How to Teach Religion

THE LECTURE METHOD

The lecture method, if followed continuously, is a poor way of teaching. Even in telling stories to the younger children, the skillful teacher leads the pupils to tell the stories back to her and the class. Mere listening gets to be dull work, and the teacher who does all the reciting himself must expect lack of interest and inattention.

There can be no doubt that many teachers talk too much themselves compared with the part taken by their pupils. It is much easier for the teacher to go over the lesson himself, bringing out its incidents, explaining its meanings, and applying its lessons, than to lead the class, by means of well-directed questions, to accomplish these things by their own answers and discussions. Yet it is a common experience, especially with children, that we like best any program, recitation, or exercise, in which we ourselves have had an active part. And it is also from the lesson in which we have really participated that we carry away the most vivid and lasting impressions.

The lecture method not for general use.—Every teacher should therefore consider, when making his lesson plan, just what his own part is to be in the presentation of material. Some latitude must be allowed, of course, for circumstances which may arise in the recitation bringing up points which may need elaboration or explanation. But he should know in a general way what material he is to bring in, what applications he will emphasize, and what illustrations he will use. He should not trust to the inspiration of the moment, nor allow himself to be led off into a discussion that monopolizes all the time and deprives the class of participation. More than one church-school class has failed to hold the interest, if not the attendance, of its members because the teacher mistook his function and formed the habit of turning expositor or preacher before his class. The overtalkative teacher should learn to curb this tendency, or else give way to one who brings less of himself and more of his pupils to bear upon the lesson.

This does not mean that the teacher shall never lecture or talk to his class. Indeed, the teacher who does not have a message now and then for his pupils is not qualified to guide their spiritual development. It means, rather, that lecturing must not become a habit, and that on the whole it should be used sparingly with all classes of children. It means also that all matter presented to the class by the teacher himself should be well prepared; that it should be carefully organized and planned, so that its meaning will be clear and its lesson plain, and so that time will not be wasted in its presentation. It will be a safe rule for the teacher to set for himself not to come before his class with a talk that is not as well prepared as he expects his minister to have his sermon. And why not! The recitation hour should mean at least as much to the church class as the sermon hour means to the congregation.

THE QUESTION-AND-ANSWER METHOD

Skill in questioning lies at the basis of most good teaching of children. Good questioning stimulates thought, brings out new meanings, and leads the mind to right conclusions. Poor questioning leaves the thought unawakened, fails to arouse interest and attention, and results in poor mastery and faulty understanding. To the uninitiated it appears easy to ask questions for others to answer. But when we become teachers and undertake to use the question as an instrument of instruction we find that it is much harder to ask questions than to answer them, for not only must the questioner know the subject and the answer to each question better than his pupils, but he must be able constantly to interpret the minds of his pupils in order to discover their understanding of the problem and to know what questions next to ask.

Questions slavishly dependent on the text.—Not infrequently one finds a teacher who uses questioning solely to test the knowledge of the pupils on the lesson text. Probably the worst form of this kind of questioning is that of following the printed questions of the lesson quarterly, the pupils having their lesson sheets open before them and looking up the answer to each question as it is asked.

The following questions are taken from a widely used junior quarterly, the Bible text being Luke 10. 25-37: "Who wanted to try Jesus? What did he ask? What did Jesus say? What reply was made? What questions did the lawyer ask? How did Jesus answer him? What is such a story called? What is the name of this parable? Where was the man going? Who met him? How did they treat him? What did they take from him? Where did they leave him?" No one of these questions appeals to thought or imagination. All are questions of sheer fact, with none of the deeper and more interesting meanings brought. All of them may be answered correctly, and the child be little the wiser religiously. Such a method of teaching cannot do other than deaden the child's interest in the Bible, create in him an aversion to the lesson hour of the church school, and fail of the whole purpose of religious education. The teacher must be able to use living questions, and not be dependent on a dead list of faulty questions embalmed in print.

Questions arising spontaneously from the topic.—One who does not know his lesson well enough so that he can ask the necessary questions practically without reference even to the text, let alone referring to the printed questions, or asking questions in the words of the text, is not yet ready to teach the lesson. In order to successful teaching there must be a constant interchange of response between teacher and class at every moment throughout the recitation. This is impossible if the teacher must stop to read the text of the lesson, or take her eyes and attention away from the class to look up the question which is to come next. All such breaks of thought are fatal to interest and attention on the part of the class.

As suggested in an earlier chapter, the teacher should have prepared a list of pivotal questions as a part of her lesson plan. With these at hand there should be no necessity for reference to the printed lesson to find questions during the recitation period. Let the teacher who is accustomed to slavish dependence on the lesson text for his questions really master his lesson, and then declare his independence of tread-mill questioning; he will be surprised at the added satisfaction and efficiency that come to his teaching.

The principle of unity.—Questions that really teach must follow some plan of unity or continuity. Each succeeding question must grow out of the preceding question and its answer, and all put together must lead in a definite direction toward a clear aim or goal which the teacher has in mind. One of the serious faults of the questions quoted above from the lesson quarterly is that they lack unity and purpose. Each question is separate from all the others. No question leads to the ones which follow, nor does the whole list point to any lesson or conclusion at the end. Such questioning can result only in isolated scraps of information. A series of questions lacking unity and purpose resembles a broom ending in many straws, instead of being like a bayonet ending in a point: and who would not prefer a bayonet to a broom as a weapon of offense!

The principle of clearness.—The good questioner makes his questions clear and definite so that they can not be misunderstood. That this is not always accomplished is proved by the fact that a child who is unable to answer a question when it is put in one form may answer it perfectly when it is asked in different phrasing. The teacher always needs to make certain that the question is fully comprehended, for it is evident that an answer cannot exceed the understanding of the question in clearness.

To be clear, a question must be free from obscure wording. One primary teacher, seeking to show how each animal is adapted to the life it must live, asked the class, "Why has a cat fur and a duck feathers?" Just what did she mean for the child to answer? Did she mean to inquire why a cat has fur instead of feathers, and a duck feathers instead of fur, or did she mean to ask why each has its own particular coating regardless of the other? Another teacher asked, "Why did Jesus's parents go up to Jerusalem when Jesus was twelve years old?" Did he mean to ask why they went when Jesus was just at this age, or did he mean to ask why they went at all, the age of Jesus being incidental? One can only guess at his meaning, hence the answer could at best be but a guess.

Questions to be within the learner's grasp.—If questions are to be clear to the child they must deal with matter within his grasp. These questions are taken from an intermediate quarterly: "Why was the New Testament written? What was the purpose of the book of Revelation? Fit the epistle of Paul into the story of his life. What is meant by inspiration? What are the reasons for calling the Bible the most wonderful book in the world?" These questions are all clear enough so far as their wording is concerned, but they belong to the college or theological seminary age instead of to the intermediate age. While our questions should make our pupils think, they must not go over their heads, for one does not commonly think on a question whose very meaning is beyond his grasp!

Some questions lack definiteness because several correct answers could be given to the question. Here are a few such: What did Paul claim concerning one of his epistles? What did Moses do when he came down from the mountain? What were the priests of the temple required to have? What happened when Jesus was crucified? What of John the Baptist? What about Ruth and Naomi? What did Judas become? No one of these questions asks any definite thing. To answer any of them the pupil must guess at the particular thing the teacher has in mind. Many answers may be given to each question which are as correct and which answer the question as well as the answer the teacher seeks from the pupil. Such questioning comes either from lack of clearness and definiteness in the teacher's thinking, with a consequent uncertainty as what he really does mean to ask, or else from a mental laziness which shrinks from the effort necessary to formulate the question definitely.

Questions should stimulate thought.—Questions should be thought-provoking. Usually it is a mistake to ask questions that can be answered, by a simple Yes or No, though there are occasions when this may be done. For example, children will not be required to think when asked such questions as, Was Moses leader of the Israelites? or Did Jesus want his disciples to keep children away from him? But they will require thought to answer Yes or No to such questions as, Should Esther have asked that Haman be hanged? or, Can God forgive us for a wrong act if we are not penitent?

Leading questions, or questions that suggest the answer, do not encourage thought. To ask, Do you not think that God is pained when we do wrong? or What ought you to say in return when some one has done you a favor? is to leave the child himself too little to do in answering. The alternative question, or the question that simply allows the choice between two suggested possibilities is also fruitless so far as demanding thought is concerned. In a question like, Was Paul a Gentile or was he a Jew? the bright child can usually tell from the teacher's inflection how to answer. In any case he will run an even chance of giving the right answer from sheer guessing.

The order of questioning.—It is a mistake to ask questions in serial order, so that each child knows just when he is to be called upon. This method invites carelessness and inattention. There should be no set order, nor should a child who has just been called upon feel that he is now safe from further questioning. The element of uncertainty as to when the next question will come is a good incentive to alertness. The pupil who shows signs of mischief or inattention may well become the immediate mark for a question, and thereby be tided past the danger point.

Usually the question should be addressed to the entire class, and then a pause of a few seconds ensue before the one who is to answer is designated. Care must be taken, however, not to wait too long between asking the question and calling the name of the one expected to answer, for attention and curiosity quickly fall away, and time and interest are lost and the recitation becomes slow.

The reception of answers.—The teacher's reception of the child's answer is almost as important as the manner of asking the question. First of all, the teacher must be interested in the answer. This interest must be real, and must show in the manner. Not to look into the eyes of the child who is answering is to fail to pay the courtesy due one who is conversing with us; it is not only bad manners but worse pedagogy. The interested, sympathetic eye of the teacher has a wonderful power of encouragement and stimulus to the child, while an attitude of indifference on the part of the teacher is at once fatal to his enthusiasm. One of the besetting sins of many teachers is to repeat the pupils' answers after them. This habit probably has its rise in mental unreadiness on the part of the teacher, who repeats what the child has just said while getting ready to ask the next question. Besides being a great waste of time, the repeating of answers is discourteous, and is a source of distraction, and annoyance to pupils.

Finally, we may say that good questioning on the part of the teacher leads to questions on the part of the pupils. The relations between teacher and class always should be such, that the children, feel free to ask questions on any points of the lesson, and they should be encouraged to do so. The teacher must have the tact and skill, however, not to be led away from the topic by irrelevant questions nor to be required to waste time by discussing unimportant points which may be brought in. It is to be feared that valuable time is sometimes lost in adult classes in discussing controversial questions that ought not to have been asked.

THE STORY METHOD

The use of the story method of instruction has been mentioned many times in the course of our discussion. It will still be worth while, however, to note a few of the principles upon which the successful telling of stories depends.

First of all, a story is—just a story! It is not an argument, nor an explanation, not a description, nor a lecture in disguise. A story is a narrative of a series of events, which may be either real or imaginary. These events are so related as to form a closely connected unity from beginning to end, and they are of such nature as to appeal to imagination, interest, and emotion more than to the intellect. The successful handling of the story depends on two chief factors: (1) the plan or arrangement of the story itself, and (2) skill in telling the story.

The story itself.—The story must not be too long, or interest will weaken and attention will flag. It must have an interesting beginning, so that attention and anticipation are aroused from the very first sentence. "Once upon a time…" "A long time ago when the fairies…" "There once lived a king who…"—these all contain a hint of mystery or of interesting possibilities certain to invite response from children. The commonplace beginning is illustrated in a story in a primary leaflet which starts, "There was once a mother, who loved her child as all mothers do." There is no invitation here to imagination or anticipation, and the evident attempt to enforce a moral truth in the opening sentence detracts from its effectiveness.

The major characters of the story should be introduced in the opening sentences. The story should possess a close-knit unity, and not admit incidental or supplemental characters or events that play no direct part in the sequel. It must be so planned as to proceed to a climax, and this climax should be reached without unnecessary deviations and wanderings. We all know that type of story in which the main point is all but lost in a multiplicity of unnecessary details. On the other hand, points necessary to the climax must not be omitted. The climax may be the end of the story, or an ending may be provided following the climax. In either case the ending should leave the mind of the listener at rest as to the outcome. That is to say, there should remain no mystery or uncertainty or unpleasant feeling of incompleteness. The ending of a story should be as carefully phrased as its beginning. Even if the story has a sad ending, which is usually not best in children's stories, it should have some element in it which makes such a conclusion inevitable, and so leaves the mind in a sense satisfied.

Guiding principles.—The rules to guide in planning the story itself may, then, be stated as follows:

1. Decide on the truth to be conveyed, and make the story lead up to this.

2. Use great care to compel interest and anticipation through an effective beginning.

3. Plan to have the body of the story reasonably brief, and to make the main truth stand out in a climax. Eliminate all complications or irrelevant matter that does not aid in leading up to the climax. Elaborate and stress all features that help in making the impression to be attained in the climax.

4. Make the ending such as to leave in the mind a feeling that the story was satisfactory and complete.

Telling the story.—The effective story must be told. It cannot be read without losing something of spontaneity and attractiveness. It cannot even be committed to memory and repeated; for here also is lacking something of the living glow and appeal that come from having the words spring fresh and warm from the mind that is actually thinking and feeling them. Most story-tellers find that it pays to work out carefully and commit to memory the opening and closing sentences of a story; the phrasing is so important here that it should not be left to chance. But the body of the story is better given extemporaneously even if the wording is not as perfect as it could be made by reading or reciting the matter.

Before trying to tell a story before his class, the teacher should rehearse it several times. Nothing but practice will give the ease, certainty, and spontaneity necessary to good story-telling. Even professional story-tellers realize that they do not tell a new story well until they have told it a number of times. Perhaps this is in part because one never enjoys telling a story until he is sure he can tell it well, and so get a response from his listeners. And one never tells a story really well unless he himself enjoys both the story and its telling. One never brings the full effectiveness of a story to bear on his hearers unless he himself enters fully into its appreciation, and moves himself while stirring the emotions of those who listen.

The right atmosphere required.—Second in importance only to preparing himself for the telling of the story is the preparing of the class to listen. The right atmosphere of thought, attitude and feeling should be created for the story before it is begun. A primary teacher was about to begin a story whose purpose was to show how God cares for the birds by giving them feathers to keep them warm, wings for swift flying, and cozy nests for their homes, when suddenly a little bird flew in through the classroom window and was killed before the class by dashing against the wall. Of course the right atmosphere for her story was then impossible, and she wisely left it for another time.

The approach to the story can be made by some question or suggestion relating to the pupils' own experience, by a sentence or two of explanation, or by an illustration dealing with matters familiar to the class. But whatever device is used, the introduction should prepare the minds of the class to receive the story by turning their thought in the direction which the story is to take. It is also important that any new terms or unfamiliar situations which are to be used in the story, and which might not be understood by the class, shall be cleared up before the story is begun.

Arts and devices of the story-teller.—The skillful story-teller will soon learn to use certain arts and devices to make the telling more effective. One such device is the use of direct discourse; that is, instead of telling about the giants, the fairies, the animals, give them human speech and let them speak for themselves, like the bear in Little Red Riding Hood. Another effective device is that of repeating in the course of the story certain important words or phrases until from this repetition they stand out and become emphasized. Some of the best story-tellers make effective use of pauses, thus creating a situation of curiosity and suspense in the minds of the listeners. The pause must be neither too long nor too short, nor can any tell just how long it ought to be except from the response of the children themselves, which the teacher must be able to sense accurately and unfailingly. Much may be added to the effect of stories by skillful use of the various arts of expression, such as facial expression, voice tone, quality, and inflection, and gesture. The use of mimicry, imitation, and impersonation is also very effective if this ability comes naturally to the one who attempts to use it, but these would better be omitted than poorly done.

Good stories sometimes lose much of their effectiveness by having the moral stated at the end, or by having an attempt at moralizing too evident in the telling of the story. A story which has a lesson inherent in the story itself will teach its own moral if it is well told. If the truth to be conveyed is not clear to the child from the story, it will hardly appeal to him by having it tacked on at the end.

We have, then, come to the end of our brief study of the teaching of religion. We have seen some of its principles and methods, and have discovered these at work in various illustrations and applications. It now remains to realize that these are all to be found in brief epitome in the work of the Great Teacher. For Jesus was first of all a teacher, rather than a preacher. And as a teacher he supplied the model which anticipated all modern psychology and scientific pedagogy, and gave us in his concrete example and method a standard which the most skillful among us never wholly attain. While we may love Jesus as a friend, come to him as a comforter and helper, seek to follow him as a guide, and worship him as a Saviour, it will be well for us now and then momentarily to place these relations in the background and study him just as a teacher.

Jesus possessed an attractive, inspiring, compelling personality. People naturally came to him with their questions and problems. His quick sympathy, ready understanding, and unerring insight invited friendship, confidence, and devotion. He was ever sure of his "great objective," and whether he was teaching his disciples stupendous truths about the kingdom of God, or whether he was pointing the wayward woman the way to a reconstructed life, the welfare of the living soul before him was his controlling thought. Jesus had a true sense of the value of a life, and no life was too humble or too unpromising for him to lavish upon it all the wealth of his interest and all the power of his sympathy and helpfulness. He did not feel that his time was poorly spent when he was teaching small groups, and many of the choicest gems of his teaching were given to a mere handful of earnest listeners seated at his feet.

In all his teaching Jesus manifested a deep reverence for vital truth. He told his disciples, "The truth shall make you free." He was never afraid of truth, but accepted it reverently, even when it ran counter to accepted authority. Nor did Jesus ever lose time or opportunity in teaching trivial and unessential matters to his hearers; the knowledge he gave them was always of such fruitful nature that they could at once apply it to their living, Jesus's teaching carried over; it showed its effect in changed attitudes of life, in new purposes, compelling ideals, and great loyalties and devotions. Out of a band of commonplace fishermen and ordinary men he made a company of evangelists and reformers whose work and influence changed the course of civilization. Every person who responded to his instruction felt the glow of a new ambition and the desire to have a part in the great mission. Thus the teaching of Jesus entered into the actual life and conduct of his pupils. The truths he taught did not lie dormant as so much mere attainment of knowledge. They took root and blossomed into action, into transformed lives, and into heroic deeds of kindly service. The constant keynote and demand of Jesus's teaching was shown forth in his, "He that heareth these sayings of mine and doeth them"; he was never satisfied without the doing.