading is usually tested in examinations by reading aloud, 
so the whole effort of the teacher is too often applied t<> 
securing this power. But it is matter of common experi- 
ence that such ' reading may be a mere mechanical series 
of utt era net's without any undercurrent of ideas. Some 
centuries ago boys were taught to 'read' Latin words 
aloud, that is, to utter certain sounds on the sight of cer- 
tain combinations of letters without having any idea of 
what the words meant. Much reading aloud of English 
in schools is little better. The true proof that a child can 
read is, not that he can utter sounds in response to visible 
symbols, but that he can give an intelligent account of the 
matter he has read. 

Beading and elocution, then, are two different things, 
which may be, but are not necessarily, con- 
Reading Aloud, nected. And of these the former is the 
more important. The aim of the teacher of 
reading should be, then, to give the pupils the power to 
master books by themselves. To this, reading aloud should 
be auxiliary. In the lower classes, at any rate, the chief 


object of practising children in reading aloud is to aid 
tlirni in attaining the power to read to themselves. The 
child reads al'iil in order that tin- teacher may know how 
the | n'oing on. and si i assist in perfecting it. The 

essence of reading is that th<> visible symbols are recognised 
easily and accurately, and that they are grouped properly. 
When the child represents the printed symbols by equi- 
valent spoken symbols the teacher can discover what 
mistakes he makes and what difficulties he encounter^. 
and so help him to ovc-rcome them. 

It is very doubtful whether hearing the words as well 
as seeing them is a help to the beginner in raising the 
ideas they represent. The child's tendency is to make only 
the association between visible symbol and spoken sound, 
and to omit the association between either or both of these 
and thought. So that the teacher has constantly to induce 
the children to talk about what they have read to ensure 
that their * reading ' is a real mental act. Until the initial 
difficulties of recognising printed symbols and grouping 
them are overcome there must be a good deal of reading 
aloud. Hut it should never exclude silent reading, and 
both should always be tested by requiring a reproduction 
..1 the matter read. Inability to give such a reproduction 

is a proof that there has 1 n no real reading, no matter 

how fluent the mechanical utterance may have been. 

I When the mechanical difficult ies of reading are over- 
ie. reading aloud still holds its place OS 
* 3 an exerc i se * n elocution. Before this stage 
.idied all elocution exercises are of speech, 
Mich as the repetition ,,f passages learnt by heart. It is true 
that the p'.wer <.f really fine do.-iition is no more universal 
than is the p.. \\er, if really fine siiiu r inu r . Hut ><>me amount of 
li-.nary skill may l>e reached by all \\ho>,- \,,,-;i| organs 
are lioi fin, d, uncut. ills def,-.-ti\e. All can be taii-l 


read aloud so as to convey the meaning of the author in a 
way not unpleasant to the hearer. And passages which 
are specially beautiful in form only impress the mind 
with their full force when they are heard. The pupils 
should, therefore, be encouraged and trained to read aloud 
poetry and rhetorical prose, even when they are reading 
privately for their own enjoyment. 

Good renderings can obviously only be given of passages 
whose meaning has been mastered. We do not expect 
even an expert musician to express the soul of a work 
which he has not studied through and through. Yet 
children are too often called upon to read aloud with 
true feeling and expression passages they have never seen 
before. No doubt a good reader that is, one really 
familiar with books will do some justice to such a 
passage, just as the musician will in his rendering of 
an unseen piece. But the true test of the power of the 
one as of the other is not what he makes of the thing at 
sight, but what he can find in it and get out of it after 
careful study. 

Elocution in reading is, then, a different thing with a 
different function from what is commonly known as ' read ing 
aloud.' The latter indirectly aids the child in learning to 
read by making the teacher's help more available; the 
former is only possible when the child can already read, 
and read well relatively to the piece to be rendered. Yet 
elocutionary reading should be the outcome of reading 
aloud, and will be so if only the reading aloud is kept in 
continual touch with real reading, and is never allowed to 
ignore the connection of words with thoughts. 

The highest qualities of elocution, indeed, will not 
be developed in the school. But intelligibility and 
pleasantness of delivery may be secured. These depend 
upon clear and distinct articulation, correct pronunciation, 


fluent but not over rapid utterance as more mechanical 
qualities ; and upon correct phrasing, emphasis, and modu- 
lation as more intellectual and emotional qualities. The 
former characteristics may be developed, and not infre- 
quently are developed, in a mechanical manner, and the re- 
sult is the soulless ' reading ' with which we are all familiar. 
The latter can only come truly out of an appreciation of the 
spirit and meaning of the passage, and every attempt to 
produce them otherwise as by direct imitation of the 
teacher's rendering leads to an artificiality that is posi- 
tively painful to the hearer and educationally deadening 
to the reader. It is obvious that the training of such 
habits of mechanical utterance is even worse than a waste 
of time : it is a misuse of it. As Professor Dowden says : 
The reading which we should try to cultivate is intelli- 
gent reading, that is, it should express the meaning of each 
passage clearly; sympathetic reading, that is, it should 
convey the feeling delicately; musical reading, that is, it 
should move in accord with the melody and harmony of 
what is read, be it prose or verse." 1 

5. These, then, being our aims, we have to consider 

briefly how reading lessons may be conducted 

Principles of profitably. We lay down no hard and fast 

Teaching 1 rules, for mechanical adherence to one set 

Reading. i'-nii of lesson is deadening in its monotony 

both to teacher and to taught. But a few 

general ]rim-i|>l's may l>e stated. 

With children who have not yet mastered the art of read- 
ing. mostof tin- time -,'iven to t hat subject will 

U ' s l"' nt '" rcadin g aloud - What is wanted 
i< j'lrnty of |>ra<'tire, ami it is. therefore, 
obvious that tin* smaller the class the better. \Vln-n the 
teacher has a large cla- it i- \\rll to take th- rhiMivn in 
'//OH Tli> I /t ih Literature. 


small groups for oral reading, whilst the rest of the class 
does some form of work on paper or engages in silent reading. 
The attempt to increase the amount of practice by calling 
on a class to read simultaneously is not to be commended. 
Such exercises tend to monotony of utterance and expression ; 
moreover, individual faults are effectually covered up, tind 
so the child goes on forming bad habits of speech. 

The lesson may well begin with some vocal drill on one 
or two of the errors in utterance to which the 
children are most prone of which the teacher 
should, of course, have made a list selected in view of the 
actual difficulties likely to occur in this piece. The general 
mode of dealing with this is not different from that out- 
lined in speaking of infant school work. l 

After this drill the children should usually read a passage 
to themselves, if they have not already done 
so, to make out its general drift, and their 
success can be tested by one or two pointed questions. 
If they are unused to this exercise a question may be 
proposed to them before they read, so that in the reading 
their attention may be directed to finding the answer. 
When the general meaning has been found individual 
reading should follow. This the teacher 
should not interrupt by corrections, but he 
should note errors and deal with them at the end. To in- 
terrupt the reading is to take the children's attention off 
the meaning and concentrate it on the mere utterance. 
Of errors made there are two main kinds, those due to 
failure to understand the passage and those 
Mistakes^ ^ ue ^ * ner causes, such as mere faults in 
pronunciation, or the kind of verbal slip that 
we all make at times and which makes no difference to the 
sense. The former can only be effectively dealt with by 
1 See pp. 109-11. 


loading the child who made the error to see the true sense 
t' tlu' passage, which ho should then be set to read again. 
:i tliis will develop into a general effort on the part of 
thf class to find the true mode of expression. 

Mistakes of pronunciation are met by telling the child 
the true pronunciation, or asking if any other child 
knows it. The latter plan has the advantage of showing 
the teacher whether it is desirable to give the whole class 
practice in saying that word, or whether only one pupil 
needs be cured. But to have the whole class on the pounce 
to find mistakes is bad in every way. It is true it may 
make the children 'attentive/ but it makes them attentive 
to the wrong thing to the shortcomings of others instead 
of to the meaning of the passage read, and consequently 
inattentive to the meaning of what they are reading. 

Mere slips, when quite unimportant and infrequent, may 
be ignored. When less unimportant the teacher may draw 
tin' attention of the reader to the mistake. But when 
slips become frequent on the part of any pupil they indicate 
tin- formation of a slipshod habit of mind which is not 
careful to seize the exact thought of the passage read. In 
this case tin- mistakes should be treated as faults of 
carelessness ; the child should be reproved and the pas 
read again in ]\\> l.-isun- time. 

The teacher is aiming at having the passage understood, 

and at training the children to express by 

Expressioif ^ e vo ^ 06 what they understand. An<l no 

one who has heard children talk to each 

other can doubt that they have the power of expres 

what they feel and think. The reason their reading 

is often so expressionless and wooden is because they <lo 

II- .t 1. < 1 o i tho matter, either because it is of the 

wrong kind, or because their attention is so fixed on 

connect in B06 with visible symbols that they never 


think of it at all. The remedy for the former is obvious, 
and there is now-a-days no excuse for unsuitable books 
being used in school. The remedy for the latter is also 
obvious. Lead the children by conversation to enter into 
the piece and they can express it well enough. 

In no case is the true remedy for the teacher to give a 
pattern-reading of the piece and then call upon the child 
or even the class simultaneously to imitate that rendering. 
This practice has done much to produce the dreary artificial 
oral ' reading ' of which we find so many examples in schools. 
That the teacher should read regularly to the children has 
been already insisted upon, and this should set a model of 
good reading before them. But the influence of that model 
will be general, not a special and mechanical copying. 

The teacher's work, then, is to help the children first to 
understand and feel what they are reading, and then to 
overcome the physical and mechanical difficulties of vocal 
expression. This requires insight and tact. For while 
the teacher should be on his guard against doing too much 
for his pupils, he must yet bear in mind that his share is 
important though unobtrusive. He must remember that 
merely to hear reading is not to teach reading. 

As the pupils master the art of reading 
ii. With Elder more perfectly, a larger proportion of their 
reading should be silent, and, as was pointed 
out in an earlier chapter, much of the learning which is 
now done through oral lessons should be done by means 
of reading. 1 The number of oral reading lessons will, 
therefore, gradually decrease, though the total amount of 
time given to reading should increase. 

As the habit of clear and distinct utterance becomes 
more firmly fixed the oral reading lessons will deal more 
and more with matters of expression, less and less with 
1 See pp. 82-3. 


mutters of articulation. But it must be borne in mind 
that good expressive reading is impossible unless the 
mechanical qualities of clear and distinct utterance have 
been secured. It is only when these have become automatic 
that the mind can use them as facile instruments in the 
expression of thought and feeling. Hence, the need for 
drill in the mechanical factors of elocution will not 
cease, though it becomes less and less in amount. 

The most essential point to secure is correct phrasing. 
No mechanical rules, such as determining 
pauses by punctuation marks should be 
u r iveu. The true function of punctuation marks is to 
make the construction clearer, and attention should be 
fixed not on them but on the meaning. Every separate 
picture element' or 'idea element' presented by the 
passage should be marked by a pause whether there are 
stops or not, and that pause should be of greater or less 
duration according to the degree of closeness of connection 
between the elements. As, for example, 

" On one side | lay the Ocean, || and on one | 
Lay a great water, || and the moon | was full." 

where a pause should be made at each vertical line. 

Thus, correct phrasing is the expression of a clear under- 

'ling of the elements which together compose the whole 

which tin- mind of tin- hearer has to const met. 
Next to phrasing comes emphasis, and this evidently 
depends on apprehension of meaning. By 
varying the emphasis the meaning .-an | l( > 
varied. For example, "And he said to his sous. 
me the aus,' and they saddled him;" if read \\ilh the 
emphasis on tin- last \\.-P 1 suggests a meaning quite 
B that -iven when the >t re>s is laid Oil 


PE. TO. 9 


In addition to stress on particular words, emphasis is 
given to phrases or clauses by variation in the rate of 
reading. A passage read more slowly than the rest and 
with stress on each word stands out most prominently, even 
though it be read softly. Such emphasis is the outcome 
not only of intellectual grasp of meaning, but of a feeling 
of the relative values of the various constituent parts of 
the whole passage. 

Modulation of voice is positively offensive when it is not 
the natural expression of the felt meaning 
and force of the passage. It is essentially a 
largely unconscious variation of pitch due to the emotional 
influence of the ideas expressed. Thus, passages vary 
enormously in the amount and kind of modulation 
appropriate to them. A mere statement of bald fact, such 
as 'London is the largest city in the world,' requires 
scarcely any modulation. Such statements of fact should 
be read, as an intelligent person would state them, in a 
plain, matter of fact way. But when the passage expr, 
some strong emotion, as 

' Ah. miserable and unkind, untrue, 
Unknightly, traitor-hearted ! W<M> is me ! 

Authority forgets a dyini: kinjj, 

I*iid widowM < f the power in his eye 

That bow'd the will. I see thrr what thou art, 

For thou, the latest-left of all my knights 

In whom should meet the offices of all, 

Thou wouldst betray me for the precious hilt ; 

Kit her from lust of gold, or like a girl 

Valuing the giddy pleasure of the eys." 

its effective rendering requires much both of emphasis 
and of modulation. But the only true source of such 
effective rendering is that the reader enters into the 
emotion expressed, identifies himself with it, and so u-ivrs 
utteranro to it as the expression of his own life. To 


help him in every way possible to do this is the teacher's 

Closely allied with modulation is difference in quality of 
tone which trives to poeiry or prose its musical character. 
This is oli it- to the values given to the constituent parts of 
the words- the length, openness, and sonority of the 
vowels, and the greater or less force of the consonants. 

Thus, whichever way we look at it, we see that good 
reading aloud has its root in an established relation between 
the mind of the reader and that of the writer of the passage 
read. This relation acts on a certain mechanism of 
musical voice production, and renders it intelligent, sym- 
pathetic, and in harmony with the thought and feeling 
of the 

These qualities are necessary to all effective reading 
aloud. But when the reading attempts to 
Poetr?* render poetry it requires yet other excellen- 
cies, or rather special forms of the excellencies 
already considered. For the distinction between poetry 
and prose is a very real one, and to obscure it in the render- 
ing is t fnil in the first requisite of good reading. In an on 1th //////// <>it<l Hlii/nie, Mr. G. Bourne admirably 
brin ITS out the special points to which the reader of poetry 
should have n-gard. We will venture to give them in his 
own words : 

It is the function it is the characteristic feature 

rse, to utilise in words a .polity of resonance which 

they all have; a vibrant force of sound scarce audible in 

them singly, but of wonderful power when they are made 

to pulsate together. Fn prose words are at best but muted 

strings; in poetry t hey riiiu r out full-toned, and tin- reader's 

made more sensitive to each word's meaning. As 

the production of this ton,- is the making of poetry, so the 

hearing of it) f he reading of poetry. . . . 


It is always true that there is no poetry for those who do 
not hear the sound of lines ; and in order to hear lines, it is 
necessary to value the sound, and especially the duration of 
the sound of single syllables. . . . The cessation of a 
poet's line is almost as important as the progress of it. It 
comes in its due place by a natural law, which is no wanton 
convention, but which it is wantonness to ignore. And the 
same holds good with stanzas also ; the strong beat set up 
by the grouping demands an equally marked cessation of 
sound at the appointed moment. One would say that the 
poet must create a silence in which he can be heard ; but 
what is most strange is that the silence itself may become a 
valuable aid to the poet in emphasising his meaning. Of 
course, not every poem uses this effect. . . . The point 
is that poetry may do this thing with a certainty most 
enviable by the prose writer, who can but dot in his pitiful 
row of asterisks and hope that the reader will check at 
them." 1 

In addition to the marking of the rhythmic structure 
of verse by phrasing and modulation and stress, the 
function of rhyme must not be neglected. "The clock 
ticks regularly through its hour and then strikes; the 
poem tells out its even syllables, and their periods are 
chimed out in rhymes. First and last that is rhyme's chief 
function, to emphasise and regulate the rhythmical time. 
. . . But the great masters of words often adapt it to a 
further use. The two rhymed words in a stanza are above 
all the others conspicuous. If therefore the poet can also 
concentrate his meaning upon those same words, the light 
of it will be diffused the farther, the rhymes being then 
like beacon-fires answering one another across the whole 
verse." 2 Alliteration must also be manifested when it 

1 Macmillan's Magazine, May 1906, pp. 541-5. 
- Und., p. 547- 


is pivsent by emphasis in the reading. " When the poet 
leads off the weightier syllables of his verse all with the 
same letter, it causes each to ring as with a hammer- 
stroke; and while we like the repeating letter, we like 
still more its effect on the syllables, of marking their equal 
importance and increasing the volume of their sound. It 
is their statelier rhythm that most truly affects us." 1 

In short, poetry can only be effectively read aloud by one 
who feels not the meaning only but the form, who under- 
stands the structure of that form and whose soul vibratos 
to its music and through it feels the thought to be nobler, 
more dignified or more graceful. In poetry, indeed, 
thought and form of expression are indissolubly united, 
and neither can be fully appreciated apart from the 
other. That is why we never feel to the full the spirit 
of poetry unless we either read it aloud ourselves or 
hear another read it. 

It is evident that each pupil must read a considerable 
passage at once if the art of effective oral 
Practice Ol reading is to be acquired. When each 
pupil reads only a sentence or two, except 
in dramatic writings where each takes one character, 
tin -iv is little opportunity for In m to express the emotional 
value of the passage, which is, indeed, lost by l>eing 
torn into fragments. It is moiv valuable for a pupil to 
read a considerable passage once or twice a week than to 
read two or three sentences daily. The advisability of 
frequent oral reading in small groups remains, though in a 
less pressing form than in the lower classes. 

Tin- ri.mi i riist"in of L, r ivin^ >a<'h pupil ill a class 

a book containing \\ is U-in- ival. an-1 iv|uirin;_: him 
to follow it. is necemsan whilst the art of iv.nlin- 

M.i\ MMM;. j.. :>\\t. 


acquired. But as proficiency is attained this should 
gradually be discontinued, and each reader should be 

expected to make himself intelligible to a class 
Reading to which merely listens to him. Not only does 
out Books. ^hi s cultivate clearness and distinctness in the 

readers, but it trains the other pupils in con- 
tinuity of attention, and directs that attention to the right 
point, that is, to the meaning. Another advantage is the 
much greater variety of reading that can be secured, as 
only one copy of the book read is required. If, further, 
pupils are encouraged to prepare at home pieces they 
like and bring them to school to read to their fellows, 
interest in reading is markedly cultivated. Of course, 
the teacher's approval of every such piece should be 
obtained beforehand. 

In this way, the reading lessons are made really effective 

and valuable. It can be pertinently urged 
Matter suited against the reading lesson as commonly con- 
Aloud, ducted that it positively hinders that 

continuity of attention which it should be 
one of the chief aims of school work to develop. Such a 
charge cannot be brought against the method here outlined. 
But even so, reading aloud in the upper classes should be 
chiefly exercised on matter which appeals more strongly to 
the emotions and to the sense of rhythm , harmony, and 
beauty than to the intelligence or to the memory. Of 
course, for the reasons already given, poetry should always 
be read aloud. Silent reading, in which each pupil can go 
at his own rate, can return on himself, can compare 
passage with passage, can pause to reflect or to make sure 
he has grasped the meaning, can refer to dictionaries and 
other books to clear up difficulties, is the appropriate means 
of bringing his mind into relation with statements of fact 
and trains of reasoning. The general lines on which 


children may be trained to learn effectively from books 
have been already indicated. 1 

;. The ITS! methods of conducting reading lessons, how- 
ever, must fail in their true object of leading 
Reading Books, the young to enjoy good literature unless the 
srhool reading books are wisely selected. 
Till quite recent years this was a matter of supreme diffi- 
culty , bill now the teacher has a choice of quite a large 
number of really good reading books, though the number 
<>f bud ones is probably yet greater. The qualities to be 
demanded in a school reading book are that it should be 
capable of exciting the pupils' interest, that it should en- 
l-nx" 1 and ennoble their ideas, that it should be well written, 
that its vocabulary should be in relation to that used by 
it- iv.idors. though more extensive, and that its style 
should l>e simple but not artificially childish. It should 
be u.-ll and dearly printed on good paper, and if there are 
any illustrations they should be artistic and well executed. 

It cannot be doubted that school reading books now-a- 
days are often much too copiously illustrated. An illustra- 
tion should supplement, not supplant, the imagination and 
of the children. For instance, pictures showing how 
K..m;tns and Tuscans were armed, and perhaps even 
tin- kind of bridge which Horatius and his companions 
defended, \\oidd help pupils to picture the incidents in 
Macaulay's lay Hnrnfln^. I>ut pictures of the various 
pi-odes describe 1 in that lay are <juito undesirable, for 
they hinder the ;i -tempt- Q| the children to pietuv. 

scenes vividly for thetaaehrea ; indei 1. they often prevent 

such attempts from being made. Pictorial illustrations 
which promote mental a.-tivity are good; HlO0e \\hich 
6 it needles- are ionally bad. whatever arti-tie 
they iiu \ di~; 


Reading books should contain passages of good Verge" 
dealing with topics which interest children of the age for 
which the books are intended, and expressing towards 
those topics attitudes of mind into which the children can 
enter, and which it is good for them to experience; 
Poetry, however simple in expression, which appeals to 
complex emotions and to subjective introspection is quite 
out of place in a child's reading book. A healthy external 
outlook on life and nature is the spirit we should try to 

If the term ' reading book ' be confined to those books 
which are used mainly for oral reading, then we see lint 
the contents should be of value as literature rather than 
as information. The attempt to combine the two, like 
most endeavours to kill two birds with one stone, usually 
hinders the attainment of the result which should be 
sought from each. The chief exception is the history 
reader, which, if well chosen, is at once literature and the 
medium of conveying definite information. 

The book read primarily for the instruction it conveys 
should, as a rule, be read silently for the information it 
contains ; oral reading should stir feeling and emotion, 
stimulate taste, and inspire ideals ; any addition to know- 
ledge it makes is incidental and unessential. Thus, in the 
books for the younger children, fairy tales and other forms 
of folk lore have their place ; for those of older growth 
stories, both from history and from fiction, should form 
the staple; whilst for the oldest classes of all the finer 
types of literature, such as essays from Bacon, Steele, 
and Addison, and descriptive passages from Euskin, 
should find a place. Indeed, in the reading books for the 
highest classes examples should be found culled from all 
the great literatures of the world, so that the pupils may 
to some extent appreciate the extent and variety of the 

fcEADINC*. 137 

world's spiritual treasures. As Professor Dowden says, 
" To know that there is a literature of the world, and to 
have felt, even for a moment, something of its seriousness, 
its beauty, its generous passion, its pathos, its humour, is 
to lay a good foundation." 1 

The school reading book will, then, be a book of well 
oh -sen extracts in prose and verse, each of real literary 
merit, and each likely to awaken an echo in the hearts of 
si'ine at least of the children for whose use it is intended. 
But by the side of such a book is the need for a more 
continuous reader, in order to train in the pupils the 
power and habit of continuity of interest. This reader 
may be an edition of some standard novel or some long 
poem, either complete or abridged. 

To reading a complete novel orally in class there are 
the objections that the progress is so slow that interest 
flags, and that many of the pupils read the latter parts 
of the book to themselves before those parts are reached 
in the class reading, and that this destroys the interest 
for them. The latter objection has little force, for most 
children read their favourite books over and over again. 
But the former is really serious. This objection may be 
met either by having much of the novel read silently and 
quickly and only the more dramatic scenes or beautiful 
passages read orally in class, or by using a set of extracts 
fn -in it. which if well selected are likely to send many of the 
pupils to the school or town library to borrow the book. 
Another plan is to have a reading book of long extracts 
from various books, each of which leaves off at a stimu- 
lating point, to let the children note down the author's 

name and the title of the 1 k from which each extract 

is taken, and to encourage them to |NHT>\\ these books 

1 Intr-.<lin-ti.ii t.. '/'! '/'<////,/. Reader, p. x\i. 


from any available library and read tliem. Each of these 
plans has been successful, though it is obvious that the 
success of the last two depends on the accessibility of a 
library. 1 

This leads us to insist that school and class libraries 
should !>< rru'Mi'ded as essential parts of a 
School and well fitted school. We do not merely mean 
Libraries collections of books which can be lent to the 

pupils to read at home, though they, too, are 
lu'cdl'ii], but books that chiMivn <-;in use in school, some- 
times reading under the teacher's general direction, at 
others allowed to browse at will on those pastures which 
most attract them. Time for this could be found if only 
teachers and others who direct the educational occupations 
of children were less enamoured of " that asinine feast of 
sow thistles and brambles which is commonly set before 
th'iu, as all the food and entertainment of their tenderest 
and most docible age." 2 

1 Attention may be drawn to the excellent and cheap series of 
short hut complete classics pul.lished by Messrs. Blackic and Son 
under the general till.- A';////y/ .SV//W*. These form admiral. le 
reading luioks fur the upper ela 

2 Milton, Truftntt <i 


TIM-: TI:A( m\<. OF I:.\<-LISH: LITKI: A 1 1 IM:. 

1. BY means of well selected reading books, the use of 

a well stocked library, and the encotira-e- 

Learning by mt'iit of pupils to bring other books to sclx < -1 

'ecitation * rea( ^ ^ or ^ e ^ )ene ^ ^ their class-mates, a 

considerable amount of literary ground cm 

\vjvd. and a hope may reasonably be entertained that 

ea-h j>ii|il will have found something to appeal to him and 

i" develop in him a liking for tilings and thoughts outside 

" tin- trivial round, the i-oinnion task " of his everyday life. 

lint in tin- cultivation of literary taste it is as needful to 

"I'l intrusive to extensive study as it is in the case of a 

t raining in nn. 

With tin- youn^-r classes this intensive study will be 
confined to the learning by heart and recita- 
tion of passages of poetry or prose, and 
throughout th' school course this should l>c 
_rular cx<T-isc. Ku<-h jass;tL:<' shouhl In- -oiujil't- in 
. and should a|ijwal in its sentiment and gnu-nil tone 
to ili,- ,-hildivn's h.-arts. If t hat is secured it is little .!> 
back .tains expressions and allu-i-.h- i \\hi.-h I!M> 


children have only an imperfect intellectual grasp. After 
all, comprehension and appreciation are relative terms. No 
two minds see exactly the same beauties in any work of 
art or piece of nature, and no two minds have exactly the 
same grasp of the thought expressed by another. A child 
can only appreciate to the fullest extent of his powers. He 
may feel his heart stirred within him by ideas and thoughts 
of which his comprehension is less than is that of his 
lea cher. Indeed, it may be held that much of the litera- 
ture taught in school should be somewhat in advance of the 
present capacity of the children, so that it may not soon be 
' put away ' with other ' childish things.' A really fine 
piece of poetry, no matter how simple its expression, en- 
shrines in a beautiful setting a gem of noble thought 
which will flash in ever new colours and fresh tints as 
time mellows the light of our experience. 

The qualities which poetry worthy to be learnt by heart 
should possess were admirably summed up by Matthew 
Arnold in one of his School Reports : " That the poetry 
chosen should have real beauties of expression and feeling, 
that those beauties should be such as the children's hearts 
and minds can lay hold of, and that a distinct point or 
centre of beauty and interest should occur within the 
limits of the passage learnt all these are conditions to be 
insisted upon." 

Of course, passages learnt by heart will generally be 
poetry, but the committing to memory of short and strik- 
ing passages of prose should not be debarred, and will be 
more frequent as^the pupils advance in age. 

When the teacher has decided that a passage is worthy 
of being committed to memory his efforts 
must be directed towards arousing in his 
pupils' minds the desire to learn it by heart. 
Nothing is less calculated to do this than the common 


of calling upon a whole class to repeat the passage 
simultaneously, lim* l>y Hue, after the teacher. Indeed, 
such a dreary, monotonous, mechanical, tread-mill method 
of proceeding may be relied on to smother most effectually 
any real love for poetry ami any desire to commit it to 

In no case is it more absolutely essential to evoke 
desire than in this, for the teacher's object should not 
be to secure that every child in a class has memorised a 
certain mmil>er of lines, but that every one of his pupils, 
t< the fullest extent of his capacity, has had his heart 
touched by noble thought and sweet sound, and has found 
delight in making his own that which has so wrought upon 
him. So is he forming a habit of committing to his 
memory passages which impress him by their beauty or 
their truth. If this is not secured, if learning poetry by 
heart is looked upon as a task to be discontinued as soon 
as school life is over and not as a natural reaction of the 
mind to pieces of literature which specially attract it, 
then no matter how perfect the class recitation may be 
from the jM>int of vi-w of a mechanical examination, the 
learning of that which is recited has been educationally 

Fnrt her. children are drawn towards poetry in different 
ways and to different extents. A passage which evokes 
enthusiasm in one will leave another cold. They differ, 
a-j-ain, in the rase with which passages become fixed in their 
memories, so that what is easy for one is difficult for 

All these considerations point to the conclusion that the 
j.uj.iN should be encouraged to learn by heart passages 
th.-y delight in. but that they should not be compelled to 
do BO. There is no educational reason, indeed th 
reason & i B an<l that love of i hanicul imilormitv 


which works such havoc in educational work, why all the 
members of a class should be expected to commit to memory 
exactly the same passages. Whenever that is insisted upon, 
with some children at any rate the learning becomes a 
matter of the teacher's compulsion, and the true object 
of the exercise is made nearly impossible of attainment. 
When the teacher really loves poetry, and the class read- 
ing book contains suitable pieces which the teacher reads 
to his class and talks over with them, leading them to pene- 
trate the meaning and feel the spirit of the whole, it is easv 
to excite in many breasts the desire to finish the learning, 
\\hich, indeed, is nearly done by the time the discussion of 
the passage is finished. This completion of the memorising 
will be most conveniently accomplished out of school. 

The teacher can aid the actual learning by showing how 
the consecutive stanzas or other divisions may be most 
readily linked together by associating them serially both 
by sequence of idea and by flow of words. All that is 
ncrled further is for the teacher to show his appre- 
ciation of his pupils' efforts. 

So in a recitatrm lesson the dreary and deadening mono- 
tony of the same passage being said over and over again, 
simultaneously and individually, and by all in the same 
artificial mechanical way, which is the inevitable outcome 
of simultaneous repetition in imitation of the teacher's 
line to line copy, will be replaced by the individual saying 
of many pieces, each of which, having been learnt with 
hearty willingness and because it is liked and felt, is recited 
with true and natural expression. For, as Buskin says, 
" Fine elocution means first an exquisitely close attention 
to, and intelligence of, the meaning of words, and perfect 
sympathy with what feeling they describe; but indicated 
always with reserve." l 

1 /';;\s C/arii/cra, vol. iv., p. 4G9. 


2. In the upper classes, though it is to be hoped and 
expected that the actual amomit learned by 
Intensive heart will cont inually increase as the pupils' 

tented Fonn knowledge and appreciation of literature 
of Literature, grow, vet it should no longer be the only 
addition to the use of the reading book. In 
these classes a more detailed study should be undertaken 
of both the content and the form of literature. This 
should grow gradually out of the discussions of passages 
of which we have just spoken. From general under- 
standing of thought and a more or less vague feeling !' 
appreciation, the children should be led to a more explicit 
comprehension of why such and such a passage is effective, 
and of the full extent and force of its meaning. 

The utmost tact is necessary to prevent such detailed 
examination of matter and form from destroying the 
effect of the passage on the mind. As the beauty of a 
ll\ver disappears when it is dissected, so that the teacher 
of natural history must always be on his guard lest in 
giving information he destroys "admiration, hope, and 
love." so it is with the flowers of literature. Indeed, 
so great is the danger that a teacher who does not 
feel intensely the sacredness of the beauty of literature 
will be wise not to attempt to give such les 
as those we are about to consider. lletter is it to 
leave the young mind to the vague and unconscious 
influence of what it reads than to form the habit of 
approaching every literary masterpiece in a coldly critical 
Any analysis of literary form, any working out 
of allusions, similes, and metaphors, any marking of the 
appropriateness of words and rhythm to idea, or bringing 
f rhyme and alliteration, \\liich is not kept 
ly ancillary to tin- efTect of th,- passage as a whole 
does i ' harm than good. But when kepi subordinate 


and carried out with care and reverence it is of considerable 

By good reading aloud the teacher should have given his 
pupils, even in the youngest classes, a feeling for the beauty 
of rhythm, rhyme, and alliteration, though it will be largely 
unconscious. In the older classes this should be made 
explicit. Probably this is most effectively done by so 
changing words as to destroy the element of form, and 
then comparing the effect of the mutilated passage with 
the original when both are read aloud. For example, 
nothing appears to the child when he first thinks about 
it as more artificial than rhyme, or less essential to the ex- 
pression of meaning. Take, then, as Mr. Bourne suggests, 
such a passage as Campbell's 

" On Linden, when the sun was low, 
All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, 
And dark as winter was the flow 

Of Iser, rolling rapidly." 

" And, to whatever it be due, it is impossible to deny a 
great dignity in the verses. They have a charm to pene- 
trate deaf ears. And what part in this do the rhymes 
play ? It is worth while to try. Preserving the metre of 
the verses unimpaired, we may get rid of the rhymes by a 
slight alteration. We will let the first line run ' On Lin- 
den, as the sun went down ' ; and in the third we will say 
flood or stream instead of flow ; and well, is the change 
important ? We have only robbed the thing of its pene- 
trating force, converted its stately march into a jog-trot 
amble not worthy of attention and not likely to attract any. 
In short, we have done no more than spoil the poem. Its 
golden circlet of rhyme seems to have been a royal crown, 
torn away by our democratic common- sense." 1 

1 Article on Rhythm and Rhyme, Macmillans Magazine, May 
1906, p. 546. 

M'lKRATURE. 145 

Of OOUT86, such an exercise will not need repetition. 
When once the fact that much of tin 1 force, of verso de- 
pends upon such an element of form as rhyme has been 
brought home t the mind, tlu'iv is no need to prove it 
airain. though it may l>e referred to frequently. But in 
some such way it is desirable to ln'ij> the children to feel 
that every word an 1 every syllable in a perfect poem is 
--ary to its perfection, and exercises which do this and 
u'o n<> further are always admissible, and sometimes abso- 
lutely nt-.-cssary if any worthy appreciation of beautiful 
form is to IH> trained. But the mind should not be allowed 
t-> dwell on the mutilated passage; it should turn from it 
to the noble original with relief and renewed enjoyment. 
It' this is not se.-ured such an exercise may actually have 
the vicious result of inciting the pupils to deform and 
debase other verse merely as an exercise in ingenuity. 

The true object of the detailed consideration of a piece 
of literature is to get from it as much as possible of what 
the author meant to put into it. " Passive reading," 
Lord Avebury, "is of very little use. We must try to 
realise what w r e read." 1 The teacher's function is to help 
e.n-h individual pupil to such realisation. Of the kind of 
help a good teacher may give Rusk in gives us an example 
in sections 20-26 of his Sesame and L/V/Vs, a passage which 
v teacher of literature will do well to study, though t he 
portion of Lycidas dealt with is more suited to older pupils 
than it is to those in primary schools. 

Let us take, as a simpler example, the passage from 
Tennyson's Itlyll* </ ///< K'unj in which 
Example from the poet describes the throwing away of lli i 
' Idyils of the 8Wor( l Exculibur by Sir IJolivere. l.eginniiig 
King.' all d.iy l'.n k ' tin- ii"i<r .,t' K.ittl.- r..ll'<l." 

re, <!,. .x. 



and continuing for a hundred and sixty lines to 

" But when I looked again, behold an arm, 
Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful, 
That caught him by the hilt, and brandished him 
Three times, and drew him under in the mere." 

This supplies material for several lessons. The general 
order of treatment would involve three readings of the 

In the first the general drift and meaning of the 
passage are considered, and the aim is to raise enthusiasm 
and interest in it as a beautifully told story, and to set up 
an ideal of duty triumphing over temptation. 

In the second reading consideration is given to the form, 
though not to the form alone, but always in relation to the 
matter. The aim here is to make clear every expression 
and to lead to an appreciation of such things as the ex- 
quisite choice of words, the harmony of sound and rhythm 
with idea, and the beauty and appropriateness of simile, 
metaphor, and descriptive epithet. 

The third reading gathers up the results of the two 
former, and should result in a fuller and deeper apprecia- 
tion, intellectual, emotional, and aesthetic, of the whole 
passage which would find its natural expression in an 
intelligent and sympathetic oral reading by the pupils. 

The first reading must be set in a background of the 
main outlines of the Arthurian legend. 

General p ew better subiects for detailed study by 

Apprehension ., . , , , . , 

of Whole. pupils of about thirteen years or age could 

be chosen than a selection from the Idylls, 
making a consecutive and organic whole, and if this has 
been taken the passage now under consideration falls into 
its natural place, and the only introduction required is for 
the teacher to remind the children 



(a) of tlio oath of obedience and fealty to the king 
taken by tin- knights of the Round Table; how 

"Arthur sat 

Crowned on the dais, and his warriors cried, 
' Be thou the king, and we will work thy will 
Who love thee.' Then the king in low deep tones, 
And simple words of great authority, 
Bound them by so strait vows to his own self, 
That \\ 1 HMI they rose, knighted from kneeling, some 
\Yere pale as at the passing of a ghost, 
Some flushed, and others dazed, as one who wakes 
Half -blinded at the coming of a light." l 

What, then, was the nature of this awe-inspiring oath? 
Arthur tells us 

" I made them lay their hands in mine and swear 
To reverence the King, as if he were 
Their conscience, and their conscience as their King, 
To break th<' heathen and uphold the Christ, 
To ride abroad, redressing human wrongs, 
To speak no slander, no, nor listen to it, 

lives iii purest chastity, 
T> 1-ive <>iic maiden only, cleave to her, 
And worship her by years of noble deeds, 
Until thi-y wm her." 2 

The toucher should emphasise markedly the second and 
third lines, as they bear directly on the conduct of Sir 
vere soon to be d->,-ril>ed. 

(6) of 

Bedivere, the first of all his kni-hts, 
lited by Arthur at his <-IM\\ nil 

(c) of tli.- liM-.rv and pr..|M-rt ies !' Kx.-alilmr, especially 
>t' tin- t \\M inscriptions mi the Made 

" Oil (Hit- >ide. 

ii in tin- old. t |on_'iie ..I .ill this world, 
'Take me,' but turn tin- blade and yu shall 866, 

1 The Coming of A vere. Tlu Coming of A rfh in: 


And written in the speech ye speak youisi It 
'Cast inr away ! ' ' M 

(rf) of the battle with Modred, the disastrous issue of 
which leads immediately to the passage now to be 

" Then Mod red smote his lie^e. 
Hard nil that lu-lin which many a heathen sword 
Mai hratrn thin; while Arthur atone blow, 
Striking the last stroke with Kxealibur, 
Slew him, and all but slain himself, he fell." 2 

If there has been no previous study of the Idylls the 
teacher must give an oral lesson setting forth the main 
outlines <>t' tin- legend, taking care to bring out strongly 
the four points with which we have just dealt. 

After tliis introduction the first reading commences. 
The passage naturally divides into three sections, and the 
uvii'Tal nifthod of dealing with each should be for the 
teacher to induce by conversation with the pupils such a 
setting <>f ideas as will make his reading of the section 
essful in Jts appeal to their minds and hearts. In 
such a conversation phrases and brief passages of the 
poem itself which might prevent the apprehension of 
the meaning of the whole may, at times, be introduced in 
such a way as to make their general signification clear. 
The result of the conversation should be that the puj>ils 
are in a state of expectancy and anticipation which de- 
mands the reading of the passage for its satisfaction. 
Each section is, therefore, completed by an uninterrupted 
reading by the teacher, the pupils having no copies of the 
poem, but concentrating their efforts in imagining the 
scenes and feeling the emotions expressed by the words 
they hear. 

1 The Comiiuj of Arthur. 2 The Passing of Arthur. 


The first section begins l>y picturing tlie scene, and the 
children may l)e allowed if they will to close their eyes so 
as t ijive their visual imagination free play, uninterrupted 
by tli i sights around them. Let them see vividly the lonely 
spot, the " broken chum-el with u broken cross "to which 
Sir I >. -dive re. the last, as he had been the first, of Arthur's 
knights. lears the dying king. Let them then try to 
imagine the thought sum! emotions that would pass through 
Arthur's mind as he reflected on his life's work and its 
>ud outcome, and to think what last thing he would feel 
there remained for him to do. Here the teacher may quote 
the lialf-do/en lines in which the king recalls how he first 
obtained possession of the sword. But how can Arthur 
cust the sword into the lake now he is wounded? So the 
mission of Sir Bedivere is seen to be natural and inevitable. 

Let the children now dwell a little on the beauty and 
richness of Excalibur, so that they may understand the 
t-m jt it ions which might assail the knight. Let them 
try to put themselves in his place to see him just 
uln'iit to throw the sword, when the flash of moonlight 
glinting on the jewelled hilt brings sudden temptation 
up.. n him. Unless they feel d-.-eply the force of the 
temptation the lesson will here lose its -Tip on them. 

If they do feel it they will suggest the result, which the 

er will do well to give in Tennyson's words. The 

er then, with the aid of the class, sums up the heads 
e story so far, and closes the section by an un- 
interrupted reading of the puss.. 

The second section then follows with the ijuery : What 

then would IK- the feelings of Piedivere: anl of Arthur? 

!y the pupils must put themselves in the place of 

fe.-l shame \\ ith the IWmer. ;m d :rr jef ;m ,i disappoint - 

ment witli the hit. r. This last feeling is led up to b\ a 

fuller examination of the reason why Kedi\eiv dud l>eeO 


so wrong in yielding to the temptation, and how the king 
would, in consequence, regard his conduct. The teacher 
should then read as impressively as he can the second 

"Yet now, I charge thee, quickly go again, 
As thou art lief and dear, and do the thing 
I bade thee, watch, and lightly bring me word." 

The children must go in heart and thought with Sir 
Bedivere as he slowly seeks the lake the second time. If 
they have entered sympathetically into his state of mind 
they will, with a little assistance and suggestion from the 
teacher, work out the train of thought by which he tries to 
deceive his conscience. But that he has not really done 
so, though he has hardened his heart, will be brought 
out by quoting 

"And so strode back slow to the wounded king." 

Here the second section ends, and all that is required is 
an impressive reading by the teacher. 

In the third section the children must again be asked to 
put themselves in the place of the king, who knows his 
end is near while his last task yet remains unaccom- 
plished. They must feel the sore indignation which 
provokes his bitter reproaches. Then they must in turn 
feel the effect of the stinging words on the loving but 
erring knight, so that they are stung with him, with him 
plunge blindly down to the lake, seize the sword, and, with 
eyes closed to temptation, fling it whirling into the mere. 
Here they will picture the great sword's flight through the 
moonbeams, and then foretell the end. The teacher now 
reads the account of what they foresaw would happen. 
Teacher and class together briefly discuss Sir Bedivere' s 
state of mind, and the reasons for his joy and satis- 
faction. Together they go with him as he "lightly " seeks 


his master, contrasting this third return with the two 
previous ones. Together they anticipate the character of 
the conversation between the dying king and the faithful 
knight. The teacher's reading completes the section. 

No attempt should be made at any explicit statement 
>f the moral lesson to be learnt. This lesson is obvious, 
and will be more effective if it is not talked about 
or formulated. There are few greater mistakes than to 
attempt to state a direct moral outcome of a piece of 
literature. As Addisou says, " As exercise becomes tedious 
ami painful, when we make use of it only as the means of 
health, so reading is apt to grow uneasy and burdensome, 
when we apply ourselves to it only for our improvement in 
virtue. For this reason, the virtue which we gather from 
a fable, or an allegory, is like the health we get by 
hunting; as we are engaged in an agreeable pursuit that 
draws us on with pleasure, and makes us insensible of 
the fatigues that accompany it." 1 When the literature 
has been truly treated, its lesson for life, whatever it may 
be, whether ' moral ' in the narrower sense or not, will 
have been learnt by each pupil to the full extent to which 
he is capable of learning it, and in the way most likely to 
make the learning real. It is in the intensity with which 
the pupils enter into anl realise the moral situation ami 
respond to it emotionally and volitionally as well as 
intellectually that the training effect of the teaching of 
literature centres. 

In the second reading of the poem each pupil will 
^ iave a ^ ^ ^ e words and a manuscript 

D tail d Stud 

' iKx.k, in which he can enter such short notes 

as he needs. As has been said, much delicate tact is 
necessary to prevent the detailed examination of form in 

i" matter lY"in niaiTiiiu r . iu-t'-ad "I 

1 y/i. y.. IT. 


the effect of the previous lessons. The teacher must 
feel his way carefully with his finger 011 the emotional 
pulse of his class. After all, the result depends on him. 
If his heart is really at t mini to the poem, if his eye is 
continually on it as an exquisite whole so that all his 
efforts are directed to bringing out its various beauties as 
elements in that whole, if his literary enthusiasm never 
I lags, there is no danger. It is evident, then, that no rule 
can le laid down as to the extent to which the consideration 
of may be profitably carried; it depends on the 
teacher much more than on the class, though, certainly, all 
rhildivn are not equally responsive to beauty of liter, irv 
form. We shall, therefore, only indicate and exemplify 
the kinds of points to which attention may profitably be 

First, there is fuller elucidation of the meaning of 
words ;ind phrases, such as 

" The sequel of to-day unsolders all 
The goodliest fellowship of famous knights 
Whereof this world hi .Ms record." 

"Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful." 

V Myriads of topaz-lights, and jacinth-work 
Of subtlest jewelry." 

"as Ucsrcmcd 

Thy fealty." 

"As thou art lief and dear." 
" How curiously and strangely chas-d." 

"a dying king 

Laid widowed of the power in his eye 
That bowed the will." 

This is, of course, merely auxiliary. The teacher's full 
aim is to malco the pupils realise that in poetry the verbal 
expression fits the meaning and gives it an enhanced beauty 
and force. 


Lead the children to appre.Mate the skill with which the 
poet calls u]> vivil pictures m the mhid, as in the passage 

i in the moon athwart the place of tombs, 
When- lay tin- mighty bones of ancient men, 
Old knights, and over thorn the sea-wind sang 
Sin-ill, chill, with Hakes of foam." 
or in 

"the shining levels of the lake." 
or auain 

" in the many-knotted waterflags, 
That \\-histle stiti'and dry about the marge." 

Let them realise how we seem to hear 

"the ripple washing in the reeds, 
And the wild water lapping on the 

It is quite useless to tell them these things : they must be 
led. by effective reading, by giving them time to dwell 
mi the words, by contagion of the teacher's enthusiasm, to 
realise them for themselves. 

Bring home to the children the force of such descriptive 
is and phrases as "clothed in white samite, /////.<//>, 
dividing the swift mind," "clouded with his 
own conceit," " the <//'//// pleasure of the eyes," "the sj>l> //- 
//// of the moon." Make sure that the similes and meta- 
phors are appreciated in 

" The great brand 

M.i<lc lightnings in the splendour of the moon. 
And fla-hing round and round, and whirled in an an-h, 

1 in- northern morn, 
when- the m..\ i winter shock 

ot the llol t he! ' 

S< ila-hi-d .in.l t'l-M the I, i.uid K\.-,i]il>ur." 

Most important !' all, in cultivating tin- s -use of literary 

tonii. iv i,, I, riii- ILIUM- t. tin- lii\v the cliaiM.-ter- 

ndl in a passage are in ;i.-.-..rd \\itli it- main 

id.- i Tim>. the ,.|HMI . \\ith their I.-MU' and 


open vowels, and soft and smooth consonants, give the 
feeling of mournfulness. Then the change to the harsher 
initial consonants at 

" The bold Sir Bedivere uplifted him," 

gives the feeling of effort and strain. Arthur's soliloquy 
is appropriately set to words with continually recurrent, 
long, but close vowels with soft consonants, again changing 
to more stirring consonant sounds at 

"Thou, therefore, take my brand Excalibur, 
Which was my pri<lr," 

and subsiding again to the preceding note at 

"for thou rememberest how." 
The energy again breaks out at 

" But now delay not : take Excalibur, 
And fling him far into the middle mere." 

The reply of Sir Bedivere is couched in short and almost 
jerky syllables, and hearing the words 

" He, stepping down 
By zig-zag paths, and juts of pointed rock," 

compels the imagination to represent the rough clambering 
down the rugged path, whilst the very next line, 

" Came on the shining levels of the lake," 

gives in the sounds of the last five words the spirit of quiet 
waters in the still moonlight. 

Enough has probably been said to make clear the spirit 
in which this harmony between sound and sense may be 
brought home to the children. But we cannot refrain from 
pointing out how much of the picture-forming power of 

"the ripple washing in the reeds, 
And the wild water lapping on the crag," 


is due to the very sound of the words, or how the rush and 
energy of swift movement start out of 

11 and ran, 

And, leaping down the ridges lightly, plunged; the lmlnish-beds, and clutched the sword, 
And strongly wheeled and threw it," 

with its h:ird consonants and short vowels, to which the full 
should l>e given in oral reading by teacher or pupils 
as may be thought advisable. The more vividly the 
children appreciate the importance of almost every letter 
in rendering meaning effectively, the more will they strive 
to attain distinctness and force of utterance. And the 
teacher who realises this will see how important it is to 
cultivate this art iii his pupils as an aid to their culture. 

When by tasteful reading it has been brought home 
to the pupils that the force of ideas is expressed by the 
very sound of well chosen words, they will delight in 
finding new examples for themselves. But the teacher 
must be on his guard lest the interest in the words as 
mere words becomes dominant instead of that in the union 
i.t \v<irds and thought. 

Of course, these various aspects of literary form will be 
considered together as they occur in the poem, not one at 
a time as, for simplicity of exposition, they have been 
treated here. 

r this intensive study of form a little time may be 
spent on a consideration of the character of Sir Bedivere 
as shown in the passage, on which the pupils might well 
write a short essay, illustrating their judgments bylines from 
1 1 1 . j ..... i n , w h ich they should have by their side for reference. 

The class is now ready for tin- third reading, which will 
!* an <-ral n-ndrrin^ of tin- whole piece, 

Third Reading 11 

various pupils taking the different portion*, 

l.ut can- U-in-j cx.-n-m.'d thai each such portion .jive-; <nc 


n.n:p!ete step in the story. The teacher who has suc- 
ceeded in his aim will find that much of the poem is 
already known by many of the pupils, and that they will 
be keenly interested in completing the learning of it, which 
he will encourage them to do. 

4. Of course, in much literature the appeal is much 

more predominantly to the intellect than it 
Passages of a is in the poem we have just studied. In 
Intellectua? tiy SUl '^ cases ' though the general mode of treat- 
Character, incut will lie the same, the emphasis will be 

differently placed. For in such writings it 
is not so much the inner feelings and motives which 
find expression as the current of thoughts. The teacher's 

primary aim must, therefore, be to ensure 

Examples tuat t h ose thoughts are re-thought by his 

from Bacon ., \ 

on 'Riches.' pupils, and this involves such a study or the 

form of expression as will make plain its 
excellencies. For example, to take the opening of Bacon's 
essay on Riches 

"I cannot call riches better than the baggage of virtue ; the 
Roman word is better, ' impediment* J ; for as the l'Uu r - 
to an army, so is riches to virtue ; it cannot be spared inn left 
behind, but it hindereth the march ; yea, and the care of it 
sometimes loseth or disturbeth the victory." 

Here the success of the pupils in mastering Bacon's 
meaning is altogether dependent on the fulness and vivid- 
ness with which they enter into his metaphor. What is 
the baggage of an army ? Why is the Latin word here 
more expressive ? What is the object of an army's 
march ? Why is baggage necessary to it ? Yet how may 
the baggage hinder it, or spoil a possible victory ? Why is 
lifelike the march of an army, and how may riches hinder 
the attainment of life's aim? Such questions should be 
considered in conversation between teacher and class, and 


thf teacher will do much to brinij out the points, and at 
tin* same time to widen the lit era ry outlook of his pupils, 
by quoting pertinent passages from other writors, as 

"There is that maketh himself rich, yet hath nothing. 
There is tliat maketh himself poor, yet liatli great riches." 1 

Tli- whole essay will then be read in the light of these 
thoughts. aiil a true idea reached of Bacon's conception of 
the right attitude of men towards riches : 

"Seek not proud riches, but such as thou mayest get justly, 
use soberly, distribute cheerfully, and leave contentedly; yet 
have no abject or friarly contempt of them." 

Tin- j >uj tils should be led to see the plan on which the 

instructed : the place of riches; the true attitude 

tw,ird> thrm : the modes of gaining riches: and note how 

ea<-h is illustrated. The study may well end in the read- 

inon's beautiful passage in the Proverbs 

'py is the man that findeth wisdom, 
And the man that getteth understanding : 
tin- merchandise of it is better than the merchandise of 


And the .rain thereof than tine gold. 
i- mop- precious than rubies : 
And all the things thou canst <i 
not to be compared'unto her. 

i- in her right hand ; 
And in her left riches and honour. 
1 1- : ,;, ,,! R . . of )ilc. [van: 
And all her paths arc p. 

A consideration of this passage will well conn.vt the 
essay on Riches with that <m Shntim. \\hich 

Example w jj] fm-nish alundant material tor the studv 

from Bacon _ . 

on 'Studies.' < a ooooie ye( rery effeotivc |.rse style. 

Let the pupils mark t lie extreme brevity with 
the ideas are ex| brevity in wlii.-h e;i.-h 


word contains a world of meaning. This terseness will be 
brought home to them if they are called upon to express 
the same ideas when they note the number of words they 
themselves employ. Let them see how much the force of 
the style is enhanced by the constant comparisons and 
antitheses, and the use of striking figurative language, 

" Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and 
some few to be chewed and digested." 

Example from As a last example, let us consider a 
'Crabbe^Aee P assa 8 e fr m B- I*- Stevenson's essay on 
and Youth. ' Crabbed Age and Youth : 

11 'Opinion in <n,o<l mm,' says Milton, 'is but knowledge in 
the making.' All opinions, properly so called, are stax 
the road to truth. It does not follow that a man will travel 
any further ; but if he has really considered the world and 
drawn a conclusion, he has travelled as far. This does not 
apply to formulae got by rote, which are stages on the road to 
nowhere but second childhood and the grave. To have a catch- 
word in your mouth is not the same thing as to hold an opinion ; 
still less is it the same thing as to have made one for yourself. 
There are too many of these catchwords in the world for people 
to rap out upon you like an oath and by way of an argument. 
They have a currency as intellectual counters; and mum 
respectable persons pay their way with nothing else. They 
seem to stand for vague bodies of theory in the background. 
The imputed virtue of folios full of knockdown arguments is 
supposed to reside in them, just as some of the majesty of 
the British Empire dwells in the constable's truncheon. They 
are used in pure superstition, as old clodhoppers spoil Latin l>y 
way of an exorcism. And yet they are vastly serviceable for 
checking unprofitable discussion and stopping the mouths of 
babes and sucklings. And when a young man comes to a 
certain stage of intellectual growth, the examination of these 
counters forms a gymnastic at once amusing and fortifying to 
the mind." 


The detailed examination of this piece cannot fail to be 
profitable both morally and intellectually. It brings home 
to the mind the nature and need of intellectual honesty, 
and its dependence on clearness of thought. The two 
similes should be worked out and illustrated, and the one 
reference unfamiliar to the children that to the Latin 
exorcisms explained. A comparison may profitably be 
made between the style of this passage and that of Bacon's 
Essays : the pupils will easily feel the greater freedom 
and familiarity of Stevenson's writing, and yet see that 
the foundation lines of construction are very similar. 

Selected essays from Addison and Steele furnish much 
profitable material for study. Passages such 

as these> used 3 udici uslv with the eider 

pupils, tend to develop in them a taste for 
literature which expresses thought and feeling, as well as 
for the literature of romance which describes action. The 
teacher will find it helpful to keep a common-place book 
in which he copies out, or notes down references to passages 
he meets in his own reading and which strike him as suited 
for his pupils. Many such passages, when they are not 
found in the school reading book, are short enough to be 
written by the children in a manuscript book. Every child 
should be provided with a large book for this purpose, 
and thus form the habit of transcribing passages which 
specially appeal to him. Nor must such copying of 
passages 1>e regarded as a waste of school time ; it is a 
direct training in composition, and it shows the pupils one 
real use that the art of writing may !< to Hinn. 

5. Such forms of literature as those we have considered 
will form the bulk of the school work in that 
s 11 ^***- But in the hi-host class it is w 11 
to undertake a detailed study of one of the 
simpler plays of Shakespeare, such as Jtdius Cat* 


The SUM ic ;_;< ne nil liues of method will be followed as 
have been worked out for the passage from the Idylls of 
the King, though the second reading will here need division 
into two one for the detailed examination of the matter, 
the other for that of the form. The pupils will have copies < > t 
the play for the first as well as for the subsequent readings, 
and the reading of the text will generally be by them. 

The teacher should keep before their minds that tin- 
work they are studying is a play intended to be acted in a 
theatre, and that, in consequence, they must gather the 
story from the words put into the mouths of the characters. 
aided to some small extent by the indications of their 
actions furnished by the stage directions. This may, 
perhaps, be made more vivid if, in addition to any 
historical setting that may be necessary for unlerstaii<ling 
the matter of the play, some account of an Elizabethan 
playhouse is given as a setting for the general form, special 
reference being made to the arrangement of the platform- 
sta--e protruding into the body of the house. 

An edition with an accurate, though, if needful, ex- 
purgated text, and entirely without notes, is the best. 
The teacher will, of course, use annotated editions in 
preparing his lessons, but it is best for each pupil to make 
hi> own notes in a manuscript book. 

After the first reading the pupils should be required to 
write a brief analysis of the story, and to expand that into 
a well balanced narrative. 

In the second reading more detailed attention will be 
given to the elements of the contents, that is, to the 
characters of the persons of the drama. Under the name 
of each of the chief of these the pupils should enter in 
manuscript books passages which illustrate their qualities. 
At the end of the reading the pupils should be able to 
write an essay on each character. 


In the third reading the language of the text will receive 
more detailed study, and notes will be made in the manu- 
script books on the meanings of words and phrases, with 
occasional derivations and illustrations of similar uses by 
other writers of words now unfamiliar. Grammatical 
mi a lysis will be applied to unravel the meanings of involved 
constructions. But all this linguistic work must be done 
with great restraint, the teacher always remembering that 
his aim is literary and aesthetic. 

After this, some lessons may be given on the histori- 
cal basis or other origin of the play, and the pupils 
may read with profit extracts from such books as 
Dowden's Shakespeare Primer or Hazlitt's Characters 
of Shakespeare's Plays. They will also now wish to 
know something of the life of Shakespeare, though the 
teacher must be careful lest biographical details which 
have no bearing on literary work loom too large. The 
common practice of beginning lessons on literature with 
a life of the author is so preposterous that one can only 
regard it as suggesting the law that the life of a custom 
bears a direct ratio to its absurdity. 

If pupils studying a play of Shakespeare can see it well 
acted, much vividness and interest will be added to their 
conception. This is not always possible, and doubtless it 
tends t< limit the imagination of the pupils to the actors' 
ideas of the characters. Nevertheless, as those ideas are 
the outcome of much more study than the children have 
^iven. the limitation imposed is likely t<> le wider than 
that the children have reached, for it must bo rememl)ered 
that to limit a possibility is not necessarily to curtail an 
actuality. It may 1*> granted. however, that to see a play 
badly acted in worse than not to see it acted at all. 

The two detailed studies of the play \\ill of course be 
wed by a fourth c..n>eeutiv reading. Scenes will, no 

1 1 


doubt, have been learnt by heart, some by one set of pupils, 
others by others. These may be acted, or at least recited, 
by the pupils who know them, with a greater freedom than 
is possible in mere reading. 

6. We have merely attempted to indicate lines on which 
literature may be effectively taught. A corn- 
Literature as pletQ detailed exposition of the subiect would 
Other Subjects, require many volumes. But the teaching 

will be most effective when the teacher works 
out the application of his principles for himself. 

It need only be added that the cultivation of literary 
taste should not l>e confined to lessons definitely dealing 
with literature. Many other lessons can be brightened and 
vivified by a brief piece of poetry or a gem of prose descrip- 
tion. Of such passages the teacher of other subjects 
should make a collection. For example, a lesson on 
mountains to the elder pupils which is enriched by the 
teacher reading well chosen selections from Euskin's 
essay on Mountains in the Frondes Agrestes will have a 
culture value which the bare geographical treatment can 
never give it. A lesson on the Nile will gain by reading 
the sonnets to that river by Shelley, Keats, and Leigh 
Hunt. Life is given to a lesson on Venice by Shelley's 
lines : 

" Beneath is spread like a green sea 
The waveless plain of Lombardy, 
Bounded by the vaporous air, 
Islanded by cities fair ; 
Underneath day's azure eyes 
Ocean's nursling, Venice lies, 
A peopled labyrinth of walls, 
Amphitrite's destined halls, 
Which her hoary sire now paves 
With his blue and beaming waves. 
Lo ! the sun upsprings behind, 


Broad, red, radiant, half reclined 
On the level quivering line 
Of the waters crystalline ; 
And before that chasm of light, 
As within a furnace bright, 
Column, tower, and dome, and spire, 
Shine like obelisks of fire, 
Pointing with inconstant motion 
From tin- altar of dark ocean 
To the sapphire-tinted skies ; 
As the flames of sacrifice 
1'Yom the marble shrines did rise, 
As to pierce the dome of gold 
Where Apollo spoke of old. 

Sun-girt City, thou hast been 
Ocean's child, and then his jueen ; 
Now is come a darker day, 
And thou soon must be his prey, 
If the power that raised thee here 
Hollow so thy watery bier." 1 

1 From Lines written among the Euyaman Hills. 



1. So far our consideration has been given to the culture 

of 1hr pupils' minds by contact with some of 

Language as a tJic greatest creations of human genius : noble 

Means of 1-1,11 

Expression. thoughts expressed in noble language which 

have inspired many generations of men, and 
will continue to exert their benign sway so long as men 
shall live to think and to understand thought. But it is in 
language also that the individual finds the most potent 
instrument for expressing his own individuality and for 
influencing others, and the instrument, moreover, most 
universal in its scope, for whilst not all are swayed by 
music, or painting, or sculpture, or architecture, all are 
influenced by language. Moreover, some power of expres- 
sion is essential to appreciation of the expression of others. 
Power of expression, like every other kind of skill, re- 
quires cultivation, and this it is the function of the school 
to give. Expression in language may be either by word of 
mouth or by written language. These should be developed 
together, and each in close connection with the reception of 




-. Before, however, discussing the work of the school iii 

training expression through language, we 

must consider briefly the closely connected 

instruments of written expression writing and spelling. 

One of the most common mistakes of schools is to 

for-.-t that lii.-x- arts are merely instruments, and to 

treat them as ends in themselves. Thru each is cultivated 

fur itself and largely out of relation to that art of written 

e\pivioii of thought which alone makes either worth 

, ing ( >r learning. \Y hen their true relation to language 

is clearly grasped, this exaggeration of their importance 

will, no doubt, cease. 

In writing, as in reading, the senior school has only to 

build on the foundation which the infant 

Teaching school has laid. Writing is a manual art 

and, like all such arts, is acquired through 

practice guided by imitation with instructive criticism. 

:!d be looked for in increasing correctness and 

facility of performance, \\li\\ increasing automatism of 

process. As in all other manual arts, simplicity and 

>f model, gradation of difficulties, concentration 

in imitation, and frequent short periods of 

practice are the essential conditions of rapid acquirement. 

Throughout, the nature of the end aimed at should be kept 

in mind the power of legible, rapid, and mechanically 

:iiatic writing: and this should be gradually, but 

contM . pproximated. 

The model should, especially with beginners, be set on 
the blackboard, for the children can then 
imitate botli the ivsuli and the process 
by which it is readied, and the teacher can 
. attention to the steps of the latt-r in S..HH- inteiv^ing 
; is he goes along. The children should write on p 
lead pencils, which are easier to manage than pen 


and ink, and preferable in every way to slates and slate 
pencils. Care should be taken that the 

Pencil ^ P 611011 is held wel1 ' but {i must be < l i- 
bered that this new position of the hand is 

felt to be very cramping by little children, so it should al 
first be required for only a very brief time. After two or 
three minutes the hand should be rested whilst the teacher 
again writes on the blackboard, and the whole exercise 
should not last more than a quarter of an hour in the 
lowest classes. With practice the hand becomes more and 
more accustomed to the new position, which is, moreover, 
adopted more perfectly, and so the length of the lessons 
may be somewhat increased. 

Much care should be taken from the first, and through- 
out the lessons, that the children sit in 
Body! 01 a heathy position square on their seats, 

with backs upright and straight, feet firmly 
planted on the floor, forearms resting on the desk. No 
twisting to right or left, or bending over the desk should 
be permitted. That the writing should harmonise with 
this, the only healthy condition, it should be upright or 
very nearly so. Such writing has, moreover, the advantage 
of greatest legibility. 

The writing should at first be guided in size and uni- 
formity by two parallel horizontal lines, but 
Guiding Lines. . *\ J .,* 

no further guiding lines should be supplied. 

To give too much mechanical help at first may conduce to 
better letters being produced at the moment, but hinders 
and delays the acquirement of the art of free writing. The 
size should be medium : neither too large, for the hands 
which are to produce it are small ; nor too small, for the 
muscular co-ordinations in those hands are as yet too 
imperfectly formed, and the eyes are too imperfectly 
trained, to make very fine work of any kind suitable. 


Lines a quarter of an inch apart will give writing of about 
the right size. 

In all acquirement of mechanical skill it is important 

that the same series of movements is always 

repeated to secure any one result. It follows 

that the same formation of letters should be 

used throughout, and that the formation should be chosen 

which l>est leads to the rapid legibility the writing should 

ultimately possess. Simplicity of form and ease of junction 

with other letters should be the characteristics from the first. 

Analysis of letters into simpler elements of form may be 

appealed to in the correction of errors. But 

Fonn^of f SUl '^ :ina V s ^ s s ^ ou l^ not be the foundation 
Letters. o n which the writing is built up. For the 

muscular co-ordinations of actual writing are 
not practised when the elements are made separately, and 
the making of unmeaning shapes is of deadly dulness, 
and hence antagonistic to that concentration of effort 
which is an essential condition of success. 

Capitals should be introduced as soon as the small 
rs can be made from memory. From the beginning 
stops should lo included as an integral part of the writing. 
Careful individual correction of faults is essential 
throughout, but such correction should 
never bu in such ;i i'orm as to discourage 
effort, an- 1 should never refer to more than 
one fault at once. Praise should be awarded in proportion 
to effort ratlin- than to result, for it must be remembered 
that some children are naturally more deft with their 
fingers than ar 
As soon as the children can form the letters from 

___ . iiieni.>rv >h.rt BZeroiaefl in exact mm-in^ 


>t passages from toe printed pa^e should 

.IP writ!:. i, That l.y such exercises 


spelling is also learned is no disadvantage. The teacher's 
corrections must deal with all errors of transcription, 
whether of spelling or of stops, but those relating to the 
writing itself should still keep to one fault at a time, 
though that will be of a more general nature, such as 
want of uniformity of spacing, than in the earlier writing 

When the pupils can write readily with lead pencils, 
they should Ugin to use pen and ink. This 

Use of introduces a new and very real difficulty, 

Pen and Ink. 

and the exercises set should, therefore, be 

such as the children can already do well with the pencil. 

When the children have reached the stage in which they 
can handle the pen with ease, the detailed 
Books* C Py instruction in the forms of letters should no 
longer be generally necessary, though an ex- 
ceptional need may arise which requires to be dealt with on 
the blackboard. The chief aim now should be to increase 
rapidity without sacrificing legibility or beauty of form. 

Here many teachers find engraved copy-books of value, 
though the objections to our engraved head line which ihr 
children copy over and over again down a page are obvious 
and serious. A really satisfactory copy-book gives an en- 
graved model on every alternate line in the earlier stages, 
and one which fills every alternate page in the later. But 
with children who have advanced to the level of which we 
are now speaking, the use of copy-books, or of any other 
lesson dealing solely with the mechanical aspect of writing, 
should become less and less frequent, and the use of writing 
in connection with the copying of passages from books and 
with the direct expression of thought should more aiid 
more take its place. Copy-books are an intermediate stage 
whose object is to cultivate continuity and freedom of 
penmanship by giving models for direct imitation which 


are immediately under the eye. Thus, instruction is better 
given from the blackboard when process is to be imitated 
as well us results, and from engraved copy-books, where 
model and imitation are very close together, when only 
result is to be imitated. 

As soon as the pupils can write with ease, regularity, and 

correctness of form, lessons on the form of 
Rea^Writtng writm ^ nave served their turn, and should be 

discontinued, though an occasional one now 
and then to correct some faulty tendency may be needed. 
Writing by this time should form so constant a part of 
tin- majority of lessons that an insistence on neatness and 
care will do all that is necessary. Much valuable time 
which is now commonly given to mechanical writing 
will thus be saved in the upper classes, and, moreover, 
the teaching of writing will itself more perfectly attain 
its true object, as the pupils will appreciate more fully the 
part which writing really should play in their lives. 

One other point only will we make. As the double 

guiding lines should give place to the single 

Rapid Writing }j lle as sooll as possible, so the single line 
without Lines. f 

it should disappear long before the 

children leave school. No doubt, at first the regularity of 
tli<' product will suffer, but that is a necessary stage in the- 
attainment <>f the power to write without lines. Nor will 
the irregularity le excessive if the pupils are not only 
allowed but encouraged to write as rapidly as thev can 
consistently with writing well. The ideas that speed \\ill 
come without training and that goodness of writing is in 
inverse proportion to speed are both wrong, for each disre- 

is the characteristics of habit formation. 
A> tin- habit of any inuvriiient for example, bicycle 
riding is ar.juired. the natural result of pra.-ti.-e i 

> ;iae speed, and soon the stage is readied \\ln-n 


limitation of speed actually decreases the perfection of 
the result. But if slow performance is continually per- 
sisted in, that also becomes habitual, and then the result 
is to render an increase of speed difficult. Now in 
teaching writing in school the first of these two stages 
is often ignored; the children are prohibited from 
writing at the quickest rate of good writing natural to 
them, and so they fall into the second stage, in which they 
find speed and goodness increasingly difficult to combine. 
Hence, the striking difference frequently found between 
copy-book writing and free writing and the equally strik- 
ing deterioration of writing after school days are over with 
which we are all familiar are seen to originate in the 
mistaken notion that in writing development of speed is 
inconsistent with improvement in style. 

3. Of the equally instrumental, and nearly equally 
S elling mechanical, art of spelling little need be 

said. When once it is recognised that spell- 
u\'.* is nothing more than memory drawing of the pictures 
of words, and is never required except when we want to 
write, it must be granted that it will be learnt primarily 
through practice in the correct drawing of words, and that 
it is only necessary to be able to spell the words we need 
to write. 

Practice in the correct writing of a word is, first, through 

direct imitation till the habit is formed; 
Method of secondly, through reproduction by memory ; 

and the end is secured when the result is 
produced automatically. Spelling is not directly learnt 
through iiiles at all, though rules discovered by com- 
parison of different words may be applied to the criticism 
of faulty results, and hence, by concentrating attention on 
the form, aid its rapi-l acquirement. But the spelling 
memory is essentially a motor memory, and resides, so to 


say, in the fingers rather than in the mind. To the extent 
t<> which one has to think how to spell words it is obvious 
tli at one is hindered in the expression of thought by writ- 
ing, for the attention is withdrawn from the thought to 
the mere mechanism of expression. 

Bearing these principles in mind, the general method by 

which the child is led to acquire spelling is 
Transcription. , . m , /? . . , 

plain. The first exercises will be confined to 

tlir careful examination of the forms of words in a short 
sentence and the subsequent copying of them with perfect 
accuracy, attention being fixed in turn on each letter. 
Tin* same words should be copied over and over again, 
and always in connection with the reading. The forms of 
written words are not in themselves attractive or striking. 
They, therefore, sink into the mind very slowly and only 
alter much practice. The attainment of spelling power 
may easily l>e hindered by too great variety in the words 
first practised. If a child learns to spell one word a day 
on the average he will, if those words have been properly 
selected, have mastered the written form of practically the 
whole of his vocabulary in the first two years after he 
1 and write. What he writes he spells, and 
he writes nothing he has not already read. 
Reproduction of form by memory presupposes the power 

_. . A . to produce the form with accuracy by direct 

Dictation. . .* . . J J 

mutation. Hence dictation should not be 

l*'_:un till a considerable amount of transcription has been 

. ami thru should be confined to words and sentences 

which the children have frequently written from a copy. 

In all formation .if habit it i important that the act should 

always In- done rightly, SO it is better to tell the children 

to leave a blank f-r \\ords they cannot spell than to 

ira-.:* 1 tin-in to gU6Bfl a! tl.c i'orni. Kven after dicta- 

iould l>< I'Ut an occasional exercise. 


It is not a direct means of teaching spelling, though by 
concentrating effort on the correct reproduction by memory 
of forms of words it helps indirectly, and it also makes 
manifest both to pupil and teacher what forms need further 

When the children know the names of the letters they may 

be encouraged to say them silently as they 
Oral Spelling. 

form the letters of new words as a help to 

concentrating their attention upon them, and so making 
the recognition of the elements of form explicit. Some 
children, too, remember more by associations of sound or 
of silent speech than by those of movement or of sight, 
and these are directly helped by such silent spelling. 
But to set children to spell orally and simultaneously a 
set of words they are not writing is very largely a waste 
of time. We do not acquire manual skill by describing 
the needful acts, but by doing the -in. 

What is called 'word building' is an attempt to base 

spelling on conscious logical processes. Now 
'Building* to think of the nu-'-hanism of an act when 

doing it is to prevent it from being \\vll 
done. Let any doubter try the experiment when riding a 
bicycle or playing a piano. The mistake lies in regarding 
spelling as an end in itself and not as a mere instrument 
whose use is perfectly attained only so far as it has become 
automatic. There are, indeed, some few rules of spelling 
which the older children may gather from a comparison of 
instances, and these rules they may apply consciously whrn 
they want to write a word of whose form they are not sure, 
or when they examine critically the form of a word they 
have written. But the more these rules operate uncon- 
sciously the more perfectly they play their part. Hence, 
to keep the attention of the class fixed upon them too 
long is a mistake. It hinders the development of that 


automatism which the teaching of spelling should aim at 

The habit of regarding spelling as an end in itself has 

led to much time being spent over it as 
D' Se t n* over mec h an i ca l writing which could be 

much more profitably employed. Reading 
books have, indeed, frequently been written with the main 
object of presenting vocabularies of increasing difficulty to 
spell. Why anybody should think it desirable to teach a 
child to spell a word he will never need to write is incon- 
ceivable. Formal exercises in spelling should cease about 
the same time as those in writing, and the children should 
be trained to use a small dictionary to supply the spelling 
of any word they wish to use in writing and about the form 
of which they are doubtful. To secure accuracy of form at 
lirst in this way is much better than to trust to correction 
of wrongly written forms. Habituation in the use of a 
dictionary has other and obvious advantages in making 
tlif meaning of words more explicit, and so in keeping 
spelling in touch with the expression of real thought. 
Correction of wrong spelling should be insisted on in every 
piece of writing ; but to set pupils to write for the mere 
sake of spelling is to reverse the relations of the two arts 
and to ignore the true province of each. 

4. Passing by these " base mechanic arts " we must now 

consider how children may best be helped to 

ilr< l lli re the power of expression in language. 

Tli- mistake most commonly made is to teach 
'composition' as a matter mainly, if not entirely, of form. 
This can do nothing but cultivate that use of language to 
conceal the absence of thought which so many of our 
pul.lic men apjM-ar to have c;irrie<l to a fim> art. The rule 
should IN--. "'hit of the aim iidance of the heart the mouth 
apeak- t h." and tin- i'im<lamental excellencies of good sjierrh. 


whether spoken or written, are tersely summed up in the 
advice on preaching once given by a bishop to candidates 
for ordination : " Have something to say ; say it ; leave 
off." Unhappily many public orators regard the first clause 
as superfluous, and the last as inapplicable. 

The whole matter is admirably put by Mr. John 
Morley : "I will even venture, with all respect to those 
who are teachers of literature, to doubt the excellence 
and utility of the practice of over-much essay-writing 
and composition. 1 I have very little faith in rules of 
style, though I have an unbounded faith in the virtue 
of cultivating direct and precise expression. But you 
must carry on the operation inside the mind, and not 
merely by practising literary deportment on paper. It 
is not everybody who can command the mighty rhythm 
of the greatest masters of human speech. But every 
one can make reasonably sure that he knows what 
he means, and whether he has found the right word. 
These are internal operations, and are not forwarded by 
writing for writing's sake. Everybody must be urgent 
for attention to expression, if that attention be exercised 
in the right way. It has been said a million times that 
the foundation of right expression in speech or writing is 
sincerity. That is as true now as it has ever been. Eight 
expression is a part of character. As somebody has said, 
by learning to speak with precision, you learn to think 
with correctness ; and the way to firm and vigorous speech 
lies through the cultivation of high and noble sentiments. 
So far as my observation has gone, men will do better 
if they seek precision by studying carefully and with 
an open mind and a vigilant eye the great models pf 

1 The context makes it evident that Mr. Morley means by ' com- 
position ' exercises in the mere form of expression. 


writing, than by excessive practice of writing on their own 
account." 1 

5. That the mutually dependent powers of clear thinking 

and precise expression do not come by nature 
Specific i 8 evidenced by the large number of people 

Training in who never attain either, and all who have 
lon ' studied children know how they are addicted 
to suggesting or hinting at their moaning rather than to 
expressing themselves fully and clearly. The school should, 
therefore, cultivate these powers always in connection 
with each other, and every lesson furnishes opportunities 
for doing this. For expression in speech of what is in the 
mind is not an occasional fact in life, but a constant 
activity. Every exercise of this, as of other activities, 
helps to form a habit of doing it well or ill. Consequently, 
it is needful for children to be led to make a conscious 
effort to do it well, and to avoid the errors to which they 
are prone. This is the justification for special lessons in 
ilio use of language. 

6. It is further evident that, as the formation of good 

habits should be begun as soon as possible 

J~ after the activity becomes conscious, train- 
ten Expression. * 

ing in speech should be given even before 
the child learns to read, and training in written language as 
soon as he has mastered the elements of the mechanical art 
of writ inu r . Kurt her, that training in both oral and written 
expression should be continued throughout school life. 
These are often regarded as mere duplicates of each other. 
They have, however, somewhat different functions, ex- 
pressed wiili epigrammatic terseness by Bacon when he 
wrote : " Beading maketh a full man ; conference a ready 
man; an<l writing an exact man." 2 

*'> I y of Literature. 



We have seen that in the infant school readiness of 
speech is the chief result to be aimed at, and that cor- 
rections of form should not be so insistent as to check 
the freedom of the child's utterances. And always in oral 
expression, copiousness, general arrangement and intelligi- 
bility are of more importance than the more detailed 
niceties of choice of word and phrase. These are mainly 
dealt with in written work or in oral exercises in imme- 
diate connection with written work. In the oral repro- 
duction of what has been heard or read, or description 
of what has been experienced, then, the teacher should 
incidentally correct grammatical errors, ambiguous con- 
structions and confused arrangement, but should not 
discuss the relative claims of various words and phrases. 
The incidence of attention should be on the matter, and 
almost any form should be accepted which conveys a 
sufficient, clear and accurate impression of that matter to 
the minds of the hearers. 

7. The special lessons in language, however, put the inci- 
dence of attention on the form. Hence, the 
ideas to be expressed should be such as are 
Language. sufficiently familiar to need no further effort 
.at apprehension. The exercises should be 
graduate"! primarily on the basis of an increasing com- 
plex ity in the matter to be expressed. Increased complexity 
of idea demands increased complexity of expression, but 
complexity of expression without corresponding complexity 
of idea is meaningless and artificial. 

With the youngest children, then, the ideas to be ex- 
pressed should be very simple, such, indeed, 
Early Lessons. J 

as can be adequately expressed in a single 

sentence. Of course the children should not be asked to 
' make a sentence,' but to state a fact. For example, the 
teacher or one of the children may do some simple action, 


such as opening a door or window or taking up a book, 
and the children may be asked to tell what has been done. 
They reply orally, and the various answers are examined 
critically by the class with the specific aim of telling the 
fact in the plainest and neatest way. The final result is 
written on the blackboard and copied by the children. 
After a little practice the children may sometimes be 
allowed to write such simple statements without the pre- 
liminary oral discussion. In this manner the most common 
forms of sentence construction become familiar, and the 
beginning is made of a habit of critical selection of 

Soon the children advance beyond single sentences to 

their combination in a paragraph. Indeed, 
Paragraph ^ * s ^^r ^ regard the paragraph as the 

unit of composition throughout, and the 
earliest exercises as single sentence paragraphs. The first 
step may be to take a familiar object or simple picture, 
and ask the children to answer questions about it. These 
<|M(-stions should be carefully prepared so that their com- 
l'in>d answers give a methodical account of the object. 
Each answer is given in a sentence which is discussed as 
tefore, and the final form written on the board, of course 
with the j.mpcr stops. The whole is now examined, and 
by rt-a-liiiLT it aloud the children will perceive that it is 
jerky in form, owing to the independent origin of each 
sentiM !(. They may then be led to modify this by the 
substitution of relative for absolute words and the inser- 
ti<n of connective words. This must not be carried 
too far at first, or the opposite result of a long, raml.lin- 
discourse u ith its elements connected everywhere by ' and' 
may result. In a Minilar way, accounts of simple school 
events with which all an- acquainted may Ixs worked out 
and expressed in tin- form of a letter. Reproductions of 

PE. 1- 


parts of lessons inay be similarly dealt with and will 
furnish abundance of varied material. 

In the earlier exercises the questions should be given 
orally, and each should be answerable in one simple 
sentence. As the pupils' power increases the questions 
will become wider, so as to demand more and more effort 
and skill in constructing the answers, and may well be 
written on the blackboard, so as to be on view whilst these 
more complex answers are being discussed. In the dis- 
cussions the aim should be to lead the children beyond the 
mere vague feeling that one construction, expression, or 
word is better than another though that will be the 
starting-point to seeing a reason why it is so. For it 
must be remembered that speech, though often guided 
by emotion un<l 1'cding, is essentially an intellectual 
art. Some knowlc.l^- of grammatical analysis will be 
found very helpful in the criticism. As skill is attained 
exerciser in which the pupils write answers to questions 
wittc-n n tlu- l>l;icklio;inl without the oral discussion, 
and in which, coiiscqucnlly, each individual freely works 
out his own thoughts, will become more frequent. 

A higher stage is reached when, without such definite 
questions, an outline is drawn out in conver- 
sation, written on the blackboard and used as 
a guide to the composition. Here the pupils 
are first called upon to apply the results of the imitation 
of arrangement of ideas which has been implicit in the 
preceding exercises to making such an arrangement for 
themselves. The first exercises of this kind may appro- 
priately be the reproduction of a story told or read, or a 
part of a recent oral lesson, when the required arrange- 
ment is in its main outlines a matter of intelligent 
memory. Of course, the reproduction should not imme- 
diately follow the reception, especially in the case of a 


storv. or more mechanical memory is likely to play too 
la r-v a {>urt. 

The drawing up of outlines by the co-operative efforts oi 
the class should be continued in all subjects in which tho 
n -suit to be attained is a logical arrangement of matter 
known in common by the pupils, until every pupil has an 
insight into the principles on which such arrangements are 
based. But gradually the blackboard outline will grow 
shorter and more general, and will be completed by the 
pupils individually. At last the time is reached when 
each pupil can draw up his own outline for himself. The 
attainment of this power is, of course, much facilitated 
when teaching with text-books largely takes the place of 
oral lessons. For in his text-book the young student 
has his matter, and in the general questions to which 
his tearhcr has set him to find answers he has the general 
form to which that matter has to be adjusted. So he 
learns to write brief synopses of the chapters from various 
points of view. Of course, he has the book before him to 
ivt'i-r to when writing his summaries, and in that way is 
acquiring the power of really using books as means to attain 
\vn purposes. 1 

So far we have confined ourselves to matter in which 
arrangement of ideas may be made in 
Individual and commO n. But side by side with such exer- 
ExenJises^ c ^ s there should also be others to which 
such common work would be fatal, as 
they appeal to tin- imagination of the children, and all 
imagination must be individual. These may be intro- 
duced when the children are about nine or ten years old, 
for l>v that time they should be able to write a page of 
intelligent and fairly well e.\pivs>rd Kn^lish. 

frin- of BXeraMI f this kind are asking 1 he 
1 Cf. pp. 82-4. 


children to finish a story of which the first part has been 
read to them ; to write a story analogous to one told them ; 
to write a story which would be illustrated by a simple 
picture ; to write a story suggested by a few bald state- 
ments, or even by single words, as, for example, boy, man, 
dog, bull, field, river; to write a letter describing an 
imaginary incident. It should be remembered, however, 
that imagination grows out of imitation, and is guided by 
knowledge. There is no value in letting the children 
simply produce the riotings of untrammelled fancy. 
Hence, some inner consistency should be looked for in all 
imaginative productions. 

8. A course on the lines which have just been broadly 

sketched should succeed in keeping expres- 

Influence of 8 j on united with thought, in securing some 
Reading on & 

Expression. power of arrangement of thought, and some 

facility in lucid expression. However, it must 
be borne in mind that speech, spoken and written, is largely 
a matter of imitation, and that the results attained will, 
therefore, be in direct relation to the value of the models set 
before the pupils in the books they read and in the teacher's 
speech. Such detailed examination of pieces of literature 
as was described in a previous chapter l will have a very 
real, if not immediately apparent, influence on the forma- 
tion of style ; for many lessons will incidentally be learned 
as to construction, use of words, employment of illustra- 
tion, and harmony of general effect. 

9. A few words must be said on the teacher's examination 

of the written exercises. In a large class this 

Correction of i s obviously a matter of practical difficulty, 
Exercises in i i. n 

Composition. vet unless it is done effectually improvement 

is hindered. The short exercises of the 
youngest classes present no difficulty. They can generally 
1 See pp. 151-9. 


be examined as the teacher walks round his class whilst 
the children are writing, or immediately they have finished. 
But as the exercises become longer they cannot be so 
marked. It is obvious that no examination will be satis- 
factory except that of the teacher. Time can generally be 
found for it whilst the pupils are engaged in silent read- 
in u r , so that but little will usually be left to be done out of 
school hours. In no case would a teacher be justified in 
exhausting his vitality by giving too much of his spare time 
to this marking. It is better to mark thoroughly half the 
class in one exercise and the other half in the next than to 
nn ark the whole each time in a perfunctory manner. But 
exercises in which the composition has been first done 
orally, or those in which the outline has been worked out 
1 iy t he whole class, take little time to read and mark, and 
long exercises in which this has not been done will only 
become frequent as the pupils get that power of expression 
which makes serious faults infrequent. 

Much time is saved if the teacher and class have a 
recognised system of signs. An underlined word may 
11 1 -a n a mistake in spelling, a C in the margin a fault in 
construction, a O a piece of bad grammar, and so on. The 
teacher then only writes these signs and returns the 
exercises to the pupils, who, in the next language lesson, 
set to work to correct them, the. teacher passing round and 
helping where he finds need. No careless work slum Id erer 
be examined at all, but the onVnder should be set to do 
itagain. Children can soon l>e brought to understand that 
llie s<-h<>>l .-alls t'l.r can-fill elT.irl. and will le satisfied 
with nothing ietfl. It any one kind of error is common 
in a - t ..f .-\erciscs the teacher will do Well to di>cii-s 
it ..rally with the whole class. 

1". Th. -re remain- t.. decide the place which study 
of Knu'li-di grammar should hold in the primary school. 


The subject has become generally unpopular with both 
teachers and scholars, and is banished from 
Grammar ^ ie curriculum of many schools. And if 
by grammar is meant the mass of verbal 
subtleties and logical inconsistencies which have too often 
passed under the name, its disappearance is in every way a 
gain. Nevertheless, there is not only use, but need, for 
a grammar which aims at making explicit the structure 
of the speech in which our thoughts must be expressed. 
Such a grammar is subordinate and instrumental. It 
enables the pupils to criticise intelligently the construction 
of sentences, to separate them into their constituent 
elements, and, if desiraUe, to rearrange those elements 
into a new whole. 

The most common mistake in the teaching of grammar 
has l>een the overloading it with distinctions derived from 
highly inflectional languages, but largely inapplicable to an 
analvtir language like English. In such a language it is 
not the forms but the functions of words to which attention 
should be directed. For all meaning is expressed in con- 
tinuous speech, and the constitutent parts of such speech, 
her sentences or clauses or phrases or words, get their 
i'u 11 force and meaning only in relation to the whole. Of 
any constituent piece of discourse the important gram- 
matical question then is: What is its relation to the other 
constituents and to the whole ? 

It follows that the grammatical examination of language 
\\ liich should find a place in school is never merely verbal. 
It is always an inquiry into meaning and into 11 it- 
adequacy ^vitli which meaning is expressed. When thus 
iv^ardi'd it is seen to be often helpful, and at times need- 
ful. For the great weakness of an analytic language, as a 
means of expressing thought, is its liability to aml>iu r uit v 
of construction. No language offers more pitfalls of this 


kind for the unwary than English, and, it may be added, 
in none is more frequent advantage taken of them. 

The function of school grammar is, then, to help the 
pupils to get a clear and distinct apprehension of thought 
when it is obscurely expressed, to see the origin of the 
ol.x-urit y, and, as a consequence, to develop power to avoid 
similar weaknesses. Of course, grammar by itself will 
never do this, but when it is kept in close touch with the 
other studies in English, and especially with composition, 
it is a valuable auxiliary. 

When this principle is grasped, teachers will stop the 
grammatical analysis at the point where it ceases to help 
in making the construction of sentences clearer. They 
will thus avoid wandering into those minute verbal dis- 
tinctions and classifications, the application of which 
hinders rather than helps the object in view. It is not 
in M-d ful to be always teaching something new. Like 
arithmetic, the value and function of grammar are mainly 
found in practical a pplications of a comparatively few 
-em-nil ideas. 

Again, it should be remembered that grammatical 
analysis is a severely intellectual act, and is therefore,' in 
itself, opposed to the emotional influence of literature. It 
should not, therefore, be applied to passages whose effect 
we desire to be mainly emotional or aesthetic. Indeed, 
it is only o,-,-a vioiially that the appreciation of a sentence in 
real literature will be aided by analysis. The pupils may 
learn the use of the instrument on less worthy material, 
and, when they are proficient in it, may use it to help them 
Loth in understanding involved passages in their reading 
and in crit icisin-_r their own product ions. Hut to;inal\se 
,md parse a sonnet till \\o ha\e reduced it to a mere ma^s 
_,'ical relations, till, indeed, it has no form nor I.eauty 
ue >hould d. 'oiiiinit an outrage both on 


literature and on the children who are called upon to take 
part in the process of dissection. 

11. A syllabus of grammar suitable to a primary 

school would, then, be arranged on the basis 

Principles of of increasing differentiation of function, be- 

Grammar g mnm g with the most important relations, 

such as concord of nominative and verb, and 

gradually working down to more detailed distinctions. The 

teaching will always be oral, and inductive in character. 

From examination of examples the pupils will be led to 

see the value and meaning of the distinctions made, and to 

formulate general statements of them. 

No regular course in historical grammar is desirable, but 
interest may frequently be added to lessons in literature, 
geography, and history by tracing the history of certain 
words when that history bears upon some aspect of life or 

No doubt, some teachers will teach more grammar than 
others. We have only attempted to lay down the broad 
principles upon which the teaching should be based. What 
may be regarded as a minimum, yet sufficient, course will 
be found outlined in the following chapter. 



1. WE will now gather together the threads of our dis- 
cussion of the teaching of English by sum- 
p^ ma rising the principles which have been 

operative in it throughout. They are : 

(i) That all the studies included under the term ' English ' 
should form an organic whole, and be so taught as to aid 
and illustrate each other. 

(ii) That the main purpose in teaching children to read is 
to help them to acquire both the wish and the power to read 
good literal HIT after they leave school: to this the elocu- 
tionary aspect of reading is subordinate. 


(a) Reading in si lence, followed by conversation on. what 
lias l>een read, should form an integral part of school work 
in all classes above the infant school. 

The contents of tin- reading books is of prime im- 
portance: it should U- varied and interesting; imaginative 
and hiinioroiis : in-tru.-ii\e only in the sense of organism:: 
thought and knowledge, and in surest in-- lines of iii.juirx. 
(in) Thai learning 1-y heart should U> t he nat lira I out- 
l.'li'jht excited iii the pupils 1>\ passages which 
appeal to them, and should, t hen-fore, be a constant 
feature in the \\.,rK. 




It is a mistake to fix a number of Hues to be learnt by 
each child in a given time. This tends to separate recita- 
tion from literature, and to reduce the learning by heart 
to a mechanical exercise : the minimum, after being pre- 
pared, is repeated till the children get thoroughly wejirv 
of it. 

(iv) That verbal expression passes through the broad 
stages of reproduction, imitation with variation, and 
origination, and is a power exercised by the child before 
he conies to school. 


(a) Children should from the first l>e trained in expres- 
sion by speech, and this oral work should be continued 
throughout the school course, confined mainly to reproduc- 
livc expression. 

(b) In written composition practice should be given 
both in arranging and expressing knowledge and in giving 
form to original and imaginative ideas. 

(c) That pieces of literature should be examined with 
respect to their form, so that there may be conscious 
adaptive imitation of good models. 

(v) That spelling is merely instrumental to writing, and 
writing to the expression of thought. 


(a) Spelling should be made subordinate, and should be 
taught mainly by transcription of passages expressing 
familiar tin nights in familiar words. 

(6) Wrilten compositions should form part of the 
regular work as soon as the mechanical art of writing has 
been fairly mastered, and the chief practice in writing and 
spelling should thereafter be by means of such com- 


(vi) That grammar is mainly inst ni mental in the work 
of the primary school. Its functions arc to help the pupil 
to disentangle passages which are obscure and confused to 
him. by making explicit the connections of thought, and to 
criticise his own productions. 


School grammar should be essentially analytic, and 
should omit all elaborate distinctions of 'parsing' dis- 
tinctions often adopted from Latin, and really inapplicable 
to a language in which inflections are few. 

(vii) That from one-fourth to one-third of the school 
time should l>e given to the study and practice of English. 

2. We will end by illustrating how these principles may 
V>e applied in the drawing out an outline 

C01 6 r " ul>( ' f stu 'V for a Primary scn <>ol. It 
will be understood that the work of each 
is graded and merges gradually into that of the 
group above. 

I /, ' / <" 'fites (ages 7-9 ; First and Second Years). 

(i) Reading and telling of suitable stories by the 

i Reading aloud from books containing such 
matter as nursery and fairy stories. Tin- books 
should be sufficiently numerous to prevent the 
lessons being learnt by heart by continual re- 

bVading silently >f passages, with conversation 

following. Additional books should U- provided 

in a class lending library which the children 

should |M> i-ncoiiiMged it home. 

(ii- < .wling books shoidd contain simple short 

M suitable i'or young children, some of \\ hicli 


should be learnt by heart. This learning should 
be individual. 

(iv) (a) Answering questions on matter read, and on 

meanings of passages, phrases, and words. 
(6) Oral reproduction by individual children of 
simple stories read in class or at home, either 
orally or silently, or told or read by the teacher. 

(c) Oral reproduction of portions of lessons. 

(d) Relation by children of incidents in their own 

(e) Talks about simple pictures, e.g. those in the 
reading books. 

(v) (a) Formal writing lessons dealing with the forma- 
tion of letters, both small and capital, figures, 
and punctuation marks. 
(6) Transcription of written and printed passages. 

(c) Occasional dictation of carefully prepared 
passages containing no words whose written 
form is not familiar to the children. 

(d) Simple written compositions based on answers 
to questions, and discussed orally in class before 
being written. 

II. Intermediate Classes (ages 9-11 ; Third ami Fnm-tli 

(i) Reading by teacher of suitable stories and passages 
both in prose and in verse. 

(ii) As under I., but amount of silent reading con- 
tinually increasing. One of the reading books 
should be historical. 

(iii) Similar to I., but longer and more advanced 
passages learnt. 


(iv) Similar to I., but with continually increasing 
demands as to fulness and arrangement of matter 
and fitness and correctness of expression. 

(v) (a) More advanced than I., and decreasing in 
amount till each kind of exercise disappears as 
children attain proficiency. 

(6) Written compositions, beginning with simple 
answers to questions, extending to narratives and 
descriptions, gradually increasing in length and 
complexity. The writing of simple letters dealing 
with children's actual experiences. Such exercises 
generally to be preceded by oral discussion and 
the drawing out of an outline. Simple and brief 
imaginative compositions, such as the invention 
of a short story, suggested in fairly obvious ways. 
N.B. The greatest possible variety in 

written composition exercises to be aimed at. 

Some such work to be done daily. 

(vi) Grammar. 

(a) Division of all sentences into subject and pre- 

<1 irate. 

(6) Sul division of logical predicate into verb, 
object, and adverbial adjunct, together with 
noun, adjective, and pronoun, 
(c) Tense, person, and number in connection with 
concord of nominative and verb; case. 

N.B. 1. At this stage 'adverb,' 'adjective.' 

' noun ' will be used indiscriminately for word, 

phrase, or clause : it is the function of tin- 

l'iii-iiis <>f the sentence that is to be studied. 

N.B. 2. In ni"st schools it would be inad- 

I'le to begin this work Ufoiv tin- Fourth 


III. Higher Classes (ages 11-14; Fifth, Sixth, and Seventh 


(i) Beading by teacher of pieces of beautiful litera- 

(ii) Reading both silently and aloud from books con- 
taining stories, passa-vs from literature of de- 
scriptive, narrative and declamatory character, 
essays and poetry. One at least of the books 
read by each child should be one continuous 
story, and one should be historical. Others 
should contain varied selections of different 
length, but all of literary merit. A class library 
should be regarded as indispensable. 

(iii) (a) The intensive study of selected passages of 
prose and poetry, and, in the highest class, of a 
play of Shakespeare. Attention to points of 
style, moaning and interpretation of figurative 

(6) Learning by heart, and recitation of passa. 
poetry and prose. Each such passage to form an 
artistic whole, but, as a rule, to be of only moderate 
length. The passages should be varied both in 
matter and in style. The learning should be 
individual and voluntary. 

(iv) Similar to I. and II., but with continual improve- 
ment in fulness and style. 

(v) Written compositions similar to II., but of a 
more advanced character. Especially more ad- 
vanced original and imaginative compositions, 
such as the completion of an unfinished story, 
the composition of a story suggested in various 
ways, letters describing imaginary incidents, 
parodies. Writing of synopses of matter read. 


Finding answers to questions by reference to 

books indicated by teacher, 
(vi) Grammar. 

(a) Distinction of word, phrase and clause, together 

with relative pronoun (now first distinguished as 

a class apart), conjunction and preposition. 
(6) Application of (a) to analysis of complex and 

compound sentences, emphasis being placed on 

relations of clauses. 

(c) Cognate words and their formation from, or 
relation in form to, each other. 

(d) Investigations into exact definitions of some 
common words and into simple examples of 
reasoning. These exercises to be done Socrati- 
oally, the value being in the process rather than 
in the result. 

Tin- following IxH.ks aiv recommended to the teacher : 
(hi /,'. if fin'/ Aluii'l : 

Km irll: Clear Speaking ami C 1 

Reading 2/6 (Longmans). 

the Teaching of /. 

Carpenter, Baker, ami Scott : Tin- 
Teaching "l" Kn_'lish in tli- Kir 
iiifulary and the Secondary School 6/- (Lon^man^t. 

\Vil>on : Lingua Materna ... ... 3/<> (K. Arnold). 

iiing tin- Language 
Arts 4/<j (Appl. 

Laurie: Language ami Lin-. 

Method 4/- (Olm-r a. id Bo; 

Boanl ot Kdn.-ation: Sn-,. 

the ei.n.-iderat ion <! T a ! 

}<}>. '.'S 3 -/S (Wy.nanandSon). 

On the Selection of Mailer : 

: l'i inn i -..I' Mnglish 
Literature I/- (Ma.-millan). 


Dowden : Shakespeare Primer ... I/- (Macmillan). 

Haxlitt : Characters of Shakespeare's 

Plays I/- (Dent). 

Harrison : The Choice of Books ... 4/- (Macmillan). 

Morley : Studies in Literature 
Essay on the Study of Litera- 
ture ... ... ... ... ... 4/- (Macmillan). 

Vaughan : English Literary Criti- 
cism 3/6 (Blackie). 



1. Music as a subject of instruction occupies a somewhat 

unique position. While many of the subjects 

Musi^Teaching ^ curriculum have a direct and practical 

1 tearing on the everyday business of life, others 

>r should be, mainly or entirely a source of pleasure, 

and amongst those music stands in the first rank. The 

study of music, indeed, provides valuable incidental 

occasion for activities which are more directly exercised 

in other studies; but it is most essential for the teacher 

to remember that unless music be regarded rather from 

tin* point of view of relaxation than from that of business 

using this word in its scholastic sense its true function 

will IK abrogated. 

That music is an expression of emotion is one of the 
c 'iimionplaces of musical philosophy. It conies natural 
we say, for children to sinir. and in BO far as th.- t.-achrr 
bases his instruction on the principle of cultivating this 
spontaneous musical experience he will !< building on a 
foundation which will U>ur any superstructure that further 
study can rear upon it. If. however, the teacher proceeds 
on the assumption that his main concern is to teach the 
child to solve various rlnt tunic conundrums in pitch and 
rhythm, thereby tWitiag the illbjecl from the standpoint 

i: T. White, 

TO. 13 


of an exact science, the child will regard it as such, and 
spontaneity the very essence of music will l>e checked at 
the outset. 

Moreover, one cannot altogether disregard the fact that 
with a child who is naturally musical and there are more 
of these in the world than is commonly supposed the 
practice of the art will occupy a large share of his attention 
after his school days are over. There are very few subjects 
of study of which this can be said, and it is therefore ;i 
matter of importance to consider how best we can make 
our school music lessons a stepping-stone to future ad- 
vancement in the art. 

There is another consideration to be urged in favour of 
music, and one which has great weight with those who 
realise the dangers which beset young people when first 
they go out " into the world." A youth who has no social 
accomplishment feels awkward and out of place in good 
society, and too often seeks relaxation in directions which 
do not lead to refinement of character. But if he lias 
attained to some degree of proficiency in either vocal or 
instrumental music he is sure of a welcome in any intel- 
lectual circle, for music is the most sociable of all arts. 
Hence, if during school life we can lay a good foundation 
for further study in music, and, above all, inculcate a real 
liking for it, we shall be giving our children an equipment 
which will be of inestimable value to them in a critical 
period of their lives. 

2. The objects of the study of music in schools are, then, 
first to develop and cultivate that liking for 

Objects of the mu sic which the vast maiority of children 

Study of Music ^ .,., 

in Schools. possess, and, secondly, to facilitate, as far as 

is consistent with the first-named object, 
the acquisition of some technical skill in the making of 


Unfortunately, many schemes of instruction in the past 
have inverted the order of these aims, and have been almost 
entirely ronrerned with the technical side; with the hi- 
t-vital >! ivsult that there is quite an army of young people 
who can sing or play fairly correctly but are entirely devoid 
of that indefinable but very real quality, musical taste. 
The result is seen in the worship of prodigies of almost 
superhuman technique, and the lack of appreciation of 
art 1st s whose musical insight is superior to their mechanical 
de.Merity. Any improvement in the popular musical taste 
which manifests itself in this country in future years will 
U- din-, in a lar-v measure, to the influence of the teachers 
f music in the primary schools. 

The cultivation of musical taste opens up such a wide 
Held of inquiry that the limits of this chapter preclude 
more than a hasty survey. First of all, musical taste pre- 
sumes that its possessor has been habitually confronted by 
good models. The taste of a child who has heard nothing 
but the comic songs of the day is not likely to be very 
refined. Hence the teacher must seize every opportunity 
of providing good music for his pupils. But what is 
' good ' music ? A definition would be difficult to frame. 
Good music is not necessarily complicated indeed, some 
ot' the music which is universally acknowleged as fine in 
every sense, such as that of many of our hymn tunes, is 
perfectly simple. 

The chief characteristic of good music is that one never 
grows tired of it. Jt will appeal with added force at each 
repetition; new beauties will reveal themselves. Hence, if 
a melody which at first seemed particularly attractive gn\\ s 
less so when repeated, it is fairly certain that it dors not 
fully satisfy the canons of good taste. Of course the 
personal equation must cm. r lu-ek into taste. It 
uou. i- the te.i.-li.-i nod 


examples indiscriminately to his class ; the age of 
his pupils and other circumstances must be taken into 

Again, it is a great mistake to expect the members of 
the class to do all the music-making. The teacher himself 
should be capable of giving a simple vocal or instrumental 
performance occasionally, and it is rare nowadays to find 
a school staff on which there is not at least one meml^er 
efficient in some branch of music. It is rightly enough 
leing recognised that the music lesson should not be 
<-iil rusted to a teacher who is not really musical, and, if it 
can l>e arranged, the most musical member of the school 
staff should superintend all the music lessons. 

3. In large schools it is possible to form a school choir 

consisting of the best pupils from each class. 
School Choirs. T11T .,, . ,, . . 

With proper safeguards this is an excellent 

plan. Such a choir will naturally be able to reach a higher 
standard of musical attainment than will any of the ordinary 
classes, and will demonstrate to these what is possible in 
thf direction of vocal music. Admission to this choir 
should be looked upon as a privilege, and also as a ri-ht 
belonging to any child who gives evidence of good progress. 
School concerts, occasionally given, also supply a stimulus 
to the young vocalists to put forth their very hest efforts. 
Human nature being what it is, some incentive of this 
kind is necessary if a high standard of excellence is to be 

4. Only rarely is it possible to organise school orchestras. 

Such orchestras as do exist with a few rare 
Orchestras exceptions certainly do not contribute to- 
wards the formation of a good musical taste. 
The difficulties met with are of such a character as cannot 
fairly be dealt with in schools, and had better be encoun- 
tered outside. 


5. Once uuuin. since the cultivation of taste presupp 

tlu i continuous presentation of good models, 

it follows that great care must be taken in 

the choice of exercises and songs. With regard to the 

latter u very wide field of choice is open. Of late years all 

musical publishers of note have exploited this field with 

i Its. It would be invidious to particularise, 

l>ut a teacher who pays a visit to Messrs. Novello or to 

M. <srs. Curweii will find hundreds of really good songs 

from which to choose. Nevertheless, some discrimination 

will be necessary. 

There lias Kvii a movement recently in favour of making 
tin- so-called K Mulish 'Folk-song' the staple food in the 
way of songs for primary schools. Unfortunately, there 
a iv not very many of these true 'folk-songs' now available ; 
and most of the 'national' songs are unsuitable. The 
traditional tunes are, generally speaking, of a high order of 
merit, but the words are too often of a character which 
unfits them for school use. It is only necessary to examine 
mprehensive selection in order to realise the force of 
this objection. However, there remain a few which do 
not err in this respect, and these should be taught in every 
school. The words of songs always require consideration 
r they are selected for class purposes. Children will 
take a liking to a song independently of its tune if tin- 
words are attractive, Imt few tunes have sufficient charm 
ike their way if wedded to words which are un- 

The appreciation of purr instrumental music seems to 

c..nie rather late in a child's life, unless he is making it 

md then tho pleasure 18 not entirely musi.-al. 

haps accounts 1W the t'a.-l that many classical 

in their way as iiii u r li! ! exjKM-h'd 

i'Ui the ebbborfttton -r the 


accompaniment and the lack of directness in the words fail 
to commend the songs to young people. Few teachers would 
be foolish enough to select ' love- songs ' for class purposes, 
but it is just as incongruous to ask children who have no 
living idea of a mountain or the sea to do justice to a song 
apostrophising these natural objects. Moreover, it should 
be remembered that no singer can give a good rendering to 
a song unless he can recite the words intelligently and 
forcibly, which he certainly cannot do if he does not fully 
understand and appreciate the sentiment. 

When considering the suitability of a song from the 
melodic standpoint it is important to notice that pupils 
taking the first or second year's course must not be con- 
fronted with any but the simplest rhythms and smooth 
melodic outlines. The standard of difficulty of the songs 
should always be somewhat lower than that of the 

Then, again, it must be observed that some melodies are 
quite difficult and entirely ineffective without an accom- 
paniment. This point is too frequently overlooked. If 
the melody of a song is intended to be sung without its 
proper accompaniment, this accompaniment ought not to 
consist of rapidly changing chords, because the omission 
of these will leave a sense of bareness. If, however, the 
accompaniment is formed of only a few chords constantly 
recurring it does not matter if these chords are spread out 
into arpeggi the melody itself usually contains a sugges- 
tion of the harmony, and the accompaniment is not so 
much missed. 

Again, the songs included in each year's course should 
be chosen from two standpoints. There should be some 
for detailed study, that is, songs whose beauties will reveal 
themselves more and more as they are better known ; and 
there should be others of the recreative order, chosen, that 


i>. I -realise the children will get healthy amusement from 
sin^ui-- them. It is juite possible that the teacher will 
find that he has miscalculated the taste of his class when 
choosing a song of this second type: in that case he should 
not force this song upon the class, but quietly let it disap- 
pear from his scheme and substitute another. 

Songs of this type should, even in the upper divisions, 
be sung in unison, except that perhaps the refrain, if there 
is one. may be sung in 'parts.' An accompaniment of 
course adds to the enjoyment, and it is a mistake to get an 
i refinement into the rendering; more than a 
Mi>piiuon of abandon is desirable. Of course, this does 
not imply coarseness. 

6. This type of song should be taught by* ear, at any 
rate in the lower classes. In the very laud- 
Singing by able anxiety to teach every child to read 
musical notation, we have somewhat over- 
lo.iked the value of the more empirical method of teaching 
iiig. After all, this is the way we learn to talk, and 
we talk before we can read. In fact, the one object of 
learning to read music is to entice the pupil to make him- 
self ar<|iiaintrl \\ith musical literature of which he would 
otherwise remain ignorant. But at the same time it is 
possible to obtain more than a passing acquaintance with 
musical literature without being able to read it; much of 
folk -song music is unwritten, albeit those races which are 
l.y u r ''iirral consent regarded as highly musical are those 
which possess a vast storehouse of these traditional tunes. 
lea in iimsir arc apparently .Irsi^ne.l with 
thr main il.-;i of traehinu' chiMrrn to i;-,t,l music, not to 
show tin-in how to /</,,/</ it SO as to obtain thnvtYoin the 
maximum of enjoyment. Moreover, sin^in^ \>\ rar' 
lies a good deal of ear training of a valuable kind. 

Tin- mrth'"l ..f trarh >_,' by ear is a fairK ol.vious 


one. The first line or phrase is sung two or three times 
by the teacher and repeated by the class ; the second 
phrase is then attacked in the same way and then both the 
phrases together, and so on through the song. If any 
awkward melodic intervals occur, they should be referred 
to the modulator, and any unfamiliar rhythms should be 
analysed separately. The melody can be learnt indepen- 
dently of the words, although it is often easier to teach 
both together. 

The tunes thus taught can and should be utilised inci- 
dentally in the following way 

(a) If the rhythms have been already learnt in the 
ordinary course they should be identified and written 

(b) The tunes can be used as voice exercises to the open 

(c) The various melodic phrases can be used as ear tests 
and pointed out by the pupils on the modulator or written 

(d) The most musical pupils can be invited to write 
down the tune in full. 

(e) Generally speaking the tunes can be used as standards 
to which many difficulties occurring in other directions of 
musical study can be referred. 

There is another consideration to be borne in mind in 
connection with singing by ear. In the opening paragraph 
it was maintained that the chief principle underlying the 
study of music in schools is not that the children should 
acquire musical knowledge though this is certainly a 
secondary object but that they should be guided so that 
they can enjoy music as an art rather than as a science. 
Clearly this condition will be most nearly fulfilled in that 
part of the lesson devoted to singing by ear. Few pupils 
can obtain much pleasure from the mere deciphering of 


musical svmbols, except in so far as they anticipate some 
enjoyment in the future derivable from the increase. 1 
facility in the reproduction of musical sounds which such 
practice ensures. There certainly is an intellectual side to 
music, for example the principle of Form, but this is quite 
:id the comprehension of young children; to these it 
is the emotional element which appeals. 

7. The power of harmony to enforce the beauty of 
melody is generally recognised; moreover, 
harmony considered by itself, as, for example, 
in a sustained chord, has a special charm. An elemen- 
tary study of chords should be introduced into the curri- 
culum from the earliest stages. They should be sung 
y, so that each singer can hear the whole chord, and 
not only his particular note. The simplest chord is of 
course d m 8, and in whatever order these notes are ar- 
ranged the result will always be a harmonious chord. If 
the teacher bears this in mind, a little ingenuity will 
enable him to devise a great variety of useful exercises. 
For instance, the class can be divided into halves; the 
memU-rs of one division can hold between them the notes 
of the chord, while the rest can sing a melody founded on 
the notes of the chord. Or one half of the (lass can sing 
the m-j'-'i'iio upwards, while the other sin L, r s it downuards, 
t \\o-part harmony thus being formed. These exercises 
.M l>e rhythmic. Too often rhythm is excluded from 
ises in tune, rhythm being treated as if it were 
mer.-ly invented to furnish material for the construction 
of 'time-tests.' 1 Melody without rhythm is incompatible 

ur modern musical system. 

Th- naievt, and ai ne time one of the most 

i he ' h'oiind.' lii I'a-'t. 

\M-IV i]..; tor th,- round, the opportunities for real 
M p. '-MM: ,/. ,,,,. L'||-9. 


part-singing in schools would be rather limited, as the 
restricted compass of the voices precludes the possibility <!' 
introducing harmony of the conventional kind. It should, 
however, be noticed that there is a tendency in sin^in : 
rounds for the singers to forget the canons of voice pro- 
duction in their anxiety to keep their own part. This 
must be checked by keeping the amount of tone below/c/ /< . 

Part-singing of the usual type, that is treble and alto, is 
an important accomplishment, no doubt, but the plan 
frequently adopted of setting the best pupils to sing the 
lower part or parts simply because they can read fluently, 
regardless of the compass of their voices, is ruinous to th" 
singing of the class as a whole. Treble voices must SMIL? 
hvl>lt> and alto voices must sing alto; if there are no alt<> 
voices in the class, then there must be only unison sinking. 
There is nothing to be gained by trying to convert a good 
treble into a bad alto voice. A pupil's voice should ! 
d on entry into a class, and again after two or three 
months' interval, as the voice with practice will sometimes 
develop differently from what one might expect. 

As far as songs are concerned, the ordinary teacher will 
find it best not to attempt three or four-part work. The 
lowest part is generally too low or the highest too hi^-h I'm- 
satisfactory tone production, although occasionally a son-- 
not open to these objections is met with. 1 The best plan 
is to take three and four-part rounds in the higher divisions ; 
in these the above difficulty is not encountered in so 
aggravated a form. 

8. Stress is rightly laid upon ear training as a branch 

of musical instruction. The ability to sing 
Ear Training, , . , . -, j 

any note asked tor is obviously bound up 

\\ith the power of recognising this note when sung by 

1 Kiyltticn Easy Two-Part Songs (Novello) is specially recom- 
niend^d from the standpoint of moderate compass in both parts. 


another. However, it is a mistake to relegate this training 
to a special part of the lesson it can be more profitably 
introduced during the course of the lesson. Ear training 
should not be restricted to the pitch of notes; rhythms 
should occasionally be written down by the class when 
sung or nipped out by the teacher. This should go pari 
i with the reading of rhythms from the blackboard. 
Tin- children may well be invited to invent rhvtlmis for 
themselves, and the teacher can clothe these with melody 
and have them sung by the class. 

9. This chapter is not intended for teachers of solo- 
:, therefore the remarks made about 

Voice Training. . . 

voice training must be or a general nature. 

The demands made by other subjects upon school time 
do not permit of special lessons in voice training, so that 
this must be taught to a certain extent incidentally. 
Every music lesson should in itself be a lesson in voice 
training, that is. the exercises as well as the songs must be 
sunu r artistically, not merely'correctly. 

The one essential of good tone production is control of 
the l.reath. This, in a vocal sense, is not usually acquired 
naturally. In ordinary life we seldom or never fill our 
lungs to their utmost capacity, and the emission of breath 
is generally a passive act we do not consciously control 
it. If we do so, it is usually by closing the throat. 
Now thi> pp dare is fatal to good singing. We must 
habitually fill our lungs thoroughly, and we must acquire 

ct control over exhalation by means of the muse I. 

the ribf; tint is. the emission must be the result of the 
collapse of the ribs, and the rate of collapse must he under 


A correct method ..f luvulhinu- Ix-in^ once assured, little 
farther trouble \\ill I" 1 e\p. -riencrd \\\ the production of 

tone. Fortunately, there is little dilliciilty in 


acquiring control of the breath, if the following exercises 
are done regularly, so that the right method of breathing 
becomes a habit. They should be performed at the as- 
sembly of the school. Three minutes at every meeting 
spent upon these exercises will be ample time to devote to 
the subject, and the result will benefit the pupils physio- 
logically as well as musically. 

Exercise I The teacher counts one, two, during which 

the class slowly takes a full breath by ex- 
Inhalation. _. ., . . ,, 
pandmg the lower ribs, not by raising the 

shoulders. This breath is retained without stiffening the 
throat while three, four, five, six are counted; then the 
breath is suddenly expelled. (To be repeated three times.) 

Exercise II The teacher counts one, two, as before, but 
after holding the breath for two more seconds the pupils 
endeavour to take in a little more breath, which is ex- 
pelled after being retained for two or three more seconds. 
(Repeat three times.) 

Exercise I Breath to be taken as in Ex. I above, but 

it is to be expelled very slowly immediately 

after the lungs have been filled. There will 

be a danger at first of the breath escaping rapidly ; this 

must be checked by resisting the natural tendency of the 

rils to collapse, not by closing the throat. (Repeat this 

exercise three times.) 

Exercise II Breath to be taken as before, but it is to 
be held for two seconds before expiration begins, and care 
must be taken lest at the beginning of expiration the breath 
is inordinately wasted. 

It is obvious that a correct posture of the body during 

breathing exercises and vocal practice gener- 

Posture of allv ig of i m p Or tance. The head must be 

comfortably poised on the shoulders, so that 

no rigidity of the muscles takes place. The root of the 


must not be stiffened, nor must it be humped so as 
to stop the free egress of tone from the larynx. The teeth 
should be kept well apart whilst emitting tone, 1 but the 
lo\\vr jaw must not be stiffened ; in fact, a ' floating ' jaw 
is oiH- of ilu- marks of a good vocalist. The position of the 
lips depends upon the vowel sung, but it may be remarked 
generally that English people do not make nearly enough 
use of the muscles of their lips. They forget that each 
vowel requires a distinctive position of the lips, which 
should be protruded for oo and drawn back for ai. To 
demonstrate this to the class, let the teacher tell the class 
to sing oo, oh, ///, "//. >ii, re on one note and to try to feel 
the different positions of the lips. 

Even although the breathing and bodily attitude may be 
correct, it is still possible to produce sounds 
Quahty 01 Q un pi easail t quality. This will be the case 

if there is any forcing of the voice ; that is, 
if any attempt be made to produce a note more loudly than 
is consistent with the stage of voice development reached. 
As a matter of experience it is found that nearly every 
child can produce tone of good quality provided it is soft ; 
loud tones may or may not he pleasant, more often they 
are not. Hence t lie rule that class sinking should normally 
U- >o|'t : in fact, exercises should invariably be sung 

Tin- voices of boys 2 are especially troublesome. Tin* 

- within their compass are produced in two different 

ways; the highest notes have a quality, and are produced 

foot ' .m Ke emitted II]MIM vowels alone. When the tcrth in 
GloOCtl to fonn dental < M.-.n;mts they should IM- n|>riie<l .1. 

* CaHC8 frequently c,eeur when bog t'K.ik' \ )'. ! M -lion] 

lit".' teimm.lte-. \.i l,,,y in t|,i* c. ,| K 1 1 1 ji Ml -llollM In- allou, -I f.. 
! iMfl-HitlgilljL'. h-ilin "liiy result. 


by a mechanism entirely different from that of the lowest 
notes. It so happens that the middle notes can be pro- 
duced with either mechanism, and the general tendency is 
to produce them with the mechanism used for the lower 
notes, with the result that the higher in the scale the voice 
ascends the harsher and more strident the notes become. 
Technically, these two mechanisms are called the ' chest ' 
(this is the ordinary speaking- voice) and the ' head ' regis- 
ter. The great aim of every teacher of boys should be to 
secure that the middle notes are sung in the head and not 
in the chest voice. Scales sung downwards on the vowel 
' oo ' have been found most effective for this purpose. The 
upper notes of the boy's voice are naturally of good quality, 
and the lowest are not unpleasant provided that an en- 
deavour is made to get a full, round tone without the 
slightest suspicion of forcing. 

In the case of girls the difference between chest and 
head register is not so marked. Generally speaking, the 
notes above F (first space, treble staff) should be sung in 
the head register. Children need not be told about the 
registers, but it is essential that they should be able to 
discriminate between harsh and pleasant tones. 1 It is a 
good plan to take one or two pupils who produce their 
voices correctly and to instruct the class to imitate the tone 
these produce as nearly as possible. If each individual 
member of the class be instructed to sing the same note in 
turn the others will at once appreciate the difference be- 
tween tones of pleasing and unpleasing quality. 

1 The singer himself is not a good judge of the quality of the tone 
he produces. It is never the same to him as to his audience. To 
him the lone is modified by the resonance of the cavities of the 
skull and by the immediate contact of the sound with the seat of 
the perceptive faculty. A practised singer tries rather to feel the 
sound than to listen to it. 


While soft singing should be the norin:il standard of 
ton,-, it is not at all impossible after diligent practice for a 
class to produce a good/orte. The best way to attain this 
end is to sing such exorcises as 

^ P " 

^ / => 

ah ... 

The crescendo must be gradual. 

It does not lie within the scope of this chapter to give a 
complete series of voice-training exercises; these will be 
found in anv text-book of vocal music. They should at 
tirst 1.,- sung to the open vowels; then words containing 
these vowels should be employed. 

It must be remembered that such exercises are tiring and 
seldom interesting, therefore they should be taken at the 
beginning of the lesson and should occupy only a very few 
minutes, for incidentally voice training goes on all through 
tin- music lesson. 

Provided that the breathing exercises are practised at the 
..pen'mgnf school, as recommended, the music lesson should 
n|M-n \\ith the sin-inu f a few isolated notes held steadily 
for several seconds. Then should follow some scales /,,/,,/, 
and then an "//".'/:/''" sung first >7</<v,//,, and then /><j<i/<i. 
should take about live minutes, and another two or 
three minutes should be given to an exercise on wide skips 
to increase the flexibility of the voice. Some ingenuity 
should be expended by the teacher in devising variations 
on these exercises, be ; ,riii4 in mind what has been said 
upon the essentially uninteresting character of these 

ie, teacher should not forbear to give .nnenda- 

tion when the exercises are ungexe'|.tion;.ll\ \\eil ; n | lt x 


already been remarked that singers do not always know 
whether the tones they produce are as pleasant to the 
listener as they are to the performer. 

10. In laying stress on the subject of quality of tone 
the teacher must not overlook the importance 
Sin in m ^ secur ^ n S distinct utterance of the words. 

The two points are by no means antagonistic ; 
they are indeed complementary. The faults which produce 
l>;i'l enunciation of words will also cause bad tone. There 
is hardly a single vowel or combination of vowels in the 
English language with which a satisfactory tone cannot be 
combined. The vowels ni and ee are the most awkward to 
dral with, and a very slight modification of these obviates 
tli<- difficult v. This question really belongs to the art 
of elocution and cannot be treated in detail here. 
Some points, however, stand out as pre-eminently im- 

(a) All musical tone must be associated with a vowel 
sound the true consonants are not, strictly speaking, 
sounds at all, but only the beginnings or cessations of 
sound in particular ways. Such semi-consonants as s, sh, 
/, and / must be remarked in this connection. These 
sounds must l>e momentary only that is, we must get 
rid of them with the greatest possible celerity and proceed 
to the vowel following. 

(6) Consonants must be very distinctly pronounced. It 
is rather the consonants than the vowels which define the 
word to the listener, especially if the word is associated 
with a long note. 

(c) The whole word must be more clearly pronounced 
than in speaking, even to the point of appearing like 
exaggeration to the singer. The music tends to distract 
the attention from the words, hence these must be forced 
upon the hearer wilh extra emphasis. 


('/) The English language is not phonetic; the spelling 
uuide to the actual vowel sounds. For example, take 
the line 

" I mourn no more the Vanished years." 

The sounds upon which the music is made are ak+li, aWj 

i< -f ?, a, 1, ee. 

A very iiM-i'ul e\eivi>e is occasionally to take the words 
.10 ol' tlu- school solids, and make the class distil the 
true vowel sounds as exemplified above. 

11. it has already been intimated that the accomplish- 
ment of reading from musical notes, although 
Mifsica? Notes extlv!m 'b r valuable, must not monopolise tli-- 
whole of the music lesson, although those 
n>il)le for framing many syllabuses seem to think 
that it should do so. Music existed before musical nota- 
tion, aii'l would still be a vital force in the world of Art 
in> of notation banished. Still, the reading 
of m i>viously of great importance, and the subject 

must be attacked and mastered during school life or it will 

i'lvheiided at all. 

The systems of musical notation are many, but two 
only are worth consideration: the 'Old 

Systems of Notation ' and ' Tonic Sol- Fa.' There would 

Musical .. . , 

Notation. ** no profit in continuing here the long con- 

troversy which has been waged over their 
respective nn i 

-rtain point is simplicity itself, 

and some excellent results have accrued from its adoption ; 
on t!i. other hand, it has not superseded the older system, 
and, if it 18 safe to |>rj,he>y, it jn-oba-bly will never do SO. 
It is imp: ru mental music, and, considering 

that vocalists are so ol't-n in>tniiiir]ilai ,.!!. it is 

unreasonable to expect both systems to be learnt, ah h 

PR. TG. 14 


I > v far the best results are obtained from the use of the 
Sol-Fa principles applied to the Old Notation. 

The Old Notation bristles with anomalies due to the 
fact that it is the result of some centuries of growth ; so 
does English spelling, which does not look as if it would be 
superseded just yet by a phonetic system. 

Meanwhile, the teacher who wishes to equip his pupils 
most thoroughly for future musical life will probably adopt 
the combined system known as the ' Movable Doh,' avail- 
ing himself of the excellent advice given in the many 
useful text-books issued by the Tonic Sol-Fa-ists, whoso 
investigations into the subject of teaching vocal music are 
exhaustive, and, within their limits, trustworthy. Many ex- 
perienced teachers find it best to use Sol-Fa entirely in the 
lower divisions, gradually combining the two systems later; 
others prefer to adopt the 'Movable Doh' at the very 
outset. It is not a matter upon which to dogmatise : both 
courses have their able advocates. 

Difficulties of notation fall broadly into two categories 
difficulties of rhythm and difficulties of tune. 
^Notation These difficulties are dealt with seriatim by 
the authors of multitudinous good text- 
books, so that a few general remarks only will be offered 

(a) A protest must be made against the unmusical 
puzzles which are too often proposed to children for 
solution. The so-called ' Time- tests,' much beloved by 
unimaginative teachers and even inspectors, bear about as 
much relation to music as they do to geometry. The best 
time-tests are those found by the teacher himself in the 
works of the great masters of music ; there are thousands 
of such tests lying ready to hand. 

(7>) The same consideration applies to ' Tune-tests.' 
The aimless meanderings of some of the so-called melodies 


M-i for fcestfl in tune are devoid of any thing approaching 
charm >r even interest. Whereas, if the teacher takes 
some of the phrases from, say, Schubert's songs, the result 
\\ill 1 *.' pleasant and profitable. For modulator exercises 
nothing is better than a well-known tune; the desired link 
between sound and symbol is then already partly forged. 
1 The personal demeanour of the teacher is, as every- 
one knows, a great factor in the success or 
failure of his teaching. In the music lesson 
is a special instance of this. When the words and 
tune of a song have been mastered there is still something 
wanting to secure a good rendering. It may be called 
* expresMon ' or anything else ; it is difficult to define. 

^ood soloist ' feels ' his song, and by a selective use 

of the many 'tricks of the trade' which he has learnt by 

" he contrives to arouse the same emotions in his 

aulience. But no two singers 'feel' quite alike in this 

respect, and herein lies the difference between solo ami 

In what we have called the 'recreative' 

- indi\ iduulity should not be repressed, but in the 

more important, son^s it is necessary to secure unanimity 

of sentiment. In fact, the sentiment infused should l>e the 

actor's own; lie plays upon the voices of his class. 

which h,- instrument. This he 

. .r. r.iiher, should do, by suitable . . but 

good eoiidiietin^ i> >eld mi seen in primary schools. A 

few remarks may le useful: 

(a) Every gesture sho uL! mere postur- 

lii'licrous and 0* 
i The same gesture sliMiiM always indicate the same 


(c) The gesture! should lecl-arly seen by t he class, but 

as far as possible screened from -ver\one <!>.>. 

.'lid l>c -racrful. If a leather 


occasionally to practise these gestures before a mirror he 
would possibly be saved from making himself ridiculous in 
public. Few realise how absurd some of their bodily 
postures are until they have seen them as others do. 

(e) The class must be immediately responsive to tin- 
slightest indication on the part of the conductor. To keep 
the class on the alert the teacher should occasionally vary 
t IK- rendering of a song. 

(/) Conducting should enhance the rendering if it 
does not, it is superfluous. 

13. In teaching a new song from notes, the class will 

have a copy of the music and words, or these 

from^otes mav ^ written ou the blackboard. The 
rhythm will be attacked first, any difficult 
groups being isolated and analysed. Incidentally it may 
be remarked that the French time-names employed in ih<> 
Tonic Sol-Fa system should invariably be used, whether 
that system be adopted in its entirety or not. There is no 
doubt as to their excellence. Next, any difficult melodic 
intervals will be isolated and sung from the modulator. 
Then the tune itself will be pointed with its proper 
rhythm on the modulator and sung to the notes, phrase by 
phrase. The next step is to have the tune sung from the 
copy, using such syllables as loo, lah, etc. 

The words will then be studied, being slowly read 
aloud three or four times. The music and words will 
then be conjoined, no notice being taken at this stage of 
expression marks. These will be observed when all other 
difficulties have been surmounted. 

14. The music lesson is perhaps the one opportunity for 

relaxing, in a certain sense, the rigid bonds 
Musi? Lesson * ^ discipline. Of course, during the period 

devoted to modulator and other exercises the 
ordinary strict discipline must be maintained, but in that 


part of the lesson given up to songs a little more ' free 
ami easy ' atmosphere may prevail. The pupils may be 
iruunl to choose their own songs and to offer sugges- 
tions for their better rendering ; generally speaking, the 
teacher and children may co-operate on more equal terms 
than is dosirable at other times. 

15. In these days of school visits to museums, a plea 

might be entered for an occasional visit of 

Coiicerts a mus ^ c c ^ ass to a good concert. School 

children as a rule seldom get the opportunity 
<>t' 1 MM ring better music than they themselves produce; 
hence they have no standard of excellence by which they 
can measure their own performance. If a teacher is 
fortunate enough to be able to arrange for such a visit, he 
should give his class beforehand a preliminary explana- 
tion of the chief features of the programme, otherwise the 
u n familiarity of the whole performance will engender a feel- 
ing of wonderment rather than one of unalloyed pleasure. 

16. We will conclude by giving the outline of a 

suitable course in music for the primary 
in Music^ ' 8cno l- This course assumes that the 

' Movable Doh ' system is adopted. It will 
also serve, mutatis mitf'unli*, if either the Staff or th 
Sol-Fa system be exclusively adhered to. 


(i) Breathing exercises. 1 

The notes of the major scale to be taken consecu- 

lively aii'l th-n in short phrases: i.e. tin- 
scale drmfsltd 1 is first to be learnt l.\ 
ear, then sho\\n on the modulator. Th.-ii short phrases 
M ! / ///. .< / / ./ ,;uv lo brtak'-n. upwards ami down- 
wards. No ski]- t< !.. ;.:! . n nt this stage. 


(iii) Ear exercises founded on the above, 
(iv) The notes of the common chord d m s d ] to be learnt 
after the work indicated in (ii) has been mastered. This 

chord should be taught thus : d r m, d m (several times) ; 

then d r mf 8, d s ; and so on. 

Some teachers make the mistake of taking this chord 
l)efore the notes of the scale ; this is wrong, because nearly 
every child will have heard the scale frequently outside th< 
school, whereas the arpeggio is not likely to be at all 
familiar. The exercises should be varied as far as possible, 
and rhythm introduced into them as soon as opportunity 
offers. Monotony in the exercises is more difficult to guard 
; ma i nst at this stage than at any time. 

(v) Ear exercises founded on this chord. 

(vi) Simple rhythms of two or three-pulse measure 
/2 3 \ 
( 4 or 4 time j not containing subdivided beats. The class 

should invariably beat time while singing these rhythms 
and the first beat of every bar should be strongly accented. 
The exercises should at first be sung to the time-names, 
afterwards to one syllable as doh. Occasionally short 
sentences may be fitted to the rhythms, e.g. 

II! J JlJl J J U II 

Ncl - ly Bligh caught a fly 

Every rhythm when learnt should be clothed with a simple 
melodic outline. 

(vii) Meaning of the terms p, /, mf. 

(viii) Songs. In the first and second years these should 
be learnt by ear, but there is no reason why the easier 
phrases should not be analysed by the class and used as 
ear or modulator tests. The songs chosen should be of 
simple melodic and rhythmic outline and of moderate 


compass. The words should be selected with care, regard 
being paid to the limited comprehension of children of this 
age. Nursery rhymes are excellent for the purpose : 
musically, the old tunes are of a high order of merit, and 
do not require an accompaniment. Moreover, they form 
excellent melodies for use during musical drill. There 
is nothing better than musical drill to foster a sense of 
rhythm. Action songs are also commendable. 


Many of the remarks made upon the first year's course 
are applicable here e.g. it will be assumed 
that breathing exercises will lx) continual 
throughout the whole period of the child's school life. 

(i) The Major Scale, including easy intervals of a third, 
and leaps to the key-note from any other note of the scale. 
These intervals should l>e taught by the same method as 
that suggested above. Thus, d r mf; dj. The compass 
in ay be increased so as to include l t and m l . 

(ii) Ear exercises as before. 

( iii ) Rhythmic exercises as in the first year's course, but 

including , time and containing sub-divisions of either of 

tin- unaccented beats into halves, and introducing rests of 
one beat. Also simple rhythms are to ln written d<>\vn 
when sung by the teacher. This dictation of rhythm 
be continual in the third and subsequent years' cour> 

(iv) Meaning !' such terms as roll., cresc., dim., etc. 

(v) Unison songs, still of a simple character and learnt 
I'v cur. 

(vij Simple three-part rounds, ii' the class fin. Is n-> 
especial difli'-ulty therein: ,t li.-ru ise these can be post- 
poned until th- third year. 



(i) Major scales beginning on a high or low key-note. 

Introduction of fe and ta. More difficult 
Third Year. . 


(ii) Ear exercises on the above. 

(iii) Simple two-part harmonies founded on the common 
chord of the tonic. 

(iv) Rhythmic exercises comprising more difficult varia- 
tions of the exercises included in the previous year's course, 
and introducing rests of two beats' duration, tied notes, 

and the rhythm J t J* (taa-aatai), which should be taught 
through these stages, J , then I J J , and finally 

P . Pupils should be asked to invent rhythm for 


(v) Meaning of a few more technical terms. 

(vi) Unison songs, the simplest of which should be 
learnt from the notes. The repertoire should be more 
extensive in this and subsequent years. 

(vii) Rounds in three parts. 


(i) Introduction into the major scale of se and re through 
the phrases I se I and m re m. 

The melodic minor scale in simple phrases. 
Modulation into the first sharp key. 
(ii) Ear tests founded on the above, 
(iii) Simple harmonic exercises in three parts, founded 
on the common chords. Each chord to be sung separately 
and considerably prolonged. 


(iv) The rhythmic work of the preceding years with the 

adddition of Q time. Division of the unaccented beats 

23 4 
of M , or . time into thirds (taa-tai-tee) . The rhythms 

should not invariably begin on the first beat of a bar. 

(v) Extension of vocabulary of technical terms. 

(vi) Several unison songs to be learnt as recreation, also 
ji detailed study made of one or two songs of a more coin- 
haracter in two parts. 

(vii) Rounds in three parts. 


(i) Introduction of the remaining notes of the chro- 
matic scale. More difficult passages in the 
Fifth Year. 

minor mode. Leaps to not from chro- 
matically altered notes of the major scale. Modulation 
into the first sharp or flat remove. 

(ii) Ear tests founded on the above. 

(iii) More extended harmonic exercises in three parts 
founded on the common chords. A succession of these 
chords to be made into a short phrase. 

(iv) Rhythmic exercises as in previous years, with the 

addition of o time, which should at first be sung slowly 

with six beats in a bar, afterward* as compound time 
(two beats in a bar). The division of a 1>< -at into .|uart-i-s, 
d J -f |. Rests of the duration of 
a half-beat. 

I >h..uH l>e now more extended, say to ei. lit 

bars, and many excellent examples can be found in the 

niiental works of flu- u r n pg. Tin 1 

in each CMS should !>< phi, i- afte* the 

Hi\ tiims have been learnt. 


(v) Songs. Books of words such as Gaudeamus 1 
should be provided and a liberal selection made. The 
tune can be written on the blackboard and learnt there- 
from, without making any detailed analysis. For more 
careful study, three or four good classical songs in two 
parts can be taken. 

(vi) Rounds in three parts. 


(i) A revision of the melodic work of preceding years, 
also the harmonic form (/ se 1} of the minor 
scale. The reading of simple tunes melody 
;ui<l rhythm at first sight. 

(ii) Ear tests as before, and recognition of the intervals 
of the perfect fifth and octave, and of the third and sixth 
when both notes are sounded together. 

(iii) Harmonic exercises as in the fifth year, but with 
phrases more extended. 

(iv) g and g time ; also , 9 an ^ 2 ' ^ ie P U P^ 8 cau ^ 
encouraged to invent simple melodies to the given rhythms, 
always beginning and ending on the key note, and avoiding 
a succession of large skips. More difficult rhythms from 
classical works. The connection between poetical metre 
and musical rhythm to be shown and the class invited to 
invent rhythms corresponding to given poetical metres. 

Two-part varied rhythms sung by the divided class to ^ 

or ir \ I . The writing of rhythms of well-known tunes. 

(v) The meaning of other technical terms, 
(vi) Rounds in three and four parts. 

1 Published by Cassell ft nd Co. 


(vii) A demonstration of the construction of the piano 
and the principles underlying it. 

(viii) More songs from (^nnJ^mmn, with one or two 

V / O 

classical two-part songs. 


(i) Reading exercises as before, with easy examples in 

two parts to be sung at first sight. 
Seventh Year. ,..\ ,..,. , . & , ,, 

(11) Writing down, first in rhythm and 

then completely, the melody of any well-known tune. The 
three duet' chords of the scale to be recognised when played. 
Writing down a short simple melodic phrase as dictated. 

(iii) Harmonic exercises as before, but inclusive of four- 
part chords, which must be chosen with due regard to 

12 6 

(iv) g and ^ time and examples of varied rhythms 

from classical works. Three- part mixed rhythms sung to 

8 f 

. Rests of less than a half-beat, and moiv intricate 

sub-divisions of a l>eat. 

(v) Meaning of tin- remaining technical terms in com - 
iiion use, especially of the 'Sequence.' 

( vi) Some acquaintance can be made with folk-son^ 
the British Isles. Two-par! and perhaps three-part Bonge 
for study from Mendelssohn, Rutonstein, ami <>t! in- 
classical composers. There should now be one or two 
pupils capable of singing a sol. in tin- 'recreative' soi 

MI IN- tlius rnsiiivd l.y adojilin^ the priiu-ipli- >!' 
solo and chorus. 

: .mid- in tlnv" and four p.irts. 

One "i- tw.. ,,bj,'ci l.'^ons on tlu violin and lh. 
hum..!, voice. 



The following books are recommended to the teacher : 

On the Teaching of Music : 

Bates : The Child's Voice 2/- (Xovello). 

Curwen : The Boy's Voice ... ... ... 2/6 (Curwen). 

Hardj^ : Children's Voices ... ... ... I/- (Curwen). 

Behnke : The Human Voice ... ... ... 1/6 (Curwen). 

[A physiological work.] 

Hulbert: Breathing for Voice I 'KM! net ion 2/- (Novello). 

Curwen : Companion for Teachers I/- (Curwen). 

Birch : The Voice Trainer I/- (Curwen). 

Richardson : Choir Training 2/- (Vincent). 

White : Hints to Singers 3d. (Vincent). 

Marshall: Five Minutes' Exercises ... 6d. (Vincent). 

Curwen: How to Read Music ... ... 1/6 (Cur\\-en). 

Somervell : Fifty Step.- in SL'ht Singing ... 2/- (Curwen). 

Shinn : Elementary Kai Training ... ... 2/- (Vincent). 

Board of Education Suggestions : pp. 70- 

73; 127-135 8d. (Wymu.,). 

Collections of School Music 1 : 

iner: School Round Book 8d. (Novello). 

Stanford : National Sung Book 3/- (Boosey). 

[Edition wit h W..rd< an.l Vni.v Tart-, ..nly. I/-.] 

Sawyer : Graded School Song Book ... -2/- (Viii'-rnM. 

Nicholson: British Songs for British Boys (>/. (Macmillun), 

[Edition for 1'uj.ils 1 I; Wovfecaijr, Ud.] 
Baring-Gould and Sharp : Englisli Folk 

Songs for Schools 2/6 (Curwen). 

Hadon : Songs of the British Islands ... 2/6 (Curwen). 
Moffat and Kidson : Children's Songs of 

Long Ago 2/- (Augener). 

Brahms : Nursery Songs 6d. (Novello), 

[Unison : for Junior Classes.] 

Cornelius : Six Christmas Songs 6d. (Novello). 

[Unison: for Senior Classes : accompaniment indispensable.] 

Teachers are advised to subscribe to the School Music Teach' /-and 
Tlt> Herald 

1 This is but a small selection from the availnM<- sour< 



1. IN 1899 a Committee appointed by the American 

Historical Association to investigate the 
State of His- study of history in schools reported that in 
England " the most noticeable features are. 
a lack of historical instruction, a common 
failure to recognise the value of history, and a certain 
incoherence an-1 -viienil confusion." These strictures were 
only too well (l-s, -rved. In the great public schools the 
introduction of history as a definite subject of instruction 
only .lutes Iroin Dr. Arnold's rule at Eugby (1828-1842). 
I.- primary schools history was practically unknown 
before 1875, though here and there a school had, during t he 
i;_ r ht years, taken it, as a ' specific ' subject, with a 
n pupils. In 1875 history was made one of the 
<s ' subjects, on only two of which grants 
I I-* 1 earned; but it was the least favoured among 
subjects. In 1899 the official returns show that even 
of school such subjects only about 25 per rent. 

history, whilst 95 per cent, chose object lessons, 75 
per cent, geography, and 60 per cent, grammar. In the 
i'..llu,viim year history was included in the subjects 
commonly to be taught in primary schools. 

2. ] ;d sketch makes it plain that there is 

much les> tradition almiit the leaching of 

History tll:in tll(>n> is :t])ou1 tlu ' <<>; ' rllil 
most of tin- oilier subjects inclu.le.l in f he 
course of study <>T the priii lias l>.>th it> 


good and its bad sides. On the one hand, teachers are not 
habituated to mechanical methods ; but, on the other hand, 
many teachers are not well qualified by their previous 
study and training to teach a subject requiring much 
special knowledge. In France and Germany history is 
taught by teachers who have been specially prepared for 
the work, and it would be well if this plan were adopted 
in England. Still, history is not a subject requiring such 
special natural gifts as do music and drawing. In it, 
indeed, almost every teacher who makes a serious effort 
may become reasonably proficient. The effort, moreover, 
brings its own reward, for real history has an intrinsic at- 
traction for intelligent minds. It is because many teachers 
know history only in the guise of an inferior school 
text-book that the subject has no attraction for them, 
and consequently is abhorred by their pupils. For in 
history, even more than in most subjects, the first essen- 
tial is a well prepared and stimulating teacher. It is not 
encyclopaedic knowledge that is required, but a sure and 
intelligent grasp of, and an insight into, the meaning of great 
movements, and enough knowledge of detail to be able 
to make those movements real to the imagination both of 
himself and of his pupils. In the next place, sanity and 
impartiality of judgment are essentials, the result of 
practice in weighing evidence and comparing authorities. 
Add to this the power of raising interest and enthusiasm 
by striking and vivid narrative and skilful questioning, 
and finally, such a knowledge of books and of the best ways 
of using them as will enable him to train his pupils in 
profitable reading for themselves. 

As the last two powers are general requirements for 
fruitful school work, it will be sufficient if we say a few 
words on the first two, which are more specifically con- 
nected with history. The teacher, then, who knows little 


historv cannot prepare for his history teaching all at once. 
He must read real hooks, and such reading takes time. So 
he will attempt at first to make himself proficient in a few 

i, and will increase the number year by year. 
After assimilating a good general history of Europe, 
and such an account of the history of his own country as 
is contained in Green's Short History of the English Peujrfi; 
lie should undertake the intensive study of some one 
period, selecting that which most appeals to him. On this 
he should read the best book that has been written, a book 
which is at once history and literature. When this has 
been mastered he should study other writers who deal 
with the same movement from other standpoints, and 
compare and weigh the more or less differing opinions. 
Thus he will learn that real history is not a mere record of 
events, but an insight which pierces through the facts to 
the spiritual forces which alone give them significance, and 
that the teaching of history implies a power of leading 
others to share in this insight. He should then read at 
least one good book on every period he is going to teach. 
Wherever it is possible, the teacher of history should 

upt some piece of independent work, to bring home 
to him ni'Te clearly what history really means and how 
lii>t..ri.-ul knowledge i- developed. Most profitably ma v he 
work out some points of local history, which will alwu\> 

colour and interest to his touching. To focus the re- 
ot his study he will do well to write careful di: 
in a series of note-books. 

By such a course of study a teacher will fit himself by 
knowledge to teach history and will have done much to 

: his own judgment. But not all the knowledge he 
acquires will ! .t diiv.-i s<-r\iv in his teaching. No edu- hcn-sy is more deadly than that the teacher need 
-nly the same things, or the same kind of things, 


that IK- teaches. The true teacher must know much that 
he does nut teach ; only so can be wisely select what to 
teach, and having selected it, make it live in the minds 
of his pupils. As he gets a living idea of a topic, he will 
Select what he shall teach about that topic. He will do 
well to write full and well arranged outlines of the matter 
he chooses, on the right-hand pages of a manuscript book, 
giving exact references to the books from which it is 
drawn. On the left-hand pa^es he should add from time 
to time notes suggested both by further reading and by 
Ilie actual giving of the lessons. In all subjects this plan 
is helpful and is some safeguard against a yearly deteriora- 
tion of a set of lessons from living forces to dead and 
dry forms. But in no subject is it more important than in 
history, where the first preparation of every good lesson is 
a work occupying considerable time. 

We have put this consideration of the essential qualifi- 
cations of a teacher of history in the foreground of our 
di.-fiis>i')ii lieciius-.', unless they are secured, the teaching of 
the subject cannot be really successful. It is often said 
that children dislike history, and, indeed, they* would be 
either more or less than human if they did not dislike 
what too often goes under its name in schools. But 
when taught by a sympathetic and competent teacher 
history is always popular with the pupils. The fault is 
never in the subject, but always in the teacher. All children 
like to hear stories about the deeds of other human beings, 
and after the first few years of life they prefer true stories 
to fiction. Moreover, they are deeply interested in learn- 
ing how things came to be what they are. In no subject, 
indeed, is it more possible to rouse a living interest that will 
persist long after school-days are over, and so continue not 
only to be a means for the rational employment of leisure, 
but an enduring formative influence on thought and life. 


3. What function, then, should the study of history 

fulfil in life ? History is said by Stub! >s t < > 

Function of i^ .. t i u , k n <^vled-e of the advent ures, the 

the Study of , , .11 c i ^ j 

History. development, the cliangeiul career, the varied 

growths, the ambitions, aspirations, and, if 
you like, the approximating destinies of mankind." 1 The 
result of the study of the great world movements of the 
past should be to give an insight which cannot otherwise 
l>e attained into the conditions of society at the present. 
Thus, the study of history should help the individual to 
understand the human world in which he lives so far as it 
is organised into states and smaller, but in some respects 
similar, corporations. But of this world the individual 
forms a constituent part, and he is what he is through his 
relations to the rest of society. Hence, in understanding 
society he understands himself more fully, .and gains in- 
creased power of directing his own life. In other words his 
power of judging wisely in the actual situations of life 
is trained, and at the same time made surer, by the clearer 
apprehension of the meaning of the facts on which it is to 
be exercised. So Stubbs tells us : "If the study of history 
can really he made an educational implement in schools, it 
will raise uj> a - -in -ration who not only will know how to 
vote, but will bring a judgment, prepared, trained, and in 

,vn sj >h ere exercised and developed, to help them in all 
tin- great affairs of life." 2 

Of course, mere knowledge of past events will not do this. 

>ry must be made a reality, a study of the actions and 

m< .lives of real men and women and of real human societies. 

And it must l)e brought up to our own time if the pupils 

are to feel that " in modern history . . . your field of exami- 

the living, working, thinking, growing world of 

"/ M<l' rn ///>/. ////. | 

;.|. IJO-l, 


to-day. . . . Modern history is the history of ourselves, of the 
way in which we came to be what we are, of the education 
of our nation, of the development of our government, of the 
fortunes of our fathers, that caused us to be taught and 
governed and placed as we are, and formed our minds and 
habits by that teaching, government, and position." 1 When 
a living knowledge of the origin and mode of growth of in- 
stitutions is thus attained, the student has at least one 
essential requisite for forming a judgment as to the kind 
of change that is desirable, and has some qualification for 
estimating the probable consequences of proposed lines of 
policy. For to change an institution wisely demands a 
knowledge of its nature, the roots of which are in the past, 
and which has gradually changed and developed to its pre- 
sent form with the lapse of time. 

It is seen, then, that the study of history should serve 
the very practical end of developing both knowledge and 
judgment in the conduct of social and public life no small 
thing in a democratic State. It thus has both an ethi<-;il 
and a patriotic influence. But the direct purpose of the 
teacher should not be to inculcate either private morals or 
patriotism, for to do either with effect frequently demands 
a distortion of the facts, and the very first moral lesson 
derived from history should be a love of truth. " I think," 
says Dr. Stubbs, " that there are few lessons more neces- 
sary for men to learn, not merely who are going to take to 
public life, but who are going to live and move as men 
among their fellows, than these : that there are few ques- 
tions on which as much may not be said on one side as on 
the other : that there are none at all on which all the good 
are on one side, all the bad on the other, or all the wise on 
one and all the fools on the other : ... to learn that simple 
assertion however reiterated can never make proof : . . . 
1 Stubbs, op. cit., pp 16, 18, 


above all, that no material success, no energy of develop- 
ment, no eventual progress or consolidation, can atone for 
the mischief done by one act of falsehood, treachery or 
cruelty." 1 

Moral judgments are most effectively and easily passed 
on the conduct of individuals, and this is most surely 
examined iii fiction or in biography. In history we are 
interested in individuals only so far as they express or in- 
fluence their age; the real objects of our study are not 
individual lives, but the general tendencies of life, and the 
ideas which find expression in world movements. In these 
the individual, leader though he may be, is typical and 
representative, and not infrequently sees but imperfectly 
the tendency of his own actions. The judgment of pos- 
terity on the value of great movements to the life of the 
world <r of the nation is frequently different from that of 
the actors in those movements. Hence it is that "history 

;-y impatient of direct morals. Its teaching is to be 
found in largo tendencies." 2 

But it is often urged, especially in Germany, that if the 
function of the teaching of history is not directly to incul- 

'ii'.ral lessons, it should, nevertheless, definitely address 
itself t. the development of patriotism. But when this is 
mad.- the direct aim there is great danger lest the patriot ism 

that spurious typo which consists in upholding as right 
and just all the native country has done in the past or is 
proposing to do in the present, and which manifests itself 
mainly in shout in-.: and in other forms of publicly adver- 
tising the feelings. There has been much to be regretted 
in the past history of every nation, and true patriotism 
does not consist in ignoring this, or in distorting the facts 
BO as to make the worse appear the better cause, but in 
1 Op. 

* Cn-1-ht..n, // 


endeavouring to discover the noblest ideas which have been 
operative in the national life and to promote the future 
dominance of such ideas. The true patriot is he who does 
his duty manfully in both the public and the private rela- 
tions of life, not he who most persistently blows the 
trumpet of self-glorification or beats the drum of ostenta- 
tious advertisement. 

That the study of such a past history as that of our 
own country will tend to develop this true patriotism 
is doubtless true, for, as Lord Avebury says : " If ever 
there was a country for which a man might work 
with pride, surely it is our own. ... In our history there 
has, no doubt, been much to regret. But yet, as con- 
trasted with that of other nations, it has been compara- 
tivcly bloodless. ... When, indeed, we look back on the 
whole history of the past, it is not, I think, too much t< 
say that our country has exercised its great trust in a wise 
and liberal spirit." 1 That such a true patriotism a love 
of country which is not a mere foolish partiality, blind to 
all faults in its idol, but a rational recognition that, on the 
whole, the good elements predominate and that it is the 
part of all true citizens to help to right the wrongs in 
national life, not to deny their existence is worthy of 
cultivation all must acknowledge. It is based on justice, 
not on narrow prejudice; it recognises the rights of 
other nations, and may impel a man to resist a general 
popular movement when he believes it to be repugnant to 
the highest ideals and best interests of his country. Such 
a true patriotism can only be the outcome of a study of 
history which aims solely at reaching the truth about 
events, of understanding the tendencies of which those 
events were signs, and of estimating the value of 
those tendencies. " The real imperial spirit," says Lord 
1 The Use of Life, Chap. X. 


Avebury, " is not one of vainglory, but of just pride in the 
extension of our language and literature; of our people, 
and >ur commerce, on land and sea; and a deep sense of 
the great responsibility thus imposed upon us." 1 

We anive. then, with MM. Langlois and Seignobos when 
they write: "We no longer go to history for lessons in 
iii'-rals. nor for good examples of conduct, nor yet for 
dramatic or picturesque scenes. We understand that for 
all these purposes legend would be preferable to history, 
I'm- it presents a chain of causes and effects more in accord- 
unee with our ideas of justice, more perfect and heroic 
characters, finer and more affecting scenes. Nor do we 
to use history, as is done in Germany, for the purpose 
of promoting patriotism and loyalty ; we feel that it would 
l>o i!lo^u-al for different persons to draw opposite con- 
clusions from the same science according to their country 
or party ; it would be an invitation to every people to 
mutilate, if not to alter, history in the direction of its 
pivter.-n. B. We understand that the value of every 
:ice consists in its being true, and we ask from history 
truth and n. -thing more." 2 

But though we seek directly neither to teach morals 
nor to inculcate patriotism, vet \ve may look, as has been 
. n. for jin effect on life in the direction both of morality 
aii.l of patriotism. The point is that such an effect should 
come as an indirect result, that it should not, by being 
made the dominating purpose, decide what shall be taught 
and the IL'ht in which it shall be presented. 

The whole discussion ma y l><- summed up in the words 
of M. Lavisse. simply substituting ' Kngland ' ami ' Kng- 
lishman md l-'iviu-liman.' lie says: "To 

give tin- pupil an exact idea of the successive civilisations 

s /. :::il. 


of the world and definite knowledge of the formation and 
growth of France ; to show him the action of the world on 
our country and of our country on the world ; to teach him 
to render to all peoples their just dues, to widen the horizon 
of his mind, and finally to leave him in possession not only 
of an understanding of the present condition of his country 
and of the world, but also of a clear notion of his duties as 
a Frenchman and as a man such is the function of his- 
tory in education." 1 

4. To grasp the true nature of history and the influence 
it exercises on life is to recognise that its 

Place of History 8 t u dy requires a certain development both 

in the Primary . 

School. * expenence and ot mental power. Into 

the deeper and broader problems of history, 
indeed, the primary school can at no time pretend to enter. 
But it should treat the history it does teach in such a way 
as to form a permanent tendency to pursue the study on 
the lines we have indicated. This planting and early nur- 
ture of a genuine interest in history, and not the memo- 
rising of numerous statements of fact, is the true aim of 
the teaching. But this treatment cannot profitably be 
begun until the pupil is sufficiently mature to have some 
power of estimating the lapse of time, a fair general know- 
ledge of the meaning of geography, and a sufficiency of the 
kind of matt-rial which he must re-arrange in his imagi- 
nation in order that the past may be a living reality to 
him and not a mere set of empty phrases. Such maturity 
is not reached before about the twelfth year of age. 
Consequently, the real study of history will not begin 
before the fifth year in the senior school. In the earlier 
years the teacher should simply attempt to prepare the 
way by broadening the outlook of the children on life 

1 A propos de nos Scales, p. 81. 


through story growing more and more of the nature of 

5. During the first two years of school life this work will 
be merged in literature, which amongst its 
'""terial w^ 11 include myth and legend culled 
from all countries and all tribes, and largely 
chosen on the basis of clearness of revelation of the life of 
motive and the results of simple virtues and vices. Such 
st<>r the children's fancy, and at the same time 

furnish the simplest material for the general attempts of 
the y.umg mind to find a connection in life. The lesson 
for life should not be elaborated or insisted on; it should 
be felt rather than formulated, though a spontaneous 
xpression of the feeling need not be checked. There will 
IK- no attempt at locating in time more definite than the 
familiar " Once upon a time." 

In the third school year the preparation for real history 
should gradually become more definite. The 

Guiding obiect is rather to create a taste for history 

Principles of . J . . , . . , J 

Selection. 1na11 to g lve historical knowledge, for unless 

such a taste be developed all future efforts 

will l>e profitless. But at the same time it must be re- 

memU-red that the taste wanted is not a mere desire to be 

amused and ruiei-tained by striking and attractive stories, 

but a living curiosity to know more of persons of whom 

tiling has already been learnt, and of events in which 

they wen- prominent actors. Thus, the selection of stories 

should not l>e determined primarily by the children's 

immediate likings, though the teacher will reject any that 

will not ap|M-al to th'-ir imagination ;l nd sympathy. As 

ippfiih.'im ivmarks: " There is, as a rule, but little 

nice to be put upon a child's natural taste. There is 

no more reason why he should know what is best for his 

intellectual -welfare than that he should spontaneously 


recognise what is his most advantageous food." 1 It is the 
teacher's function to develop and train interests in relation 
to purposes, not to pander to childish caprices which lead 
nowhere beyond themselves. To interest a child in his 
studies is every good teacher's aim, but that is a very 
different thing from allowing the child's various likings to 
decide what he shall learn. The latter, indeed, is the 
surest way of securing that the child will grow up with 
no stable interests and no serious purposes. We try to 
create in him a taste i'>r history Uvause we recognise the 
valuable effect well-studied history may have on his life, 
not because he likes to hear tales, though this natural 
liking gives us our starting-point with him. 

The preparation for history, then, should begin with 
stories, because the young child can be interested in stories 
but cannot be interested in real history, for that he cannot 
understand. But the selection of stories should be de- 
termined by a consideration of the course in history lie is 
to study in his later school years. The stories should aim 
at- making the pupils familiar with the greatest names they 
will meet with in that course, and at giving them general 
ideas of the great deeds with which those names are asso- 
ciated and of the time and place in which those deeds were 
wrought. It is not biography in the proper sense of the 
term for biography treats of the whole life of its subject 
so much as a vivid personal element in the story of great 
events. Only those biographical details should be given 
which bring out the relation of the hero to the events in 
which he played a part. It should be remembered that 
the teaching in this preparatory course is anticipatory of 
that which is to follow, and, consequently, the historical 
aspect must always be emphasised. And for history, as 
has been already pointed out, individuals are important 
1 The Development of the Child, pp. 104-5. 


just in so far as they represent movements of national or 
:ieral human life. 

As the pupils j.ass through the fourth year the relations 
of events in time and place will be more and more empha- 
1. But still the teaching will be essentially the vivid 
narration of great and stirring events, though, as the 
pupils advance in power of imagination and thought, the 
personal element in those events may become less dominant 
than in the earlier stories. The course may be likened to 
U-ads of "history of various size and brilliancy strung on a 
thin string of time connection; but the string increases 
in thickness and the bsads are more obviously held together 
by it as the course advances towards its end. 

The selection of stories should, then, be determined by 
the course of history which is planned for the fifth and 
following years of school life. The preparatory course 
should develop a living organ of learning a kind of 
nervous system of historical knowledge consisting of nuclei 
of fuller apprehension of important persons and events 
connected by thin fibres of general time and place rela- 

Assuming that the later course follows the general lines 
laid down in the next section, the centres 

"'' tortmction wil1 1>e drawn from Greek. 
Ionian, and general later European history, 

thoii-h special prominence \\ill be given to English to] 

The stirring stories of Thermopylae and Salamis with 

Blowing lessons in true patriotism and undaunted 

-uch heroes of old Greek life as Solon, Leoni<ia->. 

Tli.-iiii-tH-l,.s, and Pericles, set in pictures ..f daily life in 

tin- Greece of their day. the expeditions and victories of 

iid-T, \\ill furnish delightful inst ruet ion to children 

as young as those just entvr ing m their third school 

year, for the life is simple and the human qualities 


emphasised are elementary and such as they can enter 
into with sympathy. 

Then the drama shifts to Rome, and they hear the 
stories of such heroes as Horatius and Cincinnatus, of 
Hannibal and Scipio, of Caesar and Brutus. They will 
see Koine becoming Christian, will trace her civilising 
presence in our own land, and learn about Boadicea and 
Caractacus, Gregory the Great and Augustine. 

Having admired and wondered at Rome in her greatness 
they will watch her fall, hearing of Alaric and Attila and 
the barbarians they led. This will lead to stories of the 
srl t lenient of the English in England, and they will become 
familial- with Egbert and Alfred. They will compare 
Alfred with Charlemagne, and contrast the blessings of 
settled government under them with the anarchy which 
preceded them. They will watch the settlements of the 
Normans in Gaul and of the Danes in England, and will 
become familiar with Rollo and Canute. 

Then they will see England connected with the Continent 
iindrr William, and they will hear of the fateful battle of 

The stories in the next place will be designed to give 
some idea of the two great factors in mediaeval life the 
Church and Feudalism. The pupils will be told of Anselm, 
Thomas of Canterbury, William of Wykeham, of monas- 
teries and friars, of the building of churches and the 
founding of schools. On the other hand they will hear of 
life in castle and camp, of wars between nobles, between 
king and nobles, or between kings and kings, each centred 
round such typical figures as Stephen, John, Edward the 
First, Wallace, Bruce, the Black Prince, Henry the Fifth. 
Thi'y will be taught about Mahomet and the sjpread of 
Mahometanism, to prepare them to go on the Crusades 
with Godfrey of Bouillon and Richard the Lion-hearted, 


ami to understand something of the civilisation of the 
. of which Sala.lin may be taken as the type. In 
Wat Tyler they will see another and a darker side of 

In preparation for the disruption of the mediaeval 
organisation of society they should hear of Caxton ami 
early printing, and of the great discoverers Columbus, 
Vasco la <Jama. Cabot, Balboa, and Magellan, and should 
follow tin-in in their venturous and hazardous voyages, 
tracing their courses on the map. They should go with 
Cortez to Mexico and with Pizarro to Peru, they should 
sail the Spanish Main with Drake and Raleigh. But little 
should ln told them about religious disputes, but they 
must hear something of Wycliffe, Luther, Mary, and 
Philip the Second of Spain. Then they will be ready to 
tiirht with the English in the Armada, and to enter into 
ih' outburst of national life in the time of Elizabeth. 
They will next learn of the Pilgrim Fathers and of the 
_ _:! in England for civil and religious liberty, hearing 
larl.-s the First and Cromwell. Something, too, they 
in ay well kmw of France and Louis the Fourteenth. 

In Clive and Wolfe they will see typified the growth of 

tin- English Empire, whilst 'Washington represents the 

h-avii->t Mow that Empiiv has ever received and the birth 

Bgliih-tpeaking State. They will watch the 

1 death struggle centred round the heroic figures of 

Napoleon, Nelson, and Wellington. 

In the quieter walks of peace they will learn of the 

great inventions ..f tin- la>t crnlury ami a hall', grouping 

tin-in round Wall ami Sli'pli.'iison : they will follow the 

iphical discovery with Cook, Franklin, 

II sliar.- Wilberfon-e's stniu'L:'!' 1 

for tin- abolition of slavery, ami hear something of the 
it on th.- otli.-r M.le of the AtlantK-. 


The general movements of the last century are, however, 
too complicated to be understood by children of this age, 
and the matter appeals but faintly to their imagination 
and- sympathies. Less direct preparation will, therefore, 
be given for the later study of this period than for that of 
earlier times. 

Such a scheme of work is only put forward as a sug- 
gestion and in illustration of the principles 
Teztchin which have been laid down. But when some 

such course is followed by a teacher who is 
reaUj competent in knowledge and stimulating power the 
children at the end of their fourth year are both ready and 
anxious to enter upon the more serious work of the next 

The teaching must, of course, l)e oral, though some 
illustrative reading may be done both by teacher and class. 
The narrative must be made vivid by details which set in 
relief the main points and by pictures illustrating in a 
striking way the events narrated. Dr. Arnold, indeed. 
recommended that the earliest lessons should be based on 
striking and surest ive pictures. These should be in 
colour, and should not be glaringly inaccurate in the 
accessories of dress and surroundings, nor offensive by 
their want of artistic quality. But the main tiling is that 
they should arrest attention and excite curiosity, and this 
stimulating power must not be sacrificed either lor 
archaeological precision or for artistic effect. 

Poetry which bears on any of the topics should be 
freely quoted, read, copied out by the children, and, if it 
appeals strongly to them, learnt by heart. Reading 
books which illustrate past modes of life such as Mr. 
Finnemore's Boys and Girls of Other Days 1 should be 
read. But no attempt should be made at this stage to 
1 Published by Messrs. A. and C. Black. 


t.-a.-h hist. .ry from books or, indeed, to read books which are 
hi>tories in tin* ordinary sense of the term. The real teach- 
ing is hv means of oral lessons, and to that all else is 

The historical stories are, however, not merely to be 
listened to, but to be apprehended and remembered. The 
teacher should, therefore, revise regularly and thoroughly, 
taking care that such revisions are never degraded 
into bald exercises in verbal memory. Let him call 
upon individual children to reproduce orally the whole 
"i- part of a story, to answer questions, to compare one 
story or set of events with another. Let him set topics for 
written exercises, encouraging the children to illustrate 
one story by another, and let him carefully go through 
written exercises with his class. Thus history, 
literature, and language teaching are made to illustrate 
and help each other, and it will be found that two lessons 
a week will be sufficient to give to the telling of historical 

6. When we turn to the course in real history for the 

upper classes we are obviously met by the 
Selection of difficulty of selection of matter. For the 
History" 1 numU-r of facts is practically infinite, and 

1he field is inexhaustible. Happily, most of 
arts, in history as in all other subjects, are in them- 
selves worthless. The only facts we want are those which 
give us power, those we can use. And in historv this 
means the facts which bring home to us, and help us to 
realise, the great movements of the past. 

It is commonly held that in the primary school the 

teat-hinu' must IH> limited to English hist. TV. 

Again <t this view \v- would urge that when 
history is thus r- iish history itself 

H largely unintrlli-iM,.. As well might one try to give 


a comprehensible account of a man's life by ignoring his 
surroundings. How can such a life be understood if we 
know nothing of the people or circumstances which influ- 
ence him, with which he strives, through relation to which 
he is what he is ? And it is the same with the life story of 
a nation. Like the individual its life takes its filling and 
its meaning from its relations with the rest of mankind. 

What understanding can one who knows nothing of the 
Catholic Church have of England in the Middle Ages? 
What meaning can be found in the wars with France or 
Scotland by one who is ignorant of feudal institutions? 
And both the Church and Feudalism bound civilised 
Europe into one organic whole. In later times who can 
find a clue to the wars which fill so much of the seventeenth 
and eighteenth centuries when his outlook is bounded by 
the confines of his own country? And let us remember 
that the unintelligible is devoid of interest. May not 
much of the want of success in exciting the pupils' interest 
which is so often and so truly charged against the teaching 
of history in English schools be due to this very limitation ? 
We firmly believe that it is so. With all the great masters 
of history, then, we would urge that this restriction be not 
attempted. True it is that the emphasis will be laid on 
our own country, that we shall, indeed, teach the history 
of other lauds mainly with the view of making that of our 
own land intelligible, but this intelligibility is not to be 
attained by mere isolated and incidental references to the 
course of national life outside our own land. 

Further, everything which limits one's outlook to 
one's own country tends to promote insularity and that 
false patriotism of which we have spoken. We do not 
think of abstaining from teaching the geography of 
countries other than our own, and yet that outside 
geography is not so essential to the understanding of the 


.ruphyof Englmdas is the history of other nations 
t<> the understanding <>f the liistory of England. Under 
geography is taught intu-h of the present relations of 
England with other lands, but those relations only 
become intelligible when their development has been 

But. it will be urged, you thus make the difficulty of 
ling the matter of instruction immeasurably greater. 
\\'e reply that the difficulty is largely due to a mis- 
apprehension. The common opinion is that school history 
numl>er of facts, chronologically arranged indeed, but 
with no other coherence, which have to be committed to 
memory. There is a traditional mass of matter grouped 
under the successive sovereigns of England which nearly 
school seems to feel itself called upon to teach. By 
i'ar the greater part of this matter should be relegated to 
the dust- heap of history. Let us get rid of what Seeley 
: uly called "our childish mode of arranging history " 

though, indeed, by 'childish' he meant 'foolish,' for no 

child would have invented it let us recognise that the 

m ings and ends of reigns were important, doubtless, 

<<> tin- passing and coming monarchs, but usually had 

little bearing on the course of events or the condition of 

j pl-s. Let us go further and bring home to our minds 

the truth that a knowledge even of the names of many 
past monarchs is of absolutely no use to our pupils. Let 
us determine also that names of battles, marches, and 
count- T- n Miches of armies are frequently of profound 
historical insignificance. Let us, in a word, disregard the 
school tradition which we owe so largely to a discredited 
and largely obsolete kind of examination, and let us 
select our matter in tin- liu'lit of certain broad principles, 
excising without compunction all that \\ill not stand our 


First, then, we will lay down that our pupils' know- 
ledge must be elementary : the teachers 

nave not t " ne nor ^ e P U P^ S maturity for 
more. But we should remember that ' ele- 
mentary ' should mean that which is most fundamental, 
not that which is most insignificant, nor even that which 
is most easy. 

In the next place, the matter must be such as is calcu- 
lated to evoke interest in the pupils. But 
Interest. . ,, * 1 

: i gain the warning must be given not to 

confuse the interesting with the exciting or amusing. 
There is a natural tendency for a teacher to choose the 
most picturesque and stirring incidents for his lessons. 
And this is good as long as 'those incidents are kept to 
their true and subordinate function of making the past 
live in imagination. But if picturesqueness is made the 
main test of suitability the history taught will be of little 
value in training the judgment and in helping the pupils 
to see the connection of cause and effect in human events. 
True interest is an impulse always pressing towards 
satisfaction, yet never satisfied. It strives ever onwards, 
and is rather enhanced than deterred by difficulties. It 
values each step in its progress, not by its amusing or 
pleasing qualities, but by its serviceableness in the attain- 
ment of the end in view. Thus we may say with Seeley : 
"I am often told by those who, like myself, study the 
question how history should be taught, Oh, you must, 
before all things make it interesting ! I agree with them 
in a certain sense, but I give a different sense to the word 
interesting, a sense which after all is the original and 
proper one. By interesting they mean romantic, poetical, 
surprising; I do not try to make history interesting in 
this sense, because I have found that it cannot be done 
without adulterating history and mixing it with falsehood. 


But the won! inU'ivsting does not properly mean romantic. 
That is interesting in the proper sense which affects our 
interests, which closely concerns us and is deeply important 
to us. ... Make history interesting indeed! I cannot 
i iial^e history more interesting than it is, except by falsi- 
fying it. And therefore when I meet a person who does 
nt find history interesting, it does not occur to me to alter 
history, I try to alter him." 1 

That history is interesting in the sense of Seeley's re- 
marks will be apparent to all who have accepted the views 
set forth in this chapter. It only needs to be set forth 
attractively by a competent teacher to excite the interest 
of every normal boy and girl. 

It follows from what has been said that teachers should 
not confine their instruction to facts. Facts, 
Ideas and indeed, are essential, but, to be either 

interesting or instructive, they must be illus- 
trative of life and connected in causal sequence. Children 
wh<> have reached their fifth school year are capable of 
mm] Hiring and generalising when the matter is not too 
complex, they are able to appreciate general tendencies 
though at first this insight fails to find ready expression 
in maxims and formulas. But unless the teacher lias 
plan i i<>d Ins course, chosen and arranged the facts he 
teaches round some few leading ideas whi< h ^ive character 
to the great world tendencies, such tendencies will not be 
seen ly the pupils. Bad teaching or unwise choice or 
arrangement of materials may ol.seure the meaning of 
historical movements even more easily than the opposite 
Utilities .-an thrm. 

What thru are tin- leading principles which should 
determine tin- selection of matter in such a cours.- 

1 T 1 /;//;/// M/, pp. ms-9. 

ro. 1 1 ; 


as can be given during the last two or three years in 
a primary school? We cannot give them better than 
in the words of Mr. Frederic Harrison : " It is possible 
to know something of history without a pedantic 
erudition. Let a man ask himself always what he wants 
to know. Something of man's social nature ; something of 
the growth of civilisation. He needs to understand some- 
thing of the character of the great races and systems of 
mankind. . . . Let him ask himself what the Greeks taught 
or discovered : why the Romans were a noble race, and 
how they printed their footmarks so deeply on the earth. 
Let him ask what was the original meaning and life of 
those great feudal institutions of chivalry and church, of 
which we see only the remnants. Let him ask what was 
the strength, the weakness, and the meaning of the great 
revolution of Cromwell, or the great revolution in France. 
. . . Above all, we must look on history as a whole, 
trying to find what each age and race has contributed to 
the common stock, and how and why each followed in its 
place. . . . The history of the human race is the history 
of a growth. It can no more be taken to pieces than the 
human frame can be taken to pieces. . . . Once feel that 
all the parts are needed for the whole, and the difficulty of 
the mass of material vanishes." l 

The teacher will, then, decide what are the answers to 
such questions, and will choose the material of his teaching 
so as to make those answers clear. Of course, if the 
majority of his pupils leave school at the end of the sixth 
year, he cannot go over the ground so fully as when he can 
spread the teaching over three years. But the difference 
should be in the filling of the scheme, not in its general 

Guided by the main ideas he wishes to impress on his 
1 The Meaning of History, pp. 21-3. 


pupils' iiiin-ls. he will not allow himself to be trammelled 
I'V chronology, lie A\ ill group his teaching round 
topics, though securing that the topics themselves are in 
correct time sequence. He will make his chronological 
divisions themselves at turning-points in history and not 
at mere art iticial points, such as the reigns of momirchs, 
which often, as Seeley says, "create a division where there 
is no division, but rather unusually manifest continuity." 1 
It is obvious that such a course must be laid down in 

its entirety before the teaching is begun. 
Course There is no such thing as living from hand 

to mouth in effective history teaching, though 
unless each lesson be fully and carefully prepared, or a 
former preparation revised just before it is given, the 
teaching will become dull and lifeless. Nor can the teacher 
tind his course ready planned for him in any of the text- 
books. They must be used as his servants, not obeyed 
as hi> maMrrs. It is further plain that the best results 
will be secured only when the same teacher conducts the 
whole course with any one set of pupils, so that the 
>tudy may IM> made to them an uninterrupted develop- 
ment. And. lastly, it is evident that this teacher must 
ithusiastic Loth as a student and as a teacher of 
hi>t<>ry, for whilst no subject is more inspiring and 
valuable when well taught, none is more deadening when 
badly taught. 

7. A scheme drawn up on these principles would take 

up into itself the lessons given in the 

Content prepa rat. <r\ course. The heroes with whom 

of Course. J 

tin- pupils there made acquaintance are now 

seen as leaders and representatives of great movements; 
th- tin- -triu- aiv M,,\V shown as stages and 

epochs in an r. >\\ th. 

1 O>. //., ,. 


There must be division into periods, but the teacher 
should be careful to remember that these 
are made by historians who, in looking back 
over the ages, can see how different modes of thought 
dominated men at different times, and who have, on this 
basis, divided time into epochs in each of which one such 
view of life was prominent. But the life itself flowed on 
continuously, and one period merged into another. As in 
the life of the individual we can mark the successive 
periods of childhood, youth, and manhood, each with its 
own characteristics, yet each fading continuously into the 
other, though at times change is rapid and marked, so 
with the history of civilisation. There are periods often 
long periods when change was comparatively slow; 
tin -re are others in which all the foundations and 
landmarks of life seemed to be siiddenly and violently 
upheaved. Such times of transition and unrest form the 
boundaries between the ancient, the mediaeval, and the 
modern worlds. 

It will be well so to divide the course between the 
years over which it extends that ancient and mediaeval 
history are taken in the first year, and modern hist>i v 
occupies the remainder. If only two years are available, 
the division had better be made at the end of the sixteenth 
century, when the transition period was ending and the 
modern world well begun. If three years can be given, 
the first year's work had better end at the beginning of 
the transition period, about a century earlier, and the last 
two years be left for the mo.lern period, dividing it at 
the point between the establishment of the independence 
of the United States of America and the French Revolu- 
tion. These divisions, however, will be for the teacher's 
guidance. In the actual teaching they should not be 


No real understanding of modern Europe is possible 
without u knowledge of the great heritage to 
civilisation left by ancient Greece and Rome. 
If history teaching is to fulfil its functions it must, there- 
fore, K'gin with the ancient world. No detailed record can 
be attempted, but typical events should illustrate each 
movement and be made to live by full and detailed treat- 
ment, thus bringing home to the minds of the pupils the 
debt of modern Europe to the earlier nations. 

It is true, of course, that history does not begin with 
Greece, but enough can be told of the great nations of 
antiquity Egypt, Assyria, Babylon, and Persia in con- 
nection with the Scripture Lessons. Of these old nations 
1 tontia was the survivor and under Cyrus reached the height 
of its power. Its organisation, its luxury, its mighty 
armies pressing west to conquest must be vividly described. 
Then follows its repulse by the Greeks a people insignifi- 
cant in inim ln?rs in comparison with its Oriental enemy. 
the desire to know more of this wonderful race. 
Tin- u r *o^raphy of Hellas and its influence on the life of its 
inhabitants should be examined. 1 Thus will become plain 
both the elements of disunion due to a country cut up by 
mountain ranges into naturally isolated tracts, and of union 
based on community of religion, customs, and langna^ 1 , 
and kept alive by the largely religious assemblies at the 
national games. The chief cities Athens, Sparta, Corint h, 
Theirs will be spoken of and their characteristic differ- 
ences noted. 

then, is the people which hurled bock the Persians 

i the gate of Europe and saved the Western world from 

mil of thought and L'overnment. The glorious 

battles in winch (Jreecr vindicated her claim to freedom 

il to the Moblrst. feelings of our nature Marathon 

1 See Grotc, History of Greece, Part !!..( li.|. I 


where the Athenians under Miltiades rolled back the first 
flood of invasion sent west by Darius ; Thermopylae, where 
the Spartans under Leonidas won death and immortality 
in arresting the second and greater army under Xerxes ; 
Salamis, where the Athenian fleet under Themistocles 
scattered the armada of the national foe ; Mycale, where 
the Persian power was so broken that it never again dared 
to attack the victorious Greeks. 

The growth in power and glory of Athens and the exten- 
sion of its influence over the islands will then be described : 
its preeminence in all intellectual culture in science, in 
literature, in philosophy, in art, will be insisted on. A 
day's life in the city, with its market-place, schools, gym- 
nasia, and temples, will be pictured and illustrated by views 
of its architecture and sculpture. Contrasted with this will 
be the hard and narrow life of Sparta. Then the inherent 
weakness of Greece will be made manifest by the long war 
which under the rival leaders, Athens and Sparta, divMetl 
the Greek states, and finally ended with the overthrow and 
(lcu r r;idation of Athens. 

The rise of Macedon under Philip and its expansion 
under Alexander will then be shown, the extent of 
Alexander's empire with its dissemination of Greek cul- 
ture examined, and the founding of Alexandria described. 
The disruption of the twenty years old empire immediately 
after the death of its founder will serve still further to 
illustrate the want of practical political aptitude of the 

Such a course of lessons will have made prominent both 
the strength and the weakness of the Greeks their in- 
tellectual greatness and their political instability. As Mr. 
Frederic Harrison says, " The Greeks had created no 
system of law, no political order, no social system. If 
civilisation had stopped there, it would have ended in 


loss agitation, discord, and dissolution. Their 
character was wanting in self-command and tenacity, and 
their genius was too often wasted in intellectual license. 
Yet if politically they were unstable, intellectually they 
were great." l 

The very factors in civilisation wanting in Greece 
were the distinctive features of Rome. The 
origin of the Romans is lost in legend, but 
during the latter of the years which have been described 
iii tln i storv >f Greece the nation was being formed by tin- 
amalgamation of two peoples, one of much intellectual power, 
the other of undaunted courage and iron perseverance. The 
resulting people showed the qualities of both. The gradual 
spread of the power of Koine over Italy during four 
centuries will be very briefly outlined in connection witli 
the geography of the peninsula. 

Then mines the life and death struggles with Carthage, 
lasting with intervals some hundred and twenty years, and 
ending in the final overthrow of Carthage a struggle 
between two nations in marked contrast with each other. 
" On one side was the genius of war, empire, law, and art,, 
on the other the genius of commerce, industry, and wealth. 
The subjects of Carthage were scattered over tin- Mediter- 
ranean, the power of Rome was compact. Carthage fought 
with regular mercenaries, Rome with her disciplined 
iti/ens. Carthage had consummate generals, but Rome 
had matchless soldier The interest centres in the 

second of the three wars, and gathers itself round the 
h- !..] ti'jun-s of Hannibal and Scipio, culminating in the 

nirati. f Carthage by the latter. Thus the Republic 

is 8Wii pushinu' on its e..ii,ju-s1> and through war extrud- 
ing tin- I.K-ssinu's hundred years of 
fi'jht MIL' Roman dominion , -\tended over tin- civilised 



world. Macedon, Spain, Gaul, and Britain were in- 
corporated, and everywhere orderly rule and strict govern- 
ment were established. 

But even during this growth of empire internal dissen- 
sions had been springing up ; patriotism was giving place 
to party spirit ; the constitution suited to a small state 
was found inadequate to a world-wide empire. The need 
for re-organisation had arisen and the genius appeared in 
Julius Caesar, who welded the Empire together by freely 
extending Roman citizenship to natives of the distant 
provinces, thus making Rome itself rather the leader than 
the mistress of distant nations. Though Caesar was 
assassinated by the old aristocratic faction, his work 
remained, and the Empire was firmly established under 
Augustus. Here the results of Roman dominion may be 
reviewed and exemplified by Britain a Roman town ami 
a Roman camp, Roman roads and other evidences of 
Roman civilisation being described and illustrated \>\ 

Next the spread of Christianity within the Empire 
should be traced, the early persecutions and final triumph 
under Constantino. Then should be noted the momentous 
change when Rome ceased to be the imperial dwelling- 
place, and the seat of Empire, after some wanderings, was 
fixed by Constantine at Byzantium, which he enlarged and 
which has ever since been known as Constantinople. 
Thus were sown the seeds of the disruption of the Empire, 
and of the continuous struggles between rival Emperors 
which marked the next century and a half. 

To internal strife was added barbarian invasion, 
culminating in the sack of Rome by Alaric in 410. 
The defeat of Attila, King of the Huns, at Chalons in 
451 must be emphasised, for this, as Freeman says, " was 
one of the most important battles in the history of tin- 


world ; it was a struggle for life and death between the 
Aryan and Turanian races, and Christianity and civilisa- 
tion, and all that distinguishes Europe from Asia and 
Africa were at stake." 1 Nevertheless, power was passing 
more and more into the hands of the barbarians, who not 
only imaded the Empire, but settled in it, till in 476, by 
de.-ree of tin 1 Senate, the line of Western Emperors ceased, 
and tin- Eastern Emperor was declared ruler of the whole. 
Th'' settlement of the barbarians in the Empire is, of course, 
illustrated by the coming of the English tribes to Britain, 
but this cannot be understood if treated as an isolated 

So the rise, grandeur, and fall of Rome will have been 
set forth. Not very many lessons will have been require* 1, 
for only broad outlooks will have been taken, vividness 
U-iiiLT uiven by detailed representation of typical events. 
Wha 1 . then, are the lessons to be learnt? Rome presents 
ihe typical example of successful government, and \i 
sin- failed because her empire rested on the insecure 
foundation* of war and slavery. \Var was the main 

pat ion of the state, so commerce and industrial arts 
were neglected ; the capital lived on the tribute of the 
provinces ; serfs cultivated the land whilst the free popula- 
tion crowded the towns. There was thus no permanent 

i of union. Nor was such a bond supplied by religion. 
for the Kmpire tolerated all forms of religion. Tims, 
while the early centuries present examples of the noblest 
public virtues, the later show us a mass of public corn ip- 
tioii. Tin- real h. i Uoine to Europe is, then, the 

inheritance of her rurli- 

Tin- lessons to be emphasised in a study of the t\v.. 
great ancient nations are well summed up by Mr. l-Ycderic 
Q K- founded the city, the K'omaiiN the 
. P I"/,. 


nation. The Greeks were the authors of philosophy, the 
Romans of government, justice and peace. The Greek 
ideal was thought, the Roman ideal was law. The Greeks 
taught us the noble lesson of individual freedom, the 
Romans the still nobler lesson, the sense of social duty." 1 

The centuries of confusion and struggle which followed 
the fall of Rome should be very lightly 
to* Middle * P assed over - Several points, however, are 
Ages. important. Thus, whereas in England the 

invaders expelled or destroyed the older 
inhabitants, and with them the civilisation which had been 
Attained, in the rest of the Empire this was not so. The 
invaders were comparatively few and they settled amongst 
the former population, many of whose institutions sur- 
vived in a more or less changed form. 

Next the growing power of the Church slmuM !><> 
noticed, and especially that of the Roman Pontiff. In 
connection with this the mission under Augustine sent by 
Gregory the Great should be described. Above all, the 
great work of the Church in keeping alight the lamp of 
civilisation, religion, and morality amidst the thick <-lou<ls 
of ignorance and grossness, and in gradually winning the 
barbarians themselves to her pure and ennobling faith. 
should be brought into relief. 

The career of Mahomet should be briefly sketched, anl 
the rise of Mahometanism with the rapid spread of the 
Arabic conquests over south-west Asia and north Afri- ;i 
must be shown as a European danger. The Arabic con- 
quests in Spain in tin* early part of the eighth century 
accentuated the peril, but it was averted from west Europe 
by the defeat of the Saracens by Charles Martel in the 
battle of Tours in 732 a defeat which quenched for CVT 

1 Op. cit., pp. 51-2. 


Mahometan hopes of conquering Western Europe, though 
incursions into the south still continued. 

The temporary reduction of chaos to order by Charle- 
magne in Western Europe and by Egbert in England 
should ln> briefly narrated. The further invasion of the 
Empire by the Saracens in the south, the Hungarians in 
the east, the Northmen along the coasts of the west, and 
the ])anes in England should be mentioned. In connec- 
tion with this the work of Alfred in pacifying England 
and advancing civilisation should especially be insisted on. 
Then the establishment of the Duchy of Normandy by 
Rollo the Northman and the predominance of the Danes 
in England under Canute should be described. By the 
time of the conquest of England by William the new 
order of things was generally established in Europe. 

The Middle Ages have now been reached a period 
showing many marked characteristics which 
endured without very substantial change for 
some centuries. The two institutions it is 
essential to understand are the Church and Feudalism. 
The mediaeval theory was that Western Europe was still 
essential! v one community. "Men believed more than 
? h;tt Rome was the lawful and natural centre of the 
world. For it was held that there were of divine right two 
Vicars of God upon earth, the Roman Emperor his Vicar 
in t<*mp<ral things, and the Roman Bishop his Vicar in 
Hal things. This lelief did not interfere with the 
benoe either of separate commonwealths and princi- 
p;diti<- r of national churches. But it was held that ihr 
Roman Einp<T"r, who was called Lord of the World, was 
of rL'lit the h.-;id of all temporal states, and that tin- 
Roma n P.ishop. the Pope, was of right tin- hend of all 
rhiin-li.-s." 1 



On the religious side the Popes continually strove to 
make this theory a working reality. On the temporal side 
it was much less operative. The Emperor in practice was 
little more than one sovereign amongst others, at first a 
German, afterwards a Spanish, ruler elected by certain 
German princes. Still the theory held sway over men's 
minds, and unless it be grasped the clue to the history 
of the Middle Ages is wanting. In detail, the temporal 
organisation was Feudalism, which combined the old 
Roman element of holding land from the Emperor as tin* 
In-; id of the State with the Teutonic element of personal 
service to the lord. 

The topics chosen for special treatment in this period 
should, therefore, be such as bring out these two great 
aspects of life. Periods which do not vividly illustrate 
either may be passed over in few words or omitted 
altogether. The history will be centred in England, for 
the illustrations may be drawn from English history quite 
as effectively as from that of other parts of Europe. But 
the feudal relations of England to other countries, especially 
to Scotland and France, must be insisted on in any ex- 
planation of either the war with Scotland or the Hundred 
Years' war, for these were attempts to assert ullr-vl 
feudal rights. 

The nature of Feudalism may best be explained by 
beginning at the bottom of the social scale, with the manor 
dominated by the lord in his castle, and then working out 
the relation of the lord to his tenants and the kind of life 
which followed from that relation. The relation of the 
lord to his over-lord can be traced by analogy with this. 
Much of the power of the State is thus seen to have been 
parcelled out amongst the lords, whose power over their 
tenants was practically absolute. The tendency of this to 
lead to petty wars between nobles under a weak kin^- is 


well illustrate! by the reign of Stephen. The stru-ule 
U-tween barons anl kiiii:. each to limit the power of the 
other, is seen in the compulsory signing of Magna Chad a 
by .John and the equally compulsory acceptance of it by 
subsequent monarch s. The tendency of kings to extend 
their power over the nobles should throughout be kept in 
the foreground, as it is the clearest indication of the 
gradual unification of national life in England as in other 

This struggle was brought to a climax in England by 
the Wars of the Koses, which are important because in 
them the old feudal nobility destroyed itself. It is this 
whi.-h should be emphasised, not the alternation of ruling 
1 10 uses n>r the battles in which power changed sides. 
Thus Feudalism died in England long before it disap- 
peared from the Continent, and the opposing forces 
become the people and the king. 

The uT"\vth of the people in power will be traced both 
industrially and politically. The former is seen in the 
_ri. -uth of towns and commerce, and was accelerated by 
tin- introduction of the Flemings into East Anglia by 
I-M ward the Third; the latter begins with the parliament 
1 1 ion de Montfort. 

Keeping these main ideas in view the teacher will choose 
lii> topics. He will make them real by vivid account 
the lighter >ide of Feudalism : the life in village and eastle, 
th- irainin_ r t a knight, the idea of chivalry, tournaments, 
and tin- methods of actual war. He will describe the 
siege of a castl*-. and may make it living ly reading the 
uid graphic MOOUnl in the forty-third chapter of 
ml tin llxtrtli. Similarly, life in town \\ith 
ite organisation into gild> will i>e deseril>ed 

The Crusades shou at on. the growth of the mil enee 
B rlmivh a/id the charact'-n.-ti.'s of chivalry. At the 


same time they are one of the causes which led to the break- 
up of the Feudal System. They will not be treated in 
detail, but the first under Godfrey of Bouillon, leading to 
the establishment of the Latin kingdom of Jerusalem, and 
the third, in which Richard the First took part, should be 
taken as types and told with sufficient fulness to make 
them real movements. 

Opportunity is here given to show the spread of 
Mahometan power and to describe Saracen civilisation, 
nor should it be forgotten that there had been a Moorish 
kingdom in Spain since the beginning of the eighth century, 
which had attained a high degree of civilisation and which 
was not conquered by the Christian king of Spain till the 
end of the fifteenth century. Thus the long series of 
Crusades lasting from the end of the eleventh till the end 
of the thirteenth century get a meaning. They are seen 
to be phases in the long duel between Christianity and 
Mahometiiuism, and their ultimate failure will prepare the 
pupils' minds for the later incursions of the Ottoman 
Turks into Europe and their conquest of Constantinople 
in 1453. One of the great drawbacks to confining history 
teaching to England is that this great struggle, during 
which for centuries the fate of Europe hung in the balance, 
is iuiioivd, whilst attention is concentrated on such petty 
events as the battles of the Wars of the Roses. 

The other great institution to be illustrated is the 
Church. Of course the two series of lessons those 
lea ling with Feudalism and those treating of the Church 
will run on side by side. We have separated them here 
for clearness in laying down the main lines the teaching 
should take: we are not drawing out a detailed syllabus. 
The Church is seen at first as the great preserver of 
civilisation and learning amongst war, ignorance, and 
brutal roughness of life. The meaning of monastic life 


and tlu- roligious influence of the preaching friars should 
be brought out by vivid description. The work of the 
Church in founding schools should be made clear. Its 
j^los to assort its independence of the temporal power 
should be illustrated by the dispute between Henry the 
Second and Thomas of Canterbury. Its influence in 
secular mat tors may be exemplified in such great ecclesias- 
tical statesmen as Grosseteste, William of Wykehani, and 
Wolsey. The advance of churchmen in the arts is shown 
by reference to the cathedrals, churches, and monastic 
ruins which remain to us. The existence of doubts as to 
the Church's doctrines and of discontent with the social 
system are both brought out in Wycliffe. 

If the teaching is planned to emphasise these features 
of life in the Middle Ages, and is made' vivid by copious 
detail and illustration, the pupils will learn more real 
history than if they memorise all the sovereigns of 
England and " the chief events in their reigns " as set 
forth by the ordinary school text-book. They will have 
lived in imagination in the Middle Ages, and will have 
seen law and order, industry, the arts and learning 
A ing up under the protection of Feudalism and the 
Church; yet they will have found disintog rat ing forces at 
work, and will thus be prepared to find in tho KYnuissance 
and Reformation only the acceleration and concentration 
of existing movements, all making for a greater individual 
liberty of men and a greater independence of nations. 
For in the Church and Feudalism are seen the two great 
hindrances to the expansion of national lii'o. Tho Church, 
by uniting all nations into ,.n< organisation, which 
exercised not only religious functions but many secular 
powers as well. inad- distinctions and separation I>H \\.vn 
nations difficult, l-Yudalism. l>y subdividing tho power of 
the State amongst tho nobles, especially \\hon many noblon 


held fiefs in several countries, made the internal union of 
States unstable and insecure. Hence the demand for 
national unity took the two forms of a centralised civil 
government and an equally centralised national Church, 
of which membership should be as compulsory as is 
membership of the State. 

The dominance of these. two ideas must be borne in 
mind in tracing the transition between the 

Transition to mediaeval and the modern world, especiallv 

the Modern _, , , m1 . . 

World. m England. They explain both the civil 

and the ecclesiastical policy of the Tudors 
and the Stuarts. 

But other influences must be noticed as leading to 
the break up of mediaevalism. Of one of these the 
Eenaissance but little will be said, for the revival of 
classical learning can have but little meaning to a primary 
school pupil. But in its later and German form of the 
Reformation it must be dealt with, though the teacher 
must here be specially on his guard against an unfair 
presentment of the facts. The movement under Luther 
will be traced in outline, especially so far as it influenced 
events in England. The leading force in the Reformation 
in England under the Tudors will be shown to have been 
the desire of the sovereigns for absolute power and a 
centralised national life, and the consequent disposition 
to attack the Church as the chief obstacle to the attain- 
ment of those ends. The marriage question is then seen 
to have been only a pretext, and Henry's various experi- 
ments in matrimony may be left to repose in forget fulness. 
With an interval under Mary the same policy was con- 
tinued by Elizabeth, and a meaning is thus found in the 
religious persecutions of the time, which are seen to be 
as much political as religious in their intention. 

Equally important in its results with the Reformation 


was the movement towards geographical discovery made 
-:Me by tlie mariner's compass, which, tradition says, 
\\as invented bv Gioja of Naples in 1302. The know- 
ledge of the world tlien possessed by Europeans should be 
sketched ami illustrated by reproduction of maps of the 
time. A picturesque examination of the mediaeval trade 
routes will explain the commercial supremacy of Italy. 
Tli.- discoveries should be seen as a race for the Indies. 
" The elements of this race are (a) the discovery of the 
Cape of Good Hope by Diaz, in 1486 ; (6) the discovery by 
Columbus, in 1492, of the West Indies, which lay in front 
ot' the irreat barrier continents; (c) Vasco da G-ama's 
voyage to India in 1497-8; (d) Albuquerque's seizure of 
Malacca and the Spice Islands in 1511 and 1512, before 
(e) Balboa discovered the South Sea, and ten years before 
(/) Magellan reached the Philippines." 1 England's con- 
nect ion with the discoveries will be found in the voyages 
of Cabot. The great result of these discoveries was the 
siibMitution of the Atlantic for the Mediterranean as the 
highway of trade, and the consequent transference of the 
litre of intellectual and commercial life from Italy to the 
countries bordering that ocean. Of course the change was 

idden: it took a century to accomplish. 
The general condition of the western European nations 
at the iK'trinninir of t lie sixteenth century should here be 
grasped. Spain had conquered Granada and united the 
wh..|e |- en in ^ii la. except Portugal, under one head; Sar- 
dinia. Sicily, Naple>. IJiirgundy.and tin- Netherlands were, 
by marriage or by conquest, dominions of t lie Spanish kin--. 
When the thrones of Spain and the Empire were united in 
Charles the Fifth the restoration of the Roman Knipire 
seemed about to be accomplished. li France wa ifa 

and compact, and both I'Yancis of l-Yain-e and Henr\ ,,| 

'',/./ //,././, md OM . p. -2 1 .*!. 

TO. 17 


England were young and ambitious. Portugal had no 
European dominions outside her borders, but had taken 
tin* lead in discovery in Africa and had found her way to 

There are two main clues to the history of the three 

centuries which follow. The first to be 
First Modern 
Period the apparent was the religious struggle which 

Balance of g rew out of the Information. The second 
was the struggle for supremacy between 
the nations, especially for the possession of the New 
World. These cut across each other in many places, and 
neither by itself will explain the course of events. As 
Stubbs remarks : " Where Protestantism was an idea only, 
as in Spain and Italy, it was crushed out by the linjuisi- 
tion; where, in conjunction with political power and 
sustained by ecclesiastical confiscation, it became a phv- 
sical force, there it was lasting." 1 An exception is found 
in the Netherlands, where bad government in general and 
religious persecution in particular led to revolt, whirl i, at'tr 
forty years of heroic struggle, ended in the establishment 
of the Dutch Kepublic in 1609. By the end of the seven- 
teenth century, however, the Reformation had practically 
ceased to be a force in politics. 

But the other motive to strife continually innvasrd 
in strength. Discovery involved appropriation. So, a< 
Seeley says, the competition for the New World !! \vccn 
Spain, Portugal, France, Holland, and England "is a 
formula which sums up a great part of the history of 
the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries." 2 An isolated 
treatment of English history, then, must obviously fail 
to give a true idea of the course of events. In this 
struggle distinct phases should be marked. In the six- 
teenth century Spain conquered Mexico and Peru, and 
1 Op. cit., p. 268. 2 Op. <;>., ]>. ox. 


Portugal annexed Brazil. For sixty years, from 1580 to 
1640, Portugal was under the dominion of Spain. Thus 
the trade monopoly which was characteristic of Spain's 
foreign policy formed a barrier between the rest of Europe 
and America. In this will be seen the origin and, to some 
extent, the excuse of the buccaneering expeditions of Drake, 
Grrenville, Raleigh, Hawkins, and other Elizabethan " sea- 
dogs," which, combined with English aid to the revolted 
Netherlands, and with religious differences, led to the 
Spanish Armada. 

In the seventeenth century occur the English and French 

Aleuts in America, whilst the Dutch issued from their 
war with Spain the masters of most of their enemies' pos- 
sessions in the East Indies. Towards the close of the 
century both Holland and Portugal have declined in power, 
Spain has remained stationary, but England and France 
have advanced. So the interest in the eighteenth century 
essentially centres in the duel between England and 

It is, then, with the Spanish Armada that the modern 

: v of England is seen to begin. From that time 
England should be shown as becoming more and more a 
power on the sea, and a commercial and industrial nation. 
Karly in the following century it must be noted how she 
began to expand beyond her own shores by founding the 
American colonies, whilst the danger of internal war ceased 
tin 1 union f England and Scotland under James the 
First. England took no direct part in the Thirty Y 
War, a contest partly religious and partly political, which 

1 f ermany exhausted and the way clear for the greatness 

ranee under Louis the Fourth-nth. Int-iv>t t'->r the 
will In- r'iitr'l in the home struggle also partly 
'v ivligious between Kiii^ an<! Parlia- 
ment. :ml tin- nanu's <t' l.aii-1. St rafT- >nl. Hain|Ml.-n. P\m. 


and Cromwell will be made familiar. The main thread is, 
however, soon taken up again when England challenges 
the Dutch monopoly of the carrying trade of the world. 
The changing alliances in the wars which were wagrd 
before England definitely took the lead in commerce show 
how largely religious affinities were subordinated to consi- 
derations of increase of power. The Revolution of 1688 
brought England for the first time definitely face to 
face with France. 

The power of the Empire will be shown to have been 
much shaken, not only by the Thirty Years' War, but by 
the incursions of the Turks. A brief retrospect will be 
needed. Francis the First of France had obtained the 
help of the Turks against the Empire, and they had 
conquered a large part of Hungary, and besieged Vienna. 
For a time their advance was checked, and Philip the 
Second of Spain, in alliance with the Republic of Venice, 
defeated them in the naval battle of Lepanto in 1571. 
A century later the persecuted Protestants of the Empire 
allied themselves with the Turks, who again besieged 
Vienna in 1683. The war went on till 1699, by which 
time they had been driven out of Hungary. So the 
danger which for centuries had threatened Christendom 
finally lost its terror. 

At the beginning of the eighteenth century, therefore, 
England and France are seen to stand face to face, and 
with but short intermissions war continued between them 
for more than a hundred years, the prize being beyond 
the seas in America and in India. The internal historv 
of England is uninteresting, and of little importance : 
the only really memorable event being the legislative 
union of England and Scotland. The incursions of 
the Old and Young Pretenders were primarily moves in 
the game of France. Such a war as that of the 'Spanish 


' seeius inexplicable till the clue is grasped. 
" In reaiitv," says Seeley, "it is the most business-like of 
all >ur wars, ami it was waged in the interest of English 
and Dutch merchants whose trade and livelihood were at 
stake. . . . From 1660 to 1700 France had been the first 
state in the world beyond all dispute. But the Treaty of 
Utrecht left England the first state in the world, and she 
continued for some years to be first without a rival." 1 

During the twenty-seven years of peace or rather truce 
which followed, the positions of England and France in 
America and in India should be described. " The French 
clainie<l all America, from the Alleghanies to the Rocky 
Mountains, and from Mexico and Florida to the North 
Pole-, except only the ill-defined possessions of the English 
on tin- borders of Hudson Bay ; and to these vast regions, 
with adjacent islands, they gave the general name of 
New France. They controlled the highways of the con- 
tinent, for they held its two great rivers. . . . Canada 
at the north, and Louisiana at the south, were the keys of 
a boundless interior, rich with incalculable possibilities. 
Tin- Kimli>h colonies, ranged along the Atlantic coast, had 
no royal road to the great inland, and were, in a manner, 
shut between the mountains and the sea."- In India each 
country possessed certain trading stations, and had Ix^un 
to tak- a share in native quarrels. "The whole history of 
European Empire in India begins with the interference of 
the French in the war of succession in Hyderabad that 
bnke out on the death of the great Nizam ul Mulk 


The war of the Austrian Succession will then Ite briefly 
leda* really tin- lir nfli.-t which emle.l 

ii. i :{_'. 

7..///m/,,, nnd Wolf, , V,,l. I.. ,,. 

Seeley, op. dr.. | 


with the Seven Years' War. The first appearance of 
Prussia as an important factor in European politics will be 
noted. Here stands out the figure of Frederick the Great, 
who, " with smiles on his lip and anguish at his heart, 
watched, manoeuvred, and fought with cool and stubborn 
desperation." l By fixing attention on America and India 
it will be seen that there was no real cessation of 
hostilities between the nominal close of the former war 
and the formal beginning of the latter. 

The Seven Years' War is of momentous importance, and 
made even picturesque by the heroic figures of the eMor 
Pitt, Frederick the Great, Clive, and Wolfe. Its course 
should be traced in Europe, America, and India, not in 
detail, but in bold outline. " It is no exaggeration to say 
that three of its many victories determined for ages to 
come the destinies of mankind. With that of Rossi >u<-li 
began the re-creation of Germany, the revival of its 
political and intellectual life, the long process of its union 
under the leadership of Prussia and Prussia's kings. Will) 
that of Plassey the influence of Europe told for the first 
time since the days of Alexander on the nations of the 
East. The world, in Burke's gorgeous phrase, ' saw one 
of the races of the north- west cast into the heart of Asia 
new manners, new doctrines, new institutions.' With the 
triumph of Wolfe on the heights of Abraham began the 
history of the United States." 2 

The results of the war must be emphasised. " The 
Seven Years' War made England what she is. It crippled 
the commerce of her rival, ruined France in two continents, 
and blighted her as a colonial power. It gave England 
the control of the seas and the mastery of North America 
and India, made her the first of commercial nations, and 

1 Parkinan, <>)>. nt ., Vol. II., p. -HV. 

2 Green, Short History of the Emjlidt /\<.>ji!c, p. 757. 


that vast colonial system that has planted new 
K airlands in every quarter of the globe." l 

The revolt of the American colonies will next occupy atten- 
tioii. It must be seen how the overthrow of the French 
power in America made it possible for the colonies to dis- 
pense with the protection of the mother country. Neither 
the unreasonableness of the colonists nor the unwisdom 
of English statesmen, with such honourable exceptions as 
Burke and Pitt, should be hidden. The history of the 
struggle is not, in itself, fascinating, but the figure of 
-hington is heroic, and the result is one of the most 
momentous the world has yet seen. It was the birth of a 
nation which in little more than a century " has tamed the 
savage continent, peopled the solitude, gathered wealth 
untold, waxed potent, imposing, redoubtable." 2 

The twelve years which intervened between the close of 
the Seven Years' War and the outbreak of the American 
revolt had seen more peaceful victories. " In the year 
which followed the Peace of Paris two English ships were 
sent on a cruise of discovery to the Straits of Magellan; 
three \ears later Captain Wallis reached the coral reefs of 
Tahiti: and in 1768 Captain Cook traversed the Pacific 
from end to end. ami wherever he touched, in New Zealand, 
in Au>tralia. he claimed the soil for the English Crown, 
and oj>e ned a new world for the expansion of the English 
race." 8 

The last phase of modern history has now been reached. 
National rights and the balance of power are 
still fon-cs, but the characteristic of this 
last per io,l is the influence of ideas. The 
beginnings of this influence are, of course, to be found 

1 V II, pp. 5-6. 

8 Parkraan, op. cit., Vi.I. II.. p. IJ!> 
* Green, op. cil. t p. 758. 


earlier ; indeed, the American Declaration of Independence 
enunciates the fundamental ideas of the French Revolu- 
tion. But it is with the latter event that the force of 
ideas becomes predominant. The chief of these guiding 
clues to the history of the last century are the ideas of 
nationality, liberty, and humanity. No full account can 
be attempted of this part of history, for the movements 
are often exceedingly complex. It is better to treat in 
some detail typical instances of the predominance of each 

The outbreak of the French Revolution must be seen as 
the inevitable result of the system perfected by Louis the 
Fourteenth and perpetuated by his successors. The early 
English sympathy with the movement should be made 
plain a sympathy alienated by the excesses of the French. 
The wars which for a quarter of a century convulsed Europe 
will not be treated in detail, but the aims of the various 
:4iv;it campaigns should be shown, and such leaders as 
Napoleon, Nelson, and Wellington will stand out in bold 
relief. Though all Europe was involved, the war will l^e 
seen to have been essentially a renewal of the duel between 
England and France, and the key to Napoleon's policy 
will be found in his efforts to recover for France her place 
in the New World. "He sees in England never the 
island, the European State, but always the World-Empire, 
the network of dependencies and colonies and islands 
covering every sea." l 

Among the events dealt with in the period of the 
Napoleonic wars should be the partition of Poland 
between Russia and Prussia, for, says Dr. Stubbs, 
" it seems to me that the partition of Poland . . . was the 
event that forced the idea of nationality upon the world." 2 

1 Seeley, op. cit., p. 33. 2 Op. cit., p. 271. 


The workings of this idea should be shown in the lil K-ra- 
tion of Greece and the Danube provinces from the 
Turkish yoke, the unification of Italy, the consolidation 
of Germany, and, above all, in the growing feeling of 
a common nationality between the scattered parts of the 
British Empire. The important influence in this latter 
ivsject of the applications of steam and electricity to the 
means of communication, really knitting the parts of the 
world more closely together, should not be neglected. The 
growth of the English power in India and its consolidation 
after tht- Mutiny should be broadly touched upon. 

The increasing influence of the ideas of liberty and 
humanity may be illustrated by the abolition of slavery 
first in England, afterwards in the United States, whilst 
the Civil \Var which followed the latter event gives a 
further illustration of the force of the idea of nationality. 

The expansion of the power of Russia must be shown, 
and it will be well to trace briefly Russia's story since the 
time when, under Peter the Great, she first became of 
European importance. 

These topics will involve sufficient reference to the 
great wars of the last hundred years. 

:isileral>le attention should be given to the industrial 
and roiniiieivial development which began in the eighteenth 
-entury. and has done so much to alter the conditions of 
human life. The invention of the steam engine, the use of 
"al, the application of machinery to industry, the con- 
sequent growth of the factory system with its attendant 
evils and blessings, the increase of population and the 
shift in'.: ,f its greatest density from the south and east 
to the north, the abolition of the Corn Laws, factory 
!afion, tin- improvement of communication by roads, 
canals, railways, steamships, and telegraphs, the institution 
of a cheap and effective postal system, the spread of the 


means of education, are examples of topics which touch 
present-day life at every point and are, therefore, pro- 
foundly interesting and instructive to the young. 

Some lessons, too, may be given on the relations of civic 
life. The history course should not have omitted to trace 
the steps of parliamentary reform by which the repre- 
sentative system has been made more effective. The ideas 
thus gathered, and those derived from every-day life on 
such subjects as government, elections, taxation, civic dutv 
ami rights, may now be knitted together and made more 
explicit. It should be remembered, however, that these 
subjects are not very attractive to children, whose know- 
ledge of them, moreover, will naturally increase as they grow 
older, (/an 1 should, therefore, be taken not to make such 
instruction either detailed or frequent. Practical exercise 
in social functions, however, which is involved in the service 
of pupils on committees to manage various forms of social 
organisation, such as school sports, is altogether good. The 
best training in citizenship is indirect. When a boy has 
learnt what he owes to his country, he will feel that his 
country has a right to demand service of him. that citizen- 
ship not only confers rights but imposes obligations. And 
the surest way to arouse this feeling is by teaching him 
history to bring home to him the debt he owes to those 
heroes of religion, culture, discovery, commerce, industry, 
politics, and empire that have made England what 
she is. 

8. It remains to consider briefly the mode in which such 

a course may be made most successful. The 
Teaching ain1 ' ^ must b remembered, is so to impart 

historical knowledge that a keen and per- 
manent interest is excited in the pupils, and to train in 
them the power to use books, through which alone they 
can give scope to that interest in after life. 


There will then be need for three maiii forms of presen- 
tat-iou by text-book, by oral teaching, and by additional 
rending; each of which should be supplementary to the 

The text-book should more and more become the back- 
bone of the instruction as the pupils advaiuv 
The Text-book. . , . , * r . , 

in age. The general method of using such 

a book has already been indicated. 1 Suffice it here to say 
that the reading should be made purposeful by well chosen 
preliminary questions ; fruitful by being talked over by 
the teaeher, and its results enlarged, organised, and vivified 
by his more copious and definite knowledge ; and of per- 
manent value by furnishing the material for written 
exercises which demand more and more power both of 
judgment and of analysis and synthesis as the pupils 
become more mature. 

A good text-book should be one written by an author 
who is competent at once as a scholar and a teacher. Too 
many of those in common use are mere pieces of hack- 
work, the study of which engenders prejudice and false 
notions even when it does not lead to disgust with tin- 
whole subject. The true teacher of history will be v i \ 
:ul in his choice of a text-book. It should contain a 
well chosen selection of facts, with important dates, 
grouped so as to bring out the leading movements. There 
should be plenty of maps, and a few genealogical tables 
to throw light on such feudal disputes as the claims to 
the thrones of France and Scotland made by English 

Illustration^ in text-books are not important, for their 

fun" it served by the use of lar^e 

.iv^and lantern slides which can be talked over l.\ 

1 8*. pp. 82-4. 


teacher and class and so form centres round which the 
discussion of the matter which has been studied may be 
grouped. If they are present, however, they should not 
be fancy pictures of events, but such as really help in 
the understanding of the life of the past, similar 
indeed to the class-pictures which will be spoken of on a 
later page. 

The teacher who wishes to adopt such a course as we 
have sketched will find himself somewhat limited in the 
choice of class text-books, for the great majority of those 
written for primary schools deal only with English history. 
Several text-books on general European history have, 
however, recently been published. 

Even when a good text-book has been found, its 

brevity necessitates that it should be but 
Oral Teaching. * 

an outline which must be supplemented, 

filled out, and vivified. The text-book work should, there- 
fore, be fitted into a course of oral teaching. In the oral 
lessons it is important at once to avoid overloading with 
farts and to escape the danger of an abstract treatntenfc. 
The ideas and topics worked out in the last section are 
guides for the teacher, not formulas to be given to the 
pupils. Characteristic events described in sufficient detail 
to secure vividness in life, and grouped under the influence 
of those leading thoughts, will make the tendencies of 
movements clear to the pupils. The teacher's revisions 
and his summaries on the blackboard which in all cases 
he should have prepared beforehand are further helps in 
securing the desired result. 

The oral lesson and the study of the text-book should be 
interwoven in every possible way. The former should con- 
tinually appeal to knowledge derived from the latter, and 
the discussions on the latter can often be made an integral 
part of the former. 


It is in the oral teaching that illustrations are most 

effectively used, for there they can be dis- 

Illustrations. n-'ii-i -* 3 j _. e 

cussed in detail. Moderate sized pictures of 

which each pupil, or every two pupils, can have a 'o;>y are 
in many cases the most effective. Those of value in the 
te\t-l>ook can be so used, and they may be supplemented 
liv such pictures as are contained in Messrs. Horace 
Marshall's series of Historical Albums. Large pictures for 
class teaching have also their function, and when these are 
u-vd it is essential that the pupils should have easy access to 
them at times when the lessons in history are not actually in 
progress, so that they may pore over them till the instruction 
reyed has become an integral part of their historical 
knowledge. Now that the lantern can be used without 
darkening the room, slides are very effective modes of 
pictorial illustration; they can be produced at small cost, 
and as the selection rests entirely with the teacher, they 
can IK' adapted to his teaching more perfectly than is 
possible with pictures. 

\Yliether pictures or slides, it is not the number but the 

Duality that is important. Accuracy is essential, and the 

illustrations must be such as help the pupils to picture 

the past, not such as attempt to picture it for them. 

reat men; views of places where important 

> o -cm-red; examples of ecclesiastical, feudal, and 

loinpstic architecture cathedrals, churches, monast TICS. 

castles, fortified towns, guildhalls, houses in town anl 

country; armour, arms, aixl implements of war; siege 

I; tournaments: tin- instruments of industry in 

various ages ; means of transport roads, bri-1 pus, 

at successive periods, early railway engines and trains ; 

imcs of the j>eople at different times 

are tin- illu>tratins \\liidi are really of help in 

an-l teaehin-j Iii<tr\ . Ii .il.le that 


the school library should contain, and the pupils be allowed 
free access to, such books as the illustrated edition of 
Green's Short History of the English People, Barnard's 
Companion to English History in the Middle Ages, and 
Lavisse and Parmentier's Album Historique, which con- 
tains in its four volumes over five thousand pictures 
relating to mediaeval and modern history. 

But far better than any picture, however good it 
may be, is an example of the actual thing. 

Visits to F U H U8e should, therefore, be made of any 

Objects of His- , . . . . ,, . , , , .. _ J 

toric Interest, historic remains in the neighbourhood by 

taking the pupils to examine them at the 
time they are being spoken of in the lessons. Districts 
vary much in the advantages they offer for vivifying 
history by this means. Few places can furnish such 
typical illustrations of earlier life as York, with its Roman 
tower, its walls and their gates, its castle, its minster, abbey 
ruins, and churches, its guildhall, its examples of domestic 
architecture from the manor house to the tradesman's dwell- 
ing. Winchester, London, Chester, Norwich, Worcester, 
Shrewsbury, and many other towns offer similar advan- 
tages. But at most places an old church at least is 
within reach. In many is a museum in which are 
exhibited old armour, arms, and implements of industry. 
Whatever there is should be utilised to the full. 

Mere indefinite looking at such objects is worthless; 
they must fit into their appropriate setting of knowledge. 
If the pupils, then, are to be taken to see the remains of a 
castle or monastery, they should be prepared to examine 
them intelligently, by means of a lesson in school which 
brings out the purpose such buildings served, and the 
kind of structure adapted to secure it. As a record of 
this, each should, under the teacher's guidance, draw a 
nui^li plan. The reasonableness of the old planning will 


,.fteii be brought out by the children's power of inferring 
its general outlines from their appreciation of the inten- 
tion of tin* building. Armed with these plans teacher and 
class should then visit the ruins and go through them 
systematically, rivalling tin- purpose of each part and 
noting its adaptation to that purpose. The visit should 
be followed by a lesson in which a vivid description is 
Driven of life in monastery or castle in the olden time, 
which thus knits together and revises all that has been 

Of course, the same buildings may be visited more than 
once, each time with a special purpose. It is a mistake to 
suppose that one can exhaust mediaeval life in an hour. 
The castle, for example, after having been examined from 
the general point of view, may be visited again to empha- 
sise its defensive character : such a visit would be a good 
preparation for a lesson on a siege. Or monastic ruins 
might on a second visit be viewed as exemplifying the suc- 
cessive phases of church architecture. Comparison should 
be made with old churches in the neighbourhood, which 
should also be visited. There is no difficulty in arousing 
in children an interest in such a subject as this, nor is the 
general and typical knowledge which should be given them 
difficult either to a-,juire or to impart. Its value in adding 
interest and giving meaning to almost every place visited 
in after life is obvious. 

It is easy when visiting a building to keep the pupils' 
attention fixed on the right points. When the object to 
be examined is in a museum this is more difficult. The 
children naturally tend to let their observation flit from 
thinj t< thin^. There are few ways of wasting time more 
absolutely th.m by indiscriminate looking at many !.;. 
and pta1im to this than d- 

mil Pupils ,-is well as teaeher vlmuld, llieii. Know 


the kind of things they are going to examine, and should 
enter the museum with an interest in just those things 
aroused l>\ the school teaching. The teacher should know 
exactly where to find the objects he wishes to bring under 
his pupils' notice, and should be prepared generally with 
remarks and questions which will help them to keep their 
eyes and thoughts in the right direction. The visit has 
then every chance of being profitable. 

In addition to text-book and oral lesson, supplementary 
historical reading is required. The t\\o 

former aim at followill S th e main cimvm 
of affairs hand in hand ; the latter at throw- 
ing side-lights on the main topics. It is clear, then, that 
the text-book should never be used as a reader, nor the 
reader as a text-book. In the fifth and sixth years such 
books as Mr. Finnemore's two little volumes on Soi-inl 
Life in England 1 should be put into the pupils' hands. 
These are short, and other readings may be chosen 
by the teacher from Plutarch's Lives or Froissart's 
Chronicles, or from a book of extracts from con- 
temporary writers, which may either be read aloud to 
the class by the teacher or by individual pupils, 2 or, if 
the book is in the school library, may be read privately 
by the pupils in turn. This must obviously be decided by 
the size of class and library and by the teacher's knowled^p 
of what is best for his pupils. In all cases the supple- 
mentary reading should bear on the systematic work then 
in hand. Historical novels as well as histories furnish 
much suitable supplementary reading, but the teacher 

1 Published by Messrs. A. and C. Black. 

2 Books of extracts suitable for class reading are the IIIntr<iiir< 
Jfixfories published by Messrs. H. Marshall and Son. The teacher 
will find many extracts which he may read to the class in Mr. 
Robinson's excellent Readings in European //>'*',>/. ((*inn & Co.) 


slmuM only recommend those which succeed in giving a 
true historical atmosphere. Historical poetry should also 
IK.- pressed into the service; nothing is more calculated to 
roust- the feeling of enthusiasm without which history 
teaching is like seed planted on stony ground. 

In the seventh year the class is usually not very large, 
and the pupils are old enough to work a great deal by and 
for themsehvs. The supplementary reading should here 
largely take the form of working out some easy topic set 
by the teacher from books indicated by him, not, as in the 
younger classes, of reading certain specified pages. It is 
evident that a library is absolutely necessary if this the 
highest work in history of which the primary school is 
capable is to be carried out. 

In connection with all these forms of teaching the pupils 

should keep note-books in which they should 
Note-Books. J , 

enter the summaries ot the teacher s oral 

lessons, abstracts of their text-book study, references to 
illustrative passages in their supplementary reading, sketch 
maps, and drawings of parts of places visited and of 
some of the simpler pictorial illustrations. In a word, 
they .should l.e thus trained to work at a subject in a 
way most profitable to themselves. No uniformity in 
1 should U insisted on; the teacher will tind he has 
a quite sufficiently difficult task iii training each pupil 
even though he has two or three years in which to do it 
to I "<-.. m,. fairly adept at self-instruction. In every note- 
book there should U> a Time-Chart a long line divided at 
regular intervals into periods of a century, on which the 
.! should enter the most important events, writing 

\vhi-h refer to Kn-land on tl n- side and those 

winch have no >uch direct reference..!! the other. 

Throughout, history and geography should -o hand in 
hand Hi-torv \s it hout geography i Miiintelli U 'il>le, 

i... 18 


and geography without history is devoid of human interest. 

As Carlyle wrote to one of his nephews : 
Connection "As to subjects for reading, I recommend 
Geography. m general all kinds of books that will 

give you real information about men, their 
works and ways, past and present. History is evidently 
the grand subject a student will take to. Never read any 
such book without a map beside you ; endeavour to seek 
out every place the author names, and get a clear idea of 
the ground you are on ; without this you can never under- 
stand him, much less remember him. Mark the dates of 
the chief events and epochs ; write them ; get them fixed 
into your memory chronology and geography are the two 
lamps of history." 1 

To work successfully such a scheme as has been sug- 
. gested obviously requires that a larger 

amount of time be given to history than 
is usual in English primary schools. We believe that the 
great culture value of the subject quite justifies this. 
Three hours a week direct teaching, either by text-book or 
by oral lessons, in addition to the supplementary reading 
and the written exercises which, of course, are lessons in 
English as well as in History will be found sufficient, 
and is not more than the value of the subject justifies. 
We will end this chapter even as we began it, and in 

doing so cannot refrain from quoting the 
Conclusion. ..? 

last paragraph of Mr. Somervell s very sug- 
gestive article on the teaching of modern history in 
Mr. Barnett's Teaching and Organisation. 2 He writes : 
"Methods are after all but the 'dry bones ' of teaching. 
' There are very many in the open valley ; and lo, they are 
very dry.' He only who has a genuine interest in the 

1 Quoted by Hinsdale, How to Study and Teach Hiatory, p. 94. 

2 Page 179. 


M..I-V of the ]>ast, sympathy with the painful efforts and 
the slow achievements of men, and not less with their 
failures and their ignorance, can make the dry bones live. 
He only can gain for himself or impart to others, through 
the study of History, not merely an addition to know- 
ledge, but the real spirit of History a keen insight, a 
wide sympathy, a balanced judgment, an unfaltering love 
for truth. While he who regards the characters of his 
j)ii]ils as of more value than their attainments, who is 
juick to see, in the little world of school, the same 

>nts of good and evil, the same forces of ambition 
and humility, of honour and cowardice, of truth and 
falsehood, the zeal for duty and the 'great refusal,' the 
self -seeking and self-sacrifice, that have shaped the History 
of Nations, will find in his lessons moments of opportunity 
which it will IK- his highest of all duties to turn to good 

11. >u in- lMX)ks are recommended to the teacher : 


me: Tin- Teaching of History and 

< ivies... 6/- (Longmans). 

Harrison: Th<- Meaning "i Ih-tory, Chs. 

i.-iv. . s i> iManmlluii). 

Board nf Kduration : Sui^'-st ions tor the 
ilciati>n ot Ti-adu-i>. pp. (il-4, 11!)- 

l-'l ... Hd. (Wyman). 

.'/ ti'ini/nijihi/ : 

Freeman: ffiotorioel Qeqgraphy of Europe 1- <i i>i. 

-'i Europe.., <"> <: I. 

. in ( 'oiinrrtioii with 4,(i (( 'lan-mlon 


\ o| I'.ntish 

pire :\ (i 


' I M iiK,-tnl lol.lio-iapi 

MO are specially roconiiiicn.l. -.|. 



On the Matter of History : 

Wilmot-Buxton : The Ancient World ... 3/6 (Methuen). 

Oman: History of Greece 4/6 (Longmans). 

Wells : History of Rome 3/6 ( Methuen ) . 

t*Myers : Ancient History ... ... ... 7/6 (Ginn). 

*Myers : Middle Ages o/- ((Jinn). 

*Myers : Modern Age ... ... ... 6/- (Ginn). 

Bryce : Holy Roman Empire ... ... 7/6 (Macniillan). 

*Emerton : Introduction to Middle Ages ... 5/- (Ginn). 

*Emerton : Mediaeval Europe 7/6 (Ginn). 

* Adams : European History 6/6 (Macmillan). 

*Bourne : Mediaeval and Modem History ... 7/6 (Longmans). 

*Hassal : Brief Survey of European History 4/6 (Blaokie). 

t*Robinson : History of Western Europe ... 7/6 (Ginn). 

Church : IJcLMimiiiijs of Middle Ages ... 2/6 (Longmans). 

Johnson: Normans in Kun-pc ... ... 2/6 (Longmans). 

Cox : The Crusades 2/6 (Longmans). 

Seebohm : Protestant Reformation 2/6 (Longmans). 

Creigh ton : Age of Elizabeth 2/6 (Longmans). 

fGreen : Short History of the English 

People 8/6 (Macmillan). 

tSeeley: The Expansion of England ... 4/- (Macmillan). 

McCarthy: Short History of our Own 6/- (Chatto and 

Time \Vindus). 

tWarner : Landmarks in English Industrial 

History 5/- (Blackie). 

t*Baraard : Companion to English History : 3/6 (Clarendon 

Middle Ages Press). 

tJessop : Coming of Friars and other Essays 3/6 (Umvin). 
t Jusserand : English Wayfaring Life in 

Middle Ages 2/6 (Umvin). 

Cornish: Chivalry 4/6 (Sonnen- 

Oman: The Art of War : Uk. III., Chs. 2, M-liein). 

3, 5, 6, 7 ; Bk. VI., Chs. 2, 6, 7 ; Bk. 

VII., Chs. 1, 2 ; Bk. VIII., Chs. 1, 2, 3 10/- (Methuen). 

* These contain useful bibliographies, 
t These are specially recommended. 


Source /?""/>.- 

t*Rol>insun : Keadings in European History 

to.), each 7/- (Ginn). 

Sridired edition in 1 vol. is published at 7/-.) 
Colin : Selections from Sources of English 

'i-y 6/- (Longmans). 

Kendall : Smuvr Book of English History 3/6 (Macmillan). 
Illustrative Histories (4 voK i. each 2/- or 2/6 (H.Marshall). 
Specially Miited for reading by pupils.) 


Howard : Mediaeval History 2/6 (H. Marshall). 

(The .-econd volume of an excellent series of 
(ieiit-r..! Hi-tory rriniers, hut rather too ad- 

i>tionally p i>,l ela 

Ailmiralily >uited t<i tlie nei ds of pupil-teachers 
and liiu'ht-r form- in se--oi:dary schools.) 
\Vilmot-Btixton: Maki-rs i>f Europe ... 3/6 (Methuen). 

brightly written. 'I lie bt->t text-book for 
pupils under 14. but needs to he supplemented 
k mi KiiLrli>h Hi-:- 

Britain as Part <.f Europe 1/6 (E. Arnold). 

leofl ..i Empii,- Mi (E. Arn..lih. 

(Tot." "Hi text-book for schools 

whox' pupiK p nerally leavi- at the i-nd of 
with tlie 
growth "f tlir ISriti-h V.r. 

- c..iitain nsi-t' 
f 'I'lii-st- ar- specially 



1. GEOGRAPHY has been well defined as the study of 
the earth in its relations to man. It forms 
Geography f ^e connecting l m ^ between nature know- 
ledge in the widest sense and the physical 
needs of man as an individual and as a member of society. 
Such a subject may well claim a place in the curri- 
culum of every school. Nothing is more calculated to 
remove insular prejudices than a study that brings home 
to the child his complete dependence upon world-wide 
activities, human and physical, which he cannot control, 
that makes him realise how many forces and how many 
hands have been at work, perhaps for months or years, in 
order to prepare the food which he eats and the clothing 
which he wears. As Emerson says : " The private poor 
man hath cities, ships, canals, bridges built for him. He 
goes to the post-office and the human race runs on his 
errands, to the book shop and the human race reads and 
writes of all that happens for him, to the court-house and 
nations repair his wrongs." 5 

Besides realising how much he is dependent on others 
for the physical necessities and luxuries of life, it is well 
that the pupil should feel to the utmost of his imagination 

1 By W. P. Welpton, B.Sc. 

2 Essay on Commodity. 



that 1 lie world contains other peoples differing widely in 
thought, in language, in systems of government, in 
ivliiriou, in aspirations and ideals; whose life tendencies 
lead in many diverging directions. To realise as fully as 
possible the chief characteristics, social, religious, political, 
ami commercial, of the peoples of the earth is to widen 
experience of Inn nan affairs, to know more fully what 
human nature is in its possibilities and limitations. With 
tli is broad sweep of his mind's eye, the pupil can view 
himself and his country in truer perspective. To know only 
ourselves is not to know ourselves. To limit our outlook 
to ourselves and our own immediate interests is to view 
life in the narrow field of a microscope, which, though 
magnifying the objects, limits the range, and so presents 
a view distorted in its relation to the world outside. To 
know ourselves we must know others ; as Emerson truly 
says : " A foreign country is a point of comparison where- 
from to judge his own." * 

In these ways geography affords the means of widening 
gradually the outlook of the pupil, until from an under- 
standing of the people and country around him he, through 
his imagination, extends his sympathies and interests to 
include the rest of the world; and the success of the 
teaching of geography may be gauged by the ease with 
which the transition is made, whereby the pupil becomes 
aware that, besides being a native of some English town 
"i village, he is also a citizen of the world. 

Geography, like nature study, is specially valuable in 
l.riii'_ r iiiu r the pupil into direct relations \\\\\\ his material 
environment, and so gives direction and meaning to his 
observations out of school. Almost everything he experi- 
ences gains a fresh meaning and interest when it is seen 
lying or illustrating some geographical principle 
iy CM i 


The dullest child will have come across something in his 
every-day life which is available in this way, and nothing is 
more likely to stimulate the young observer than to find 
fragments of information, which he has picked up here and 
there, taking their proper place in an organised system of 
knowledge. He may thus be led to see the value of keeping 
his mind open and alert with set purpose, and be trained 
not only to look, but to observe regularly and systemati- 
cally ; he will learn to regard his observations as means to 
the discovery of principles ; and he will experience a keen 
pleasure in applying each new principle to explain other 
facts, of the meaning and bearing of which he had hitherto 
been ignorant. 

The value of geography is, however, not confined to 
giving the pupil a rational appreciation of, and interest in, 
the phenomena of the physical world. The human out- 
weighs the physical in importance. By extending his 
knowledge of other peoples, by realising the difference 
between their lives and his own as well as the common 
brotherhood in both, and by learning how far he is ever 
dependent on them not only for physical necessities, lut 
for his language, his thought, his religion, his laws, he 
gains a broader and deeper view of all the important 
problems of spiritual and social life. His inborn sy mpat Mrs 
tend to narrowness ; his social activities move freely only in 
a narrow field, in the family circle and amongst his school 
companions. Gradually through intercourse with his 
elders, and perhaps through direct instruction, he realises 
to some extent that he is a member of wider communities. 
His sympathies broaden ; the purposes and ideals of his 
church, his nation, his smaller circle of political, social, 
and professional friends become his own. His activities 
expand and a fuller life of more varied social functions 
begins to manifest itself. 


To extend still further this life is the aim of the teaching 
of geography. The pupil's sympathies must not limit them- 
> to his own nation, nor his purposes and aims take 
account only of a narrowly patriotic good. Christianity 
teaches that all are brothers, and to all white, black, or 
yellow must the hand of fellowship and friendly interest 

Such a broad fellowship it is the work of 
the social or human side of geography to cultivate. To 
the teacher, geography must not mean simply the study of 
the earth ; it must be above all else a study that will give 
a broader and deeper knowledge of the peoples of the 
earth, such a knowledge as will find its expression in 
fuller, more serviceable and more human interests, and 
in an all-embracing sympathy that will lead to a more 
("inplete life. 

2. In the curriculum, geography occupies an intermediate 

position between the humanistic and the 
Othe^s'ifbiTcts naturalistic studies and possesses some of 

the characteristics of both. On the human- 
side it gives descriptions of peoples with whose place 
in civilisation history deals, and on the naturalistic side 
it shows the dependence of man on climate, soil, vegetable 
and mineral productions whose properties it is the place of 
nature Mudy to in\ .-1 In these wide-reaching 1. ear- 
ings on life then- is much to appeal to the sympathies and 
interests, and consequently to awaken the intellectual 
and social activities of the pupils. Every child is curious 
to understand the subjects \sith which geography deals, 
and nothing l>ut unintelligent teaching can quench that 

It is impossible to read history intelligently without a 

good knowledge of the topography of the 

di-tricls in which the events occurred and 

constant reference to a good atlas. Hut there is a more 


important relation than this. Try to imagine the effects 
that would have been produced on British history by the 
existence of a land connection with Europe ; then try to 
picture the history of Great Britain without the Welsh 
mountains, without the Southern Uplands and the High- 
lands of Scotland. The whole story of the relations of 
the various nations of North-west Europe would be 
fundamentally altered ; the nations themselves would not 
have been the same, and even the individual inhabitants 
would have had different characteristics woven into the 
very fibre of their being. 

The progress of civilisation, as seen in the history of 
Western Europe, has been in some measure determined at 
every stage by physical conditions, and this relation it is 
the duty of geography as an auxiliary to history to bring 
out fully and clearly. Fuller and truer knowledge of 
physical environment has nearly always resulted in 
changes, many of them momentous in the history of the 
world ; for increased knowledge of his physical surround- 
ings becomes for all practical purposes a new set of 
physical conditions influencing man's future progress. 

It is easy to multiply instances, such as the influence of 
the Mediterranean upon the development of western civili- 
sation, and the effect of the discovery of America and the 
Cape route to India in removing the centres of commerce, 
wealth, and enlightenment from Italy to the countries on 
the Atlantic seaboard. Such examples show most clearly 
how little understanding there can be of the fundamental 
problems of history without a thorough knowledge of the 
multitude of ways in which physical environment influences 
national and individual characteristics. If we ask to what 
circumstances some town or city owes its importance, the 
answer in the great majority of cases will be: Its geo- 
graphical position. Great campaigns have succeeded or 


failed as a result of the knowledge or ignorance of geography 
essed by the commander, and according to the tough- 
ness and nerve of the victorious soldiers assets of the 
nation to which they belong, hoarded up, it may be, during 
centuries of hard toil in an invigorating climate and upon 
a not too generous soil. 

Enough has been said to show that, for the sake of 
history, geography must deal with the influences of 
physical conditions upon man, and that the geography of 
a country should be taught side by side with the history 
of its people, to throw light on those material circum- 
stances that have influenced their welfare and have 
made for their larger or smaller share in the progress of 
the world. 

Of course, the important but difficult problems hinted 
at above should not form the subject of special lessons in 
primary schools, but they should be ever present in the 
mind of the teacher, so that the close interdependence of 
geography and history may be brought out in dealing with 
-acli particular country and its people. 

Some of the fundamental notions of physical geography 

will be obtained in the lessons in nature study, 

' such as simple observations on hills and 

valN-vs. rocks and streams, winds, clouds, and rain. And 

\\IMMI Ljro^raphy deals with the connection between climate 

and productions constant reference will be made- to the 

lessons on plants and animals and how they are influenced 

1>\ position, soil, and climate. 

Geography is an extremely wide subject; even 
Principles those portions of it which are adapted to the 

governing purposes of elementary teaching are so ex- 

Selection of tensive thai a careful selection of topics is 

necessar \ . 

Our -ni'lm- principl.-, in this as in all partfl t tin- 


school curriculum, will be the value of the subject-matter 

as an instrument of culture. The advan- 
Culture Value. , ,., i i ^ i i 

tages of travel m widening a man s outlook 

and enlarging his sympathies have long been recognised 
by all, though enjoyed by comparatively few. " Travel 
in the younger sort," says Bacon, "is a part of educa- 
tion; in the elder a part of experience." To study geo- 
graphy is to travel in imagination. The aim of teaching 
geography is to bring distant peoples and lauds near to 
those who stay at home ; to help the pupils to realise by 
means of descriptions, explanations, pictures, lantern slides, 
maps, and models what these foreign peoples are, and how 
they live; to picture not only the externals of life, the 
country, the occupations of the people, their towns, houses, 
and dress, but their inward lives, what they hold most true 
in thought, in worship, and in beauty all that is really 
human in life. 

In this way every people may read the pupils a lesson of 
something to avoid and something to emulate, something 
to condemn and something to admire and praise. Distant 
Japan and India will have their lesson equally with modern 
Germany and America, and in learning something of these 
old world civilisations the pupils may, perhaps, be led to 
reflect that the hurry and rush of America or the method 
and organisation of Germany have only accentuated one 
side of life to the neglect of others more highly prized in 
Eastern lands. 

On its physical side geography must picture the great 
forces of the world that man has turned to his use or 
tries in vain to overcome. Trade winds, ocean currents, 
the tides, volcanoes, hurricanes, river and sea action on 
land, the sun and moon these and their effects will be 
studied and, as far as the limited knowledge of the 
pupils will allow, explained. This aspect of the subject 


has also a direct value in leading the pupils to realise the 
physical conditions on which work or business depends, 
so that they may always be ready to adapt themselves to 
changing circumstances in the production and distribution 
of the commodities in which they are interested. 

The permanent value of the work done in school will 
be seen in two ways according as we look 

Subordination at t b e human or the physical side of geo- 

of Facts to r . *_ 

Principles. graphy. I ts human influence will show 

itself in an increased broadness of view, in 
a greater openness of mind, in a more sober and serious 
attitude on broad national and human questions, in a 
lisinclination to a superficial self-sufficiency and blatant 
s -It -advertisement. Such an effect is not measured by 
the number of facts that have been retained, but rather 
by the keenness and acuteness of interest in world 
questions, by the desire to read further and to get 
inn-eased knowledge of the races of the earth a desire 
which may lead the pupil, if opportunity permits, to see 
witli his own eyes more of the conditions of life both 
of his own people and of those of peoples in foreign 

un its physical side, too, a knowledge of facts and 
detailed pieces of information is of little worth. A 
knowledge of facts has value only when those facts are 
interpreted by principles that underlie them and give 
them \\ider, deeper, and more rational meaning. Such 
principles Kind into a rational unity experiences of seem- 
ingly widely difiVivnt character. The \alue. of the 
teach i n u r . then, will U> shown by the pupil's grasp of 
principle. |,y his p,wer to interpret ne\s proMems by 
means of them, and l.y his Keenness and aciiteuess in 
BearcliiiiL' IW evident--- to l"-ar out some proposed and 
possible expl.i 


That principles are more important than facts, and that 
facts are only of value when interpreted rightly by 
principles, is too often forgotten. Indeed, one of the 
greatest disadvantages under which the teaching of geo- 
graphy has laboured has been a misapprehension on the 
part of many of those engaged in teaching and examining 
it as to what children may reasonably be expected to 
know after six or seven years' instruction. Though 
many efforts have been made towards removing this 
difficulty in the last decade much yet remains to be 
done. In a course extending over several years, it is 
almost inevitable that details of many places of little 
importance will be given, and that much time will be 
spent in trying to memorise them. It is well known that 
much of the time thus occupied is wasted, because facts 
rapidly disappear from the memory unless they are of 
special interest or are given a place in a rational system of 
knowledge. In other words, the only facts likely to be 
long remembered are those upon which the principles of 
the subject have been built, and those to which attention 
is constantly given in every-day life. Facts required but 
rarely, or wanted only for special occasions, may easily be 
obtained from a standard gazetteer, atlas, or text-book, 
and may then very properly be forgotten again. Su<-h 
books of reference should always be at hand, and the elder 
pupils should be taught to use them effectively in con- 
nect ion with their reading of both geography and history. 

It will be well, then, to dismiss at once from the lesson 
on geography the laborious memorising of all facts which 
are not necessary to the steady progress of thought in the 
subject, on the lines of the scheme of study adopted. At 
the same time the teacher must beware of going to the 
opposite extreme and allowing the pupils to make generali- 
sations on insufficient data ; and, while sparing no pains 


to reduce the memory work to a minimum, he must make 
sure that this minimum is thoroughly learned. The study 
of no subject can attain anything either of breadth or of 
depth unless the chief facts and principles are thoroughly 
memorised as the learning advances. This, indeed, is one 
of the first conditions of success. If this is done, it will 
be found that the intrinsic interest of many facts of 
secondary importance will cause them to remain in the 
memory without effort. 

In considering the contents of a scheme of study in 

geography it is important to remember how 

Relation to closely geography may be related to the out 

out of school L i v* * a.v n 

Experience. * school life of the pupil. Even nature 

study has its limitations in this respect and 
cannot be so well adapted as social geography to the 
needs of schools in the largest industrial centres, in 
which the familiar knowledge of the pupils is rather of 
facts and relations of industrial and commercial life than 
< .1 t he w< .rks . .f nature. The method of teaching geography 
may. therefore, follow without strain the important ediu-a- 
ti-'iial principle which insists that the work of the school 
should be so related to the general life of its pupils as to 
give fulness of meaning and of interest to that life. But 
instruction should go still further. It should not only 
give added interest and fuller meaning to the general life 
!' the pupils, but it should lead them step by step to a 
higher and more complex life beyond. Thus, while the 
mode of approaching the subject at first will be deter- 
mined by the natural and social surroundings of tin- 
school, yet, growing out of this, the instruction must 
enlarge and deepen tin- mental ran-_r' i' the scholars by 
intn'ducm:; tin-in in imagination to problems of a higher 
and more complex character, in the understanding of which 
they will more clearly comprehend the varying phenomena 


of nature and enter more fully ami sympathetically into 
the lives of peoples widely different from themselves. 

The starting-point, however, is the life of the district, a 
life that must be viewed in all its aspects physical, com- 
mercial, and social. It cannot be expected that young 
children can enter into this life very fully or understand it 
deeply. Yet here is the beginning; for all knowledge 
grows out of experience, and knowledge is deeper and more 
real the more closely it is bound up with the most vivid 
experience experience that makes up the very warp and 
woof of daily life. Hence the pupils' earliest geographical 
knowledge should be of their own district, and afterwards 
should embrace other districts round about ; next their own 
country and the rest of the United Kingdom ; then Europe 
and North America, where the conditions of life are some- 
what similar to our own, and where the people are bound to 
us by many ties of blood, interest, language, and a common 
past ; eventually extending to districts whose peoples are 
more remote from us in interests and thought, and who 
touch our own lives at but few points. In this way the 
interests and sympathies of the pupils will gradually 
expand and embrace a wider and wider circle; yet all 
will be kept in relation to themselves, and much will 
ivivive meaning and interpretation through the knowledge 
gained by the careful study of the conditions and circum- 
stances of their own lives. 

The principle of building on the experience gained 
by a close study of the school district, valuable as it is, 
must not be carried too far. There is much in foreign 
lands and in the lives of foreign peoples that cannot Ije 
explained by reference to such experience. The races and 
religions of India and China, the black peoples of Africa, 
the great forests and prairies of America, the hot deserts 
of Asia are widely different from anything with which the 


pupils are familiar. They are in bold and striking con- 
trast to tin' every-day scenes of home. Much of the 
teaching of geography must consist in introducing the 
pupils to such strange scenes and to such new conditions 
f life, and many and various must be the devices used to 
secure that they realise them to the utmost of their power. 
To obtain a really sound knowledge of the fundamentals 
of geography, systematic and regular school excursions 
are necessary. The function of these should be to 
Matise and develop the interest of the pupils in what 
in-- on around them, so that on their walks they will 
note many things of social and natural interest. It is 
dear that the country school has many advantages in 
dealing with physical geography, while the commercial 
and social life around it is far less complex than is the case 
in towns. The difficulty in towns is that the details of 
social and commercial life crowd on the pupils in too great 
a profusion, while physical phenomena are obscured by 
miles of paved streets and rows of houses. The questions 
ial life, however, should be singled out one by one. 
The town hall, the policeman, the tramways, the public 
parks, the market, the railway station, and the multitude 
of shops are all external signs of a corporate life. The 
essential elements of physical geography should be studied 
in the public parks or in the immediate environs of the 
town. Though differing somewhat in the details, country 
and town geography in the main will follow the same 
general scheme. 

The study of geography, then, logins with the simple 
The Geo aphv I' n . vs ' ( ' :l ' :m 'l s '"' 1;l ' f:i''t* to l.e mrt with in 
of the Neigh- the immediate neighbourhood of the school. 
bourhood. ; , ni | ,l m -' m ^ the first ami se.-..nd \ears of the 

up]*-!- -! 1 the teaching \\ill l.e mainly confined to lead- 

the pupil* to ,1 ill about this area and 



to explaining in a simple way what they see. The invest!- 
gallon of the neighbourhood will not cease at the end of 
the second year. Much interesting and important work 
in the study of physical relations, of rocks, and of contour 
can only be done when the pupils are older. Indeed, 
the most valuable work in geology and in measuring 
ami representing contour should be left until the last 
year of school life. After the second year, however, 
I lir neighbourhood will cease to be the only geographical 
.-tiidy of the pupils. Larger and larger areas with 
more diversified material and conditions of life will be 
dealt with in succession, until the physical phenomena 
and peoples of llie whole world will in later years become 
the objects of study. 

In studying the district, resort should be made to class 
excursions. As has been already mentioned, a village 
school is better situated than a town school for geographi- 
cal excursions, though Hie latter should make the best use 
it can of its parks and environs, especially those in which 
M ivam, hill, and valley can be found. Fortunate indeed is 
the school where a compact valley with winding stream, 
waterfall, lake, alluvial flat, and hilly peaks can be found 
in a narrow compass and in the immediate neighbourhood. 
Not many excursions each year are necessary, and some of 
these can well be combined with those in connection with 
nature study ; others need only be short a half-hour to 
an hour in length just sufficient time to note some few 
definite particulars about hill- side or stream on which 
the teacher wishes the class to dwell. Every excursion 
should be carefully prepared for, so that the pupils know 
exactly the nature of the problems they go forth to try 
to solve; and on their return the information gained 
should be turned to definite use in the making of plan or 
model, or in a course of lessons on physical phenomena. 


Tli- ' need in the first two years of the teaching 

is to stimulate the pupils to observe carefully and to think 
about they have observed. They should see for 
themselves whatever is within reach. But the teacher 
shoul.l not hesitate to give simple explanations and addi- 
tional information when either will be of value. The 
r ot' conception and imagination of young children 
W that the teacher's main function will be to 
lead them t<> find in what they know or have observed im- 
sueli a Character that a little more careful 
: vat ion and thought will enable them to arrive at 
fuller knowledge, tiy suggesting unsolved problems whieh 
ime ever more and more difficult and numerous, the 
teacher should help them to gain the power of bringing 
what they Already know to aid in giving meaning to newly 
\.-d t'a.-ts, and of looking out for fresh facts to ex- 
emplify more fully explanations of well-known pheno- 

The tea-h-r should not try to clear away every difficulty 
'lit should endeavour to whet the children's 
Miri- i-j-^'sling that an observation, of which the 

drill i only partially apirehende<l, should be re- 

peated or enl'oiv.-d by other ob>.-rvat ions whi-h the tea-'her's 
sees that they have omitted to make. He 
,;! tell ju^t einm^h to Mi>lain their interest, but not 
more ; children re>cmbl- their gn.w n up l'riend.> very clely 
in caring little for what they ran MVIMV easily, but in pur- 
il-'iisly that whieh they .-an see a chance of 
obtaining by their o\\ n -lTorts. however -real may be tho 
diflieulties in the \\ 

In thi-, \\.iy theeorlj urk in jih_\>ical geography \\ill be 
t'oimd. -d upon the e.irlier n.itiiiv x(ud\ .ind \\ill 

u-.illy < -tit of them. The meaning of oommou 

j'-h a?> hill, \,i!ley, and ri\er will IA- 


familiar to the pupils, who will on the school excursions 
constantly meet with examples of them. 

It will be well to give in some detail an account of what 

should be done in the early study of physical 

ajcy geography before mapping is undertaken. 

The course of a river or stream forms a good 

starting-point. An example of a stream may be found 

almost anywhere within walking ran^e of the school; if 

< hildren cannot get into the country, streams may be found 

in the parks; as a last resource, an unpaved road or a 

piece of bare ground may be examined after a heavy 

shower, and will furnish examples true to nature of almost 

every kind of river action. 

All the pupils will have seen enough of a stream to 
know the most obvious facts about it that it consists of 
flowing water which keeps a definite channel, and that it 
flows from higher to lower ground. This implicit know- 
ledge should be made explicit by means of conversation 
lessons, and the children should express clearly their idea 
of t he essential qualities of a river. An obvious problem 
to suggest would be : Where does the water come from ? 
A stream should be observed in rainy weather and in dry 
weather, and the youn^ observers should be required to 
account for the difference noticed. Some of the water 
evidently comes from rain, as a greater or less amount of 
rain makes a corresponding difference in the amount of 
water in the stream. 

A further problem may be suggested by asking why any 
water comes down in dry weather. Some streams then 
dry up, whereas others only diminish in volume. The 
pupils should make a list of streams in the district which 
ha. vti lieen known to cease flowing in summer, and of others 
which continue to flow all the year round. It will be seen 
that the streams which do not dry up are the larger ones. 


But whence comes 1 heir supply of water ? Appeal is again 
made to nature: \Vlio has seeii the beginning of a stream ? 
What is it like'r A les>on on springs yields the facts that 
water oo/es out of the ground in many places, sometimes in 
just suhVient quantity to keep the ground damp, some- 
times bubbling out and forming a stream of moderate size. 
The volume of a spring will be found to vary, being greatest 
a little while after heavy rain and least in dry weather, 
when some springs actually disappear. In every case the 
spring gives rise to a stream, which, uniting with others, 
forms a larger and larger stream. Various terms, such as 
source, tributary, confluence, right and left bank, may here 
be introduced. 

The close connection discovered between streams and 
rainfall will direct the attention to winds and clouds. 
These should be observed daily, and the results tabulated 
and preserved: it should be noticed which are the warm 
win. Is and which the cold ; which winds are accompanied by 
rain and which are dry; what kinds of clouds are seen in 
windy weather, dry weather, showery weather, etc. Much 
may be said in favour of systematic observation of atmo- 
>].heric conditions throughout the whole of school life, with 
A to forming the habit of observing them. Such ob- 
servations can only IKJ systematic when the results are 
recorded in some definite form of weather diary. The sky 
may nearly always be seen, even in towns, and is alua\s 
beautiful; to accustom the children to see its beauties and 
to read its story will be to increase greatly their capacity 
t'or eiij,vment. 

To make clear the work done by streams, the water of a 
stream should U- examined in dry weather and after rain. 
It \\ill be found t<> !* clear in the former case and turbid 
in the latter. Colled a bot t le ,,f 1 in-bid water; allow the 
wat nd for somr time: the amount of >ediiiu-iii 


obtained will be a surprise to all. Where has iliis sedi- 
ment come from? Where is il going to ': Notiee how the 
stream cuts into its banks. What will be the result if this 
goes on for a very long time? Notice pebbles in streams. 
Why are some rounded? Why are not all rounded: 
Trace the history of a pebble of a grain of sand. -Notice 
where the stream enters a pond: a Hat stretch of mud is 
produced. Why is this? What will be the effect of this 
in the course of time ? 

Simple observations may be made of the apparent move- 
mcnts of the sun and stars. A stick about five feet Inn g 
should be pushed into the ground, and the variations in 
length and direction of the shadow of the stick cist by the 
sun observed regularly. A pe_j should be knocked into the 
-round to indicate the position of the shadow of the top 
of the stick, and observations made of the position of 1 he 
shadow at noon each day for a week. The constancy of 
this position will suggest using it for reference, and thus 
the positions of the cardinal points can be taught. In 
order that these may be well known, they should either be 
painted upon the ceilings of the class-rooms, or a weather 
vane, with the N., S., E., and W. points fixed, should be 
1 >laced either on the school buildings or at the top of 
a flagstaff in the playground. 

The above details are only suggestive of the kind of work 
\\hieh i- in be done by children at this stage; thc\ are n>t 
intended to be at all exhaustive. Models may easily be 
made of clay and sand, over which water can be poured to 
show the effects of denudation and deposition. Diagrams 
which, with a word written here and there, will a le-juatelv 
summarise the matter taught should be freely used. If 
this work is done thoroughly during the first and second 
years the pupils will secure at first hand much valuable 
know ledge which \\ill provide them with ideas to give 

iu\: MK <:K,, ;K \riiv 295 

fuller meaning and understanding to accounts of many 
physical phenomena in lisiant lands which can only be 
presented to the ima filiation through description aided 
li\ pictures and models. 

The more formal study of geography may be said to 

a as soon as a systematic attempt is 

Formal Study made to represent the positions of various 

P laces ou a ma P- li is not advisable to try 
to do this until sufficient knowledge of tho 
district has been gathered by means of excursions to make 
a map of it not only intelligible to the children, but also a 
means of summarising and expressing this knowledge in a 
convenient form. This will usualK not be until the second 

nsiderabh advanced. 

As the drawing to >cale of simple plans is really a part 
of elementary mathematics, and is, consequently, treated 
in the chapter on that subject, it is unnecessary to spend 
time at the beginning of the geographical course in doing 
work which has already been done. It is obviously not 
worth while to try to deal with distance and direction on a scale before a knowledge of simple computation and 
if iin-les has been obtained from the lessons in mathe- 
matics. It is. therefore, desirable that the pupils' work in 
geography should be confined to the study of the simple 
phenomena around them until their mathematical know- 
l.-dg,. will enable them to construct to scale plans of such 
familiar and .Dimply-formed places a the schoolroom and 
round. This kind . if exercise should be practised in 
lessons on mathemat i.-al drawing during the second 
year, and then an attempt can be made to represent on a 
map tin- -cli..<.l ;nid its surroundings, afterwards cxlend- 

illir the boiill'l liclllde such 1 I he mail) n 

,iiid '-hief buildings, and other important land- 

mark- vuthin | >iit a mile IVoin the -chool. 


In studying the contour of a district with a view to 
preparing a model or plan of it the class should be taken to 
some hill conveniently situated and from that vantage 
ground should examine the distances and directions of the 
principal landmarks. The teacher should have with him 
a larg- sheet of prepared black canvas, which he should 
spread out on the grass, and on which the various physical 
features and places of interest should be marked. Hound 
this canvas the children should be grouped so that they can 
conveniently be questioned as to the names, distances, and 
directions of the various points to be noted. At first they 
can only compare distances and heights very roughly, merely 
judging that such a distance is greater or less than another, 
or such a hill is higher or lower than another. Direction 
should be fairly accurately determined by means of th.- 
mariner's compass, on the use of which lessons must be 
given before excursions for examining contour can profit- 
ably be begun. The teacher, by judicious questioning, by 
tactful criticism of answers, and by drawing careful atten- 
tion to suitable modes of comparison, should encourage the 
pupils to represent on the sheet in a fairly accurate manner 
the district in view, and to indicate by suitable marks com- 
parative altitudes. 

When all is complete the plan thus prepared will become 
the subject of future study in class, and much additional 
and interesting information about the various places 
marked on it will be supplied by the teacher. The children, 
moreover, should be encouraged to discover in their private 
walks all they can about these places, and this information 
should be narrated by them for the benefit of the whole 
class. The map will be examined with a view to construct- 
ing from it relief models of the district. Each pupil should 
construct his own model, and it should then be examined 
carefully by teacher and pupil, so that the latter may 


note an<l correct his errors. Finally, plans should be 
drawn from the model, and a second short excursion be 
taken to the same hill. The plans should then be compared 
with the features seen, the errors noted, and additional 
particulars added. 

For further detailed class-room study of a district a 
prepared model should be brought before the class. This 
should have been made accurately from a six-inch Ordnance 
Survey map. The model can lie constructed by selecting 
cardboard whose thickness will represent the vertical dis- 
tance between two contour lines, and cutting pieces the 
' shape of each contour line. When these have been 
tixi'd one on the top of the other in appropriate positions as 
shown bv the contour lines in the map the whole struct ure 
will represent in relief the contour of the district. The 
stepped appearance made by the edges of the cardboard 
mav be removed by filing them down or by covering 
the whole with a thin layer of plasticene or prepared clay. 
On this model the main roads, streams, and places of in- 
terest should be marked in various colours. Such a model 
will IH of incalculable service in giving correct ideas of 
slope, relative distance, height. etc., and should be referred 
to constant ly when any lesson on I he district is in pro- 

MOW advanced and accurate work should he done ou the 
action of a stream. The fall in the stream should be 
P'Uirhlv measured by means of a spirit level and a string 
about twelve yards lonu: the varying rate of flow, the 
deflection "f 'h- main current from one bank t<> another, and 
the eddying ..f the water should be carefully noted by 
gpreadin- handt'uls ,.f bran or sawdust across the surface. 

i.-tual rate of j|o\v should I st i mated by stationing 

pupiU at <-.|iial dixtaii-<-s down the stream and noting ih> 
-II by the lloatin-j bran or -.ludu-t to ivach the 


successive points. The main current of the stream should 
be examined when it strikes a hard rock, high bank, or tree 
trunk, and the sandbank formed on the other side by the 
eddy carefully noted; this eddying and deflection of the 
course may be artificially produced by placing a large 
boulder in the stream or by damming half of it by means 
of a board. The difference in rapidity of the current in 
narrow pacts and in broad parts should be observed, and 
the result of narrowing il artificially should be tested by 

1 1 t here is no convenient stream in the neighbourhood, 
the action of rivers must be taught either by seizing the 
opportunity of examining a gravelly or sandy road after 
a IHMW rain or by t he help of a sand-tray. Indeed it is 
advisable to supplement and organise all the out-door 
\\orl\ on streams by means of this latter contrivance. The 
sand-tray should be at least four feet square, made of tin 
or /inc so as to hold water, and with a rim of not less than 
three or four inches deep. Large supplies of fine ami 
(...use sand and fine and coarse gravel are required. 
Almost all the effects of river action can be illustrated 
with such a tray if water be sprinkled by means of a verv 
fine rose on a model of sand and gravel. A model of a 
river basin should be constructed, and hard and soft strata 
should be represented by sand and gravel. The water as 
it flows down the slopes of the sand will wear out a bed; 
tributaries will join to form a main stream; waterfalls, 
cataracts and rapids will be formed over hard strata, and 
smooth flowing rivers over softer material. Pebbles may 
be placed at various points in the main bed of the stream, 
and the winding of rivers and the formation of islands 
will be exemplified. Finally, the growth of sandbanks and 
a delta will be shown at the point where the stream enters 
! he water at the bottom of the tray. 


As lias Kvii said, the study of (In 1 district will con- 
tinue after tli l scroll. 1 year, anl will become 
more ami more advanced in character. 
Specimens of rocks, fossils and strata as seen 
in quarries, gravel pits, exposed hill-sides, road or railway 
cuttings shoiil.l U- examined. The pupils should be prac- 
tised ill judging distances and heights with approximate 
i-acy by comparing them with well known distances or 
by pacing. A convenient standard of comparison is the 
distance between two successive telegraph posts. Distance 
may also be judged by means of the following device. If 
a long pencil he held upright at the length of the arm 
the appan-nt heights of various objects within range can 
IK- compared bv nio\in;_r the thumb up or down the pencil. 
If certain definite heights, such as that of a telegraph post, 
"inpared in this \\ ay for various known distances 
certiiin data will l>e obtained from which a rough estimate 
of distance can be inferred. 

I n the seventh year the definite and accurate surveying 
of a sin ill area can be carried out; and direction, distance 
and height accurately measured. The Ordnance Survey 
map of this district can then be studied, and the pupils 
made familiar with the representation of altitudes bv con- 


Th.- meaning and use of contours may l.e taught in 
the following manner. A watertight tray is required and 
a supply -f pl:i-;icene. Jt would l>o well if each pupil 
i have a tray for himself an ordinary tin dish about 
."iild serve iidmirall\ . A model of a hill, prefer- 
ably a hill in the neighbourhood, should then be made. The 

id.-d ; a slop,, of :;n t'nun 

tli.- \erliciil uoiild U- |, M- ,1 hill. The avoid- 

ance of exaggeration in vertical reli.-f is one of the nio>t 
a vtiid.-lit of gi'o^raplix call leal'll. The 


tendency to such exaggeration is encouraged by the fact 
that generally when a section across a country, continent, 
or ocean l.asin is published the vertical scale is ten, twenty, 
or even a hundred times the horizontal. Quite commonly 
the real slope of the land is so slight, even in crossing so- 
called mountains and hills, that without considerable 
exaggeration of the vertical scale the elevations would 
scarcely be noticeable on a sectional drawing. 

The hill having been modelled so that the top does 
not appear higher than the sides of the tray, place the trav 
level and pour in water to a depth of a quarter of an inch. 
Measure the depth of the water by holding a ruler vertically, 
with one end resting on the bottom of the tray. Notice 
where the water surface cuts the hill and scratch on th<> 
hillside with a needle along the junction line ; pour in water 
up to half an inch in depth and make another scratch round 
the hill ; then up to three-quarters of an inch and so- on. 
If a quarter of an inch be allowed to represent one hundred 
feet, the hill will be marked with a series of lines each of 
which represents an altitude of one hundred feet above 
tlio line next below. 

Now pour off the water and sketch roughly a plan of 
the contour lines ; they will be represented by a series of 
rude rings, the smallest near the top of the hill and the 
others successively enclosing each other. Next cut verti- 
cally through the model of the hill with a sharp knife and 
observe the section after removing half the hill. Represent 
the section line on the contoured plan. Then, by taking 
distances along the line of section, raising perpendiculars 
where the section line cuts each contour line, making the 
perpendiculars a quarter of an inch above the base line for 
every hundred feet and joining the points so obtained, a 
curve will be obtained which will be of the same shape as 
the cut surface of the m< '<!<!. This may be proved by 


cutting the paper section along the curve and fitting it to 
the model. 

This process may be repeated with more complex models 
of plateaux, valleys, and detached hills; the pupils in 
every case drawing a plan of the model and contour lines, 
making a section of the model and a corresponding 
>n from the plan, and fitting the two together. They 
should then be able to draw sections to scale across any 
district, of which the contoured plan is given the teacher 
beiiiu r careful not to present too many difficulties at 

The next step would be to model a simple district when 
its contour lines are given, by drawing sections in various 
directions and making a model. The result should then 
be proved by filling the tray with water, scratching a con- 
lour line on the model at each level and comparing with 
the original plan. It is a very interesting experiment at 
tli is stage to give the pupils a contoured plan of the school 
district, which can easily be obtained from the maps of the 
< >rd nance Survey on the scale of six inches to one mile, and 
without ^iviiiLr any names allow them to draw sections 
>s it and prepare a plasticene model. Then see how 
manv of them can recognise the district from the model. 
urse. this can not be done if the district is at all coin- 
pl \ in its contour. 

The contoured Ordnance Survey maps of the district 
and Bartholomew*! maps, with coloured contours, on the 
scale of two mil<'> to the inch for larger areas, miirht now he 
used for exercises in drawing sections until the pupils are 
able to interpret a contoured map wit ha fair decree of ease 
reading at a gin : slopes \\li.-re the contours are 

clou* r ; penile -l..p.^ \\hnv they an- separated 

Considerably; hills when- th.-y are concentric rin-s ; and 

valleys where tli-\ ,.ip-d , u^ finding explanation! 

302 THE TEACHING OF GE< <;I.-.M'II v. 

of the directions taken by roads and railways in the 
relative positions of the contour lines. 

In spite of their difficulty a few sections of the school 
district to true scale may be attempted by the most ad- 
vanced pupils ; and the teacher would do well to prepare a 
few very carefully drawn sections of the school district to 
true scale to hang on the walls for them to see at any 
time. This should be done after they have ceased to 
make sections themselves of the same district. 

It must not, however, be forgotten in the detail with 
which the physical aspect of the district has 
8pec * been considered that the human aspect is of 
at least equal importance. On this side of the hist ruction 
the social, industrial, and commercial relations of the 
people of the district should be examined and made 
definite and clear. In this elementary sociological study 
the notions of the dependence of each person on his 
fellows and of the manifestations of a corporate life in 
which ct >mmon purposes are pursued for the common 
good will begin to take definite shape and form. 

As has been already mentioned, village life presents a 
less complex human problem than the life of a large in- 
dustrial centre. The squire, the clergyman, the school- 
master, the farmers and their labourers, the village 
shopkeeper, the blacksmith, the joiner, the bootmaker 
each is dependent on each for some kind of service. 

From the interdependence of the elements of the villa-*' 
community the pupils should pass to the dependence of the 
village on the nearest market town. Village produce goes 
to the town ; town productions come in exchange into 
the village. The fortunes of each should be traced. The 
farmer and his labourers grow the corn, and ivar sheep 
and cattle. These are sold at the market town. The 
miller, the butcher, the tanner, the glue-maker follow. 


Finally the goods are traced into the hands of the con- 
sumer, and in some part perhaps lind (heir way back 
again t the village as flour, meat, shoes, and woollen 
clothes. Similarly, the fortunes of the tea, coffee, knives, 
eotton and linen goods, and other articles of the household 
economy that are brought into the village from without 
should 1*3 traced. Here is plenty of material upon which 
the imagination may be exercised. Clear, graphic, full 
and detailed deM-riptions should be given so that the pupils 
form living and realistic images of the various kinds of 
work in which so many people are engaged and through 
which the raw produce of the village and of foreign climes 
is transformed into articles of every-day use. Pictures, 
sk.-tches, and, where possible, specimens of products in 
successive stages of manufacture should be freely used. 

The interchange of goods between town and village leads 
naturally to the consideration of the means of communica- 
tion, such as roads, railways, and canals, and of the HUM MS 
of interchange, such as carriers, markets and shops, 
u these the pupils can proceed to realise in imagination 
the more complex life of the market town. 

In studying many of the commercial relations sketched 

above, attention will be drawn to objects and work of 

a i .ublic character. The roads, their making and keeping 

in repair, the postal service for the delivery of letters, the 

village constable, reading room and lilirary, the parish 

councils, an- all signs of a community life. The relations 

osetoeach individual should he made dear, and such 

notions should year by year become more definite and 

exact and should receive enlargement as the pupils pass 

the consideration of their >\s n district to the studv 

u and oili,-r nat i 

tmeiit of village life indicate., the I'm, 
\\hich the teaching of the more complex life ,.f a to\\u 


should develop. In a town commercial and social activities 
exist in such abundance and are so inter-related. that the 
child is at first overwhelmed with confusion in an attempt 
to unravel them. The chief characteristics, however, 
should be emphasised, especially those which are brought 
strikingly under his daily notice, and those which have 
plain concrete embodiment in some building or object 
that can be examined. The life in factory, mill, warehouse, 
office, and shop, and the characteristic occupations of the 
people should receive attention. The life-history of cotton, 
wool, flax, iron, or whatever be the staple raw material 
used in the local industries should l^e traced, and various 
stages in the manufacture of the final product shown by 
HUMUS of specimens. The chief roads, with their tram- 
ways or 'buses, the railways, canals or river as means 
of communication between the parts of the town, or 
between town and town should be dealt with; and the 
town hall, municipal buildings, law courts, public library and 
reading room, recreation grounds and parks, tramways, 
churches and schools should receive attention as evidences 
of corporate life. The whole teaching will refer con- 
tinually to the pupil's daily experience, which should be 
enlarged by suitable excursions and by graphic descrip- 
tions and pictures. This, as the work progresses, should 
find an expression in a map made by each pupil, which 
will serve as a partial summary of his knowledge of the 

5. The district having been studied on its physical and 
human aspects, the next stage in the teaching 

A more j s to examine a larcrer area, so that more 


Area. diverse physical and social conditions may 

be brought before the pupils. This can 
usually be begun with the third year. Fortunate is 
the teacher whose school lies in a geographical area 


having types of many different physical features and 
various human circumstances. The county of Yorkshire is 
such an area, containing, as it does, a broad alluvial 
plain with its winding river ending in a deep and wide 
estuary ; mountainous and moorland districts with narrow 
river valleys in both the west and the north-east ; a varied 
coast line giving examples of bold headland and shingly 
cap, river harbour and sea harbour ; types of pasture 
land with a population scattered in isolated hamlets, of 
arable land with numerous villages, and of an industrial 
area on a coal and iron field, the population of which is 
largely engaged in the manufacture of woollen and iron 
goods; while its county town of York is an excellent 
medium for introducing to the pupils the more striking 
and simple features of an old world city with its walls, 
cathedral, abbey, and guildhall. 

Each part of such an area should be examined in suffi- 
cient detail to give a full, clear, and vivid picture of the 
chief kinds of physical features, and the occupations and 
varying circumstances of life of the people in industrial 
centre, agricultural village, isolated hamlet, sea port, and 
tishing town. No attempt should be made to present 
ideas of these by means of abstract definitions. Defi- 
nition, as has been frequently stated, is of gradual growth, 
ami should be the end and not the lx i u r i lining <>l knowledge. 
Definitions have all the more meaning it arrive. 1 at through 
a wealth >f varied particulars. 1 Hence the parts of thi^ 
area should l>o piv>.-nted l.\ means <!' all kinds of devices 
pictures, sketches, models, dest-rij.ti.>n, stories, lessons on 
the animal, vegetable, ami mineral products ment:oned 
in a wealth !' vrr.i|ilii- detail, so that the rhildren will, 
in imagination, really live m the places described 
enter with full .sympathy into the dillirulties. har,Miij.>, 

/ V,, Loyical ffaees of I \ <\ . '221 -9. 

TO. -J< > 


landers, and work of those who, in this way and that, toil 
un the sea, or labour in mine or noisy factory to supply 
their numerous wants. 

Only the chief and most interesting characteristics of 
each district in the area will be described. Thus, in 
dealing with western Yorkshire, the bleak mountainous 
uplands of the Pennines, the scattered hamlets of the 
shepherds in charge of the mountain sheep, the beauty of 
the river valleys with their waterfalls and woody slopes, 
and often with the lonely and sheltered abbey sleeping by 
the banks, and the warden castle guarding the entrance, will 
be the main human interest ; while the action of water <>n 
hard and soft rocks, the formation of waterfalls, the winding 
of the stream, the flooding by heavy rainfall, the carry in L: 
of material by the river, either in solution or suspension, 
will be the chief physical topics of interest. 

In passing to the coast no better starting-point can be 
found than Scarborough. Here will be found lines of 
hills projecting into the sea as headlands, and bays 
corresponding to the valleys. The action of the waves 
on hard and soft rocks, and the formation of shingle 
and sand, can be considered. Of human interest the 
fishing town with its harbour sheltered from the north- 
easterly gales, the life on a deep-sea fishing fleet with its 
hardships and dangers, the life-boat and rocket- station, 
the ruins of the mediaeval castle on the scar at the foot of 
which the town grew in size and importance, the spa, 
promenade, gardens, and sea drive, which evidence the 
fashionable health resort, will all be presented in picture 
and description. 

Passing down the coast, contrasts rapidly present them- 
selves. The precipitous limestone cliffs of Flamborough 
can be compared with the softer earth and clay cliffs t<> 
tho north and with 1he low foreshore to tin- south which 

THE TEACHINO OF GEOGRAPHY. 807 iii 1lio long, low, shingly point of Spurn. The light- 
es at Flamborough and Spurn will suggest other 
dangers of the sea. The Huinber offers a different scene 
a busy river port for emigrants, trade, and fishing; and 
the advantages of a river over a sea harbour can be well 
illustrated by contrasting Hull with Scarborough. The 
deposition of suspended matter at the mouths of rivers 
and the formation of sandbanks here find exemplification, 
and the use of buoys and dredgers will be noted. 

In a similar detailed manner the main characteristics of 
igricultural area of the plain and of the industrial 
n the coal and iron fields will be treated, and the 
whole will be summarised and brought into a connected 
system by lessons on the road, rail, and canal communi- 
ns between part and part, and on the exchange of 
goods between district and district. In a general 
way work of a public nature will be illustrated by the 
keeping up of main roads, the maintenance of the coast- 
guards and lighthouses round our coasts, and the pro- 
i of the means of education from village school to 

hout the study of the whole area, such simple 
es of historical events as appeal to pupils of lhi> 
>huld be told in connection with places or districts thai 
are being described. We have already mentioned the im- 
portance of treating York as a type of an old world town, 
in this connection tales of the incursions of the Danes, 
onquest by William the Norman, the great siege of 
York during the Civil War, and the battle of Marston 
Moor may fittingly be narrated. 

A good model is needed throughout the whole of this 

..lit line sketch map should be used side by 

with it and tilled in joint by point as the teaching 

progress's, the din.-r.-ni kind* <>f ! marked 


by various coloured chalks. The pupils should also sketch 
maps and fill them in as the teacher's map is compiled. 
Care must be taken to compare, with regard to size and 
position, remote places with those already studied. To 
make sure that the new scale is grasped the school district 
formerly examined should be outlined in red on the map of 
the larger area. A scale of miles should be constructed <>n 
each map and the pupils should have frequent practice 
in calculating from measurement the distance from place 
to place, and in realising this distance clearly by judging 
how long it would take to walk it or to go by train. 

Several maps should be sketched by the pupils so that 
they may become thoroughly familiar with the outline and 
main features. These maps may be most fruitfully used 
by marking the chief physical features and chief towns in 
each and then putting the names of manufacturing districts 
in one sketch, roads, railways, and canals in another, mining 
and agricultural areas in a third, and so on. In this wa.y 
the sketch maps serve as a convenient summary for a large 
amount of geographical knowledge, and maps will gradually 
mean more and more to the pupils, so that, as time goes 
on, they will gain the power of so interpreting a map as 
to gain from it much knowledge concerning the physical 
aspects of the country and the conditions of the people. 

The extension from the school district to a larger, but 
neighbouring, geographical area is not always advisable. 
It must be borne in mind that the larger area must be a 
geographical unit and not an artificial county area, and 
it must provide very varied material for study. Expan- 
sion from a midland town to a midland county may 
bring very few new features into the study, and then it 
would only lead to the verbal memorising of a number of 
names of places in the county. Where suitable enlarge- 
ment is impossible it is better to pass direct from the 


>cho,.J di strict to the consideration of the whole country, 
treating one geographical area, such as the Pennine slopes 
or the south-west peninsula of Somerset, Dorset, Cornwall, 
and Devon, in considerable detail in a manner analogous to 
that already indicated in dealing with Yorkshire. 

6. Tlic remainder of the third and fourth years should 

be occupied in the study of the British Isles. 
Isles * ^ * s rllst " mar y to teach the three kingdoms 

separately, but there seems to be no reason 
for this except tradition, whilst there are very many reasons, 
some of them overwhelming in force, for considering them 
as a whole. Many geographical areas in the three king- 
doms ar- >!'nilar. The southern district of Scotland is, in 
physical features and in industries, very like the north of 
!and. The Lake district, North Wales, the southern 
Highlands, the Killarney country and Connemara pre- 
sent many features in common, and in teaching should be 
classed as similar areas, so that a detailed description of 
one may stand in many particulars as a type of the others. 
'l'li- main justification, however, for teaching the three 
kingdoms as a unit lies in their commercial and political 
relat ions. If we would form a rational conception of Brit ish 
industrial aivas and commercial rent res the Clyde valley 
and Ulster must be included, and such ports as Glasgow 
and Belfast are an integral part of our commercial system. 
In considering the lines of communication it is the height 
of absurdity to stop short at Carlisle and Berwick on 
the northern routes, at Liverpool, Holyhead, Heysham, 
d. and New Mil ford on the western, because these 
places ha; be on the boundaries of England, and not 

to proceed ^i mi-lit on to (ilasgow, Kdinlturgh, and Aber- 
deen, or to Belfast, Dublin, Cork, and (.^ueenstown, which 
are equally parts of the routes, although they have not the 
privilege of iN-ing within the English borders. 


It is a common plan in text-books to begin the chapter 
on the British Isles with lists of mountains 
Connections be- and hills, rivers, capes, bays, seaports, and 
^pectiTof T 8 industrial centres, and this order of topics 
District. and mode of treatment have become some- 

what traditional in the teaching of geo- 
graphy. It is not unusual for a pupil in his third year to 
start with Flamborough Head, and recite by heart the capes 
in their order of occurrence, until St. Bees Head marks the 
completion of the weary round. Whatever may be con- 
venient in a text-book, such an order and mode of treat- 
ment is utterly unsuited to any teaching which aspires to 
something more rational than the exercise of verbal memory 
as the form of learning. Such modes of teaching are ir- 
rational, unnatural, and powerless either to satisfy intel- 
lectual curiosity or to awaken human interest. We have 
already insisted that the child's aesthetic and social 
nature should be provided with food on which it may 
be nourished and matured. Such food does not consist 
in names of places or towns, or in lists of industries, 
populations, and occupations, but in presentations of scenes 
of beauty and grandeur, and in pictures of the difficulties 
and dangers, hardships and trials, work and conditions of 
life of all those people in our land who, in some way or 
other, contribute to the needs of each of us, and who by 
common interests and purposes and aspirations are united 
with us in the bond of nationality. Intellectual curiosity 
can but shrivel and die if fed on such food as names of capes 
and bays and mountains. The things themselves must be 
made to live, and the rational relations between thing and 
thing must unite all into a connected system. 

Mountain systems, river systems, and coastal features 
hold definite relations to each other. The character of the 
headlands is influenced by the land contour, which also 


<U't ermines the direction, rapidity, length, and general 
nature of the rivers. The lie of the mountains and valleys, 
whether parallel to the coast or abutting on it, decides the 
formation of the inlets and capes. The kind of rocks, 
whether soft or hard, affects the character of the coast 
line, determines the depth and rapidity of the rivers and 
the nature of their beds, and the goodness, poorness, and 
amount of soil; and all these are factors in the conditions 
under which the people of the district live. For example, 
in the eastern slope of the Pennines, the rolling nature of 
the country in Northumberland and Durham give an un- 
even coast line, and no hills prevent the direct flow of the 
Tyne, Wear, and Tees to the sea. In the Yorkshire area, 
ridges of the North York Moors and Yorkshire Wolds 
project as headlands, and these hills, with the Lincolnshire 
Wolds, prevent the direct access to the sea of the tribu- 
taries of the Ouse and of the Trent, which, combining, 
1-ivuk through a gap in the wolds and form the Humber. 
Tin- low fore-shore and the comparatively soft clay and 
earth rocks of the eastern coast, when acted on by the sea, 
present a more or less even coast line, unfavourable 
for good sea harbours. The long eastern slope of the 
Pennine and the extensive basins of the Ouse and Trent 
originate deep and slow rivers, that give a natural a 
tar into the heart of Yorkshire and Nottingham, and allow 
tin-in when combined to flow to the sea as a deep and wide 
try which provides an excellent port, accessible at every 
of the tide. 

When taught in t heir relation to each other such feat mvs 
ol' the count rv appeal to t lie pupils' eiiriosily and desire for 
explanation. Kach feature lindn its plaee in a connected 
and rational system which coheres in the mind as a 
whole. Instead, therefore, of mere verbal memory Umg 
required, an organised and rational system of knowledge 


must be intelligently constructed. No doubt, names must 
be learnt, and facts must be memorised. There must be 
repetition and revision. But monotony should be avoided. 
Fresh interest and keen attention should be secured each 
time by approaching the old problem from a new point of 
view, and by bringing some fresh form of activity into play. 

The rational connection between mountains, rivers, coast 
features, 'and conditions of life of the people 
Separate Study suggests that, in the detailed study, the 
British Isl es zbouia not be considered as 
a whole, but as a collection of definite geo- 
graphical areas. These connections can then be made 
thoroughly apparent. Consequently the first step in the 
teaching will be to mark out clearly the main geographical 
areas by an analysis of the build of the British Isles as 
represented in a good and large model. 

Such areas will be : The Eastern slope of the Pennines ; 
the Western slope of the Pennines ; the Lake District ; East 
Anglia ; the Thames valley ; the Weald, with the North and 
South Downs ; the South-west Peninsula of Somerset, 
Dorset, Devon, and Cornwall ; Wales ; the valley of the 
Severn; the Lowlands of Scotland; the Southern High- 
lands ; the Northern Highlands ; the basin of the Shannon ; 
the South-east corner of Ireland; the North-east corner 
of Ireland; the Western hills of Donegal, Galway, and 
Mayo ; and the South-west corner, including Kerry, Cork, 
Limerick, and Waterford. 

The main characteristics of these areas having been 
noted and compared, the teaching should pass on to de- 
velop each in detail. The order in which they are taught 
should be decided by such considerations as the situa- 
tion of the school, which district will give the greatest 
variety of material for initial detailed study, and which 
is best known to the teacher from personal acquaintance. 


Districts similar in character should be studied in close 
succession, so that descriptions of one will be in some 
measure typical of the others, and so that the various parts 
of our islands will be linked together by associations of 
similarity and contrast. 

The physical aspect of the area should first be grasped 
and should be accurately represented by a large plasticene 
model placed on one half of a large board, the remaining 
half being used for a sketch map of the same size, to 
be filled in as the teaching progresses. As has been 
already indicated, care should be taken to emphasise 
the relations between land contour, rivers, and coast line. 
Next should follow the climate, vegetable and mineral 
productions, leading on to the occupations and lives of the 
people and the chief centres of population. 

As a preliminary to the consideration of climate there 
should be some direct observation of the weather of the dis- 
trict in which the school is situated. Such observations 
should extend over many months, and now and again 
.*houM receive systematisation by a lesson on the subject. 
Direction of wind, temperature, clouds, and rainfall are 
tin- chief things to be noticed. Which are the prevailing 
winds, which are cold, which warm, which bring rain, and 
which arc dry, which are the wet months and which the 
dry, what is the time for mists and fogs, should all 
IN- noted. Such ol.servations form a good nucleus from 
\\hich to expand the pupil's notion of climate. 

Very little explanation of climatic conditions can be 
at this stage, though the effects ..f mountains and 
of winds can be appreciated. The influence of winds blow- 
ing from warm and large oceanic area* should receive 
special attention, and should !.< made intelM-iMc l>y a few 
lessons on evaporation and condensation. But the pupils 
mainly need to acquire a large number of particular 


i tic; is concerning the differing climates in the South and 
the North of England, Scotland, and Ireland. These ideas 
should be made living by as many and as varied illustra- 
tions as possible by reference to the kind of vegetation, 
the difference of the seasons of the year at different places, 
the migrations of birds, the positions of health resorts, and 
any other interesting details which will make real the 
nature of the climate and its influence on the habits of the 
people. Thus will be laid a ground-work of particular 
experiences from which, by comparison and contrast, the 
climates of foreign countries can afterwards be realised 
more effectively, and from which at a still later stage 
fundamental conceptions of the causes and effects of 
climate can be inferred. 

As the pupils advance in intellectual grasp much more 
can be attempted in bringing out the ways in which 
physical conditions influence vegetation and the occupa- 
tions of the people. They will readily appreciate how the 
warmth and moisture of prevailing winds make for luxu- 
riant vegetation when soil conditions are favourable, and 
how the presence of coal and iron beds or the existence of 
a large and deep estuary in a great measure determines 
the occupations of the people. They should then pass on 
to consider, in a simple and elementary manner, how the 
kinds of rock characteristic of a district determine the 
nature of that district. Chalk hills, soft sandstone, hard 
granite, and alluvial soil have each characteristic land 
contours and vegetation. 

The bare crags of the Cumbrian heights, with their 
scanty vegetation, the rolling grass hills of the Downs, the 
heather moors of the Yorkshire Pennines, and the ^r. 
moors of the Peak district are explained by the nature of 
the rock in each area. The relation between them can 
readily be shown to pupils of this age, if such well-known 


as granite, chalk, limestone, clay, and sandstone be 
rxamim-d. Fnuu their structure much can be inferred 
with respect to the effects of rain and frost in wearing 
t IK 'in away and so forming suitable soil for the growth of 
plants. Those elementary ideas in geology will receive 
considerable extension when in later years the pupils begin 
the study of Europe and of the world. Volcanoes, volcanic 
rocks, the formation of aqueous rocks and mountain chains, 
and the denudation of the earth's surface will then be 
tivatrd. and certain geological principles will be enunciated 
that will give interest and unity to many geographical 

Tin- social aspect of the area having been examined, there 
remains what may be called the historic aspect. Much 
of this may be taught incidentally during the lessons on 
the physical and social aspects. Whenever abbeys, castles, 
or old towns are mentioned they should be dwelt on, and 

i pies of them should be shown in picture or in lantern 
slide. Important and interesting historic incidents should 
be narrated in a simple and graphic manner. Hereward 
thr \Yakr will be associated with the Fens; Drake ami 
_:li with Devon; the castles of the north, Flodden 
Fit-Id aii.l Chevy Chase with the Cheviots, and so on. 
Names of places should receive great attention, as they 
illustrate many points of history in an interesting manner. 
Avon and ouse, pen and dun, worth, borough ami ham, 
1'V, wick, and ford will tlu-n mean something in tin- history 
of tin- land. Mr. Taylor's excellent book on Words and 
Places should !>' known by every teacher, and such infor- 
mation as is there stored up should be brought into flip 
teaching f m.iK.- lli<- v-ry names of mountain, sin-am, and 
i historic valua At least one old city with a 
wealth of mediaeval remains should 1> vividly set before 

pupils by means of story, description, and pictiuv 


which not only the old buildings but many interest ing 
features in the lives of our ancestors should be sketched in 
simple and bold, yet graphic, outline. 

The beautiful scenery of the area should be so pre- 
sented as to arouse the aesthetic appreciation of the pupils. 
Nothing here can be so effective as lantern slides well usM. 
Many slides are not necessary. On the contrary they are a 
hindrance to successful learning ; for a quick succession of 
pictures leaves only a confused blur on the mind. Each 
picture should be dwelt on and talked about from this 
aspect and from that. Slides should be shown again and 
a -a in and compared with each other as to the beauties 
of mountain, valley, and lake, and woodland. A teacher 
who has visited many of the scenes of grandeur, beauty, 
and charm in our islands and has dwelt on them lovingly, 
or who, though unacquainted with them by travel, can, 
through reading and the study of pictures, describe the 
grandeur and sublimity of the rugged peaks of Wales, the 
calm beauty of the English lakes, the wild and rugged 
coast of Tintagel, or the peaceful repose of a Worcester- 
shire village, will make these places live in the minds of the 
pupils. With such pictures in their imagination the teacher 
may call on the poets to lend him aid, and beauties hitherto 
unseen will be revealed. 1 

Each area having been pictured, the British Isles should 
again be studied as a whole, but now a whole 
The British o f vas tly more meaning and life than that 
Whole. with which the teaching began. The scat- 

tered facts of each area will now be brought 
together into a system. The industries and commerce, the 
chief lines of communication by road, rail, and sea, London 
as a centre of national life, and the sea and land forces 

1 Cf. pp. l<i-J:J. 


that protect our islands will be the main ideas round which 
the teaching will centre. 

The teaching of the industries, commerce, and lines of 

communication can well be prefaced by a 
Industries, . . - , T . .. * .a ,.,*', 

Commerce, and brier but clear description ot industrial and 

Lines of Com- commercial England before the age of steam 
changed the centres of population from tin- 
South and East to the North and Midlands. The pupils 
should know in broad outline of the great woollen trade of 
mediaeval England, of the introduction of various industries 
i'r'iu the Continent, of the manufacture of goods by hand 
in the homes of the workers, of the pack-horses and pack- 
horse bridges, of the great fairs, and of the visits of the 
Herts of Venice and Genoa. The conditions that made 
for modern industrial and commercial centres should be 
examined. The pupils should see hand work replaced by 
machine work, road and canal by rail, the sailing ship by 
the steamer, and thus realise that coal and iron fields and 
nearness of access to a port are now-a-days conditions of 
industrial greatness. They will trace the rise of such 
towns as Liverpool, Glasgow, Belfast, Newcastle, and 
Middlesbrough, and the comparative decline in iinport- 

>f places like Bristol, Eye, and Bideford 
In presenting a rational account of the industrial mitres 
of tin- r.ritish Isles the important coal and iron fields should 
be marked by shading on sketch maps, and then the 
i instances that make each area a cotton, woollen, 
hardware, shipbuilding, pottery, or other centre should 
be considered. The chief industrial and commercial 
characteristics of each area should be studied, and the 
pupils will U- interested in learning something of the 
processes l>y which many articles are made, while tin- 
conditions ot lit,, of the people engaged in cadi industry 
ild take a prominent place in the teaching Not ma UN 


towns need be considered, and only the most important 
in each industrial area should be placed 011 the pupils' 
sketch maps. These should be thoroughly committed to 

As an aid to grasping the industrial centres as a whole, 
industrial areas should be compared, and those similar in 
character should be grouped together. The shipbuilding 
on the Clyde, Tyne, Thames, and at Barrow, Belfast, and 
Devonport should be contrasted. The industrial area <f 
the Clyde should be compared with those of Yorkshire, 
Lancashire, and the Tyne. By means of such comparisons 
and contrasts the pupils will appreciate more clearly the 
many and various conditions that make for industrial 
success. They will begin to understand that geo- 
graphical features are of great moment in deciding where 
a great port or a great industrial town will grow up, and 
will see that sometimes the raw produce is brought to the 
coalfield and at others the coal is brought to the raw produce. 

The areas devoted to crops and to pasture should be 
dealt with in a similar manner, and the fishing stations 
and the migration of the fishing fleets furnish an important 
and interesting topic. 

The study of the communications by land and sea will 
naturally follow that of the industrial and commercial 
centres, and here the position of London as the business 
centre of the British Isles must be noted. Its vast shipping, 
its numerous industries, its teeming population should be 
described, and its financial and business connection with 
every industrial and commercial area in the country made 

It will soon be evident that as the centre of English 
business life London must be the centre of the net\\<-; 
communications that bring it into connection -wiili * 
part of the British Isles and every part of Europe and I lie 


World. Tho pupils should infer where the main lines of 
communication in the British Isles will pass, by consider- 
ing the circumstances of each area and by examining the 
contour of the country from a good orographic map or 
model. It will be seen that in the main the railways 
follow the ancient and natural lines of communication. 
One runs into Scotland up the broad vale of York, and 
thence neiir the coast to the gap between the Cheviots and 
tin- sea and so to Edinburgh; another up the coast strip 
of Lancashire through the passes of the Cumbrians and 
the Carlisle gap to Glasgow. The Irish route follows 
generally the old Watling Street to Chester, thence by the 
sea coast to Holyhead and across the Irish Sea to Dublin. 
The system of land and sea routes that bind the various 
areas in the three kingdoms into an industrial and com- 
mercial unit should be considered as a whole; only so can 
the British Isles be grasped as a single national and indus- 
trial organism. 

But only a vague conception of the commerce of the 
British Isles can be reached without some knowledge of 
tin- \v..rld as a whole. Undoubtedly it is best to study 
i lion "uglily and comprehensively the commerce of Britain 
in connection with the development of industry, commerce, 
and empire during the nineteenth century, a topic winch 
should be considered in the course on history in the sixth 
or seventh year. Some simple notions, however, of the 
relations between the British Isles and the rest of the 
world are needed at this earlier stage. 

The pupils must know that the earth is a sphere, and 

must have a clear idea of its division into 

oceans and continents. A large globe, on 

of the World, which only the most important IVatuivs are 

marked, and those with irn-at h. ,1,1m -,. j-, 

essential in this leaching. The count ri.^ in close political 


and commercial connection with our own land should be 
pointed out, so that such facts as that tea conies from China 
and India, cotton from the United States, Egypt, and India, 
timber from Canada and Sweden will mean something to 
the pupils. Though at this stage little can be learnt about 
these countries themselves, yet a considerable amount of 
information about the things we get from them should be 
given. Tea and cotton plantations, forests and timber 
felling, the mulberry tree and the silk worms, sheep and 
cattle ranches should be described, and the history of 
important imports from the place of production to the 
hands of the consumer should be traced. 

No attempt should be made to prove the rotundity 
of the earth. This fact, like many others in geography, 
must be presented didactically, but it should be illus- 
trated by every means in the teacher's power. The 
rotundity and size of the earth are no doubt large con- 
ceptions for the young mind to grasp, and it is hardly 
likely that at this stage they will be true and full. We 
must remember, however, that there are several years of 
school life before the pupils in which these ideas should 
become clearer, fuller, and more real. More complete and 
thorough treatment will be reserved until the pupils have 
greater depth and breadth of experience, and until it is 
necessitated by the course in history having reached the 
Age of Discovery. Reference, of course, should be made to 
ships sailing round the world, and to the gradual dis- 
appearance of ships at sea. These facts should not be 
given as proofs, but simply as illustrations to help in 
securing a fuller realisation of the ideas on which they 
throw light. The latter illustration, perhaps, is best shown 
by means of a large globe, round which is passed a ribbon 
with small representations of ships attached. As the 
teacher slowly moves this ribbon round the pupils will 


notice the gradual disappearance or appearance of the 

London as a centre of national activity now remains to 
be considered. No abstract treatment of this 
Centre conception should be attempted. Only broad 

of National plain facts that can be exemplified by people, 
events, and buildings should be noticed. The 
o>nrse in history will gradually bring clearer, fuller, and 
deeper notions concerning national life. Buckingham 
Palace and the Houses of Parliament at Westminster 
will typify the constitution ; and a simple sketch of 
an election, the passing of a bill, and the work of such 
important ministers as the Premier, the Home, Foreign, 
and Colonial Secretaries should be given. The Law 
Courts will represent the centre of justice; and judge, 
counsel, plaintiff, defendant, and witnesses will be 
pictured. Westminster Abbey and St. Paul's Cathedral, 
roat historic buildings and the burying places of our 
national heroes, should be dwelt on with reverence. Fleet 
Street should be shown as the news-centre of our island, 
and our postal and telegraph systems may well be sketched 
ut lining how news is obtained and circulated among 
the people. The British Museum, the Museums at South 
K'-nsington, and the various Art Q-alleries will give 
opportunity for dwelling on the more cultured side of our 
national life. 

Attention may then most fittingly be transferred to the 
two ancient English seats of learn in-, Oxford and Cam- 
l-ri'ltfe, and to the Universities of Scotland and Dublin. 
Simple notions of the educational work of these places 
should be given and pictures of the most important and 
most beautiful of their buildings shown. The growth of 
th.- in. lu-trial centres will account for the rise of our 

i 1'Tii uim.T-it i.-s in London ami the j.rovii 

PR TO. 21 


In a similar manner Edinburgh and Dublin, as the 
centres of the more local life of Scotland and Ireland, 
should be briefly pictured. 

The navy and army as means of national defence should 
receive attention. The importance of our navy should be 
brought out by reference to the fact that our country is a 
group of islands, to their position, and to the extent of our 
empire and commerce. The important naval centres should 
be located and described, and the reason for their position 
made manifest. 

7. At the beginning of the fifth year an entirely new set 
of conditions is met with which influences 
Relation of profoundly the course of teaching in ir i o- 
Geo^lphyand g ra P n y during the two or three concludm- 
History. years of school life. In history the pupils 

are about to begin an organised course on 
the great movements of European civilisation. Beginning 
with the city states of Greece they will trace out the advance, 
decline, and final fall of the Roman Empire. They will see 
Feudalism and Christianity slowly bringing justice and 
settled government, and nation after nation consolidated 
into something of its present form. They will note how 
the hordes of Arabs, Huns, and Turks invade the frontiers 
on the east and south, and how, one after another, they 
are hurled back. The age of discovery and of religious 
strife will take them over the Atlantic and Indian Oceans 
to wateh the foundation of European settlements in 
America and India, until the eighteenth and nineteenth 
centuries will bring them to the rise of western modes of 
life in Australia and South Africa. Finally, the closing 
years of the nineteenth century and the opening years of 
the twentieth will bring China, Japan, and Russia pro- 
minently under their notice. 

To understand these progressive and extending move- 


inents is the ;_rivut ;iu<l complex problem that faces the 
pupils, and these are the new conditions which the teacher 
must examine and weigh in arranging the choice of 
matter and the order of topics in his teaching of 

T\vo kinds of forces, one human, the other physical, have 
mined the advance or retardation of civilisation. Re- 
ligious fervour, quickening thought, and commercial and 
industrial enterprise on the one side, and fanaticism, ignor- 
ance, and barbarianism on the other are some of the human 
agencies ; while climate, fertile plains, wild mountains, 
dense forests, broad-flowing rivers, arid deserts, and mari- 
time facilities are among the many physical influences 
that have determined the fate of nations. History deals 
with the former agencies ; geography with the latter. But 
no line can be drawn to fix the bounds of the physical and 
human spheres. Their influences are so interwoven in the 
web of events that to unravel and separate each from each 
is beyond the wit of man. Hence, the study of geography 
on its human side is intimately and intricately bound up 
with history, while the physical aspect of history seeks its 
'\]>1;; nation in the study of geography. 

The aim of the final course of g^o^rapliy is seen, then, 
to be a most complex one. The teaching should, in placing 
re ihe pupils the physical conditions of countries and 
continents, seek to explain historical events. It shouM 
give an account of the lands and peoples that, in the course 
i.f history, are the successive centres of interest. The build 
of a country ; its position relative to the influence of other 
nations ; the presence or absence of natural resources that 
make for or against progress; the characteristics of the 
people th'-ir ^'iiius in t:ikiiiu r advantage of nature's gifts, 
th-ir courage and nt.Tpris,. in rising above its frowns, and 
tin- thought, n-ligion, art, government, i 


and commerce that have resulted from their labours ; these 
it is the function of geography to set before the pupils fully 
and truly. 

From this account of the function of geography in the 
upper school, it follows that the order of topics is deter- 
mined by the sequence of history. The teaching should 
begin with Europe in general, and with the Mediterranean 
area in particular. Asia Minor, the Levant, and the northern 
shores of Africa should not be excluded. These, both poli- 
tically and geographically, are part of the Mediterranean 
area, and were subject to the movements that began and 
spread around the shores of that sea. Their peoples, re- 
ligions, art, climate, and natural resources are similar in 
the main to those of the other countries around its borders. 
The Barbary states have affinities with Spain ; Asia Minor 
with European Turkey. Egypt alone stands apart, on 
account of the peculiar physical conditions that made it 
the birthplace of civilisation, and, combined with its 
position relative to India, have throughout the ages swept it 
into the flux of European politics. Europe and the Medi- 
terranean will, then, be the subject-matter of geography, 
as long as historic interest centres in that area; when 
the progress of events brings the New World, the ancient 
civilisations of Asia, and the modern colonies in Australia 
and in Africa before the eyes of the pupils the course 
should be extended to embrace the whole world. 

The order in which the various countries are dealt 
with should follow the main course of events. With the 
history of Ancient Greece will come the physical aspect of 
that country. Italy will be considered in connection with 
the growth of the Eoman Empire; Spain, France, Grer- 
many, and Austria, with the expansion of that Empire 
over those countries, with the barbarian invasions, and 
with the birth of European nations. Asia Minor, the Holy 


Lund, Egypt, the northern shores of Africa will be studied 
most naturally when the Arab invasions are the historical 
(litre of interest, and the Balkan States when the invasions 
of the Turks are under consideration. The Netherlands, 
Scandinavia, and Russia will complete the whole continent, 
though these countries do not come prominently into Euro- 
pean history until after the Reformation. 

With Yasco da Grama and Columbus the interest will 
cross the seas to Africa, Asia, and America. The con- 
quests of the Portuguese and Spaniards in central and 
1 iem America, together with the commercial and re- 
ligious settlements of the Dutch, French, and English in 
tin/ northern half of the continent, will bring the geography 
of America to the front. This will prepare the way for a 
fuller understanding of the course of events in the struggle 
for supremacy between France and England and in the 
American War of Independence. From America the teach- 
ing will pass to Asia, India being considered in conjunction 
with the strife between the French and English for the 
possession of its trade. Australasia, Africa, China, and 

t ivmain as places of historic importance, a knowledge 
of the geography of which will be needed in following 
the further growth of the British Empire and the com- 
mercial rivalries of the modern world. The development 
of industry and commerce during the nineteenth century, 
due to the invention of steam power, will be a prominent 
i' the course in history, and here will be a fitting 
opportunity to take a wider and deeper review of the 
industries and commerce of the British Isles than was 
pOMtble in the third and fourth y.-nrs. Such lessons will 
serve not only to revise and expand tin- pupils' kncwlr.l-.- 

ir own land, but to deepen and systematise iheir 
knowledge of the pn.ducr and Industrie ,,f other count 

IVO and amount of our imports and sports Amulet 


be studied, and the countries from which we receive our 
food stuffs and raw material, and to which we import the 
products of our factories should be noted. The size and 
importance of our mercantile marine and the chief ocean 
routes and coaling stations should also be examined. 

It must not be forgotten, however, that the course of 
history will bring certain countries many times into the 
foreground. Germany, Italy, the Balkan States, and 
Greece figure prominently in the growth of national spirit 
in the nineteenth century. France, Spain, Italy, the 
Rhine, and Russia were the theatre of the Napoleonic wars. 
Hence the pupils' knowledge of these countries will con- 
tinually be growing fuller and fuller as the history ad- 
vances. Complete geographical treatment of a country 
may not, therefore, always be necessary when it is first 
considered. The teacher should exercise his discretion as 
to how much he can leave to be dealt with when that 
country again figures prominently in the history. 
Obviously, however, there can be no perfect synchron- 
ising of the teaching of history and geography. The 
course in geography cannot diverge here and there as 
historic interest passes from country to country. Each 
country will as a rule be studied fully in its geographical 
aspect before another country is considered in detail, 
although at the same time a thorough treatment of the 
physical conditions and the people must take into account 
the connections and affinities that exist between them 
and the conditions and people of other parts of the 

The order of topics as outlined above is not laid down 
as a fixed and unalterable one. It is only offered as a sug- 
gestion to help the teacher in drawing up his own course. 
We wish only to emphasise the general principles on which 
such a course should be based, by illustrating how the details 


In 1 worked out. In deciding on his course the 
':or should consider with what fulness and with what 
emphasis he intends to' trace out the movements in ancient, 
mediaeval, and modern history, and should arrange his 
course in geography accordingly. 

8. The physical and human relations that bind country to 
c-ountry suggest that a rational study of 

General Europe should begin by considering it as 

Treatment of *T . ., J . 

a Continent. a whole. Similar reasonings apply to the 

study of every continent. The general build, 

tlio main mountain ranges, the chief river basins, the great 

plains, the large projecting peninsulas, should be learned 

in lold outline by the study of a model and photo-relief 

or orographic map. On the physical side, such outlining 

in noting the geographical areas and their boun- 

[[uman interest, however, must dwell on political 

- and frontiers, and such questions as what constitutes 

a nation and what is a suitable frontier may well be 


It will be found that racial characteristics, language, 

ivliu r in. and fivo<l<nn of intercourse affect the answer to 

be givni in carl) particular case; for example, great fertile 

plain* ami broad alluvial valleys tend to become occupied 

by the >amo nation. Organised governments rose on the 

le plains t' the Nile, Ganges, and the rivers of China. 

utercourse is necessary for cohesion. Dense 

:iid broad fens were impassable by wanderiii:/ 

M and hence proved excellent frontiers. Mountain 

chains and arid plains were unfavourable both to warlike 

a:_'L r !v>>i"ii ,:nd to graceful iutrivoiirso. though iraps and 

pqogQg gave possible, if not easy, access to merchants of 

I or to advancing i.rnii.-s. Such con- 

,i ..n in marking ut 

.1 areas, and the 


progress of events in history will continually give oppor* 
tunities for discussing them further. At the same time it 
must be noted that in all cases disturbing human forces 
will modify, to a greater or less extent, physical influences, 
so that political do not always coincide with natural 

9. In studying a continent or country in its physical 
aspect only those features that have, or have 

Relation of h a( j an influence in determining its political, 

Physical and b . 

Social Aspects, social, commercial, or industrial fortunes 

need be dwelt on. This cannot be too 
strongly emphasised. No part of the brief time which the 
school can give to geography can be occupied with that 
which is simply and exclusively physical. What bears on 
human life as it is, or as it came to be what it is, inspires 
the deepest human interest, and is of the greatest human 

It has already been noted that climate, vegetable and 
mineral resources, the nature of the mountains, rivers, and 
coast line are influences in the destinies of a people. 

In Greece proximity to the civilisation of Egypt, 
together with a great extent of coast line and many good 
harbours aiding free maritime intercourse, favoured the 
advance of the Greek, whilst its numerous mountain 
ranges, by isolating its fertile valleys, hindered union into 
one nation. l 

Italy and the Iberian peninsula, too, are examples of 
countries whose physical conditions tend to the formation 
of independent sections among the people. The great 
length of the former as compared with its width, and 
separation of the east from the west by the Apennines, 
hinder that complete solidarity of thought that is necessary 

1 The teacher is advised to read Chap. I., Part II., of Grote's 
History of Greece, Avhore this subject is very thoroughly discussed. 


for a strong national spirit. In the latter a similar result 
has been produced by a barren interior, numerous moun- 
tain chains, unnavigable rivers, and a coast line diffi- 
cult of access ; all of which have rendered peaceful 
intercourse and exchange of commodities and culture 
difficult in the extreme, the result being that there is no 
really national, but only local, feeling. 

In France, on the other hand, the compact nature of the 
country, and the long, deep, navigable rivers that render 
every part accessible, have favoured the formation of a 
strong national spirit by union under one crown. At the 
same time its mountain and sea frontiers, except on the 
north-east, have hindered warlike aggression from neigh- 
bouring states. 

The long narrow Mediterranean Sea with its numerous 
islands and projecting peninsulas, closed from the Atlantic 
and protected from its waves, has always been a busy high- 
way for international intercourse. Phoenician and Greek 
traders were found in every land, and their colonies sprang 
up around its shores. The same sea made it easy for 
Rome to expand her influence over the countries on its 
borders. The importance of Alexandria is explained by 
its position at the mouth of the fertile valley of the Nile. 
This great city collected the wealth of Egypt and dis- 
tributed it over the known world. Later, its position on 
the chief trade route to India made it the great emporium 
of the eastern Mediterranean, whence all goods were trims- 
ported to and t'rm the Red Sea. The presence of the sea 
accounted for the rise to wealth and power of the gnat 
cities of Venice, Florence, an<l ' The discovery of 

tli- <'a]*' mull' t> Iii'liu ln-mi^ht alxmf the .lecline of 
Al'\;imlri:i ami !' thr -.rival Italian cities, and the rise of 
maritime countries <m tin- Atlantic sral>.,;inl. 

In ni".lrni limes strain power, elect ricity. ami nimic 


mechanical inventions are human agencies that, by over- 
coming time, space, and natural obstacles, make communi- 
cation between country and country quick and easy. 
These agencies must be reckoned with in considering the 
growth and solidarity of the British Empire, and the 
development of the United States, Canada, Africa, and 

10. In studying the peoples of the various countries 
a very complex problem awaits the teacher. 
^ e peoples of Western Europe, though no 
doubt marked each by its own peculiar 
characteristics, are in the main very similar to each other. 
The spread of Greek and Eoman civilisation in all 
countries, the mixture of races, and freedom of intercourse 
have led to a common religion of Christianity, and a 
marked similarity in systems of government, in thought, 
art, and general culture. Advance in civilisation, of course, 
varies from country to country, but in comparison with the 
other peoples of the world the peoples of Western Europe, 
whether in their old homes or in new homes across the 
sea, present a type of life, thought, religion, morality, and 
social customs that mark them off from the rest of the 
world. There is little difficulty, therefore, in presenting 
them to the pupils. 

Far different is it in picturing the peoples of the East, 
and the native races of America and Africa. Their reli- 
gions, modes of thought, ideas of beauty and culture, their 
customs and habits of daily life are in striking contrast to 
those of Western Europe. A deep knowledge of racial 
characteristics, an intimate acquaintance with the details of 
their lives, are essential to the teacher if he is to present a 
vivid and real picture of these alien races. Generalities are 
vague and convey liitle meaning ; too often they lead only 
to the memorising of formulas. To be fruitful they must 


be clothed with a wealth of detailed knowledge that stirs 
the i in a Lriir.n ion and excites that feeling of sympathy whirl i 
sh\vs that the pupils have entered with mind and heart 
into the inner lives of these peoples. It is not enough to 

nt pictures of appearance, dress, dwellings, and occupa- 
tions, though these certainly should form part of the pupils' 

n. An account should be given of beliefs and super- 
stitions, of religious rites and ceremonies, of characteristic 
modes of thought, of the hereditary and national instincts 
which load men to be warriors, hunters, or tillers of the 
soil. Ke presentations of temples, sculpture, and other art 
work should l>e placed before the pupils in graphic detail. 

In the national character! sties of a people much is due 
to the mixture of races resulting from the various invasions 
and migrations that, from time to time, have taken place. 
The pupils should know the chief racial peculiarities of Celt, 

>n, Arab, Slav, Turk, Mongol, and other peoples that 
<>\vrran or invaded Europe and Asia at various times. 
The course in history will set forth how they poured 
i Yon i time to time over the borders and conquered 
the occupiers of the soil. Sometimes the races blended, 
producing a people whose instincts savoured of both, as in 
many European countries. Sometimes the weaker suc- 
cuml>ed and almost died out, as in the case of the n 

s of North America and Australia. Sometimes tin- 
two races lived on side 1\ !i people pursiiin 
own ideals in its own way. This is markedly exemplified 
in India, where many peoples with different languages, 

ions, and ways of life occupy the country but have 

r amalgamated into one nationality. 

\V1 li- final outcome of the many migrations 

record' -d ly history, each left some more or less distinct mark 
on the country. Tin* invader* either built up or destroyed. 
Conquest has turned many fair and ^rdtpOKKUl lands 


into arid wastes of poverty. Asia Minor was a thickly 
populated province before its occupation by the Turks. 
Spain under the Romans was one of the granaries of the 
Empire, and unler the Moors was the fairest land in 
Europe. With the Christian conquest " followed the 
abomination of desolation, the rule of the Inquisition, and 
the blackness of darkness in which Spain has been plunged 
ever since." 1 On the other hand, Roman occupation left 
its mark throughout its broad empire in cities, roads, har- 
bours, cultivated lands, and in the language, customs, laws, 
and government of the people. 

The names of mountains, rivers, and towns are striking 
evidence of the peoples who have governed or occupied the 
land. Such names as Paris and Turin mark the original 
tribes ; Cadiz and Lisbon are signs of the maritime spirit 
of the Phoenicians. Indications in place names of the 
Roman occupation, invasions of the Northmen and of 
Arabs are too numerous to mention. The influence of the 
Dutch, French, and Spanish conquests in America can be 
seen from a glance of the map. 

It is with such considerations as these that a country 
begins to mean something more than a tract of land. It 
is a book on which events have written their history in 
fertile fields and populous towns, in buildings, roads, 
harbours, and works of all kinds, in names of province 
and city. The pupils should be taught to read its story 
with sympathy and reverence. 

11. In presenting a continent or country and its people 
to the imagination of the pupils only the 
most important and main characteristics 
should be dwelt on. The vast extent of the 
subject and the limited time at the disposal of the teacher 
do not permit of minor peculiarities being mentioned. 
1 Laue Poole, The Moors in Spain. Preface, p. viii. 


The depth and breadth with which any country is studied 
slumM depend on the importance of its relations to the 
movements of history and to modern tendencies. 
India, as a part of our Empire and as the home of a 
typical Eastern civilisation, should be examined in careful 
detail ; Persia, Siberia, and the republics of South America 
need only be sketched in broad outline. 

Moreover, the aspect in which each country is examined 
should be decided by similar considerations. Except as 
the home of Greek civilisation and as an example of a 
nation i'nvd from Turkish misrule, Greece has little im- 
portance. The Turkish conquest and the present political 
relations are the interesting questions in the Balkan 
peninsula. The early discoveries, the Dutch farmers, the 
natives, the gold fields, and British rule are the important 
topics in South Africa. Each country has its important 
aspect or aspects, has some features that are of vital 
moment. To know them fully, to understand them, to 
enter into the human problems with full sympathy is the 
work before the pupils. All else is irrelevant. To teach 
it is to waste time. Hence the teacher, in selecting the 
topics and in deciding the point of view from which they 
should be regarded, must weigh carefully each country in 
tin- balance. 

1 -2 The geography during the later years of school life 
presents many very diverse phenomena in 

Inany parts f the worl<i ' Manv different 
Geography- climates cold, hot, moist, and dry, some 

equable and others extreme will be under 
w. Flora and fauna, too, of very varied nature will 
be pictured. Mountainous regions, flat plains, broad 
alluvial valleys supporting hup- populations, narrow rocky 
gorges hindering ratlin- than aiding commercial and 
social intercourse, will l>e met with. So diversified and 


numerous are the different kinds of physical conditions 
that aid or hinder man's daily work and social intercourse 
that to present them as separate concrete phenomena 
would lead to much confusion and would involve great 
labour in learning. Underlying each of the numerous 
physical conditions are a few main physiographical 
principles concerning climate, vegetation, and the forma- 
tion of mountain and river that give unity and system to 
an enormous mass of detail. A knowledge of these 
principles is essential to the rational comprehension of 
the climate, vegetation, and surface of a country. Hence, 
when so great a complexity and variety of physical circum- 
stances must be dealt with, it is most important thai 
the pupils should become acquainted with these general 
notions in order that learning may be facilitated and time 
saved, and that they may perceive in such phenomena the 
working of certain fundamental natural forces. 

Little can be done in this direction until the beginning 
of the fifth year. Until then the pupils are making some 
acquaintance with the details of comparatively small areas 
differing in physical peculiarities comparatively little from 
each other. But even during this earlier period the 
various physical conditions in the British Isles will, under 
a good teacher, have led the pupils to inquire into the 
probable cause of these variations. They should have 
been led to understand why Ireland is moist and Eastern 
England much drier, why the northern highlands are 
comparatively barren while the plain of York supports a 
large village and town population. 

By the fifth year the pupils should have advanced 
sufficiently in breadth of knowledge and in 
MatoCourae intell ectual power to profit by an organ- 
ised course in important physiographical 
principles. This course should not be separated from the 


main course in geography; it should be taught in con- 
nertion with it ami be largely determined by it in the order 
of topics. 

The consideration of climate will come first as one of 
the nio.-T important influences on man's life. The effect 
of climate on vegetation and animal life will naturally 
follow. Monsoons need not be explained until India 
becomes the subject for study. Storms and hurricanes 
will l>e dealt with in connection with the West Indies and 
tli.' Indian >.- i ;in. 

With the study of the Alps and Pyrenees can begin the 

t-; 1 1 -him: of the formation of mountains and the denuding 

ii of glaciers and rivers. These will receive further 

consideration when the Himalayas and the Rockies are 


The formation of river valleys will be constantly under 
discussion. Broad alluvial valleys can be examined in 
the lessons on the Po, Nile, Ganges, and Mississippi, and 
narrow rocky gorges will be observed in teaching the 
rivers of Spain, the sources of the Brahmaputra and 
In. lus. ami the canons of the Colorado. 

way an intimate connection will be maintained 

physiographical principles and geographical 

phenomena ; tin- former will constantly be applied in 

explaining the various geographical facts met \\\\\\ as the 

pupils pass from country to country and from continent 


course on geography and from n'eneral 
information which will have been irained 
l''""i time to time about the count ries from 
which various articles such as tea and cotton 
are brou pupils will have acquired a consid.-ral,]. 

bod\ wledge with regard to climate. They will 

' there are hotter and colder than their 


own, countries drier and wetter, countries which have 
warmer summers but colder winters. By an analysis 
of this knowledge they should reach a rough classifi- 
cation of the various kinds of climates, and from this 
should pass on to determine the causes that produce 
these variations. They will consider how latitude, alti- 
tude, mountains, winds, vast expanses of water and land, 
ocean currents, have each its influence in determining 
the degree of warmth, moisture, and equableness of the 
climate of a country. Isothermal charts of the world 
for January and July should be examined, and the pupils 
should show their grasp of the conditions that make for 
and against heat and cold by explaining the variations 
in the direction of the isotherms as they pass over conti- 
nents and seas, over low plains and valleys, and over 
mountainous regions. Rain charts of the world should be 
similarly studied. Many illustrations of climates in 
different parts of the world should be given during this 
teaching to help the pupils to attain a thorough grasp of 
climatic conditions, but the real application of the prin- 
ciples will come when they begin the first study of a 
country. Each country will then present a fresh oppor- 
tunity for gaining a more detailed and clearer grasp of the 

The influence of climate on vegetation should next be 
considered, and should lead up to a knowledge of the zones 
of vegetation and the kind of vegetation peculiar to each. 
Temperature and moisture will be shown to be the main 
factors in determining the amount and kind of vegeta- 
tion. The effect of temperature is well illustrated by 
the change in vegetation in passing from the equator 
to the poles or in ascending mountains of considerable 
height, and the influence of moisture by comparing such 
arid lands as the Sahara, Arabia, and the Spanish plateau 


with the tropical forests of Africa and America. Scenes 
typical of each zone should be graphically described and 
amply illustrated by pictures and, where possible, by 
specimens of plants. Such typical regions as a tropical 
forest, an arid waste, the Mediterranean area, a pine 
and fir region, should be described. Man's efforts to 
overcome natural difficulties by irrigation should be 
dealt with and illustrated by reference to such coun- 
Spain, Egypt, and India. So will the pupils 
be aided to picture realistically the characteristic vege- 
tation of the various zones. 

A thorough study of climate demands a treatment of 
winds and currents ; of atmospheric moisture and the con- 
ditions which make for and against its condensation; and 
of the rotation and revolution of the earth, their results in 
-accession of seasons and the variation in the length of 
day and night, and their influence on the directions of 
winds and currents. 

The two former will require lessons of an experimental 
character. Expansion and contraction of liquids and 
gases by heat and cold, convection in air and water, evapo- 
ration and condensation should be illustrated by suitable 
apparatus, and the principles so demonstrated applied to 
i and more complex conditions on the surface of 
th- earth. A very common mistake in teaching such 
topics is the statement that " heated air or water rises." 
i is not the case, unless it be in dynamical relations 
with a heavier substance, as cold air or water. It is the 
colder aii that forces the relatively lighter heated air 
1 1 j wards. Another common but erroneous statement is that 
" moist air striking on cold mountains causes rain." Tho 
real sequence that mountains deil.rt the current of air 
into higher and colder strata, of air and thai condensation 
ensues is one th> ire quite capable of inferring. 



In teaching the rotation and revolution of the earth the 
various relevant facts known to the pupils should be 
gathered together and summarised in a convenient form. 
They will know that the length of the day and night varies 
during the year, and which is the longest and which the 
shortest day. They will know the difference of the seasons. 
Such facts clearly and briefly summarised will keep before 
their minds the phenomena they have to explain. No 
attempt should be made to pursue a strictly inductive 
in. -t hod. This is out of place with children in so complex 
a subject. It is far better to lay clearly before them the 
ma in relations of rotation, inclination of axis, and revo- 
lution. There are many opportunities, however, when a 
tactful teacher may call on his pupils to suggest hypotheses, 
and in such cases they should infer the consequences of 
these suppositions and so expose their truth or falsity. 

When the relations of rotation, inclination of axis, and 
revolution are clearly grasped the pupils should work out 
in detail their consequences in varying length of day and 
night and in the seasons knowledge which can then be 
applied to securing a deeper grasp of the climatic con- 
ditions in various typical parts of the globe. Later they 
should pass on to explaining the Phases of the Moon 
and Eclipses, and should, before leaving school, have a 
clear general notion of the Solar System. Considerable 
interest will be excited by pointing out, on some star- 
light night, the most important constellations, giving 
their names and some interesting particulars concerning 

To obtain a clear grasp of the relations between the 
earth, sun, and moon, and to work out one by one the 
consequences of these relations, a good model, illustrative 
of the movements of rotation and revolution, is necessary. 
It should be strongly and firmly made, simple in character, 

nil: TEACHIN". "I' GAOOBAPHT. 339 

have 110 complicated machinery, and be capable of being 
handled and worked by the pupils themselves. 1 

In studying mountains and rivers the pupils should 

begin to under>tand the nature of the earth's crust, the 

main kinds of rocks that compose it, and the chief char- 

bhoee rocks as far as they affect man. The 

movements of the earth's crust, volcanic action, and the 

formation of mountain chains should be illustrated by 

diagrams and models, and by reference to specimens of 

ro.-ks and photographs and sketches of exposed strata. 

nple way of illustrating the movements of the crust 

take a pile of papers differently coloured to represent 

>trata. then holding the ends fairly firmly to apply lateral 

pressure. The pile of stratified papers will crumple up in 

mi very analogous to the movements of the earth's 

crust in forming mountain chains. The action of iWt, 

wind, rivers, glaciers, and seas in moulding the surface of 

th< earth should then be examined, and will receive ample 

illustration as the pupils pass from country to country. 

photographs, lantern slides, diagrams, and 

sketches should be used extensively in illustrating the 

result> of denudation. 

13. To illustrate the application of the above priu- 
cipler, in the choice and grouping of topics, 
Illustration: we propose considering how the land and 
Iberian people of the Iberian peninsula might suit- 

ably IK- presented to the pupils. 

It must be rememlMMvd that the general build of Europe 
will be known, and that some progress will have been 
mad- derim: climate and vegetation. Greece and 

I i.een designed by M<- i 

'1 have liri'ii u- <! in many ^<-|IIMI!S with 

satisfactory rusulta. -1 ii->m M- >srs. Amt.l.l, ,.t' 



Italy at least will have been studied, and examples of 
Mediterranean climate and vegetation illustrated. In 
dealing with Italy the effect of the snow-topped Alps 
and of the heavy rains among these mountains and the 
Apennines on the delta and alluvial valley of the Po will 
have been examined. Moreover, Spain will appear 
prominently in certain parts of the course in history, 
particularly in dealing with the Moorish invasion, the 
Spanish conquests in America, and the Peninsula wars. 
Hence, topics with a strong historical bias that bear 
prominently on these periods can well be left for full 
consideration to the lessons in history dealing with these 
quest ions. 

The position of the Peninsula, its comparative isolation 
from the rest of Europe, and its compact shape will first 
be considered as fitting it to be the home of a single 
nation, though other of its features will afterwards be 
found to have an opposite tendency. Its build, when 
examined from a model or photo-relief map, will be 
seen to consist of a large high tableland bordered and 
intersected by ranges of mountains, with fringing coast 
plains of varying width on the eastern, southern, and 
western borders, and two broad depressions of the Ebro 
and the Guadalquiver ; the one separating the plateau 
from the lofty range of the Pyrenees on the north-east, 
the other from the high peaks of the Sierra Nevada on the 

The solid, compact nature of the tableland in proximity 
to the sea in many places will explain the general lack 
of inlets except in the north-west, where the numerous 
mountain ridges abutting on the coast give rise to the 
' rias ' of Galicia. Such a coast line suggests that harbours 
will be few and the coast difficult of access ; consequently, 
that the Spaniards will show little propensity for maritime 


adventure: a conclusion which the teacher will bear out 
by informing the pupils of the smallness of the Spanish 
mercantile marine. By studying a map of the Peninsula 
it will be seen that the chief harbours, especially on the 
coast, are found at the mouths of rivers; and refer- 
ence will be made to Lisbon, one of the finest harbours of 
the world, and Oporto, the port par excellence of the 
Romans. That these ports are in Portugal and that the 
Portuguese have an inveterate dislike to the Spaniards, 
point to the conclusion that the Portuguese will seek com- 
mercial intercourse with other nationalities by sea and will 
have strong maritime tendencies. These inferences the 
teacher will support by references to Portuguese historv. 
Prince Henry the Navigator, son of John I. of Portugal, of the earliest leaders of maritime discovery. By 
his efforts the Portuguese succeeded in discovering the 
Azores and the Madeiras, and in finding their way 
round the Cape to India, a beginning that culminated in a 
vast colonial empire spreading from Brazil to India. A 
fitting comparison may be drawn in this respect between 

i and the Spaniards and Greece and the Greeks. 
P. the river system the pupils will infer, hv 

ttg the course of the rivers, that the general fall of the 
land lateau is from east to west. Thus most of 

f the plate. in is westward, and the rivers of 
the north and east, where the plateau <>r the fringing moun- 
tain** li- 1 <!"-' to the coast, are short and rapid, and, conse- 
.juently, .f little .r no use for navigation. Asthe plateau i> 
I'rin-'-d by mountain ranges the rivers have to burst their 
way through, and have formed deep, narrow, \\inding 
gorges, two of which, the passes <>[' the Douro and (Juadiana, 
provide the main 1. :iimunieatim between the plains 

and tin- tablel;md ; the third, the pa^ i-e 0f tin- ! 
too diilicult to be of much service. 


Before considering in full the effect of the rivers in 
aiding or hindering commercial intercourse and political 
unity, it will be advisable to examine the climate of Spain 
and its effects on the land, since the obstacles of contour 
are further intensified by the results of the climate. The 
climate, or rather climates, of Spain are the direct result 
of its position and build. Lying practically in the same 
latitude as Southern Italy and Greece, it possesses a much 
drier and more extreme climate. 

This conclusion the pupils can infer by applying their 
knowledge of climatic conditions to the position and build 
of Spain. The great plateau with its fringing mountains 
is in reality a great uplifted depression or saucer, or rather 
series of saucers, separated by intersect in-- ranges. In 
sunn ner the plateau is intensely heated and the air conse- 
quently rarified; hence the general direction of the winds 
will be from the sea to the interior. In winter the land is 
cooled and the air condensed, and the winds will be from 
the interior to the sea. In summer, however, when the 
winds are heavily charged with moisture from the Atlantic 
and the Mediterranean, the rain is deposited on the slopes 
of the mountains fringing the plateau, leaving the inner area 
a waterless desert, whilst the slopes towards the seas are 
well watered. In winter the climate will be dry and ex- 
tremely cold. 

To bring out in a realistic manner the contrasts between 
the various districts in Spain, certain typical areas should 
be described in some detail and illustrated by pictures. 
The pupils should imagine the arid plateau, its scanty vege- 
tation mostly of esparto grass, its numerous bare tracts, 
the scorching heat and glare of the sun, the cloudless sky, 
the cool and sometimes chilly evenings, the Spanish houses, 
the midday siesta, the dry choking dust that obscures the 
landscape in the south and through which the sun shines 


only as a reddish disc, the caravan of mules indicated in 
tlu i distance by the gray cloud of dust, and in winter the 
cold, dry, piercing winds and the snows of the mountain 
passes. It will be pointed out how this region was not 
always a barren waste. By irrigation and skilful cultiva- 
tion the Romans made it one of the granaries of the 
world, and the agricultural genius of the Moors enriched 
it still further. The modern Spaniard, however, indo- 
lent, apathetic, with rude antiquated methods of tillage, 
leaves it the desert waste it is to-day. The teacher should 
explain, and illustrate by means of diagrams, methods of 
irrigation by which a scanty water supply may be collected, 
preserved, and distributed, so that the utmost benefit is 
d -rived from it. 

In contrast with the waste and arid plateau the more 
flourishing regions round the coast should be pictured. 

On the northern coast, owing to the rain-bearing sea 
winds depositing their moisture on the slopes of the 
Cantal.rian mountains, the country wears a perennial gar- 
ment of green. The teacher should describe the forests of 
oak, beech, and birch, the orchards of apples and cherries, 
the groves of chestnuts and walnuts, the fields of maize, 
rye, hemp, and flax, the green mountain glens, and the 

In Valrn.-ia a different scene presents itself. The warm 
climate and the irrigation works left by the Moors have 
made it a veritable garden. Oranges, dates, figs, almonds, 
raisins, olives, pomegranates, lemons, mulberries, tomatoes, 
and fields of maize, wheat, flax, hemp, cotton, and, near the 
low-lying coast, sugar are found. So rich is the soil that 
two or three crops a year can be gathrivd. 

Similar! v. Andalusia, with its varied wealth of products 
tropical, suli-ii-..j.i.-al. ami tnuj >cr;ite and its fierce hot 
SUIIIIIMT. should !> 


The contrasts may well be brought out by the teacher 
reading such a passage as the following : " If in summer 
you were to cross the peninsula from the Bay of Biscay to 
the south coast of Andalusia, you would climb up to the 
tableland from a region where everything rusts and moulds 
from dampness, ascending through fields of maize, through 
vineyards, through orchards of apples and pears, through 
groves of chestnuts, forests of oaks and beeches, past green 
meadows and brawling mountain streams. Up on the table- 
land all is aridity and fierce sun heat, with no sign of life 
anywhere. What little vegetation there is, is smothered with 
dust ; dust chokes the roads, the houses ; dust fills the air, 
dims the brightness of the sun. Wide treeless plains separ- 
ated from one another by bare, stony mountains. But t he 
tableland crossed, and the blue \vaters of the Mediter- 
ranean seen sparkling in the distance, you enter a land 
where the mountain brooks conjure forth groves and 
gardens of lovely fruit, where the golden orange gl 
amongst its dark green leaves, and the date-palm lifts its 
noble crown of foliage high above the Moorish-looking 
town, and close down by the sea fields of sugar-cane wave 
gently in the breeze." l 

The pupils can now, from their knowledge of the re- 
sources and difficulties of communication in the Peninsula, 
readily come to several important conclusions. They will 
see that the rivers, both from the rocky nature of their 
gorges and from their scant supply of water, are quite 
unserviceable ; that the mountains, meagre rainfall, and 
the scarcity of vegetation render political combination, 
commercial and social intercourse and military campaigns 
very difficult ; that only by energy, initiative, skill, and per- 
severing enterprise in making roads, railways, and irrigation 

1 Quoted from Fischer, in Stanford's Compendium of GcoyrajJti/, 
?>c, Vol. I., p. 281. 


works, and in introducing improved methods of tiling 1 . 
can tlu 1 natural difficulties be overcome and the country be 
rendered prosperous. These conclusions should be illus- 
t rated in a number of ways. 

The main facts of the campaigns of Napoleon and his 
generals in Spain will exemplify the difficulty with which 
11 siu-h a country was conducted. The lack of 
and vegetable life prevented continued concentration 
>ops. Armies had to be scattered over the country. 
Their routes were determined by the passes over the moun- 
tains : and the passes of the Douro and the G-uadiana and 
the j.l a > that guard their entrance were the continual 
scene of Wellington's various marches, whilst only once 
<lil he attempt the difficult passage of the Tagus. The 
impracticability of the mountain passes in winter, due to 
the wild snowstorms, is well illustrated by the account of 
Sir John Moore's retreat on Corunna. 

The nature f the land and the climate account, too, 
for the tendencies which have always marked the people 
..I tin* IVninsula. Tin- various races have never really 
combined into one nation. In different districts they 
have different dialects and very divergent racial character- 
Thus. Spain is seen, not as a united people whose 
national aims and aspirations centre in its capital, hut 
as a coll e . weakened hy local jealousies and 

and always ready to rebel against the central 
Mrthority, With such centrifugal tendencies it is easy 
to understand how conquest liy the Moors was aided by 
disunion between the <;..ths and native races, and how in 
turn dissensions among the Moors helped the Christian 
power to expel them frm the land. Illustrations of these 
mioM are found throughout the \\h..le 
courseof Spai fcory. In the absence of a real and 

d spirit, to subdue and con. pier the capital 


city meant nothing; local resistance and independence 
asserted themselves quite as strongly against an enemy 
though he held the reins of government. The rising 
against Napoleon was not a national movement, but a num- 
ber of separate local movements. Each province acted 
independently. In this respect Spain may very aptly be 
compared with Greece and Italy, where similar tendencies 
were shown. 

The difficulties of commercial intercourse will explain 
to some extent the uncommercial spirit of the Spaniards, 
their local independence and proud nature, the ignorance 
and conservatism of the peasant, the clumsy antiquated 
method of cultivation, and the poverty of the country. 

The pupils will now be able to appreciate more fully the 
characteristics of the Spanish people. They will see that 
ju>t as the country is full of contrasts so are the people. 
The teacher will describe in detail the gay, pleasing, 
courteous, yet self-satisfied Andalusian ; the proud, cere- 
monious, opinionated, but indolent Castilian, content to 
while away his life in abject poverty; the more enterpris- 
ing and industrious inhabitants of the north coast the 
Galiciaii, who undertakes all kind of arduous labour, the 
Asturiaii, who prefers domestic service, the Basque, proud 
as the Castilian, but devoting his energies to farming and 
rural occupations ; the revengeful, suspicious, and blood- 
thirsty Catalonian and Valencian. They will thus be 
prepared to realise that the dominant notes of a large 
section of the Spanish people are indolence, apathy, and 
self-satisfied pride. 

These characteristic traits can be well illustrated by refer- 
ence to the use the Spaniards make of their mineral and agri- 
cultural resources. Their rich mines of argentiferous lead, 
copper, and iron have always been exploited by foreigners. 
The Phoenicians, Eonians, and Moors worked them in the 


of old. After the expulsion of the Moors the mines 
were neu-]e<-ted until the nineteenth century, when the 
industry lias been revived by French, German, and English 
enterprise. Spanish indolence, ignorance, and apathy in 
agriculture are sh.>\\n by contrast with the skill and energy 
of the K< mums and Moors. The antiquated methods of culti- 
vation should he described wooden ploughs drawn by oxen, 
sickles to ivap the corn, threshing under the feet of horses, 
winnowing by the wind, and other rude methods of tillage. 1 

Enough detail has. perhaps, been given to indicate how 
the connection between physical conditions, the life of 
the people, and historical events should be emphasised 
in teaching geography. Before the Peninsula can be left 
there yet remain to be taught the particulars of each dis- 
trict. Tin* Pyrenees, with its passes and great ' cirques,' 
will be pictured, and Roncesvalles and the paladin Roland 
mentioned. Andalusia and the Moorish cities of Cordova, 
i da, and Seville will be described, and something of 
the wonders of Moorish culture and industry presented 
to the pupils, though fuller treatment will be left to the 
course in history. 

As opportunity presents itself the history seen in the 
names of mountain, stream, and city will be touched on. 
'I'll.- Moorish 'uel>el,' a mountain, and 'guad,' a river, 
will constantly receive illustration, and Tarit'a and Gibraltar 
brills i" remembrance the early Saracen invaders. 

I ! I'rom the account that has been given of the kind of 

geography that should be taught it will be 

obvious that, besides giving the pupils a 

rational understanding of the lands and 

peoples of the world, a real and vivid picture of them 

mish indolence may !> m.ul- vivid 
h a passage an ih- in t i\\<> 


must be presented a picture that stands before the 
mind's eye in living detail. Indeed, a rational under- 
standing is only possible when such an image is created. 
To present such a picture the teacher needs a copious and 
detailed knowledge. This cannot be obtained from a text- 
book, which confines itself to lists of names and detached 
statements of facts. To obtain the abundant and graphic 
detail that is essential to effective teaching, books that 
describe the lands and peoples in warm and living colours 
should be studied. Books written by observant and sym- 
pathetic travellers or by those whom long residence has 
made intimately acquainted with the inner lives of the 
people are especially valuable. Many extracts from such 
books can with advantage be read to the class, and will 
probably awaken an interest that will lead the pupils to 
seek furl her acquaintance. 

Having made himself thoroughly at home with his 

matter the teacher must present it in such 
Description. r ... . 

a way as to arouse the pupil s imagination. 

Every means possible should be used to effect this end. 
Abstract statements of general notions are never effective. 
Such notions should be inferred from facts gathered from 
the map or from information supplied by the teacher or 
book. They are, however, only an outline sketch which, 
as detail after detail is added, should become a vivid and 
realistic picture. 

For example, to tell the pupils or to lead them to infer 
from certain data that certain parts of Canada have an 
extremely cold winter is to state a general fact which may 
mean much or little according as they can realise in imagi- 
nation what this means to the Canadians themselves ; and 
the average English child has very little material from 
which to construct such a picture unaided. The teacher 
should, therefore, describe the St. Lawrence frozen over 


with ice and the railway laid across, the furs and wraps to 
keep out tin- keen wind, the sleighing and tdboguming, 

-How-shoes of the hunter. Then, if he reads to them 
such a poem as The Famine from Longfellow's Hiawatha, 
their imagination and sympathies will be aroused in such 
a Way that they will feel as well as know what "an ex- 
tremely cold winter" means. Yet, as the pupils advance, 
inference from general principles and fuller and deeper 
explanation should mark the learning; for it is essential 
that they should understand the underlying connections 
between thin. 

Though graphic and detailed, the descriptions should be 

: and orderly, or they will only result in a confused 
1 >lur. Tn describing a scene the teacher should start from 
an outline sketch of the whole and fill it up methodically 
ly passing from one point to another in order of import- 
ance, dwelling explicitly on the connections that bind 
thrin together into a whole. Many descriptions, though 

i in the graphic and realistic nature of their details, 

fail 1* vu use the teacher, instead of putting the pieces 

her systematically, jumbles them up in a confused 

ring the early years the descriptive oral lesson will 
e l>een the chief mode of teaching. Now, 

Text-Books however, that the pupils have aeouiivd the ; ;rf 

and Reading- . 

Books. * reading with ease, books should more and 

more become the instruments of learning. A 

1 tert-booi uliieli will give in an orderly 

manner the facts od phy. and slio\s Ly the grouping 

"iisLetv.' acts. To supplement tin- 

book and to give a fuller and wider treatment of the 
chief erest a reading-Look of geography should 

be used. Tln> >h..uld rontain MiitaLle extracts 1'p-m 
such works as have already been recommended tor the 


teacher's own reading. 1 The class library, too, slioul 1 con- 
tain a number of good books on geography and travel to 
which the pupils should be referred, and opportunities 
should be given them to study such books in school and to 
make notes on what they read. 

Descriptions should be supplemented by pictures, 
sketches, diagrams, models, and specimens. 
Sketches etc Gr e g ra phv cannot be taught successfully 
without pictures. The pictures should 
either be presented as lantern slides or should be largo 
enough to be examined by the whole class. At the sumo 
time smaller pictures, such as can be cut from illustrate* I 
papers, are not to be despised. The pupils should be 
encouraged to collect these and bring thom to school. 
They can examine them one by one after the lesson or in 
their leisure time. 

Sketching on the blackboard is an art which every teacher 
should acquire. By placing rapidly on the board a bold, 
striking outline he can draw the pupils' attention to just 
those essentials and details that he wishes to einph;i 
Such an outline sketch is frequently of more value 
than an elaborate picture giving a host of unessential 
details that only obscure the main point. It has the 
further advantage of being sufficiently simple to be copied 
by the pupils in their note-books. The same remarks 
apply to diagrams and models. They should be plain and 
simple in structure so as to represent clearly the ideas they 

Specimens of products, of material in various stages of 
manufacture, of rocks, and fossils are valuable means of 
adding interest and value to the teaching. They should 

1 Such books as the Descriptive G'eo,vm///m > from Ori'jinal Sources 
and Mn <uxl hi" Work, published by Messrs. A. and C. Black, are 
interesting and suitable. 


be displave I in u museum in some definite and systematic 
onler. Each specimen should have a label attached statin-- 
what it is. whence it conies, for what it is used, and its 
chief characteristics. The pupils then in their leisure time 
can examine the museum with profit. 

Maps hold an important place in the teaching of geo- 
graphy. Two forms of maps should be in 
constant use : photo-relief or orographic 
maps which, by means of shading or colouring, will indi- 
cate the contour of a country and from which the physical 
features can be studied, and sketch-maps drawn by the 
teacher on the blackboard or on black canvas. The latter 
>1 10 1 ild be filled in as the teaching progresses, so that they 
will contain only those features and names which the 
teacher wishes the pupils to memorise. Each will thus be 
a summary. More than one sketch-map of a country may 
be required, as besides physical features and towns, coal 
fields, industrial and agricultural areas should be marked 
by shading in coloured chalks. 

ich pupil should have a blank map on which, as the 
lesson proceeds, he should mark the features and names 
taught. Then at the end of the lesson he will have a 
part ial summary of the matter taught. Such a map should 
be drawn in his note-book so that it can be preserved for 
purposes of revision and memorising. An excellent \\av 
of securing revi -ion and memorising of the main outlines 
of the geography of a country is to require the pupils to 
sketch boldly and quickly from memory a map of the 
country, showing the main features and towns, and indi- 
cating by various devices the industrial, mining, and 
agricultural centres. Such a map drawn rapidly, yet 
accurately as to broad outline, i> of f;ir --n \iter v;ilue than 
a careful and neat colon iv, 1 pro-luetmn over which hours nuv 
have been most uupioiitai.U spent. 1 .ing the pupils 


to draw such a map from memory the teacher should give 
them an opportunity of learning it. They should grasp 
clearly the prominent divisions and features of the country 
in relation to each other. As a rule, the river basins, with 
the mountains around them, are good centres to start from. 
For example, in memorising the map of France, the four 
main river basins, with the general direction and relative 
position of the rivers, should first be noted. Dijon is a 
good centre on which to fix the eye in the comparison. It 
will be seen that Havre, Nantes, Bordeaux, Marseilles are, 
roughly speaking, about equal distances from Dijon; that 
the general dim-lion of three of the rivers from this point 
is respectively north-west, west, and south, and that the 
direction of the fourth the Garonne is in the main parallel 
to that of the Seine. The rivers being thus located, the 
positions of the mountains should be grasped in connection 
with them. The relative position of these features ha 
been fixed the pupils should study the line of longitude 
2E. By means of this line the positions of Dunkirk, 
Calais, Amiens, Paris, Orleans, Limoges, Toulouse, and 
the eastern end of the Pyrenees can be renieml 
Cherbourg, Nantes, Bayonne will be seen, roughly speaking, 
to lie on another line by which the projecting peninsula of 
Brittany, the ' sleeve ' of Normandy and the west coast 
of France can be marked. The coast line and land frontier 
can then be roughly sketched in bold outline only, so as 
simply to suggest the main contour of the land and 
frontier. The pupils should draw the map in the order 
outlined above, and endeavour to fix the main features aiid 
their relative positions firmly in their minds by means of 
the devices suggested. Certainly not longer than ten 
minutes should be taken for this sketch. A second draw- 
ing from memory, assisted by observation when memory 
fails, should not occupy so long a time. A third sketch 


ontiivly from memory should complete the learning within 
half an hour. Such drawing is a most valuable means of 
memorising the main features of a country. 

<'h pupil should have a good atlas, and be taught how 
to use it. l Sometimes it is well to make the first lesson on 
a country the study of the map, and to discover what can 
be learnt from the map alone. Atlases and blank sketch- 
maps should always be used when the pupils are studying 
from text-books or reading-books in history or geography. 
Finally, memorising must not be forgotten. The draw- 
ing of sketch-maps both during and after 
the teaching will aid in this, yet there is 
much information that cannot be summarised and learnt 
in this way. Such information should be retained by the 
pupil in the form of brief concise notes, yet full enough 
to contain the main outline. At first such a summary will 
be placed on the blackboard by the teacher as the lesson 
progresses. In the later years the pupils should be trained 
to take notes of their own which, combined with the leading 
headings placed on the board by the teacher, will serve for 
t hriu to make a more complete outline summary for perma- 
nent retention. Summaries of the chapters read from the 
reading-books should also be made. These summaries and 
notes are most conveniently written on pages facing the 
sketch-maps illustrative of the points to which they refer. 
All such notes should be thoroughly memorised, and the 
pupils should not infrequently be required to write 
essays or to answer questions in writing on the work 
thus learnt. 

1 Such Silases 08 the M ami tin- /;/./ nfnrt/ At 

: <-e Geograjtlii/. pul>lislic<l l>y Messrs. Philip, contain use- 
ful maps hhi\\intf contour l.y ,ns. These may bo 
! l.y <.ro^rajhic sheet im]i<>rtant 
I, tiiii one penny each.) 




7/6 (Heinemann). 
15/- (Newnes). 

15/- (Stanford). 

3/6 (Longmans). 
4/6 (Macmillan). 

The following books are recommended to the teacher : 
On Historical Geography : 

See the books recommended at the end of the chapter on History, p. 275. 
On the Subject-Matter ofGeograjJti/: 

Mackinder (Editor) : Regions of the 
World Series each 

Mill : The International Geography ... 

Stanford's Compendium of Geography, 
12vols each 

Mill: Hints to Teachers and Student .- 
on the Choice of Geographical Books 

Highways and Byways Series . . . each 

Herbertson : Descriptive Geographies 
of the World, 6 vols each 2/6 (A. and C. Black). 

Andrews and Herbertson : The Geo- 
graphical Teacher 5/- pel-annum (Philip). 

(A magazine published under the auspices of the Geographl al A>.-o. -iaiimi, 
! three tunes a year.) 

Catalogue of the Geographical Exhibi- 
tion 6d. (Philip). 

(Supplement to Vol. II. of The Geographical Teacher.) 

Herbertson : Man and His Work ... 1/6 (A. an<l ( '. \',\.v -k \. 

Herbertson: Outlines of Physiography 4 (id-:. Ann. Id). 

Huxley : Physiography ... ... <i - (Macmillan). 

Jarr: Elementary Physical Geography 7 ii i Macinillan). 

Mnpsand Atlases: 
Debes : Neuer Handatlas ... ... 30/- ( Leipzi LT. \ Vu ic i i i 

and l)cl" 
Andrews and Dickinson : Diagram 

Hand Atlas 3/- (Philip). 

Bartholomew: Maps, each I/- (Bartholomew). 
Smith, Moss, and Rankin : Geographi- 
cal Distribution of Vegetation in 
Yorkshire, Parts I. and II. ... each 1/6 (Bartholomew). 



1. NATURE Study is a new name for an old subject. 
Our grandfathers called it natural history ; 
Meaning of ami this subject, in their day, included a 
o*r at N^uSr dy knowledge of animals, plants, and rocks. 
History. After a time, the study of rocks was dis- 

sociated from that of living things, and our 
fathers then studied geology or biology. The biologists 
lung to the old name, and still spoke of their subject as 
natural history and of themselves as naturalists. Still 
later the process of specialisation was carried a stage 
further. anl the study of animals became distinct from 
that of ]>lants; so that to-day there are many zoologists 
MI; my liotanists, but few biologists. The zoologists of 
iv often reserve to themselves the title of naturalists, 
even when their >tudy is almost confined to a single 
j. of animals, such as birds, or insects, or butter- 
flies and moths. In this chapter we shall use the term 
natural hi-tory in its old-fashioned sense, and the term 
udy as >\nonynious with natural history as it 
should lw taught in schools. It must be borne in mind, 
bowerer, that one Mpect of the ^noni! suij--i is 
in tin- rh.ij.t.-r n geography. 


Natural history, whichever of its meanings be attached 

to the term, is not a subject which has been 
Natural generally taught in the primary schools 

Sdioote. m f this country; consequently there exists 

but little tradition as to how the subject 
should or should not be taught. Not infrequently, how- 
ever, enthusiastic naturalists who were schoolmasters by 
vocation introduced the subject, in a more or less informal 
manner, into their own schools. Such teachers, being full 
of enthusiasm, and having a thorough knowledge of the 
subject, did excellent work in nature study, even before 
the latter term was invented. In so far as there is any 
tradition at all with regard to nature study, that is, natural 
history as a school subject, the tradition is due to these 
schoolmaster naturalists, who regarded the subject as 
largely an out of door subject concerned with the common 
objects of the country side, and this tradition is worthy of 
all respect. 

Object lessons, however, have long been given in 

many primary schools. In 1899, when such 
Nature Study lessons were regarded as one of the 'class 
Lessons^ subjects,' 95 per cent, of the schools which 

took class subjects presented object lessons. 
It has been usual to include in the lists of such lessons 
some whose titles at least had relation to natural history. 
Only when object lessons deal with common natural 
objects, and when the lessons are illustrated by the actual 
objects themselves, may the subject be regarded as having 
any definite relation to nature study. Object lessons in 
the past have been of little worth as instruments of 
education through the neglect of these two principles. 
Instead of lessons on blackbirds and bluebells, attempts 
were made to give lessons on the giraffe and the sago- 
palm ; and though the lessons were described as object 


us, they were frequently given without illustrative 
objects, and thus were not, in any real sense, object lessons 
at all, for neither diagrams nor models are effective as 
substitutes for the actual objects. 

The above weaknesses of object lessons are to some 
extent remediable, but there is another 

Inherent weakness which is inherent. Object lessons 

Defects of r 

Object Lessons. are > * necessity, more or less disconnected 

one with another. This is palpably the case 
in the lists of subjects of object lessons which are found 
in most schools, where a lesson on india-rubber may 
be preceded by one on a glacier and succeeded by one on 
coal. It is to some extent the case in any list of object 
lessons which may be drawn up. Lessons on objects 
merely can scarcely be other than detached one from 
another, can scarcely be framed on general principles, and, 
therefore, can scarcely ever lead to any definite result. By 
their nature they degenerate into lessons in which the 
teacher imparts miscellaneous items of general inforina- 
ii"ii, which the children are expected to remember. 
Consequently the lessons are often tedious, formal, ami 
dull : interest is rarely aroused ; and there is little or no 
call on the pupils' powers of observation and construction. 
In nature lessons the objects to be studied are such as 
come under the frequent observation of the 

Subject Matter p U pii s Common plants, common lini>. 

of Nature 

Study. common insects, provide excellent material 

classes engaged in nature study. The 
pupils should, for example, be taught how to identify, at 
any season of the year, the common trees of the distri.-i 
This entails a knowledge ,!' their lurk. iwi-_rs. Mi. Is. leaves, 

uits, seeds, and seedlings. The common 
Mr-Is slnnil'l ! known ii"1 only by ihr; and 

plumage, but to some extent by their metho.l> ,.i i light 


whether undulating or direct, and by their motion when 
on the ground whether they hop or walk. A few winter 
migrants should be known, more summer migrants, and a 
still greater number of the birds which are resident in the 
district all the year round. 

The commonest butterflies should be studied. They 
should be known by their colours and to some extent by 
their positions when at rest. The time of their first 
appearance during the year should be noted, whether or 
not they disappear long before the summer is over, and, if 
so, whether they reappear during the autumn. The pupils 
should find out on which plants the eggs are laid, and on 
which the caterpillars feed. Then the rest of their life 
histories may be followed indoors. The habitats of the 
common flowers should be discovered, and eventually the 
pupils should be able to predict whether a given district 
is a likely one for, say, bluebells, cowslips, foxgloves, or 
1 leather. The facts and principles governing the respira- 
tion and the food of plants and animals may be studied 
even in the lower years ; and in the intermediate and upper 
y-ars the elements generally of the physiology of plants 
and animals should furnish material for experimental 

Nature study is neither botany, nor zoology, nor geology, 
nor any branch of these sciences, nor any 
Nature Studv P 088 ^ 6 combination of them, though its 
subject-matter is largely the subject-matter 
of these sciences. It is scarcely possible, and it is certainly 
not desirable, to fix the precise limits of what is included 
under the term ' Nature Study.' In its widest sense, it is 
the attempt to find out for oneself all that one can about 
common natural objects and common natural phenomena. 
It therefore concerns itself with the simple facts of zoology, 
botany, and physical geography, though the formal study 


of tliese sciences is beyond its range. The purely technical 
terms may, and should, usually be avoided and ignored. 

irse of lessons in nature study is not to be found in a 

list uf miscellaneous subjects, but should consist in the 

statement of a few simple problems. The actual lessons 

;ld be concerned with finding the solutions of these 

problems. It is right that individual teachers with 

es for particular aspects of nature study should 

prominence to their favourite points of view ; but in 
all cases the lessons should cover a wide field, and should 
at least include lessons on flowers, seeds, insects, and 

Nature study brings the child into his right relation 

with the objective world which surrounds 

Nature Study ^ m - ^ increases his powers of perception 

a Right and expression. It develops his activities. 

li traius his mind ' It; teach es him ulti- 
mately his own place in the scheme of 
nature. It widens his outlook on things, and enables him 
to live a fuller and a brighter life. It enables him to see 
things as they really are, and to comprehend their true 
significance. It kindles or stimulates a desire to know 
more of what he sees, and culminates in a keen interest in 
all natural objects and phenomena. The seeing eye, the 
ir. and the understanding heart are rare posses- 
B. It is the chief object of nature study to train 
rliiMivn in Mich a way that they will Income possessed of 
these gifts and retain them through life. 

Nature study is not suc<v>sful unless it arouses an 
inter. >t in, ami s> lead.-, to a knowledge of, 

Country ^ tn<> ^''' ''''"' M><>nn :-: s n| u<>nderand 

d-liirht which an ordinary man experiences 

D he takes a country ramMe in company with a true 

naturalist one who studies things, not merely the names 


of things is a measure of the gain to be expected from the 
study of nature, and a measure of the loss at present 
sustained through its neglect. Children in rural districts, 
when they leave school, should be in sympathy with their 
surroundings, and should be willing to take an intelligent 
interest in rural pursuits. Suburban and town children 
also should have developed such an interest in nature that, 
though their vocations may compel them to spend much 
of their time amid the turmoil of city life, they will yet 
visit the streams and woods and hills of the country as 
often as their circumstances permit. Nature study is u 
strong and a safe antidote against the shallowiiess and 
the sensationalism of modern city life. 

Nature study lends itself to the inculcation of scientific 
method by the exact observation, description, 

A Foundation an( j comparison of easily ascertained facts, 
for Science , ,. : , 

Teaching. an< ^ "J the solution of simple problems sug- 
gested by those facts. It is not the study 
of any of the specific sciences, yet it provides a sure 
foundation for such subjects should they be studied in 
later years. Many of the best teachers of science have 
now formed the opinion that the teaching of specific 
sciences to children of less than fifteen years of age is, 
and must be, a failure, that the huge amounts of money 
which have in recent years been spent on laboratories, 
equipment, and salaries for this branch of teaching have 
been a waste of public funds, and that all such teaching 
should be replaced by some form of nature work. The 
development of habits of observation, description, and 
carefully guarded inference by nature work fits a 
youth for a sound course of instruction in the specific 
sciences far better than the committing to memory of 
ill digested facts and theories of botany, physics, or 


Not only is nature study of direct benefit to those 
children who will later in life study the 
Literature sciences, it is also a necessity for a greater 
number who will have neither the desire 
nor the opportunity to become students of these subjects. 
The literature of a country can never be fully appreciated 
by those who are ignorant of nature, her ways, and her 
moods. Almost all our great writers, whether of prose or 
of poetry, have been students of nature: a few, who have 
not been such, have pretended to be : none has contemned 
nature. It is surely as important for British students to 
appreciate the references of these writers to the country 
side ..f their own land as to understand their allusions 
to Greek mythology. 

It has been held that nature study has a moral aspect, 

and the teacher should constantly have this 
Ethical Value. . . ... . / 

point ot view in his mind. It is, however, 

unwise to put this aspect before young pupils. Long years 
mmunion with nature may develop a Wordsworth or 
a Bichard Jeffries, but it may be questioned whether this 
:able consummation is to be reached by sermons, even 
when they are disguised in stones or flowers or birds. 
The teacher will have no lack of opportunities for arousing 
in his pupils a love of nature. He will not need to seek 
occasions for inculcating such desirable virtues as kindness 
to animals. Good intentions on the teacher's pa it to incul- 
cate moral instruction through nature study should always 
be subconscious in his mi ml, I nit they need be but rarely 
expressed. A I < >ve all, any affectation on the matter should 
be suppressed, both by teacher ami pupil. A healthy love 
MfflBr obtrusive. Advertisement in this regard 
gavour> ..f Ir, ; UK! at U-st \\ill only form the j,: 

3. The metho.l of teaching should be observational. 
descriptive, and experimental ; and easy 


inferences and simple general conclusions should be drawn 
from the observations and experiments. The 
of^eaching. observations, descriptions, comparisons, expe- 
riments, and deductions should be made by 
the pupils themselves. The teacher should only guide the 
efforts of his pupils : he should, as a rule, neither supply 
the information nor perform the experiments. An infor- 
mation lesson is not a nature lesson. In the former the 
teacher does the bulk of the work : in the latter the work 
is performed by the pupils, who act under the teacher's 
directions. In a good nature lesson each pupil handles 
objects, examines them, draws them, performs experiments 
with them, and finds out something about them. There 
can be little doubt that this method of teaching the 
subject is easily practicable in rural and suburban schools, 
provided only that the teacher is in sympathy with the 
purpose of nature study. 

Nature study makes school life more palatable to child- 
ren. It is found by experience that while 
Tim^Table ^ ew c l asses are ever roused to enthusiasm 1 > v 
grinding at the English system of wei^liis 
and measures or at the intricacies of English spelling, 
practically all classes who do nature work exhibit great 
interest in it and display a great fondness for it. Nature 
lessons, especially at first, should be of a simple character, 
and of short duration. They may very fittingly be given 
towards the end of the day, when the pupils have bet-on it- 
languid and listless. The children are easily aroused to 
brightness during a nature lesson ; and a judicious use of 
this fact makes nature study of indirect benefit to the 
more formal studies. About two to three hours a week 
should be devoted to the subject, and iliis time should 
be so spaced as to allow of three or four lessons each 


- in the heart of large cities have special diffi- 
culties to contend with, which can only be 
Larse Cities appreciated fully by those who have actual 
knowledge of the working of such schools. 
ill probably be found, in actual practice, that a more 
led course of instruction in handicraft and physical 
measurements, and an elementary course of study in 
hanics, should be largely substituted for the 
: nature study, though it is undesirable that city 
chiL i Id grow up totally ignorant of the beauties of 

the country side. We are acquainted with slum schools 
Mure study is taken, though the difficulties are 
alun rable. Shop flowers and smoky parks have 

to be substituted for the flowers and trees of the hedgerows 
and woods. There is an excellent scheme in Manchester 
whereliy the children of city schools are taken to a 
special sch-.ol in the heart of Cheshire, where such children 
may continue their regular school instruction, and also, for 
t space of two weeks, breathe pure air, pluck 
Mt'ul flowers, and observe nature in her true garb. 1 
In some cases it is found possible to meet the small 
:\e<l iii taking the children occasionally by 
or train to the outskirts of the town when 1 they are 
within iva-h of the country side. 

4. It is one of the most melancholy things in the 

teaching profession to find a teacher taking 

Training of n.ilmv study in a or elas> when lie is 

Nature Study. ; i.orant !' t he subject. The case 

is Bonn-times made still more pitiable by the 

teacher's pretence of taking an interest in the work 

because, a ..",\hat of a fad in 

certain piart- to do so. It can 

scarcely be expect* M a rule, teachers will IT 


to conduct a class in nature study successfully unless 
they have had some training in the work. 

Training ^ * s true tnat some educational thinkers 

have held that training in this work is not 
essential to a teacher who begins such work with his 
pupils, provided that he possesses a love of nature, a 
habit of close observation, and a desire to learn with his 
pupils. On the other hand, it may be urged that this love of 
nature, this habit of close observation, and this willingness 
to learn with pupils are qualities the possession of which 
is not usual among mankind, and that their posses- 
sion in any one does imply some previous self-training at 
the least. Without some special effort to develop these 
qualities, they are likely to remain dormant in ordinary 
mortals. If a teacher possess these qualities, together 
with a knowledge of the facts of the subject, then indeed 
is he an ideal teacher in nature study. 

As time goes on, nature study will be included in the 
curriculum of most or all schools. At 
Pup^Teachers P resent however, it is so rarely taken that 
it is safest to assume that when yoim^ 
people enter on their pupil-teacher course they know 
nothing about it. Hence, some instruction in the subject 
should be included in all schools or colleges which 
are concerned with the education of pupil teachers. 
This is the case in many such institutions at the present 
time, and the subject under the too ambitious name of 
biology may be taken in the examination which concludes 
the apprenticeship of pupil teachers. As, however, the 
subject is only an optional branch of an optional 
subject, there is no certainty that any pupil teacher 
at the end of his apprenticeship knows anything what- 
ever about the subject. Nature study ought to be 
taken as one of the subjects in every secondary school, 


and i 'specially in those schools and centres which receive 
pupil teachers. 

There is, thus, no certainty that a student entering a 
training college knows anything whatever 
about natural history, and, as a matter of 
fact, the majority of such students never have 
studied the subject. It is also to be feared that this 
statement applies to the staff. There is, thus, no guarantee 
that a t mined and certificated teacher knows anything 
about nature study. This undesirable state of things 
cannot be remedied until the subject is well taught by 
comjjetent teachers in all training colleges to those 
students who wish to become proficient in it. When this 
is done, there will thus be secured a body of efficient 
teachers who will be able to take charge of the subject in 
the schools to which they may be appointed. And as the 
study is effective only when it is led by one with a real 
love of nature, it will always be best to place the subject 
in the hands of teachers specially qualified. 

Many local authorities in rural districts have done 
something to help adult teachers to fit 

Special Classes themselves to teach natural history by 
for Adult , , ,. , . , , . / , J . 

Teachers. establishing classes in the subject conducted 

by well qualified persons; and in lar^v 

kl and citi-s it is not difficult for teachers to attend 

iug classes in natural history, or in botany, zoology, 

and physiology, in which they may learn the nece^ 

facts. The in>i ruction given to adult teachers should in 

all cases be of a more advanced character than that given 

in schools, and should include a course in the elementary 

j.i iu ij.lcs of biology, in addition to a moderately detailed 

>tudv of common animals and plants. The work should 

l>e merely ol-s.-rvational : it must l>e largely experi- 



Whilst, however, the chief facts and the general prin- 
ciples of nature study may be acquired in 
Excursions ^ e wa> J s above indicated, yet that love of the 
country side which should be characteristic 
of all teachers of nature, and which should be implanted in 
all students of nature, cannot be acquired in the class-room 
or laboratory. This right relation to the outside world 
can only come from actual contact with nature herself. 
Frequent excursions into the country must be taken, and 
the features and phenomena of nature closely observed. 
Much may be done in this direction by anyone on his own 
behalf, though many people require the stimulus of com- 
pany. If a teacher can accompany a good naturalist on 
his excursions, he will do well to avail himself of all 
opportunities of doing so. 

Some natural history societies now invite the active 
co-operation of teachers of natural history. 
Natural an( j they would be wise to join such societies. 

Societies. Some societies are perhaps not worth joini n^ ; 

but those whose members make frequent 
journeys into the country, whose annual fees and excur- 
sion expenses are low, and whose active workers include 
people well versed in important branches of natural 
history, may render, and in many cases are now rendering, 
excellent aid to teachers which the latter will seek else- 
where in vain. 

In most subjects much inspiration may be obtained 
from books. This is less true of nature 

o?BooS! 8 stu( ty than of other sheets- The teacher 
of nature must find his subject-matter and 
his inspiration in nature herself. At the same time, there 
are a few a very few books which have been written 
about nature which will be of help to the teacher if properly 
used. The book on nature study or natural history which 


is of ival service to its readers is one which gives an 
nit of the author's own observations, his own experi- 
ments, aiid his own deductions, and which inspires its 
readers ultimately to make other observations, experiments, 
and deductions for themselves. 

Many teachers desire a book with ready made lessons 
written out for them, with the facts of each lesson arranged 
under suitable headings, and with suggestions as to how 
these i'a.-ts may be imparted. There is not, and never can 
K-. any Look written on such lines that is worth reading, 
and no efficient teacher will ever seek or use such a book. 
v are, it is to be regretted, many such books published, 
and extensively advertised in school journals. Their great 
sale is some proof that many teachers have not yet realised 
the meaning of the term 'nature study,' and a perusal of 
the l>ooks themselves is proof that the authors are in no 
better plight. In some such books, even the elementary 
facts are sometimes incorrect. In more than one of them 
it is still asserted that plants breathe only during the 
niirlit! One book, isMu-d with the approval of a highly 
placet! otli.-ial and provided gratis to teachers by many 
local authorities, asserts that the sap of plants ascends to 
the leaves through the pith ! 

It is unfortunately impossible to print a list of books on 
nature study or object lessons which teachers would lo 
well to avoid ; l>ut a list of books which should be of help 
to teachers of natural hi story is given at the end of the 
chapter. The list is not exhaustive, only those be in.; 
mentioned with which we are personally familiar, but 
good books on nature study are distinctly uncommon. 
Some books, excellent in m^t respects, are partial failures 
because th-ir authors do not understand the limitations 
either of the average schoolmaster <r of th<> average school 

rhild, and contain instructions which would be exn-llent if 


they were intended for university students, but which are 
ludicrous if intended even for the oldest pupils of a 
primary school. 

5. If nature study is to be profitable, out-door work is 
not merely highly desirable : it is absolutely 
Tetching^of essential - Class excursions should be under- 
Natural taken as often as is practicable. There 

History should be at the least four excursions each 

the Nature 

Excursion. J ea>T ne m 8 P nn g> one m summer, one in 
autumn, and one in winter. The same 
ground should be traversed on each of these four ex- 
cursions, and the varying aspects of nature noted. If 
more than four excursions are undertaken, other routes 
may be chosen. The ground to be traversed should be 
carefully chosen. It should not be of great extent, but 
it should, if possible, be of varied character. Too many 
children should not be present on an excursion. If only 
one teacher is present, about twenty children may accom- 
pany him. If two teachers are present, the number 
may be increased to about thirty. It is doubtful if the 
nature excursion can be rendered profitable if more than 
thirty-five children form the party. Each pupil should 
take with him on the excursion a pocket book, a pencil, a 
penknife, and, if possible, a pocket lens. At certain places 
the teacher should gather his pupils around him, and 
ascertain that the right things are being studied. At such 
times entries and sketches may conveniently be made in 
the note-book. A few boxes, tins, and bottles, for the 
proper carrying of specimens, should also be taken. 

Each excursion should have some definite object, which 
should, in a general way, be made clear to the class before 
the commencement, otherwise, so much is there to see out 
of doors, attention will be too diffused and distracted 
to be useful. It rests with the teacher to make quite 


certain that each member of the class is fully occupied 
during the excursion, or valuable time will be wasted in 
profitless chatter. The teacher should go over the ground 
beforehand, and have his mind made up as to the par- 
ticular thing to which attention is chiefly to be drawn. 

But the excursion must not become too stereotyped, 
and actual and original observations by the children 
must receive recognition. The pupils must be taught 
to see things for themselves and by themselves, and 
this power is one that is of rare occurrence in both 
children and adults, and one most difficult to develop. 
Any average individual can see what he is told to see, 
or easily persuade himself that he sees it; but the 
nature excursion to a great extent fails of its purpose 
it' it does not develop in the pupils the power of 
making original observations. A too rigid adherence to 
an excursion programme tends to check these original 
observations : whilst, on the other hand, an excursion 
without a definite object in view tends to become dis- 
cursive and unprofitable. It is equally a mistake to set 
out on an excursion with no definite aim in mind, and to 
give to earh pupil written or printed instructions telling 
him what objects to look for and where they may be 
found. Between these two extremes it is the duty of the 
teacher of nature study to find some happy mean. 

Tin- determination of common trees by their buds and 

bark furnishes an excellent object for a 
Excurafon nature excursion in winter or early spring 

for pupils of about ' of ap-. The 

pupils should U- asked to find some trees with rough bark. 
and some trees with smooth hark. This done, the\ should 
be sent to re-visit tin- same trees, and to notice the kind* 
!' l.ud-; found "ii tin- trees with smooth bark and on \\\,^<> 
with r"U'_ r h lurk iv>|M-.-t i\ely . Of tin* smooth-barked 



some will be found to have long and pointed buds, brown 
in colour, and others to have stout buds, green in colour. 
The buds on the former are arranged alternately one on 
each side of the young twigs, whilst on the latter the buds 
are arranged in opposite pairs, each pair at right angles to 
the pair above and below it. The former tree the pupils 
si ion Id be told is the beech, the latter the sycamore. 

Of the rough-barked trees some have black buds 
arranged like those of the sycamore : these are ash trees. 
Others have brown buds, and these need discriminating. 
The pupils should be asked to try to place them in two 
groups, classifying them by the arrangement of the buds 
on the young twigs. They may need some guidance at 
this stage. This done, the arrangement of the buds of 
the two kinds should be described by the children. Those 
twigs with brown buds, from the rough-barked trees, 
whose buds are arranged spirally all round are specimens 
of oak, and those whose buds are arranged alternately 
on two sides (like the buds of the beech) are specimens 
of elm. Finally, the trees from which the specimens have 
been taken should be observed as wholes, and their 
general size and form noted. 

Other trees will probably be met with on the excursion, 

and perhaps some of those mentioned above 

The District will not be seen. It depends on the teacher 

FuHy ^ l to make the most of the P ossibilities of the 
ground traversed. If lime trees are met 
with, they may be identified by the smooth bark and brown 
buds arranged alternately. If birches occur, they will be 
easily noted by their characteristic bark brown and white, 
flakey and polished and by the delicate tracery their buds 
make against the sky. Questions will probably be asked 
about the unopened catkins of the birch. If ripe catkins 
of the hazel are found near at hand, there will be little 


difficulty in answering the questions at once ; but if not, 
the answer had better be postponed until the birch rat kins 
a iv ripe, and the pupil who has asked the question should 
be deputed to bring some such specimen to the class in 
April or May. 

In many districts firs, pines, and larches are abundant, 
and will demand attention on the excursion. The leaves 
of the pine and the fir are evergreen, while the larch is 
deciduous. Those of the pine are needle-shaped, and 
arranged in groups of two, three, or five. The leaves of 
the tii- aiv single. Those of the larch, when they do appear 
in April or May, are found to be arranged in clusters of 
al)out a dozen. In some districts oaks are absent, birches 
absent >r ran>, hornbeams fairly abundant. The par- 
ticular trees which must be studied are those which are 
abundant near the school. It will be seen, then, that the 
teacher, to conduct a nature excursion successfully, must 
possess a deep and varied knowledge of outdoor life, and he 
must IK- acquainted with the intricacies and peculiarities of 
his own school district. 

Whilst studying the trees on this excursion interesting 

things may l>e noted which have little or 

Phenomena nothing to do with the particular object of 

the excursion. Perhaps a hare or a f<>\ may 

be seen cnsing tin- fit-Ids. IVrhips squirrels ma\ be 

v.-d among the branches of tin- trees. IVrhaps a. 

hibernating dorauraue may be found in its spherical nest 

of li 1' Mie winter mi-rants tiel 1-fares or 

redwing may be seen in the gardens or tields. The 
teacher must decide li.iw far >udi unrehearsed items shall 
be discussed. Anything which furnishes a rare oppor- 
tunity for observation should !* turned to good account 
by the teacher and his class; and this need not interfere 
with the particular >tud\ for \\hieli the rxeursion is I 


undertaken. After all, it is of greater importance that 
a unique sight should be carefully observed than that a 
particular scheme of carrying out a lesson or excursion 
should not be interrupted. 

The excursion must be correlated with class work. An 
account of the excursion should be written 

bv each P u P iL This exercise should be set 


in class at the earliest opportunity. The 

object is not to train the memory, but to ensure that the 
most is being made by the pupils of their opportunities. 
Consequently, the pocket note-books which the pupils used 
on the excursion may be consulted by them when writing 
out this account. The written account should be put in 
the class note-book which is used for nature study, and 
should be illustrated by sketches elaborated from the 
pocket note-books. Specimens brought back from the 
excursion may also be again observed by the pupils when 
writing out this essay. The older pupils should be able to 
write quite good essays, but the accounts of the younger 
pupils will be bald and crude at first. Spelling and syntax 
need not, at first, be regarded as matters of primary 
importance. What is of importance is that the pupil 
hould cultivate the power of expressing in his own words 
what lie has seen and learnt. 

Many of the specimens brought back from excursions 
are such that they admit of preservation 
Gathered 8 without difficulty. Twigs of trees are such 
objects. These should be utilised as speci- 
mens for the school museum, that is, they should be so 
placed that they may be seen and observed by the pupils 
at any time whilst lessons on nature are in progress. 

It is, we hope, unnecessary to say that the school excur- 
sion need not be the occasion of any acts of vandalism. 
Twigs must not be ruthlessly torn from trees. If they are 


cut carefully with a penknife, the tree will not sulTer ; 
and tlit> s;mu> remark applies to flowers. "Orchis pluck, 
oivhis kill: Orchis cut, orchis still," is an old country 
rhvme which should be constantly in the teacher's mind 
when he is leading an excursion. If animals are exam- 
ined, all semblance of cruelty should be avoided, and 
thev should be set free without their having suffered 
injury. If they are carried back to school, it must be 
in such a way as not to injure them, and at the earliest 
possiM* 1 moment they must be put in a suitable place. 
Pond animals are easily carried in water in bottles. 
Aquatic animals from streams will not as a rule live in the 
stagnant water of an aquarium, and they should not be 
experimented with in this direction. In the aquarium 
they will only die and foul the water. Not more than one 
animal should, as a rule, be carried in one receptacle, as 
m.t animals are to some extent carnivorous. 
An excursion with the above object should be followed 
by lessons on the flowers, leaves, fruits, seeds, 
Subsequent all( | seedlings of the trees examined on the 
Excursions. excursion. The leaves of the trees furnish a 
suitable object for a summer excursion. The 
flowers of the trees could not all le met with on a single 
rsion, as they appear at different times of the year. 
Tin- towers, then, should l>e studied in class as t hey appeal- 
on the trees. The flowers of the elm appear in March and 
those of the ash during April, in both cases when the tree> 
are bare of leaves. 'The sycamore and biivh fl.\ver durum- 
late April .r early May, whilst the leaves are unfolding 
and enlarging. The oak and beech flower in May. and the 
flowers appear with the young leaves. A few trees such 
as the horse-chestnut and the lime produce their Ho\\ers 
diirinu' suiiiiii-r. \\lu-n th- are 1'ull gr.i\\ n. The 

MB the ftppeaimnoe of the flowers and leave* 


of particular trees furnishes a little problem which a class 
may very profitably be set to solve. 

Each school should l>e provided with copies of large scale 
maps of the district immediately surrounding 
the school. On one of these maps should be 
marked the usual routes of the school excursions, and the 
chief features, such as streams, ponds, hills, banks, com- 
mons, and woods, which are encountered on the excursions. 
The ordnance maps on the scale of six inches to the mile, 
issued by the Ordnance Survey Office, Southampton, are 
very suitable for this purpose; and the very cheap rate al 
\vhioli schools may now be supplied with these maps 
removes any objection which might be urged on financial 
grounds against the supply of at least one or two copies of 
these maps to each pupil in the upper years. 

A list of suitable objects to be studied in nature excur- 
sions is lien- appended. The list is intended 
Excursions * ^ 8U gg es t-ive and not exhaustive. Any 
good teacher of nature study could easily 
add more. 
In winter : 

Winter buds on trees and in the soil. 

Prickly plants hawthorn, gorse, briar, bramble, 

holly, thistle. 

Hibernation of common insects. 
Bird life in winter. 
In spring : 

Leaves and flowers of woodland plants. 

Songs and tiabits of birds. 
Insects of streams and ponds. 
In summer: 

A hayfield. Grasses in flower. 
Ferns and horsetails. 


1'ollination of llowers. liees at work. 

'erpillars and butterflies. 
In autumn : 

A cornfield. A study of weeds. 
Fruits and their methods of dispersal. 
LV-ident and migratory birds. 
Kinds of insects. 

Many schools, no\v-a-d:iys. have gardens attached, and 
I'-ssons ill gardening often i'orin a < Infinite 
Jardens portion of the curriculum. School gardens 

ought lobe of great assistance to the pupils 
in nature study as well as in gardening. The mature 
stages of peas, U-ans, and other annuals should l>e studied 
from the specimens raised in the gardens, though the 
earlier stages of these plants are best studied from speci- 
mens which have been raised in the class-room in boxes of 
damp sawdust or cocoanut fibre. Certain organs, such 
as root hairs, are only seen to advantage in specimens 
raised in this latter way. Bulbs, tubers, tap-roots, and 
other underground organs of perennial and biennial plants 
may also be studied similarly, the adult stages being 
studied in the gard*n and the earlier stages from specimens 
\\luch have U-en sprouted indoors in boxes of sawdust and 
! water. 

-cluMil should have a properly e<)iiipj>ed aquarium 

stocked with water plants, snails, and a tew 

dl ti>hes. Aquaria with ilat bottoms will 

IN* found much more mani^eable than thoM with round 

I'ttom8. Each yearli of development of 1 he fro U ' 

should 1)6 Watched, and the emergence of some perfect ilv 

from iu a-jiiatic pupa. In addition to the aquarium. 

Kottl-s containing one a|iiali<- plant anl one <-r 1\\o 

small a. piatic animals an- ;il>o de>ii-al.le. It will be found 

that the dcveloj f young niails from snails 


eggs, and of perfect insects from pupae and larvae, will 
afford never-failing interest to the pupils. The aquatic 
plants should be fixed to the bottom of the aquarium by 
means of stones and sand, and if suitable plants and 
animals are chosen the water need seldom be changed. 
The animals and plants which are utilised should, as far 
as possible, be chosen from the ponds near the school. 
The animals and plants which are found in streams are, as 
a rule, totally unsuited for life in the stagnant water of 

A terrarium is also a most desirable adjunct for nature 

study work. Just as an aquarium is a piece 
Terraria. ,, - , n . .. ,. 

of apparatus for studying aquatic life, so a 

terrarium is a device for studying terrestrial life. The 
terrarium need not be an expensive affair. We have seen 
an excellent terrarium made from an old soap box with 
llu- sidos removed, the long sides being then fitted with 
glass, and the short sides and top with a sheet of perforated 
zinc. The top was removable. The bottom was covered 
with three or four inches of soil in which grass and clover 
seeds were sprouting. A few young cabbage plants were 
planted at one end. Leaves of the nettle and other plants 
were added as required. In this terrarium, the life histories 
of common butterflies and moths, such as the cabbage 
white and the tortoiseshell butterflies, and the tiger and the 
vapourer moths, were enacted. Caterpillars were devour- 
ing the leaves, chrysalids were hanging in odd corners, and, 
after emergence, one or two perfect insects were retained, 
whilst the rest were set at liberty. The insects sipped a 
syrupy liquid of sugar and water, and sucked honey from 
flowers which were added from time to time, 

We have seen other terraria inhabited by frogs, toads, 
lizards, and young grass snakes. Occasionally, in schools, 
we have seen pet rabbits, dormice, and squirrels, and even 


a hedgehog and a mole. All this involves trouble for 
somebody, as the individual needs of each animal must 
lie attended to, not only during the school days, but also 
during week-ends and vacations. Many boys, however, 
keep pets at home, and the teacher may lighten his 
labours by deputing trustworthy pupils to tend the school 
Tin 1 work which the keeping of pets entails is well 
remunerated by the unfailing interest which is aroused, 
and by the never ending source of gratification and profit 
which follows. 

The pupils should be encouraged to keep diaries in which 

to enter interesting natural phenomena as 
Nature Diaries. , . , . 

they occur. A class diary should also be 

kept in which a summary of the events observed by the 
various pupils should be entered. The class diary may be 
placed in charge of one of the pupils, who, after a little 
help from the teacher, will be able to do the work quite 
well, and will take a great pride in doing it. The diaries 
of one year should be compared with those of previous 
years. It is only by this kind of work that the pupils 
will be enabled properly to study the seasonal succession 
of natural phenomena, and to say, with any degree of 
certainty, whether or not a given season is early or late. A 
f-w entries, such as should be placed in the diurie>. are 
jiven In-low: 

Feb. 3. Ha/el in flower, Jackson's Copse. 
7. Willow catkins showing white, Jackson's 

.. 18. Sycamore seedlings emerging from their cases, 

! 1 artley Farm. 

2'2. I Harold Hall brgin to be noisy. 

-*. Coltsfoot in flower on the railwav bank. 
28. Last few days very mild 
Mar. 1. Books commence building new nests and 


repairing old ones, Harold Hall. Celandine, 
dandelion, dog's mercury in flower. 
Mar. 13. Five wild geese seen at Sewage Works, 

18. Alder in flower, Lady Brook. Frog spawn 

and young tadpoles in Stroud's pond. 
,, 24.- Elm, lilac, and sycamore showing leaves. 
25. About forty rooks' nests at Harold Hall, or 

ten less than last year. 

28. Wagtails at Lady Brook. Thrush sitting 
at Jackson's Copse. Anemone in flower, 
Jackson's Copse. 

29. Heavy fall of snow, followed by rapid thaw. 
It appears to be a prevalent view amongst teachers 1 hat 
models and diagrams are great desiderata in 
Diagrams 1 - *^ ie e( l ur P men t of a school which does uat mv 
Should be made work; but what, after all, is the end aimed 
themselves 118 at ty the use of models and diagrams? Is 
it not to make clear the form, structure, and 
functions of the objects studied ? If so, it follows that 
models and diagrams are useless unless the objects, in 
addition to models and diagrams of them, are also ex- 
amined, and that bought models and diagrams of objects 
actually studied are superfluous. It also follows that if 
models and diagrams are made by the pupils them- 
selves from the natural objects, the value of the>e 
models and diagrams is considerably enhanced, for 
such work necessarily entails a more careful examina- 
tion of the actual objects, and a fuller understanding of 

Further, bought models and diagrams are expensive, 
and the money at the teacher's disposal for nature 
study may be more usefully expended in other ways. It is 
very discouraging on visiting a school where nature study 


is taken to be shown costly diagrams ami models, expensive 
- of dried tree- specimens, stuffed animals, and the 
like. Local authorities would perform an excellent service 
to ill,- cause of true nature teaching by refusing to buy 
such articles. Models, diagrams, and cases of specimens 
have little educational value unless they are made and 
fitted up by the children themselves from actual objects. 
Such scho..l-nialf or home-made specimens may not 
BM tin- >ame mechanical elaborateness or perfection as 
the bought article, but the former have served a higher 
educational purpose than the latter can ever hope to 

We have seen excellent models of fruits, such as apples, 
plums, and oranges, produced by children. In 
B 8 ' one case the models were made from fuller's- 
earth which was found near the school; but clay, plasti- 
cene, and other materials may at any time be purchased 
for the purpose. The models should be made and coloured 
from nature, not from other models or from pictures. 
S. .me should illustrate the external form and colour, and 
other> the f.irmand structure of sections. With a little 
inirenuit y. hinges may be attached, so that the models may 
ojH-n and shut. Such models, we repeat, are actually 
mad<* in some schools. Another set of models which 
\\r have seen illustrated explosive fruits, and, by the 
judicious use of whalebone and elastic. alYorded a v-r\ 
plausible imitation of the explosive fruits of the hair\ 
bitter cress, a common weed in lowland gardens. K\.n 
when tin- models ma<le in this way are not very lifelike. 
tin- attempts to make them so have resulted in a sounder 
knoul. -,]._',. ,,f the tilings modelled, and thus the elu- 
ii. il result is greater than is possible from the 
examination of e..sth models \\itlnmt reference to the 
actual object 


As a rule, bought diagrams are superfluous, and their 
place should be taken by large drawings 
Diagrams ^ inac ^ e by the children from the object. 
Fortunately, this aspect of nature study is 
now being much emphasised in certain quarters. It must 
l><- liornr in mind that it is no more one of the ends of 
nature study to train artists than it is to train scientists. 
It is, however, an important aim of the subject to 
cultivate the powers of observation and expression, and 
drawings and models must be judged in this light. 
Tin- drawing ami colouring of plants and animals from 
printed copies is no part of nature study. We have 
seen such work on view in nature study exhibitions, but 
surely it was out of place. One exhibit consisted of a 
number of colour washings of the snowdrops. The work 
was excellent from many points of view, but each paint in^ 
\\as like its fellows, and all were like the printed copy and 
singularly unlike the snowdrops of the gardens. The 
work was exivllrnt in its way, but it was not nature 

The drawing of natural objects should begin in the 
class where nature study itself begins, and 

Drawing should be continued in every higher class. 

Books and . . J . , 

Note-Books. -kvery object examined should be drawn. 

The drawings need not be criticised from 
the artistic standpoint : the teacher should be content if the 
child's powers of observation and expression are being fully 
developed. The drawings should be made in a note-book, 
and each drawing explained by notes. There should not 
be one book for drawings alone, and another for notes. 
The drawings may be in pencil during the earlier stages, 
but the power of drawing in ink should be cultivated later, 
especially in the case of specimens with simple form and 
outlines, such as leaves, fruits, and butterflies. 


The children should give an account in their own words 
of the things they see and examine. Some 

Oral and difficulty in this matter will be encountered 

Written . ... , ,, 

Descriptions. ll * hi* s t, as it is not easy, even tor adults, 

when dealing with strange matters to dis- 
tinguish the essential from the inessential. It is desirable, 
therefore, for the teacher at first to have some definite plan 
in his mind as regards the description to be given, and 
tlif points should be taken one by one. Important points 
in the description of almost any object taken in nature 
study are: Kind of thing, where usually found, its 

nil shape, its general colour, its size, the separate parts, 
the use of the separate parts, the use of the whole object, 
the I'd at ion of the separate parts to the whole object and 
( >t' the object to its natural surroundings. Questions should 
be asked by the teacher about each of these matters, and 
tin- questions, as a rule, should be such that they can only 
U- answered by a reference to the actual object. AY hen a 
good answer has been obtained the pupils should write 
down in their note-books what has just been found out. 

; ier not-s nor drawings should ever be copied from the 
Mackl.oard. and notes should never be written down at the 

r's dictation. 
The srh'"l museum is an adjunct in many schools w here 

nature studv is included in the curriculum. 
Museums and 
Collections ( H her schools, which possess no museum of 

Public their own, occasionally i.av visits to public 

Museums. J r J ... 

museums. 1 he average public museum is 

one of the \\-urst places possible in which children can 
ipt to do serious \\oi-k in nature study. The exhibits 
are arranged according to a system of classification, which, 
though it i> ;i I MM ni to mature scientist-, is foreign to the 
mind of the child and to the minds of adults unversed in 
thead\aiiced natural -ci.-uc,^. Tin- ^ minis. being m-iv 


or less valuable, are kept out of the reach of the inquisitive 
and the destructive in dust-proof eases with glass fronts. 
They in ay be seen, but not handled. 

Such institutions serve many useful purposes, but their 
value as instruments in the education of children has been 
greatly exaggerated. Here and there a museum curator is 
fired with the laudable ambition of rendering signal service 
to school children in their study of nature. Then 11 if 
systematically arrange I specimens of fossils, shells, insects, 
and birds are supplemented by cases exhibiting the life- 
histories of common animals and plants, of trees in their 
various stages of seasonal development, and of plants 
which grow together in woods, or moors, or marshes. All 
this is an advance on the more stereotyped mode of exhibit- 
ing specimens, but as a method of nature teaching it is 
wanting in several particulars. 

The essence of nature study is that it is work done by 
the pupils, and not work done for them by 

?P h o1 other people, however well intentioned the 


efforts of these people may be; and any ex- 
hibit in a public museum which may be of service in nature 
teaching is also such that it may be made in the school and 
by the school children. In the latter event it need not le 
enclosed in a glass case. The school museum is an insti- 
tution which may be of great service if it is founded 
and worked on the right lines. It must not, however, be 
regarded as a repository of curious or even interesting 

Most school museums are started by getting together a 

number of fossils and shells, butterflies, 
Character of birds' eggs, and stuffed animals. Many 
Museums t> OY8 > an( ^ some girls, have the nucleus of 

some such collection, and may often !>< 
persuaded to place it in the school museum. Elder 


brothers and sisters, parents and friends, may possess 
similar collections which have ceased to arouse interest, 
ami these, with little difficulty, may also often be obtained 
t >r display in the school museum. After the lapse of some 
little time, however, it is invariably found that such a 
mi i sen m has not answered the expectations of its founders : 
it soon ceases to interest either teachers or pupils ; the 
specimens get. dirty and broken ; and the whole thing is 
admit tod to be a failure. The mistake has been made that 
the wrong things have been put in the museum, and that 
they have been obtained by the wrong methods. 

The right method is to exercise the pupils' love of doing, 
and to be concerned only with those objects which have 
some relation to the pupils' lives their lives in home and 
school and their lives out of doors. When the pupils are 
studying trees let them retain some of the specimens. Let 
different pupils confine their attentions in this department 
to one particular tree. Let one retain specimens of oak, 
another of ash, another of beech, and so on for the common 
and accessible trees near the school. Let the specimens 
illustrate j.articular points, such as twigs in winter, twigs 
in late spring, unfolding buds, flowers, leaves, fruits, seeds, 
and seedlings. Let simple dissections be made of certain 
specimens, for example, of unfolding buds, and let the 
various parts be gummed on cardboard in proper order. 
Let some complete sets be mounted on large sheets of 
cardboard, and let these be hung on the school walls. I 
other complete sets remain unmounted and, put in bdxefl 
without lock and key, be accessible at all times. Then 
will tin- school luHseum !K started, and lx> in a fair way for 
success. Other ol.jrcts may he treated in a similar wa\ 
ill, however, IN* found that it is imj.ract icaMe 
M class to treat moiv than two or three sets of ol, 
in this nuimiT in a -iiiudc yrarV time. 


These mounted sheets and loose specimens are at any 
time available for class instruction, and are thus of greater 
value than specimens in public museums, which at best are 
only available for this purpose on rare occasions. Further, 
the objects, having been made by the pupils, will be a 
constant source of pride to themselves and of emulation 
to their comrades. Of course the specimens will get dusty 
and untidy in time; but also, by that time, those par- 
ticular specimens will have ceased to interest. They must 
be replaced by similar specimens made in a similar way. 
The school museum then is in one sense a temporary affair. 
The individual specimens do not remain long in existence : 
they do not require expensive cases ; and they need 
replacing from time to time. In another sense it is a 
permanent affair; for it is a constant source of employ- 
ment, interest, and instruction to those whom it is intended 
to benefit. 

Above all, it must be remembered that nature study is, 

in so far as it deals with animals and plants, 

Living Objects a gtudy of living things ; and that, therefore, 

Importance. living objects are of much greater importance 

than museum specimens. The latter must 

never be substituted for the former. The school museum 

is not an end in itself : it is merely an adjunct in nature 

teaching. Of far higher value than the school museum are 

the school aquarium, 1 lie school terrarium, the Wardian case, 

the plants in pots, and the germinating seeds in sawdust. 

A great deal of nonsense has been spoken and written 

about collections of natural history obiects 

none the less nonsense because it has been 

spoken and written by excellent naturalists. In fact, 
many collections are unjustifiable. Such collections are 
those which merely feed the desire of possession, and 
which involve wanton destruction. These are nothing but 


collections, u ml should be discouraged. Collections of 
birds' eggs, of dead inserts, and of dried plants are not 
inspiring. Neither have they any educational value in 
Iiool. But the collecting spirit is strong in boys; 
;uil in any given school it is almost a certainty that 
some boys are, of their own accord, getting together a 
collect ion of some sort. It is the duty of teachers of 
natural history to see that these collections are of the 
right sort, that they are made in the right way, and that 
they are utilised for the right purpose. The fundamental 
traits of the boy's character that impel him to make a 
colKvtioii iif some sort are his innate love of activity, and 
his excusable desire to see the product of his activity. Is 
it not more reasonable to utilise these qualities, than simply 
to i-oucern oneself in emphasising the futility of mere 

We have already advocated the collecting of specimens 
I trees illustrating seasonal development, and this is by 
no means the only collection of educational value in 
nature study which pupils may be encouraged to make. 
Other examples of collections are: specimens illust rating 
iispersal of fruits and seeds by the wind; twigs of 
plants with thorns and prickles; kinds of leaves; cornfield 

\\ Is in nyrioui stages of growth; injurious insects in 

us stages of their life-history, with specimens of the 
crops on which they feed. All collections should be 
accompanied by written verbal explanations, and by 
illustrative sketches. The aim should be to have not a 
large collection but one which the collector understands. 
Such collections not merely do no harm, but they possess 
an educational value in themselves. They also turn to 
good account eertaii inherent traits in the characters !' 
children which no amount of eit her teaching or preaching 
will e\er eradicate. 


The specimens collected, in many cases, should go 
towards stocking the school museum. Children like this 
kind of work, and it is eminently suitable to be undertaken 
out of school hours, and especially during vacations. It 
will be seen that any objects which are suitable for the 
school museum are also suitable for collections, and that 
the right form of collecting furnishes an excellent method, 
not only of stocking the school museum, but also of 
properly directing the energies of pupils with collecting 
instincts and of providing useful vacation work. It is 
scarcely necessary to say that collecting must not in any 
way take the place of a study of live objects in their 
natural surroundings, but must be so used that it is a 
help to such study. 

6. It will be seen from the foregoing that nature 
study is naturally related to several subjects 

Correlation which are taught in primary schools. Many 

with other _* * 

Subjects. aspects of geography are, in fact, integral 

portions of the subject. In this chapter the 

term has l)een limited to the study of living things ; but 

nature is not all living, and the study of natural phenomena 

of rain, snow, ice, clouds, etc., of rivers 

and their work, of the sea, of hills and 

mountains, and of valleys and plains is nature study 

equally with the study of plants and animals. 

Many natural regions in foreign lands have strong 
resemblances to certain limited areas in this country. 
Any natural British wood, for example, typifies the tem- 
perate forests of the northern hemisphere. A tract of 
sandhills on the British coast has many points in common, 
with regard to climate, soil, and vegetation, with the great 
sandy deserts found in many continental areas. A British 
estuarine mud flat has marked resemblances in physical 
and soil conditions with the mangrove swamps of tropical 


shores, though the vegetation of the two areas is in sharp 
contrast owing to climatic differences. A Pennine moor 
has niaiiv points of agreement with the enormous stretches 
of Arctic tundra. A teacher of natural history should be 
also a student of geography in its widest sense, and should 
be piv parr. 1 to teach both subjects. 

Kvery lesson in nature study should also be, to some 

extent, a training in the correlated work of 
Handicraft, } 1;lll( { an j eve Many of the mode-Is of 
Modelling. natural objects may be. and should be, made 

during the time allotted in the time-table to 
manual instruction. This applies especially to cardboard 
work, clay modelling, and woodwork. Every scheme of 
work in drawing and modelling should include exam]) Irs 
from natural objects ; and, of course, every lesson in nature 
study should include some work in drawing and at times 
modelling the object studied. There should be a common 
understanding between the teacher of natural history on 
the one hand and the teachers of manual work and of 
drawing and modelling on the other ; and thus much time 
may be economised in the working of the school. 

The cultivation of verbal expression, both written and 

oral, is one of the chief ends of nature st udy . 

Tin- powers of verbal description and com- 
parison an- very deficient not only in most school children, 
I. ut in many adults, and the training of the>c pi.wrr> 

ir too little attention in most schools and col!, 
It cannot be expected that young children will lie alle to 
write good essays on abstract subjects; but every nature 
lesson should exercise the pupils' power of verbal descrip- 
tion: the majority should -ive practice to their power of 
comparison: nio>t,if not all, should train their power of 
writ in- down in words what t hey have discovered by ol 
11. Even quite young children should d 


in these respects. The teacher must not expect rounded 
sentences and precise phraseology, but simple ideas may 
be simply expressed by the children even in the lower 

The connection between the study of nature and litera- 
ture is very direct, for the best literature is full of the 
poetry of nature. Great writers interpret nature to us, so 
that we find in it depths which, without their aid, we 
should never have suspected. Just as a picture of Turner 
lias manifested to thousands beauties and meanings in 
familiar scenes to which they hud hitherto been oblivious, 
so it is with a sonnet of Wordsworth or an ode of Shelley. 
The eye of the poet sees more than does the common eye, 
aii'l his dulcet tones bring home to the prosaic (<MIIIIK.II 
mind that every piece and aspect of nature has its own 
beauty. Most men need such an interpreter before they 
can gain from nature all they are capable of receiving. 

These thoughts suggest to us the kind of reading book 
that should be used in connection with nature study. The 
too common form of 'nature reader' which attempts to 
teach at second hand facts which are only fruitful when 
gathered at first hand should be rigidly excluded from the 
school. Just as the function of the history or the geo- 
graphy reader is not to teach facts, but to bring the pupils' 
minds into sympathetic relations with peoples of other 
times and other lands, so the function of a nature reader 
is to bring them into living relations with nature. It does 
not aim at imparting facts about nature, but at awakening 
a love for nature, and in cultivating an attitude of mind 
responsive to nature's voice. And the best and most 
effective way of doing this is to let the pupils read some of 
the finest pieces of literature which have nature and the 
beauties of nature for their theme. A nature reader may, 
then, consist of a selection of passages of real literature 


l>t)th in prose and verse which breathe throughout the true 
spirit of the lover of nature. I 

Ani IHT kind of reader which deals with natural history 
may he found interesting and of some value that which 
aims at extending tin 1 pupils' knowledge by describing 
tilings which fall outside the range of observation of the 
a \eraire school child. Such a book makes no attempt to 
supplant observational work or to describe expcriineiils 
which may be performed by the pupils. But it utilises 
their direct experiences by calling on them to picture 
remote scenes. And as the pupils' knowledge and love 
of nature increase they will desire to hear of the forms 
nature takes in places beyond the range of their own obser- 
vations, ami will welcome a book which helps them so to 
widen their knouledge. Such a reader may com {.a re and 
contrast the products of distant lands with those of 
our own country, and enter into some detail with regard 
to the aspects of distant lands which send to our 
shores various exotic products. It may compare a rice 
plantation with a British wheat-field, and the African 
veldt with the Yorkshire fells. The reading of such a 
work is not directly nature study, but it is a logical 

outcome of it. 

The connection of nature study with mathematics is not 

obvious at first siu r ht ; and herein I 

weakne.-ss of nature study. The latter sub- 
ject is apt, in piM.-tire. to became ]o,,se in its observations 
Vlgue in its conclusions. This, indeed, is not altogether 
an inherent weakness, but it is one which every nature 
<eds LTuar-l against. To some extent this defect 

ill the Mlbjeet 111. IV IN- ivinedied by measurements, taken at 
1 An ii' Inxik of this kind is ./ X>I/H,-> f,'i>f' r, edited 1,\ 

1 "Klilllll .111.1 Mr. K. SjH-i^'llt. .111(1 Jilll.lisli, r| |,y ||.H|I|,-| 

i. .11. 


regular periods, of growing organs by accurately counting 
certain detailed structures of organs, such as the serrations 
of leaves, and calculating averages, and by many similar 
observations. Such work is, indeed, becoming an important 
part of advanced biological work, and has already led to 
several useful generalisations ; and there is every reason 
why such work should be included in elementary courses of 
nature study. In any event, however, this weakness of 
nature study ought to be frankly admitted even by its 
most devoted adherents ; and we are strongly of opinion 
that every course of nature study should be supplemented 
by a course of work in careful physical and mathematical 

7. In choosing lessons in nature study, preference should,, 

be given to those subjects which lend tlicm- 
Study 6 selves to the solving of easy problems l>v 

careful observations and simple experiments. 
The apparatus used in the experiments may usually be 
IK >ine-made or school-made. Expensive apparatus for 
nature lessons in schools is hardly ever desirable. The 
lessons should be vitally and intimately connected with 
each other, and the teacher should not attempt, at the 
beginning of a course of instruction, to give separate titles 
to each lesson. 

A highly suitable series of lessons for the earlier years 

may be found in seeds and the conditions 
EarUe/Yeara. necessarv to their germination and tln-ir 

growth to mature plants. 
The first lesson on the broad bean to pupils of the lower 

years requires the following specimens : 

The First Bean pods, some fresh (if obtainable at the 

Lesson on . 

Seeds. time the lesson is given) and some dry, with 

attached seeds inside ; and some dry beans. 
Each pupil should have at least one specimen of each. 


The nature, colour, size, general shape, and markings of 
the dry bean should first be orally described by the pupils, 
and then the specimen should be drawn. The significance 
of the black scar may be understood by a reference to the 
U'uiis attached to seedstalks in the pods. Then an account 
of the things seen and learnt should be written by the 
pupils. This is as much as should be attempted in one 

The second lesson requires dry beans and also beans 
which have been allowed to soak in water 
overnight. It should begin with a brief re- 
statement by the pupils of the things seen 
and learnt in the first lesson. This should be followed by 
a description of the soaked beau. Then the dry beans 
should be compared with the soaked beans, and the 
differences described by the pupils. At once problems 
are suggested which only future work can solve. Why is 
not the soaked bean wrinkled? Why is it not hard and 
brittle? Is the soaked bean heavier than the dry bean ? 
Is there an opening in the seed, and how may such opening 
be demonstrated? Would water enter the bean if the 
opening were stopped by sealing wax or by rubber 
solution? Does water enter the seed through the scar: 
Would water enter the seed if the scar were covered with 
ruhler solution? Does water enter the bean through the 
seed-skin \ 

Such questions should suggest experiments for future 
lessons. They cannot be answered at th<> time they arc 
raised, but all may and should be answered by work 
actually done in class. The answers should not be 
supplied by the teacher. Continuing the lesson, the skin 
of the dry bean should be remove.! by means of ;i pen- 
knife, ami the -'Tin <>r young plant insi.le should be, 
examined Th* n the skin or coat of the soaked bean 


should be removed. This is a much easier matter than 
the removal of the skin of the dry bean. The two large 
lobes, the young root which pokes outwards and down- 
wards, and which fits into a pocket of the seed-coat, and 
the young shoot which is carefully packed away between 
the two lobes should be noted. The full significance of 
these parts will not be understood by the pupils until they 
have watched the growth of the leaves for some weeks. 
The germ inside the seed-coat should l>e drawn in such a 
position that the different parts and their relation to each 
other may be seen. Then a written account of the parts 
should be given by the pupils. 

In the third lesson the seed of the bean should be com- 
pannl with other carefully chosen seeds, such 

as ^ lose * tue P 63 -' tne sycamore, and the 
mustard. These should be drawn to show 
the parts which correspond to the parts of the bean. The 
generalisation should eventually be made that a sml 
consists of a seed-coat enclosing a germ or young plant 
with lobes ('seed-leaves'), young root, and young shoot. 
In all cases it will be found that soaked seeds are more 
easily examined than dry ones. 

The various seeds examined should have been planted, 
some in damp sawdust for the examination of the earlv 
growing stages, and some in soil in p. .is and in the l>eds 
of the school garden for the examination of the maturer 
plants later in the season. The teacher should calculate 
at the commencement the approximate numlxT of seeds 
his class will require. The seeds should be planted by 
the pupils at the 1 ^inning of the series of lessons, and 
the teacher will be well advised in taking the precaution 
to plant some a week or a fortnight earlier, as a spell of 
cold weather may delay the germination of the specimens 
planted by the pupils. 


The fourth lesson requires beans which have BO far 
germinated that they show an elongated 
Lesion young r ^ all( l the young shoot f on- ing 

its way out from between the seed leaves 
or l..bes. The parts in their present condition should be 
observed, described and drawn, and compared witli the 
same parts as they existed in the seeds before gvrmi na- 
tion. Further problems will here arise for solution. AY hat 
tilings arc needed to make the seed sprout? Is soil 
necessary! Is light? Is water? Is warmth ? Is air: 
Tin- fifth and two or three succeeding lessons should 
consist of simple experiments designed to 
answer some of the questions raised. It 
will doubtless have been suggested that soil 
is necessary for the germination of seeds. The pupils 
should fix a soaked bean by a needle to the cork of a large 
bottle about a third full of \\ater. It will be found that 
the Itejin will germinate in the damp atmosphere of the 
ln>ttle. It should also be shown that a bean will germinate 
in darkness. The necessity of warmth may be shown by 
futile attempts to grow beans in soil or damp sawdust in 
which ice is kept and replaced as it melts. 

Moisture may U shown to be essential by the pupils 
vinu r that seeds never germinate if k<-pt in dry pi 

more difficult to prove lhat air i- i for 

.inalion, but iy be shown not to germinate 

| it in bottles <|iiite full of water >r of coal u p as. even 
if moi>t ure and soil are also supplied. Practical direc- 
tion : riments may be found in text-book**. 
especially in Osterhaut's / 9HU n'itli /7,////x. The 
Seeds, which all the while are germinating, should be 
lined in their v;iri..iis .st:e_'es until the mature plants 
\\n in the pots ami in the garden*. Then the 

8 root, the vteill. the leave*, the ||,.v 


and finally the pods and seeds, should be examined in turn. 
All through, observational work should be correlated with 
experimental work ; and the experimental work should be 
such that it answers the questions put by the pupils or 
suggested by the teacher. Such a course of lessons as is 
here outlined should furnish work which may begin about 
Easter, and which may terminate about the commencement 
of the midsummer holidays. 

It is not desirable that, during the time that seeds and 
their germination are being studied, no other 

Othe^SulJects. Sub 3 ects sna11 ^ taken U P by the class. 
The important point to notice is that such 
a course of lessons must of necessity occupy a few months ; 
and, whilst the plants are growing and the experiments 
proceeding, many opportunities are sure to arise for 
dealing with other seasonable subjects in a rather less 
detailed manner. 

Besides detailed work on seeds, the pupils in the earlier 

years may also examine a few simple flowers, 
Other Courses. , , , ., ,. 

and study the methods of dispersal of fruits 

and seeds, the development of the frog and of a common 
butterfly, and the simple facts of the respiration of 
animals. The particular order of the various courses is 
not so important as it is that the individual lessons in 
each course should grow out of each other, and thus be 
vitally and organically connected. In every year some 
out-door work is necessary, and the excursions taken 
should be in connection with the lessons. 

For pupils of the intermediate years some lessons on the 
subjects studied in the earlier years should be 

taken, other specimens being used. Instead 
Years. of beans, peas, sycamore, and mustard, other 

seeds, such as laburnum, gorse, wheat, and 
onion, should be studied. The treatment should also be 


of a rather more advanced nature. The reserve food in 
seeds should be noted, and a few simple tests, such as the 
iodine test for staivh and the lime-water test for carbon 
dioxide, should be explained and applied. 

Some underground organ of a biennial or of a perennial 
plant should be studied on the same lines as 

seeds ' The tuber of the P tato wil1 answer 
admirably. The potato in its resting state 

should first be examined. The eyes containing the buds 
of the tuber should be observed, and it should be noted 
that the eyes are aggregated at one end. At the other 
end the remains or scar of the stalk which attached the 
tuber to the parent plant may be seen ; but it is probable 
that this cannot be well demonstrated until a growing 
plant with young tubers attached to it is observed. The 
two ends may, however, always be distinguished by the 
n umber of eyes being greater at one end than the other. 
The two ends should, for the sake of convenience of 
reference, and in order to emphasise their different natures, 
be named the one the ' eye end,' or ' bud end,' or ' growing 
<-nd ' ; and the other the ' stalk end ' or ' barren end.' 

These names should not be given until the children have 
jr.i-ped tin- fact that the two ends are really different, and 
this fart will not IK- fully realised until the specimens have 
IM-.-M allowed to sprout for a few weeks. The position 
of tin' eyes should U> can-fully noted. This can only be 
d .n- satisfactorily by fixing a pin in each eye and joining 
tin- pins by a piece of thread. If the thread is first fixed 
on the pin nearest the stalk end, and then fixed in order <m 
each pin next in distanrc above, it will U> found that the 

eyes are arranged in a spiral, that ihe sixth eye is exactly 
over the lii>t. and that the thread in going from the first 
to the sixth eye goes round the tuber i \s ice. Tlii 
rangement should U> compared \\ith the arrangement 


of buds on twigs of the oak and of leaves on stems of the 

Potatoes should be planted, as were the seeds, some in 
the school garden or in soil in pots, some in 

Experiments sawdust or cocoa-nut fibre kept permanently 

with the 

Potato. damp, some in damp air, some in water, 

and some in soil. Some should be planted 
\vilh the bud end upwards and some with the bud end 
downwards. Some should be cut in two, thus separating 
the bud end from the stalk end, and each half should be 
planted. Some should be cut up into a number of pieces, 
some pieces with an eye, and some pieces without. 

The condition of the planted specimens should be 
observed from time to time. After a week or two, when 
the buds have begun to sprout, there will l>e no difficulty 
whatever in distinguishing the bud end or growing ml 
from the stalk end or barren end. Problems will arise as 
in the case of the growing bean. Will the buds of the 
potato sprout if kept in the dark? Do all the growing 
specimens gain in weight? Which do not? Why do 
the tubers with growing buds turn soft? In the case 
of the specimens which gain in weight, where does the 
extra material come from ? In the case of the specimens 
grown in the dark , at what stage do they die ? Do the gn >w- 
inu' shoots of the latter specimens turn green ? The lessons 
on the potato may be begun in May, but they cannot be 
concluded until the specimens planted in the garden and 
flower-pots have fully matured in the following autumn, 

The roots, leaves, stems, flowers, and seeds of the potato 

will, of course, be studied as well as the 
Other Work. 

tubers. Other courses may be taken by 

pupils of the intermediate years on bulbs, on the identifica- 
tion of common trees and shrubs, on the work of flowers, 
on the dispersal of fruits and seeds in greater detail than 


wa> taken in the lower years, ou the development of three 
or tour common insects, ou birds, and on the blood circula- 
tion of the higher animals. The work of the pupils of the 
intermediate years should show a distinct advance on that 
nf tin- pupils of the lower years. This advance must be 
in tin- nature of the observations, in the pupils' power 
\pivssioii by oral ami written descriptions and by 
drawing and modelling, and in the ability to draw general 
conclusions ami inferences. 

In the later years lessons should be given on the con- 

>t in lent gases of the air, on water, and on the 
LaterYeara. ** kinds of soil. Then the pupils 

will be able to understand such subjects 
as the importance of oxygen and of carbon dioxide to 
plants and animals. Simple lessons on sound, heat, 
light, magnet ism and electricity, and on force and 
me.-hanical devices are also desirable. Other course 
flu mid include further observations and experiments on 
seeds, bulbs, tubers, and other underground organs of 
plants. different examples being, as a rule, chosen in the 
variou> years. The double function, reproductive and food 
storage, of these underground organs should be discovered 
by the pupils. Tests for starch and sugar should be ex- 
plained and applied; and the importance of these sul (stances 
to the iv>t iii'_r and growing parts of plants respectively 
.-dioiild IK- ascertained by the pupils. Lessons should be 
on the w>rk <f leaves, but. as this is fully explained in 
t e x t - books, it need not be referred to in any detail here. 
The life history of some common wild plant should be 

Mudied. The little celandine, which is 

Life History abundant in damp woods and hedgerows. 

of the Little . 

Celandine. W1 " serve this purpose excellently. The 

heart ->h >sy leaves of the plant are 

easily distinguished in \<TV .-arly spring, and its golden 


starlike flowers make the woods and hedge banks gay at a 
time when most other plants are hardly awake from their 
winter sleep. 

The flowers have three or four green coverings on the 
outside, which keep the flower- bud warm and dry. 
Within these are eight or nine bright golden petals, 
\\liosc bright, colours attract bees, wasps, and flies on 
warm spring days. At the base of each petal is a little 
honey-bag. There is sufficient honey in each in warm 
sunshiny weather to give the sensation of sweetness to 
the tongue. The insects which visit the flower suck up 
this nectar. They should be watched while at work. 
They alight on the flower, settle themselves in the 
mi< Idle with their heads dipping downwards to the 
honey glands, and gradually turn round as they visit 
each petal. The insects stand on the stamens, of which 
there is a large number. Each stamen consists of a 
yellow stalk and a yellow knob. These knobs contain 
yellow dust called pollen, which sticks to the legs and 
undersides of the body of the insects as they gather the 
honey from the petals. The younger stamens in the middle 
of a flower are not yet ripe that is, they have not yet 
burst and shed their pollen. In older flowers, where the 
central stamens are ripe, the green seed-boxes or ovaries 
may be seen. At the top of each is a little sticky place, 
with probably some pollen sticking to most of them. 
How did the pollen get there ? Have the insects brought 
it ? Would pollen get there if the young flowers were so 
covered with thin muslin that the insects could not visit 
them ? Why could it not ? Do such flowers ever ripen 
seed ? Does the bee perform any service to the flower in 
return for the honey it gets ? 

The flowers should be noted on fine, warm days, and 
on wet or sunless days. The pupils should not experience 


much diflieultv in finding what advantage it is to the plant 
that its flowers are open on sunny days, and closed on 
siinl. when rain threatens or falls. What other 

spring flowers open and close in the same way? What 
spring flowers do not ? If the teacher directs the attention 
of his pupils to such spring flowers as the little celandine, 
tin- crocus, the tulip, the snowdrop, the violet, and the 
datYodil. the pupils should form the hypothesis that upright 
sjiriiiir flowers have the power of opening and closing, and 
that spring flowers which have not this power droop or bend 
over an<l thus protect their inner floral parts from rain. 

The way in which the flower stalks of the little celandine 
curl over as its fruits and seeds are ripening, the thick skin 
of the leaves of the plant when contrasted with the thin 
skin of the leaves of blue-bells and some other plants 
which grow in more shady places, and the fibrous roots, 
all furnish exercises in observation and deduction for the 

The manner of reproduction of the plant is an important 
point. The starchy tubers, each with a winter bud, must 
be examined and experimented upon. Seeds must be 
gathered when ripe in June, planted in damp soil, and the 
results of germination carefully noted. In certain districts 
it is said that the seeds of the plant do not germinate, 
is a point worth testing in all school districts. The 
seeds germinate in Cheshire and Somerset, whatever thev 
may do elsewhere ; and, in any case, the plant reproduces 
its. -If very freely by its tubers and winter buds ; so 1 hat . it 
the spring be cold and wet and seeds then fail to ripen, t he 
loss to the plant of reproductive power is not a serious one. 
ili movements of tlio dandelion provide excel- 
Orowth Move- ^ en ^ mat. n;tl f..r i -sting the powers of 
menu of the observation and inference of the senior 
Dandelion. class. 


The relative position of the stamens, style, and .stigma 
of florets in various stages of growth should be noted ami 
caret' ully drawn. Attention should then l>e confined to 
one particular floret, and the pupils should find out that 
each floret passes through the various stages previously 
observed. The time taken to pass through eai-h stage. 
should be written down. Pupils of our own noticed 
the stage where the style and stigma were wholly within 
the anther-tube. Two days later, the style was peeping 
through the tube, and pollen- grains were adhering to the 
outside of the style. In two days more the stigmas were 
outspread, and more pollen grains were on the outer and 
under sides of the style and srigma. Two days later still, 
the arms of the stigma were bent completely round, and 
thus pollen grains were sticking to the upper sides of tin- 
tip of the stigma. From such observations, and from 
ob serving insects at work on the flowers, the pupils are 
placed in a position to decide for themselves whether the 
dandelion is insect-pollinated or self-pollinated or both. 

The movements of the scape or naked stalk of the 
dandelion should be similarly studied. The erect position 
wl UMI the plant is in full flower, the prostrate position when 
the flowers have faded and the fruits are still unripe, and 
the erect scape when the fruits are fully ripe should be 
observed and drawn, ami the time that elapses between 
each stage should be carefully noted, and the benefit which 
the plant obtains from these devices should be elicited from 
the pupils. 

The movements of the ripe fruits themselves should also 

be closely watched. The fruit-head consists 

Fruits^ 6 ^ a num ^ >er of individual fruits arranged 

like parachutes. The lengthening of the 

stalks of these silky parachute-like fruits should be studied 

in the way indicated above, and also the opening and 


shutting of the silky hairs of the parachute during fine 
ami wt-t weather. 

The functions of roots, stems, buds, leaves, and flowers 

of plants should all have been studied to 
Other Work. ., , 

some extent by pupils who have worked at 

natural histry from the earliest to the latest school -year. 

The habits and mode of life of common examples of 
the chief classes of animals, such as a mammal, a bird, a 
a lish. an insect, a snail, an earthworm, should also 
have been studied, as well as the chief functions of the" 
higher animals, such as respiration, circulation, and diges- 
tion. In connection with the latter work, lessons should 
,i\vn on the elementary principles of hygiene. A 
word of caution is here necessary. The work thus out- 
lined for the pupils of the later years is based on the 
assumption that they have performed the work outlined 
for the intermediate and earlier years, and have therefore 
advumvd considerably in the powers of observation and of 
drawing inferences and arriving at general conclusions. 
Such topics should not be taken with even the older pupils 
in a school which is just beginning nature study, and in 
which consequently no previous work in the subject has 
been done. 

Howing books are rec<>minrn<l-<l to the teacher : 

Furnr.uix : ( Vi tiii- at- Biology (especially 

2/- (Clivo). 

Kuin.-.iux -. K v 2/- (Clive). 

- (Ma< millaii). 

|ge: Nairn.- ani Lilr 7/- ((Jiliii). 

' : H"U Hunts Li\<- and 

,k -J/i (Crillin an.l 06.), 

i-M ... .-da). 


.im<I the Year S/'i Ian). 

PB. TO. 


Osterhaut : Experiments with Plants ... 5/- (Macniillan). 
Scott : Nature Study and the Child ... 6/- (Isbister). 
Agricultural Education Committee : 

Leaflets on Nature Knowledge ... (London). 

Cornell University, Ithaca, U.S.A. : 

Leaflets on Nature Study issued to 

teachers and young pupils. 


1. MATHEMATICS, at least that branch of it kiiowii as 
arithmetic, has perhaps been taught the most 

Mathematics thoroughly of all subjects ill primary schools. 

in Relation to ml i B v 

Ljf e There has always been a strong reeling that 

a grounding in arithmetic is a sound prepara- 
tion for effective and useful living. Of this there can be 
little doubt. Hardly any branch of human activity exists 
in which the measurement of form, position, or quantity is 
not requirc-d. and the more such activity advances in com- 
plexity and demands organised scientific consideration the 
m TO is exact mathematical measurement essential to suc- 
cessful effort. For all matter has position, shape, and 

and the movement of matter under the influence of 
mined in direction, space, and time. From 
this it l'llo\\t that the successful and economical adapta- 
tion of the material environment to our wants and d 
necessitates a nnnv r less exact determination of the p<i- 
lion, shape, and si/.e of material bodies, and a calculation 
"I the character and amount of forco required to bring 
i hem from one condition 1 another. 

The art ..f mathematics, then, is the art of economical 
living, of living without \\astr, of drtrriiiiiiing exactly in 

km, f'-nn, and |Mantity what you n-i|uir' and |.iv, 
fitting your means to acconq,li>h \,,ur aims in the most 

1 By W. P. Welptoii, B.fco. 



effective manner, whether it be in getting the utmost out of 
a weekly wage, or in building a bridge to span a mighty 
river. Social life, indeed, would break down, or rather it 
would never have risen to its present complex organisa- 
tion, if mathematics did not make equivalent exchanges of 
goods possible by providing means for calculating values. 
The position of mathematics in life activity being deter- 
mined, it simply remains to decide the kind 
Mathematics au( j amount of mathematics required by the 
in the Primary ., . , TTT-I 

School. pupils of the primary school. What is 

taught must fit them for their future lives. 
At least enough must be taught to make them effective and 
economical managers of households, whilst still more must 
be included to render possible an intelligent and critical 
interest in municipal and national finance. To satisfy 
such needs would not make any great demands on the 
time-table. Little would be required beyond the four 
rules, the tables of money, weights, and measures in com- 
mon use, the manipulation of simple fractions and deci- 
mals, with proportion and percentages, and their application 
to problems of domestic, municipal, or national interest. 

The work of the primary school, however, is more than 
this. It should not only provide for the exigencies of 
domestic and social life, but should secure a sufficiently 
broad basis for future utilitarian life. Certainly it is no part 
of the work of the primary school to give any specialised 
training for any particular trade or business, still it is 
quite within its scope to lay a broad foundation on which 
any such future specialised training may be built. Most 
crafts, trades, and professions require skill in some form 
of measurement, and ability in calculation an accuracy in 
skill and an ability in calculation beyond those required for 
ordinary domestic and social life. A preparation for such 
skill and ability must ba provided by the primary school, 


;inl tliis must be of a sufficiently broad, advanced, ami 
practical character to make it possible for the pupils ou 
leaving school to take advantage of any training for a 
special trade <>r business they may afterwards receive, 
fit her in trade or technical school, or in the workshop 


iM'thing more, then, is required than the theory 
f arithmetic and geometry. Practical work is essential 
both in giving souif skill in measuring such things as 
. \\ eiu r ht s and densities, and in rendering the theory of 
arithmetic and geometry intelligible. But, above all, it is 
only by practical work in measuring bodies of different 
kinds and with respect to different attributes that the 
j.upil ran IK- brought into effective relation to his material 
world. He must realise that successful work depends 
on exact measurement, and for this to be a guiding 
principle of his future conduct it must become part of his 
mental and moral fibre by constant and thorough practice 
throughout growing youth. 

However much the demands of the child's future life 
appeal to the teacher, they appeal but little 

Mathematics to the boy as he passes from infancy to 
in Child Life. * . . 

youth, although as he grows older Ins 

imagination begins to dwell more and more on future pos- 
sibilities. Il is, however, the wants and needs and d 
of his proeiit life that absorb him. He can onlv give a 
willing iiiN-ivst to v\hat he feels to be of value now and to 
have some practical niotivt in short, to what will give him 
some better command over his present activiti< s . A n d 1 1 1 i s . 

ind 1. is the true aim of school instruction. However 

much futuiv , d circumstances, b< the 

aim i'-li aim is onlv to be attained b\ 

the pupil to live his prexeni lif,. as fully, as 

III To live flu 


a full complete life of child, of boy, and of youth to man- 
hood is the best and only fitting preparation for a true 
life as a man. 

Mathematical teaching, then, should appeal to the 
interests of boyhood, but in such a way as to develop them 
to something higher, more exact, and more perfect. The 
mode of teaching should by tactful criticism and sympa- 

I lu'tic encouragement inspire the pupil to realise his present 
practical interests more thoroughly and more rational lv. 
For example, one of the most powerful of boyish instincts 
is that of construction. He loves nothing more than to 
make tilings. To draw out such an instinct, to direct and 
guide it to a higher and more rational plane, is part of the 
uork of mathematical teaching. Let us suppose he wishes 
to make a box. To do this in a thorough and rational 
manner would demand an inquiry into the nature and 
construction of a riirht angle, into the exact determination 
of length, area, cubical contents and weight, besides requir- 
ing a knowledge of woods and manipulative skill in work- 
ing with them. Indeed, a whole system of geometric ami 
arithmetical knowledge ii necessary before such a desire can 
!>' adequately realised. It is in perfecting such activities 
av this that mathematical teaching makes its connection 
with the present life and interests of the pupils, and it is 
out of such practical problems as this that the theory 
of mathematics should spring. Theory exists simply to 
render practice more intelligent and rational, more orga- 
nised and exact. Hence its problems should arise out of 
the demands made by practical work, and should lead back 
to such work to make it more effective. 

Such, then, must be the harmonious relations between 

II H> aim of the teacher and the aim of the pupil, between 
the theory and the practice of mathematics. The rational 
and full future life of manhood is the evolution of the 


rational and full life of the boy, whilst theory springs 
and develops out of practice. Only by carrying out this 
principle with judgment, tact, and sympathy in his 
teaching can the teacher induce the pupil to bring real 
interest and intelligent appreciation to his work. Only so 
will the child come to understand mathematical concep- 
tions in their fulness. We know clearly and completely 
only what we can apply effectively, and this principle holds 
in the mi 1m of practical as well as in that of theoretical 
application. By actually working with a thing we dis- 
cover its limitations, what it really is, and how much we 
can and cannot do with it. Without such a connection 
with practice theory is merely something in the air, an 
intangible elusive myth. 

2. We must now consider one view of mathematical 
training that is very widely held. It is 

Mathematics a i mos t universally believed that mathe- 
as a Mental . . , ,, . , .. . 

Discipline. matics provides an excellent mental disci- 
pline, especially in reasoning; that it 
sharpens the intellect, making it more alert and active, 
and that it leads to habits of concentration and applica- 
tion. That those who work thoroughly through a course of 
mathematics do benefit by it mentally there can be little 
doubt, but there is much uncertainty as to the exact 
nature of that benefit. That it provides no direct general 
train ing in reasoning is very certain. Of that modern 
psychology has no doul>t. There is no faculty of reasoning 
which when nhari>ened and tempered by mathematics can 
be applied to reasoning in other matters. A good mathe- 
matician is not necessarily a good statesman or a sound 
psychologist, any more than a skilled painter is on that 
account an expert tea-taster, though both are good 
in th.-ir own particular sphere. Yet by ma- 
th. mat ics a power has been gained that is mm.-rsally 


applicable in all mental operations. The activity of atten- 
tion is fundamental to all intellectual life, and the power 
of concentration and application developed to a habit by 
mathematical work will lead a pupil to attack a n<-\\ 
subject and to progress with it more effectively than if no 
such habit had been acquired. 

Though mathematics has no direct and immediate 
effect in enabling a student to reason in 

The Training otner subjects, yet it has an indirect iiiflu- 

of a Critical 

Power. ence. It tends to render the mind more 

analytically critical in all its thought. More 
nearly than any other subject mathematics approaches 
the form of a perfect deductive science, in which every 
conclusion is inferred from evidence which can readily be 
brought to li^ht and examined. Its conclusions are based 
either on facts definitely given by the circumstances of the 
case, or already known and proved with respect to it, or 
else assumed as axioms or postulates. Such facts are 
continually 1 icing systematically organised in its formal 
definitions explicitly and exactly stated in words, and its 
assumptions are continually being analysed into the 
simplest and most fundamental intuitions, and on these 
the whole structure of its proofs rests. Intelligently and 
thoroughly to study a series of such highly rigorous proofs 
;ind exact statements of ideas is to realise what is meant by 
valid thought and exact language, and such a standard once 
formed in the mind is bound to react in some measure on 
the general mode of thinking in other matters. 

If, moreover, the teaching goes beyond this and leads the 
pupils not merely to reason about mathematical relations 
but to study the nature of the thought itself, to consider 
not only the statement of the definitions and axioms of 
mathematics but also their logical nature, not simply to 
reason out the proofs but to realise the valid nature <) 


those proofs, then a definitely conscious ideal of language 
and thought will have been formed which can be con- 
sciously applied to every matter of daily life. Continued 
exercises of such a character will develop the habit of 
examining critically conclusions arrived at and thus 
becoming conscious of their limitations and approximate 
accuracy. Such a critical power so developed should be 
a _rreat help in guarding a pupil against ambiguities in 
language and fallacies in argument. 

Some such logical training seems in this democratic age 

for all. Public opinion now-a-days has so much 

influence in guiding the fortunes of a nation that a 

standard >f valid and clear thought and a power to probe to 

the bottom of an argument and test its worth is a very 

necessary, but still very rare, equipment for every citizen. 

It might with some show of justice be said that science 

. or history could just as easily give this in- 

Mathematics telleotual training. Some such training it is 

to train quite certain they can give, but mathematics 

>ower - occupies a special place in this respect. 

Mathematics is above all other subjects of school studv an 

exact and precise s< -i-!i< <>. its reasonings form a standard 

towards which all other sciences look with envy. Hence the 

i v of mathematics will consciously and unconsciously 

setup an ideal of valid thought more perfect than that 

D by the study of less exact bodies of knowledge. On 

this ground alone mathematics would hold its own as a 

mental discipline, yet it has further claims for special 

confli deration. The study of the forms of thought in 

mathematics is specially appropriate for pupils in primary 

The relations involved are not complex and 

invoh.-d re in the case of the natural and social 

061, b'iii'_: simply those <,f measurement and form. 

liild from \\\< early years 18 constantly acting on 


his perceptions of size and shape, and soon learns to 
abstract those qualities and think of them by themselves. 
Having such simple and familiar relations to deal with he 
can advance with comparative- rapidity to those higher and 
more abstract workings of the intelligence peculiar to de- 
ductive reasoning, and without great difficulty can make 
the further abstraction of considering the form of thought 

In history and in natural science the case is very different. 
In these subjects the relations are complex, involved, and 
less familiar, and hence not easily isolated in thought; 
consequently the pupil's stay in the lower stages of 
intelligence is more protracted. He spends a longer 
time in accumulating facts and becoming familiar with 
them, while the work of analysing these facts is decidedly 
more difficult. Hence the pupil in a primary school never 
advances in these subjects to that stage of intelligence 
in which deductive reasoning predominates. For these 
reasons mathematics stands out pre-eminently as the sub- 
ject whose study in the primary school lends itself most 
readily to the formation of definite standards of thought, 
and io the training in habits of critical analysis. 

It is interesting to know that the importance of such 
intellectual training has not escaped the notice of some of 
our most prominent statesmen. In the course of a public 
address 1 Mr. John Morley, recognising perhaps how easily 
the public can be swayed this way or that by any passing 
wind, recommended that a judicial habit of mind be trained 
by a critical study of certain selected law cases of general 
interest. He thought it well that people in this age should 
have some clear notions as to the value of evidence and 
how far conclusions could be justified by the evidence in 
any particular case. There seems, however, no reason why 

1 Essay on Popular Culture in Critical Miscellanies, Vol. III. 


teachers should go beyond the subject-matter of the school 
curriculum to provide such a training. 

Mat hemat ics, as we have seen, offers a good field for such a 
critical examination, and much maybe said in favour of the 
critical study of the form of reasoning employed in natural 
science, since this is largely inductive, while mathematical 
reasoning is deductive. It would be a useful exercise to 
examine and weigh selected arguments from such a book 
M I>anvin's Vi/injc <>f ///>> 7>Vm//r, to lead the pupils to 
realise with what care observed facts have to be examined 
and compared before general conclusions can justly be 
inferred from them, and how tentatively such conclusions 
should be held. In such ways is promoted an attitude of 
mind which should be brought to bear on the forming of 
conclusions in all lessons in natural science. 

Pupils, especially when young, cannot be expected to be 
Interest of interested in mathematics merely as a mental 
Pupils in discipline, though when future life and its 

Intellectual purposes begin to loom immediately ahead 
t hey can to some extent appreciate this aspect 
of the study. The practical view of mathematics will 
always take precedence with the boy, and hence the menial 
discipline side of the teaching must be incidental and not 
le forced too much to the front. Pupils can, however, be 
interested to some de-ree in solving problems for tin- simple 
pleasure of con | uest, a pleasure analogous to the delight 
in such Barnes as chess and draughts. Pleasure is in the 
intellect^ >e itself and in the victories such exercise 

wins. Most of us have felt the -^lowof pride in evolving a 
neat ' proof. Such interest, however, is only sustained 1>\ 
feelings of confidence. jM.wer, and elation, which are there- 
ward- ten. The-. f victory in overcoming 
difficulties ami kimwin-.: onev.-lj' to l>e su|erior to them. 
T.. i! ncli foniK ..(' interest in m:it In-mat ical 


teaching the teacher must incite intellectual effort by work 
sufficiently difficult to call it forth. Difficulties must be 
faced by the pupils. Variety and originality in the prob- 
lems are essential. Each new problem should present 
some fresh element on which thought may operate. Quick, 
neat methods of working should be the ideal, clumsy round- 
about methods should be scorned. The mechanical solution 
of sums and problems worked according to certain known 
types soon becomes a monotonous, uninspiring drudgery. 
3. Mathematics in the primary school divides itself into 

two parts Arithmetic, the science and art 
The Connection , 
between * measurement, and Geometry, the theory 

Arithmetic and and construction of form. No hanj and 
fast line of demarcation separates the teach- 
ing of these two branches. To determine the position, 
shape and size of material objects necessitates the mea- 
suring of lengths, areas, and volumes. Besides this, the 
geometrical representation of shape in the form of plans, 
elevations and isometric drawings; of varying quantities 
such as temperature and barometric pressure by means of 
graphs ; of forces and velocities by lines, involves not only 
geometric but arithmetical considerations. 

A very close connection should, then, be maintained 
between the teaching of arithmetic and the teaching of 
geometry. This, of course, is most possible in the practical 
work. The practical problems of life must deal at one and 
the same moment with the position, shape, and size of 
things, though in theoretic contemplation we may abstract 
the form from the size and give each our separate con- 
sideration. It will be convenient however to divide the 
discussion on the teaching of mathematics into (a) the 
Teaching of Arithmetic, (fc) the Teaching of Geometry, 
although in considering practical applications diversions 
from one to the other will frequently be made. 


Iii laying i.lown courses of arithmetic and geometry it 
must constantly be borne in mind that no detailed scheme 
is applicable to every kind of school. The circumstances 
and needs of the scholars, the age at which their school 
life ends, whether they leave to go to work or to attend 
>o!n' higher school, are all factors that must decide the 
details of a course. The amount and kind of mathematics 
suitable for boys are not appropriate to girls. The power 
of abstract thinking seems to come later and in a weaker 
form in girls than in boys. To these considerations due 
.ht must U' given in drawing up courses of mathematical 
>tiidy for -iris, and the scheme we are about to lay down, 
which is primarily intended for boys, should be modified 
rdingly. Again, in schools in working-class neighbour- 
hoods more emphasis should be laid on practical measure- 
ments than on the theory of arithmetic and geometry, 
although the latter should not be altogether neglected. 
All that can here be done is to set forth the main outlines 
course which should be modified in the details to suit 
the special characteristics of each school. 

In all natural mental development practice precedes 

theory, and a working notion is the tjerm of 
Development . ' 

of Arithmetic an exact conception. An exact conception is 

from Empiric the final goal, and is the outcome of a careful 
ial- analysis of the working notion, thus making 
thought more accurate and deductive, and practice more 
rational. On account of the simple ami familial- character 
of arithmetical conceptions it is possible in the primarv 
school to progress to this linal goal of conceptual thinking 
and of a practic,- ba0ed on ,-m exact knowledge of 
universal rela' Uoi!-ld\ ipeaking, then, there will 

IM- two stages in the teaching of arithmetic, l.ul MMC.- 
exact conception do n,.t spnn- into being at any definite 
moment a gradual evolution M-,,HI the 


indefinite through various stages of clearness to the 
definite, there cannot be any exact point of lime which 
divides the two stages. The stage of working notions 
grasped empirically will by gradual analysis evolve into 
the stage of exact conceptions grasped by the reason. 
Yet, remembering this restriction, it is convenient to con- 
sider the two stages the Empirical and the Rational 
separately. The period of school life when the one has 
distinctly passed into the other in mathematics may be 
roughly placed somewhere about the age of ten or eleven. 
5. The aim of the first or empiric stage in the teaching < >!' 

arithmetic is to give the pupils a working 
Empiric Stage no ^ on ^ number, of its numeration and 

notation, and of the operations of addition, 
subtraction, multiplication, and division ; to secure that 
these notions spring from the practice of measuring 
quantities of various kinds and lead back to it; and to 
make sure that a basis for effective future work is laid in 
a thorough memorising of all the necessary tables, and 
in making quite automatic the different operations. 
Pupils in this stage cannot be expected thoroughly to 
understand everything they do. To spend time at the 
beginning in making every notion and operation perfectly 
clear to the understanding is to waste time. For, after 
all, understanding is relative to the stage of intelligence, 
and it is more important that by constant practice the 
power of rapid, accurate, and confident calculation be 
gained than that every sum should form the text for a 
sermon on notation and the theory of calculation. This, 
however, is not an argument for rule-of-thumb working. 
Nothing could be farther from our intention and nothing 
is more deadening than such a procedure. We simply 
wish to emphasise that all that can be expected at this 
stage is a working notion, and not a perfectly definite 


and clear conception. A working notion means a notion 
understood u|> to u certain point, and which, as the name 
is u>ed in working. It would seem, then, that 
intelligence is rather to be employed in the application of 
such ;i notion to practical affairs than in the understanding 
of its exact content and limitations. 

6. Number is a notion that springs out of measuring. 

_, . In measuring a quantity, whether it be a 

Measurement. .. ,. J . . . 

collection or things, or size, or weight, the 

mind starts with the whole thing to be evaluated and 
divides it into parts, and the quantity is measured by 
counting the number of the parts in the whole. 

The division into parts may be a physical one, as in 
counting a pile of pence, or only mental, as in measuring 
t he length of a wall. Naturally with young pupils physica 1 
division aids the mind in its work of thinking the whole as 
made of parts. It is easier for a child to think of a cube 
as being made of eight smaller cubes when the cube can be 
physically divided than when the division has to be left to 
tin- imagination. Physical distinctions, however, may be 
so pronounced that they increase the difficulty the small 
child has in thinking the parts into a whole. He cannot 
at first think of a table, a pen, and the room as a whole of 
three objects. The task of bringing three such different 
thiiiL r > tu r ether into one group is too much for his imma- 
ture powers of abstraction. For this ivason the child 
needs aid in his lirsl dealings with numU'r. Things to be 
counted should be as much alike as possible, and when 
they are put together to make a whole the continuity of 
the whole should be obvious to his eye. It is advisable, 
therefore, that tin- ala-us with which he is taught number 
and the operations with number should not be made of a 
numU-r !' Lulls Lut of a numl>er of cubes, so that when 
placed together they form a vi.xiLly continuous whole. 


The perception of number, then, arises out of an activity 

of the mind : it is the mind working on what 
Number. ' 

it sees and handles or hears, and evaluating 

it in terms of something familiar and convenient. It is 
not, however, mere seeing and handling and hearing. The 
mere sensation of six separate sounds would never give 
the idea of six unless the mind thought the six into a 
whole and yet kept each one distinct. There is a double 
movement, an analysis of a whole into parts, and a syn- 
thesis of the parts into a whole, and the mind performs 
such an operation on what it sees and hears and handles 
when an evaluation of a whole is necessary for the exact 
attainment of some end. 

Number, then, takes its root in practical working 
with material things to adapt them more exactly and 
perfectly to our ends. Our forefathers had to plot out 
their land, so they invented the rod or pole; to count their 
cattle, so they invented number. Practical necessity 
drove them to measuring, and a similar necessity should 
drive children into their own first crude attempts. The 
early teaching of number should be entirely in connection 
with the construction with bricks and sticks of various 
objects such as castles, houses, churches, gardens. The 
children should be encouraged to estimate the number of 
bricks required for this side or for that pillar, and to 
divide the bricks into two or four parts according to the 
number of walls to be built. 

Measurement we have seen to be the dividing of a whole 
into parts, and the counting the parts to evaluate the 
whole. This principle of measuring should be carried out 
from the beginning in all teaching of number. The child 
should take a whole thing, and with his hands divide it 
into parts. At first it will be two parts, then three, then 
more. To begin with one object and proceed to two by 


another, an-l s.> on, is not measuring. No true idea 
of number or of unit can come out of such a mode of 
teaching. The Froel>ellian cube should not be built up 
out of its parts by adding one to another, it should be 
taken as a whole and measured by dividing it into two 
parts, then each of these into two, then each of these again 
into two. Similar operations of dividing wholes into parts 
should be performed with all the material used in kinder- 
garten operations squares, triangles, collections of beads, 
and sticks. 

In thus beginning with a whole and dividing it into 
parts emphasis is laid on the true idea of a 
unit. A unit is a part of a whole used to 
HUM sure that whole. It may be a single object, as in count- 
in IT fifteen apples; or a group of objects, as in counting 
in scores or dozens ; or even a fraction of an object, as in 
| of an apple, where the unit is J of the apple, and in 5/ 
of the cost price, where y^jth of the cost price is the unit. 
The size of the unit may change at pleasure or may vary 
from an inch or a fraction of an inch to a multiple of a 
mile, which is the unit in the problem: How many days 
will a man take to walk from Leeds to London at twontv 
miles a day ? 

in the very beginning care must be taken in teaching 
immKer l-st the pupil acquire the notion that things aiv 
always measured in ones, and this idea is sure to be formed 
it the synthetic method of adding one to one, and so on. In- 
employed. He should be practised in dividing the foot- 
rule into two, three, four, and six parts ; his desk into two 
.r three lengths of the foot-rule; a pile of lxads or ln-ans 
into similar numbers of parts. The size of the parts is 
immaterial ; he is not at first asked to measure these : he 

Baling with their nmnl>er. 

Such a mode of beginning will not confine the pupil for 

PB.TO. 27 


many months to dealing with numbers of objects up to ten. 
Much larger numbers can be dealt with by separating 
them into groups. When a child has mastered two by- 
dividing things into two parts he has the material for 
grasping four, for four is simply two groups of two ; after 
which he can proceed to deal with three. Similarly, when 
he has mastered four he can understand four groups of 
four, although lie cannot grasp it as one ten and six ones. 
His power over large numbers is much increased when 

he has been taught ten. The whole range of 
Numeration. , , , . 

number up to one hundred is then open to 

him. He can group things in tens as two tens, three tens, 
and so on and can readily pass to the more conventional 
language, twenty and thirty. It may be argued that such 
a number as one hundred is not within the mental grasp of 
a young child. This is true if by ' mentally grasping ' a 
hundred is meant visualising it as one hundred separate 
things. Even an adult cannot do this. We think a large 
number by grouping it. Ninety- six is nine tens and six 
ones, or twelve eights, or eight twelves. Such power of 
grouping the child can gain, and should from the beginning 
be encouraged to extend. When he has learnt ten he can 
think of ten groups of ten in each group, and in that way 
can deal with considerable numbers of things. 

In dividing collections of objects into groups of ten he 
frequently finds one, two, three, and more objects over, 
and so the numbers are filled up from 10 to 20, 20 to 
30, and so on to 100. The names of these numbers, except 
those from eleven to nineteen, present little difficulty. They 
are readily understood as indicating the system of group- 
ing ; thus eighty-six is eight tens and six ones. Care 
is constantly required at first in dealing with names like 
fourteen. The children are apt to confuse fourteen and 
forty, thinking that each means four tens. 


By such ;i method of teaching, the language of number 

presents few difficulties. It merely em- 
Notation. . mi i i 
phasises the grouping m tens. The verbal 

lanuMiaire. as lias been shown, becomes clear with very little 
help, and when written notation is begun it will appear as 
a natural expression for the mode of grouping. It does 
not seem necessary, then, to adopt any special devices for 
teaching the ordinary tens notation. 

7. Addition and subtraction arise out of comparison 

of things. At first it is a crude comparison 
^ ^is being more than that larger or 
smaller, longer or shorter. When the idea 
of number has arisen this comparison can become more 
exact. The ideas of subtraction and addition arise at 
the same time, the one being the inverse of the other. 
The notion of 7 and 5 together making 12 involves the 
notions of 12 being 5 more than 7, and 7 more than 5. 
Indeed, to add together 7 and 5 and to find the difference 
between 12 and 7 is the same process of counting from 
7 up to 12, only in the first case the final attention is on 
the aggregate 12 and in the latter on the difference 5. 
Thus, subtraction should always be taught as the inverse 
of addition ; that is, as the process of finding the number 
whieh added to the less will make the greater. 

8. No fundamental difference exists between addition 

and multiplication or between subtraction 
an<1 <]ivisi " n - Multiplication is addition in 
ups of more than one and division is 
sul .traction in groups of more than one. Division, tin -n. 
i> the inverse process to multiplication. Though i'unda- 
1 ally the same process of counting, multiplication and 
ire an advance on addition and subtraction. The 
idea of a quantity Ix'inga inimUr of times another ijuantity. 
which i s the essence of the tw.. former, is not present in the 


two latter. There is distinctly brought to consciousness in 
multiplication and division the idea of ratio or ' number 
of times,' an idea which finds its fullest expression in 

Though multiplication and division are an advance on 
addition and subtraction, there is no need to delay the 
teaching of the former until the latter are mastered. In 
working with cubes, sticks, and beans, the ideas of a whole 
being divided into parts and of the whole being a number of 
times the parts will soon be grasped, and only systematic 
encouragement is needed for such an idea to take 
organised form as multiplication, division, and simple 
fractions. Then the four fundamental operations can 
progress side by side. For example, in considering six 
objects cubes, sticks, or beans they may be measured 
as two three's or three two's ; they may be divided into 
parts of five and one,, four and two, three and three ; and 
exercises may be founded on these physical operations, 
which can be expressed in the form 

6=1 + 5 = 2 + 4=3 + 3 = 2 + 2 + 2. 

6-5 = 1, 6-4 = 2, 6-3 = 3, 
6-2 = 4, 6-1 = 5. 

6-^2 = 3, 6 + 3 = 2. 
2x3 = 6, 3x2 = 6. 

of 6 =1 3, i of 6 = 2. 

This method, however, must not be confused with the 
mode of teaching number which begins with the number 
one and takes each number up to twenty in succession, 
subjecting each to a rigid analysis. 'Even if the analysis 
bo performed with the aid of objects, it cannot lead to 


true ideas of number and unit because it is not founded 
on measuring a whole. It confines the unit to one thing, 
and thus limits the activity of the child's mind in grasp- 
ing large numbers by means of grouping. It leads to a 
dry uninteresting grind for months at an endless analysis 
of a few numbers, easily learnt in themselves, and from 
which the child can, and should, progress to grasping 
larger numbers. All that can be said for such a method 
and this, indeed, is its main attraction is that it is 
systematic, and aims at so memorising the component 
parts of miml)ers that calculation becomes automatic. 
9. Systematising of the results of the child's manipula- 
tion of cubes and sticks is an essential part 
Schematising of good teaching, and should be followed 
Memorising. by effective memorising. All future work 

depends on the success of such teaching. 
The child should know by heart the composition of 

every number up to twenty, so that with 
Addition and i a a 

Subtraction quickness, accuracy, and confidence he can 

perform the addition and subtraction of 
smaller numbers. There should be no hesitation in saying 
that the sum of 7 and 8 is 15, or that it requires 6 to be 
added to 8 to make 14. All such operations within the 
limits of twenty should, by frequent and continual practice, 
be made automatic. On such an automatic basis the pupil 
can advance with success to operating with numbers up to 
one hundred. Such operations he should be taught to 
perform mentally. Thus in adding 29 and 35 he will 
think : 29 and 30 is 59 and 5 more is 64 ; and in subtract in;.; 
38 from 76 he will think 8 added to 38 makes 4(i ;m.l BO 
more makes 76. mental work of this kind, a little 
at a tin)'-, luil frequent and varied in character so as to 
sustain ini.-iv>t. will soon make all calculating within a 
hundred quite automatic. 


At the same time the multiplication tables should be 
built up from the results of his experience 
in measuring the various kinds of material 
he has been using. A great help in this is a 
knowledge of the law of commutation, though its name 
should not be used. By grouping a number of objects it 
is made clear to the child that 3 things taken 4 times 
equals 4 things taken 3 times. The principle should be 
mastered by examining several such cases of grouping. 
By applying it the labour of making the tables will be 
reduced by at least one half. The ten times table should 
be the first to be learned. The child can learn it im- 
mediately he has mastered grouping in tens. 

As the table is built up it should be effectively memorised. 
Its use should be made perfectly automatic. Without 
such arithmetical automatism progress will be but halt- 
ing and slow, and will continually break down at crucial 
moments. Nothing so worries and disheartens a teacher 
as to find his pupils slow, stumbling, and wanting in 
confidence because the early memorising of the tables has 
been faulty, and this is equally discouraging to the pupils 

It is not advisable to learn the tables as tables. The 
frequent repetition of a table as a table makes the saying 
of it as a whole habitual, so that frequently a pupil 
cannot give any particular line without starting from the 
beginning, and that, of course, is not to have a command 
of the table. Each line of the table should be known 
independently of every other line, and this can never be 
secured if the lines are not memorised separately. More- 
over 4 and 9 should lead automatically to the product 36, 
whether one thinks of 4 or of 9 first ; similarly 36 should 
lead automatically to the factors 4 and 9, as well as 12 
and 3, and 6 and 6. Such memorising is best done by 


instant and frequent practice of each item or a few items 
at a time in quickly working varied mental problems. 
Each statement should be grasped in all its aspects 
and used in many different ways. For example, the 
exercises on 3 X 4 = 12 might be such as 

Divide 12 nuts among 4 boys. 

Divide 12 nuts into heaps of 4 nuts each. 

3 boys had 4 nuts each; how many altogether 'r 

4 IMV> Ltd 3 nuts each; how many altogeth* 
Find a third of 12 and a quarter of 12. 

What is 3 tens taken 4 times ; 4 dozen taken 3 times ': 
How many thirties in twelve tens ? 
How many times is 36 contained in twelve dozen? 
Divide twelve quarters by three and by four. 
Give all the factors of 12. 

Such practice as this for a few minutes daily will 
ultimately lead to multiplication and division with 
numbers up to twelve becoming quite automatic, and 
until such habituation is reached no good teacher will 


The child's measurements, however, will not be confined 
f to counting objects in ones or in groups. 
Length, They should extend over as wide a ran-v 

Weight, Money, .^ possible. Lengths, weights, and money 
should be in regular use both in actual prac- 
tice and as the basis of problems. The operations AY it h 
these should be systematised in tallies in a manner similar 
to that by which the multiplication tables were constructed. 
These tables should !' the outcome of actually measuring 
lengths and weights, and of dealing with money represented 
by counters. 

Th.- i'.M.t-riilf is an excellent instrument upon which to 
baae a large variH v . .1' in<M-urenients and calculations. It 
has already been shown how it can ! measured M - 


inches, 3 four inches, 4 three inches, 6 two inches. Simi- 
lar operations can be performed with a yard measure, 
which can be measured in feet, or in units of 9, 6, 4, 3, or 
2 inches. These results, worked with the actual yard- 
measure and its divisions before them, can be made the 
basis of a great variety of practice in multiplication and 
division. Similar practice can be obtained with weights 
and with money. 

Throughout the whole of this first period, then, the 
actual practical measurements and the problems based on 
such measurements will be in relation to the systems of 
measurement in common use in daily life. 

The tables of weights, lengths, money, and time should 
be effectively memorised in such a way that a child can use 
automatically the fractional parts of a shilling and pound, 
of a foot and yard, of an ounce, pound, and stone, and of 
an hour and day. 

10. Working with these tables involves the changing 
from one unit to another. This change 

Reduction from w in come as no surprise to pupils who have 

one Unit to . 

Another. b 6611 consistently taught to regard a unit 

as any group of things convenient for mea- 
surement, and its expression in a distinct notation will 
satisfy a felt want. To group things into tens, dozens, or 
scores, pence into shillings and pounds, inches into feet, 
and ounces into pounds avoirdupois, to change from one 
kind of grouping into another, will only be a natural 
development of the early teaching. Carrying from ones 
to tens, pence to shillings, inches to feet will not seem to 
be juggling with figures, but will appear as a greater con- 
venience and as the natural and proper thing to do. 

Practice in changing units should be as wide and as 
varied as possible and should call into play all the frac- 
tional parts of shilling and pound, foot and yard, ounce 


and pound avoirdupois, day, hour, and minute. Mental 
work of this kind increasing in difficulty will form an 
excellent preparation for the longer calculations by Simple 
and Compound Practice, which are only more complex 
forms of the same kind of operation. 

In calculating by ' Practice ' the pupils should be taught 
to work either by means of addition or subtraction, which- 
ever is found to be the more convenient; for example, 
85 articles at 17/6 = 85 times (10/- + 5/- + 2/6), but 85 
times (1 2/6) will be more quickly worked. 

11. Almost the whole of the teaching of arithmetic to 
the younger pupils will be mental work, and 
Written with numbers within the limits of one hun- 

Arithmetic. dred they should be able to work a very 
great variety of problems involving opera- 
tions with all the rules and tables. Gradually, however, 
tlu- written forms of arithmetical language must be taught , 
at first by being used on the blackboard, afterwards by 
the pupils on paper. The written work will be exactly 
he same character, difficulty, and complexity as the 
mental work, until the pupils become quite familiarised 
with the written form of arithmetical language. It is thus 
at the beginning, not a question of teaching a new kind 
of work, but only of teaching a new language for what can 
already be done mentally and expressed in verbal language. 
All forms of mathematical symbols should be taught, such 
as +, , x , -:-, =, and the fractional form as in . 

When the pupils have become quite familiarised with 

thi> writ ten language they should advance to work i n^ sums 

;in<l problems of greater length ami cmjl<-xil y. The 

difficulty <>f dealing mentally \\illi large nu miters and com- 

plex v. ill be an obvious justification to the child 

rin.ii Arithmetic, whilst its convenience as a means of 

animating arithmetical processes and results toot JUTS 


may easily be made manifest to him. Iii written work 
only those operations and steps should be given which the 
pupil finds necessary either in assisting his memory or in 
making clear to a reader the line of mathematical reasoning 
by which he reaches his results. 

The method of working addition, subtraction, multipli- 
cation, and division in written work should always be the 
most convenient, not simply for present work, but in refer- 
ence to future needs. 

Many methods are employed in working subtraction, and 

pupils can readily understand and gain pro- 
Subtraction. i . . 

ficiency in any of them. The most convenient 

method for future needs is that of complementary addition. 
This method follows naturally from considering subtrac- 
tion as the inverse operation of addition, and this we have 
seen is the most logical way of thinking subtraction. In 
finding the difference between 29 and 52 this method 
proceeds by asking : What must be added to 29 to 
make 52 ? Beginning with the ones column first, the 
child should think 9 and 3 is 12, giving 1 ten to carry to 
the 2 tens and requiring 2 tens more to make 5 tens. 
In written multiplication it is usual to begin multiplying 
by the ones figure first and to proceed with 
OIL the figures of higher value in order. The 
most convenient method, however, is to begin with the 
figure of greatest place value, because such a mode of work- 
ing is essential to the teaching of approximations, which 
should come later in school life. The method is shown as 







Division we have seen to be a mode of subtraction. In 

dividing 2892 by 6 we proceed to subtrurt in 

sixes, 4 hundred sixes being subtracted first, 

thru 8 tens of sixes, and finally 2 sixes. This operation of 

subtracting is fully set forth in the long form >1 

482 expression, and hence this form as being more 

6(2892 complete than the shortened form should precede 

it in the teaching. 

43 When the nature of this operation has been 

1 _ grasped and the pupils have become familiar with 
1? the steps the long form of expression may be re- 
placed by the shortened form. On this plan of 
touching the pupils have no difficulty in understanding 
long division when its use is demanded by a large divisor. 
The placing the figures of the quotient above the figures 
of corresponding place value in the dividend makes it 
easier for the child to realise the place value of each fig inv- 
alid is the surest means of avoiding the omission of when 
it occurs in the quotient. 

In working problems the writing should show the im- 
portant steps of the solution, and the num- 
bers written should be sufficiently laU'lled 
to make their application clear. Nothing, however, of the 
mechanical calculation should be written which can be 
done mentally. 

Ii is important in working problems that the pupils 

,'d think out the whole method of the solution before 

they put pen to paper, and should do this not simply in u 

concrete form as applying to this particular example, but 

in a -'-iiei-al I'-. nn as applying !> all problems .,f this kind. 

Doing this will enrourau r - their advance to gnu- nil forms 

\pression from which the step to symiiolir expression 

will IK; easy. By the pupils U--inninu r thus early to OH 

general forms a in simple cases the ad\an 


generalised arithmetic, and finally to algebra, will be 
made very gradual, besides which these symbolic forms 
will then appear as a shorter and more convenient form 
than words. A suitable method of written expression 
for problems which will secure all these advantages is 
illustrated in the following example : A man buys 8 Ibs. 
of tea at 3s. per Ib. and sells it for 2. What is his 
gain ? 

Gain = Selling Price Cost Price. 

40s. 24s. = 16s. 

12. Just as the mechanical part of mental work can only 
become automatic by constant and frequent 
P ractice 8O tne mechanical part of written 
Arithmetic. work requires a large amount of practice to 
secure quick, accurate, and confident manipu- 
lation of figures. This part of the teaching of arithmetic 
may suitably be called ' drill,' for its object is to produce 
perfect mechanism. Perfect written work of this character 
can only result from a good basis of mental automatism, and 
every means should be employed to make mental calcula- 
tion as unhesitating, as accurate, and as rapid as possible. 
A few minutes at the beginning of every arithmetic lesson 
should be devoted to this mental drill, which should be 
made as varied and progressive as the ingenuity of the 
teacher can devise. In written work, as has been said, the 
pupils should not be permitted to work calculations on 
paper that they are able to do mentally. In this way the 
memory for figures and the concentration of attention on 
working with them will be developed. Drill in written 
work will be less frequent than mental drill, but it is a 
form of exercise that is at times useful. Long calculations 
involving the four rules will encourage habits of care and 
accuracy, and give such practice in manipulating figures as 
will lead to rapidity and confidence. 


13. Tt lias been our desire so far to show that the 
teaching of arithmetic' should arise out of 
Arithmetic ^ e ar ^ ^ llieasur ing an( l lead back to it. 
lu the primary teaching of number it is 
hoped that we have indicated sufficiently clearly how the 
theory of number should develop out of the child's prac- 
tical constructions. This connection between the practical 
activities of the child and the teaching of arithmetic 
should be maintained throughout. The teaching should 
endeavour at all stages to give the pupil a more exact 
con 1 11 land over the problems of practical life. With this 
principle in view we have already advocated that the 
sums and problems to be worked should bear on the 
measurement of things in common daily use either in 
school, at home, or in the neighbourhood. The measure- 
ments should not be confined to those of money, but should 
extend to those of length, weight, cubic capacity, and time. 
Not only should these tables form the basis of mental 
and written work, but a considerable amount of practical 
measuring should give reality to theory. 

The foot-rule and yard-measure should be in frequent 
use in measuring the lengths, widths, and 
^''itfhts f desks, cupboards, windows, doors, 
walls, and other articles in the school or near 
it, and these measurements should be brought into pro- 
Mems ior mental and written work requiring the operations 
of multiplication and division as well as those of addition 
and subtraction. 

In measuring lengths the pupils should not always be 
dependent on the foot or yard measure, and they should 
be trained to judge distance with the eve with approximate 
accuracy. There are plenty of objects in the class-room 
playground on which thev can practise to this end. 
Tlie\ should letrn to ectimfcte longer d ist a i uvs by stepping. 


The measurement of objects will lead on to, and lie 
combined with, the expression of their shape 
Drawing of in a plan. The meaning of a plan in 
Outlines to expressing position and contour is taught in 
Scale. connection with the geography. The pupils 

should at first draw the plan of a cube, ink- 
well, or book, by tracing round the edge of the object, 
afterwards drawing their plans entirely from measurement. 
The idea of drawing to scale must be grasped early, for in 
the course on geography the form of a country or county 
has to be expressed by means of a small model and a 
small map, which should be examined side by side. No 
new idea is involved, for the pupils are quite familiar 
with pictures and photographs being smaller than the 
objects they represent, and are aware that the parts of 
the picture must be in proportion. As soon as they have 
grasped the principle that the proportion of the parts 
must be preserved they can begin drawing to scale. This 
will l)e about the third year. 

To be of real value, drawing to scale should be from 
actual measurements of an object. The pupils should 
work out the scale to which the object should be drawn by 
comparing the size of the object with the size of the paper. 
Moreover, considerable ingenuity needs to be exercised in 
many cases in selecting the most suitable lines in the object 
for measurement. The aim of the pupils should be to take 
only those measurements which are absolutely essential. 
The greatest accuracy both in measuring and in drawing 
should be insisted on. This accuracy can be tested 
by the pupils making calculations from their draw- 
ings. A number of lines in the drawing not previously 
measured should be measured, and the length of the 
corresponding lines in the object calculated. By com- 
paring the result of these calculations with the actual 


measured lengths of the lines in the object some idea 
will be obtained of the accuracy of drawing or of 
measuring. The constructive ingenuity of the pupils ran 
be exercised by their designing simple objects, such as a 
table, cupboard, or bookcase, to fit certain parts of the 
room, and suited for some definite purpose. 

Practical work in measuring weight and cubical capacity 

is not so easy to organise, but such practical 

Measurements work is necessary if the pupils are to realise 

CuMcaf ht and fuU y the meanin g of ouuce and pound, pint 
Capacity. find quart. By handling objects the pupils 

should be trained to estimate their approxi- 
mate weight, and by looking at vessels to judge their 
probable capacity. 

A number of money counters should be in use, and 
interesting practice can be obtained by 
'keeping shop.' In this exercise one pupil 
should come before the class with piles of 
counters for coins arranged in order of value. He has to 
imagine himself a grocer or draper or some other trades- 
man : other pupils in turn come out, and in imagination 
buy various articles, stating the amount they require and 
the price per pound, ounce, or yard they wish to pay. 
Thru they present a coin and request change. The whole 
class should perform the calculation, and quickness and 
accuracy can be encouraged by allowing tin- tirst who calcu- 
lates the change correctly to take the place of the shop- 
keeper until ousted by a quicker rival. The articles asked 
for should be those in common use, and the prices quoted 
those usually current, so that the pupils will become 
familiar with the value of common things, and acquire 
quickness in calculating the amount of a lull and tin- 
change required an acquirement their parents will .loul.t- 
less appreciate at its full value. 


14. We have seen that by about the fifth year of school 

life the pupils should be advancing into the 

Rational Stage rat inal stage of arithmetic. They should, 

during the early years, have attained good 

working notions of quantity, unit, and ratio, though 

these terms should not have been submitted to them 

for exact examination, and should be quite familiar 

with notation, the four rules, and simple fractions, 

with all the tables in daily use and with operations on 

those tables. 

These working notions should now be subjected to a rigid 
analysis, so that clear conceptions may be attained. The 
decimal notation and the fractional expression should be 
extended to their widest limits. With the fundamental 
notions of measuring and of the modes of expressing its 
results made definite and clear, the pupils will have a firm 
ground from which they can proceed, by strict deductive 
reasoning, into the higher branches of arithmetical measure- 
ment. In this higher stage new and more complex kinds 
of quantities have to be measured, requiring different kinds 
of units, but no new principles of measurement will be in- 
volved. The method of dealing with these quantities will 
need but a direct application of the principles now to 
be set forth. In this application, however, the new 
quantities to be measured must be carefully examined, 
their nature made clear, and the kind of unit necessaiy to 
measure them considered. For example, in measuring 
Simple Interest the pupils should first examine the relation 
of the interest to the principal and time in a particular 
case. They will find it varies directly with each, and are 
thus prepared to suggest an appropriate kind of unit for 
measuring interest, and to appreciate how the unit or rate 
of interest is a certain fraction of the principal paid 


Tliis method of teaching the new kinds of measurements 
in tli is stage must not be confused with the so-called 
'Deduction from a number of examples' so frequently 
advocated. The two methods are diametrically opposed. 
The latter is in reality an Induction by Analogy, and in 
practice it too often degenerates into the mere fami- 
liarising the pupils with a rule by working a number of 
simple examples, the essential resemblances between the 
instances being never laid bare by a careful examination 
of uiiy one case. It is by a close analysis of the nature of 
the quantity and the unit of measurement that a clear, 
definite, and general rule of working will be reasoned out 
by the pupils. This analysis can frequently be aided by 
considering a concrete example as a type, but this is only 
in order that there may be some definite point or centre 
on which to fix the attention. Even concrete examples as 
types are not always necessary, the pupils being quite cap- 
aMf of concentrating their attention on the simpler ideas 
when expressed in general terms, and whenever possible t his 
should be done without resort to methods more suited to 
pupils in the lower and empiric stage. 

\V may consider, then, that as the pupil advances 
into the region of definite conceptions he is 
i!? Symbol^ 8 becoming more and more prepared to think 
them in the abstract, and to use general 
terms in referring to thnn and to operations performed 
with them, and from this is but a step to the still moiv 
abstract symbolic forms. We have already shown that 
pupils tff eight or nine can be led to express the working 
of problems in a general form, from which they can 
soon pass to formulating a rule 1>\ considering a 
general case and then expressing it symbolically. 
example, in working out the rule for measuring Simple 

PB 28 


Interest for a number of years 

^L? of Principal X number of years. 

Symbolised, this becomes 

From this they can pass to such problems as 

If P be lent for n years at r / per annum, what is the 
interest ? 

If I be the interest on <P for n years, what is the 
interest on P for 1 year, and on d100 for 1 year ? 

If I be the interest on <P at r %, what is the interest 
on ,100 for one year, and on P for 1 year ; and what is 
the number of years for P to gain I ? 

If I be the interest for n years at r %, what is the 
interest on <100 for n years, and what is the number of 
pounds that will produce I interest ? 

The problems to be worked should frequently refer to 
general quantities ; for example : Find the cost of papering 
a room h yards high, 6 yards broad, I yards long at r/- per 
square yard ; or in a yet more advanced f orm : State in 
symbolic terms a rule for finding the difference between 
the number of revolutions of two unequal bicycle wheels 
in going a certain distance. The latter problem should 
be worked as follows : 

Let R and r be the radii of the two wheels : 

Then %7rR and ZTTT will be the circumferences ; 

No. of Revolutions in going distance D = = ~ and - 

2t1T 1 47TT 

TV D D D (\ \\ 

Difference = 6 -- ^ 5 == 1. 

2?rr %7rR 2* \r RJ 

Every type of rule and problem can be treated in a 
similar way, and such exercises are a most convenient and 


MiitaMe stepping-stone to algebra. lu the pupils' mind .; 
the symbols will stand for* well understood quantities, and 
the operations performed will be grasped as relating these 
quantities in certain definite ways\ 

Though becoming more rational, more abstract, and 
more symbolic, the teaching should none the 
The Progress } ess ann a ^ bringing the pupils into con- 
in Practical .. - r T. -XT- 
Measurement, tmually roller touch with actual measuring. 

The practical work in this higher stage 
should l)c of a more exact and complex character than in the 
lower. Indirect measuring involving the use of formulae 
and calculation will take the place of direct measuring. 
The pupils will measure inaccessible distances such as 
height of a tree or house, regular and irregular areas and 
volumes, densities of various bodies by various methods, 
forces as applied in the lever, inclined plane, and pulley. 
Thus the arithmetic will be of a very broad character, 
bringing the pupil into more thorough and varied 
relations with the real world of things, from which 
he can 1 -arn something of their nature and so turn them 
to use. 

This later stage of arithmetic, then, should witness a 
Id advance an advance in depth and rationality of 

mrnt.and in complexity and extent of measurement. 
The former will hegin ly an analysis of the process of 
measuring to search out the relations between quantity, 
unit and numler, and to establish the principles governing 
the notation of number, the expression of number in a, 

ional form, ratio, proport ion, and percentages. These 
principles, when taught, will le applied to the measuring 
of various new kinds of quantities increasing in complexity 
of niea-urenient, while the rules deduced for operating 
with them will be summarised in symbolic form for 
future use. 


15. The pupils, then, will begin with the relation be- 
tween quantity, unit, and number. These 
betwee^ 10 notions spring out of a careful analysis of 
Quantity, the act of measuring. It has already been 

Number, and geen ^] ia { a W h l e i s measured by being 

divided into a number of equal parts, and 
the evaluation is the number of times the whole contains 
one of the parts. In measuring a whole quantity there is 
a comparison of one quantity with another the whole with 
the part and the result of that comparison is number. 
Number is, then, the ratio between the whole measured 
and the unit of measurement and is obtained by dividing 

the whole by the unit, thus : N = ^. 

Thus a whole is measured by a fraction of itself and 
its quantity estimated by the number of such fractional 
parts. For example, to measure a field as 8 acres is to 
measure it by one-eighth of itself, and this relation can be 
expressed as follows : the field = 8 acres, or 1 acre = 1/8 
of the field, or the field = 8/8 times the field. Thus a 
unit from the point of view of the whole is a fraction, and 
the number of such fractional parts in the whole is the 
ratio of the whole to the unit. 

In measuring, however, it is usual to fix on certain 
quantities as standard units and to evaluate all quantities 
in terms of these. By having a common and familiar unit 
quantities can be more conveniently compared with each 
other by referring them to this unit, when the relation be- 
tween the numbers will indicate the relation between the 

For examples, if two quantities A and B be measured 
by reference to the common unit, one foot, as 12 ft. 
and 5 ft. ; then the number of times A is contained 
in B 


or A is -- times B t 

or B is times A. 

T" iii-'isuro quantities by the same unit implies that the 
quantities are of the same kind. Two objects may be 
o i 11 pa rod as to quantity in various ways in length, weight, 
or value. The length of one, however, cannot be com- 
pared directly with the weight or value of the other, but 
only with its length. Moreover, these lengths cannot be 
brought into arithmetical relation unless they are measured 
by the same unit. For example, 4 yards can only be 
brought into ratio with 5 feet when both are expressed in 
yards or feet, as 12 feet and 5 feet. Then we can say one 
is 5/12 of the other, their sum is 17 feet, and their 
litlVrence 7 feet. 

From the notion of comparing quantities by reference 
to the same unit arises the Method of Unity. In compar- 
ing the cost of five with the cost of eight articles we can 
refer each to the cost of one as a standard unit. If then 
we know that the 5 articles cost 3 and wish to estimate 
the cost of 8 we can say : The cost of 8 = 8 times ,3/5, 
which statement is all the pupils need to write in their 
books. The advance to proportion should be made later 
when fractions have been thoroughly considered. Tlim 
the statement will appear as 

The cost of 8 = f times the cost of 5 
= f X 3. 

'I he pupils by that tiin<> will !>< ;il.l<> t<> understand that 
8/5 <>t i':: is the same as 8 times 3 5, 

Tlii- -r<.iml\v.>rk in tin- prin.-iplrs ..!' im-asurement being 
laid and made familiar 1>\ pra<-t !..-. ilu- pupils can advance 


to the consideration of the notation of number and of 

16. The deeper analysis of notation is connected with 
the teaching of Decimals. The pupils should 

The Decimal ty this time be quite at home with group- 
Notation. . i ? 

ings ot any kind, in tours, dozens, scores, 

and also with changing from one system of grouping to 
another. They have now to grasp thoroughly that the 
decimal notation standardises grouping in tens. Further- 
more, they will be quite familiar with the idea of a fraction 
being a unit, and hence they will have no difficulty in 
grasping that a systematic notation must arrange for a 
progressive series of fractional units, a one being divided 
into ten parts giving tenths, and each tenth again into ten 
parts giving hundredths. 

In operating with decimals several rules previously 
taught should be more fully examined and made clearer 
by reference to first principles. For example, only units 
of the same kind can be added or subtracted, from which 
it follows that ones must be placed under ones, tenths 
under tenths, and so on. The pupils will easily suggest 
that this is best secured by placing under one another the 
signs which indicate the point of transition from whole 
to fractional numbers. Again, a figure of a certain value 
when multiplied or divided by a ones figure gives a figure 
of the same value. Thus, 4 tenths x 3 = 12 tenths. The 
pupils should be familiarised with this rule by working 
such examples as 76' 34 x 4 or -f- 3, from which they should 
pass to grasping the principle of moving the decimal point 
when multiplying or dividing by ten or any multiple or 
power of ten, and to becoming familiar with it by practice. 
When this is thoroughly understood neither multipli- 
cation nor division by larger number will present much 


Several methods are advocated for multiplying and 
dividing decimals. Simplicity and uniformity should 
ijuide our choice. In multiplication it is simpler to keep 
;ill decimal points under each other, and more convenient 
for future work to begin multiplying with the figure of 
highest value. In division any system of moving the 
decimal point about is cumbrous. The numbers should 
be left as they are given, and the nature of the answer 
estimated by considering the values of the divisor and the 
dividend. In an example such as 97653-84 -r- 236'9 the 
divisor extends to tenths, and therefore until tenths are 
exhausted in the dividend the figures in the quotient will 
be whole numbers. The pupils in working the sum should 
think : '2369 tenths divides into 976538 tenths a whole 
number of times. When the 4 hundredths is reached the 
next figure in the quotient will be fractional and will be 
placed to the right of the decimal point. 

While the teaching of these operations is going on, the 

decimal notation should be applied to mea- 

Svstem * suring lengths and weights in metres and 

grammes. The pupils should be practised 

in changing rapidly from one unit to another by moving 

the decimal point, and this operation is greatly aided by 

arranging the table in this form : 

Km. Hm. Dm. m. dm. cm. mm. 

1 8 3 r, 6 

frm which it can be grasped at once that 18350 cm. 
- 1*3-. m. = 1-8356 Hm., and so on. 

The metre-nil.' should be in constant use to measure 

doors, desks, windows, and walls, and for measuring smaller 

object* such as small cubes, cylinders, and cones the 

pupils should have rul.-s divided into cm. and mm. on one 

,md inches, twelfths, and sixteenths of an inch on the 



This practical work will lead to the consideration of 
approximations. In the measuring of small 
tions 5 an ^ l ar g e bodies the pupils will soon dis- 

cover that errors arise from a variety of 
causes, and the degree of accuracy which can be obtained 
in various cases should be noted. The personal equation 
in measuring can be shown by allowing all the pupils 
to make the same measurements, such as finding the 
relation of the circumference of a circle to the radius, 
when the discrepancy in their results will be obvious. All 
practical measurement will thus be seen to be only an 
approximation, and from this it is clear that no calcula- 
tions from such measurements can attain a greater degree 
of accuracy. If, therefore, a length is measured accurately 
to centimetres it is absurd to calculate from this measure- 
ment in millimetres except for purposes of carrying. It 
is, therefore, necessary in dealing with practical calcula- 
tions to teach the pupils the various methods of 

The comparison between the English and Frencn 
systems of units will serve to bring out the 

Development s fc a te o f perfection to which the science of 

of Numeration .., . . , , _., . 

on Notation. arithmetic has arrived. The examination of 

the metric system will have revealed that, 
with ten figures combined with the principle of place 
value, any number, large or small, whole or frac- 
tional, referring to any kind of quantity, can be readily 
and systematically expressed in the same notation. The 
superior facilities gained by extending the decimal system 
to all kinds of measurement, and the cumbrous nature of 
the English system of weights and measures, will be 

It will be both interesting and instructive for the pupils 
to work out the development of numeration and notation 


t'rm its earliest Winnings, and the teacher should amply 
illustrate each stage by reference to the various arith- 
metical notations used in past ages and in other countries 
In this wav they will begin to realise in some measure the 
time and thought expended in the gradual perfecting of 
arithmetical expression and calculation. They will see the 
science of arithmetic as a thing of life and growth, being 
wrought into greater and greater perfection by many hands 
in many countries through countless years. They will be- 
gin to appreciate something of the debt they owe, not only 
to their forefathers, but to such distant and alien races as 
the Hindu and Arab. 

To trace the origin of numeration and notation the 
pupils should try to realise what it means to know nothing 
of numeration or of figures. They will see that our remote 
ancestors, having no system of numbering already invented 
for them, were driven to count by reference to some conveni- 
ent standard always available. Such a counting instrument 
is provided by the hand with its ten fingers. With the hands 
. .1 .jects will l>e counted in fives or in tens according as one or 
both hands are employed. Some races as the Eskimo, the 
North American Indians, and the native races of Central 
and South America chose five as their system of grouping. 
The Egyptians, Hindus, Greeks, and Romans chose ten. 
The advantage of the wider ten system will be obvious. 

The pupils can now proceed to the development of the ten 
system. They should imagine themselves with only their 
ten fingers and a large number of objects to count A,l 
will go well until they reach ten and In^in t. count jmotl-.-r 
ten. then the need of marking off the number of tens will 
present itself. They will readily suggest that some symbol 
irk should !M> taken to represent a group of ten. At 
first a small pel. Me can 1..- uecL As the |H-II|I|I-S begin to 
accuni u la t- the necessity <f counting these arises, and as 


the fingers will not permit of counting beyond ten a larger 
pebble will be needed to represent ten groups of ten. And 
so the counting will go on. Here, then, was one of the 
origins of the decimal system. 

Soon, names and then written signs would be invented 
as modes of communicating numbers from man to man 
more convenient than pebbles of various sizes. There 
would be a name for every number from one to nine, 
then for every group from ten to ninety and so on. This 
stage of counting can be illustrated by showing to the 
pupils many ancient systems of notation, such as the 
alphabetic system of the Greeks, the Eoman numerals, the 
picture writing of the Egyptians. By attempting to work 
a multiplication or division sum with such a notation as 
the Roman they will soon begin to realise its unsuitability 
for calculation, and they will be interested in having illus- 
trated to them the long and inconvenient method of 
reckoning by means of counters or the abacus. 

Understanding the imperfections of these systems the 
pupils will readily suggest that the next great step in the 
growth of arithmetic was the invention of the system of 
place value. By this invention they will see that calcula- 
tion without the use of counters or of abacus becomes pos- 
sible. Here the teacher should impress on the pupils the 
debt we owe to the Hindu astronomers who first taught 
this system to the world, and to the Arabs who preserved 
HJid perfected its use during the long dark ages. 

The development of fractious will be very instructive as 
throwing much light on the respective merits of the deci- 
mal and duodecimal systems. The pupils can readily 
suggest the advantages arising from varying the denomi- 
nator systematically in descending powers of ten. The 
superiority of twelve to ten should, however, be pointed 
out j the much-used fractions ^, -J, -J-, and -J- being read i 1 y 


and conveniently expressed in twelfths, whilst J and | are 
only expressed in tenths by means of recurring decimals. 
The teacher should here show the duodecimal system of 
fractions used by the Romans, which lingers in the terms 
inch (*2 of a foot) and ounce (^ of a pound Troy) ?///</. 
1 n-inu r the Latin for a twelfth. A further heritage from the 
Romans is found in the familiar . s. d., " said to be from 
Latin libra, a balance, a pound in weight; solidus, a coin 
of the value of twenty-five denarii, subsequently only half 
of that value; and denarius, a silver coin worth 8Jd. 
Kmrlish." 1 The sexagesimal system of the Babylonians 
should also receive attention, as from them we borrowed 
our system of measuring angles and hours in divisions of 
sixty minutes and sixty seconds. 

The origin of the many and various units for measuring 
length and weight will show to the pupils how naturally 
these units came into being, and how intimately they were 
connected with the daily life and work of our ancestors. 
Thcv measured length with their fingers, their hand, their 

and their outstretched anns, and so we get the finger's 
l>iva<lth, the span, the foot, and the fathom. The cubit 
was the length of the forearm; a furlong the usual 
of a ploughed furrow; whilst the ral>le's length 

fathoms) was the usual length of rope for anchoring 
a ship. Tli- grain <>f wheat gave a measure for weight anl 
the grain of barley for length, three barleyi-oriis making 
on*- inch. 

H,.w-v<-r interesting the pupils may find the account of 
the origin <.f these units, the\ will have little diflicultv 
in realising their complexity and t he confusion that follows 
from th-ir simultaneous use. Tliev \\ill readily see that 
civilisation demands thai we should l-ring nur- 

1 Stnniiiitli'- /'"'./ / ' try. 


selves into line with other countries and adopt a system of 
units more methodical and more symmetrical. 

17. After the decimal notation has been clearly grasped 
and familiarised fractions will provide occa- 
sion for the further study of the theory of 

The early teaching of arithmetic should have made 
familiar to the pupils the notion of a fraction, for the idea 
is involved in all measuring. A whole is measured by 
being divided into equal parts and is thus a certain 
number of times each such part. This idea first receives 
conscious attention in considering multiplication and divi- 
sion, and the fractional form of expression should be taught 
in conjunction with these. By this means a working 
notion of a fraction will have been developed and the 
various operations with simple and convenient fractions 
will be quite possible, such operations for example as 1/5 
of 25 ft., 4/5 of 25 ft., 9/10 ft. -f- 3, 4/5 ft. x 4, 5/12 ft. 
3/12 ft. Moreover the fractional parts of a shilling, 
pound, foot, yard, and other common standard units will 
have been taught and will have formed the basis of work- 
iiiLj, a considerable number of problems. 
In progressing to the more rational consideration of 
fractions the teacher should proceed from 

Rational Idea the point to which the pupils have already 
of Fractions. , T , ,, , J 

advanced. It would be a great mistake to 

begin here with dividing such an object as an apple or a 
square into equal parts. At this stage the pupils should 
be beyond this method of illustration and should be 
capable of appreciating rational inference from general 
principles. Starting with the idea of measuring a whole, 
say a wall measured as 12 yards, they should proceed by 
close analytic examination to work out in general terms 
the meaning of a fraction and the principles that govern 


operations with fractious. They should grasp that the 
measurement may be expressed either as : the wall = 12 ft. ; 
r. 1 yd. = 1 1:2 of the wall. The parts may theii be num- 
bered in terms of one such part, in which case 1/12 of 
tlu- wall is the unit. It gives the name or label to the 
number, hence the term 'denominator,' while the number 
of such units is shown by the * numerator.' It will be 
dear that tin- total number of parts, or 12/12 of the wall, 
will l>e the whole wall, from which the pupils can pass to 
the general statement that whatever parts a whole be 
divided int.. the total number of such parts makes up the 
win le. Tin's statement should be symbolised in the 

A whole = } ^ = | = = = . . . . ", . From this it is easy 
to proceed to the principle that as the number of parts 
increases so the value of the part proportionately de- 
creases. It takes 4 eighths to equal 2 quarters or 1 
half. This principle, examined by means of a foot-rule 
aa a typical case, should be expressed finally in the form 
a/b = na/nb. 

These main principles having been established and made by the pupils applying them to a sufficiently largo 
number of examples, the way is quite clear to proceed to 
elaborate from them the rules for operating with fractional 

Tlu- method of adding and subtracting fractious is an 
immediate application of the principle that 

Additionand quantities cannot be ln.u-ht into arithme- 

Subtraction of , . . , , . 

Fractions. n '' a ^ relation unless they are measured l.y the 

same un cannot he added to do/ens, 

nor thirds to quarters. The change to a common unit 

the principle n'b = najnb. It is quite unneces- 

sary to illustrate 1-y mean* of diagrams. The principles 

once grasped the .ipplicati-.n .-an f.llo\\ I.; an appeal to 


reason without taking the pupils back to elementary ami 
empiric illustration. 

By a similar general process the method of multiplying 

can be inferred from the meaning of mul- 
Multiplication implication applied to the meaning of a 

fraction. A fraction, say 3/5 ft., has two 
meanings, (a) 3 times 1/5 ft., and (&) 1/5 of 3 ft. The 
denominator thus indicates division of a whole, and the 
numerator multiplication of a part. Hence 

3 times J yds. = 3 times 7 times J yd. = _ 1-Z yds., 


S x 7 

and | of | yds. will be 5 times less, i.e. - yds. 

o X 5 

' Cancelling ' can then be taken as a direct application of 
a/b = na/nb. 

In considering division its twofold meaning should 
be made clear. We may be asked to find 

Division of either the number of parts when given their 
Fractions. . ,, . * . ,, . 

size, or the size ot each part when given their 

number. The former view is the more convenient for 
dealing with division of fractional quantities. For 
example, 5/7 yd. -f- 3/4 yd. means the number of times 
3/4 yd. is contained in 5/7 yd. and the answer is the num- 
ber that 3/4 must be multiplied by to make 5/7. Now, 1/4 
must be multiplied by 4 to make 1 and 3/4 by three times 
less, i.e. by 4/3. Therefore, to make 5/7 the fraction 3/4 
must be multiplied by 5/7 of 4/3. Hence 5/7 -f- 3/4 = 5/7 
of 4/3. 

The pupils should be taken through these proofs step by 

step and without hurry. At each important 
Generalised stage they should stop to work examples in 

order to become familiar with the new ideas 
and processes and to prepare the way for the steps to 


odma Finally, they should proceed to symbolic expres- 
sion, us for example 

(i < _ 

b ~ d ~ h.l 

a c _ a x c _ <t<- 

b d ~ b X </ ~ Inl ' 

b ' d b c be 

G.C.M. aiid L.C.M. should be taught just so far as they 
are essential to working with fractional quantities. Short 
and quick methods of working by factorisation should Ixj 
adopted. The pupils should have plenty of drill in factor- 
isinu r and should know how to discover whether such 
simple numbers as 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 8, 9, 10, and 12 are factors 
of a larger number. 

18. After fractions have been considered the idea of 

ratio can be made fully explicit, and, in com- 

itio, Propor- bination with the idea of proportion, can be 

Equations. used in the solution of problems. This idea 

of ratio of one quantity l>ein^ a nuinl 
times another is not a new one. It was involved in 
multiplication and division and should have received more 
explicit examination in tin- treatment of fractions. We 
have already seen that two quantities to In-compared must 
IK- ,,t' the same kind and measured in the same unit. So 
to compare say 1 yards and 5 feet they must l>e expresse 1 
as 12 feet and 5 feet, from which we can say that 
'et is 5/12 of 12 feet, and 

I 12/5 of 5 feet, or 

symbols-ally. ,, feet is a/b times 6 feet. 

But we may consider an object in several aspects at the 

same time for example, in volume, in weight, in value. In 

most cases these are in definite relations to each other. 

They van t<.-,. t her. so that it' OO6 is increased ordccreaaed 


a number of times the others are increased or decreased in 
a like ratio. If then we take two similar objects A and B, 
of volumes a and b, the number of times A's volume con- 
tains B's volume is the same as the number of times 
A's weight or value contains B's weight or value, which 
is more shortly expressed as 

A's volume _ A's weight _ A's value _ a 
B's volume B's weight B's value b 

This direct relation does not apply to all objects. The 
volume of a cube does not vary directly with the length of 
its side, but with that length cubed, and the area of a 
square with the side squared, while the length of time to 
complete a piece of work should vary inversely with the 
number of men employed. 

The fractional form for ratio and the equational form for 
proportion, besides being the most convenient and work- 
able, are by far the easiest to grasp. These forms express 
precisely what is meant by ratio and proportion. Katio is 
the number of times one quantity is contained in another, 
hence it should be expressed so as to show that the one is 
divided by the other ; that is, as a fraction. Proportion 
implies things varying equally, therefore an equational 
form is the most suitable. 

The equational form of proportion suggests that here 
will be a most convenient place for beginning simple 
equations, in which the unknown quantity is represented 
by the symbol x. Thus in working the problem : Find 
the cost of 98 yards if 50 yards cost 7, we will let x 
represent the cost of 98 yards. Then 
x_ 98 
7 ~ 50 

This method of working involves the teaching of cross 


multiplication, but this should present no difficulties to the 

19. Percentage is only a special form of fractions ; it 

is a fraction; it standardises one form of 

division into parts. In calculating in per- 

ivntuge, a quantity is divided into 100 parts, and the unit 

of measurement is l/100th part of the quantity, which by 

convention is written 1 / . 

Frequently the simplest and shortest method of working 
percentage is to reduce at once to a fraction, as in the 
problem : I buy articles for ,30 and sell at a gain of 5 / ; 
lind the selling price. The working will be 

S.P. = C.P. + i of C.P. = l\ of 30 = 31 10s. 
20 20 

The same method of reduction to fractional form applies 

to calculating interest. For example: Find the interest 

on a sum of money lent for a number of years at 5 / . 

The unit or rate of interest is 5/100 of the principal due 

year. Hence 

Interest for one year = of the Principal. 

.-. Interest for a No. of years 

'- of Principal x No. of years ; 

Generalising the rate, this becomes 
Interest for a No. of years 

= of Prin. x No. of years, 

and symbolising 


In compound interest it is most convenient to reduce 
uni of money to a decimal ami the rate to the most 
convenient frartion, while the results need not be worked 
PR. TO. -I' 


out further than three places of decimals, as '001 of a 
pound is, roughly speaking, a farthing. For example: 
Find the compound interest on ,745 12s. 6d. for 5 years 

at 4%: 

I = of P = 7 29-825 lst 

and so on. 

20. In presenting new subject-matter the teaching 
should progress in steps suited to the 

General powers of the learners, and every step should 

Character of f , . 

the Teaching. be made thorough by working mentally a 

number of examples. In introducing new 
ideas and new processes the rate of progress should be 
that by which the pupils can attain the clearest grasp of 
new ideas, and can become familiarised with them before 
proceeding further. Too rapid an advance from one new 
thought to another will only result in confusion. For the 
same reason, the numbers used during this teaching should 
be such as to present no mechanical difficulties. All the 
attention can then be concentrated on grasping the new 
subject-matter. Following the teaching of new rules 
should be mental and blackboard work gradually in- 
creasing in complexity in order to familiarise the pupils 
with applying the rules in many and varied ways. When, 
by this means, they have gained a fair command of the 
new principle, they should advance to quite independent 
work at more difficult examples. These should be as 
varied in their nature as possible. Each example should 
give some fresh food for thought, and the pupils should 
honestly strive to work it for themselves. Independent 
work is essential. Only when an honest, keen endeavour 


has ended in failure, should the teacher or another pupil 
show the way. By this means self-reliance, confidence, 
and power will be trained, qualities very necessary to all 
--iul and effective life. 

In working problems the pupils should be trained to 
grasp the method of solution as a whole, and not piece by 
piece in succession. In blackboard work the invariable 
ruV should be to call on the pupils to state in general 
terms how the whole problem is to be solved. After a 
time, with careful and sympathetic criticism, they will 
become expert in doing this in a very precise and concise 
manner. Such general terms should then be written down 
symbolically as the first statement in the working of the 
sum. The written work of the pupils should be on similar 
liii.-s, though care should be taken that^ in applying sym- 
bolic expressions, they do not merely replace letters by 
figures without reflecting on the relations expressed by the 
fonnulae used. 

In th<> independent written work of the pupils it is 
by no means necessary for all to be working the same 
sum at the same time. Bright pupils should be pro- 
LjivssiiiL: (piiekly, duller pupils will advance more slowly. 
and the former will soon outpace the latter. A text-book 
containing collections of problems, varied and increasing in 
difficulty, should, therefore, be in use. Any sum attempted 
>h<>iild, as a rule, !>< correctly solved before another is 
U^ruii. Only so can the habit of care necessary for habi- 
tual accuracy b> s. -. -nred. At times, however, this may be 
1. and interest added by the pupils <-..nij.cting to find 
who can correctly work the greatest number of examples 
in a in>. The bla<-k board should be judiciously 

used; and this. U-in-j int. r|,ivt-d. i"' 'ins that it should not 
be excessively used. At tin- beginning <>!' a j.ra<-tice lesson 
liiii< ult JM, nits may, with advantage, be explained on the 


board, but during the independent practice the pupils 
should feel that they have to rely on themselves, and only 
in case of real failure should the teacher step in and use 
the blackboard for explanation. In their written work 
they should be trained to do their sums not only neatly 
but quickly, that is, as quickly as is consistent with 
accuracy. The first essential is accuracy, the second 
rapidity. We have already insisted that no calculation 
that can be worked mentally should be worked on 

Rapidity and accuracy can only be secured when the 
pupils have thoroughly memorised all essential tables, and 
can perform quite automatically all necessary mental cal- 
culations. What should be required of the pupils of the 
lower school in this respect has already been made clear. 
The older pupils have similar memorising to do with re- 
spect to their work. The equivalent decimal form for all 
the common fractions, and the fractional form of all 
common percentages, should be known by heart. Opera- 
tions with decimals, fractions, and percentages should be 
made automatic by frequent practice in working mental 
problems of very varied kinds. Such ' drill ' to secure 
the power of rapid, accurate, and automatic mental calcu- 
lation should occupy the first five to fifteen minutes of 
every arithmetic lesson. 

21. By the end of the fifth year the pupils should be quite 
familiar with decimals and fractions, and 
should have a clear grasp of the principles 
Rational Stage, of percentage, ratio, and proportion. The 
sixth and seventh years will then remain 
for a thorough application of these to various kinds of 
problems and to practical work, while, at the same time, 
the power of symbolic treatment should be considerably 


It has been usual in primary schools to confine arithme- 
tic almost entirely to calculation in money 
^racier with a small sprinkling of mensuration. 
Such a course limits considerably the pupil's 
outl<<k on his material world. It brings him merely 
into contact with one aspect of life, the financial and 
commercial. Important as this is, it is not the only rela- 
tion nor tlit> broadest one that he should realise through 
what may be called his mathematical activities. The 
full command over the things comprising our material 
environment can only be gained by our having the power 
to foresee the means to be employed to change them from 
one condition to another more suited to our desires, and 
such change must be based on measurements of various 

A full and broad course in arithmetic, then, which will 
exercise widely the activities by which the pupil obtains 
exact command over things, must include at least the 
measurement of space, of weight, of densities, and of force. 
Ifc'inu' largely practical in character, such a course will 
amuse keener interest in the pupils as having for them a 
lirert U-ariiiL,' on real objtvtivr life. It will, besides, 
inak' clearer aii'l fuller their ideas of measurement ami 
will train habits of physical accuracy and care which will 
be invaluable in the future. 

We have already seen how the pupil ill the lower school 
should be trained in practical measurement 
^v ma ^ m g plans and drauinu: to scale. 
Such exercises receive a new direction when, 
in the upper school, he is taught the continental systems 
f measures. He will now measure in centimetres and in 
limes. Passing from straight length * t.> curved lines 
h0 will consider the relation between the radius and the 
.r.-le, by means of \shich he can 


calculate the circumference of circular objects, as glass 
cylinders, lead piping, and copper wire. Longer distances 
should be dealt with in a neighbouring field or park. A 
pole or rood should be pegged out by means of a sur- 
veyor's chain, whilst at the same time the method of 
securing a straight line will be taught. By measuring 
round the field the pupil can form an idea of a mile in 
terms of the distance round, and this will become more 
real to him if he paces it out and calculates the number of 
paces to a mile. The time it takes to walk and to run round 
the field can then be noted, and the time required to walk 
or run a mile worked from them. 

The consideration of the distance round the field easily 
leads to dealing with the space enclosed, 
an( ^ ^ can rea< lily h shown how distance 
round gives no true indication of area 
unless shape be taken into account. The pupil should 
now go indoors and work out the theory of measuring 
areas, in order that he may come back fully prepared for 
the practical task before him. The areas of rectangles, 
parallelograms, and triangles should not present much 
difficulty, though care must be taken not to fall into the 
error of saying that 'feet' multiplied by 'feet' give 
' square feet.' If a rectangle be divided into square feet 
by a number of lines parallel to the sides, the numl>er 
of feet in one side gives the number of rows, and 
the number of feet in the adjacent side the number of 
squares in a row. Hence 

Area = No. of square feet in one row X No. of rows, 
which is not a multiplying of feet by feet. 

The immediate purpose of the practical work will be to 
find the area of walls, floors, windows, and other objects 
in and around the class-room, until familiarity with the 
triangle will permit the introduction of irregular figures, 


when adjournment to the field will again be found 

A square pole, square chain, and an acre should be 
l>'_r^ed out with a number of flags, so that the pupil can 
see their relative sizes, and he can practise his knowledge 
in jilting by the eye the number of acres and square 
diaius in a field. After this he can set about measuring 
it by setting down base line and perpendiculars. 
Questions of air space in the school will lead to the 
measurement of cubical contents, and as b< t h 
practical work and problems will frequently 
involve cross sections the pupil must work 
out the area of a circle. The graduated cylinder will be 
brought into requisition in the measurement of liquids, and 
tin- graduation of such a measure will furnish a practical 
exercise involving careful manipulation and measurement 
and judicious calculation. The cylinder can then be used 
for nu-asuring the capacity of bottles and the volumes of 
small irr"_rular solids. 

The failure of this method in the case of bodies lighter 
than water leads to the treatment of 
densit y and of to^ 68 that flo at or sink. 
The pupil should work out the various 
ways of finding relative density and apply them in 

al work. 

The use of the balance and the consideration of gravity 
in connection with flouting bodies opens tin- 

wa ^ * ^ u ' ! Iva1 " ien * ^ f r ces in general and 
of gravity in particular. The pendulum. 
. iix'liiH'd plant-, jmllrv, and other mechanical devices 
in general use will provide j.l.Mitv of material for both 
theoretical and j.iati. a l \\,,rk, while the representation 
!<> I iy lin-s will l.-ad to tin- OOOttdmtion t' tin- 


Such a varied course in applied arithmetic during the 
last three years of school life fits the pupil 
to cope with future life, both by the training 
in manipulative skill it gives and by the wider and more 
intelligent command over things it ensures. Neither a 
large amount of apparatus nor a special room is needed. 
Each pupil should possess a good rule divided into centi- 
metres and millimetres on one edge, and into inches and 
tenths on the other, while the reverse side should show 
twelfths and sixteenths. For class work there should be a 
metre-rule, a surveyor's chain, a spring-balance, several 
balances for more careful work, and a set of pulleys. 
Much of the apparatus can be made by the pupils in the 
handicraft room. Each pupil can make himself a set of 
models on which to perform his measurements and, in 
addition, pendulums, levers, inclined planes, and all 
the apparatus for land surveying can be made in the 

22. Geometry is the science of space. It concerns itself 
with " magnitude, its properties, conditions, 

The Universal and appurtenances." Space itself is universal, 

Nature of 

Geometry. au( l space relations enter into all our dealings 

with material things. The movements we 
make are through space, and the adapting of material things 
to suit our needs and purposes is the altering of their shape 
and position by the use of force, which itself can only be 
defined in terms of space. Space, time, and matter are 
the fundamentals of all knowledge of the material world, 
and the science of geometry is the broad highway along 
which every physical science must plod to exactness and 
perfection, while every art from the rude efforts of the 
savage to the most wonderful of engineering feats con- 
sciously or unconsciously makes use of its principles and 


23. Geometry, like every other science, had its begin- 
nings in the efforts of man to fit himself and 
The History of 
the Develop- ^ 8 circumstances more perfectly and exactly 

ment of to his needs. Man subjects the world to his 

will by knowing it. Naturally, practice 
preceded theory. Early man, like the little child, did 
things Ufore he knew the 'how ' and the 'why' of thorn ; 
even before he was fully aware of what he was doing. 
Ho l>ecame conscious of this latter first, and thence came 
knowledge of a body of facts about form and position that 
helped him to make his tools and his hut, to plot out his 
land for cultivation, and to find his way over the plains 
and through the forests. 

In the ancient land of Egypt there were, however, 

problems of practical life that forced the 
Geometry in f r . 

Egypt the knowledge of shape and position into great 

Age of Em- prominence. In this earliest of civilisations, 
some unknown number of centuries before 
the Christian era, the science of geometry was born and 
gained a name which "might carry with it a perpetual 
memory <>t the first and notablest benefit by that science 
to common people showed : which was, when bounds and 
inoivs .!' land ami ground were lost and confounded, as hi 
Ivjypt yearly with tin- overflowing of Nilus, the greatest 
and longest river in the world, . . . upon these and such 
like occasions, some by ignorance, some by negligence, 
some by fraud, and some by violence, did wrongfully limit. 
measure, encroach, or challenge, by pretence of just con- 
tent and measure, those lands and grounds ; and so great 
loss, lis.|uiotinss, murder, and war did full oft ensue, till 
iiM-ivy and man's industry the perfect science of 
lim->. j lanes, and solids, like a divine justiciar, gave unto 
every man his .\\ n. 

Tin- people then I iy this art pleasured, and greatly 


relieved in their land's just measuring; and other 
philosophers writing rules for land-measuring; between 
them both thus confirmed the name of Geometry, that is, 
according to the very etymology of the word, Laiid- 
measurinjj;. ' 

Nothing, however, was known but a body of facts and 
practical rules for realising practical ends. The extent 
of the knowledge of the Egyptians can be judged when 
we are told that its high water mark was reached when 
they discovered that if the sides of a triangle be 3, 4, and 5, 
the greatest angle is a right angle. This fact must have 
been of the utmost use to them in building their temples 
to face the desired point of the heavens and in deter- 
mining the exact position and shape of their fields. A 
rule such as this the practical Egyptian mind accepted as 
a fact. Why the angle was right he knew not, nor, 
probably, did he care. 

From this empiric practical stage, which would have con- 

fined it to the narrowlv utilitarian, geometry 
The Influence 
of the Greeks was rescued by the speculative Greek, who 

the Age of loved knowledge for its own sake apart from 

train. He probed into its facts and rules, and in the 
hands of various masters geometry began to take a more 
scientific shape and form. For a sure foundation the 
Greeks framed abstract ideas of point, line, surface, of 
triangle, square, and circle, from which conclusions were 
reached by exact inferenoe. Constantly new discoveries 
concerning the properties of figures were made, though 
the useful was not neglected, for we read of the height 
and volume of the pyramids being found and the distance 
of ships at sea measured. 

1 Quitted from John Dee, who wrote some years before the time 
of the Armada, by W. B. Fraukhmd in The Story of Ettclid, p. 17. 


Gradually, "from being a, miscellaneous collection of 
sporadic facts," geometry became a compact system of 

uised knowledge, in which from the simplest and most 
frmdamentaJ truths conclusions the most complex and 
a lst ruse were reached by a series of rigorous deductions. 
In such a form its study became for nearly two thousand 

part of the famous Quadrivium the four ways of 
higher education. Finally, in the third century before 
Christ, the immortal Euclid gave the final stroke of genius, 
and presented to the world and to future generations the 
perfect srieiK-e in his Elements of Geometry. 

In tli is form geometry has come down to modern times 
through many vicissitudes. Born on the muddy banks of 
the Nile, it grew to manhood under the care of the 
philosophic Greek ; lost to Western Europe during the 
lark ages of ignorance and barbarism it, with all true 
rulture, was preserved to the world by the science-loving 
Aral's and restored at last to modern thought at the 
Kenuissance, when the pure love of knowledge woke to a 
new and freer lit\. Tin 1 progress of its practical applica- 

- has been no less wonderful, and they are now as 
universal as space itself. Be^innin^ with the surveying 
t land, geometry has extended its sway over the whole 
terrestrial and celestial universe. The humble joiner and 

lianic seek its aid, and by its means the mighty fleets 

;e. world have come into being and plough their way 
in safety over tin- pathless seas. 

J J-. Such, then, is the outline plan of its life history. 
P*'L,'inniii'_: in man's efforts to cope m.>iv ami 

The Value of ,,,,.,. ,. X;l ,.tlv and efTertivelv with his material 

Geometry in 

Lif e- BOnroninent, it iKvame a body ot known 

> and practical rules. Speciilat imi. jr.>- 

IM it- ntnio-t depth the ' linw ' and the 'why' \' it. 

raised it to a perfect science, and utility and culture, with 


extended imagination bring the earth and sky under its 
rule and subdue all to man's will. In this history is 
indicated the heritage of science and art unfolded by a 
knowledge of geometry to the human mind which has 
mastered its principles. By its means we can pass with 
certainty beyond the reign of the senses to the utmost 
bounds of space. By its aid the solar system and the 
earth's surface are brought within human comprehension. 
Without it no science or art can be mastered. Its study 
is truly fundamental. So great is its importance in human 
life and human thought that we might with justice 
inscribe over the portals of our universities the warning 
engraved over the entrance to the Academy of Plato : 
" Let none ignorant of geometry enter here." 

25. The growth of geometry in time is very closely 
paralleled by the growth of geometrical ideas 

Growth of Geo- ' m the human mind, a parallel much closer 

metrical Ideas , . . . 

in the Mind. tnan exists in the case of other bodies of 

knowledge that have suffered great changes 
in their fundamental principles during the progress of 
time. The small child is impelled by instinct and neces- 
sity to master his physical environment, and he actively 
employs all his senses and members to test the things 
about him. By means of this unceasing activity of hands 
and brain he amasses many and varied crude experiences of 
position, direction, and shape that if not expressed in 
words at least find a practical outlet in a more or less 
appropriate action. 

But the child is surrounded by a life of human thought 

and action, permeated by geometrical ideas 
The Influence an( j finding constant expression in speech. 
Environment. Born into this traditional and current life as 

well as into the physical world he begins to 
make it his own through imitation and speech, and the 


crude actions and experiences of his instinctive life gradually 
take on the character and definiteness implied by the terms 
in current use. Thus, partly by watching otjiers and partly 
on his own initiative, he discovers simple properties of solid 
and surface, line, square, and circle, and so acquires a 
body of empiric facts and rules for practical use in his 
childish occupations and in his intercourse with his 

With school life comes organising instruction, and the 
instinctive curiosity and practical activities 
of the child receive a definite direction 
Instruction. through the systematic play of the kinder- 
garten. The exercises with such things as 
cubes and sticks, and the drawing and modelling, give 
{lay to the natural instincts and direct them to the end of 
more definite knowledge, clearer language, and more skilled 
practice. In this way a working notion of the common 
geometrical ideas, a knowledge of the properties of the 
more common figures, and familiarity with the language 
of geometry become a conscious possession of the 

A further impetus to this growth is, as we have seen, pro- 
vided in the first years of the upper school by the making 
of plans and the drawing of objects to scale. From such 
exercises should spring many lessons giving the child 
fiirt her light on the nature of the square and circle, the 
riirht angle and parallel lines, for these and other forms 
will constantly be required in such occupations. Still 
further instruction must be given when drawing to scale 
advances to making plans, elevations, and isometric pro- 
necessary for handicraft in wood in tin- lat<r 
years of school life. But all his knowledge of position 
and shape arising out of such exercises has a practical 
bearing; it springs out of the necessities of his 


measurings and his drawings, and leads back to them 
to make them more exact, intelligible, and easy. Such 
practical interests always loom large in the child's 
intellectual life. 

When, however, the speculative instinct becomes an in- 
fluence in the pupil's development some change should 
take place in the character of the teaching, a change analo- 
gous to that wrought by the Greek mind on the practical 
rules discovered by the Egyptians. The speculative in- 
stinct demands the reason for things ; it substitutes logical 
necessity for practical convenience, and the keynote of 
the teaching will change from empiricism to rationality. 
Working notions and practical rules should now be probed 
to their bottom-most depths to find the why and the where- 
fore of their truth. Conclusions resting on experimental 
measurement an-l intuition will give place to strict logical 
demonstration. Ideas and operations will be analysed to 
their simplest and most elemental forms, and the practical 
conclusions of the earlier stage will be deduced from these 
by a train of strict logical argument. The practical, how- 
ever, will not be superseded, for the pupils' nature is 
not utterly changing, but only developing to a higher, 
intellectual life, where objective interests range over a 
wider field and are subjected to a deeper insight. The 
practical and the speculative now walk hand in hand, 
and as theory advances to its conclusions, these conclu- 
sions will be brought into relation with wider and more 
complex problems of terrestrial and celestial measure- 

Two stages, then, the Empiric and the Rational, will 
mark the progress of the teaching of geometry, not 
rigidly fenced off from each other, but merging the 
one into the other a gradual crystallisation of perfect 


26. The kindergarten sees the early beginnings of the 
empiric stage, and the time of plan and scale 
Factor in the drawing will witness a slight advance on the 
Teaching of s;U ne lines. But not till the end of the fourth 
year of the upper school will there be any 
really organised teaching of geometrical truths. The smat- 
terings of early ideas should then be arranged and defined 
and receive considerable amplification by a definite course 
in constructive geometry. The pupils will thus become 
familiarised with most of the geometrical figures, terms, 
operations, and processes, and towards the end of the fifth 
year will be ready to take the step into the realm of 

The dominant note of the empiric teaching will be its 
practical nature. Each main line of thought 
should spring out of some real problem of 
measurement or construction, and be pursued 
to such conclusions as will throw a more intelligent light 
on constructions and measurements of a wider nature. 
The most important principles of geometry will be con- 
1 in order to bind together groups of practical ideas 
which can 1*? inferred from them. Such principles, how- 
ever, will not be demonstrated to reason, but accepted on 
tli.- test of measurement, or on such intuitions as symmetry 
and equality, which are ingrained in the pupils' habits of 
thought and action by the personal experience of their 
whole lives. Evidence of this kind will not be examined 
as to its logical character, but will l*> ao-epied as sufficient 
for tin- immature intelligence of pupils of this age. 

Thus, in r.,mp;inn-_r lines and angles to discover the 

pp.jMTt Ms iif various figures tin- pupils will make use of 

mle and compass, or. in many cases, the comparison 

can be more conveniently carried out by means of figures 

ut in paper. Folding line on line, and angle on angle. 


will then prove to the eye, although not to the reason, 
equality or inequality, and such measurement, backed by 
the intuition that it must be so in the nature of things, 
will be sufficiently convincing to pupils at this stage. 
There is no settled and incontestable way of beginning. 
A starting-point can be made of any one of 
a number of practical questions, each of 
which will by proper guidance lead to the 
same set of geometrical principles, and from these practical 
rules for construction can be deduced. The teacher is 
advised to draw up his own course and to modify it at will 
when the practical measurements we have already spoken 
of in the teaching of arithmetic open out opportunities for 
new developments. We will, therefore, content ourselves 
with sketching a few of the lines of thought the teacher 
might with advantage pursue. 

A pair of compasses used for marking off distances will 
form a suitable beginning and will lead 
First Illustra- directly to the circle, one of the most impor- 
Circle. tant figures in practical geometry. The mere 

drawing of the circle with the compasses 
will demonstrate the fact of the radii being equal, and the 
use of the circle in measuring can easily be shown by 
asking the pupils to find three points three inches from 
each other, and a point two inches from each of two given 
points. Incidentally it can be noted that these illustrate 
the construction of equilateral and isosceles triangles. 

Circles, however, are used not only in measuring lines, 
but also in dealing with angles, and this involves the 
principle that equal arcs of equal circles are opposite equal 
angles at the centre. The pupils can easily become con- 
vinced of this principle by superposing two equal circles 
and folding them to form two equal angles at the centres. 
From tliis experiment they can be led to understand that 


the arc of a circle measures the angle at the centre, and 
that an angle may be viewed as the rotation of a line about 
one of its ends. These ideas should now be made familiar 
bv nuuiv practical exercises involving the construction of 

s and giving an opportunity of ascertaining experi- 
mentally that the sum of the interior angles of a triangle 
equals two right angles. 

The measurement of angles suggests at once the con- 
sideration of a standard or unit angle. The right angle 
will be familiar to pupils of this age as a practical notion, 
but their conception of it needs defining and widening. 

lines crossing each other at a point so as to make 
all the angles at equal will broaden the notion of the 
pupils as to the nature of a right angle, and this can 
further be illustrated by reference to the mariners' com- 
pass. They should grasp quite clearly that a complete 
turn round back to one's original direction is a turn through 
four ritrht angles, and that to turn round so as exactly 
to reverse one's direction is a turn through two right angles, 
no matter what peregrinations or wanderings have been 
performed during the process. This performance, either 
in imagination or in reality, can now take place round the 
circumference of a circle and round the sides of a triangle, 
thus demonstrating in the first case that the circumference 
measures four right angles, and in the second that the 
exterior angles of a triangle are together equal to 
four right angles. 

in this latter conclusion it can easily be deduced that 

the sum of tin- three in tenor angles of a triangle is equal to 

two ri_rh In a more direct manner this important 

principle could he verified I y a pupil walking round the 

sides of a triangle and turning through the interior angles 

accession, when he would arrive at his starling point 

facing in a direction the reverse of t '. . having 

TO. 30 


thus rotated through two right angles. The subdivision of 
a right angle into degrees could then be taken, with its 
application to the plotting out of the earth's surface by 
lines of latitude and longitude. The manner in which this 
line of thought can be developed has now, perhaps, been 
indicated sufficiently without our carrying it further into the 
consideration of the relation of radius to circumference, 
the construction and properties of the hexagon, equilateral 
triangles and angles of 60 and 30. 

A second profitable line of thought is one bringing in the 
Second nius- P r P ert i es f tne isosceles triangle another 
tration the important figure in both practical and 
Isosceles Tri- theoretical geometry. 

The construction of a rectilinear kite might 
form a suitable starting-point. In form the object consists 
of two isosceles triangles on the same base and on opposite 
sides of it, and the cross pieces joining opposite angles illus- 
trate many important principles required in bisecting lines 
and in constructing lines at right angles to each other. A 
paper figure A BCD cut so as to represent two such isosceles 
triangles can be used to prove by measurement the truth of 
these principles. The paper should be folded carefully so 
that the point C falls exactly on the point A and then 
slowly smoothed down so that the crease formed exactly 
joins the points B and D. It will now be obvious that the 
two halves exactly coincide, that the crease BD bisects AC 
at right angles, and also divides the vertical angles ABC 
and ADC into equal parts. It can further be shown by 
folding that any point on BD is equidistant from the ends 
of the base AC. 

From these facts the pupils can by simple and easy 
deductions work out for themselves the method of bisect- 
ing a line or an angle, of drawing a line at right angles to 
another either from a point within or without it, of finding 


the centre of a circle, of describing a circle about a triangle, 
and of constructing figures in the production of which the 
isosceles triangle is an important factor. The properties 
of a square, too, can be discovered by conceiving it as two 
equal right-angled isosceles triangles on opposite sides of 
tin- same base. 

Another valuable series of problems concerning the 
determination of triangles, right angles, ami 
Third lines arises out of land surveying. It soon 

th^ TrTanele" ^ >ecomes evident in measuring irregular areas 
that the triangle is the elementary figure to 
work with, complex figures being conceived as made up of 
a number of triangles, and the practical question, therefore, 
ves itself into finding the position and size of these 
triangles. The line of thought thus proceeds to the deter- 
mination of a triangle. Starting with one side, the pupils 
by experimental testing can discover that only two other 
measurements are necessary to complete the figure, these 
being either the two adjacent angles or the two si<h-.-. 
With these, only one triangle can be made. By starting at 
one corner instead of a side it can further be shown that 
two sides and the angle included by them will also deter- 
mine a triangle. 

In this experimental manner the pupils will arrive at the 
conclusions demonstrated in Euclid I. 4, I. 8, and I. 26. 
These principles can then be applied to considering j tinted 
rods with respect to their rigidity. Rods jointed so as to 
form a triaii-l.-. or a figure composed of triangles, are 
theoretically riu r il, and the pupils by comparing these with 
rods jointed to form a quadrilateral can suggest means 
for giving these latter a similar quality. This principle 
of n_ri'lit\ .-an now be used to explain the structure of 
beams suj-i-.r n.1 oi' cross-bars I'.-r holding a 



The measurement of lines involves the operation of sight- 
ing, from which the fact that two points determine a 
straight line can be inferred and expressed in the defini- 
tion that a straight line lies evenly between its extremities, 
or that it is the shortest distance between two points. 

The number of such trains of thought is very large, and 
they can all arise out of the practical operations involved 
in woodwork, the drawing of plans, outlines, and isometric 
vi-\vs to scale, and the surveying of field or playground. 
Here will be much more than sufficient to keep the pupils 
fully employed in the time given to geometry during the 
last three years of school life. 

27. The pupils' knowledge of geometry is, then, con- 
stautly growing in extent, but it should also 
Factor in the advance towards more organised rationality, 
Teaching of an( j somewhere about the beginning of the 
sixth year a definite step can be made in this 
direction. It will be remembered that in the empiric ^ 
tin 1 aim of the teacher was to convince the pupils of the 
truth of certain main principles, by measuring and com- 
paring supported by an appeal to intuition. As the pupils' 
intelligence develops and their familiarity with the subject- 
matter increases, and as the speculative instinct becomes 
more prominent in their lives, this aim will change. Then, 
as we have seen, rigid demonstration must take the place 
of measurement and intuition. 

The first step towards this is for the pupils to grasp the 
difference between conclusions based on 
measurement and those based on demon- 
strated proof. Unless this be done, they 
never realise fully and clearly why the test of the eyes 
is not as good as the test of reason. The nature of this 
new and perfect standard of truth should be unfolded 
to them and compared with the weaknesses of the old. 


Though this is their first examination of the nature of 
proof it is not their first acquaintance with inference ; con- 
dusions have been inferred from principles, although those 
principles themselves have not been rigidly proved. In such 
i he tea flier will have plenty of examples, both of 
conclusions founded on proof and of conclusions based on 
measurement, to illustrate his teaching. A number of such 
cases should be critically examined and compared, and the 
pupils should ask in each case : How do I know this to be 
true? They will discover that measurements are only ap- 
proximate and only apply to instances measured ; hence on 
tli.' u r n mud of a measurement it can never be truly affirmed : 
All these are so and so. The final weakness of measure- 
ment shows itself when the question is asked: Even if 
this is so and so, or even if all these are so and so, why are 
they so and so ? In asking such a question the pupils will 
discover that it cannot be answered by measurement. 

If now a proof be examined in a similar manner, the 
conclusion will be found to rest on other known facts ; it 
will be seen to be true of necessity it must be so and 
furthermore that it is not only true of this case, but of all 
such cases. The note, then, that must dominate the new 
^ical necessity. The pupils must ^rasp that 
th.-v are not now merely to be convinced that a thing is so 
and so, they must show that by the nature of things it /////>/ 
be so. A great logical difference exists between the mental 
at t it udes of being convinced and of being able to show valid 
.-vid'-nr,. lor a belief, yet subjectively the former is often 
ken for tin- latt.-r. Pupils of twelve years of age are 
<|uit onvinced when they see one trial !\ raper- 

posed on another that the nut; equals the nthcr. and to 
proceed to tl .1 proof seems to them a work of 

supererogation. Moreover, as they grow older t hey become 
confirmed in habits of drawing conclusions f roi n i n > 1 1 II i . i 1 1 1 


data, unless their training is of such a character as to form 
more logical habits. It is one of the aims of teaching 
geometry to give such a training, and if preliminary analy- 
sis of proof and measurement brings home to the pupils 
the force of ' must,' and if when they seem inclined to be 
content with the evidence of the senses they are asked for 
proof of logical necessity, the new test of validity will take 
root in their minds, and habits of critical judgment will 
Infill to be formed. 

Most text-books of geometry begin with a list of defini- 
tions, postulates, and axioms, followed by the problems and 
theorems founded on them. For expounding the final 
perfected form of a science this order is excellent, but it 
is not the order in which knowledge develops either in the 
race or in the individual. 

It is clear from the historical sketch outlined above 

that strict definition only became possible 
The Definitions. 

after a long acquaintance with things, and 

arose only when accuracy in thought demanded a clear 
statement of meaning. Such also is the order of growth 
in the human mind. Logical definitions, then, should not 
be the first approach to the study of geometry. The pupils 
should have become familiar with the meaning of words by 
becoming familiar with the things they represent before the 
statement of meaning in its final perfection is demanded. 
Such familiarisation is secured by the practical work of 
the empiric and constructive stage. But when strict- 
proof is demanded it must be based on definite meaning, 
and so the inferences in the rational stage of the teaching 
must follow from a clear statement of exact thought. To 
begin with the whole list of Euclid's definitions would, 
however, be an absurd proceeding. The consideration of 
isosceles triangles does not require definition of parallels, 
and that definition can wait until necessity demands it. 


i definition should be considered when its use becomes 

The first to be taken on the pupils entering this stage of 
geometry are the exact meanings of the terms point, line, 
and surface. These ideas should result from an analysis by 
the pupils of their observations of the things around them. 
The idea of boundary, of separation of thing from thing 
should l>e clearly grasped. All material things occupy 
space, and each thing is separate from every other. Air is 
separate from water, yet they touch each other and the one 
1 1 1 1 1 1 s t he other. The meeting place is a surface. Where 
two surfaces intersect is a line, and if an enclosed space be 
thought of in a surface we can think of a space within 
touching a space without, yet separated from it by a line. 
Similarly two lines intersect in a point, and any part of a 
line is separated from the remainder by points. The plan 
of representing point, line, and surface by means of paper, 
pencil, and chalk should then be criticised by the pupils and 
the adequacy or inadequacy of such means determined. 
As an illustration of the weakness of measurement the 
pupils should examine the difference between the definitions 
of such figures as isosceles triangles and square and these 
figures when drawn. It will be seen that all constructions 
are only approximations to a mathematical ideal, which is 
never fully realised. 

.lust as the pupils should grasp the force of valid proof, 
M-y should, be taught to understand the nature of a 
definition. In this way they will l>ecome conscious of a 
standard of clearness, precision, and conciseness in thought 
and laii-ju:iu r e. and from this point strict accuracy in 
expression should !* demanded from them and nothing 
leu should IK- ;irc'|.t.'d. Pupils at first are not inclined 
to bother over the uoetiei of l,mu r ua^-. They will say a 
triangle is a plane figure hiivin- three sides and three 


angles, without any sense of having transgressed the rules 
of definition, and it is only by their knowing something of 
these rules that some definite standard by which to criticise 
their expressions can be formed in their minds. 

By examining the various properties of such a figure as a 
triangle they should be led to grasp that the objects of a class 
have many common properties, some of which are essential 
an<l some derived. To state the former is to imply the 
latter ; hence the statement of the latter is redundant in 
the definition. Furthermore, to define a word is to state 
the essential properties in such a way as to limit that 
word to just one class of objects. By knowing this 
principle the pupils can appreciate some of the ambiguities 
that arise from statements of meaning of too loose and 
general a character. Though this task of working out the 
nature of a definition is fittingly begun by examining the 
meanings in geometry, where the relations involved can be 
most easily analysed, yet the knowledge once gained will 
prove an excellent weapon in exercises in literature and 
composition, when the meaning of words met with or used 
is under discussion. The pupils will in that way not only 
have a standard of exact and precise thought, but will be 
gaining the infinitely more valuable power of being critical 
in the use of words and in the interpretation of meaning. 

Because the definition of a word states the properties 
every individual in a class must possess, and wanting any 
of which an object would be denied the class name, a 
definition is convertible. "An equilateral triangle has 
three equal sides " can also be expressed as " a triangle 
having three equal sides is equilateral," and both state- 
ments are implied in " None but an equilateral triangle has 
three equal sides." This convertibility of a statement does 
not apply to reasoned conclusions, and it is important that 
the pupil should grasp the difference in this respect 


between definitions and such conclusions. In Euclid I. 5 
an isosceles triangle is proved to have its base angles 
e<jual. In it it does not follow from this that equality of 
base angles is not also a property of other triangles. This 
latter idea has to be tested, and is examined in I. 6, which 
completes the proof of "None but isosceles triangles have 
their l>ase angles equal." 

1 people, whether young or old, frequently and easily 
fall into the fallacy of extruding a statement to include its 
erse, and using the one or the other indiscriminately 
in an argument, greatly to their own satisfaction and to 
tin- discomfort of their opponent, who very probably is not 
in a condition of mental enlightenment to detect the flaw. 
Here again geometry can be made, by a wise teacher, an 
aid to exact thinking. The pupils should carefully examine 
the exact limitations of every conclusion at which they 
arrive, and explicitly state its converse, thus showing the 
direction in which thought must progress before a perfect 
convertible law can be proved. 

Just as a definition is the outcome of a gradual growth, 
so an axiom is the final stage in the evolut ion 
of proof. Men proved conclusions before 
they knew axioms, though they used them without IM-IM-- 
so doing. Indeed they made use of axioms 
in every action of their daily lives, and in this unconscious 
use lies the difficulty. Axioms are so much apart of our 
unconscious selves, so much woven into the wel> of halntual 
thought and action, that they elude analysis and cannot 
easily !* made clear and distinct to consciousness. Man 
arrived at them l.y examining in the full light of his con- 
sciousness every step in his arguments to discover tin- 
nature of tli. e he had employed. He thus found 
that assumptions had been made, assumptions so simple 
he ci.ul.l find nothing simpler, and \vhi.-l 


quently, he could not prove by reference to anything else. 
He could not, however, reject such assumptions, for they 
were the basis of his whole fabric, which without them 
would crumble to the ground. 

Such is their history and such should be their growth in 
the minds of the pupils. Axioms should not be taught be- 
fore the proofs, but should be analysed out of the proofs 
after the assumptions have been made. When they are 
taught before the proofs the pupils rarely give them their 
proper place in the structure of geometric knowledge. 
When thus taught they seem so obvious that the pupil 
wonders why he has been called on to learn things so 
ridiculously easy, and therefore treats them with contempt 
because he does not fully understand their place in the 
science. To appreciate that place to the full, to grasp the 
axioms as the fundamental basis cf proof, the pupils must 
iva.-h thrni l>v an analysis of that proof. 

In order to illustrate the teaching of axioms we will con- 

_, , ,. . sider the teaching of one of the proofs and 

Illustration of . _. 

the Teaching indicate the analysis which should follow. It 

of Axioms, w in \)& interesting, perhaps, to take the case 
of Euclid I. 4, which the pupils should ap- 
proach immediately after they have examined the nature of 
proof. This theorem, as we have already seen, arises out 
of the practical problem of drawing one triangle exactly 
like another. The teacher draws a triangle ABC on the 
blackboard and allows the pupils by starting at a given point 
E as apex to discover experimentally what must be known 
about ABC before they can draw a triangle DEF exactly 
similar in shape and size. It requires little practical in 
sight for them to realise that only the lengths of BA and 
BC, together with the size of the angle ABC, need be 
known. Making ED and EF equal to BA and BC, and 
the angle DEF equal to the angle ABC, the teacher can 


complete the triangle without the need of am further 

When the ]nipils are asked to say how they can prove 
that the two triangles are equal, their replies will probably 
indicate that they still rely on measurement. In that case 
they should be reminded that mere measurement will not 
satisfy, that what is required of them is to prove that the 
triangles by their very nature must of necessity be equal. 
This, thru. Incomes the definite aim of the pupils, and the 
t -a< -1 H T -an proceed to the proof, substituting for convenience 
two rarlloanl triangles for those on the blackboard, 

The pupils will have no difficulty in proposing super- 
position as a test of equality. It is a method they con- 
tinually use in daily life. To express the precise 
mode of superposition, however, is more difficult. The 
teacher can direct them to examine how they begin to 
superpose and how they progress with it so as to secure exact 
eoineidence. The operation being thus analysed, expression 
should easily follow. The triangles will now be coincident 
an<l the pupils seeing this will think the whole matter 

Here again the teacher must protest against their self- 
satisfaction ami remind them that seeing is not proving 
why the triangles from their very nature must be equal. 

Then will follow the by no means difficult steps of prov- 
ing A must eojneide with D, BC must fall along J^l^and C 
must e..inei.le with /'. ami tiie pupils will readily suggest 1 he 
reasons for their COncluiiona, They will then in all proba- 
bility immediately pass on to state lhat .1 ( ' coincides with 
/'/'. aii-1 that, as all the parts of the triangles roineide. 
the trian^-s are proved e.jual. With this proof they 
will I"- unite sat i-lied. 'I'liey understand it ami have in- 
.->t-.l. \\ith a eeriain amount of guiilaiiee. all t he 
Steps, thoirjh |n-"l>alil\ .it this >1ag- the\ <lo not appiv--iate 


fully why so long a time has been spent over a thing that 
can be seen straight away. Even this they partly grasp 
and will in time do so more fully as, through familiarising 
practice, the nature of proof unfolds itself more clearly 
under their gaze. 

The teacher however should be far from satisfied. The 
most important part of the work remains to be done. The 
proof has to be tested to see that every link in the chain of 
evidence is sound, and the teacher must so guide the pupils 
in tliis examination that the assumptions which they have 
made, and of which as yet they are not aware, will be 
Brought to li^-lit. Where the conclusion rests on obvious 
data its soundness will be evident. The first difficulty will 
come when the pupils are asked the question: If A coin- 
cides with D and C with F how do you know that AE 
must of necessity fall on and coincide with DF? Every 
attempt of the pupils to solve this will come back to the 
t'a t that it could not fall anywhere else. They can under- 
stand that if it did fall anywhere else, so as to enclose a 
space, one or both lines would have to be bent, and ran 
now state that two straight lines cannot enclose a space. 
The teacher should then ask how they l^now that ; can they 
prove it ? Vainly the pupils will endeavour to give some 
evidence for the statement. Every attempted solution 
simply assumes the point they have to prove, and they 
should receive a very practical lesson in having the fallacy 
of ' bogging the question ' exposed. 

The teacher can now seize his opportunity to dilate on 
the incompleteness of the proof, on there being a weakness 
in the chain of evidence, until the pupils thoroughly realise 
that the validity of the whole structure rests on this simple 
and unexplainable link. The importance of this missing 
step will now loom large in their imagination, and the 
simplicity of the statement and their utter incapacity to 


it will provoke great astonishment. At the proper 
moment tho teacher should tell thorn that he too cannot 
prove it, and that up to the present no one has yet suc- 
ceeded, as it is involved in the very meaning of ' straight 
lino ' ; hence it must be assumed as true before we can 
od to accept a single proof. 

In a similar manner all the axioms one by one should be 
discovered in the proofs gone through and should then be 
tul.ulated by the pupils for future reference. When so 
tauirht the real nature of these truths is apprehended. 
Thoy are grasped as the foundation stone of every 
proof, and this because the emphasis has been placed, not 
on their ut tor obviousness, but on the position they hold in 
tho \vh>le argument. 

Moreover, by approaching the axioms in this way, the 
pupils will receive a most valuable lesson in being critical 
of their own thought. They will realise that their thought 
has weaknesses previously unsuspected, and if such exer- 
cises be frequent a critical power will be formed that will 
t-iid to guard them from the danger of jumping too hastily 

The above example of a piece of teaching also illus- 
trates the way in whit -h tho pupils should 
Pro ositions ^ encoura ged to work through all tho 
proofs. As they develop in power and ex- 
perience, less and less guidance, surest ion, and critical 
help will be required, until a time arrives when they can do 
without help altogether. This can, indeed, be attempted 
from the first in the loss complex proofs, and in all cases as 
little suggestion as possible should be given by the teacher. 
Teaching of this kind is undoubtedly slow at first, but 
gradually, as real power is acquired and seli'-confidencr and 
initiative an- -.rained. 1 1n- \\ork \\ill j as rapidly as 

the teacher can desire. 


The number of propositions that can be gone through in 
the primary school is not large, and a selection will have to 
be made. These should deal with the most important pro- 
perties of triangles, parallelograms, and circles. By this is 
not meant that the whole of Books I. and III. of Euclid's 
Elements should be laid under contribution. Only pro- 
positions of really fundamental interest and importance 
will be included in the course. 

The theorems proved should be used to throw a more 
rational light on the geometrical ideas, rules, and construc- 
tions gained in the previous empiric work. These will now 
be proved to be applications of such general theorems. 

The chief kinds of proof, such as superposition and 
indirect proof, should be examined. We have already 
observed that the former is a method of common every -day 
life, and this is also true of the latter. The pupils will 
appreciate this if they examine a simple illustration such 
as the following : If I know I have a certain key in one of 
two pockets and I discover it is not in one, then it must 1 >< 
in the other. From this they can state the general casr : 
If A is either B or C and is not B, then it must be C : 
hence, if two things are proved equal, then they are not 
unequal, and if proved not unequal, then they are 

In memorising the conclusions arrived at the propositions 
should be grouped according to general similarities. Thus 
Euclid I. 5, I. 6, I. 18, and I. 19 can be summarised thus : 

If in a triangle ABC 

> A > A 

AB be - BC, then BOA = BAG, 

and the converses of these also are true. 

Similarly I. 4, I. 8, I. 24, and I. 25 can be systematised 
as follows : 


If ABC and DEF be two triangles having AB and CB 
iv>j> viively equal to DE and EF, 

A < A < 

when ABC = DEF, then AC = DF, 

and the converses also are tme. 

28. We have not attempted to plan out any specific course 
for the teacher, for he should be quite free 

tae 8 Te P achii to ada P* both the P ractical and theoretical 
geometry he teaches to the life in the district 
in which the school is situated. It has simply been our 
endeavour to lay down the general principles which any 
course should embody if it is to be a real educative instru- 
ment for giving the mind and body an effective command 
over the physical environment, by means of clear thought, 
precise speech, and exact skill in measurement. In doing 
tliis we have purposely laid stress on the analysis of 
thought, which is an essential feature of the teaching of 
rational geometry if the pupils are really to understand it 
and esteem it of value. We do not, however, wish to iiiini- 
11 iis- the importance of practical work, for throughout we 
have been governed by the idea that mind and body make 
up one organic whole, the body being the instrument through 
whi.-h the mind is brought to know the external world, and 
the power l.y which it executes its purposes in that world. 
Eyes and hands are the instruments of learning, and through 
eyes and hands the knowledge that results finds its realisa- 
tiim. Uut they are only the instruments. It is the mind 
that like a ma^-ian's wand turns things of clay into 
living ami spiritual essence. To live this higher intellectual 
life in real search for truth, probing with keen judgment 
and calm resolution into one's opinions, is ind.M-d an ideal 
that will not be reached in boyhood, l.ut is nevert helew a 
goal towards which the youthful face should be turned. 



The following books are recommended to the teacher : 

On the Teaching of Mathematics : 

Smith : The Teaching of Elementary (The Macmillan 

Mathematics 4/6 Co.). 

Young : The Teaching of Mathe- - 
matics in the Higher Schools of 
Prussia ... ... ... ... 2/6 (Longmans). 

McLellan and Dewey : The Psy- 
chology of Number 6/- (PI Arnold). 

Ilianford : A Study of Mathe- 
matics and Mathematical Kdu- (Oxford Univ. 
cation ... (/// >n) Press). 

Lodge: Easy Mathematics 4/6 (Macmillan). 

On /he History of Matli> nuiti--*: 

Cajori : A History of Elementary (The Macmillan 

Mathematics 6/6 Co.). 

Frnnklaml : Tin- St..i y <>! Kurlid ... I/- (Newnes). 
Cunnington : The Story of Arith- 
metic ... 3/6 (Sonnenschein). 

On (If Stil<ju-(-M<ttf'r of Matin Hint. 

(,'hrystal : Introduction to Algebra 
(Chaps. 1-6) 

Workman: The Tutorial Arith- 

French and Osborne : Graphs . . . 

Cracknell : Elementary Practical 

Consterdiue and Andrews : Practical 

Consterdine and Barnes : Practical 

Rice and Clifford : A Heuristic 
Arithmetic ... 

Godfrey and Siddons : Elementary 

Hamilton and Kettle : A First 
Geometry Book 

5f- (A. and C. Black). 

4/6 (Clive). 

-/6 (Clive). 

3/6 (Longmans). 

2/6 (Murray). 

2/6 (Murray). 

2/6 (Marshall). 

(Cambridge Univ. 

3/6 Press). 

21- (E. Arnold). 



Workman and Cracknell : Geo- 
metry, Theoretical and Practical 
(Parti.) 2/6 (Olive). 

Neabitt : Inductive Geometry ... 1/6 (Sonnenschein). 

Committee appointed by the Asso- 
ciation for the Improvement of 
Geometry : The Elements of Plane 
Geometry 4/6 (Sonnenschein). 

Fletcher: Geometry 1/6 (E.Arnold). 

Wbrthingtoo : A First Course of 
Physical Laboratory Practice ... 4/6 (Longmans). 

PR. TO. 




1. AMONG the relations with the material world into 
which every individual must enter that of 

Form as a spatial form is one of the most universal. 
Mode of Ex- -.5 ., . * i i i 

pressing Ideas. Everything we can see or feel has such iorm, 

and usually that form can be more or less 
modified by man's exertions when he wills such modifi- 
cation as a mode of adapting his material environment 
more perfectly to his requirements. Thus, the craftsman 
impresses on the material in which he works a form 
different from that it had before, and there is produced 
an object more or less perfectly embodying a human 
idea, and, as a consequence, more or less perfectly fitted 
to serve some human end. The end may be entirely 
one of use, as when a savage constructs a rude hut 
to shelter liim from the weather. On the other hand, 
it may be essentially one of pleasure, as when an artist 
produces a beautiful picture or statue, whose reason for 
existence is that it gratifies the taste. Or it may combine 
both the useful and the pleasurable, as in a beautiful piece 
of architecture. 

Whenever a man wishes to convey his ideas to another 
mind through the medium of sight or touch he does so 
by expressing them in some spatial form. For example, 
printing and writing are merely the impressing of certain 
conventional forms on suitable material. These conven- 
tional forms represent words, and the words thus suggested 
to the mind bring with them ideas of their meaning. 



Now if the visible form of an absent object is described 
in words, it is evident that a very complex mental process 
has to be gone through before the hearer or reader forms a 
mental picture of that form, and that this process is at all 
points liablr to error. But if, on the other hand, a direct 
representation of that form be given by drawing it or 
by moulding it in some plastic material, the interpreta- 
tion is much easier and less liable to error. Hence, the 
expression of spatial form is most perfect when the form 
itself is reproduced. 

Still more emphatically is this true when the form in 
question is ideal ; that is, when it originates in the thought 
of some individual and has no existence in the material and 
visible world. How can a sculptor express his ideas except 
1 . v making statues, or a painter without painting pictures ? 
Obviously no words would ever serve to convey fully the 
artistic idea from the mind of the artist to the minds of other 
people. Without the artist's power to embody his ideas 
in visible and tangible form the world would have been 
infinitely the poorer. Indeed, we cannot imagine a world 
in wliich man was devoid of all power of shaping things to 
his own needs. One aspect of the advance in civilisation, 
indeed, is the continual development of this power and its 
\vitli-r and wider application. 

2. We have emphasised this human control over form, 
and tin- important part which modification 

ic Apprehen- ,,f f orm plays in human activity, because 
unl - <!<, irl\ grasped the teaching <>t 

form will not be based on tin- ri-ht principles. For the 
most obvious thing alx>ut I'.mn is that it can he seen, an. 1 
t'r-.m this arises a tendency to try to teach form mainly 
through the sight. 

Even without iit^i'in- into a psychological analysis of 
lation letween sight on the one hand and touch and 


movement on the other, a brief consideration of the fact 
that the visible form changes with every alteration of the 
spatial relation between the object and the eye of the 
observer is sufficient to prove that the typical form we 
derive from a series of visual impressions of an object is an 
abstraction. It is at most the form in one definite and 
particular position relative to the eye, and it is generally 
not even that. Indeed it can never be that in the case of 
a solid object, for we can never place object and eye in 
such relative positions that we can see all round it. We 
think of an orange, for example, as approximately spherical, 
but we never see more than half the globular form at once. 
But if we take the orange in our hands, and feel its shape, 
we get a much truer, because a more direct and complete, 
impression of its form than any amount of looking can give 
us. In the same way we attain a clearer and more correct 
estimation of the distance of place from place by walking 
from one to the other than by merely looking at the inter- 
vening country. 

If, now, we take a body too large to hold in the hands, 
as, for instance, a building, we still find that impressions 
of form are given through movement as well as through 
si^lit. In looking at one side of a building we do not 
simply look, but we move the eye from point to point, 
following its lines. Often, indeed, we cannot see more 
than a part of the side we are examining at any one 
moment, and our total impression of the whole is a 
combination of many partial impressions made possible 
because they were obtained by certain series of movements 
of the eye which we have learnt to interpret as easily as we 
interpret the direct impressions of sight. But even this 
combination only gives us the impression of one side, or of 
a certain combination of two sides, in which we see each 
distorted from what we call the true shape. In order to get 


similar impressions of the other sides we must walk round 
the building, and our apprehension of its plan is derived 
from a synthesis of the amount of leg movement required 
in passing along each face with the amount of eye move- 
ment in scanning each face*from end to end. 

We see, then, that clear impressions of form are only 
obtained when touch or movement is combined with sight. 
Do such impressions constitute a knowledge of f orm ? We 
miu'lit as well ask whether the understanding of spoken or 
written language constitutes a knowledge of speech. Many 
people can read French or German with very fair facility 
who cannot express themselves in the language. Can such 
persons be said to know French or German ? It may be 
said they have a one-sided knowledge, for they can receive 
ideas t hr< >ugh the medium of the language though they have 
nt , jKjwer of using it to express their own ideas. But even 
thi> states the case too favourably, for expression and im- 
pression react upon each other and each helps to perfect 
the other, so that where there is no power of expression t he 
power of impression itself is maimed and crippled. 

Let us apply this to the knowledge of form, which is, as 
we have seen, analogous to speech as a mode of human 
expression. The young child himself shows us that to learn 
form is essentially an active process. Watch him represent 
liis impressions in drawings, which examination shows to 
be essentially schematic expressions of his knowle<l^e of the 
character] Me features of the objects represented. 

When a ehil.l <lraws a human face in profile and \.i 
inserts two eyes, it is not because he is attempt ing to draw 
what he has seen or because he thinks a man has two eyes 
on one side of his face, but because lie instinctively rein-Is 
against the> of visual impressions. anl wants to 
!1 that his various visual impressions 
have taught him. Of eourse. wodonot mean that thechiM 


consciously goes through such a train of thought : we are ana- 
lysing what goes on in his mind unconsciously to himself. 

Watch him again when he examines a new toy ; how 
he turns it about and looks at it from every point of view, 
and handles it in every way. But far from stopping there, 
if he can possibly pull it to pieces he will do so, and this 
not because he is a "troublesome, destructive little 
nuisance," as mother or nurse is apt to think, but be- 
cause of his innate tendency to explore the shapes and 
makes of things by every means in his power. 

It should be noted that this impulse to find out how 
things are made is an impulse to discover the form in 
which their parts are related to each other. We must go 
further. The normal child, if not checked, does not simply 
pull an object to pieces : he proceeds to reconstruct it, 
ritlirr in the original form, or in a new one. One of t In- 
most valuable features in Froebel's Kindergarten Gifts is 
the ease with which new forms can be constructed with 
them, just as one of their most serious defects is the re- 
striction of the forms to geometrical figures. 

The child's spontaneous modes of acting, then, show that 
he has an innate tendency to seek knowledge of form and 
to utilise his knowledge in the production of form. In 
this he reflects a long line of heredity. Mankind has been 
engaged in essentially the same processes from the very 
beginning, and, as we have said, without them mankind 
itself is inconceivable. 

3. The child's life, then, will necessarily lead him to some 
apprehension of form and some power of pro- 
Need for ducing form. If it did not, education in this 
in ^Foraf. direction would be impossible, for education 
can only train existing powers and direct 
existing modes of activity. In form, as in language, such 
systematic training is necessary if the child is ever to 


develop into the adult he has it in him to become ; in other 
words, if he is to be as useful in the world as he has the 
capacity to be. And such training to be effective must take 
hold of all the modes of activity by which form enters into 
human life. The end in view is that the pupil should 
attain a true knowledge of form, and really to know form 
is to be able to represent form in appropriate material, and 
that not by mere copying, but independently of everything 
except the idea of form in the mind. As well might we 
say that a person knows a language when he has no power 
of expressing his thoughts in that language as that he 
knows form when he can merely copy form. 

4. So far we have spoken simply of form. But form is 

by itself a mere abstraction which cannot 
Qualities exist alone, but must always be manifested 

from Form. * n some material and marked by some colour. 

The colour we appreciate by sight, the tex- 
ture of the material is made obvious by touch and pressure, 
but the real nature of the material can only be known when 
it is actually manipulated with the view of changing its form. 
Thus it IKVOIUCS plain that a true teaching of form is a 
t>a-hinu r it in its actual nature as the form of some ]>ar- 
tinilar kind of material with some particular colour. This 
leads us back to the point we reached before, and streng- 
thens the conclusion we there drew, that form can only be 
taught effectively when it is taught constructively, and 
when in teaching, as in life, impressions are valued just in so 
far as they facilitate the actualising of purposes and ideas. 

5. A further point must now be made. It has already 

been iintcil thai form may !>< beautiful or 
Aesthetic devoid of beauty, and between these two 

Form extremes is an indefinitely large numl - 

gradations. This is not the j>lav to niter 
into a discussion of what constitutes beauty. Suffice it 


now to say that under beauty of form we include all the 
elements of visual beauty grace of outline, appropriate- 
ness of details, tone and harmony of colours. 

Of all these qualities a child has an appreciation, but his 
appreciation is crude. He loves gaudy colours and strong 
contrasts, and his feeling for grace of form is even more 
embryonic than that for beauty of colour. But he delights 
in a beautiful flower, or butterfly, or bird, and, indeed, his 
expression of delight when he names such things ' pretty ' 
is generally well deserved. He does not know why they 
please him : he only feels the gratification. But there is 
the germ from which an educated taste may spring. In a 
few souls it springs spontaneously and irresistibly : they 
are the great artists of the world. In the majority of 
souls it requires careful training, or it will develop but 
little, if at all especially in a life passed amidst the 
generally grimy and ugly features of too many modern 
towns. It is not meant that the school should attempt 
to turn all its pupils into artists, but simply that 
it should aim at leading each to a higher level of 
taste, and thus should give an added value and interest 
to life. 

Though few can become artists, all can become more or 
less appreciative of beauty, whether found in nature or in 
art. And though we may think the statement that 
"industry without art is brutality" somewhat ex- 
treme, yet we must grant that a feeling for beauty 
is a powerful auxiliary to more directly moral means 
of ennobling and purifying life. For we must hold 
with Plato that goodness, truth, and beauty are closely 

6. It is evident, then, that training in form, thus under- 
stood, brings the child into many true and valuable 
relations with the world, and that these relations 


are typical of those by which man is gradually win- 
General ning mastery over his material environ- 
Functions of ment. They are relations into which each 
Training in individual must enter in some way ; the 
school training should aim at securing that 
he enters into them as effectively as possible. 

But it is also clear that such training brings him into 
tnuT relations with his human environment. It helps 
him to understand and to evaluate rightly the forms 
of activity by which the community in which he lives 
maintains itself and bends the forces of nature to its 

The great danger of the school is always that it may put 
itself out of relation to real life. Then it strives in vain to 
awaken its pupils' interest in its work, and consequently to 
evoke their hearty co-operation. And without this its real 
effect on their lives is but small. When he is trained to do 
things, the child sees at once a purpose in the doing, his 
i nt -rest and willing effort are called forth. One part of 
school work is seen by him to l>e a real help in his Hfe, his 
i nt -rest in it is excited, and this interest predisposes him 
t<> find the more abstract and intellectual occupations of 
the school also worthy of effort to accomplish. And when 
the various modes of physical activity are related to these 
<>thT and more distinctly mental modes of learning the 
interest l)ecomes cumulative. That such correlation is 
possible and even easy throughout will be shown in the 

Of the value of real mental culture there can be no 
doubt ; of the evil of limiting school work to such culture 
there is also no doubt. On the necessity of making all 
acquired knowledge fruitful in some way we liave already 
insist><l. The world has always rightly held in but 
small estevm the mere [M'dant the intellectual 


who for ever absorbs information, but never turns his 
accumulated stores to any purpose of value to mankind. 
That some men's lives should be devoted mainly to 
scholarship is good, provided that such scholarship is 
turned to account by increasing the knowledge and under- 
standing of mankind. But the primary school may well 
take as an axiom that its function is to prepare its pupils 
to live an intelligent, practical life, and not a life mainly of 
thought and investigation. Those few of them who are 
fitted for such a life should find their way by the help of 
scholarships to higher schools. 

Nor should the primary school be deterred by the cry of 
' utility.' True utility should be its aim, as, indeed, it 
should be the aim of schools of every grade. Nothing is 
more false than the doctrine that the primary school should 
take utility as its purpose, while the secondary school 
should seek culture. The aim of each should be a cultured 
utility or a useful culture it matters not which way it is 
put though the exact form of the means through which 
that aim is sought will not be the same. What every 
school has to avoid is that narrow utility which trains the 
young definitely for one kind of practical occupation. That 
is really not a true training in doing at all, for by its 
naiTow specialisation it limits the development of the 
power of doing and prevents it from being exercised in 
directions much more numerous than those in which it 
gives practice. 

At no time more than in the present practical and in- 
dustrial age has a purely bookish instruction in schools 
been out of relation to real life. And it ca,nnot be too 
often insisted that when this is the case the school must 
lar-vly fail to fulfil its true function in the community. 
To train in real purposeful physical doing is, then, an 
essential part of the work of every school which would fit 


its pupils to enter into the real life of the world about 
thriii, both now and in the future. Moreover, if such 
training is sufficiently varied it often helps the pupil to 
ver the kind of occupation for which he is best 
adapted, and thus tends to minimise the likelihood of his 
entering on a walk in life for which he has little aptitude, 
and which, as a natural consequence, never calls out his 
efforts, if even it does not become positively distasteful 
to him. It thus does something to minimise one of the 
moxt common forms of social waste. 

7. The argument which has been developed leads, how- 
ever, to the conclusion that training in various 

The Develop- physical dexterities is an essential part of the 

ment of Mam *V ,. , .... 

pulative Skill, education ot every child quite irrespective of 

the grade of school he attends. For it has 
I'l'fii shown that the relations with which such training 
deals are universal among mankind, and in some form and 
to some extent enter into every human life. They are 
functions without which life itself would be impossible. 
Consequently, the question whether they are well or ill per- 
formed cannot be indifferent to any individual, no matter 
what his station and occupation in life. And as every 
life-function has its inner as well as its outer aspect, the 
individual life itself must be mutilated if any essential 
form of functionin- is neglected. 

Now one of the most fundamental and constant activi- 
ties of life is perception, or apprehension of 
*ke va " ous elements of our surroundings. 
In all such apprehension, form, with its 
inseparable correlates, material and colour, plays an im- 
portant part, and we have seen that our knowledge of these 
jualities only U'comes real and fruitful when we deal with 
them 1'V phy-ical activity, and do Hot simply contemplate 
in ealm mental isolation. Throughout life, and 


especially in its earlier days, the essential question about 
any object is what we can do with it, and we learn its 
qualities as a means of answering that practical question. 
Increase of perceptual knowledge means, therefore, increase 
in power to modify things in various ways so as to adapt 
them to our purposes. And this continually increasing 
executive power we call manipulative skill. 

It follows that perceptual knowledge and skill are 
inseparable an increase in the one carries with it an 
increase in the other. In every practical activity we have 
a series of movements suggested and determined by the 
perception of the continually changing circumstances as 
the action advances towards the desired end. Skill simply 
means that all such movements are well adapted to secure 
the result. When skill is absent the movements are 
awkwardly performed, and the purpose is imperfectly 
attained. At first all series of movements are awkward, 
but with practice there comes a continually increasing 
adaptation, and the rapidity with which this is secured is 
much increased when the practice is guided by imitation of 
a good model of the activity. When skill has been 
attained the series of movements exhibits a large and 
important element of automatism. Attention is no longer 
given to the detailed execution of each successive step, but 
is kept fixed on the result to be attained and on the 
general adaptation of the means to its attainment. The 
series is willed as a whole, the kind of activity necessary 
is decided upon, and the actual carrying out of the move- 
ments is left to the established habits of motor adjust- 
ment. Every muscular contraction occurs just when and 
where it is seen to be needed. 

Now, obviously, until skill is attained we cannot learn 
much about the possibilities of various materials in serving 
our purposes ; we are too much taken up with ascertaining 


the kiinl of qualities possessed by the material to be able 
to take the further step of fitting those qualities into our 
scheme of life. Thus, while skill is absent, perception 
remains in its earlier stages, and as skill grows it advances to 
a fuller and fuller apprehension of the meaning and values 
of t hin^s. For example, till skill in the working of marble 
is attained the would-be sculptor cannot realise the possi- 
bilities of marble as a vehicle for embodying artistic ideas. 
Similarly, only when the child has command over brush 
or pencil are the possibilities of beauty lying hidden in 
|-iu r mc-nt or line made real to him. It is plain, then, that 
though physical activity and perception can be divided in 
thought they cannot be separated in practice without 
injury to both. 

Tliis is brought home to us still more forcibly when we 
study the physiology of the brain. The 
andTpsydio- points essential for our purpose are thus put 
logical Import- by Sir James Crichton Browne : 

tfcal ActhSties " The braln is nOt ' aS WaS at ne time 
supposed, a single organ acting as a whole, 

but a congeries of organs capable of more or less indepen- 
dent action, and in its central region there is an area which 
is the fountain of all muscular movements, in which will, 
intention, or memory are involved, and the reservoir of all 
impressions derived from muscular movements. This 
motor . . . area of tin- brain . . . again is not a single organ 
acting as a whole, but is made up of a number of distinct 
centres |.rfsi.lin-j <VT irnmps of muscles, an excitation of 
\vhich is followed by ilrtinite movements. . . . 

" lut motor centres in the brain, although capable in a 

taneous and independent action. <1<> not, as 

a rule, act singly, but in combined an<l blended action 

with rach other anl with sensory centres, and in order 

that centre may thus co-operate with centre, pathways of 


communication must be opened between them. ... A brain 
that is to be serviceable must be used and well used, and 
what is true of a brain is true of all its parts, so every 
brain centre should be used and well used. If a brain 
centre is not used at all it undergoes degeneration ; if it is 
imperfectly used it remains weak and sluggish ; if it is ex- 
cessively used it becomes irritable and unstable. Ami the 
just use of every brain centre necessarily implies the just use 
of the bodily organs with which it is connected It is impos- 
sible to establish communication between centre and centre 
unless the muscles subtending these centres are used. . . . 

" But I must go further and maintain that use to be 
truly useful to brain centres must be resorted to at the 
proper time, and that exercise has an even more essential 
relation to the growth and development of the centres than 
to the maintenance of their healthy activity. 

" The several centres of the brain do not expand and 
blossom all at once. They evolve gradually and in succes- 
sion, and in every brain there are, at one and the same 
time, zones of budding spring, of luxuriant summer, and of 
autumnal harvest, opulent or meagre, as the case may be. 
. . . We know that each centre has its nascent or growth 
period, which is sometimes very short, as it must be in the 
centre in which the movements of sucking are co-ordinated, 
and sometimes very long, as in those in which are co- 
ordinated the movements of the hand from its first feeble 
grasp up to its consummate achievements in shaping and 
making. But whether the nascent period be long or short, 
it is of paramount importance that it should be taken ad- 
vantage of while it lasts, and that the organs related to the 
centre should be duly exercised during its continuance. If 
the nascent period is permitted to slip past unimproved no 
subsequent labour or assiduity will compensate for the loss 
thus sustained. . 


" The nascent period of the hand centres has not been 
accurately measured off, but it probably extends from the 
first year of life to the end of adolescence, its most active 
epoch being from the fourth to the fifteenth year, after 
which these centres, in the large majority of persons, be- 
come somewhat fixed and stubborn. Hence it can be 
understood that boys and girls whose hands have been 
altogether untrained up to the fifteenth year are practically 
incapable of high manual efficiency ever afterwards. . . . 

" The small muscles of the eye, ear, larynx, tongue, hand 
have imu-h higher and more extensive intellectual relations 
than the large muscles of the trunk and limbs. If you 
would attain to the full intellectual stature of which you 
are capable, do not, I would say, neglect the physical 
education of the hand." 1 

These somewhat extended quotations from one of the 
greatest living authorities on the subject show that the 
connection we have urged between appropriate physical 
activity and increase of knowledge and intelligence is one 
made necessary by the nature of our physical organisation. 

We see, then, that training in manual skill is an essential 
factor in ln-in^ing the young into true intel- 
Social lectual relations with both his physical and 

DeTOloping ' k* 8 soc w\ surroundings. But equally impor- 
Skill. tant is it in developing true moral relations 

towards life. When the work of a school is 
altogether l>ookish it t-n<ls to set het'ore the pupils a false 
idea of the relative values of manual t>il ami other occupa- 
tions. The idea that the aim of life is to be idle and that 
th.'iv is soni.-thing degrading in working with the hands, the rl.-rk or shopkeeper is superior to the carpenter or 
Murksmitli, that a Mack coat ami silk hat are symbols of a 

1 Prvndenlial Addrew at tin Sn/t ,sv/,<W., Si,,'jJ,i/, pp. -Ji :<:t. 


nobler and higher type of life than horny hands and gar- 
ments soiled by toil, is one of the most mischievous that 
can take root in the mind of any individual. To lead to 
an appreciation of all honest work, to give the power of 
distinguishing good work from bad, to inspire respect for 
all worthy effort, to make clear that to produce some- 
thing worth producing is man's noblest function in life, 
and that in the lowest as in the highest production it is 
the truth with which the work is done which ennobles the 
worker these are lessons every school may well be proud to 
teach. In no way can such lessons be taught more vividly 
and more convincingly than in those manual crafts in which 
the very nature of the work done makes clear the deficien- 
cies or the excellences of the workmanship. 

8. Such considerations as those we have put forward 
establish beyond the possibility of cavil the 
Choice of Means importance of training manual dexterity in 
for Training * ft* 

Skill. the production of form. It remains to con- 

sider what principles should guide the choice 
of occupations used by the school for that purpose. 

It is evident that an immense number of ways of employ- 
ing the hands are possible. But mere employment of the 
hand is not what is wanted. Only those processes which 
lead on to fuller and fuller appreciation of 
Possibility of ^ orm an( l the concurrent qualities of material 
Development, and colour, and of the possibilities of applica- 
bility to human purposes, are of educational 
value. Hence, all exercises which simply train one narrow 
kind of manual dexterity, and which have no inherent 
principle of development into wider and more complex 
activities, should be rejected. 

Several of the favourite devices of the schools such as 
paper-mosaics stand condemned by this principle. The 
dexterity this exercise gives can be as effectively attained 


in other processes which are capable of development into 
higher forms. and which teach infinitely more of the form 
ami nature of real things. Moreover, the crudity of colour 
in the only papers available renders paper-mosaic an actual 
training in bad taste. Infinitely better is it to fix the 
attention on the colours of flower and bird, of fish and 
butterfly ; to train the eye to note the exquisite harmonies 
of -hade in rock and lichen, of green leaf and blue sky, and 
t<>t ry to reproduce some of the simplest in the medium of 
water-colour, which, though it cannot rival the tints of 
nature, yet escapes the horrors of the coloured crudities 
which are produced in such large numbers in many 

< >ls. 
Other favourite manual occupations of the kindergarten 

and the lower school must be condemned 
to Motor n because of their too great minuteness. Till 
Development, the age of six or seven the co-ordination of 

the smaller muscles of eye and hand is very 
imperfect, ami the exercises should be such as require 
wide sweeping arm movements and broad hand move- 
ments. From seven to about fourteen the power of 
accuracy in detailed movements increases rapidly ; after the 
latt-r a ire there is some retardation of this increase rela- 
tively to that of the larger muscles of trunk, legs, and arms. 
Many occupations are introduced into schools for the 

sake of variety. When this need is felt it is 
Value of a clear proof that the right principles of 

Modelling 111 choice have been departed from. No form 

of activitv i> \\orfhy of special cultivation in 
school unless it is capable of development into higher and 
lii-jl . . a development, indeed, the full extent <>!' 

h the school will never measure. Su.-h exercises are 
drawing and modelling in day or in some similar plastic 
materul The one is the germ of all great paintim:. the 



other of all great sculpture. Fear need, therefore, never be 
felt that the pupils of a primary school will exhaust their 
possibilities. Moreover, in their more advanced forms they 
are activities which are felt to be worthy of the attention of 
an adult, and may thus be carried on in the leisure hours of 
later life by those who have a special artistic taste or apti- 
tude. But who can imagine a sane man or woman employ- 
ing a wet holiday in the production of paper-mosaics, and 
the other forms of perverted ingenuity of which that is the 

Further, drawing and modelling when properly pursued 
fulfil the condition of uniting the physical activity with the 
mental activity involved in fuller and more exact know- 
ledge of real things. Before one can reproduce from 
memory, either in clay or in pencil, the form of a flower, or 
fruit, or bird, or beast, or fish, or rock, or tree, one must 
have observed the object itself much more closely than one 
would otherwise have done, and that not merely by looking 
at it, but by bringing to bear on it every possible sense 

Nor is the range of drawing and modelling confined to 
luitiu'al objects. Man's productions are, as has been said, 
changes in the forms of natural things, and the changed 
forms can be studied and reproduced as easily as the original. 
Thus drawing and modelling are powerful aids to the 
apprehension of form, colour, and material wherever they 
are found. In other words, when properly employed they 
come to the aid of much of the school instruction in every 
subject, and their correlation with other subjects is con- 
tinuous and infinitely varied in its mode. Whenever the 
teaching deals with a visible object it is possible to repre- 
sent the form of that object by drawing or modelling, and 
whenever the object is important in the subject in which it 
occurs it is advisable to do so. 


Iii drawing and modelling, apprehension of fonii and 
appreciation of beauty are the chief ends 
ai m ed at, and the easily manipulated and 
yielding nature of the material offers little 
tele to formative effort. The case is different when 
wood is the medium of expression. Wood is indocile, and 
by working in it the pupil learns the desirable lesson that 
to carry out one's purposes one must adapt one's efforts to 
t!i- nature of the means one has to employ. The carving 
in relief in wood of the simpler artistic forms drawn and 
modelled is, therefore, undoubtedly a valuable addition to 
the range of activities, and contributes materially to the 
acquirement of that perfect and automatic control of hand 
movements whieh is essential to the production of the best 
w< >rk. It is to be feared, however, that in comparatively few 
schools can carving l>e introduced at present owing to the 
dearth of qualified teachers. Its union with modelling and 
drawing from about the fourth school year is rather 
an ideal to be looked forward to than a present possi- 

Hitherto we have confined our attention to the study of 
natural and artistic forms. In many of man's 
Handicraft const met ions, however, beauty is made sub- 
ordinate to utility. Drawing ami modelling, 
and carving when it is included need to be 
supplemented by a training in useful constructions with 
Sin-h handieralt should not be addressed to the 
acquirement of any. special trade, but should ! organised 
80 as to give broad, but accurate, ideas of the general lines 
. hi-li siK-h const met ions should be made, and of the 
uses and possibilities of the various common tools. Like 
.nd .ar\in-, such \\ork in wood or i.s eapabl-- of indefinite extension. l-Yoin the first 
rud*- att'inj.t.^ of a savage to construct a wooden seat to 


the beautiful productions of Chippendale and Adam is a 
far cry, and fear need not be felt that the primary school 
will exhaust the possibilities. 

Such work should, then, be introduced towards the end 
of the school life, and should receive much attention during 
the years of early adolescence, characterised as they are by 
the rapid growth and development of the larger muscles. 
Of course, handicraft is not so intimately related to the 
other subjects of the school course as are drawing and 
modelling, but it finds its appropriate place in the life 
activities of the child, and so is related in various 
more or less indirect ways to everything else which 
helps to constitute that life, whilst with some parts 
of mathematics and nature study its relations are very 

9. The general principles on which training in various 
forms of manual skill should be given have 
Summary of been indicated in the discussion just con- 
General eluded. We may briefly summarise them: 
Principles of , N ml 1-1 / 1 
Method, ( a ) The teaching should be such as to lead 

to clear and definite apprehension of form, 
and to power to express ideas of form in various materials. 
In order to secure this the mechanical and executive 
processes should be made automatic. 

(6) Drawing, modelling and carving when it is intro- 
duced should be correlative to each other, the same forms 
being produced in each medium. 

(c) The exercises should be related to the life experiences 
of the pupils, including the other subjects of school in- 

(d) Educative handicraft should be general in its 
nature, and should be made a mode of studying part 
of the world of things as well as of gaining constructive 


10. The fullest advantage can only be derived from 

handwork when it is taught by teachers who 
Techer are sp^^ty qualified by skill and aptitude. 

Everybody can attain to some degree of 
manual skill, but not everybody has that natural artistic 
taste and culture and that special aptitude of hand which 
should be found in the teacher. Moreover, all branches 
of the teaching should be under the same direction, and, 
as far as possible, in the same hands. Such a broad 
treatment as is required cannot be expected when the 
teaching of handicraft is placed in the hands of a mere 
raftsman. Every tiling, then, points to the need in this 
branch of studies of following the example of France, and 
t-nt rusting the art work of each school to a specially quali- 
fied meml>er of the staff. So long as every class teacher 
is expected, as a matter of course, to teach drawing and 
some form of manual occupation, the work will fail to 
\ield results commensurate with the time, effort, and 
mone\ lavished upon it. And while this is the case it is 
to be feared that the general level of artistic taste in 
England will remain complacently tolerant of the ugly 
and appreciative of the meretricious. 

1 1 . Having investigated the nature of form and the part 

it plays in human life, and deduced the 
General Nature , .. 

of Course in general principles which should guide the 

Modelling and teaching of form in schools, we will now 
briefly and broadly apply those principles to 
tin- subjects <>ur analysis has led us to believe the most 
profitable. No attempt to lay down a syllabus will be 
made. In art work, more than in all other forms of 
lity is to b< deprecated. Each competent 
teacher will draw out his own general course, and will 
provide within it abundant means for variation bv indi- 
vidual pupils a- -cord in- to their powers and the .|iiickne88 


or slowness with which those powers develop. Such general 
courses, and such possibilities of variation, will be effective 
in proportion to the skill with which the various elements 
of a complete training are related to each other. It 
is the general mode of such relations we have now to 

In the apprehension of the form of solid objects we 
have seen that touch and movement combine 
r : AN itli sight, and that the impressions received 

from the latter must be interpreted by in fans 
of knowledge derived from the former. It follows that 
drawing is a more abstract and artificial way of represent- 
ing solid forms than is modelling, and consequently that 
modelling should precede drawing in the earlier stages of 
teaching, ami tluit, throughout, the two should illustrate 
and help cadi other. 

Moreover, in the apprehension of surface coloured n 
comes first : the exact shape of the outline is seized only 
when attention is specially drawn to it. It follows that 
mass drawing in colour should precede outline drawing. 
Further, as colour is so important an element of beauty, it 
is necessary that the representation of coloured masses 
should accompany modelling and outline drawing through- 
out the course. 

Bearing in miml the objects of the teaching of form we 

see that the contents of the course will 
2 en ? r *! be drawn both from nature and from art, 

Course. an< l tnat the relations of these to each other, 

especially the ways in which the freer forms 
of nature are conventionalised so as to be adapted to the 
more symmetrical forms of art, are gradually made explicit. 
The artistic use of natural as well as of geometrical and 
conventionalised forms will be brought out by an examina- 
tion of appropriate examples which makes clear the 


principles of tlioir construction, and the pupils will be led 
to apply those principles to constructions of their own, 
adapted to attain certain definite ends. 

A well arranged course will harmonise with the order of 
the development of muscular co-ordination. Thus, the 
smaller pupils will mainly be engaged in free-arm drawing 
and the modelling of general mass. The representation 
of finer detail will only be required gradually as the 
co-ordination of the smaller muscles becomes more perfect. 
It will l>e recognised, moreover, that such perfection is 
attainable only on the basis of considerable automatism in 
the co-ordinations of the larger muscles, for without this 
there is no freedom of adaptation, and consequently no 
artistir quality. The course will, then, include continual 
drill in certain chosen basic forms which demand for their 
execution sweeping movements of arm or hand. 

A course which thus harmonises with the physiological 
development of the child's life will also be in harmony 
with its 1 1 1 i 1 1 1 al development, for, as we have seen, percep- 
tion and muscular co-ordination grow together. The mind 
apprehends wholes before details, and the more character- 
istic details are seized long before those less salient 
r l'li' course of teaching should recognise this. In natural 
forms the gradation will le much less in the objects studied 
than in the thoroughness with which their individual 
dive:- from what may !>< called the typical 1'orm 

say of a fish or of a bird are sei/ed and reproduced. The 
game natural objects may form appropriate KKfOVKU f.r 
the youngest and for the .ilde>t pupils. Imt the amount 
ieen and represented sin mid !> very different in the two 
eases. In art forms the l> asic lines of const ruction should 
be studied first, and the details gradually apprehended 
M growing out of such lines, and -ivin^ meanin 


Throughout an effective course it will be borne in mind 
that neither drawing nor modelling is mere 

real and living knowledge of form, and such 

knowledge is attained only when the hand and eye work- 
ing together can express the idea conceived in the mind. 
The general order of acquiring skill must be observed 
imitation of example, reproduction by memory, origination 
based on such imitation and memory. The reproduction 
of forms from memory is involved in what has been said 
on the attainment of automatic skill. Without this all 
true and free origination is impossible. For in origination 
in art as in writing the attention must be concentrated on 
the ideas to be conveyed, and not distracted to the 
mechanical production of the forms by which the expres- 
sion of those ideas is effected. 

Further, the course will secure that in idea as well as in 
skill the same order is followed. Much waste of time now 
goes on in schools in what is ambitiously called ' design,' 
though it lacks the most essential feature of design the 
adaptation to purpose. Such fancy drawing has no educa- 
tional value, for it involves no element of training. It is 
from study and analysis of examples in relation to their 
purpose, from clear apprehension of the adaptation of 
means to end made intellectually automatic by much 
practice, that any power of real artistic origination springs. 
And the wise teacher will remember that he may have 
pupils who will be able to appreciate beauty of design, to 
discriminate degrees of worth in designs, and to reproduce 
beautiful designs from memory, who have little or no power 
of originating graceful forms and combinations. As has 
been said, all may learn to appreciate artistic beauty, but 
few have it in them to become artists. Too few teachers 
recognise that to encourage children to originate the ugly 


is to give them a very bad training. ' Originality * is 

now-a-days so much in fashion that it is frequently for- 

u that the evil and unworthy may be originated as 

easily as the good and worthy. It is the quality of the 

product, not its newness in human experience, which is the 

n-al test of its value in life, and consequently in education. 

12. A course laid down on these lines will bear little 

resemblance to the kind of ' art work ' fre- 

ArtWoi ? in quently found in English schools. Paper- 
English Pri- . j i j . - 
maxy Schools, mosaics, ' tree-hand mutation ot meaningless 

forms printed on paper, some drawing of 
geometrical models are the traditional constituents of such 
a course. To these is now frequently added more or less 
of tin- so-called designing' to which we have referred 
When we further remember that every teacher in a primary 
school is assumed to be capable of conducting such a course, 
whether he has or has not either artistic taste or manipula- 
tive skill, surprise cannot be felt that the results have been 
of little worth artistically or educationally. 

In France these things are managed more wisely. There. 
drawing is only taught by teachers specially trained and 
qualified for the work, and 'free-hand copies' are unknown." 
hildivn draw from real things and so learn real form. 
Consequently they are interested 1 1m ugh out, and the results 
are seen not only in the actual excellence of the school 
work, but in the artistic superiority of the French workman 
his K Mulish brother. 

The traditional English course has aimed with single eve 
at maiiij. ulative dexterity, 1. ut has ignored the essential con- 
ditions of securing even that in a fruitful form. What 
knowledge of the actual world, what power ot using it for 
one's own purposes, could possibly it-suit from constant 
practice in t hi' reproduction of printed forms which resrmMe 
nothing so much a> \\\> t \\ ist iiiu r > of pieces of v in- 


apparently suffering from some horrible nightmare ? Even 
when actual forms as a vase or jug were represented they 
were usually elevations, and thus actually impressed on 
the pupil's mind a form which he could never see, and 
so taught him so far as it taught him anything to see 
wrongly. What interest could possibly be developed by 
such teaching as this ? How could it bear on life or on 
the needs of life ? 

The first reform in the teaching of drawing required in 
England is the absolute banishment of the free-hand copy, 
and no reason can be given for its retention except the in- 
competence of many teachers of drawing. In schools with 
a plurality of teachers this difficulty can easily be obviated 
by securing that at least one member of the staff is com- 
petent to carry on a course of art work, and then placing 
the whole of that work in his hands. And it must be 
emphasise 1 that until this is done our art teaching in 
England will be generally unproductive and ineffective. It 
is no disgrace to a teacher to be unable to teach drawing 
and modelling : he may do excellent work in other subjects. 
But for a teacher who cannot draw or model to pretend to 
teach those arts is a wrong to the children, though a wrong 
which lies less at the door of the individual under whom 
the children suffer than at the door of those education 
authorities or head tcnehers who insist on his doing work 
for which he is unsuited. 

When this is recognised another desirable result will be 
easily secured, at any rate in the larger schools. With the 
special teacher will come the special rooms. Instead of the 
monotony of one teacher and one room there will be the 
variety of some change both of teacher and of room. There 
will l)e the drawing-room, fitted with drawing surface all 
round the walls 1 on which the children can do free-arm 
1 Painted Parian cement makes an excellent surface. 


drawings, with desks and scats spe-ially adapted for 
drawing, and with casts and other objects from which 
drawings are to he made. And there will be the modelling- with its tables and modelling boards, its modelling 
tools, and its objects for imitation. In each room will be 
examples of more advanced work than even the oldest 
pupils are capable of, yet not out of the range of their 
understanding and appreciation, which serve to whet their 
enthusiasm and to ^ive them an ideal to strive towards. 
Lest such proposals should seeni Utopian dreams it may be 
well to observe that in America they are dreams which are 

- moiv and IIP -re generally realised. 
13. The combined course, then, will begin with modelling 
some simple object, such as a ball. Each child 
must uave a ball and be encouraged to feel it 
and Drawing with attention, so as to get the feel of it into 
^ irS M dnr S ^' s memoi 7- Then under the teacher's direc- 
tioii he proceeds to mould the clay into a 
similar form and a similar size. From the ball to the 
-range is an easy step, and so on to plum, apple. j>ear, and 
other fruit forms. Each form should be practised suffi- 
ciently often to attain facility and the power of re- 
production from memory. But though practising the 
game general form, as many varied embodiments of 
it as possible should be sought, lest monotony deaden 

At first the f,,n i Ps produced will be typical rather than 
representative of individual pemliarit ies. and they will lx? 
crude and imperfect, especially \\hen executed from 
iiiein,,r\. The fceftCker, however, should at first aim at 
i\ r.ilhcr than acciira< \ . reOOgnising thai the latter is 
iiiip<.il-le without the former. 

\ ry soon after modi-Kin uu. drawing in mass 

should I*- introduced. This i> preferably done on the 


wall surface, but if that is not available as is un- 
happily the case in most English schools 
brown paper may be used. Coloured chalks 
are preferable at this early stage to the brush 
as having a more easily managed point. Such mass draw- 
ing should begin in the centre of the representation 
of the object and work outwards, and the right colours 
should be used yellow for orange, green for leaves, 
red for carrots. Of course, to ask the children to draw 
the outline first and then fill it in is not mass drawing 
at all, and fails in the object of leading the children to 
represent mass as they apprehend mass that is, as mass 
and not as filled outline. At first, again,, fonns more or 
less typical will be produced, and in the earlier lessons it is 
better to have only one object for the children to look at, 
which should be fixed up in sight of the whole class. The 
teacher works on the board and the pupils imitate his 
method. This imitation of process should always precede 
the stage in which only the product is set before the pupils 
as a model to be copied. 

In the representation of such forms the characteristic 
features should be emphasised from the first 
^Differences Children are very quick to seize on such 
features, and it is their presence or absence 
which makes a representation life-like or the reverse. Such 
characteristic features are common to all members of a 
class of objects, and are, indeed, the marks by which we 
recognise the class to which any particular object belongs. 
The recognition of the peculiarities which separate indi- 
vidual from individual within a class is a gradual develop- 
ment of the same process by which the differentiating 
features of classes are noticed. 

Both perception and representation must proceed on 
these lines. Whether, in modelling or in drawing, the 


characteristic features come first, the individual variations 
follow little by little. At first these, too, are better 
analysed out by the whole class from a common example, 
lut as soon as possible each child should try to notice 
and to represent the peculiarities of a different object, 
the teacher using one specimen merely to lead the class 
as a whole to notice a certain kind of peculiarity, but iin- 
1'ivssdng upon the children the necessity of noticing exactly 
how that peculiarity is shown in their own examples. 
Always must the teacher be on his guard against telling 
his pupils what to represent; the whole value of the 
exercise is lost if representation is not the expression of 

14. The drawing in mass in coloured chalks will natur- 
ally develop about the third year into brush 

Brush Work drawing in water-colour. Here an infinite 

and Outline . 

Drawing. vista of possibilities is opened to view; nature 

cannot be exhausted in the primary school. 
The intensive observation of colour which brush work en- 
tails if it is to be of worth is one of the surest means of 
training artistic taste. Flower and shell are specially rich 

in colour tints, but almost everything -in nature can be 
turned to account, Of course the objects studied in the 
nature course will be represented in colour in the drawing 

le by side with the mass drawing in water-colour will 
go outline drawing with the pencil. Kach helps and supple- 
m'iit> the other; for while tin- former gives fulness and 
lii'- to the latter, the latter \>\ its insistence on detail- 
inci- used accuracy to ih- former. The full effect is only 
ued when similar objects are draun in both ways. l>ut 
tin- liiitiiiu r of jM-ncil oiitlin. value as a means of 

teach i n L r form : it is a juin-ly mechanical exercise iW \\hieh 
the school has no 


15. Of the arrangement of the course in nature drawing 
it is unnecessary to say much. As has al- 

Course in ready been said, it is not so much a difference 

Nature . ,. ^ , . ,., 

Drawing. m the objects represented as a difference in 

the perfection with which they are repre- 
sented which marks progress. We will only remark that 
objects should be sought from all the departments of 
nature, especially natural life fish and bird and beast, 
as well as plants and fruits, being laid under contribu- 

In every case observation and practice should work hand 
in hand till the form can be produced with facility from 
memory, or even in an imagined position in which it has 
never been actually observed with close attention. It is, 
thus, quite needless to draw or model from stuffed exam- 
ples of animals on the ground that the living creatures do 
not remain still. That practice is a remnant of the heresy 
that drawing or modelling is merely copying what is before 
the eye. The chicken in its constant movements remains 
the same chicken, and its very movements, by presenting 
to the eye its form in different aspects, enable the atten- 
tive observer to grasp the essentials of that form more 
thoroughly, and this is the essential preliminary to a life- 
like representation of it. No doubt at first such repre- 
sentations will be crude, even grotesque. That is the 
characteristic of all early attempts at art both in the race 
and in the individual, but it is the indispensable root 
without which the flower of artistic representation can 
never be secured. 

When a natural object is either modelled or drawn it 
should be represented in a natural position. Thus, a pear 
should be lying on its side or hanging from a branch, not 
apparently upheld by a wire passed through its centre. This 
leads us to see that in modelling the object should not be 


held and formed in the hands after the first few examples, in 
which it is looked at in detachment from its surroundings 
and in which only a rough approximation to form is aimed 
at. The model should be worked on a slab of clay which 
represents the board on which the actual object rests, and 
c.inv.-t ness in position as well as in shape should be sought. 
A good test of the degree to which this is secured is the 
more or less perfect coincidence of the direction and size 
of the shadows cast by object and modelled copy respec- 
tively. Such shadows should be studied in all drawing of 
objects as well as in all modelling of them. In this as in 
other respects the two modes of representation should go 
hand in hand. 

16. In the representation of solid objects by a flat draw- 
ing there is involved an application of the 

Principles of principles of perspective. These should not, 

of course, be taught as abstract rules, but 

should 1 < gathered by the pupils themselves from their own 
guided observations. The ordinary objects of nature and 
use do not brinix out these principles so clearly and unain- 
l>i'_:uou>ly as do certain prepared examples. It is, there- 
fore, advisable to have lessons with such models, though 
at no time should they be made the main content of tin- 
course. They should rather be occasional incidents broi i ud 1 1 
in by the teacher when the pupils have met with an execu- 
tive dilliculty which they will help to clear away. 

In 1'ivnch schools children in the third school year are 
taught these principles with irivat success, and what is done 
in France may be done in England. A simple apparat us is 
found Affective. "A frame of wire gauze or glass is used, on 
which to draw the models and show tin- j ^rspective. A- 
this frame a small iron rod is placed on hooks to show the 

eye-level. A small circular piece of zinc, which is pierced 
with a hole, and slides on a vertical rod. is also used. Thi.s 


fixes the point of sight. Any simple object is placed 
behind the wire gauze. The point of sight is placed on 
the table at the other side of the gauze. The rod, which 
represents the eye-level, is placed exactly at the same height 
as the point of sight, and each pupil who does not under- 
stand perspective is made to place his eye behind the point 
of sight so that he sees through the hole in the zinc. He 
then draws on the gauze or glass the object before his 
eyes. Then he draws the same object from another point 
of view and compares this drawing with the one he made 

"The first model used is a square made of wire and 
divided into four equal parts by horizontal wires. It is 
drawn first from the front, then turned away. In both 
cases the eye-level is drawn across the paper, and when 
the square is drawn turned away the vanishing lines are 
carried out to their vanishing point on the line of the eye- 

"The second model is the same square placed so that 
the lines are vertical." 1 

Then wire skeleton models of the simpler solid geo- 
metrical figures are studied. Thus the relations of the 
lines on which attention is to be concentrated are seen as 
far as possible standing by themselves, and the back lines 
are visible as well as those in front. The transition to 
solid models is easy. But it should never be forgotten 
that this grammar of drawing, and these examples specially 
designed to bring out that grammar, are merely auxiliary, 
and are uninteresting and uninspiring unless they are seen 
by the pupils to be helpful in drawing real objects. The 
transition to common objects and casts of various kinds of 
ornament should, therefore, be made as soon as possible. 

1 Moore, Report on Method of Teaching Drawing and Design in 
the Schools of Paris, pp, 4-5. 


17. This has led us to the course in the conventional 
forms of art-. The foundations of this are 
ventional Art " tound. ^ certain more or less symmetrical 
forms. These should at first be drawn free- 
arm on the wall drawing-surface, or on small blackboards 
placed ami hi'M vertically. The course should begin imme- 
diate! v tli'> children enter the senior school if it has not 
ni in the infant school. The drawings should be made 
without swaying the body, about the height of the chin, 
and of a moderate si/.e, say six inches across. Afterwards 
similar free drawings should be practised on large pieces 
of brown paper laid on the desk, though drawings on 
vertical surfaces should never cease to be part of the 
course. In the upper classes the pupils should be able to 
execute with facility and accuracy drawings of considerable 
complexity and of any size the drawing surface will 

Throughout, the teacher must insist on free swinging 
movements, and no rubbing out should be allowed. In- 
deed, rubbing <>ut should never be permitted in any of the 
earlier exercises in . 1 ra w i ng. The children should from the 
beginning form tin- habit of putting down lines intended 
to remain. They will make mistakes, especially at first, but 
skill will come with practice. The swing of a curve may 
be practised in the air just above the paper or just in 
front of the board till the arm and hand are accustomed 

The drill in the basic construction lines of conventional 
art should be constant, but should never last more t han ten 
minutes at a time. ,M ben, 1 and fruitful 

by various combinations, 'i --, the straight line, the 

ellipse, the -j.iral. the scroll, the CTOCket, and the anthemion 
or figure consist i ! ntral lobe with other various 

shaped lobet* symmetrically arranged on each side of it 

TO. M 


which plays so large a part in Greek art, should be practised 
till their execution becomes as automatic as writing. 

Such figures should be drawn with both hands, separately 

and together, till they can be produced with 
Ambidexterity. . .. e h . 

facility and accuracy. This ambidextrous 

practice is a great help in the broader kinds of drawing, 
and the training of children in it has the advocacy of the 
-ivat painter Meissonier. In modelling and wood work, 
of course, the power to use each hand is essential. In the 
finer kinds of drawing and in brush work it is better to 
keep to the right hand, for the anatomy of the brain 
shows that all the more delicate muscular movements have 
their centre in the left lobe of the brain, from which 
the motor nerves pass to the right side of the body. 
But in the execution of the larger movements it is 
customary to neglect the training of the left hand far too 

These basic forms should not remain abstractions. They 

should continually be put to use. Their use 

in casts ot ornaments should be examined : 

it should be seen how by combinations of one or more with 
various conventionalised natural forms designs suitable for 
certain purposes ofornamentation are built up, and having 
analysed such examples, the pupils should be encouraged 
to attempt designs of their own based on the same basic 
HtMiient and following the same general laws of combination. 
Such productions should be criticised from the point of 
view of their adherence to, or departure from, the accepted 
principles of constructive decorative art. The pupils should 
never be allowed to suppose that any fancy combination of 
curves or elements which in some way fills a given space is 
really a design, or has necessarily any worth. Of course, 
in judging children's attempts a high standard should not 
be taken, but throughout it must be made apparent that 


arti>tic decorative art is governed by principles as definite 
as an> the laws of harmony in music. 

Further, it should be recognised that with some children 
time given to original design will be found by experience 
to be unprofitable spent. Such pupils will be better 
employed in studying and reproducing artistic designs of 
others than in degrading their taste by repeated perpetra- 
tion of monstrosities of their own. 

Concurrently with this course in the drawing of conven- 
tional art forms should run a similar course 

in clav ' For this ' modellin g tools wi 11 l 
needed. The pupil makes a plain slab or 
tilt-, and on it sketches with the edge of the tool the spiral, 
scroll or other element which is to be the basis of the 
finished pattern. This should be practised over and ovei 
again till it is satisfactory, the unsuccessful attempts being 
easily erased with the palette knife. On this Around plan 
the pattern is built up by adding clay, and is finished by 
manipulating it with the modelling tool. 

Thus, copies of Greek architectural and other ornament 
can be Ixjth drawn and modelled, and the principles of 
decorative art learnt and applied. Vast variety is possible. 
The basic elements may be combined in an endless number 
of ways with each other anl with suitable decorative addi- 
tion^ \\\i\ this should never be done at random. The 
reason and fitness of each ornamental detail should be 
invest iurated. and in any original compositions attempted 
bv the children they should In- taught to imagine the 
general lines of the whole composition before they 
make the first stroke, i\\ \<> go on adding piece to 
piece without an idea of what the whole result will 
be. Of course this docs not imply that rough pre- 
liminary sketches to aid the imagination may i\\ 
ibly be made. 


18. The power of drawing and modelling thus developed 

should enable the pupils in the upper classes 
Correlation to sketch rapidly and accurately the essential 
Sub'ects 6 of features of illustrations put before them in 
Study. lessons in such subjects as history, geography, 

and natural history, and their note-books in 
those subjects should be illustrated by such sketches. The 
characteristics of a mediaeval castle, for example, are easily 
sketched ; so are the forms of ships at different ages. 
A course of lessons on the development of church architec- 
ture might well be given to the elder pupils. The typical 
f onns of arch and doorway and window-tracery are not hard 
either to distinguish or to draw, and the kiiowlfl-v 
obtained and recorded in sketches gives added interest to 
many a walk either in country or in town. 

19. Of carving in wood we shall say very few words, 

because, as has been already granted, it can 
" a ^ P resen ^ h introduced into very few 

schools owing to the small number of 
teachers competent to teach it. And in this subject, 
happily, teachers who know they are incompetent do 
not attempt to do the impossible, as they very frequently 
do in drawing and not infrequently in modelling. But 
when carving in wood can be taught it is an excellent 
adjunct to the other two forms of art work. It may be 
begun in the fourth or fifth school year, and requires but a 
small outlay for apparatus a few chisels and gouges, a 
mallet, and one or two clamps being all that are needed for 
each pupil. The most profitable kind of exercise is the 
carving of panels in relief. Very similar designs to those 
already spoken of under drawing and modelling can be 
produced, though they would have less fine detail than the 
modelled tiles even as those would have less than the drawn 
designs. The pattern should be drawn on the wood with 


chalk, which can easily be effaced, and repeated till it is 
ry. ami should then he marked over more per- 
manently with a soft pencil. The wood not contained in 
the pattern is then cut away with the chisel till the pattern 
is left in relief. 

Of course, the application of the art to the carving of 
boxes. and with more advanced pupils to the ornamentation 
t' articles of furniture, such as chairs, stools, tables, cup- 
boards, and desks, gives additional value and interest to 
the work in the eyes of the pupils. 

20. A well conceived scheme of educative handicraft 

should begin in the lowest class, and should 

Handicraft in h<> a development of the occupations of the 

Cardboard. infant school. In the first and second years 

articles should l>e constructed of paper, and 

in the third and fourth years of cardboard of varying 

t hickness. Bags, envelopes, boxes, trays, and other suita 1 le 

obj.vts should l>e made; scissors and paste being used in 

the paper work, and the knife, steel ruler, and glue in the 

"uctions in cardboard. 

B u r 'ii-ral plan of teaching should be for the pupils to 
'nine a typical object, and in the earlier 

Teaching '"^ t " t;l '"'' '* * I'' <1(VS m "1'der to ascer- 

tain tin' shape of the paper or cardboard and 

the mod.- in which the parts are joined together. 

In the el.-mentary stages the children's drawings will 
usually lit- made on the actual piece of paper 
or cardboard which has to 1*> cut. l>ut later 

thi-v >hould l>e encouraged t<> malxemugli sketches of \ 

Of whol.-s of lini>lied to mark in pencil the mea- 

icntH made, and from th U to produce an 

accurate drawing t-> measure. This drawing should then 

sed as a guide to the actual construct ive work. In the 

later stages these plans of work to u> done should be made 


without analysing an actual object, the memory of former 
analyses giving the pupils power to imagine the construc- 

By these means the children's advance may be a real 
growth in constructive power and not merely an increase in 
imitative ability. The pupil must apprehend clearly the 
result he desires to attain, and himself plan the means by 
which that result may be realised. In constructive hand- 
work, more than in all other school exercises, the develop- 
ment of self-reliance and initiative is among the umsi 
valuable results which can be attained. In these subjects 
emphatically the best teacher is he who, to the greatest 
extent and in the shortest time, succeeds in becoming 

21. Educative handicraft in wood, involving the use of 
tools, cannot profitably be begun before the 

fifth 8ch<x>1 vear ' Zt should then * studied 
intensively, at least one lesson of not less than 

two hours' duration being given to it each week, and when 
it is possible this time may, with advantage, be doubled ; 
for in establishing muscular co-ordinations it is frequency 
rather than duration of practice which leads to the most 
speedy attainment of the desired result. Such handicraft 
is good for the pupil morally and mentally, while the 
physical benefits also are great. During a lesson in wood- 
work the pupil gets frequent short muscular exercises, 
and at the same time he is developing self-reliance, con- 
centration of attention, perseverance, and appreciation of 
the value of accuracy. 

When educative wood- work is entered upon the same 

principles should guide the teaching as in 
^od- work constructions in paper and cardboard. But 

here new difficulties are met with. All woods 
are more difficult to manipulate than is paper or cardboard, 


and woods differ from each other in their amenability to 
human efforts. Hence various kinds of tools have been 
invented, each of which is adapted to secure a certain kind 
of result. 

The course should be so arranged that, as far as possible, 
only one difficulty, whether caused by material or by tools, 
shall be encountered at a time. The general result aimed 
at is not the ability to do certain kinds of joinery or 
carpentry, but to give the pupils as wide a command as 
the available time allows over their material environment, 
by training the power to transform it by handwork to 
their own ends. This involves, and, indeed, really means, 
that they gain an appreciation of the adaptability of 
different kinds of wood to certain purposes, and of the 
suitability of certain forms of tools to perform certain 
kinds of operations. 

In dealing with various kinds of wood reference should 
constantly be made to the knowledge acquired 
Correlation i n the lessons on natural history, and when 
History. using any particular wood the pupil should 

associate with it the memory of the appear- 
ance of the living tree. The power to recognise various 
trees by their bark, twigs, leaves, and general appearance 
should now be supplemented by ability to distinguish 
various woods by the special texture of each. Thus the 
wood is not simply something to cut and saw and plan*', 
In it a piece of the real living world which man lias learned 
to use for his own purposes. 

But the direct question concerning the wood to be used 

for any constructive work is its appropriateness for just 

kind of work. Is it >!' tin- ri^lit Iianliu-ss or softness; 

will it splinter if fine work, such as carving, is wrought in 

ill it take a polish, if a polish is wished for, and, if so, 

will polish an<l (-"lour !>< just \vh;i1 i> \\.infcd? To some 


of these questions an answer can be given after examining 
the wood in the light of the purpose, but the answer to the 
others must be sought through actual trial. 

A scheme of work should show careful gradation in 

drawing, tools, and models constructed. 

Each must be progressive so that a new 

model involves new exercises in drawing 

and in the manipulation of tools. Each model should be 

complete in itself and not be a mere part in another, or 

simply an exercise, such as making a joint. Progression 

should be from easy to more difficult operations, from 

simpler to more complex productions. 

The first model should be made with as few tools as 

possible. The knife is the only single tool 

with which a model can be made from start 

to finish, and by using this tool in the construction of tin* 

earlier models the pupil learns much about the peculiarities 

of wood and notices the marked differences in structure 

between wood and the cardboard to which he has been 


JThe use of other tools should be introduced one at a 
time, though every new tool should, as far as possible, be 
used concurrently with those previously known. Each 
tool should be carefully examined, its construction noted, 
and the reason for that construction found in a considera- 
tion of the kind of operation it is intended to perform. 
Then the proper mode of holding and using it should be 
considered. Finally, the first crude attempts should be 
made to use it, and the pupils will realise how much easier 
it is to talk about doing a thing than actually to do it. 
No attempt should, however, be made to attain great pro- 
ficiency with any one tool before using the next. As soon 
as a pupil can, with a fair amount of ease and accuracy, saw 
off a piece of wood from a board, the plane, with its many 


different purposes, modes of using and results, should be 

hit roil need. The plane will take longer to master than 

tlu- saw, lut as soon as a pupil has attained a fair 

<ee of skill in its manipulation, he should begin to use 

the chisel. 

Throughout the course the pupil should be called upon 

\eivise every new step in knowledge by judging what 

form of .tool is best adapted to the work given him to do, 

which always, of course, should demand the use of no tools 

luit those df which he has learnt the functions. 

In e very part of the course carefulness of work and 
accuracy of finish are among the chief objects 
to be kept in view both by teacher and 
pupils. If pupils are allowed to form the habit of rest- 
ing content with only a moderate degree of accuracy one 
of the most important educational results of the work will 
be missed. At the same time it must In- remembered thai 
finished accuracy is 1 lie result of skill, and, therefore, its 
66 should l>e expected to increase as the pupil's skill 
develops. To expect the same acriiracy of finish from a 
Uier as max well he demanded towards the end of the 
course can only lead to disappointment of both teach r and 
taught. \\ hilst much waste of time and deadening of i it. 
by the over emphasis iriven t-> the purely mechaircal aspect 
..f the work will le an incidental result. The teacher 
>hould IK- satisfied, then, if throughout the, course even 
piece of work is as accurate as the worker can make it. 
rements. u>e of eye and st rai^l't -e<l 

'\el. ;iiid of touch to jlld-e whether 

-moot!,, use ,,f try-square to secure and l. lest ri-Jit 

angles should all be continuous. No defect should IM> 

hidden liy puttv or covered up in any other \\;i\. The 
result should stand out in it - l>;nv and honot truth as ju-t 
>\h,t it is ;i doxrr or le>- do>c .i|,j,r,,xinia1 ion to excellence. 


Handicraft, however, is not only executive skill. Its 
essential foundation is in the planning of 
- an wna t is fc be done. Such planning might 
conceivably be performed entirely mentally. 
But in practice the mental conception is put upon paper, 
and in teaching such a process is essential, as it is the only 
way in which the teacher can know whether the final con- 
struction embodies the original plan, or whether the plan 
is adapted to its purpose. 

As in all other branches of originative work, the process 
is one of simple imitation at first and of adapted imitation 
later. The pupil begins, then, by examining a finished 
object, and that this examination may be as thorough and 
effective as possible, it is well to have at first dissected 
models which he can actually take to pieces and put 
together again. He then makes careful drawings of it to 
scale. His drawings at first should be of front elevation 
and plan. At later stages side elevations and sections, and 
oblique or conventional isometric views should be made. 
After completing the drawing the pupil should proceed to 
make his model from it, and should be required to make 
his measurements on the wood as accurate as those on the 

After considerable practice he attains a kind of generic 
memory of the more common forms of plans and construc- 
tions, and he is able to adapt the remembered elements to 
designing a new construction adapted to meet a certain 
need. Thus he gains the power to design a model when 
only its uses are explained to him, as, for example, if he is 
required to fashion a box constructed to hold nails and 
screws in separate compartments, or a hanging bracket on 
which a lamp may be placed. He has then reached the 
fully constructive stage in which he both plans and 
< \> vutes, the drawings made in orthographic, oblique or 


isometric projection being the intermediary between his 
idea as conceived in thought ami his idea as actualised in 

In this, as in other forms of training skill, there is no 
need for us to draw out a detailed syllabus. 
Every competent teacher will prefer to plan 
his own. Moreover, a slavish copy of other schemes would 
in t be following out the principle of initiative which should 
be one of the objects of teaching and which should charac- 
terise tin- toucher or it will never mark the taught. No 
other material lends itself to such a variety of form and to 
such a variety of tool exercises as wood. 

In making his list of models, the teacher should take 
care that the articles are such as can be made entirely 
1>\ the pupils, that they can be used by the pupil either 
for himself or in his home, and that they shall tend to 
develop in him an idea of good shape. Such a list 
would, perhaps, include such models as: Penholder, seed- 
marker, rulers (round and flat), plant-pot sticks, finger 
plate, letter opener, paper knife; and models in which the 
(onini"iier modes of fastening and jointing would be 
iiu -oi -p< irate. 1, such as holders for keys, button-hooks, 
matches, watches, etc., money-box, pen and inkstand, 
letter-rack. knit'e-l>ox, box for shoe brushes, etc., etc. 

The work is most interesting in itself, as it leads to 

the production of a visible object which did not exist 

re. But obviously l>oth its interest and its value in 

leading tlu pupil into relations with the actual world are 

in. Teased if the ol.jects made are things of real use. A 

M which consists simply of joints and other elements 

iiction l>ut which never embodies those elements 

in real tilings fails to attain the purpose I'm- which it 

-IniiiM !' taught. 

It may U- helpful, 1 to illustrate the principles 


we have laid down by a brief consideration of two of the 
exercises which might appropriately find a place in the 
course. In preparing his scheme of work, the teacher of 
handicraft would 'analyse' each model, in order to see 
that it came in its proper order in the series, arranged in 
complexity and difficulty of tool exercises. 

The first model would probably l)e made entirely with 
the knife, and, in the scheme, the analysis would be some- 
thing like the following: 

Model I. Kound handle for paint-brush. 

Wood. Birch or yellow pine. 

Dimensions when finished. 4" X ". 

Tool used. Knife. 

Exercises. Long-cut in cutting to square, octagonal, and 
round t'<>rni; Cross-cut in making ends 'square' 
and in cutting to length. 

Object. Training of senses of touch and sight of 
accuracy and perseverance of muscles of fingers 
and hand. 

Having made careful dimensioned drawings, the pupils 
would be supplied with pieces of wood, previously cut to 
approximate si/.e by the 1<>a<-her, an<l suitable in all respects 
as to strain-lit ness of grain, hardness, etc. They would then 
make an attempt to cut one side of the wood perfectly 
level, using eyes, fingers, and straight-edge to test for 

Having succeeded in making a good surface, probably 
cutting up several pieces of wood in their attempts, the 
pupils would cut an adjacent side level, making it at right 
angles with the first or ' face ' side. When the face-side 
and edge are cut at right angles, the wood should be cut 
to width, and then to thickness. 

The model which now would be a square prism 
should next be cut octagonal, then round, cut to length 


and finally finished off with a small piece of glass-paper. It 
should not -be lost sight of that the pupil is proUiMy 
making his first attempt at cutting wood accurately with a 
knife, that his previous experience has been in cutting 
rar<ll>oard, and that he has many new difficulties to 

Some of these he tries to overcome by the liberal use of 

glasspaper. This should not be allowed, but accuracy of 

rutting must be insisted upon. For one model successfully 

made with irlasspaper there are more than fifty spoilt. 

When the pupil came to the construction of, say, a small 

I for a plant -vase, which would necessarily be placed 

tar MM in the series of models, the method of procedure 

w< mid be different. After securing from his teacher a few 

particulars as to dimensions, etc., the pupil should make a 

>k-t h of an original design for a plant-vase stand. 

\Vln-:i he has sketched one to his teacher's satisfaction, 
accurate dinicn-i'-neil drawings should be made before pro- 
ceeding to the construction. 

teacher's analysis might be : 
Model. Stand for plant- vase. 
I \ ' >od. Basswood . 

i 1' 6", thickness f", width of top 

New Tools. Mortice, chisel and mallet. 
N< <PS. Mortice and tenon: long sawing with 

rip-saw, and wave sawing with bnw-saw. 

Training of eye (beauty of form) ori-iiulit y 
of design self-reliance unis-les of arms ami < ' 
In rural <!: ln-iv tin- numU'r of ]>ujils in a 

school is not is not usually tounl 
<>X I"' li( ' Ilf t(> l -<i \i'l'' ;s expensi ,uip- 

meut as is possil*lc in town 'I'hr 

circumstances of each case shouM i i. -ivd. l*u 


object in view is the same, whether the teaching is given 
in town or in country the learning by doing and the 
active employment of the child's powers in securing some 
material result of interest to him. A modified course of 
instruction, in which the objects made have special fitness 
for the district, would include such things as seed-markers, 
plant-sticks, dibbles, shafts for hammers and axes, milking 
stools, handles for spades. The tools required for such a 
course are neither numerous nor costly, and in many dis- 
tricts the timber would be at hand. 

22. When a pupil has received instruction in woodwork 

during two or three years, a year's course in 

Metal Craftin metal work ^ tenefit him greatly. The 
course should proceed by careful gradation 
from wire-work and soldering to working in sheet 
metal and forging. It would include such models as 
wire puzzles, bent iron brackets, coat suspenders, 
meat hooks, angle irons, nuts and bolts, hinges, staple 
and hasp, and other simply formed objects in common 

23. In conclusion, we would repeat that the object of in- 

troducing handicraft in wood or metal into 
Han dicraft* f scnools is an educational one, and that its 

value depends on the teacher. A mere 
mechanic with no grasp of educational principles will 
render the course of little or no educative value. It is not 
the production of objects by rule of thumb that is wanted 
but the development of certain qualities in the pupil by 
bringing him into certain effective relations with his sur- 
roundings. And for this purpose a real teacher is needed. 
Of course he must understand woodwork, but he must also 
understand education and teaching, and his grasp of the 
latter should be sufficiently profound to take up into itself 
his knowledge of the former. 


"24. Although not directly concerned with the apprehen- 
sion and construction of form, yet, as one of 
Gardens ^ e most valuable modes of handicraft for 

rural schools, school gardening may here 
receive a brief mention. In school gardening the pupils 
learn to perform in an intelligent manner a class of 
operations wliich play a large part in country life, and 
which may be made both profoundly interesting and 
of great physical benefit. The high educational value of 
the cultivation of a garden and the close and intimate 
connection that can be established between such work and 
natural history is shown by the success which has attended 
this form of instruction in Sweden, Swit/erland, Austria, 
and Germany, and in a few cases in England. 

The practical instruction would be given chiefly in 
the spring and autumn. The work during spring would 
mil trace the preparation of the ground, planting of fruit 
trees, vegetable growing and flower culture. 

During autumn there would be the necessary attention 
to the fruit trees and bushes binding young trees, propping 
them, and noting the diseases to which the trees, fruit, or 
leaves are subject the gathering of seeds and the taking 
up and potting of plants which must pass the winter under 

In conclusion we will repeat that the essential thin 
secure, whether in town or country, is that handwork. 
whatever be its form. >hould alway> I..- l.,,th li.-.idUork 
and heartwork as well. The tea -her \\lio secures this may 
well rest contont. 


The following books are recommended to the teacher : 
Liberty Tadd : New Methods in Edu- 
cation 8/6 (Low, Marston 

& Co.). 
(A full and suggestive treatment of the whole subject.) 

Unwin : A Manual of Clay Modelling ... * 3/- (Longmans). 
(Deals practically with the modelling of natural forms.) 

Holland : Clay Modelling 3/6 (Giim). 

(Deals practically with conventional art forms on tiles.) 
Morris : Complete Drawing Course. 

Parti 4/6 (Longmans), 

Moore and Clarke : Report on Methods 
of Teaching Drawing and Designs in 

Paris Schools 3d. (Southwood, 

Smith & Co.). 
Board of Education : Suggestions, pp. 65-9 8d. (Wymuu). 

Rich : PajM-r Sloyd 3/6 (Ginn). 

Hodson : Educational Sloyd 2/6 (Philip & Son). 

Educational Sloyd, by an Inspector of 

Schools 4/6 (Philip & Son). 

Holman : Hand and Eye Training ... I/- (Clarkson & 

(Jrillitlis, MJIMC!, 
Wright : School and Garden 9d. (Cas.sell). 



1. THE aim of the teacher of needlework should be to 

develop in the pupils the power of coping 

Teachin f with tlie actual needs of life in tlie matter of 
Needlework. dress. Therefore the methods and processes 
taught in the school must be such as are 
applicable in the home life, and the pupils must know 
when and how to apply them. This knowledge demands 
that tin- irirl shall have acquired a considerable degree of 
manual skill during the school training. She must also 
have learned to exercise her practical judgment, and to act 
upon her own initiative. The needlework teaching must 
therefore follow those lines which will give fullest scope 
for the development <>t' these powers. 

2. In the first place, the manual skill desired is that 

which can ! applied in the stress of a busy 
h<>me life. \Ve will consider ln-'u-Hv the con- 
cept itn <>1 skill which is involved in each of 
the three leading branches of school needlework. These 
I. ranches are 

the stitches employed iii u'annents; 
(6) the cutting out and making of garments ; 
(c) the n-pair of ^armt'iits, h<.usehold linen, etc. 

! !- M.-hill-, M.A. 
PB. TO. 529 :.M 


In the case of the stitches the teacher should be satisfied 

with quick regular working, such as causes 

Necessary no un( ^ ue strain upon the eyes. Counting 

threads is a reprehensible practice, though 

fine and more delicate work may be introduced into the 

syllabus for the older pupils, for motor memory has then 

reduced the difficulty of fine workmanship. Ornamental 

stitches may be included with advantage because the girls 

take pleasure in them and they develop good taste and a 

responsive touch. 

The need for the attainment of skill in cutting out and 
making garments is still greater, since sewing machines 
have now so largely replaced hand sewing. Too frequently 
teachers have planned, cut out, and tacked all the garments 
made by the children, who thus are quite unaccustomed to 
the use of scissors, and the handling of material. The 
pupils should, whenever possible, both cut out and put 
together the garments chosen for the year, as well as carry 
out the sewing of them. Then clumsy manipulation will 
gradually give place to dexterity and confidence. One plan 
adopted by a head teacher known to the writer is that of 
allowing the classes after the third year to cut out and fix 
for the younger children when necessary. 

Thirdly, skill in the repairing of garments can only be 
attained by giving the children opportunities of dealing 
with actual worn garments, where they will meet with 
real difficulties. 

One method often advocated as a means of training 
manual dexterity is that of providing 
Tuning Skill mecnan i ca l aids, as, for example, dotted 
calico. To teach the button-hole in this 
way is surely in direct opposition to true educational prin- 
ciples. Children in the fourth year ought to be able to 
dispense with any such help. So too, the use of diagonals 


in placing a patch is a mere temporary ai<l which cannot 
be applied in the case of real garments. The use of rulers 
in making tucks and pleats is also undesirable. Dexterity 
can only l>e trained by allowing hand and eye to assist one 
another without tin 1 intervention of devices which must 
later be discontinued. 

The teacher's chief instrument in directing the move- 
ments of the pupils is frequent demonstration on enlarged 
Miens. This enlarged apparatus should, as nearly as 
possible, be of the same material as the children's specimens. 
l' -niplete sets of such apparatus are in use in many schools. 
MTS will be wise in choosing for demonstration pur- 
poses material which does not confuse by a multiplicity of 
holes. Often a larger piece of the material given to the 
children is most effective. Large needles and very coarse 
cotton are obtainable, and thus the whole process can quite 
easily be shown to a class. To pin up the apparatus on 
the blackboard is convenient as regards its actual mani- 
pulation, which must be done skilfully and readily if it is 
to produce the desired results in the class. Demonstration 
frames would be much more useful than they often are, if 
they contained a larger area. In any case, by subdividing 
large classes, teachers will greatly add to the value of the 
demons! ration, which must be clearly seen by each child. 

A very important addition to tin, demonstration is the 
use of good diagrams. Stages in a process can be repre- 
sented by a drawing, whereas the needle- ami sewing cotton 
cannot !. left in the exact position which demand 

hildren's part. As a rule the teacher should make 

liagram after she has deni..n>trafed the diiliculty, so 

i lie children clearly see its reference. The drawing 

should bo lM>ld. large, and simple, the stitches lew and 

very much enlarged. Coloured chalks are very helpful 



Sometimes a more elaborate diagram requires preparation 
beforehand, as, for example, diagrams illustrating the 
position of the needles in knitting, or of the thumb and 
stroking needle for gathering. These will amply repay the 
teacher for the trouble taken in preparing them. Individual 
mistakes can be corrected by the pupils themselves with 
such drawings confronting them, and the amount of in- 
dividual teaching and repeated demonstration is tints 
minimised. Sometimes the children may reproduce in a 
diagram a point just demonstrated, and in this way revise it. 
Finally, instruction should be given in those minor details 
of working which tend so much to produce clean, smart 
results. The ways of placing fixing pins and threads, the 
least cumbersome modes of holding work, the neatest 
starting points, are cases in point. Thus the children may 
profit by the experience of others. 

3. Practical judgment, self-reliance and initiative, can 
only be trained by allowing the children to 
Training of make stitches and to work exercises which 
Judg^Tnt and are reaUv rec l lli red in garments, and to apply 
Initiative. these to garments. They should be intro- 
duced to the various stitches and exercises as 
the garments to be taught require them, so that they 
realise the practical value of their work. Again, children 
should not merely cut out garments from dimensions and 
shapes given to them by the teacher. The pattern to be 
taught should be studied in its relation to actual figures, 
and to the purpose of the garment. Thus the children 
will understand what regulates the shaping and construc- 
tion of garments. Their sense of proportion will be trained, 
and they will depend not merely upon their memory but 
upon their power of reasoning. 

The principle of all constructive lessons is involved 
here, namely, that the pupil should first form a clear idea 


of the result wanted, if necessary by actually handling 
some completed instance of it, and then proceed to obtain 
thut ivsult. Practical judgment can only be really de- 
veloped by allowing the child plenty of opportunity for 
reiving upon her own power of devising methods. It is 
imt enough that she should recognise the suitability of 
those proposed by other people. Children will not always 
h;ivt' patterns at hand, or older people to give advice. When 
placed in new circumstances they must be able to act on 
their own suggestions. Therefore, the mode of teaching 
should gradually progress until in the end the pupils are 
as largely as possible independent of definite instruction. 
This general advance may be briefly discussed at this point. 

The form o