The first test will be to find whether the name is still a.s.sociated in the child"s mind with the object. She must allow the necessary time to elapse, letting a short period of silence intervene between the lesson and the test. Then she may ask the child, p.r.o.nouncing slowly and very clearly the name or the adjective she has taught: "Which is _smooth_?
Which is _rough_?"
The child will point to the object with his finger, and the teacher will know that he has made the desired a.s.sociation. But if he has not done this, that is, if he makes a mistake, _she must not correct him_, but must suspend her lesson, to take it up again another day. Indeed, why correct him? If the child has not succeeded in a.s.sociating the name with the object, the only way in which to succeed would be to _repeat_ both the action of the sense stimuli and the _name_; in other words, to repeat the lesson. But when the child has failed, we should know that he was not at that instant ready for the psychic a.s.sociation which we wished to provoke in him, and we must therefore choose another moment.
If we should say, in correcting the child, "No, you have made a mistake," all these words, which, being in the form of a reproof, would strike him more forcibly than others (such as smooth or rough), would remain in the mind of the child, r.e.t.a.r.ding the learning of the names. On the contrary, the _silence_ which follows the error leaves the field of consciousness clear, and the next lesson may successfully follow the first. In fact, by revealing the error we may lead the child to make an undue _effort_ to remember, or we may discourage him, and it is our duty to avoid as much as possible all unnatural effort and all depression.
_Third._ If the child has not committed any error, the teacher may provoke the _motor activity_ corresponding to the idea of the object: that is, to the _p.r.o.nunciation of the name_. She may ask him, "What is this?" and the child should respond, "Smooth." The teacher may then interrupt, teaching him how to p.r.o.nounce the word correctly and distinctly, first, drawing a deep breath and, then, saying in a rather loud voice, "Smooth." When he does this the teacher may note his particular speech defect, or the special form of baby talk to which he may be addicted.
In regard to the _generalisation_ of the ideas received, and by that I mean the application of these ideas to his environment, I do not advise any lessons of this sort for a certain length of time, even for a number of months. There will be children who, after having touched a few times the stuffs, or merely the smooth and rough cards, _will quite spontaneously touch the various surfaces about them_, repeating "Smooth!
Rough! It is velvet! etc." In dealing with normal children, we must _await_ this spontaneous investigation of the surroundings, or, as I like to call it, this _voluntary explosion_ of the exploring spirit. In such cases, the children experience a joy at each _fresh discovery_.
They are conscious of a sense of dignity and satisfaction which encourages them to seek for new sensations from their environment and to make themselves spontaneous _observers_.
The teacher should _watch_ with the most solicitous care to see when and how the child arrives at this generalisation of ideas. For example, one of our little four-year-olds while running about in the court one day suddenly stood still and cried out, "Oh! the sky is blue!" and stood for some time looking up into the blue expanse of the sky.
One day, when I entered one of the "Children"s Houses," five or six little ones gathered quietly about me and began caressing, lightly, my hands, and my clothing, saying, "It is smooth." "It is velvet." "This is rough." A number of others came near and began with serious and intent faces to repeat the same words, touching me as they did so. The directress wished to interfere to release me, but I signed to her to be quiet, and I myself did not move, but remained silent, admiring this spontaneous intellectual activity of my little ones. The greatest triumph of our educational method should always be this: _to bring about the spontaneous progress of the child_.
One day, a little boy, following one of our exercises in design, had chosen to fill in with coloured pencils the outline of a tree. To colour the trunk he laid hold upon a red crayon. The teacher wished to interfere, saying, "Do you think trees have red trunks?" I held her back and allowed the child to colour the tree red. This design was precious to us; it showed that the child was not yet an observer of his surroundings. _My way of treating this was to encourage the child to make use of the games for the chromatic sense._ He went daily into the garden with the other children, and could at any time see the tree trunks. When the sense exercises should have succeeded in attracting the child"s spontaneous attention to colours about him, then, in some _happy moment_ he would become aware that the tree trunks were not red, just as the other child during his play had become conscious of the fact that the sky was blue. In fact, the teacher continued to give the child outlines of trees to fill in. He one day chose a brown pencil with which to colour the trunk, and made the branches and leaves green. Later, he made the branches brown, also, using green only for the leaves.
Thus we have _the test_ of the child"s intellectual progress. We can not create observers by saying, "_observe_," but by giving them the power and the means for this observation, and these means are procured through education of the senses. Once we have _aroused_ such activity, auto-education is a.s.sured, for refined well-trained senses lead us to a closer observation of the environment, and this, with its infinite variety, attracts the attention and continues the psychosensory education.
If, on the other hand, in this matter of sense education we single out definite concepts of the quality of certain objects, these very objects become a.s.sociated with, or a part of, the training, which is in this way limited to those concepts taken and recorded. So the sense training remains unfruitful. When, for example, a teacher has given in the old way a lesson on the names of the colours, she has imparted an idea concerning that particular _quality_, but she has not educated the chromatic sense. The child will know these colours in a superficial way, forgetting them from time to time; and at best his appreciation of them will lie within the limits prescribed by the teacher. When, therefore, the teacher of the old methods shall have provoked the generalisation of the idea, saying, for example, "What is the colour of this flower!" "of this ribbon?" the attention of the child will in all probability remain torpidly fixed upon the examples suggested by her.
We may liken the child to a clock, and may say that with the old-time way it is very much as if we were to hold the wheels of the clock quiet and move the hands about the clock face with our fingers. The hands will continue to circle the dial just so long as we apply, through our fingers, the necessary motor force. Even so is it with that sort of culture which is limited to the work which the teacher does with the child. The new method, instead, may be compared to the process of winding, which sets the entire mechanism in motion.
This motion is in direct relation with the machine, and not with the work of winding. So the spontaneous psychic development of the child continues indefinitely and is in direct relation to the psychic potentiality of the child himself, and not with the work of the teacher.
The movement, or the _spontaneous psychic activity_ starts in our case from the education of the senses and is maintained by the observing intelligence. Thus, for example, the hunting dog receives his ability, not from the education given by his master, but from the _special acuteness_ of his senses; and as soon as this physiological quality is applied to the right environment, the _exercise of hunting_, the increasing refinement of the sense perceptions, gives the dog the pleasure and then the pa.s.sion for the chase. The same is true of the pianist who, refining at the same time his musical sense and the agility of his hand, comes to love more and more to draw new harmonies from the instrument. Thia double perfection proceeds until at last the pianist is launched upon a course which will be limited only by the personality which lies within him. Now a student of physics may know all the laws of harmony which form a part of his scientific culture, and yet he may not know how to follow a most simple musical composition. His culture, however vast, will be bound by the definite limits of his science. Our educational aim with very young children must be to _aid the spontaneous development of the mental, spiritual, and physical personality_, and not to make of the child a cultured individual in the commonly accepted sense of the term. So, after we have offered to the child such didactic material as is adapted to provoke the development of his senses, we must wait until the activity known as observation develops. And herein lies the _art of the educator_; in knowing how to measure the action by which we help the young child"s personality to develop. To one whose att.i.tude is right, little children soon reveal _profound individual differences_ which call for very different kinds of help from the teacher. Some of them require almost no intervention on her part, while others demand actual _teaching_. It is necessary, therefore, that the teaching shall be rigorously guided by the principle of limiting to the greatest possible point the active intervention of the educator.
Here are a number of games and problems which we have used effectively in trying to follow this principle.
GAMES OF THE BLIND
The Games of the Blind are used for the most part as exercises in general sensibility as follows:
_The Stuffs._ We have in our didactic material a pretty little chest composed of drawers within which are arranged rectangular pieces of stuff in great variety. There are velvet, satin, silk, cotton, linen, etc. We have the child touch each of these pieces, teaching the appropriate nomenclature and adding something regarding the quality, as coa.r.s.e, fine, soft. Then, we call the child and seat him at one of the tables where he can be seen by his companions, blindfold him, and offer him the stuffs one by one. He touches them, smooths them, crushes them between his fingers and decides, "It is velvet,--It is fine linen,--It is rough cloth," etc. This exercise provokes general interest. When we offer the child some unexpected foreign object, as, for example, a sheet of paper, a veil, the little a.s.sembly trembles as it awaits his response.
_Weight._ We place the child in the same position, call his attention to the tablets used for the education of the sense of weight, have him notice again the already well-known differences of weight, and then tell him to put all the dark tablets, which are the heavier ones, at the right, and all the light ones, which are the lighter, to the left. We then blindfold him and he proceeds to the game, taking each time two tablets. Sometimes he takes two of the same colour, sometimes two of different colours, but in a position opposite to that in which he must arrange them on his desk. These exercises are most exciting; when, for example, the child has in his hands two of the dark tablets and changes them from one hand to the other uncertain, and finally places them together on the right, the children watch in a state of intense eagerness, and a great sigh often expresses their final relief. The shouts of the audience when the entire game is followed without an error, gives the impression that their little friend _sees with his hands_ the colours of the tablets.
_Dimension and Form._ We use games similar to the preceding one, having the child distinguish between different coins, the cubes and bricks of Froebel, and dry seeds, such as beans and peas. But such games never awaken the intense interest aroused by the preceding ones. They are, however, useful and serve to a.s.sociate with the various objects those qualities peculiar to them, and also to fix the nomenclature.
APPLICATION OF THE EDUCATION OF THE VISUAL SENSE TO THE OBSERVATION OF THE ENVIRONMENT
_Nomenclature._ This is one of the most important phases of education.
Indeed, nomenclature prepares for an _exactness_ in the use of language which is not always met with in our schools. Many children, for example, use interchangeably the words thick and big, long and high.
With the methods already described, the teacher may easily establish, by means of the didactic material, ideas which are very exact and clear, and may a.s.sociate the proper word with these ideas.
_Method of Using the Didactic Material_
_Dimensions._ The directress, after the child has played for a long time with the three sets of solid insets and has acquired a security in the performance of the exercise, takes out all the cylinders of equal height and places them in a horizontal position on the table, one beside the other. Then she selects the two extremes, saying, "This is the _thickest_--This is the _thinnest_." She places them side by side so that the comparison may be more marked, and then taking them by the little b.u.t.ton, she compares the bases, calling attention to the great difference. She then places them again beside each other in a vertical position in order to show that they are equal in height, and repeats several times, "thick--thin." Having done this, she should follow it with the test, asking, "Give me the thickest--Give me the thinnest," and finally she should proceed to the test of nomenclature, asking, "What is this?" In the lessons which follow this, the directress may take away the two extreme pieces and may repeat the lesson with the two pieces remaining at the extremities, and so on until she has used all the pieces. She may then take these up at random, saying, "Give me one a little thicker than this one," or "Give me one a little thinner than this one." With the second set of solid insets she proceeds in the same way. Here she stands the pieces upright, as each one has a base sufficiently broad to maintain it in this position, saying, "This is the highest" and "This is the lowest." Then placing the two extreme pieces side by side she may take them out of the line and compare the bases, showing that they are equal. From the extremes she may proceed as before, selecting each time the two remaining pieces most strongly contrasted.
With the third solid inset, the directress, when she has arranged the pieces in gradation, calls the child"s attention to the first one, saying, "This is the largest," and to the last one, saying, "This is the smallest." Then she places them side by side and observes how they differ both in height and in base. She then proceeds in the same way as in the other two exercises.
Similar lessons may be given with the series of graduated prisms, of rods, and of cubes. The prisms are _thick_ and _thin_ and of equal _length_. The rods are _long_ and _short_ and of equal _thickness_. The cubes are _big_ and _little_ and differ in size and in height.
The application of these ideas to environment will come most easily when we measure the children with the anthropometer. They will begin among themselves to make comparisons, saying, "I am taller,--you are thicker."
These comparisons are also made when the children hold out their little hands to show that they are clean, and the directress stretches hers out also, to show that she, too, has clean hands. Often the contrast between the dimensions of the hands calls forth laughter. The children make a perfect game of measuring themselves. They stand side by side; they look at each other; they decide. Often they place themselves beside grown persons, and observe with curiosity and interest the great difference in height.
_Form._ When the child shows that he can with security distinguish between the forms of the plane geometric insets, the directress may begin the lessons in nomenclature. She should begin with two strongly-contrasted forms, as the square and the circle, and should follow the usual method, using the three periods of Seguin. We do not teach all the names relative to the geometric figures, giving only those of the most familiar forms, such as square, circle, rectangle, triangle, oval. We now call attention to the fact that there are _rectangles which are narrow and long_, and others which are _broad and short_, while the _squares_ are equal on all sides and can be only big and little. These things are most easily shown with the insets, for, though we turn the square about, it still enters its frame, while the rectangle, if placed across the opening, will not enter. The child is much interested in this exercise, for which we arrange in the frame a square and a series of rectangles, having the longest side equal to the side of the square, the other side gradually decreasing in the five pieces.
In the same way we proceed to show the difference between the oval, the ellipse, and the circle. The circle enters no matter how it is placed, or turned about; the ellipse does not enter when placed transversely, but if placed lengthwise will enter even if turned upside down. The oval, however, not only cannot enter the frame if placed transversely, but not even when turned upside down; it must be placed with the _large_ curve toward the large part of the opening, and with the _narrow_ curve toward the _narrow_ portion of the opening.
The circles, _big_ and _little_, enter their frames no matter how they are turned about. I do not reveal the difference between the oval and the ellipse until a very late stage of the child"s education, and then not to all children, but only to those who show a special interest in the forms by choosing the game often, or by asking about the differences. I prefer that such differences should be recognised later by the child, spontaneously, perhaps in the elementary school.
It seems to many persons that in teaching these forms we are teaching _geometry_, and that this is premature in schools for such young children. Others feel that, if we wish to present geometric forms, we should use the _solids_, as being more concrete.
I feel that I should say a word here to combat such prejudices. To _observe_ a geometric form is not to _a.n.a.lyse_ it, and in the a.n.a.lysis geometry begins. When, for example, we speak to the child of sides and angles and explain these to him, even though with objective methods, as Froebel advocates (for example, the square has four sides and can be constructed with four sticks of equal length), then indeed we do enter the field of geometry, and I believe that little children are too immature for these steps. But the _observation of the form_ cannot be too advanced for a child at this age. The plane of the table at which the child sits while eating his supper is probably a rectangle; the plate which contains his food is a circle, and we certainly do not consider that the child is too _immature_ to be allowed to look at the table and the plate.
The insets which we present simply call the attention to a given _form_.
As to the name, it is a.n.a.logous to other names by which the child learns to call things. Why should we consider it premature to teach the child the words _circle_, _square_, _oval_, when in his home he repeatedly hears the word _round_ used in connection with plates, etc. He will hear his parents speak of the _square_ table, the _oval_ table, etc., and these words in common use will remain for a long time _confused_ in his mind and in his speech, if we do not interpose such help as that we give in the teaching of forms.
We should reflect upon the fact that many times a child, left to himself, makes an undue effort to comprehend the language of the adults and the meaning of the things about him. Opportune and rational instruction _prevents_ such an effort, and therefore does not _weary_, but _relieves_, the child and satisfies his desire for knowledge.
Indeed, he shows his contentment by various expressions of pleasure. At the same time, his attention is called to the word which, if he is allowed to p.r.o.nounce badly, develops in him an imperfect use of the language.
This often arises from an effort on his part to imitate the careless speech of persons about him, while the teacher, by p.r.o.nouncing clearly the word referring to the object which arouses the child"s curiosity, prevents such effort and such imperfections.
Here, also, we face a widespread prejudice; namely, the belief that the child left to himself gives absolute repose to his mind. If this were so he would remain a stranger to the world, and, instead, we see him, little by little, spontaneously conquer various ideas and words. He is a traveller through life, who observes the new things among which he journeys, and who tries to understand the unknown tongue spoken by those about him. Indeed, he makes a great and _voluntary effort_ to understand and to imitate. The instruction given to little children should be so directed as to _lessen this expenditure_ of poorly directed effort, converting it instead into the enjoyment of conquest made easy and infinitely broadened. We are _the guides_ of these travellers just entering the great world of human thought. We should see to it that we are intelligent and cultured guides, not losing ourselves in vain discourse, but ill.u.s.trating briefly and concisely the work of art in which the traveller shows himself interested, and we should then respectfully allow him to observe it as long as he wishes to. It is our privilege to lead him to observe the most important and the most beautiful things of life in such a way that he does not lose energy and time in useless things, but shall find pleasure and satisfaction throughout his pilgrimage.
I have already referred to the prejudice that it is more suitable to present the geometric forms to the child in the _solid_ rather than in the _plane_, giving him, for example, the _cube_, the _sphere_, the _prism_. Let us put aside the physiological side of the question showing that the visual recognition of the solid figure is more complex than that of the plane, and let us view the question only from the more purely pedagogical standpoint of _practical life_.
The greater number of objects which we look upon every day present more nearly the aspect of our plane geometric insets. In fact, doors, window-frames, framed pictures, the wooden or marble top of a table, are indeed _solid_ objects, but with one of the dimensions greatly reduced, and with the two dimensions determining the form of the plane surface made most evident.
When the plane form prevails, we say that the window is rectangular, the picture frame oval, this table square, etc. _Solids having a determined form prevailing in the plane surface_ are almost the only ones which come to our notice. And such solids are clearly represented by our _plane geometric insets_.
The child will _very often_ recognise in his environment forms which he has learned in this way, but he will rarely recognise the _solid geometric forms_.
That the table leg is a prism, or a truncated cone, or an elongated cylinder, will come to his knowledge long after he has observed that the top of the table upon which he places things is rectangular. We do not, therefore, speak of the fact of recognising that a house is a prism or a cube. Indeed, the pure solid geometric forms _never exist_ in the ordinary objects about us; these present, instead, a _combination of forms_. So, putting aside the difficulty of taking in at a glance the complex form of a house, the child recognises in it, not an _ident.i.ty_ of form, but an _a.n.a.logy_.
He will, however, see the plane geometric forms perfectly represented in windows and doors, and in the faces of many solid objects in use at home. Thus the knowledge of the forms given him in the plane geometric insets will be for him a species of magic _key_, opening the external world, and making him feel that he knows its secrets.
I was walking one day upon the Pincian Hill with a boy from the elementary school. He had studied geometric design and understood the a.n.a.lysis of plane geometric figures. As we reached the highest terrace from which we could see the Piazza del Popolo with the city stretching away behind it, I stretched out my hand saying, "Look, all the works of man are a great ma.s.s of geometric figures;" and, indeed, rectangles, ovals, triangles, and semicircles, perforated, or ornamented, in a hundred different ways the grey rectangular facades of the various buildings. Such uniformity in such an expanse of buildings seemed to prove the _limitation_ of human intelligence, while in an adjoining garden plot the shrubs and flowers spoke eloquently of the infinite variety of forms in nature.
The boy had never made these observations; he had studied the angles, the sides and the construction of outlined geometric figures, but without thinking beyond this, and feeling only annoyance at this arid work. At first he laughed at the idea of man"s ma.s.sing geometric figures together, then he became interested, looked long at the buildings before him, and an expression of lively and thoughtful interest came into his face. To the right of the Ponte Margherita was a factory building in the process of construction, and its steel framework delineated a series of rectangles. "What tedious work!" said the boy, alluding to the workmen.
And, then, as we drew near the garden, and stood for a moment in silence admiring the gra.s.s and the flowers which sprang so freely from the earth, "It is beautiful!" he said. But that word "beautiful" referred to the inner awakening of his own soul.
This experience made me think that in the observation of the plane geometric forms, and in that of the plants which they saw growing in their own little gardens, there existed for the children precious sources of spiritual as well as intellectual education. For this reason, I have wished to make my work broad, leading the child, not only to observe the forms about him, but to distinguish the work of man from that of nature, and to appreciate the fruits of human labour.
(_a_) _Free Design._ I give the child a sheet of white paper and a pencil, telling him that he may draw whatever he wishes to. Such drawings have long been of interest to experimental psychologists. Their importance lies in the fact that they reveal the _capacity_ of the child for observing, and also show his individual tendencies. Generally, the first drawings are unformed and confused, and the teacher should ask the child _what he wished to draw_, and should write it underneath the design that it may be a record. Little by little, the drawings become more intelligible, and verily reveal the progress which the child makes in the observation of the forms about him. Often the most minute details of an object have been observed and recorded in the crude sketch. And, since the child draws what he wishes, he reveals to us which are the objects that most strongly attract his attention.