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must be kept. But if you have called it the common school, as the nursery .of a hopeless mediocrity, and if with the name you have thought such a thought, or devised such a use, you have torn it away with treacherous violence from the very spirit and life of the democracy in which it had its birth. It is and must be kept the school of the best nurture in the best things.
We too often hear the remark that the teaching and studies of the public schools must be shapen to the needs of the children of families of moderate means, or of no means, or the children of the masses, or of certain classes; and that if wealthy parents want to give their children a better education or one that leads to higher station they must send them to private and special schools. All this is the voice of a spurious democracy. It is no democracy at all. It is a reversion to the notions of the "ragged school."
It is the voice of class spirit. It contemplates the classification of helpless children according to conditions of birth, and deliberately proposes to rob them of full and free opportunity. Who knows that the children of the poor or lowly do not need to study certain things? Who knows that they will not make full use of the best instruction and the best courses of study? Experience seems to show that a larger percentage of them make better use than do the offspring of the mighty.
The children of the rich labor already under disabilities enough without being isolated in private academies and being inevitably limited for their later acquaintanceships in life to those whose scope of vision and range of action is hedged about with all the paraphernalia of yachts and motors and multiplex horses, clubs, assemblies, valets, and innovation trunks. Both by the limited association in school and by that of after-life these children of the rich are disabled for largest usefulness through their inability to know the mind of the great body of the people among whom they are to live. Their separation is also a loss to the community, and the creation of a fixed caste a detriment and peril to society. We surely ought to beware lest we are doing anything to drive such pupils from the public schools or omitting to do anything that should hold them. For pupils who require special treatment or tutelage, either through their own weakness or through lack of home influences or through the desire of their families to provide such special tutelage, the private school will always have its place and mission; but if the private schools and academies are offering anything else of method or substance or curriculum that is better than in the public schools, it behooves us to find it out. What is good for the children of the well-to-do is peculiarly desirable for the children of the moneyless -unless indeed we deliberately propose to use the public schools for the creation of social strata instead of their prevention.
The public school must be made and kept the school for all without recognition of classes or conditions, and it must shape its work and plan so as to close no door but rather open the freest opportunity for the best achievement and the highest advance. The present rigid system of the grades, whose chief excuse has been economic necessity, must yield to permit the more rapid ad
vance of gifted and diligent pupils. The old district school without the grades was more humane. Nowadays the machinery of grades and courses is won- . drously perfect, but the school exists for the child and not for the grades. The place of a child in reference to the grades is at any time to be determined not by what he has gone through in the past, whether of pages or classes, but by the work he is able to go on and do next. Too many minds and too many wills and ambitions are dulled by the routine and treadmill of the grades; and that means bandaging the foot and strapping the skull to produce a standard size. Particularly do the two last years of the grades need to be refreshed and readapted. There is too much threshing of old straw in them; they are too wooden; they lag behind the growing life-interest and the advancing mental cravings of the pupils. After completing six grades a boy is ready for something new and something that will lay hold upon his opening interest in the processes of life. If you withhold it you may lose him or at any rate his interest in the school; and if you lose that, you might as well lose him. Your boy is twelve years old or more. Now is the time to offer him the opportunities of instruction in the industrial arts, or the agricultural arts, or in business practice, and now is the time to begin language study if any foreign language is ever to be learned. The fact is that our old one-story ranch house in which we all lived together happily around a court has been gradually transformed, now that the city has grown up about it, into an eight-story tenement house (with basement and roof-garden), and we are shocked to find how much of our time and strength has to go into merely climbing stairs.
So much by way of illustration, but the flash of an illustration must not daze the doctrine; the public can afford to have for the public schools the best teachers, the best equipment, the best studies and courses; it cannot afford to have anything else.
The common school is of noble name, noble like the commonwealth it stands to represent, but he who falsely shifts the value of its name is warned he dare call nothing common or unclean that service of humanity at large has cleansed.
A SIGNIFICANT LACK IN EDUCATIONAL TERMINOLOGY
JOHN ADAMS, UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, LONDON, ENGLAND
While an excess of technical terms in a given subject may suggest pedantry, an insufficient supply of such terms may not unfairly he held to indicate a lack of clear thinking. The absence of a word to indicate a quality or relation shows that the quality or relation in question is not felt to be of practical importance. In educational terminology there is at least one striking example of such a lack, the unnamed concept being of first rate importance.
In exact writing, teaching and education are generally treated as more or less technical terms, teaching being confined to the process of conveying information or at the best imparting skill, while education deals with the process of deliberately modifying the development of the nature of the person affected.
Obviously education is the wider term, for while all forms of teaching have a more or less direct educational effect there are other ways than teaching by which education may be carried on. It is true that many claim to be educators merely because they are teachers. In the United States in particular the words teacher and educator are being more and more used as synonymous, the word schoolman being treated as a technical term to include both actual teachers and those engaged in educational administration.
That education is not by any means confined to the school is shown by the very words used to express what we ordinarily understand by the term. Among the Greeks raideía meant primarily the rearing of children. The German Erziehung, and the French élever have the same primary meaning of rearing, or bringing up. The familiar American form "to raise," is exactly equivalent to the French term. So literally does élever limit itself to the actual rearing of children, that Littré applies, within brackets, the word allaiter as an equivalent. The word education in itself rouses hopes, since by its very derivation it suggests a theory. But, so far as French is concerned, we are disappointed, for we find the depressing note in Littré: "éducation is a recent word: formerly one said nourriture."
Yet everyone who has had occasion to dip into books on school method is familiar with the endless discussions about the derivation of the word education. The popular, one might almost call it the orthodox, derivation runs: e=out of, and duco I lead. From this derivation a whole theory of teaching is sometimes evolved. The young teacher is warned that his main business is to draw out rather than to put in. The pupil is to be told as little as possible, and knowledge is rather to be "elicited from the pupil by skilful questions" than communicated to him. It annoys the writers of such manuals if one points out the existence of a Latin verb educare that meets all the needs of derivation, and yet carries with it no more elaborate theory than we can spin out of élever; for, among the meanings of this word educare is included the usual "rearing of children." Some dictionaries give the meaning of the word as "to bring up a child, physically or mentally." The dictionary certainly does its best to keep the educator humble.
The "e out of" theory is not confined to the professional teachers. It has spread among laymen. We find Edward Burne-Jones writing:
Education is a pretty enough word if it is taken literally, and intended to mean an influence that leads forth something already in one, but they seldom mean anything so nice as that. By the present way people's faculties are more often stuffed up than drawn out. Inducation is rather the word that represents it. People ought to get into the habit of saying, quite in an ordinary tone of voice, "My boys are being inducated at Eton."
There is here more than verbal criticism. We are dealing with what education is and ought to be, rather than with the mere derivation of the word. The school-manual derivation owes its influence to the fact that it is countenanced by a view of education that is sound. Burne-Jones emphasizes the
Memorials of Edward Burne-Jones, Vol. II, p. 324 (year quoted 1897).
distinction between merely supplying information on the one hand, and on the other using knowledge in such a way as to modify character. The complaint really is that boys are being taught but not educated. The word inducation is used to bring out the fact that in our practical systems teaching is not distinguished from education. These two are indeed very generally treated as if they were interchangeable terms. This fact requires some explanation, since teaching is after all only a part of education. Sometimes, indeed, there is admitted to be an opposition between the two processes, as in those cases in which a particular method of teaching is described as uneducational. The meaning here is obviously that the method in question does not produce good results on the nature of the person taught. We have seen that all a teacher's methods must have an educational effect, just as have all the other elements of the pupil's experience. Education includes teaching as the greater includes the less, though to judge by popular speech one would almost be led to suppose that it was the other way about. A well-educated man is usually understood to be a well-informed man, a man of wide knowledge. It is in this sense that Aristotle is often called the best educated man the world has even seen. On any other view the compliment that is obviously meant for Aristotle himself would have to be carried back to Aristotle's teacher, Plato; for the teacher is obviously responsible for the education of the pupil in the sense of a process that modifies the nature of the pupil. In this sense Alexander is more entitled to the epithet than is his master, though in respect of mere knowledge the pupil never even approached the master's level. Yet Hegel, speaking of Alexander tells us:
Aristotle left this grand nature as untrammeled as it was before his instruction; but impressed upon it a deep perception of what the true is, and formed the spirit which nature had so richly endowed, to a plastic being, rolling freely like an orb through its circumambient aether.1
Education has for its aim a modification of the nature of the person being educated, and not merely the supply of a certain amount of knowledge.
The knowledge-mongering theory is based upon an exaggeration of a principle that is in itself sound. Nurture forms as essential a part of true education as does what is usually called training. Instruction is indeed of fundamental importance in education, but it cannot stand alone. Knowledge must be used as a means toward an end. It is true that there are certain elements of knowledge that may be said to be of use in themselves, and apart from any effect they may have upon the character. Subjects that are merely ancillary to other subjects are of this nature, subjects that Lord Avebury would call "knife-and-fork studies." Even here, however, it is doubtful whether the distinction will really hold, for what is a knife-and-fork study at a given stage may well have been a culture study at an earlier stage.
In fact we cannot reasonably separate knowledge from the knowing person. The very grammatical function of the verb "to teach" with its double accusa
Philosophy of History, Part II, Sec. 2.
tive, drives us to the conclusion that the process becomes meaningless if we try to deal with the subject taught apart from the person to whom it is taught. Whether he will or not, the "mere" teacher is to this extent an educator. How far he is a genuine educator, that is, how far he deliberately seeks to modify the pupil's character in a given direction, is another question.
So far as the general public is interested in the matter at all it is inclined to admit the teacher's claim to rank as an educator. It is only too willing to hold him responsible for the conduct of his pupils after they leave school. He is taken to task for producing the Hooligan and the Apache, or at the very least for not preventing their production. Probably too much is expected of the school. The public has an almost Red-Indian belief in the marvels that can be worked there. We have Max Müller's authority for the statement that the terms used by the red men to signify a school may be literally rendered "a stopping place where sorcery is practiced."
Every good schoolman will prefer that too much rather than too little should be expected from the school, and will welcome the growing reaction against the view that it is a mere knowledge shop. Still he knows that teaching and education are not synonymous and should be anxious to learn why they are so readily accepted as such by the public. The two processes resemble each other inasmuch as both are bipolar, they have each an active and a passive member: there is the teacher and the person taught, the educator and the person educated. Between the active and the passive persons in the two processes there is obviously a continuous interaction. In each process there is a pair of persons. As a consequence there is need for a pair of correlative words in each case. In the one process teacher is the name given to the active person, and corresponding to this in ordinary speech we have the term pupil. In the case of education we have the active side represented by the word educator, but when we seek for the corresponding term for the passive side we find that it is lacking. The man who writes on education, as a wider term than mere teaching, has to fall back on such expressions as "the person to be educated," or "the person being educated." The interesting thing is that most of those who write in English on this subject do not seem to feel the need of a correlate for educator. They appear to be quite content to make the word pupil serve their purpose. At the early stages of educational theory it may have been pardonable to make one term meet the needs of both teaching and education. But it is remarkable that as theory has developed this double work should have been for so long exacted from a single term.
It has to be admitted that this lack of an essential word has not gone entirely unobserved: for on referring to Dr. Murray's Historical Dictionary of the English Language, it will be found that the word "educatee" does occur, with the explanation, "one who is subjected to the process of education." But it is accompanied by a note in italics that describes it as a "nonce word," a word, that is, that has not justified its claim to a place in the language, but has been used by some writers for the nonce, to meet a passing need. Nothing