Читать книгу A Practical Enquiry into the Philosophy of Education - Gall James - Страница 18

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We have seen in the former chapters, that the most probable method of succeeding in any difficult undertaking is to learn from Nature, and to endeavour to imitate her. The first great question with the Educationist then should be, "Does Nature ever teach?" If he can find her so employed, and if he be really willing to learn, he may rest assured, that by carefully studying her operations, he will be able to detect something in the ends which she aims at, and the methods which she adopts for attaining these ends, that will lead him to the selection of similar means, and crown him ultimately with similar success.

Now we find that Nature does teach; and in so far as rational beings are concerned, whether angelic or human, it appears to be her chief and her noblest employment. In regard to the human family, she no doubt, at a certain period, intends that the task should be taken up and carried on by parents and teachers, under her controul; but when we compare the nature and success of their operations with hers, we perceive the immense inferiority of their best endeavours, and are obliged to confess, that in many instances, instead of forwarding her work, they either mar or destroy it. For in regard to the matter of their teaching, it may be observed, that they can teach their pupils nothing, except what they or their predecessors have learned of Nature before;—and as to the manner in which it is taught, it is generally so very imperfect, that for their success, teachers are often indebted in no small degree to the constant interference of Nature, in what is ordinarily termed the "common sense" of their pupils, for rectifying many of their errors, and supplying innumerable deficiencies. Of this we shall by and by have to advert more particularly.

The educational operations of Nature are universal; and she attaches large rewards to diligence in attending to them. She evidently intends, as we have said, that the parent and teacher should take up, and follow out her suggestions in this great work; but even when this is delayed, or altogether neglected, her part of the proceedings is not abandoned. Nature is so strong within the pupil, and her educational promptings are so powerful, that even without a teacher, he is able for a time to teach himself. In man, and even among many of the more perfect specimens of the lower creation, Nature has suspended the larger portion of their comforts and their security, upon attention to her lessons, and the practical application of that which she teaches. The dog which shuns the person who had previously beaten him; the infant that clings to its nurse, and refuses to leave her; the boy who refuses to cross the ditch he never tried before; the savage who traces the foot-prints of his game; the man who shrinks from a ruffian countenance; and Newton, when the fall of an apple prompted him to pursue successively the lessons which that simple event suggested to him, are all examples of the teachings of Nature—specimens of the manner in which she enables her pupils to collect and retain knowledge, and stimulates them to apply it. Wherever these suggestions of Nature are individually neglected, there must be discomfort and danger, and wretchedness to the person doing so; and wherever they are not taken up by communities, and socially taught by education of some kind or another, society must necessarily remain little better than savage.—The opposite of this is equally true; for wherever they are personally attended to, the individual promotes his own safety and comfort; and when they are socially taken up and followed out by education, however imperfectly, then civilization, and national security, prosperity, and happiness, are the invariable consequences.

The information which we are to derive from the Academy of Nature, is to be found chiefly in those instances where she is least interfered with by the operations of others. In these we shall endeavour to follow her; and, by classifying her several processes, and investigating each of them in its order, we shall assuredly be able to arrive at some first principles, to guide us in imitating the modes of her working, and which will enable us, in some measure, to share in her success.

When we take a comprehensive view of the educational processes of Nature, we find them arranging themselves under four great divisions, blending into each other, no doubt, like the kingdoms of Nature and the colours of the rainbow, but still perfectly distinct in their great characteristics.

The first educational process which is observable in Nature's Academy, is the stimulating of her pupil to such an exercise of mind upon external objects, as tends powerfully and rapidly to expand and strengthen the powers of his mind. This operation begins with the first dawning of consciousness, and continues under different forms during the whole period of the individual's life.

The second educational process, which in its commencement is perhaps coeval with the first, is Nature's stimulating her pupil to the acquisition of knowledge, for the purpose of retaining and using it.

The third consists in the disciplining of her pupil in the practical use, and proper application of the knowledge received; by which means the knowledge itself becomes better understood, better remembered, and much more at the command of the will than it was before:—

And her fourth educational process consists, in training her pupil to acquire facility in communicating by language, his knowledge and experience to others.

The first of these four general departments in Nature's educational process, is the developement and cultivation of the powers of her pupil's mind.—This part of Nature's work begins at the first dawn of intelligence; and it continues through every other department of her educational process. For several months during infancy, sensation itself is but languid. The first indistinct perceptions of existence gradually give place to a dreamy and uncertain consciousness of personal identity.—Pain is felt; light is perceived; objects begin to be defined, and distinguished; ideas are formed; and then, but not till then, reflection, imagination, and memory, are gradually brought into exercise, and cultivated. It is the extent and strength of these faculties, as we shall afterwards see, that is to measure the educational progress of the child; and therefore it is, that the first object of Nature seems to be, to secure their proper developement. The child feels and thinks; and it is these first feelings and thoughts, frequently repeated, that enable it gradually to extend its mental operations. It is in this way only that the powers, of the mind in infants are expanded and strengthened, as there can be no mental culture without mental exercise. While a child is awake, therefore, Nature prompts him to constant and unwearied mental exertion; by which means he becomes more and more familiar with external objects; acquires a better command over his own mind in perceiving and remembering them; and becomes more and more fitted, not only for receiving constant accessions of knowledge, but also for putting that knowledge to use.

The second part of Nature's educational process, we have said, consists in her powerfully stimulating her pupil to the acquisition of knowledge.—This, which we call the second part of Nature's operations, has been going on from an early period of the child's history, and it acts usually in conjunction with the first. As soon as an infant can distinguish objects, it begins to form ideas regarding them. It remembers their shape; it gradually acquires a knowledge of their qualities; and these it remembers, and, as we shall immediately see, is prompted to put to use upon proper occasions.—It is in the acquisition of this kind of knowledge that the principle of curiosity begins to be developed. The child's desire for information is increased with every new accession; and for this reason, its mental activity and restlessness, while awake, have no cessation. Every glance of the eye, every motion of the hands or limbs made to gratify its curiosity, as it is called, is only an indication of its desire for information:—Every sight or sound calls its attention; every portable object is seized, mouthed, and examined, for the purpose of learning its qualities. These operations at the instigation of Nature are so common, that they are scarcely observed; but when we examine more minutely into their effects, they become truly wonderful. For example, were we to hear of an infant of two or three years of age, having learned in the course of a few months to distinguish each soldier in a regiment of Negroes, whose features their very parents perhaps would have some difficulty in discriminating; if he could call each individual by his name; knew also the names and the uses of their several accoutrements; and, besides all this, had learned to understand and to speak their language;—we would be surprised and incredulous. And yet this would be an accumulation of knowledge, not much greater than is attained in the same space of time by many of the feeble unsophisticated pupils of Nature.—Infants, having no temptation to depart from her mode of discipline, become in a short period acquainted with the forms, and the uses, and even the names, of thousands of persons and objects, not only without labour, but with vast satisfaction and delight.

The training of her pupils to the practical use of their knowledge, forms the third department in Nature's educational process.—This is the great end which the two previous departments were designed to accomplish. This is Nature's chief object;—all the others are obviously subordinate. The cultivation of the mind, and the acquisition of knowledge were necessary;—but that necessity arose from the circumstance of their being preparatory to this. Nature, in fact, appears to have stamped this department of her operations almost exclusively with her own seal;—repudiating all knowledge that remains useless, and in a short time blotting it entirely from the memory of her pupils; while that portion of their acquired knowledge, on the contrary, which is useful and is put to use, becomes in proportion more familiar, and more permanent. It is also worthy of remark, that the knowledge which is most useful, is always most easily and pleasantly acquired.

The superior importance of this department of education is very observable. In the previous departments of Nature's educational process, the child was induced to acquire new ideas;—in this he is prompted to make use of them. In the former he was taught to know;—in this he is trained to act. For example, if he has learned that his nurse is kind, Nature now prompts him to act upon that knowledge, and he accordingly strains every nerve to get to his nurse;—if he has learned that comfits are sweet, he acts upon that knowledge, and endeavours to procure them;—and if he has once experimentally learned that the fire will burn, he will ever afterwards keep from the fire.

Last of all comes the fourth, or supplementary step in this beautiful educational process of Nature. It consists in gradually training her pupil to communicate the knowledge and experience which he has attained.—It is probable that Nature begins this part of her process before the child has acquired the use of language;—but as it is by language chiefly that man holds fellowship with man, it is not till he has learned to speak that the mental exercise on which its success depends, becomes sufficiently marked and obvious. It consists, not in the acquisition of language so much, as in the use of language after it has been gained. The pupil is for this purpose prompted by Nature to think and to speak at the same moment;—mentally to prepare one sentence, while he is giving utterance to its predecessor. That this is not the result of instinct, but is altogether an acquisition made under the tuition of Nature by the mental exertions of the infant himself, is obvious from the fact, that he is at first incapable of it, and never pronounces three, and very seldom two words consecutively without a pause between each. This the child continues to do after he is perfectly familiar with the meaning of many words, and after he can also pronounce each of them individually. In giving utterance to the first words which he uses, there is an evident suspension of the mind in regard to every thing else. His whole attention appears to be concentrated upon the word and its pronunciation. He cannot think of any thing else and pronounce the word at the same time; and it is not till after long practice that he can utter two, three, or more words in a sentence, without hesitation and a decided pause between them. It is only by degrees that he acquires the ability to utter a phrase, and at last a short sentence, without interruption. Nature prompts the child to this exercise, which from the first attempt, to the full flow of eloquence in the extemporaneous debater, consists simply in commanding and managing one set of ideas in the mind, at the moment the person is giving utterance to others. This cannot be done by the child, but it is gradually acquired by the man; and we shall see in its proper place, that this acquisition is entirely the result of a mental exercise, such as we have here described, and to which various circumstances in childhood and youth are made directly subservient.

Here then we have the highway of education, marked off, and walled in by Nature herself. That these four great departments in her educational process will be much better defined, and their parts better understood, when experience has given more ample opportunities for their observation, cannot be doubted; and it is not improbable, that future investigations will suggest a different arrangement of heads, and a different modification of their parts also; but still, the great outline of the whole, we think, is so distinctly marked, that, so far as they go, there can be little mistake; and by following them, we are most likely to obtain a large amount of those benefits which education is intended to secure.—To excel Nature is impossible; but by endeavouring to imitate her, we may at least approach nearer to her perfections.

It is not enough, however, for us to perceive the great outlines of Nature's operations in education; we must endeavour to follow her into the details, and investigate the means which she employs for carrying them into practical effect. We shall therefore take up the several departments above enumerated in their order, and endeavour to trace the laws which regulate her operations in each, for the purpose of assisting the teacher in his attempts to imitate them.