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crayon in baud, see to it, sharply, that every eye is directed toward yourself. Write very slowly and distinctly upon the black-board the first letter of a long word the meaning of which is unknown to the class. When you have finished, let them copy, beginning, all at the same time, from a motion of the pointer. Go through the word in this way, letter by letter. Take several words each day, explaining their meaning later. This simple exercise, given for fifteen minutes daily, will shortly reduce the most rebellious class to order. And the best thing about it is that the children never once suspect the fact that they are being disciplined. Easy map and picture drawing used in this manner accomplishes the same result.
Memorizing is a most important factor in strengthening the attention. A short lesson upon the black-board should be memorized under the eye of the teacher. The story and reproduction from spelling is invaluable. When there are two or more divisions in a class, it is well to require all to unite in paying attention while the teacher spells, even though one division alone may be able to reproduce the ideas in writing.
Five minutes a day, at least, should be given to calisthenics. Control of the bodily organs is the first step towards control of the more intangible, refractory self. For this reason, too, certain attitudes should be assumed, and others forbidden, during a recitation.
In the first years of school life there should be a great deal of play, but not too many playthings. Nothing distracts and weakens a child's attention more than a great variety of toys with whose invention he himself has had nothing to do. Games should be selected always with reference to two points—doing and choosing. The child must do something, and that doing must involve choice on his part.
It will be observed that, in this lower stage, nearly everything is done under the direction of an external will, and this brings us to a most important point in all willtraining—obedience.
There is a profound psychological truth underlying the old saw that only he who has learned to obey is fit to command. We are apt to think of will always as affirmative—the doing of something. In reality it is inhibition, the not doing something which our lower nature urges us to do, that makes the heroism and the tragedy of life. Age after age, goes up the old despairing cry, " The thing that I would not, that I do." Self-control comes only through obedience to law, and, at first, the law must be external. The child's wilfulness must be repressed in order that his will by inhibition may grow strong and sane. Prompt, unquestioning obedience should be required at every point throughout this lower stage. Questions, explanations, and the presentation of higher motives belong to a higher order of development. Law, nevertheless, with penalties for its infringement, must continue throughout, but with this difference: that, in the higher stage, instead of being external, the severest penalty will lie in the humbling, scorching thought, "And I, / could commit this sin!" To a man whose will has been trained aright there is no other hell so terrible as this.
The second stage—let us say from the ages of ten to fifteen years—is, in some respects, the most important and interesting period with which we shall have to deal. It is a period of growth. The intellect awakens and the emotions begin to assert themselves. The former must be fed, the latter sanely and wisely directed. Heroworship is sure to come in now, often as a baffling and perplexing element. Imitation is active, and habits, both good and bad, are formed with appalling rapidity. The rein of external authority should now be loosened. The child must be encouraged to reflect, to seek remote ends, and, so far as possible, to judge for himself their intrinsic and relative value. Our main task in this stage will be to transfer largely that power of attention which we have been at such pains to cultivate, from the outward to the inward realm. This power of inward attention to right thinking, feeling, and choosing we call effort. Dr. James says of it: "Effort of attention is the essential phenomenon of the will." And, again: "Of course we measure ourselves by many standards. Our strength and our intelligence, our wealth, and even our good-luck, are things which warm our heart and make us feel ourselves a match for life. But deeper than all such things, and able to suffice unto itself without them, is the sense of the amount of effort we can put forth. Those are, after all, but effects, products and reflections of the outer world within. But the effort seems to belong to an altogether different realm, as if it were the substantive thing which we are, and those were but the externals which we carry. If the ' searching of our heart and reins' be the purpose of this human drama, then what is sought seems to be what effort we can make. He who can make none is but a shadow; he who can make much is a hero."
We may, for work at this stage, speak briefly of three forms of effort—physical, intellectual, and moral effort.
Of course, only the barest suggestions can be offered, since concrete work in this direction can never be the same in any two schools, nor, for that matter, in the case of any two children. It is an excellent plan for a teacher to make out and preserve in a note-book a charactersketch of each pupil, noting temperament, family antecedents so far as known, prevailing characteristics, marked preferences, dislikes, chief faults, virtues, etc., etc. To those of us who know and love our Dickens, and label half our acquaintances with the names of his characters, this proceeding will seem ludicrously suggestive of Miss Cornelia Blimber and her "Analasys of the charachter of P. Dombey." But, given a little more insight and sympathy than was possessed by that energetic educator, it is, nil the same, a very good thing to do.
"Never encourage helplessness" is an axiom which we may safely apply in the case of every child. More than that, we should teach them that weakness—even physical weakness, when the remedy lies in their own hands—is sin. Institution children—too much tagged by nurses and governors at every step—are prone to lie back, lazily awaiting directions. "You didn't tell me to " is an excuse with which we are all familiar, and one which, unfortunately, many of us accept with such meekness that the child actually feels himself injured by not having been told to perform some very obvious duty. Punishment, not pardon, should be meted out in such a case. All children over twelve years of age should be held as strictly accountable for the things they know they ought to do as for acts expressly commanded. Nothing strengthens the will power and develops common-sense judgment like self-responsibility felt and practised at an early age. Proper care of their own or of school property, neatness in personal appearance, the acknowledgment in writing of all presents, invitations, or favors received—in short, everything which can in any way strengthen the sense of personal responsibility—should be rigidly insisted upon.
In the domain of physical effort we may make use of the hundred daily opportunities, seeing to it that all school-room service—brushing slates, turning on and off of radiators, sharpening pencils, opening windows, etc.—is performed by the pupils, not the teacher. Athletic sports should be encouraged lor girls as well as boys. Nothing is more melancholy than to see institution girls walking demurely, two by two, through city streets or along paved walks, for exercise, when they ought to be climbing trees, jumping fences, or making mud-pies.
Fighting, when not too freely indulged in, is an excellent thing for boys, and, occasionally, for girls. "Fight your own battles" is frequently the very best advice we can give to the child who comes to us whining for redress and sympathy. As a rule, we take too much notice of children's quarrels, especially of silly little disputes between girls. We insist too much on sentimental " making up," shaking hands, and begging pardon.
For intellectual effort our ordinary school programme offers ample scope, and we need not dwell upon it here. One word only in regard to praise as an incentive to effort. There is a current notion that commendation should be sparingly used. On the contrary, it should be invariably bestowed upon every well-meant effort.
Something worthy of praise may be found in the work of the most sluggish, loutish boy. If not, we may, legitimately, pretend to find something, and praise in his case the rudiment of effort. It is often pathetic to watch the slow, incredulous, brightening face of such a boy when, for the first time, instead of being chided or held up to public scorn, he finds himself actually commended. A prize is harmful, but prizes, one within the reach of every child, are valuable as incentives to effort. Lists of names written each day at the close of school, upon the black-board, under the headings " Good Lessons" and " Good Behaviour," are also helpful. These things seem trifling, perhaps, but we must remember that we are dealing with children, and children, like grown people, are often spurred to effort by trifles.
When we come to the domain of moral effort, we find our second stage so merging itself into the third that, henceforth, we may as well consider both together. This latest period of school life is, emphatically, the "I like it" and "I don't like it" age. To make our boys and girls "like" worthy things and do worthy things, whether they like to do them or not, should here be our constant aim.
The repression of violent outward show of emotion is at this time a frequent duty, especially in the case of nervous, sensitive girls. According to Dr. James, we do not cry because we are sorry, but we are sorry because we