ARTHUR ERNEST DAVIES, PH.D.

We may take it as a sign of our superiority to other ages that we have learned to ask ourselves questions. Time was when the question formed a sort of permanent relation between two minds, the questioner and the questioned. All that has largely changed, and we have learned the meaning of the personal appeal, especially in matters of fundamental importance. I have said this may be taken as an evidence of superiority; it certainly is a token of the increasing self-consciousness of the race. And when we consider the character of these self-directed inquiries we find an eager restlessness in view of the undiscovered meaning and purpose of life. The apparent answer with us is never final; we somehow are not satisfied until what is not obvious has been brought to light. Thus, if any one in the reflective mood begins to speculate upon his own business or profession, let it be a blacksmith for example, he will be unable to remain contented in the thought that he has performed the whole duty of man in his particular line of making horseshpes and repairing implements; but will, with a convincing shake of the head, ask himself, "Why am I a blacksmith?"-with a strong emphasis on the why. And perhaps he will regain in mental composure when the why of his question is found in the muscle of his arm.

It is not surprising, therefore, that among teachers and the teachers of the teachers a similar attitude is being assumed toward their profession, and not a liitle discussion is being devoted to the subject of educational aims. To rightly estimate this tendency we must take it in connection with the broader outlook of today, for it is no isolated phenomenon as we have suggested, but is connected with the changed attitude of the age toward the significance and purpose of life. That the schoolroom should have been brought from its provincial isolation, and that the teacher should aim to take his place among the business men of the world are facts worthy of attention and commendation, if they are surrounded by dangers unknown to the former state of affairs. Even if not a few mistakes are made and as many foolish questions asked we could not if we would, and would not if we could, arrest the evident direction of our educational interests. But the purpose of this paper is not to trace out, in prophetic fashion, future events-that may be left to time, "the great revealer"; our object is much simpler and nearer to hand. Taking as symptomatic of the change of thought and feeling within the profession the interest given to questions of purpose, we shall, we hope, be helping some perplexed teacher in the discharge of his immediate duty by trying to correlate two or three contending claimants for supremacy. The educational aim has not been determined upon, perhaps never will be; the practical inquiry, however, is already confronting us: How may we utilize the valuable suggestions of each so as to reënforce the present motives and methods of our educational results?

We may distinguish, just now, three ideals which divide the advocates of school theory into three separate camps. If you raise the question, By what

test is the work of a teacher to be gauged? Some will answer, By the amount of information imparted; others, By the pupil's facility of mental apprehension; and still others, by the degree of moral sensitiveness of the school. Corresponding to each of these tests, there is a distinct object to be realized, when we look at the subject from the side of the teacher instead of from the side of the Board of Directors. The teacher, then, may regard his work to consist in giving instruction, in producing mental ability, or in developing moral character. Some interesting complications arise from this state of affairs, the consequences of which are visited upon the head of the unfortunate teacher. Thus, to give only a single instance, a teacher is engaged to take charge of a particular school. He does his work in a systematic way and results are beginning to reward his efforts. Ignorance is giving way to knowledge and the general interest, both the teacher's and pupils', is steadily on the increase. The Board, or some members of it, visit the school and proceed to test the teacher's work. The first question the pupils are asked is, What would you think of a pupil who copied at examination? Many hands go up, and the one selected, from the younger pupils, replies: "I should say he's smart!" Now, what is the trouble? Undoubtedly the answer reveals a low stage of moral perception; but would the questioner have been better satisfied if he had been told that probably the pupil didn't know the correct answer? Not a whit. It is not difficult to see here are two conflicting standards, the one which the teacher regards and the one which the Board thinks all-important, and they don't seem commensurate. Nor is this an exceptional case; for we might take the same question and answer, when it would not be difficult to see that, with a change in the standard, the teacher would receive approval, for the reply shows mental alertness, if it tells for nothing of what the pupil knows, and is, at the same time, bad morals. And so long as the question of educational aim is left in the present unsatisfactory state, there seems no way of escape from the reduplication of such instances. The only other way is for the teacher to find out from the Board what it expects from him; but let no one act upon this suggestion, for who supposes the Board would engage any one who didn't know his business"? So then, while differences of opinion last, we must do the best to see whether, from which ever point of view we start, we may not also do something to satisfy the demands of the other two.

The correlation of educational aims may be undertaken in somewhat the following way: Suppose we confine attention to the most difficult case, namely, to prepare the pupil for his fuller entrance into the moral life. Then I shall maintain that information and mental capacity are both necessary for the production of right characters.

If it were our purpose to criticise this ideal instead of seeking to harmonize it with others, we might perhaps begin by seeking a definition of that character which is, for the purposes of school life, to be considered right. There is a very popular delusion that questions of this kind are very easily answered and that agreement is very easily reached on moral issues. The fact is that divergence of opinion is the most characteristic thing about ethical

inquiry and that beyond a few fundamental principles and prohibitions we are about as far off from reaching general accord as if we belonged to different races and inherited different traditions. It would be easy to pursue this line of suggestion if not to the final discredit, yet to the temporary discomfiture of the moral purpose of the public school. But we have glanced along this line not with the object of raising "the horrors," but because there is in this connection a suggestion of which we wish to avail ourselves. For if we come

to recognize the fact, the important lesson it has to teach is that the moral conceptions of the work, like all the world's conceptions, are gradual acquisitions and not native endowments. Right character, that is to say, is not a fixed and permanent product to which appeal may be carried, as to a moral yard-stick, but is a fluid conception which has its roots in the past and its fruition in the future. Before, therefore, we can apply any such criterion to the school progress, it is evident that we are forced to set the pupil in proper relations with his antecedent circumstances if through him the world's morai movement is to be adequately advanced. While getting the ethical standard to work in the modern schoolroom, the teacher is obliged to cease moralizing, he has even to forego correction in the form of "you ought" and "you ought not," and to teach history. There is this interesting feature about the formation of character, to which everything else is made subordinate, that while your precept may be very good, it will tax your wits sometimes to answer the inoffensive Why? of your youngest scholar. There is great danger of compelling our teachers to become unpractical theorists, if we do not recognize that our pupils are all of them uncompromizing realists. And the only way to save the discipline of the schoolroom and the lives of the children is to set about the proper work of the place,—that is to say, to teach.

It is an encouraging feature of the hour that so much attention is being given to "courses of study." The relative value of studies inter se, is a fruitful topic of debate, and we are crossing out on to the broad ground of common sense when recognition is made of the fact that the child is interested in the same class of things as other folk, namely, men and the relations of men in the actual concrete circumstances of life. But what is this, but saying that we are to give the pupil his moral bent through intellectual appreciation of the historic course of events? And how can this information be imparted unless the teacher teaches,- that is, does that for which he has primarily qualified himself?

But now comes further complication, as it always does when the subject of method is introduced. In the nursery we have stories told to us. That is the method of teaching moral ideas. The prince always carries off the beautiful princess from the cave of the villian of the tale. Is there a change of method with a change of place? So long as parents will send their children to school at the age of four or five instead of from seven to nine, the primary teacher has little choice in the matter. But evidently the schoolroom is not.

a nursery, and most of the scholars are able to study. This is a new conception; it is the correlative of to teach. Now the question comes in, how can the moral incentive of history exert its influence in the life of the pupil who

is unable to read? Reading then becomes an immediate necessity of the scholar if he is to learn, and an important medium for the teacher if he is to teach. It thus assumes its proper place and function in the pupil's school life. It is never an end in itself. Like speaking, it marks an important psychological stage: they both are steps in the progressive independence of the child. But with regard to both we may also note that dependence on one set or series of circumstances gives way to a still larger and more widereaching dependence. Thus the acquisition of new accomplishments, and advancement in old ones, always means development of the personal relations in increased number and complexity. So that the progression of studies is itself an advancement of the individual mind into those moral connections with other minds in which the character becomes fixed. And from this point of view we should ever accord to mathematics a high place of moral work. We might write many pages on commercial ethics which would enforce this truth; but we forbear. Enough, perhaps, has been said to suggest the truth that be you never so anxious about the kind of boys and girls that are graduated from the schools, you can never obtain that moral leverage over their life, which is most desirable you should have, if you neglect the primary duty of your office as teacher.

We have seen that right character may be gained by the pupil in school as the result of the teacher's sincere effort to lead him along the thorny path of knowledge. We have now to consider the second point, namely, whether the second ideal of mental capacity may be harmonized with our moral school product.

There is a prejudice which any such question as is here proposed is sure to meet, and which it may be as well to face at once. It is very commonly held that the good boy and the bright boy are necessarily two boys, because good" and "bright" predicate antithetic qualities. This seems to be the weak spot in our endeavors to correlate the various aims and to make them mutually supplementary. Are we then to forego the task when on hand, and apologize for holding out a delusive hope? Not until we have inquired a little farther into the matter. For, after all, this may be one of those conventional estimates which embody only part of the truth; and then the missing part must be sought to set us free. And, indeed, we have not far to seek if we would find out how the antithesis arose. It comes of that over love of the concrete which is the popular idol, and of opposing the two types which have been "made to order." But the question, with us, should be not, must they be, but are they in necessary opposition? We have already said that the good is a term of indefinite meaning; and strictly you define so as to get the individual example, you have lost the good and gotten the prig. If this is the process by which the antithesis has been formed, we do not care to dispute the result; only we should insist that your moral monstrosity be called by a more exact term. In our meaning of good, there is no reason why the mentally and morally capable boy should not be the normal boy; nay, further, we do not see how you can secure ethical sensitiveness in the pupil unless you at the same time develop mental capacity.

Before we consider this point at greater length, we shall take up the relation between the other ideals, for we hold that the moral life must be built upon broad foundations. The ignorant and mentally obtuse scholar cannot become a good citizen. You cannot build character any more than dwellings auf der huft. We have already seen that directly you get your school organized for the purpose of realizing the ethical idea, your first business is to impart some very necessary information and instruction. The "three R's" at any rate, and much else besides, we think, must be included in the course of study. Now it is extremely interesting to note another result from this course which has been necessitated by the moral aim. It might seem that all this is in a backward direction; we have now to see that there is a forward movement along another line. Thus, let our school be composed of pupils whose ages average nine years. Going at our work in a scientific way, we need waste no time in trying to find out how much or little each scholar knows. Start them together. Your aim is to make them good girls and boys. Teach three months and then take a vacation. At the beginning of the second term conduct an informal review, and the result will show a series of suggestive differences. But suggestive of what? Of intellectual variations. You have now the basis for a graded school. Under the one exclusive aim with a common method you have realized a result different from either: there has been a distinct mental growth. And what has been said of this particular case is true of all advancement in knowledge up to and inclusive of the university; for it is not upon details of information but upon mental ability that promotion takes place, for it is this which distinguishes those who secure, or ought to secure, the prizes of life. Thus, if we may reap a practical suggestion by the way, school examinations must be so conducted as to be a test not of a single faculty, for example memory, but of the entire mind. But this apart, mental discipline is clearly the result of well-ordered teaching; and this is not its least valuable feature.

Have

We return now to the question which has been held in abeyance. we come any nearer to the beau ideal of school life which we started out by recognizing? Not perhaps if you regard that ideal as chiefly prescriptive. It is, of course, true, that several important duties have by the way been enforced and learned. Thus no one can become an apt scholar who is not obedient and diligent. The moral aim would be justified of separate mention if these qualities alone were meant. And if with broadening intelligence they secured firmer root and come to be fixed habits of character, unstinted praise would be merited by the teacher. For we may say that they are the fundamental qualities of all successful living. And, furthermore, their recognition by the scholar ought to become in larger measure the permanent motive of school discipline. But directly the pupil has become so far moralized that the personal appeal can be made with effectiveness, you may then hope to attain a larger measure of success throughout the remainer of the school course. We shall briefly indicate the lines along which the progressive mastery of the moral life seems to us to lie.

It is not now a question whether ethics ought to be introduced into the