A Practical Enquiry into the Philosophy of Education

The connection of these circumstances, with the principle in education which we are at present endeavouring to illustrate, may not to some be very apparent. We shall therefore take another example from a circumstance similar to what occurs every day in ordinary life, and in which the principle, in the hands of Nature, is abundantly conspicuous. In the example we are here to give, she forms the several steps of the classification in a number of hearers by once reading a subject, very similar to what she does successively in the mind of one individual by repeated readings.

Let us then suppose a teacher with two or three hundred pupils, including every degree of mental capacity, from the youngest child who is able to understand, up to his own classical assistant; and that he reads to them the history of Joseph as given in the Book of Genesis. Let us also suppose, that they all give him their best attention, and that they all hear the narrative for the first time. Such an experiment, let it be observed, has its parallel every day, in the church, in the class room, and in the seminary; and similar effects to those we are about to describe invariably take place in each of them.

When the teacher has read and concluded this lengthened exercise, it will be found, that no two individuals among his hearers have acquired the same amount of knowledge. Some will have received and retained more of the circumstances, and some less, but no two, strictly speaking, will be alike. Those whose minds were incapable of connecting the several parts of the narrative into a whole, will retain what they have received in disjointed groups and patches, – episodes, as it were, in the narrative, – without being able very clearly to perceive its general design. This class, upon whom the principle of association chiefly has been at work, we leave out, and confine ourselves to the state of knowledge possessed by those who are in a greater or less degree capable of classification, and of taking some cognisance of the narrative as a connected whole.

Among this latter class, some will have retained no more than the bare outline of the history, interspersed with groupings, as in the younger children. They will remember little more than that Joseph was at first a boy in his father's house; – that he was afterwards a slave, and in prison; – and at last, a great man and a governor. Here the whole history is divided into three distinct heads, or eras, – the first branch of an analytical table of the whole story, from one or other of which all the other particulars, of whatever kind, must of necessity take their rise, and branch off in their natural order. An advanced class of the auditors will have retained some of the more obvious circumstances connected with each of these three great divisions, as well as the divisions themselves. They will not only remember that Joseph was a boy in his father's house, but they will also be able to remember the more prominent subdivisions of the narrative regarding him while there; such as his father's partiality, his dreams, and his brothers' hatred. The second great division will be recollected as including the particulars of his being sold, his serving in Potiphar's house, and his conduct in prison; and the third division will be remembered as containing his appearance before Pharoah, his laying up corn, his conduct to his brothers, and his reception of his father and family. These subdivisions, it will at once be perceived, form the second branch of a regular analytical table, each of which has sprung from, and is intimately connected with, some one or other of the three great divisions forming the first branch, of which the "History of Joseph" is the comprehensive root.

In like manner, a third class of the pupils, whose minds have been better cultivated, and whose memories are more retentive, will not only remember all this, but they will also remember, in connection with each of these subdivisions, many of the more specific events included in, or springing from them, and which carry forward this regular analytical table one step farther. As for example, under the subdivision entitled "Joseph's conduct to his brethren," they will remember the "detention of Simeon," – "the feast in the palace," – "the scene of the cup in the sack," and "Joseph's making himself known." Even these again might be subdivided into their more minute circumstances, as a fourth, or even a fifth branch, if necessary, all of which might be exactly delineated upon paper, as a regular analytical table of the history of Joseph.

Here, then, we have an example of Nature herself dividing an audience into different classes, and that by one and the same operation, – by one reading, – forming in each class part of a regular analytical table of the whole history, each class being one step in advance of the other. The first has the foundation of the whole fabric broadly and solidly laid; and it is worthy of remark, that there is not one of the ideas acquired by the most talented of the hearers, that is not strictly and regularly derived from some one or other of the three general divisions possessed by the first and the least advanced; and any one of the ideas may be regularly traced back through the several divisions to the root itself. The additional facts possessed by the second class, are nothing more than a more full developement of the circumstances remembered by the first; and those obtained by the third, are but a more extensive developement of the facts remembered by the second.

This being the state of the several classes into which Nature divides every audience, it is of importance to trace the means which she employs for the purpose of advancing each, and of ultimately completing the analysis; or, in other words, perfecting the knowledge of the narrative, in each individual mind. This is equally beautiful, and equally simple. It is, if we may be allowed the expression, by a regular system of building. The foundation being laid, and the frame-work of the whole being erected, in the knowledge of the great general outline, confusion is ever after completely prevented. Every piece of information connected with the history, which may be afterwards received, has a specific place provided for it. It must belong to some one or other of the three great divisions; and it is there inserted as a part of the general building. It is now remembered in its connection, till all the circumstances, – the whole of the information, – gradually, and perhaps distantly received, complete the narrative.

To follow out this plan of Nature regularly, as in a school education, the method must be exceedingly obvious; for if the first class, by once hearing the chapters read, have received merely the outline, – the frame-work of the narrative, – it must be obvious, that when this has by reflection become familiar, a second reading would enable them to fill up much of this outline, by which they would be on a par with the second. Another reading would, in like manner, add to the second, and form a third; and so forth of all the others. Each reading would add more and more to the knowledge of the pupil; and yet, every idea communicated would be nothing more than a fuller developement of the original outline, – the frame-work, – the skeleton of the story which he had acquired by the first reading. By successive readings, therefore, the first class will take the place of the second, the second of the third, and so on to the end. This is Nature's uniform method of perfecting her pupils in any branch of connected knowledge; – a method which, therefore, it should be the object of the Educationist to understand, and closely to imitate.

From the cases which we have in this chapter supposed as examples, there are several important practical inferences to be derived, to which we shall here very briefly advert.

In the first place, we are led to infer, from all the cases brought into notice, that every kind of external force, or precipitation in education, is abhorrent to Nature. In each of the cases supposed, we have a remarkable exhibition of the calm serenity of Nature's operations in the education of the young. For instance, in the last case supposed, the children all listened, – they all heard the same words, – the mental food was the same to each, however diversified their abilities might be; and it was indiscriminately offered in the same form to all, although all were not equally prepared to receive and digest it. The results accordingly were, in fact, as various as the number of the persons present. And yet, notwithstanding of all this, there was no hurry, no confusion, no attempt to stretch the mind beyond its strength. Each individual, according to his capacity, laid hold of as much as his mind could receive, and silently abandoned the remainder. – But if there had been any external urgency or force employed, to compel the child to accomplish more than his mind was capable of, this serenity and composure would have been destroyed; irritation, and confusion, and mental weakness, would have been the consequence; and altogether, matters would not have been made better, but worse, by the attempt.

Another inference, which we think may legitimately be drawn from the above examples, is this, that although Nature prompts the child silently to throw off or reject that which the mind at the time cannot receive, yet it would be better for the child if no more had been pressed upon him than he was capable of receiving. The very rejection of any portion of the mental food presented for acceptance, must in some measure tend to dissipate the mind, and exhaust its strength. This we think is demonstrated by the fact, that the child had to listen for an hour, and yet retained on his memory no more than experience shews us could have been much more successfully communicated in five minutes.

This leads us to another remark, almost equally important; which is, that the want of classification among the children, will not only hurt them, but tend to waste the time, and unnecessarily to exhaust the strength of the teacher. The teacher's success with any one child, is not to be estimated by the pains he takes, or the extent of his labour, but by the amount of knowledge actually retained by the child. To employ an hour's labour, therefore, to communicate that knowledge which could with much better effect be given in five minutes, is both unreasonable and improper; and every one who will for a moment think on the subject must see, that a lesson, which in that short space of time conveyed the whole of the knowledge that the pupils had been able to pick up during the hour's exercise, would leave the teacher eleven-twelfths of his time to benefit the other classes. The nurseryman follows this plan with his trees, and with evident success, both in saving time, and room, and labour. When he sows his acorns, one square yard will contain more plants than will ultimately occupy an acre. It is only as they increase in growth, that they are thinned out and transplanted; and such should be the case in communicating knowledge to children. To attempt to teach the whole history at once, is like sowing the whole acre with acorns, and thinning them out during a quarter of a century. The loss of seed in this case is the least of the evils; for the ground would be robbed of its strength, nine-tenths of it would be rendered unnecessarily useless during a large portion of the time; and much of the anxiety, and care, and labour of the nurseryman would be thrown away. Ultimately he would find, that of the many thousands of oaks he had sowed, he had been able to rear no more than the acre could carry. By following out this principle in education, and giving the child as much as he can receive, and no more, of the whole series of truths to be communicated, his mind, at the close of the exercise, will be much more vigorous, the ideas received will be much better understood, more firmly rivetted upon the memory, and much more at the command of the will, while the quantity of knowledge really communicated, is at least equal in amount. – The only thing indeed that renders a contrary plan of procedure even tolerable to a child, is the wise provision of Nature, by which she induces him to throw off, with some degree of ease, the superfluous matter; but had the reception and retention of the whole by each child been demanded by the teacher, the very attempt to do so on the part of the pupil, would not only have been irritating and burdensome, but it would have been extremely hurtful to the mind, by stretching its powers beyond its strength.